#number-onekidqueen's ttpd fic series

[number-onekidqueen]

pls do Sirius x reader to loml but make it not enough time instead of wrong time

𝓨𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓛𝓸𝓼𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝔂 𝓛𝓲𝓯𝓮

warnings: mentions of prison, death, alcohol, arguments, swearing, semi-cheating, a whole lot of angst.

wc: 8k

a/n: this is a long one, so i hope that makes up for how long this took to publish. i lowkey forgot what happened exactly with sirius, and all the department of mysteries so if it's inaccurate, my apologies.

It was an understatement to say you and Sirius had a history together. 

You'd been in each other's orbit before then, sitting near each other once or twice and sending polite smiles, but everything truly started during fourth year, when the Yule Ball had been announced. Boys in each house began stressing, worrying about how to ask their would-be dates and how they might confess their feelings. 

The marauders were not spared. While Remus had already asked a girl he was in a study group with - and she had accepted, luckily for him - he was overthinking ways it could go wrong and how the night could pan into a disaster.

Peter was a wreck, having ceased the little social contact he’d had with his potential date and attempting to change the subject whenever the topic would surface and she was within earshot.

Even James, at least sure in his choice of Lily as a date was anxious in ensuring the details of his proposal to her would be flawless, anxious to please her and praying she accepted. 

It was worse than exams. Somehow, using natural talent and a bit of cheating, Sirius and James had always managed passing grades or above in most subjects when it came to getting results back after exam season.

But asking a girl out to the Yule Ball? You couldn’t cruise along easily, hoping for the best outcome. Girls were happy to go on all the Hogsmeade dates that they wanted with Sirius and have it be casual, but the second a ball came up, it all became sentimental to them and they wanted it to “mean something”.

And as irking as that was, it led Sirius to question whether he should take someone he actually liked too. 

Which led him to a conundrum. Because when it came down to it, there simply weren’t many options of girls he actually liked, who he could talk to and have fun with. 

Sure, there were a few girls in Slytherin that were acquaintances of his family and that were okay to have a chat to once in a while. But he didn’t want to get sucked into all that pureblood shit. It would be fulfilling his parents wishes if he did something like that, and he would be damned if he did anything remotely close to what they wanted.

And so he was left with two options. 

The first was a Ravenclaw girl he was often paired up with in potions that tolerated his laidback often bordering on lazy attitude towards the subject. But he knew she’d already been asked and accepted, because he’d had to make the potion on his own the last lesson they’d had, as she’d been distracted, passing notes and giggling with a fellow Ravenclaw boy behind them. 

Which left you. Y/N L/N. Friends with Lily, Dorcas, Marlene, Mary, a fair few people. Your friend groups collided often, and he liked that while you enjoyed a laugh, you put James and him in their places when they got too cocky. It took guts to do that, and he respected that.

With the idea becoming more and more appealing, he decided to ask you. 

The proposal was nothing special. He remembered from a conversation he’d overheard between you and Lily about nail polish that you liked burgundy. So he’d conjured three red roses in preparation, and ambled up to you in the library where you were studying, with the flowers thrust out. 

You'd raised an eyebrow as he placed them beside your books, urging him to speak. 

“Look, I know you probably think I’m an idiot. But I like you, and I have no date to the Yule Ball, and I think we could have a lot of fun, so I’d like to ask you to the ball.” He'd proposed.

It was strange. He’d been mostly nonchalant all day leading up to this event, but saying the words left a ball of tension in his throat. He waited with bated breath for your response. For some unknown reason, he knew it would hurt him if you said no.

“Yeah, okay, I’d be happy to come with you.” And you'd smiled at him, just a friendly quirk of the lips, and it made him wonder why he felt jittery afterwards, why he seemed to be in a daze when he left the library after.

The Yule Ball was a success. Sort of.

Remus and his date, Linda, seemed to have a lovely time all night. Peter managed to say a few words to his date every now and then. And Lily had rejected James’ offer, but between both their friend groups, they’d ended up having a single dance together, right towards the end of the night, which James was still rambling about a week and a half later. And as for Sirius, it had been easier than falling asleep to enjoy himself. 

He was stunned at first, when you walked down the stairs with the other girls. All of them looked glamorous and attractive, but it still seemed as if you were the star among stones when you stepped out amongst them. The colour of your gown seemed to bring out different shades in your eyes, and the right tones in your skin, or whatever it was supposed to do. He didn’t really know what it was, couldn't put a finger on what made you look so gorgeous, the only thing he knew is that you did.

And suddenly it was intimidating. With every step of yours closer to him and quiet click of your heels, his mind began to race more, and he felt insecure, worried his hair wasn’t neat enough, that perhaps he’d missed the sneaky patch of bristle under the dip of his jaw-

But you’d smiled and laughed once you approached him, and immediately struck up a conversation. It was like that all night - talking, dancing, drinking, eating. Fun and easy.  

He'd been to so many balls in his life, used to the impressive and dainty decorations, the fine food and all the dramatic events that occurred. It was just another night to him, but he soon discovered that to you it wasn't.

This was your first ball, and you knew nothing of them. And despite hating them for as long as he could remember, there was something fun about seeing the wonder in your eyes as you took everything in, correcting your occasionally awkward dance movements and advising you on what to eat and what not. All these seemingly useless skills he'd acquired could finally be put to use, and help make you happy. And so it was a pleasant night, teaching you everything there was to know about balls, and sharing new experiences.

