#petrificus

[bccksmarts]

Cormac: Wouldn't mind, uh… getting on a first-name basis, if you know what I mean.

Leave my girl ALONE. I only, only allow this with Theodore Nott and even Blaise Zabini bc it's teasing and they're Slytherins. Cormac though, defo wants in her knickers and only in her knickers.

Wanker.

[rafesslxt]

SUPP IM BACK WITH ANOTHER REQUEST!! How about professor riddle marks ur work but u didn't get good grades so he punishes u? xoxo mattheosslut22

omg i smiled at this like a fool and my boyfriend asked me what I was smiling about hahaha - yes my real boyfriend, not mattheo duh

thank you for requesting doll 🫶🏻 I‘m already writing a professor one shot right now but with more plot, just have to finish it 👀

Bad student | Professor!Mattheo Riddle

summary: Professor Riddle and you have a special agreement.

warnings: professor x student so don‘t read if you don‘t like, kissing, teasing, fingering, unprotected p in v

words: 2,4k

I looked down at the paper I got back from Professor Riddle. I got an F. Fuck. My gaze wanders up as he looks at me with raised eyebrows and a kind of disappointed look on his face. "You might want to come to me after class." he says in a chilli tone.

Professor Riddle and I have an agreement. A secret one. If I continue to write bad notes, he stops fucking me. As a motivation. And If I get good ones, I get a reward - which is his dick. As a motivation of course.

I sigh and nod but he already left to give the rest of the students their papers back, which of course were all better than mine.

He continues with class and tries to explain everything but I only can concentrate on what‘s going to happen after this class. It is the last one I have today which means I have time and don‘t need to rush out, which is good. Or bad? I don‘t know yet and that‘s exactly what worries me.

The ring interrupts my thoughs and brings me back to the reality. That I‘m alone with him. I swallow the clump in my throat down and gather my things together.

As I walk to the front of the classroom and towards his desk he doesn‘t even look at me. I breath out, loudly. " Sooo.." i start and try to get him to look up but he still doesn‘t.

While correcting another test and sqribbling something on it he talks " You know what our arrangement was,right? " "Mattheo I - I mean Professor I‘m really sorry okay? I promise it won‘t happen again!" I almost begged. I couldn‘t imagine losing him and our sessions, they got me addicted.

"Yeah you said that the last few times you got a bad grade but now an F? No y/n." "Pleease, fuck there has to be something that I can do! I‘m literally begging you."

I saw him smirking a little and I knew he loved to hear me beg like this, litte fucker.

"I swear I‘m always paying attention I just - I didn‘t have had time to study with quidditch and everything." I wasn‘t even lying on that.

"Prove it. I‘ll ask you Questions and you‘ll have to get at least.. 8 out them right. If not, you can come back when you write good once again after the holiday‘s"

I looked at him in shock. "Holidays?!“ "Yeah, the next test we write is after the holidays." I shook my head, not able to live that long without that dick. I know how desperate I sound, but that was exactly how good he fucked me. I tried to forget him, tried to find fun somewhere else but It was useless with these boys at school. He just knew every single move to get me trembling under his touch.

"Okay okay.. give me those questions." "Sit down." I did as soon as he told me to and looked up at him as he stands up and walks to the desk I‘m sitting on.

"First question: Let‘s start with a easy one.. Which spell will cast a body bind upon an enemy?" he asks me, looking directly into my eyes. I lick my lips before answering. "Petrificus Totalus."

"What‘s the strongest love potion in the world?" I started smiling when the memory of him showing it to us last week came back. "Amortentia." I answered him. "What did you smell?" he asks curious as he slowly places his hands beside me on the table, getting closer to my body. "Does that count as a question?" i ask him in a teasing tone. "Answer." he says in a demanding one but I didn‘t miss the excitement in his eyes." So I answer him. "You."

"Smelled you too.“ he mumbles as he gets closer to my neck which leaves me nervous and with goosebumps all over my body.

"What is your only defense against the Imperius Curse?" I felt his lips brush against my skin but still not kissing it which made me even more desperate. "There is no defense.." i answer lost. "Wrong." he whispers and bites the skin on my soft spot. I whine and squeeze my eyes shut. "M-maybe I need a little motivation.." i started and looked down at his shirt.

He rolled his eyes but still smirked a little as my hands found the buttons to his shirt. While I opened them he took out his wand from his back pocket of his jeans and spelled the door shut.

When I opened the last button I pushed the material to the side and let my hands glide over his abs which he knew i love so much. "Don‘t get too eager baby. You already got one wrong." Now I rolled my eyes as my fingers followed the contour of his abs. "Won‘t happen again."

"No matter how many legs you have, they'll all dance if you're cursed with what jinx?" I snort and answer "Tarantallegra. Easy." He nods and asks his next question, his face now on my throat again. "Which potion acts as a truth drug?" I swallow as I feel his soft lips now ghost over my skin again. I open my mouth a few seconds before answering. "Veritaserum."

His lips now meet my skin and I moan. "Correct." He murmurs, leaving wet and passionate kisses all over my throat. His hands find their way to my knees, leaving them there.

"One side effect of the Draught of Peace, If done incorrectly?" he asks me while letting his hands wander up my legs towards my tights slowly. I press my lips together as I feel myself getting wetter.

"Answer, I know you‘re a smart girl." he grins, kissing along my jaw, sending shivers down my spine.

"Irreversible sleep. " "That‘s right, good girl." he starts playing with the hem of my skirt.

"Who created the main ingredient in the Elixir of Life?" "Nicolas Flammel." He nods and wanders towards my mouth with his lips. I start to get impatient and shift slighty on the table, making him smile again. "3 more baby."

"What is the final ingredient needed for Polyjuice Potion?" " Hair." As I answer correct, his lips connect with mine. My mouth almost opens itself when it feels his tounge gliding over my bottom lip. His hand moves further under my skirt, his fingers now right in front of my underwear. "I can already feel the heat from you." he groans against my lips before his tounge explores my mouth.

I let my hands wander to his back, where I scratch his skin slighty, sending shivers down his spine this time. "Hmm love when you do that." "I know."

He pulls away from my mouth a few inches and looks into my eyes. God his eyes. "When must Wolfsbane Potion be taken to be effective?" Shit. I really don‘t know. I think he saw it in my eyes when he lifted his eyebrows at me. "Uhm –" "Come on. We had this topic only a few weeks ago." "The week leading up to a full moon?" I ask more than answering.

I see a smirk forming on his lips and his head shaking. "So much for 'i listen to your classes', huh?" I groan in frustration. "Are you enjoying the thought of not fucking me for that long?" I ask him almost a little mad.

"No baby, my hand doesn‘t feel like you. But I know you‘ll feel even better after weeks of not riding my cock like you love to do." Wait. His hand? Doesn‘t he have like a tons of women at his feet? But I didn’t have that much time to think about it.

"Name me all of the Unforgiveable Curses." "Uhm – Avada Kedavra, Imperio and .. Crucio." He nods in approval and suddenly I can feel his fingers ghost over my damp underwear.

"Fuck baby, are you always this wet while answering your tests? Maybe I should help you next time so you don‘t write F‘s in my class hm?"

"Ask the last one." I say in a desperate voice. If I get this one right I can fuck him, If I get it wrong, these holidays will be the longest I ever had.

"Okay baby, now concentrate yeah? We had this last potion lesson. How long does Felix Felicis take to prepare?" I smile brightly at him as I instantly knew the answer to it. "6 months." i answer.

"Fuck thank god." he groans and pulls me closer to his body, my legs wrapping around his hips. "10 would have been enough." I answer him, my hands already in his soft curls, tugging at the ends which made him groan even more.

He picks me up and sits me down on his desk, pushing my upper body back. "Gonna give you your reward now baby. You were such a smart girl." he starts praising me. "Well, have a good teacher." "Oh yeah?" he smirks and pulls my skirt off. "Hmm, Professor Snape is actually really nice." Suddenly I feel pain flowing through my thigh, making me hiss.

I look down at him as he starts to kiss the skin he just bit. "Careful baby, don‘t forget who‘s in charge here." he mutters against my thigh, nibbling on it and preppering it with wet kisses. My hands find their way into his curly hair. "Please.." i whisper as he does the same to my other thigh.

"I would miss those little begs so much If I wouldn‘t have had them to hear over holidays." he mumbles against my skin, his lips now on my underwear. He groans as he pulls it down and sees my glistening folds.

And just like a starving man he pushed his fingers through my folds before lapping at my clit, making me bite down on my lip instantly. "Shit.." I breath out, closing my eyes too. "Nuh uh baby, look at me while I eat that sweet pussy of yours." he smirks when my eyes opened up again.

I look down at him, seeing just his eyes and a bit of his nose. Not once does he look away while eating me out and I can see the desire he's holding back right now clearly.

I feel him sliding two fingers inside me without a warning, groaning when they just slipped inside like nothing.

"Fuck me, please.." I beg, not being able to wait any longer. He lets go of me, his mouth and chin glistening from my wetness. I see him licking his lips, with half a smile, almost making me come just from the sight.

"Gonna pound that pussy numb, baby. Just preparing you for what will happen over the holidays." Since we had that agreement, I stayed almost every holidays here so I could spent them with him. "You're staying, right?" he asks as he sees me in thoughts. I start smiling and nod. " Of course." "Hmm good girl."

He pulls me closer to him again until my legs wrap around his hips. His hands open his belt, pushing his jeans and boxer shorts down, revealing his already throbbing cock.

He lets the tip glide over my clit teasing me. His mouth is open, breathing heavy and looking at me through his lashes. "Ready Baby?" "Uh-huh." I mumble, nodding before he finally pushes inside me.

"Fuck yes, so fucking tight." he groans as he slowly pushes inch for inch inside. I let my head fall back and bite down on my bottom li to not moan too loud.

He starts thrusting forward with his hips, making the table squeak against the floor and echoing through the classroom. "I swear I will never get tired of this pussy." he smirks down at me while his words send butterflies down my stomach. I let out a little whine as his right hand wanders up to my throat, cocking me just so slightly but good.