Until it wasn't. He hadn’t been aware, but the last song of the ball was slow and heartfelt. Out on the dance floor, still laughing together, the pair of you had been caught up in the tune, following the music as you waltzed and swirled and stepped. And as he’d dipped you, he’d felt a spark in his stomach, as if he’d touched a live wire. 

You'd exhaled softly as he gripped the small of your back, and the nervous gesture had cast his eyes onto your lips. Pink, glossed lips. The music seemed to go silent, and all there was were the shared breaths between you as he found himself leaning forward, inch by inch and wanting more, wanting to feel their softness with his own lips. And a rapid glance at your eyes revealed what he felt, a shy but desperate urge to get closer, to explore what hadn't been felt-

The moment had been disrupted when James had bumped into the pair of you, pushing you away from a girl who was hunched over and retching on the floor.

It hit him all at once, when you immediately left his side to hurry over to the poor girl, some Hufflepuff you knew from Herbology. You were good, kind - an amazing girl really. The kind of girl to fearlessly help another girl in need, even if you weren't good friends, even if it was embarrassing. What did he have to offer you? He toyed with girl's feelings, organised pranks on Slytherins and cheated on tests. He wasn't good. He wasn't worthy of you. What in Merlin's name was he doing? No, he couldn't do this.

He walked up to your crouched form beside the Hufflepuff girl, patting you gently on the shoulder, before he walked away, offering a brief goodbye as he headed for his dormitory. 

He knew he’d fucked up the next week. The day after the ball, you’d wanted to talk to him, about what had almost happened, about where the pair of you stood. He could feel it when you glanced over at him in classes, when you quickened to his pace when you spotted him walking around the castle.

He couldn’t bring himself to talk to you. If he even felt the things he felt, which he still wasn't completely sure of, he knew he wasn’t good for you at all. His family, his status, his reputation. Sirius and Black would forever be entwined inevitably, and you detested everything the Blacks stood for. And at his core, he knew he was the exact opposite of you, in all the worst ways. It just wouldn’t work. 

He tried to tell himself that when he dodged your eyes and exclamations to him, and when he avoided you in the corridors between lessons. 

He tried to believe it when he saw your face fall in hurt, saw you and your entire friend group begin to look at him in disdain. 

He tried to reassure himself when he lay in bed awake, long after James had began snoring, and wondered what could’ve been if that chick hadn’t puked her guts out. 

You weren’t good friends after that at all. Your whole relationship seemed to have been tossed into flames. He realised the extent of that, when he casually slid into a seat beside you in Charms a few months later and you up and left immediately. To sit beside a Slytherin.

For the rest of fourth year, your relationship was frosty at best between you both. He tried to be back in your orbit, and you pushed him out, often obviously. It always made him a little upset, even if he rolled his eyes at your passive aggressive antics in public. He'd still wanted to be your friend, even if he knew he couldn't be more than that for your sake.

He was pleased that by the end of seventh year, he at least had a civil relationship with you. You tolerated him, you were polite to him, and sometimes you even let out a short chuckle at his jokes. He loved it when you did. 

It was when you both joined the Order after graduation that he truly began talking to you again and trying to reform the relationship. And it had appeared to be working. 

He was different now, more knowing of himself and his personality than his teen self had been. And he knew now that while he wasn't perfect back then and he certainly wasn't now, you had been worth the risk. You had been worth all the differences between the pair of you and all the changes he would've had to have made. And you still were.

But that was when bloody Craig entered the scene. 

Sirius couldn’t believe of all the blokes out there, you’d chosen to date him. You weren’t just attractive to him, you were seriously beautiful. In his opinion, you probably could’ve dated a prince or Oscar-winning actor with your looks and your personality, and you'd chosen him?!

Craig was… Merlin's beard, where did he even start? He’d been a stuffy Ravenclaw guy in the year above the both of you. And could you believe it, after seven years at Hogwarts and getting cracking marks in most subjects, what did he do with his credentials? He was a muggle television technician or something. Sirius still didn't really understand what he did exactly, but he'd been seriously disappointed when he found out. What?!

What was worst of all was Sirius knew that secretly, you didn’t like him. He’d be invited for Order dinners, and call you sweetie, give you a wet kiss on the cheek, and Sirius would see your eyes twitch, just slightly, your smile tighten. He’d speak of image quality and specific cords, and Sirius would see you roll your lips inward and look away, the way you always did when you were embarrassed or uncomfortable. 

It pissed him off, frankly. If he were dating you, he wouldn’t be talking about bloody televisions. He’d be talking about what you liked, what you were interested in, and trying to crack jokes that would make you laugh, even just a little bit. He'd include you in every conversation, instead of interrupting you mid-sentence to go on tangents about muggle 'technology', whatever that was. He'd kiss you privately, the way he knew you liked, and not blatantly ignore your discomfort and embarrassment at public affection.

When he'd seen your subtle grimace for the fourth time that night, he decided to pour himself another glass of wine, and perhaps a generous one at that. He was going to need it.

Walking into the kitchen, he debated between Merlot and Pinot Noir before choosing the latter option. If this continued, (which he was sure it would) he didn't want to be sober, and he didn't want to remember it at all.

"Do you mind pouring me a glass?"

At your soft question, Sirius nearly dropped his glass in surprise. Spinning around, he faced you and immediately noticed the expression of discomfort on your face, the way your cheeks were coloured and eyes troubled.

Playing it casually, he hummed affirmatively in response, reaching up to get a glass, and beginning to pour the deep red liquid into your glass.

"Oh, woo- that's enough." You chuckled, pulling the glass by its stem to avoid it from filling further. "I don't want to get completely written off."

You laughed and Sirius joined in, although the sound was hollow and fake, even to his own ears.

Frowning, you took a small sip from your glass and tilted your head. "Sirius, what's wrong? I don't mean to be rude, but I feel like you've kind of been off all night."

"I'm fine," he responded tightly, putting the wine back in its place and making to head past you, "there's nothing wrong."

Your hand, small but firm, stopped him on his way past, gripping his bicep. He turned, seeing your look of disbelief and something akin to concern. "Come on. Don't pull this shit with me. I know... we're not friends like we were, but I feel like I know you well enough to know that something's wrong. Just- please tell me."

All right, he thought to himself, I hate that we're not friends anymore, or more than that. I hate your boyfriend. I hate that you hate your boyfriend. I hate myself-

"Fine, tell me nothing," you spoke angrily, when enough time had lapsed that it was clear he wouldn't be speaking, "Hide behind lies, like you always do, Black. But just know, one day the truth might help you. Might save you!"

And just like that he was furious. Because how could you come to him and start preaching of telling the truth and not hiding behind falsehoods like some saint, when your current life was a lie?!

“Right, well if you want me to tell the truth, I will then," He spat bitterly, shaking his arm from your grip, "You don’t-you don’t even like him at all, do you?”

You froze, your eyes narrowing. “What?”

“It’s obvious. Craig! You think he’s a total loser. And he is!”

“Sirius, what the hell?! Just because he’s not in a magic career-“

“It’s not just that," Sirius said, shaking his head, and absolutely bewildered that you were defending him, "He’s a television technician for God’s sake. And he actually enjoys it, and finds it interesting!” 

“And what's wrong with that, Sirius?!" You retorted, eyes flashing, and even though you were angry with him, some deeper part within him cheered as you stepped closer, as you brought your nose to his, "Merlin, not everyone finds parading around and pretending to be some magic soldier entertaining!"

"Oh, but you do?" He challenged, and for the way you stuttered for words, he knew that he'd won in a way.

"You... and I- we're very different. In the way we are, in the way we do our jobs, in everything."

"Fine. But d'you you know who's even more different to you? Fucking Craig! Just admit it! You don't love him, you don't even like him!"

"Craig is nice though," you defended, "he makes me feel safe and-"

"Safe? Safe?! Y/N, I know you might've forgotten that poem you loved in fourth year - but I haven't - and I'm pretty sure the line you liked most literally read 'I'd prefer to be starry-eyed rather than safe', and you talked to me for hours about it, because you agreed with it on so many levels, and you wanted to find a love that felt like that," He exhaled, suddenly feeling exhausted, "I-I know you've changed a lot since then. But if you're anything like who you were then, do you really think that Craig makes you feel starry-eyed?"

There was a long, quiet pause. In the dining room, the sounds of Lily laughing at James' joke echoed through to the kitchen. Then-

"No," you whispered.

And then-

"To be honest, only one person ever made me feel starry-eyed."

Sirius felt as if he were about to topple over from the impact of that sentence, as if he was back on his broom in a gruelling match of Quidditch and the quaffle had socked him in the ribs. He held his breath, his eyes searching yours as he prayed you'd continue, prayed you'd say the words his soul craved.

"Yeah?" His voice was croaky, scratchy, but it was as if his vocal cords had stopped functioning.

"Yeah," you breathed, and he wasn't sure whether it was he or you who moved first, but in an instant you were meeting in the middle, skidding on the cold tiles, and your lips were colliding. They were cool and soft, and coated in lip gloss that tasted sweet, and that he was sure would coat his mouth after this encounter. It was better than anything he'd ever guiltily dreamed of, and just thinking about for how long he'd yearned for this made his head spin. He wrapped his arms around your waist to distract himself from those thoughts, groaning from the warmth of your skin beneath the soft wool, so caught up in everything that he only noticed that your wine glass had slipped from your hand and crashed to the floor when your lips stopped on his, breathy and tense.

"Oh, shit. Sirius-"

"Don't care. I'll clean it up later." And he drew you back in, this time caressing your chin and neck, and twisting his fingers through the softness of your hair. It was you who let out a groan then, and then another as he began to trail warm kisses down your throat. And-and it was all that you wanted, but you knew you'd spent a suspicious amount of time as it was in the kitchen, and that soon someone would come to fetch the pair of you. And so, as much as your body screamed in argument, you should stop.

"We-we should-" you murmured, tilting slightly away from his lips which had reached the curve of your shoulder.

"Mm, no. We shouldn't." It was short and decided, which made you laugh lightly.

"They'll see us... and, well-"

"Let them."

But despite his words, even he knew the time had come to venture back into the dining room, before you attracted an audience.

Pulling away, he gave you a long glance that seemed to sear to your very bones before he gave you a final soft peck and retreated. "To be continued," he whispered with a grin, before squeezing your hand and reaching for a new wine glass for you.