"You still gonna write bad grades, huh?" he ask me, thrusting harder now. "N-no?" I answer but it sounds more like a question. Suddenly he pulls out and turns me around so I'm laying flat with my stomach on the desk. He spreads my legs and pushes inside me again, putting his whole weight on me.

A moan slips past my lips but he puts his hand over my mouth, grinning arrogant. "Let me guess, 'oh daddy it's too much', right?" he mocks while rocking my whole shit into the table.

He pulls his hand away from my mouth and wraps it around my throat again, squeezing with more pressure than before. "Shit Mattheo" I groan, letting my eyes roll back into my head.

"What is it baby? Thought you're able to handle it hm? Should I stop?" "No, no don't stop." I whine out at the though of losing the feeling of him.

Suddenly I feel a sharp pain going through my body. I look behind me over my shoulder and see Mattheo smiling at me like a innocent angel. Yeah, right. He slaps my ass again, this time harder.

"What? Did you think this is gonna be all nice and shit? You still wrote a bad grade. Gonna have to punish you at least a little hm."

He does it again, over and over again until my whole ass is fire red. His thrusting of course continues without faltering. "Fuck I'm close." I groan, my eyes already shut. His hand slides under my body towards my clit and starts rubbing circles on it with his fingers.

"Come around my cock baby." And shit, I did. I feel my walls clenching around him, milking him almost. I hear him groan behind me and his thrust getting more uneven. "O-oh fuckk.." I feel him coming inside me, his head falling down against my shoulder.

"Shit, you always do this to me." he says before kissing my skin. "What do you mean?" "You always pull me in, would have fucked you no matter what grade you got. You just got me wrapped around your finger." I smile at his words, knowing damn well he got me hooked too.

The end was Kida rushed I'm sorry, let me know If you liked it 👀

Taglist: 💞💗💕

@justarandomcanadiantransdude @sofa-couch26 @nevereverthem @little-miss-naill @kolsangel @atadoddinnit @auxcordlawd @helena-1105 @itsarajr @jolly4holly @hisparentsgalllery @slytherinscreamqueen @mixvchelle @miribenh26 @azalea3leaza @littlemadamred

thank you for every support 🫶🏻

Sorry it took so long but had a writing block

xoxo sarah <3

[ash-whimsicalfanfic]

We Got That Love, The Crazy Kind

Mattheo Riddle X Fem OC/Reader

Word Count: 2153

Warnings: Suggestive, fluff, mild language, torture, blood…

Prompt: Mattheo is awkward about showing affection to you in public, so you both are in a bit of an argument. However, Lavendar has a crush on Mattheo and you’ve had enough. Oliver decides to flirt with you and Mattheo wasn’t having it.

*Y/N’s POV*

“How long are you and Mattheo going to keep up this silent treatment?” Pansy asks, the both of us walking towards the courtyard.

“Until he can start treating me like I’m his girlfriend. I’m tired of the way he treats me in public. It’s like…he’s embarrassed of me.” I say, shaking my head upset.

I saw that he was sitting by a tree with Lorenzo Berkshire, Blaise Zambini, Draco Malfoy, and Theodore Nott. Our friends, however since this whole argument with Mattheo and I started, I’ve been sitting elsewhere with Pansy.

She didn’t have to sit with me, but she was a good friend even though I knew how close she was with the guys. Not to mention, Draco is her boyfriend. Yet, she decides to sit with me so I won’t be alone.

“I heard he broke up with her.” I hear.

“Yeah. They did. Because he couldn’t get enough of me. Mattheo…he’s good.” Lavender says.

“Whatever you do, and whatever your thinking, don’t do it.” Pansy pleads, but I stand as she curses.

I start walking towards the table she sat at with her friends as Pansy started to speed walk towards the tree where the guys were. I grabbed Lavendar by her hair and she cries out in pain. I drag her off the bench and let her fall to the ground. I wait until she stands up, glaring at me. I lunge at her, pinning her to the wall as I punch her repeatedly.

All I saw was red.

I’ve heard girls talk about Mattheo, but typically they stop when they see the glare I give them. Lavender doesn’t know when to stop.

“I don’t know what your obsession with my boyfriend is, but I’ve had it.” I snap breathlessly between punches.

“Ms. Y/L/N, enough.” Umbridge warns.

I ignore her when I see her pull her wand out. She points it at me.

“Petrificus Totalus!” She shouts, but I pulled my wand free, pointing it in the direction of her and shout, “Protego!”

She gasps, seeming shocked I would fight a spell. I let Lavendar fall to the ground as her friends rush towards her. I look at Umbridge who looked red in the face and was ready to fire another spell off at me.

“Expelliarmus!” I shout.

Her wand goes flying away from her and I storm out of the courtyard, heading towards the Slytherin dorms. I get to mine, slamming the door shut and locking it before going to my bathroom. I close the door, locking it as I look at myself in the mirror.

What have I done?

I’m suppose to mad at him, yet I can’t ignore what Lavendar says…he wouldn’t do that to me. He wouldn’t be with someone else…right? No…that’s…that’s not my Mattheo.

Who said he was still your Mattheo?

I shake my head, ignoring the stinging in my eyes. I turn the water on and watch the water turn a red-pink color as it washes away Lavendar’s and I’s blood. I grab my wand, pointing at one hand.

“Episkey.” I whisper.

I watch the hand heal before I grab my wand and point it at my other hand, doing the same. I look at myself in the mirror. Who have I become?

I was forced to stand at the front of the class and receive my punishment from Umbridge. She grabs her chair and makes me sit.

“You’ll be punished for the fight you started and then you’ll be punished for ignoring orders from a Professor.” She says.

She gave me a notepad and a quill. I was very aware of what this meant.

“How many lines?” I ask.

“I’ll let you know when it’s finished. I want you to write, “I will not disobey orders”, understood?” She asks.

“Understood.” I say shortly.

I clench my jaw, starting to write my lines as if it didn’t bother me. I ignored the stinging at the back of my eyes and focused on the quill in hand as she taught away. I take in a slow deep breath before letting it out. Blood dripped down my hand and was dripping to the floor. My hands shook slightly, but I continued to do as asked.

“Alright. Good. It’s been half the class. How’s your hand?” She asks.

“Peachy.” I say bluntly, looking up at her with a blank stare.

“Is this you talking back?” She asks.

“You’d know if I was talking back. What next?” I ask.

“I don’t think your punishment is working,” she says as she pulls her wand out, “imperio.”

“What the hell are you doing?” I ask.

“Take the quill, write on your arm. Write mudblood. Until I say stop.” She says.

“You can’t do this!” Mattheo snaps.

“It’s against the rules.” Harry adds, looking quite frightened.

I grimace as I bring the quill to my arm and it digs into it as I write the saying I’ve heard all across my life. I close my eyes, my hand moving and continuously writing “mudblood” into my arm, going deeper each time.

“Mr. Riddle, Mr. Potter, enough. I can punish my students how I like. Maybe this will teach her a lesson.” She says, before going back to teaching.

I opened my eyes, looking at the word that was carved into my arm. A word that haunts me far too much. Maybe that’s why Mattheo is so embarrassed of me. I’m a mudblood. That is who I will always be.

“Alright Ms. Y/L/N, you can stop.” She says and I felt a weight lifted off me.

I throw the quill and pad of paper in her direction as I stand, walking out of the room as I ignore her calls. I get to the Slytherin dorms and Snape stops me.

“It’ll scar, but let me heal it.” He says.

“It’s fine.” I mutter.

He grabs my arm with a sigh, using his wand to heal it. I nod before walking away towards my dorm where I close the door and lock it.

I pull my shirt off and pull on a long-sleeve, wanting to hide that horrid word before I lay on my bed. I hear a knock on my door, but I ignore it.

“It’s me.” Pansy says.

I stay quiet, staring at the wall. She sighs, knocking again.

“Let me in. Let us in. We want to make sure your okay. That wasn’t okay of Umbridge to do. That was…torture.” She says.

“I’m okay. I want to be alone, so leave me alone.” I say calmly, fighting my turmoil of emotions.

I couldn’t avoid them forever. I avoided them for a good two weeks, by holing myself up in my dorm. Snape brought me my work, but he said I had to return to my classes today.

I was dressed in a long-sleeve shirt and a pair of ripped jeans. I never wore long-sleeves, but I couldn’t get that horrid word off my arm.

I put my hair up in a messy bun, looking at myself in the mirror blankly. I’ve gotten paler over the past two weeks which could be from not eating like I normally should. I had bags under my eyes and my eyes in general just looked tired.

I grab my bag and wand before I began to head towards Umbridge’s class. I walk in and she looks at me surprised.

“And I thought you left Hogwarts.” She mocks.

“And I wish someone Avada Kedavra’d you. Yet, your still here.” I say tiredly, going to my empty seat at the back of the class.

“Do we need to repeat your punishment?” She asks.

“Go on with teaching. Your punishment did nothing the first time and I doubt it would do anything this time.” I snap.

“And detention, Potter. I said, Cedric’s death was a tragic accident.” She says, turning her focus on him.

“Like your birth?” I ask annoyed.

“Y/n, enough.” Mattheo’s whispers harshly.

“Y/L/N, leave my classroom now. I’ve had enough.” She says calmly.

“Gladly.” I say, standing to gather my stuff as she starts to lecture me.

“Umbitch. Lecturing me, and shouting at me, and telling me to hurry up isn’t going to get me to move faster. You should’ve been killed months ago cause you are such a pain in the ass. How did you end up here? Honestly because you are pretty fucked up,” I say, laughing before looking at her, “and you don’t own me.”

I walk out of the room as Draco whistles.

“Damn.” Mattheo mutters.

I was in the courtyard working on my studies as everyone else finally filed out. I was sitting at the table Pansy and I had been occupying before I holed myself up in my room. Pansy and the guys join us.

“Hey, how are you?” Pansy asks softly.

“I don’t need pity and treated like I’m so broken glass doll.” I say, flipping the page of my textbook.

“We are your friends. We care about you.” She says.

“Well care less.” I say annoyed.

“Snape said it scarred.” She says.

“And if it did?” I ask.