-------------------------------------------------------------

The night seemed to progress in a way that reminded you of the fast-forward control Craig had shown you on a television, when the show continued twice or thrice as fast in order to get to the part one was up to quicker.

Dinner was over in a heartbeat, with dessert rolling out soon after you and Sirius had returned to the dining room, and everyone only staying for a half hour or so after that before succumbing to their fatigue or intoxication and heading home.

As you'd hugged Sirius goodbye, you'd whispered 'see you soon', and he'd been more than a bit confused, an eyebrow raising as he probed you with a glance for more information. But you'd just smiled at him before apparating away with Craig.

And from there it was easy.

He'd showered, and you'd sat on the sofa twisting your hands about, wondering how you were going to phrase what you'd needed to say. And when he'd come out, hair wet and on his way out to his own apartment, you stood, and you said what you could. Most of it was measly from your it's-not-you-it's-me explanation, to your utterly decided mind that the relationship was over.

But he'd taken it well. In fact, he'd practically shrugged, said something about how he was sure some girl called Grace working at his office would go on a date with him, wished you a good night, and left. It left you so dumfounded you sat on the arm of the sofa for a good few minutes after, simply collecting your thoughts.

And then you left your apartment too.

Back in the kitchen in Sirius' apartment, you wasted no time in making your way to his room, not pausing before opening the door and rushing in, blurting, "I broke up with him."

He was surprised for a moment, sat on his bed, before he rose and walked over to you, tugging you down to sit on his lap. "Couldn't waste another second without me, could you?"

"Oh, shut up, I just didn't want you going to bed sobbing." You teased, shifting from his lap to lie down on his bed, your legs still splaying over his thighs.

"Well you've absolutely saved me the tears. Now I'll be going to bed in a completely different mood," and he smirked as he ducked down to kiss you deeply, before breaking apart with concern in his eyes.

"Did he take it well?"

"Did he ever," you snorted, settling deeper into his pillow, and inhaling the scent that surrounded the bed - the scent of him -, "I'd barely closed my mouth and he was talking about some girl at his office and how he'd be fine."

"Of course he was," Sirius scoffed, scowling at the roof at the thought of discarding you so easily for someone else.

"But let's not talk about him," you complained, raising yourself up only so you could tug him down so he lay beside you.

"Oh, you want to talk about how you're starry-eyed for me?"

"Wanker," you mumbled in embarrassment, as you buried your face into the pillow.

"Princess, don't be ashamed," he said gently, taking your face into his hands so you could meet his eyes. And as riddled with mirth as they were, there was also something deeply profound in them as he said, "I'm also completely starry-eyed for you too."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The news came late in the night, as bad news always does.

At first you'd been rather irritated as you felt the bed shift and Sirius slip out, even if you were accustomed to it.

You'd made him promise to tone down his midnight meetings and all the dangerous missions he went on with the Order, begging him to not be involved in it over this weekend when you were supposed to be celebrating your engagement, but you supposed he couldn't necessarily ignore the shrill and desperate shrieks of an owl.

Still, you groaned when you heard him curse, heard him pull his clothes on in a hurry and rush down the stairs. And you were positively pissed when you heard the deep roar of his motorcycle start, and the rush as it zoomed off, as he left you.

What the fuck is going on? you thought to yourself as you rolled out of bed, and stumbled to where he'd left the letter.

Sirius,

Someone spilled it. He's coming for them.

-- Wormtail

No.

No, it couldn't be. You rubbed your eyes, blinked until you saw stars, trying to see anything other than the messy scrawl in front of you.

A desperate need overtook you, much like what you were sure had rushed through Sirius once he'd read the letter from Peter. You needed to help Lily and James, and poor, sweet baby Harry. You couldn't let them- but no, you refused to think of that.

But quickly, you realised there wasn't much you could do. Much like the Potters, most members of the Order had strong spells in place that didn't allow you to apparate to and from their houses, due to some leaks that had resulted in house invasions. And Sirius had taken the motorcycle, which is what the pair of you used to travel from place to place, if you didn't use the bus.

So, unless you walked - which you certainly were not going to do at this hour - there was no way you could make it to Godric's Hollow in time, no way you could help anyone.

The anguish overtook you then, and you couldn't help but cry in the horror of it all. This was supposed to be your engagement weekend with Sirius, something romantic and quiet that you had both longed for after all the dangers of being in the Order. You weren't supposed to be fearing for the lives of your closest friends, of their baby boy - and especially not your fiancé.

The hours trickled by slowly, and you weren't sure how you survived, with the way you paced agonisingly and repeatedly, shook heavily, and wept until your body went numb.

The daylight came and went, and when your watch told you that it was ten o'clock you knew something bad had happened. If things had gone well, Sirius would have been back by now. Which meant-

Getting changed into his old quidditch jersey for comfort, and a pair of jeans, you finally headed downstairs and stepped outside and into the street.

It was a normal late morning in London, with people getting on and off buses, and sitting on benches and reading the paper. But you knew in the muggle streets of London, you would get no answers to the questions you desperately needed answering, and so you rushed into action, hopping onto the approaching bus and beginning your short trip to the Leaky Cauldron.

Even at the early hour, it was bustling with patrons. Which only happened when there were things to talk about. You took this as a bad sign, but swallowing heavily, you pushed through them to get into Diagon Alley, and that was when you stepped into complete chaos.

"Get yer Prophet! Read all 'bout it! Mass murder in Godric's Hollow!" A paper seller shouted into the crowd of people.

There were groups of people standing about, with newspapers in hands and horrified expressions all around as they read what had occurred and friends read over their shoulders. Your stomach sank further as you approached the seller, bending down to pick up a paper someone had discarded in disgust on the cobbles.

AUROR COUPLE FOUND DEAD AT HOME, THEIR BABY SOLE SURVIVOR

James and Lily Potter, prominent members of the Auror community were found dead in their cottage at Godrics Hollow late last night, with only their baby boy Harry surviving the encounter that is believed to be another attack by You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters.

But unlike other Auror deaths that seem similar in nature to this double-homicide, this awful story has another horrifying twist. Friend of the Potter's, Peter Pettigrew, was found later on this morning in a London alley, where he was seemingly trying to catch the mole within the Aurors who caused this tragedy before he was brutally-

"Murdered at the hands of Sirius Black!" The seller crowed once more, "a death eater disguised as an Auror!"

You felt like you might vomit. Or faint. What?! None of what they were saying could be true. James? Lily? Dead? No, that couldn't possibly have happened.

And Sirius? You knew him, you loved him. You couldn't even fathom how someone could even have begun spreading this story of misinformation.

Courage and outrage growing within you, you stormed to the seller, calling, "You've got it wrong. Sirius Black isn't a death eater!"

You didn't care about the stares and attention you got at your bold words, at how murmurs began to spread as people looked at the golden surname stitched on the back of the red jersey you were wearing and connected the dots.

"Lovie, I'm afraid he is. Caught redhanded and everythin'," the seller explained, somewhat sympathetically, as she pointed at the front cover of the Daily Prophet. At the scowling mugshot of Sirius, whose face was sprayed in dark droplets.

No. No. But what was worse was the haunted look in his eyes, the utter pain you could see radiating from his pupils, even in the shaky, monochromatic image.

"Look, I get it's hard to come to terms with, especially if he's ya boyfriend. I knew someone who was a death eater too, and bloody hell was that a hard one to swallow! But lovie, just accept it and everythin'll be easier on ya." She soothed, giving you a ginger pat on your shoulder.

But you stepped away from her sharply. "No, this isn't true, and I'll prove it!"

And you ran and ran and ran. You didn't hear as people began to point you out, recognising you as the girlfriend of that murderer, jeer rude words at you, or even spit at you. You had tunnel vision, only thinking of your destination, which was the Ministry of Magic, and you wouldn't rest until you saw that cherry red telephone box, and until it was transporting you into the depths that were the Ministry.

Your legs began to ache, muscles screaming in protest at the ruthless pace you were sprinting at, but you refused to slow down, not when everyone in the world had got it so wrong and they were going to hurt Sirius. It couldn't be him, you simply didn't believe it at all.

The Ministry was a blur of people, colours and sounds as you pushed through crowds of people in suits, desperate to get to the desk clerk you glimpsed in the distance and ready to fall to your knees and beg to be given an audience with Sirius.

Eventually, you made it to her bench, and began breathing heavily as you faced her. "Please," you panted, as you tried to regain your rapidly escaping breath, "I don't know where he is... what's happened- but... I need to see Sirius Black, now, please-"

"Sirius Black?" The girl asked incredulously, halting her relentless gum chewing to gape at you.

"Yes, he-he... I'm afraid something terrible has happened and he's been framed... I need to sort it all out."

"Look, miss, I can't deny the bloke looks half decent," she proclaimed, leaning forward as she began to whisper the latter half of her sentence, "but he murdered some fella! And it wasn't any clean curse too, you hear? I've got an Auror friend and he said the entire road was coated in blood, Black blew the bloke up and-"

"No, no, I refuse to believe that," you rebutted desperately, "I know him, and this isn't about the fact he looks handsome, for Merlin's sake. Just-just tell me what floor he's on, please? Tell me how to access it?"

The clerk girl pursed her lips, seemingly torn before gesturing to a nearby elevator with her head and saying, "8 should be him."

Calling your thanks back at her, you strode away, dashing to make it to the elevator before the doors closed, when you heard shouts behind you.

"Y/N L/N! L/N, stop where you are!"

Obeying the voice, you swivelled your head to see three Ministry guards with their wands out, briskly making their way over and a crowd of officials following them.

"We've obtained knowledge from a source that you have a certain relationship with a recently detained Sirius Black. Would that be correct?" A guard questioned, now facing you.

"Yes," you breathed, scared suddenly.

"Well, Miss L/N, I'm going to assume that you have heard this morning's tragic news and understand the repercussions," An official interjected, once he had made his way over to face her as well, "The Ministry does not take situations like this lightly. In a reflection of that, the trial of Sirius Black is to begin in a half hour."

You couldn't even question the words leaving his mouth as any semblance of language had disappeared from your mind. You couldn't even begin to understand how this could be possible. You wanted so desperately to wake up, but you could feel the way your palms were sweating, and hear the ticking of the Ministry clock. This was not a nightmare, but reality.