“I know how much you hate that word. Your a powerful witch though. Better than Granger. Let me see it.” She says.

“Y/N.” Oliver says.

“Yes, Oliver?” I ask, looking up.

“Can we talk…alone?” He asks.

My eyebrows furrow, but I nod slowly. I follow him towards a tree that wasn’t occupied, away from everyone. My eyes flicker to my table to see that they kept glancing over and Mattheo was watching intently. I didn’t miss the look of jealously.

“Would you like to go out with me sometime?” He asks.

“Your pathetic, Oliver! You called me over here, to ask me out when you know I have boyfriend!” I exclaim, glaring at him.

“He doesn’t have to know. And he acts like you both aren’t together anyway. I can treat you better.” He says.

“In your wildest dreams, Wood. Get away.” I snap, going to walk past him, but he grabs my arm.

I pull my arm free, backing myself up against a tree as he steps forward. He brushes a strand of hair out of my face that must’ve fallen out from the bun.

“It’s always been you, Y/L/N. Mattheo doesn’t have to know about this. You and I…we’d be a better couple. I could treat you better.” He says.

“You’re a real piece of work, Wood. I love Mattheo, even if he doesn’t show his feelings towards me in public, I love him. Nothing will happen between you and me. Now, let me go.” I snap.

*Mattheo’s POV*

“I think Oliver is flirting with her.” Draco says.

I watch her and could tell she was uncomfortable. She seems upset after whatever he says and was glaring at him. She goes to walk past him, but he grabs her arm and I clench my jaw.

“Don’t do it man.” Theo warns.

“Ah shit. He’s backed her up against the tree and is going in for a kiss.” Lorenzo says.

I get up, storming towards the two of them and I push Oliver down to the ground as Pansy pulls Y/N into a hug.

“Okay, motherfucker now you got my attention.” I say, grinning as I start throwing punches at him.

“Not again.” Lorenzo sighs.

“Mattheo! Come on man! Stop! Umbridge will flip!” Draco snaps.

He and Lorenzo were trying to pull me off of Oliver, but all I saw was red. He touched her and he knew she is mine.

“Don’t you ever fucking touch her again! She’s mine, Wood! Next time I’ll kill you!” I snap.

“Mattheo…please.” She whispers.

I freeze, before looking over my shoulder to see that Pansy and Theodore were holding her back from coming to me. I’ll thank them for that later. Oliver hits me, and I turn back to him and hit him again before getting up.

I walk to her, pulling her towards me. She looks up at me with watery eyes. I lose a hand in her hair, messing up the bun. I pull her closer to me as I lean down and kiss her roughly.

Her hands rest on my chest as she kisses me back. I pull away, resting my head against her forehead as I look into her gorgeous (your eye color) eyes.

“I love you.” She says softly.

“Your mine.” I snap.

“I’m yours.” She says, smiling slightly.

I pull away before throwing her over my shoulder. She gasps, hitting my back as she snaps at me to put her down.

“Not happening. I’ll put you down when we get to my dorm.” I say and her cheeks flush as Draco “ooohs”.

“Mattheo!” She exclaims embarrassed.

“They got that love.” Lorenzo chuckles.

“Yeah, the crazy kind.” Pansy teases.

[miniwrites1]

Unforgivable - Ominis Gaunt

Requested - ominis reacting to the reader being tortured with crucio

Word Count - 1653

Themes - Angst & Fluff

You walked with Ominis and Sebastian to charms class, discussing your upcoming N.E.W.T’s when Sebastian mentioned his plans for the evening.

“I need to gather some ingredients for potions class tomorrow, fancy exploring the forest a bit?” Sebastian asked. Ominis laughed, there was no way he would go into the forbidden forest during the day, let alone at night.

“You must be joking; I’m not going in there.” Ominis replied, shaking his head at the thought of it. Everyone knew that the forest was dangerous and that students were expressly forbidden to enter, that didn’t seem to bother Sebastian though.

You thought about the opportunity to explore the forbidden forest more, contemplating whether the risk of what lied within the forest was worth what you might get out of it.

“I’ll go with you.” You said confidently, certain that nothing was too much for you to handle. You’d fought spiders, trolls and dark wizards before, so you doubted there was anything in there that would be too much for you to handle. Ominis sighed, he didn’t want either of you to go into the forest, he’d seen you both come back damaged after your adventures there in fifth year.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join us Ominis?” Sebastian asked. Ominis shook his head, letting out a disgruntled ‘no’. He knew that he couldn’t stop either of you from going, no matter how much he protested, you were both as stubborn as each other.

You left shortly after charms class, armed with wands and a small stash of wiggenweld just in case anything went wrong. You’d taken the quicker route to the forest, cutting across fields, trying to stay away from prying eyes of the nearby villages in case anyone attempted to report what you were doing to headmaster Black.

“What do you need for your potions?” You asked Sebastian in a hushed voice, not wanting to speak too loudly as to not alert anyone or anything that may be hiding nearby. Sebastian motioned to a cave just off the main path through the forest, explaining that the cave contained large amounts of Horklump which was essential for the potion. You rolled your eyes at Sebastian’s frugalness; you found his refusal to pay for potion ingredients slightly ridiculous.

The cave was vast, peppered with Horklump across the floor. Sebastian was right, it was a goldmine for potion ingredients. You watched on as Sebastian gathered his ingredients, taking his time to pick only the best from the bunch. You spent around an hour picking Horklump and another hour just exploring the cave. It brought memories back from your fifth year and how many caves you’d explored then.

As you were exiting the cave, something felt off. You weren’t sure what it was, whether it was the slight smell of burnt wood nearby or the eery silence that fell as you left, but the next thing you knew, you were flat on your back with your ears ringing, bright lights flashing in your eyes. The burning smell had intensified, was there a fire? You weren’t sure, but the next thing that you registered was Sebastian yelling your name in between casting multitudes of spells. Then everything went silent, you couldn’t hear Sebastian yelling anymore.

As your vision became less blurred, you turned your head towards the voices, catching a glimpse of Sebastian laid on the floor next to you. Poachers. You recognised them immediately. It seemed like you and Sebastian had stumbled across their camp as you’d approached the cave.

“She’s awake! Petrificus totalus!” One of the poachers yelled, casting the spell rendering you unable to move.  Where was Ominis when you needed him?

 Ominis stood by the main gate awaiting your return, it was now an hour past the time that you said you’d be back and he’d begun to worry. He regretted not pushing harder for you not to go into the forest but reminded himself that you were very stubborn, especially when it came to breaking the rules. He sighed, not willing to wait any longer for you and Sebastian. He started the long, dark walk to the forbidden forest with only his wand for guidance.

As he approached the forest, he heard faint yelling coming from inside the treeline. His brow furrowed; he couldn’t make out the words. He tried to shake off his nerves being this close to the forest at night, he truly despised the forest. He continued along the uneven path, walking quickly as to avoid any unwanted attention, but at he continued the yelling began to get louder. It sounded like spells being cast. His heartrate picked up, the last thing he wanted was to come across a fight.

Then he heard it, a pained scream. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

“No! No! Please don’t!” He heard through the trees, heart sinking as he recognised your voice begging for mercy. He began running through the forest, trying to find you.

“Crucio!” He heard, followed by another pained scream which trailed off into a whimper. His stomach dropped; they were torturing you. Ominis grasped his wand tighter, running full speed now towards the sounds.

He stopped short of the cave where you and Sebastian had been, listening closely to what was being said.

“What do we do with them? They know were here!”

“They don’t leave here.”

Ominis felt like he was going to be sick, they were going to torture you to death. He knew he needed to do something. Gathering every ounce of courage that he had, he stepped out of the tree line just as another curse was cast. You let out another pained scream, tears streaming down your face, you wanted it to end, for the poachers to just be done with you.

“Expelliarmus!” Ominis yelled as he burst into the clearing at the mouth of the cave, taking the poachers by surprise. He cast of one spell after the next, using everything that he’d learnt in defence against the dark arts and his anger at them causing you harm until all of the poachers were unconscious or had ran away. He was breathing heavily, exhausted from the solo fight he’d just been through but quickly turned to you when he heard your pained groan.

“(Y/N), please don’t move, you’re hurt.” He spoke softly, kneeling down and cradling you in his lap. Your chest felt heavy from the pain but relief washed through you like a tidal wave, he’d come for you. Ominis looked over to where Sebastian lay as he heard a pained grunt, Sebastian sat up and held his head in his hands.

“We need to get you both to Madam Blainey. Now.” Ominis stated firmly, brushing the hair out of your mud streaked, tear-stained face. Seeing you like this broke his heart, he would kill every single one of the poachers for what they’d done to you.

“When did you get here?” Sebastian asked. Ominis glared at him, silencing him immediately.

Sebastian pushed himself up from the ground, his body aching after the lost fight and scanned his surroundings, noticing Ominis cradling you in his arms. Sebastian’s face fell, you’d been hurt badly.

“What happened?” Sebastian asked concerned. You were shivering in Ominis’ arms.

“They cast the cruciatus curse on her repeatedly, she begged them Sebastian, begged for mercy and they gave her none.”  Ominis stated solemnly, feeling a tear escape. He quickly wiped it away with his sleeve before picking you up in his arms, the wince you made as he stood made his heart shatter.

The walk back to Hogwarts was silent, aside from an occasional groan from you when Ominis stepped heavily. You remained in his arms until he placed you on the bed in the hospital wing, Madam Blainey worriedly rushing over to you and casting multiple healing spells. Ominis wouldn’t leave your side until you were awake and coherent again, flat out refusing Madam Blainey and Professor Weasley’s requests for him to let you rest.

He sat by your bedside until the next afternoon, watching over you until you woke up. Your eyes fluttered open, taking in your surroundings. Your eyes scanned the room, you were in the hospital wing and someone was holding your hand. You turned your head slightly to see who it was.

“Ominis?” You spoke softly, Ominis’s head snapped towards you.

“You’re awake!” He almost yelled, immediately grabbing Madam Blainey’s attention. All Ominis wanted to do was hold you, to him he’d nearly lost you, a thought that he couldn’t bear.