"Now, obviously we cannot allow you to be a witness, as to our knowledge you were not part of last night's events, and we cannot allow you to be a part of the jury, as I think it would be safe to say you are far from impartial to Mr Black. However, what we can offer you is a seat in the viewing gallery when a verdict is reached, and a ten minute time frame with him before your trial, given your close circumstance with him. I trust you will be grateful for this and take advantage of this generous opportunity we've presented you."

And all you could say was, "Yes."

You suppose it was the shock that had set in at that point. At least, that's what the catering lady suspected when she spotted your shaking form in the court break room fifteen minutes later. You couldn't really remember how you had got down there, what path you had taken and who had taken you. Even after a mug of steaming tea and two buttery biscuits, your shaking would not subside, and your mind remained blank. But then-

"Miss Y/N, you will now see Mr Black if you have no objections." The offical called, and you felt rather than heard the doors open, as you stumbled to your feet.

It was as if all of your emotions flooded back into your body, all at once, as your eyes locked with his. The numbing shock faded away as quickly as it had drenched you, and in its wake was a suffocating number of emotions. You felt like you could begin bawling, yelling and smiling all at once as he was brought closer and closer to you by the guards restraining either side of him.

You decided fate was a cruel thing then, as the guards finally let go of his form, and he dashed the final steps to sweep you into his arms. Because the deja vu was not lost on you, of his suit and tie, and his shocked face as you walked towards him, his actions mirroring those of his ones at the Yule Ball all those years ago.

But you quickly forgot your thoughts of deja vu and fate, when you felt his own body quake with restrained sobs, felt his tight grip of you begin to suffocate you. Just as swiftly as he had embraced you however, he pulled away, his fingers staying interlocked with yours as his face took on a pleading expression.

"You don't believe them, do you?" He asked, and your heart broke to think that he'd considered you'd be against him. "I- princess, I don't know how I can make you believe me, but-but, I promise I didn't do it-I didn't-"

You kissed him then, deeply, passionately and hoping to convey all your love through your lips, if that was even possible. He seemed stunned at first, his lips still, before he responded with a fervour that almost made you smile.

"Of course I believe you," you whispered against his lips, when you both had to pull apart to catch your breath, "Sirius, you... you could never have done something like this. Of course not."

Your heart squeezed painfully once more at the broken, haunted look in his eyes, as he glanced away, anywhere but your own eyes. "It was-it was awful-I-I....," he exhaled slowly and shakily before his eyes met yours once more, "My- James is dead, and so is Lily, and I couldn't save them, Y/N. Do you know how fucking hard I accelerated, God, I thought I was going to crash into about fifteen cars and then maybe a few birds. And-and, it was all for nothing, because-" he closed his eyes, and the pain was tangible in the way he winced, "and Merlin, I don't even know what happened to Harry because not a soul will tell me anything and I'm going wild in that cell down there, because the-the bloody people down there with me-they-they howl and they scream in pain, and when they don't it's just me and the darkness, and-Merlin- I don't know how long I can deal with it-"

He buried his face into your shoulder, and when you felt wet warmth on your shoulder, you began to cry too, squeezing him tighter, because you knew that was the only way you could reassure him. "Sirius, I-I-I don't know how, but-I'll get you out of there, I will... you'll be home with me before you know it, and-"

"All right. Mr Black, Miss L/N. That concludes your session. Your trial will begin shortly."

Everything was urgent at once. Sirius pulled back from you, and the desperation in his eyes matched his tone, as he said, "Whatever happens, it happens. Just know, that I love you. I love you so much, and you are the love of my life, even with whatever ends up happening to it."

You didn't have time to say it back before he pulled you into a kiss that rivalled any others you'd ever had. You tried to memorise the feel of it all: of his arms, and the way he held you like you were the finest piece of jewellery in the world; the way his mouth felt and moved, scalding and desperate and unrelenting; and his hands, the way his fingers trailed up and down your spine and curled into your hair. It was over too quickly, and then he was being pulled away from you, and the world was hazy and blurry because your eyes were furiously streaming with tears of utter anguish. You didn't see the significant look from the officials to the catering lady, as your shaking began again. In fact, you were so distraught, that you didn't even notice the white powder she sprinkled into the tea she offered you soon after, and the realisation only sank in when your body felt leaden and you slumped to the floor, your eyes fluttering shut.

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You thought again of the cruelty of fate when you mistook the catering lady for Sirius shaking you awake.

"Sirius," you mumbled grumpily, rolling away from the hands that shook you, "If you want me to see the bloody sunrise so much, just take a Polaroid of it, why don't you?"

But what followed wasn't a lighthearted argument or tickling kisses on your neck to wake you up, but a gentle, wary voice.

"Love, I think you'll want to wake up for this."

And then you remembered.

In a flash, you were on your feet, turning to her and asking, "Where?"

At the sight of the court room, your stomach bottomed out. Sirius was standing, his back to you and handcuffed, with an officer at either side. As you shuffled into your seat, your eyes remained on his form and barely noted as a member of the jury stepped up to the front.

"We, the jury find Sirius Orion Black guilty of all charges against him."

The banging of the gavel, was in rhythm with bile rising in your throat. And then- and then the other viewers around you in the gallery, the motherfuckers had the nerve to clap. Some cheered. You were at a serious risk of vomiting.

"With that verdict, the Ministry of Magic hence sentences Sirius Orion Black to life in the Prison of Azkaban."

Godric, you actually were going to throw your guts up. This couldn't be possible. You gazed at Sirius' back, wondering how he had not collapsed at the weight of the words they had just said, at what they meant for him and his future. He simply stayed standing, his back straight, his posture firm, as he turned to you.

It had to be fifteen metres between you and he, but you could see the heavy tears in his eyes, see the way his lips were tense as he opened them to mouth 'I love you'. You mouthed them back, just as he was tugged away, and as soon as you burst through the side door, you did vomit.

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To the loml,

I'm not going to lie to you. Anyone who thinks hell is not on Earth has not visited Azkaban. It's dark, it's cold, it's always, always storming and the prisoners deserve to be here. They're all bloody lunatics, and since I thought the crazies in the Ministry cells were bad, I got one hell of a shock coming here.

But I get through it. Some days, I feel like I want to find a way to squeeze through the bars and impale myself on the rocks below, but that's just because I can't stop hearing them, seeing them. I don't think I can ever forget seeing James and Lily like that, and hearing those muggles scream as Peter blew them up.

You get me through it. And I know you'll think that I'm being all sappy to distract you from the dark shit I told you about before, but princess, it's true, I promise. On days like the ones I was writing about, I just think of you, and it starts to get better. I think a lot about that night you dumped that absolute tosser Craig and came home to me. What a night. And it gets me through hearing the rats in my cell and all the nightmares I get.

But enough about me, what have you been up to? I do hope Kreacher has been treating you well, or I'll find some way to beat his wrinkled arse from here.

With all my love,

yours, Sirius.

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You didn't heed the rumours at first.

There'd been many, over the years, and while the first few times, you'd hoped and believed with all of your heart that he had in fact escaped, it hurt you too much to try and believe in rumours of his escape, as each time without fail, the truth came crashing down on you like an avalanche.

It was only when you saw him with your own two eyes that you would believe the rumours.

The night began like any other Saturday night, which was one in which you would indulge yourself with thinking about Sirius and remembering him. You dragged out your cassette player from the cupboard and while you cooked dinner you would listen to the many, many mixtapes that you and Sirius had created for each other.

You were halfway through boiling the pasta, stirring the pot with a wooden spoon as you absentmindedly sang that gushy Cher song that you loved and that you knew even Sirius had a soft spot for.

If I could turn back time,

If I could find a way-

"If I could turn back time, I'd have never got out of that bed next to you."

The wooden spoon clattered to the floor beside you, and you inhaled sharply at the sound of the voice you knew all too well. Could it be- was that even possible?

Ever so slowly, you turned your head, prepared to see the empty dining room, prepared to have finally gone mad and to have your mind playing awful tricks on you.

And yet, there he was.

It had been twelve years since you'd seen him, and you could see what the time had done to him. His hair, once silky and reaching his chin, was longer now, and more matted and rough. He had scruff on his face, like the beginnings of a beard and moustache. And under that, you could see faint lines on his face, where his age really had caught up with him.

But he was still your Sirius; you could still see the equal amounts of depth and amusement in his eyes, even if you could also see pain that hadn't been there before.

And-and somehow, he'd come home to you.

Your hands reached forward to touch him, as he stepped closer, but even with your innate desire to fling yourself onto him and never let go, stronger was your curiosity, your disbelief.

"H-how-what?" you stuttered, tears flooding your eyes, as he picked you up as easily as if you were a feather and put you on the bench top, standing between your legs.

"That, princess," he replied, in between kissing you all over, rapidly, softly, "is a long, complicated story. And-"

"You don't have to tell me right now," you murmured, beaming at him, almost high on the fact that he was back, that he was touching her. A roar of triumph echoed through your head as he sent you his signature grin.

"My thoughts exactly. We have more important things to do."

And you and Sirius carried out those important tasks dutifully and enthusiastically, only stopping abruptly when you discovered the pasta pot was boiling over.

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"I'm going to the Ministry on Order business. Be back soon, princess," Sirius whispered, as he pressed a kiss to your brow, ignoring your groans of protest as he slipped from the bed.

Yes, Sirius Black still had a rather bad habit of leaving you in the middle of the night to partake in Order business.

The first few times he'd done this, you'd had arguments after, because obviously, after what had happened the last time he'd slipped out after midnight, you were scared stiff when you couldn't contact him, or if he came home late.

But after many, many more escapades, and two joyous years of safety, of him returning after a few hours, you'd begrudging relented on scolding him for the nasty habit. For as much as you still felt a large twinge of anxiety for every minute that ticked over sunrise when he still hadn't returned, he always did, in the end. And you knew that as much as you hated it, Sirius was an integral part of the Order, and he had to do what he had to do.

But tonight somehow felt different. Because for as much as you tossed and turned, and told yourself over and over that Sirius would be fine, the little voice inside your head would not be silenced, and it accompanied a feeling of sickness, deep in your stomach.

Cursing as you rose, you swiftly put on a comfortable and practical outfit before you left the house, venturing a few steps from the doorway before you apparated to the the telephone box that would lead you in to the Ministry.

The memories coming back to you did not help soothe your rapidly rising nerves, and neither did the dark, deserted Ministry that you found before you from your wand glow.

Your trepidation only grew when you found broken glass, and obvious signs of a scuffle. There had been a fight here, and recently. What in the name of Merlin was going on?