“Mr Gaunt, need I remind you that I have other patients who are resting?” Madam Blainey scolded Ominis, making you smile slightly. You noticed that he was still holding your hand, you squeezed slightly, not wanting him to let go. He glanced back to you.

“I apologise Madam Blainey.” Ominis said sheepishly, not wanting to be removed from the hospital wing. Madam Blainey huffed checked you over.

“Coherent, awake, are you in any pain?” Madam Blainey asked. You shook your head, it was only a small lie.

“Very well, (Y/L/N) you may return to your common room. Mr Gaunt will escort you back.” And with that she walked away from the bed. You breathed a sigh of relief.

“I’m never trusting Sebastian on one of his adventures again.” You laughed as you pushed yourself up from the bed with one hand, the other still firmly held by Ominis. Ominis helped you pull yourself out of bed and walked with you back to your common room. As you were about to enter, Ominis pulled you back and into a hug which you gladly returned. He never wanted to let you go.

A/N - Friends to lovers anyone??

[ginevrapng]

you're surrounded by your boyfriend!neville and his friends in the gryffindor common room. his friends, not yours. you and neville have been together for a few years now but you still remember admiring him in the beginning of your hogwarts years. you always fancied him, even then, he was always so nervous but kind. it wasn't hard to figure out that he was insecure and at a young age you hated the majority of gryffindors that neville called his friends who would always make jokes at his expense that you overheard. it always frustrated you, you wanted to go up to them and slap them while dragging neville away but he didn't even know you then.

he's never held any ill will towards his housemates years later, they're his friends after all, but you do. you don't mind his friends but calling them your friends is a push. you still don't like hermione for casting petrificus totalus on him in your first year though and realistically you're probably being a bit extreme with your feelings towards them but you know that neville would feel the exact same way the other way round so it doesn't make you feel too bad about it.

you and neville are curled up in an armchair, you're sitting on his lap and laying your head against his chest while he's got his hands around your soft middle. it's getting late and you know you should probably head to your dorm before you fall asleep on neville but you're too comfortable and you don't want to leave yet. you know he's equally as tired you as his geordie accent is more noticeable when he's tired, he leans closer to you, pressed up against your cheek for only you to hear and whispers, "you sleepy flower?"

you make a hum of affirmation and nod slowly. "me too, i'm paggered," he tapers off as he yawns. "do you want t' come to bed?" he asks as he lifts you off him and gets up before offering you his hand to take.

you perk up slightly. "with you?"

he chuckles deeply and tiredly. "yeah, come on petal."

you softly smile and close your eyes momentarily before taking his hand as he pulls you up. some people have already gone up to their dorms but there are still some stragglers, both you and your boyfriend hasn't spoken to anyone in the past half an hour though just holding each other close. as you make your way past the remaining people left in the common room you say your quick goodbyes, "bye guys," you give a small wave with your unoccupied hand and then rub your eyes afterwards as you follow neville to his room.

[novelizt]

EXPECTO PATRONUM II ☁︎ ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

GENRE ➺ HOGWARTS AU [slytherin! lockwood x fem! ravenclaw! reader]. rivals to lovers (and a dash of 'everyone knows but them'). fluff and angst.

WC ➺ 17.4k

SYNOPSIS ➺ after a six year rivalry with lockwood, your patronus suddenly matches his when it didn't before.

DISCLAIMER ➺ reader is implied to be shorter than lockwood. appearance of harry potter next gen characters and a few ocs. lockwood calls reader 'sweetheart' and 'dearest vexation', (+'my girl). prefect! lockwood. jessica lockwood lives!! (i also headcanon him being a cunning-flirt, so lockwood might read slightly ooc.)

WARNINGS ➺ strained family dynamics (for reader). boggarts, and a lot of unpolished dialogue. QUILL KIPPS. blood and injuries (tending to wounds). mentions of kids and marriage at the end.

⚜ PART 1 | SERIES MASTERLIST

In true Slytherin and Gryffindor fashion, neither of the boys hesitated. Lockwood swung a hex at you. You deflected with a basic protego. He advanced, closing the distance to aim better.

On the other side, Daria flung offensive spells at James. She managed to cast levicorpus on him. He hung upside down, chained in the air. That didn't dampen the flames of his spirit. He threw more charms and jinxes at her. She responded just as quickly.

You almost lost sight of Lockwood before he casted an impressive disillusionment charm on himself. He melted into the background as your blood rushed. You opened your senses and spun revelios in attempt to unveil him.

James's feet found the floor thanks to Lockwood, and the Potter striked a petrificus totalus back at Daria. Instead of turning his attention on you, James nodded to the air and sat like his part was done. He was heaving but smirking.

The hairs on your neck rose and you turned to dodge a stupefy the still disillusioned Lockwood slung at you. You could only hear your breathing and your shoes tapping.

Every hair on your body stood as paranoia sunk in. You're tempted to give up, but you remembered who you were up against and regained your resolve.

You backed against one side of the cage, leaving three directions he could come at you from. In that position, he couldn't catch you from behind.

You'd obviously underestimated Lockwood's growth. The last time you saw him cast a spell as impressive as his disillusionment was the sleeping trance charm he used on the dragon. He used your lack of knowledge against you and you were both impressed and frightened by it.

You remind yourself that you were a Ravenclaw, one of the most highly acclaimed students under Professor Flitwick and the brightest witch of your age.

Everytime you won against Lockwood, it was because you were using your head. Then, it finally clicked for you.

You held out your wand and went on a limb as you spoke, "Accio Prefect Badge."

You heard a gasp to your left and spun your wand to cast revelio. Lockwood's face appeared, speeding towards you, left hand trying to remove the badge he often boasted about. You couldn't help but smile, raising your wand, ready to cast.

His wand rose to rival yours. You heard the beginnings of an explosion spell before adjusting yourself.

Your hand was furious and your lips moved at a speed you didn't know was possible. The beginnings of his firework charm surged towards you before the sound was cut off by the crippling noise akin to metal meeting metal.

The explosion was engulfed by silvery light. It swallowed the flames until all that remained was your patronus.

They say the devil's in the details, and you forgot about one in particular detail. Your smile faded as a silence befell the room.

Your patronus had stayed a crane. Its wings, pearlescent and broad as it hovered, a carbon copy of Lockwood's.

There was static in your ears. Your face drained of colour and your heart plummeted to your stomach.

The patronus's glow casted a faint veil between you and Lockwood. He looked back at you with a shocked but not surprised expression. Neither of you expected James to raise his wand and stupefy you.

—

Everything was all black for a while. You had no dreams. Yet, somewhere in the void, you began to hear giggles, familiar and chilling.

"Come on now," one spoke.

"Stumped by a stupefy!" another added, this one more energetic.

"And by Jamesie, no less."

"Potters are trouble," the other tutted.

The first gasped. "I saw her lids twitch!"

"We know you're awake already."

You cracked your eyes open, and, sure enough, you're greeted by two golden-haired rascals; Lorcan and Lysander Scamander.

Three years your juniors, they were Ravenclaw's notorious twins who were known to be as caring as they were mischievous.

Your throat dried, your neck stiffened, and you wished the duel was all a dream. You tried to sit up, to no avail.

Lorcan jumped into action, helping you up by propping a pillow behind you whilst Lysander passed you a cup of water. It wasn't spiked with anything, you pleasantly discovered. You finished the whole glass in one fell swoop.

When you shifted to return the glass to the bedside table, you felt a tug on your opposite arm and nearly jumped when you spotted curls of brown crushing your hand. He was slouched but there was no mistaking that resting sad face.

No wonder the twins were so smiley.

You turned to them. "How long has he been here?"

"Asking about him first?" Lorcan grinned.

Lysander cupped his chin. "That's awfully un-rival-like of you."

"Hush. Just tell me."

"Since you asked," Lorcan said with an attitude.

"Tony's been here since lunch," Lysander answered. You laxed. That wasn't so bad, it couldn't have been too long.

"Lunchtime yesterday," Lorcan corrected.

Your soul departed from your body.

"He would have come sooner if Madame Pomfrey didn't keep you under intensive care," Lysander continued, as if that was any better. "No visitors until she deemed you stable enough."

"He's very stubborn, you know."

"I think she knows, Lorcan."

"And you let him?" You kept your voice down but your tone was a borderline shriek.

"He wouldn't let up." Lorcan shrugged.

"Professor Flitwick said the best we could do is bring you two food and drink," Lysander backed up.

Your jaw loosened at the news. "The professors allowed this?"

The pressure on your hand lightened. Your lips smacked shut as Lockwood said, "I'm their best student, they let me do anything."

Say something smart, you told yourself. It's the only right reaction to an egoistic comment like that, but your mental function ceased at the rasp in his voice. His very, very groggy voice that made you feel like you've been hit by lightning.

One hand rested on yours while his other arm lazily held up his head. He looked like he was about to fall asleep again, yet, he looked like he hadn't slept at the same time. Gray swooped under his eyes, he turned more gaunt than the last time you saw him...

Goodness, the last time you saw him. Heat crawled up your neck.

The patronus. The crane, his crane. Now yours, too.

He knows.

The Scamander twins were on the same wavelength because Lorcan hopped onto an empty square of your bed and asked, "So... is it true?"

Lysander crossed his arms and placed them on the bed. "Did your patronus really change?"

"Did it?" Lockwood asked, just to drive the fact home. Though tired, he did that smirk-smile that you've committed to memory.

You blamed your near internal decapitation for your unaligned state of mind. You answered quietly, "It did."

Lorcan and Lysander exchanged looks. Bright-eyed, like they had just discovered a Fantastic Beast of their own. They both leaned toward you, forcing you to lean toward Lockwood to retain some of your personal bubble. He didn't mind, he even squeezed your hand to reassure you.

"How did it happen?"

"What was it before?"

"Did it happen consciously?"

"Did someone cause it to change?"

You didn't know which twin was speaking, their lips were moving at the same time. You processed their words before answering. "It just did. It was a giraffe. No, I didn't expect it to change at all. And I don't know."

The last answer wasn't really a lie. Lockwood didn't do anything special, but your patronus was now miraculously connected to his. He was involved somehow. You would be grasping at straws if you didn't consider your earlier adventures to be the catalyst.