You were about to say that aloud when Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared beside you, and grabbed your arm, pulling you with him towards an elevator.

"Come on, we must go. They're in the Department of Mysteries." He explained, as he punched in the appropriate floor.

"What? The Order?" You asked, bewildered, as the elevator travelled at its dangerously rapid speed, "why?"

"The kids, you know - Harry, his lot, a few others - they found some death eaters down there and they've been trying to fend them off while the Order get here."

"Shit. Is everyone okay?"

"Well," he turned to face you, looking grim, as a cheery ding alerted you to the fact the elevator was stopping at the selected floor, "we have no way of knowing, but if You-know-who is involved as well as his death eaters, we have to expect the worst."

Expect the worst. You were all too familiar with the worst outcomes of a situation, and images of piles of dead, bloody bodies and Sirius being crucio'd flashed in your mind as you kept up with Kingsley's pace, racing down the corridor to the end door which was slightly ajar.

Inside was a wreck. While you'd never been inside before this moment, you'd heard that the Department of Mysteries was like an orderly maze of wonder, full of shelves that reached the roof groaning with the weight of luminescent orbs and other weird and wacky wonders.

But what was facing you now was nothing like what you had envisioned. There was only wreckage; splintered wood, and piles of glowing shards of glass littered everywhere the eye could see. Further on, you could see dark figures and flashes of green and red as fighting ensued.

Soon enough, you could make out a few familiar faces: Tonks with her fierce expressions and brightly-dyed hair; Remus with his nose streaming red, but arm still firm and strong as he hexed his opponent; Ginny, with her red hair streaming about as she ducked and dived from the many hexes death eaters were shooting at her.

But no Sirius.

You jogged further in, edging into the fight as well, and beginning to hex and curse death eaters in your midst, and those who challenged other Order members who you could reach. All the while, your eyes darted about, longing to see even a glimpse of long, dark hair, that would tell you that Sirius was safe.

But it wasn't his hair that made you notice him; no, it was his voice.

"Nice one, James," He'd called, and you could see that he was grinning with pride at his godson, Harry reflecting the expression, as he ducked from another hex shot at him.

And then the world seemed to go in slow motion.

Because there was Bellatrix - that utter bitch - her face twisted in psychopathic rage as always, as a flash of green erupted from her wand. And you could do nothing but watch, as it sailed through the air, and-

-hit Sirius squarely in the chest.

At once, he was stumbling backwards, and you weren't sure why, but Harry was screaming at this, struggling so hard that Remus had to restrain him, as he began to fall towards a shimmering mirror.

You caught his gaze then, as his hand seemingly went through the mirror. And to add to your confusion, his eyes were somber, the way they only were when something tragic and awful had happened. 'I love you' he mouthed, but you didn't have time to say it back, didn't even have time to react, because-

-then he was gone.

"NO!"

You weren't sure if it was you or Harry who'd screamed that, but you couldn't breathe as you heard Bellatrix laugh maniacally, beginning to taunt Harry. And while Harry was restrained, you weren't.

And if-if she had actually-If Sirius was actually gone, you would not rest until you wiped that evil smirk off her face permanently.

You were certain it was you, when you began charging towards her, screaming bloody murder and death threats at her. Because you weren't just going to let her die, no you were going to make her bleed, and hurt, and scream in pain before you gave her the honour of dying.

Your efforts were stopped by Kingsley however, who grabbed you by the shoulders and dragged you away from the scene, even when you struggled as furiously as Harry had, and began to scream at him. It didn't help anything, as he wrapped both arms around you and apparated away to the top floor of the Ministry. It was only then he released you.

"Kingsley, what the fuck?! How could you?!" You screeched, swivelling towards him and barely restraining the urge to slap him.

"Y/N, you need to calm down," he soothed, rubbing your shoulder, "I know you're upset, I'm upset too. But it wouldn't have solved anything at all if you did that, I can promise-"

"No, you can't promise me anything!" You yelled back, tearing backwards so his hand fell to his side, "How do you know I couldn't have disarmed her? Couldn't have forced her to get him back?"

"I can promise you that," he said slowly, enunciating every word carefully as if it were a statement of high importance, "because you can't come back from that mirror, Y/N. Sirius is gone, and if you went after Bellatrix, you would've followed right behind him."

A world without Sirius, where you couldn't bring him back to you had been unbearable the first time. But this time, you realised, as you fell backwards, as you fainted, there wasn't even a human possibility that you could get Sirius back.

He was gone.

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The letters were your prized possession.

You kept them in a box in the cupboard, right next to the cassette player. And after a few months, when thinking about him didn't cause you to go into states of inconsolable grief, every Saturday night, you'd allow yourself to reminisce, listening to the mixtapes while you read his letters.

You didn't think there'd been a Saturday night where you hadn't spent the whole time sobbing once you were finished, even though now, you could console yourself afterwards.

You didn't think there would be a Saturday you didn't cry over his letters.

And as you stared at the letters once more, at the ink words that were the only relics you had of Sirius, that you were certain you would see in your mind until you died, you realised that what he'd addressed you as all that time, that small four-lettered anagram that you'd thought so creative and romantic of him, could be rearranged to a word combination that was now more accurate to you than the sweet nickname of the past. Because he wasn't only the love of your life, he was something else.

Loss of my life.