Lorcan and Lysander had a whispery discussion while you drowned in your reverie. When they decided that they were sated with your answers, they waved you goodbye. You faintly hear a muttering of George's name and it all made sense.

George had sent the twins to gather intel because he knew you could never say no to them. That, or he was still upset at you over being dragged into the anti-Amortentia scheme. The bugger.

You sat up despite your aching head, but surrendered the moment Lockwood brushed a finger over your knuckles. It's odd to give in so quickly, but it was too late to go back on it.

Your eyes shifted to him and, just like before, his were already on you. A smile formed on his lips but it wasn't your favourite one. He gave you a tight-lipped grin that matched the ashen grey under his eyes.

"You were stupefied," he said.

You rolled your eyes and pretended not to see his smile grow. The weirdo missed seeing it.

"Unfortunately," he continued. "You had backed yourself too close to Professor's cage. The stupefy basically bludgeoned your skull against the cage and the protective spells sent you in the opposite direction."

Just hearing the technicalities made you grimace. You remained grateful he didn't mention Madam Pomfrey's methods of fixing you up. If you had broken your skull, you wanted to be ignorant of it. Lockwood understood your dread and kept the rest of the details to himself.

That still didn't answer the question that's been at the forefront of your mind. "Why are you here?"

He sucked in an audible breath, eyes wandering. Classic evasive Lockwood move. You already knew he was going to respond with a lie.

"Because I owe you one," he said.

You mastered the art of stoicism, but that didn't take away from the fact that it was harder to practise that time around.

"You don't owe me a thing," you replied, coughing away the dejection that bled into your voice. "We're even. The Romanian Longhorn incident, remember?"

"How could I forget?" He smiled at the floor. Another swipe over your knuckles that sent you into orbit. "But I would have been spell-bound for the rest of my life if you hadn't intervened."

Years—That's how long you'd been avoiding his eyes and how his emotions swam in them, but now, you couldn't convince your angel and devil to look away. Honey in a bottle eyes pried open so raw you physically felt the weight of his words, and then the shackles of your own guilt.

It clawed at your throat, coiling its gangly fingers around your windpipe and choking you until your fears were forced out. "You were spell-bound because of me."

He responded with a frigid laugh. "Are you kidding me?"

Your brows furrowed. "No? Why would I kid about something like this? You were under the influence of Amortentia. It's not the first time a tragedy had come from its misuse. Have we not learned from the story of Vol—"

The cold bit at you as he disentangled his hand from yours, pushing himself back to see you in full. "This is not about the moral of the story or what could've happened. Why are you blaming yourself?" He scoffed. "Sweetheart, you're not the one who tricked me. Some nutter did."

"Listen here," you gave a despondent sigh, crossing your arms and distancing yourself by pressing your back into the pillow. "She wouldn't have done that if you hadn't... been so fixed on me."

"Sorry, is that a sin?" He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Fancying someone that isn't her isn't a crime. You didn't do anything to hurt me. What she did was the making of her own evils."

"Fancying? Lockwood– Nevermind that. She said—"

"You value her word over mine?"

"No!" Your heart clenched, your mind raced. "Merlin, no. I just mean that you would be better off without me."

Lockwood never looked so frustrated before. Not at you, at least. He pressed his lips together, fists on his hips as he paced.

Your eyes followed in wait. There's not much else you could say. You'd let the biggest resident of your mind go in that one exchange. You didn't take into account how anxious it would make you to see him react.

He stopped, as did your heart. You sat up straighter when he let his arms fall to his sides.

"You are the most despicable woman I have ever met," he said in one breath.

You had a lot to say about that. You were offended, humiliated, and humbled all at once. Yet, he didn't let you say a thing until he finished.

"And I could easily choose some other lovely lady who doesn't give me a migraine every time I speak to them, but I can't. Because I've been taken by you the moment you called me a twat for mistaking a llama and camel even though I am the raised as a muggle between us." He stole a breath to replenish his air. "And I try to make you understand that there is no getting rid of me, but your lack of awareness is equivalent of my lack of failure—"

You rolled your eyes at that and he cracked a smile.

"And if I had to guess, it would take about a million years and triple that of worshipping before I get you to understand that I am hopelessly, irrevocably in love with you; But I'm already aware, and I'm going to spend all of my mortal years trying, and then spend the rest of our reincarnations doing that over and over just so I can be yours. Don't even try to stop me, sweetheart. You know I never give up."

Your cheeks hurt from trying to repress a smile.

"Come on," Lockwood coaxed. "No need to be shy. You can smile, sweetheart."

And so, you did. But you didn't expect the waterworks to begin.

Salty tears slid down your cheeks and into your mouth. You tried to wipe them away to preserve the rest of your dignity in the face of Anthony Lockwood but it was for naught.

Your breath hitched as your chest constricted, but it's the first time you cried tears of joy. You couldn't help but laugh amidst the pain.

Years of trying to prove yourself to your family. Years trying to meet ungodly expectations just to earn your place at their table—they return to you at the same moment. You cried for every minute you fought for a modicum of love from people who preferred pride, all while Lockwood was right there. You didn't see it until he spelled it out for you.

Lockwood washed away the shattering memories with every swipe that dried your tears, then quelled the rest of your fears as his arms came around you.

He held you fast against him. "I hate to say it, but I love the way you keep my feet on the ground. Snarky attitude and all," he said.

Your head hurt from both the injury and the crying, but you'd never felt so seen, so loved.

It was pure instinct to try and hit him. That time, he let you. Your fist met his chest with a dull thud.

"Would you look at that," he chuckled against your hair. "You got me."

He earned a soft laugh from you, and you didn't see it, but he smiled your favourite smile.

You got him in more ways than one.

—

If you admonished one thing, it was whispering behind your back. The likelihood for people to do just that tripled since the patronus business got out.

You and Lockwood, renowned for butting heads at any given opportunity, had the same patronus. They were studying magic. Of course they knew what that meant.

In the recent days, you'd taken to hiding in the confines of the library. If not, you'd be tucking yourself in your room behind a good novel.

Lockwood had taken up the same hobbies.

You pulled a book out of its space to examine the cover, just to double take and peer between the space it left behind. You'd recognise that smirk anywhere. Only Lockwood would pose all suave against a shelf like that.

He smirked. "Like what you see?"

"I don't know. An ogre is covering a pretty, rebound version of Hogwarts, A History."

He laughed all dashingly then closed the book he pretended to read. He came closer, setting his forearm on the shelf.

"I open my heart to you and you wound me. You are a cruel, cruel woman."

"If you didn't like that about me, you would have handed your heart to someone else."

"Have I told you how much I love your feistiness?"

You cheeks strained from holding back a smile. "Bugger off."

He looked thoughtful for a moment, then duly decided to drop the act. "I don't feel like being obedient today. Come with me?"

You squinted at him. "Where?"

"It's a secret. Why, you scared, smart girl?"

You pursed your lips, miffed. "Please. You're the bigger pansy between the two of us."

His smile stretched. "Prove it."

"I will."

You returned the book to its place, locking Lockwood out of view. You heard his laugh and stifled yours as he was reprimanded by Madam Pince.

—

Calling Lockwood a danger magnet was putting it lightly. The man actively sought out danger like it was weaved into his state of being.

Somebody had to keep him in check, and some Higher Being had chosen you to be his keeper. So, there you found yourself, at the margins of the Forbidden Forest in the belly of the night.

"If I die, I want a special coffin in the likely event that my corpse leaps out and strangles yours."

"Sweetheart," Lockwood set his hand between your shoulders, easing you forward. "I'd be torn to bits before I ever let anything touch a hair on your head."

"Very reassuring."

He poked his head over your shoulder just to flash you a smile. "I know."

He chuckled as you shoved his face away.

Even if you were braced in your warmest cloak, the chill of being at the thresh of such a foreboding precinct of Hogwarts was overwhelming. It was like being face to face with a Roman Longhorn, except there were more than two eyes on you. You could already see their glowing irises peering at you behind the foliage.

They scrambled for the dark when Lockwood had casted lumos, lighting up the dirt path ahead. He eased his arm over your shoulder, squeezing you to him, before trudging on.

"What are we looking for?" you whispered. In your mind, the less creatures that knew you were ever in the Forbidden Forest, the better.

Students were punished to walk through the very path you were on, and here you and Lockwood stood, walking it on your own volition. Your reason for being there was to prove an arrogant Slytherin wrong, but you were walking the path regardless.

It took a moment for Lockwood to answer. He was already looking between the branches. "Promise you won't behead me if I tell you."

"I would behead you even if I did promise."

His lip quirked. "A spitfire as always."

You feigned politeness. "May I know now, please?"

"Since I'm doomed either way, I won't tell you that we're on the hunt for a unicorn."

Your feet dug into the dirt, halting Lockwood in his path. Disbelief written on your face. "A unicorn?!"

"Well, 'hunt' is an abrasive word. I suppose 'find' is a more apt verb—"

You slapped his chest, and he turned to you with a grin so blinding it outdid the lumos.

You motioned to the vast forest ahead. "Spotting one is as likely as becoming friends with a centaur."

"It isn't impossible," he quipped, as if that would inspire you.

"Lockwood," You pinched the bridge of your nose and exhaled, expelling all your murder ideations in the same breath. "You are as reckless as a Gryffindor."

"I take full offence. Gryffindors rush in with no clear goal. I, on the contrary, have a remarkable one."

You gave him the benefit of the doubt. "What would this 'remarkable' goal be?"

He was the picture of youth as he smiled. "To fulfil a childhood dream."

The nuance was lost on you. You trusted him to not have done something so particularly stupid.

He tapped your chin. "Why the face? You're the one who drew them all over your notebook."

You reeled. "Me? When?"

He looked dumbfounded. "When we met. You threw the whole notebook at me, remember?"

It dawned on you slowly. The cogs finally clicked into place, and you shoved him, just for him to catch your hand and grin.

"You remember it now?" he mused.

He let your hands fall between you, refusing to let you go.

Your cheeks warmed. "That was six years ago. Rowena knows where that notebook is now! I haven't drawn a unicorn since third-year Care of Magical Creatures."

He reclaimed his spot by your side, throwing his arm around you once more. "It's a testament to my impeccable memory."

"Your memory won't help if we're torn apart by rogue beasts," you chastised.

You expected a response. A real, apologetic response. But you watched as his eyes fell over your shoulder and simply stared instead.

You scoffed at him. "You are terrible—"

He cupped a hand over your mouth. "Shh!"

"Woat aye you loofing at?" You shook your head, freeing your mouth. "What are you looking at?"

A smile teased at his lips as he pointed over your shoulder. The glow at the end of his wand died, making the presence of the very real, very majestic unicorn prominent. Its coat shined like it was made of moonlight. You almost forgot to breathe as you watched it with the intrigue of a tyke.

Lockwood was much closer than before. His whispers loud in your ears. "Breathe, sweetheart. Can't have you fainting on me now."

You breathed a laugh then snapped to cover your own mouth. The creature craned its head around, allowing you to glimpse midnight blue eyes before it galloped into the trees. A short but worthwhile encounter.

Lockwood tugged on your arm, bringing you back to the present and leading you out of the forest.

You're still at a loss of words when you glimpsed his triumphant smile. "Not impossible," he reiterated.

You're on the brink of a laugh as you agreed, "Not impossible."

As you broke into safer forest, you realised that night wasn't over. Not for Lockwood, at least. His hand slipped down your arm before he twined his fingers with yours.

His smile brightened when you adjusted your grip to hold him tighter.

"We have one more stop before we succumb to sleep," he told you, leading you through the clearing.

Your curiosity grew as you passed Hagrid's hut. "Somewhere within Hogwarts, I hope. At this point, I find it plausible that you're scheming to sneak out to Hogsmeade."

A metaphorical lightbulb blinked above him. "Not yet, but that is a brilliant idea."

"There isn't a moment of peace when you're involved."

His fingers ghosted over your knuckles. It affected you more than you cared to show.

"Sweetheart, we both know we're susceptible to boredom when it's too quiet."

"I suppose," you hummed.

You did enjoy the cracks in the silence being filled by intelligent squabble or nonsensical arguments. But only if they involved one audacious Slytherin.

Your thoughts turned to static as torchlight began to cast a golden glow in the grass. This clearing was the opposite of empty. Torches and cages inflated where the air should have been. What fit in the cages were what stole the air from your lungs.

Lockwood was absolutely joyed that your first reaction was the dropping of your jaw.

The cages were filled by dragons. Luckily, asleep. The same ones that were supposed to be there for educational purposes.

You heard that they were on the loom for being transported back to Romania, but you never thought that they were being kept this close to the castle.

Lockwood led you by the hand, further between the cages. They shrunk in size until you were at the end of the line, facing a chillingly familiar face.

You laid a hand against the grainy bars, close but not too close to admire the sleeping beast. "The juvenile Romanian..."

Lockwood stared down at the nameplate welded against the bars. "Her name's Gorgonzola."

"She's named after a cheese?"

Lockwood chuckled. You felt the shake of his shoulder through your linked hands. "We were almost wiped out by aged dairy."

"It's a good thing we quelled her then." You nudged his side, and he nudged you right back. "Now, we're able to admire her without the impending threat of death."

"If that incident hadn't occurred, you would still hate me," he chuckled. It came out soulless.

You were taken aback. You weren't his biggest fan, but it would be too dire to say you hated him.

"Lockwood, I wouldn't hate you."

"Well," he downplayed the frown in his tone. "we wouldn't be friends."

You turned to face him. The toes of your shoes bumping his. He looked up, surprise evident in his eyes. You were so close, he could see his own reflection in your eyes.

His eyes followed every movement of your mouth. "Sulking over a version of us that doesn't even exist, snake boy?"

The edges of his lips upturned. "Just considering the possibilities, sweetheart."

You recognised that spark of mischief anywhere. You only had yourself to blame when he'd closed the distance even more.

"Besides," He cupped your cheek, drawing you closer. His fingers tickled the underside of your ear while his thumb brushed your cheek. "I like this reality better."

I do, too, you intended to say, but the words died on your tongue. Your lips parted as he inched closer and closer. Honesty lulling you together.

You felt his lips land on the corner of yours, teasing. You hummed in dismay before he drew away, leaning in to finally—

"Hey! What are you two doing here?" The dragon's caretaker, most likely. By the sound of it, he wasn't happy to see two miscreant students skulking around.

Lockwood bit his tongue, holding back the urge to call out and tell them to shove off just so he had a moment to kiss you—but the look on your face sobered him quickly.

You didn't have the luxury of being involved in trouble as he did. Your family would know if you got into trouble. The dominos would fall, and a sad you was the kind of thing Lockwood casted spells to avoid.

He tightened his hold on your hand. "We'll get back to this," he promised.

You nodded firmly, holding onto him with the same intensity.

Though the moment was left behind, Lockwood clung to the vision of your eyes fluttering shut. Your lovelorn face seared into the back of his mind, keeping him up all night.

—

You didn't know where you and Lockwood stood at that moment in time. You were walking the line between more than friends, less than lovers. Wherever your feet were, you realised you had a lot to make up for.

If he caught you at the right time, you might just blurt out that you loved him, too. You'd been fortunate enough to have the restraint to keep your confession contained.

The thought of telling him felt like bearing your soul. You were unprepared for it. But there were new ambitions that stirred in your thawing heart. They all centred around one, Anthony Lockwood.

You tried to be subtle, but in Lockwood's eyes, you were as subtle as a gun.

You remained your verbally abrasive self (how he found it enamoring eluded you), but you picked up the habit of awarding him with a kiss on the cheek when he drapes an arm over your shoulders. He's yet to brace himself and melts every time.

In the same time frame, you magically found a way to duplicate your notes so he didn't have to hurt his hands to write them.

His hands were perfectly fine. Lockwood said you're insane for it, but you replied with, "have I ever been sane?"

To that he'd shake his head and smile a smile that encompasses a million confessions.

On another morning, a gaggle of first-years delivered a gift box of his favourite knacks from Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes and Honeydukes sweets. They told him it was from an anonymous benefactor but one look up and his eagle eyes spotted your poorly done disillusionment charm.

He thanked the kids with a smile and sent them off just so he could tap your disillusioned arse as he passed, then had the gall to chuckle at your yelp.

The rest of Hogwarts progressively became aware of the development. Professor McGonagall purposely seated you apart. Professor Flitwick did the opposite. Professor Longbottom occasionally tipped off ideas like hiding spots and locations with a view.

Even Peeves seemed to be aware that you were unofficially an item. To your utmost surprise, the poltergeist took it easy on you.

Your shenanigans began to pay back Lockwood's six years of unnoticed pining. The man of the hour appreciated them but his heart could not take that much affection. Realistically, it could, but he never passed up an opportunity to be dramatic about it. Especially when he caught sight of you in his colours.

It was the last Quidditch match of the year—his final match as a student of Hogwarts; Gryffindor versus Slytherin.

He wholly expected to see you among your housemates, sporting the deep blue you looked so good in or even in red, just to spite him, but his heart stalled when he spotted you in steal-his-heart green.

He knew it was you even from miles away because you were sporting his number and wearing his jersey. The very jersey you said you'd never wear, you wore with a smile so bright it makes the cloudy skies part just for you.

He was just about ready to abandon his broom when you blew a cheeky kiss his way.

"Lockwood!" his teammate called urgently.

Lockwood begrudgingly looked away. He leaned into his broom to chase the Snitch, but he couldn't pry his eyes away from you for too long.

At the tail end of the game, the Snitch hovered right in front of you. You stared at it while Lockwood lunged for it, catching it in his palm and (un)covertly planting a kiss on your cheek.

It sent the stands into uproar and secured another win for Slytherin. He pointed to you as his team threw him up on their shoulders.

—

"You–" He snatched you from your path, beguiling you behind a fluted column. "–are unbelievable."

You smirked when you whirled to face him, resting an arm over his shoulder. The other against his forearm—and you chuckled when you felt him flex his arm to impress you. He couldn't help but smile.

His nose bumped yours, taunting. Judging by the way you raised your head to follow, you wanted the same thing he did.

Unfortunately for you, he was still Lockwood. He pulled his head back to coax that scowl from you. It sent him back to the first time he'd seen that look on your face. The weight of the world lightened every time he saw it.

You're not one to sulk, or beg, or admit you want something. Of course, you changed the topic. "Congratulations on the win, Captain."

"Captain? I like the sound of that." He did his best to remain chivalrous, but the thought of slipping his hands under your—his—jersey to caress your bare waist was meddlesome. It was tempting, and he barely fought the urge by drawing circles over the shirt instead. "Call me captain again, sweetheart."

You must be getting back at him. He had no other explanation for the rapturous grin on your face. "You're being too kind . . . I'm never going to call you that again."

"You are cruel, have I told you that before?"

You laughed, and he felt your breath on his neck. He found it reasonable to assume you're experienced in torturing boys who are in love with you. He clamped his lips when you graced him with a kiss on his chin. So close yet so far. "You love that about me though."

His fingers dug into your sides, keeping you to him even when you tried to pull away. Your fox grin only grew, confirming that you were torturing him on purpose.

He was immediately pardoned from guilt. He slid his hands down, and then up; touching your skin with chilled fingers. His smile reached his eyes as your mouth parted for a gasp.

"I do," he said, playing along and kissing the corner of your lip. "I'm forever harrowed by the very thought of you."

His form of play is quickly dispatched once his eyes meet yours. The mischief died away, leaving something deeper. More amorous. Yearning.

"Anthony..." It's but a whisper, but his fingers grappled to feel more of your skin. You felt them at the curve of your ribs, holding you with the prudence reserved for a fragile thing.

He drew you closer, as if the proximity of your mouths weren't enough to sate his cravings. "Say my name like that again."

"Anthony," you mused.

You're flush to him. If you were any closer, you'd feel his smirk against you, on your lips or your skin. You weren't picky.

His voice dropped to a lower register. "Yes, sweetheart?"

You lifted yourself on your toes. You met his eyes, but they travelled to his lips with intent. His eyes fluttered shut, transfixed on your smell, your hand tangling into his hair, your breath fanning his lip—everything. You drew closer and closer. He almost tasted the satisfaction of finally kissing–

"You better not be snogging behind there!" Kat Godwin, the dementor in disguise. Now, the person you wished to throw into the Black Lake.

You groaned and rocked back. Lockwood held on to your waist, closing the distance and allowing himself the reprieve of pressing his forehead against yours.

"We'll come back to this."

"Third time's the charm," you hoped.

His pulse raced as you snaked your hands up his torso, bracing your hands on his chest. If he didn't love you so much, he would have felt betrayed for the way you shoved him into the open.

"Anthony Lockwood," Godwin tutted. "I should have known..."

He glanced back at you, glimpsed your smile, and decided that he liked you too much to be mad.

He turned back to Godwin with a smirk. "I'm positive I saw a roach run through here." His lip twitched when her eyes darted down the hall.

Lockwood watched you book it for the opposite hall, ducking out of sight and escaping trouble. You blew a kiss before you turned the corner and he found that he didn't mind being your scapegoat.

—

Lockwood was aware that your beauty and brains could charm even the deadest of hearts. Some days, he wished you didn't have the magnetism you did. He dreaded every second watching that Gryffindor boy scamper up to you, a rose in hand.

Lockwood wasn't one to be mean up close, but he found glaring from a distance to be fair game.

You looked up from your book, innocent and unknowing, with a smile made for a princess. You turned the lion boy away, of course. You didn't even glance at the Gryffindor boy's love offering. The sad chap went off to wallow on his own.

Your head turned at the sound of Lockwood's footsteps. A smile coming to you before he even reached you.

"Hello, snake boy."

Lockwood didn't dawdle. "He was chatting you up."

"You were watching?"

"It's hard to miss trollop."

Amusement danced in your eyes. He forgot how gracious you were when he was caught up in his own mind-matter.

You shifted to the side and patted the spot next to you. Like a puppet on a string, he sat. Leaving no space between you, his arm flushed against yours.

"You're jealous," you said, with a lot more merriment than he expected from you.

His brows furrowed. "He's a twat. I'm just glad you had the sense to turn him away."

You crossed your legs and set your hands on your lap, exuding confidence that made him forget his own name. "So, you are jealous."

"Indefinitely," he said mindlessly.

"My poor serpent boy," you cooed sympathetically.

Your hands found his cheeks, and he had no reason to complain. He even nuzzled into your hold.

"You're never this touchy in public," he muttered, appreciating the closeness. He dipped his head to plant a gracious kiss on your palm.

You spoke like the action didn't rile you up. "I know someone adores me enough to be jealous of a boy I don't even know."

You felt his smile against your hand. Yours grew.

He planted one more kiss on your other palm before he drew himself away. He fought the urge to lean down and steal your first kiss right then and there because he had something much more fitting planned for you.

"I know you hate breaking rules but this is the last time I'm coaxing you to, I promise."

"I don't believe that for a second, but if you're so convinced, I don't see why I shouldn't be involved."

He turned your hand, placing a kiss on your knuckle. "The Astronomy Tower, after hours."

"Are you mad? The Astronomy Tower has special protection charms on it's doors."

Lockwood was mischief personified with a grin like that. "Have you no faith in me? I swear by Merlin's name, by the time you sneak out, I'll have the door open for you. I am a gentleman, after all."

It was glaringly obvious that you lost your ability to say 'no' to him.

—

You'd become acquainted with the darkest halls in your recent trysts with Lockwood. You would be lying if you said you weren't sceptical this time around.

The Astronomy Tower, a heavily guarded place following the murder of the previous Headmaster, was Lockwood's idea of a good time.

It was no easy feat to get in, especially when it was dark out and the charms were upped for maximum protection.

You let the glow from your wand guide you through the halls. Once you made it to the base of the stairs, you're greeted by the sight of Lockwood. Suave and plucked from your dreams, he kicked off the wall and pushed the door open with ease. All while wearing your favourite smile. You could have kissed him senseless.

He bowed at the waist, flourishing a hand at the open walkway. "Ladies first."

"You are... unbelievable. You actually did it."

He held his palm out towards you, like an invitation to dance. "Did you ever have a doubt?"

"For a moment," you admitted, placing your hand in his.

"Anything is possible, if you have enough nerve." He punctuated his statement by kissing your knuckle, his eyes never leaving yours. He was luring you in, and it was working. "Shall we?"

You nodded, allowing him to guide you up the stairs, passed the landing before you set foot on the observation deck. The gold accents of the room shone, even in moonlight. The books that filled the shelves vibrated, like they were dying to open themselves and unleash the knowledge they held, and the skyline ceiling was so brilliant, you could reach up and feel it against your skin.

If you spoke the want to touch a star, you had no doubt Lockwood would take a shot in the dark just to make it happen.

"Don't look at the books, sweetheart. Look at me."

"But the books are so pretty."

He grinned, holding back the urge to say something cliché. You could guess what it was.

Instead, he said, "Plenty of time for them later. I have to show you something."

He guided you to the balcony, the night's chill amplifying the feel of his warm hands on yours. It was getting hard to act like your heart wasn't jumping for joy.

The wind tousled your hair, the stars dotted the sky, and Anthony Lockwood made everything look so much brighter.

He rounded until your back was against his chest, pulling you in until you felt the thrum of his heart against your shoulder. Arms wound around you to shield you from the bite of frost than rolled in now that winter was one step through the door.

You found that his pulse was just as eratic as yours. Fervent in every sense of the word.

You'd never been in this position with anyone. The proximity was jarring, but it was welcomed nonetheless. You laxed into him, and he eased into you.

You weren't paying attention to the view as you hummed. "This is nice."

"I know... I was waiting until you didn't want to decapitate me to bring you here."

You turned your body to rest your cheek on his shoulder. "It's not my fault you're insufferable."

"Is that truly your favourite word to describe me? I hear it plenty."

"You tell me, serpent boy. I don't remember every little thing about myself."

"Remembering the little things about you is my job, thank you very much."

You felt the rumble of his laugh through his chest, reminiscent of a cat's purr of contentment. It took everything in you not to bring it up.

All whilst Lockwood was trying to keep himself together. Anything that involved you took a lot of restraint on his part.

Unexpectedly, you broke the silence. Your voice, the song of a lark in the night. "Have I ever told you how much I appreciate you?"

"No, I don't think you have." He hated to put a distance between you but he wanted to see your lips make the words as you said it. "Go on and tell me."

He memorised the way your smile reached your eyes and the softness of your brightened cheeks as the stars reflected in your eyes. You'd always been beautiful, but you were vibrant now. He liked to think he had something to do with it.

"I don't hate the way you know me better than I know myself."

He cracked a smile, cupping your cheek with the tenderness one reserves for their most precious thing. "Come on, you're more eloquent than that, sweetheart."

Your smile widened, and you melted into his palm. "If the world allowed it, I'd like to go back and return every stolen glance, every missed confession, and every chance we lost to be friends sooner."

His cheeks hurt from withholding a smile. "We can move past our regrets. Besides, aspirations have changed. I don't just want to be friends anymore, sweetheart." His thumb swiped against your cheek, printing the image of you into his memory. "I want to be your life's confidant, your harbinger of hope, your worst nightmare, and the object of your dreams. I want to be everything to you, because you are already everything to me."

Of course, he had to outdo you in words.

“Cheesy...” you teased.

His thumb travelled down the curve of your cheek, flitting over the plush of your lips. It took everything not to steal you away as you pressed your delicate lips against the pad of his thumb, like his confession didn't have to be returned in words.

And you didn't seem to be looking for words at all. Your hands found his lapels. With a sharp tug, you finally connect your lips to his. Years fell away as he grasped your neck, holding you to him as your fingers slid into his hair.

You exchanged breaths. A mess of clashing teeth and rushing emotions. Judging by the fervency in his grappling for skin, you got an idea of how long he'd been waiting for this, for you.

Yet, he wasn't savage about it. His movements were eager but equally as careful, savouring every stolen second he had you all to himself.

Even as the air ran short, he couldn't fathom the idea of being too far from you. You broke the kiss, chasing oxygen. He rested his forehead against yours, heaving with a smile that could brave you through your worst times.

His thumb swiped over your lips once more, already missing you. "Would you find it pathetic if I said I've dreamt of doing that?"

"I'd be more flattered, really. What girl wouldn't want to be wanted like this?"

You disarmed him as you cupped his chin.

"Can't imagine," he replied. He bumped his nose to yours, and you leaned into him even more.

Should have known that the world wasn't kind enough to give you much time to yourselves. Both of you jumped into action the second you heard the clicking of shoes coming up the stairs.

Anthony refused to release your hand, even as you rushed for cover. Your whispered urgencies fell on deaf ears. You didn't get far enough to hide fully.

Your back was against the wall, hidden from sight. Anthony was not. You were whispering for him to just duck beside you when he clamped a hand over your mouth and posed for whoever appeared inside the Tower.

"Lockwood?" Lucy Carlyle.

You sighed in relief. You weren't in inescapable trouble after all.

"Hey, Luce! Fancy seeing you here."

"What are you doing?" A few more steps.

Anthony panicked. "No! Sorry–" He cleared his throat. "I... made a mess of a hex. It's a disaster."

You bit his palm, offended. The way he sputtered was victory enough.

"Really?" Lucy questioned, deep in disbelief. "You look completely fine... Except your hair."

"Terrible winds, really. The mess is off to the side." His smile was so unconvincing you could laugh.

Instead, you started a trail of pecks across his palm, travelling down to his wrist until he choked on air. Your heart swelled and mischief bubbled to the surface. You grew audacious enough to nip at his skin.

Lucy's voice rang out. "I can help—"

"Absolutely not!" Anthony winced at the crack in his voice. "I mean, I have it handled."

You heard a few more steps. Anthony laxed. You assumed Lucy was walking away. "If you say so..."

"Haha. I appreciate the concern, Luce. Let's keep this between us, hm?"

"Sure..." Her steps echoed as she toed down the steps. Before she shut the door, she added, "Say 'hi' to the Ravenclaw for me."

Anthony slumped himself against you, sulking as you laughed. "Not as sly as we thought, hm?"

"I've had better days..."

You ran your hands through his hair, attempting to right the mess you made of it earlier. "Then you're blaming the night?"

He raised his head from your shoulder. "Don't tell me you're about to side with the moon again. I'll start to think I'm competing with it."

"Well, the moon is beautiful."

"Oh, come off it. I'm so much better."

He took it upon himself to prove it, pressing your hips into the wall as he stole another ground-shattering kiss from. You surrendered, musing his hair to your heart's content.

—

Anthony thought that the perfect way to start off a relationship was to demonstrate how you two truly clicked in terms of cruelty. Not that you'd call it that outright. You'd crossed out Lockwood's 'revenge' and wrote 'comeuppance' in its place.

He eyed the plans from over your shoulder. "Does it make a difference?"

"Comeuppance is just karmic debt being repaid. Revenge sounds like it could be a crime."

"It's only a crime if we get caught."

That could very well be Anthony's life motto.

You rolled the scroll up and casted a hasty concealment charm on it, packing it away in the bag of supplies before you looked down the hallway.

"You go cause a distraction."

He guffawed, clutching his cloak like he'd been stabbed. "I came up with the plan. Why do I get distraction duty?"

"Because," you drawled, fixing his tie. "You're a sweet boyfriend who does anything to pacify his vengeful girlfriend."

"Defence is a pivotal subject in the field I'm aiming for. I could lose my career if this goes wrong."

"I can cover all our future living expenses, and we won't get caught. Swish away the pessimism, captain."

"I'm not being pessimistic. I just want to be the one flinging oobleck balloons."

You smiled faultlessly. "We'll miss our chance if we don't time this correctly."

His shoulders sunk, a grumble shaking his chest before he righted himself. "Do what you please. Just... don't turn me into a ferret. I heard a terrible rumour about some other Slytherin being turned into one."

"You have my word."

An enchantment here and a flick of a wand there, and a baby eagle stood in the place of your lover. You cupped him in your hands, cooing cordially as he nipped at your fingers.

If a bird could blush, you assumed he would have. You set him on the window sill.

A ways down, Professor Loathes-Your-Guts strolled by. Unassuming and grumpy as ever.

"As good as I am, it won't last forever. Off you go, Cinderbird."

Anthony squawked indignantly before you shoved him off the sill. He stretched his wings, working out the complexities of flight right before he hit the pavement.

His odd way of flying seized the Professor's attention right away. She caught him in her hands, stopping right where you wanted her.

Anthony freed himself as the first balloon careened down and splat against her head, drenching her in watered starch. You muffled a laugh as she screamed bloody murder. She had yet to get the sludge out of her hair before you dropped three more.

Blood pumping, Anthony flew right up, turning human right as he shot through the window.

"Save some for me!"

You kicked the box of balloons toward him, absolutely riveted by the scene you'd caused below. You looked far too good doing evil, and he was the Slytherin.

He dropped five balloons before Peeves uncovered the plot and took matters into his hands.

The poltergeist bombarded the Professor with the remaining ammunition and left the basket over her head as a consolation prize. While she shrieked at him, you and Anthony booked it—hands connected, boasting matching smiles.

Operation: DADA Comeuppance — Success!

And thanks to the spirit of mischief, you were never caught.

—

Anthony found it ironic that your favourite views were of crepuscular rays; those beams of light that slice through dense foliage or part the clouds to shine on dreary ground, because it's how he often described you—rarely letting the light in but always magnificent when you do.

You were standing under one of those rays as you bowed to a Hippogriff, once again setting an example for the class. It's to nobody's surprise, he's the first to burst into applause.

You glared at him. He mimicked your deep bow in response. The twitch of your lip was reward enough for him.

It wasn't long until the party was assigned to pairs. It was an easy guess as to who leeched to your side the second people broke off into their groups.

You waved your finger at him, as if that would keep him from you. "If you keep tailing me, we'll end up on the Bulletin'."

"I love a good word in. About us, specifically," he replied.

You shook your head, more endeared than disappointed. "Of course, you would."

"If I were you, I'd be showing off my new boyfriend."

"You say 'boyfriend' with so much conviction, you would think we've been going out for years."

"My apologies, m'lady. Would 'husband' suit your tastes more?"

"Lockwood!"

He withheld a smile. "You can call me Anthony, sweetheart. In fact, you can keep my last name for yourself."

Your mouth dropped into an 'o'. "I cannot believe what I'm hearing."

He took a more tentative step towards you, closing distance. "What are you hearing?"

"Nonsense. I hear nonsense," you replied. You were doomed the second your back hit a tree. Anthony wasted no time to trap you against it. "You are..."

He leaned down, bumping your nose with his. It was inertia that drew him close enough to touch lips. "I'm what– Oof!"

He clutched his chest after you pushed him away, smiling like you were faultless. "I'd like a ring if you are seriously talking about stealing surnames. A nice, awe-inspiring ring. Not a common one. Something privy to us."

He rubbed his shirt as he spoke, a smile teasing his lips. "How's about a house to start?"

Your visage changed. Genuine surprise marred your features. "You're serious?"

"It's a big house, and it could use a magical touch."

The way your lips quirked into a smile made him forget himself. A mistake he'll try not to make in the future.

Under the spell of your gaze, he hadn't seen your Hippogriff friend rush for him. He received a headbutt to the side and crashed into a tree. If that weren't bad enough, a fat fruit thumped him right on the head.

For a fleeting moment, everything went blurry. He saw you as a smudge in his vision. When he tried to talk, all that came out was gibberish.

"He's a friend," you explained to the Hippogriff. It gave a ninny and nudged its snout against Lockwood's side as a form of apology.

When he came to, he got a faceful of Hippogriff cheek. You waved the gentle beast out of the way before cradling Anthony's head.

His foul sentiments dissipated. Perhaps he should get bodied by a Hippogriff more often if that meant he got to see you this doting again.

"Merlin, Lockwood... I forgot she was protective."

"That's 'Anthony' to you, sweetheart, and 's alright," he slurred, blinking his vision back to clarity. He smacked his lips, luckily not tasting blood. "I get protective of you, too."

"Not the time to flirt, serpent boy."

"You're holding me. There is no better time to flirt."

"Alright, Casanova."

Your hands travelled to his wrist, assessing his pulse, then pressing into his side to check the extent of the damage. If this was a glimpse of how you'd be as a healer, he was already jealous of the patients you'd be caring for.

The second his brain fog cleared, he patted his pockets in search of his gifts.

You sat back on your calves, staring him down like the wind could blow him over. "Looks like minor damage."

"Excellent news," he rasped. He took your hand and placed a solid metal something in your palm. "This is for, if you choose to accept my invitation." He fished in his pocket for a second object. He placed that into your closed palm as well. "And this is for you in general."

The first object was a heavy silver key. The ornamental kind of key you loved to hold as a child. You stared at it with so much intensity, he was convinced you were trying to set it on fire with your eyes.

"You're just... giving this to me?"

Worry crossed his face. "Yes. If you'd like it, of course."

"I like it," you said urgently. "How could I not? I just... Don't I have to do something to earn this? Like, giving up a handful of galleons or marrying–"

He let go of the breath he was holding.

"Hold it there, sweetheart," he grasped your hands the second he saw your mind going in all different directions. "I want us to live together, no conditions. I want to be close to you." Of course, he had to add, “I know, I couldn't believe it myself.”

Your hands tightened around his. He'd let you squeeze his fingers bloodless if it quelled your worries.

He cracked a smile, relieved to see you giving the effort to return it. He carefully unravelled your hands to show you the second object.

You gasped. As would any girl when they're presented with a ring. It was the metal that complimented your skin best. A solid band detailed in engravings and decadent carvings. Your worry morphed into panic. With tense shoulders, your eyes flit to Anthony's.

"Relax," he mused, turning the ring in his hands and sliding it on your third finger. "It's not an engagement ring. It's a passion project of mine..."

Your shoulders laxed. "Thank Merlin... Hogwarts is not a place to propose."

"Agreed, and I'd never disrespect you by proposing so drably." He chuckled, examining the ring on your finger before brandishing his matching one. "They're a pair, loaded with protective charms and a trace. It functions as a handy portkey, too."

You raised your hand to the light, examining the engravings in full. "Why turn it into a portkey?"

"The trace tells me if you're in trouble. The portkey will take me to you the second you are."

Only a witch like you would fall in love with intricate spell work. It made you susceptible to melting for gestures as thoughtful as Anthony's.

He admired you as you admired the ring. His heart jumped as you quickly turned your head to kiss his cheek.

"Thank you," you whispered. The raw, unfiltered gratitude in your voice made him fall for you all over again.

His smile reached his eyes. "Anytime, sweetheart."

—

Waiting on the last train out of Hogwarts felt like some kind of catharsis. A journey that spanned seven years felt like a short car ride home. There was happiness doled by sadness, and sadness doled by happiness.

It was in Anthony's nature to look on the bright side, but it was difficult when he hadn't seen you since the awarding ceremony. You outdid him, of course. Bringing home one medal more than him.

His initial plan was to sulk, maybe play kicked puppy and finesse himself a kiss, but his anticipation blurred into worry as the train entered view, but you didn't.

He broke from the crowd, leaving his things with Lucy and George before going off to find you.

He didn't peg you as the type to take a last walk to your favourite spots, but he found you in the dingy Defence classroom. As much as you loathed the lingering stench, you exalted the memories in that very room. The only subject of concern was a boy toying with an empty cage on the far side of the room. Anthony turned a blind eye to the stranger, for how could he look away from you?

Your eyes, that were peering ruefully out the window, snapped to Anthony's. He felt the beginnings of a smile creep up.

Without warning, a wardrobe wove open, the hinges holding it together rasped as a black form ballooned out of it. Your gaze fell on it, and horror replaced the nostalgia instantaneously.

He'd never heard you scream so loud.

Blood rushed to his head. He found his wand.

You fell to the floor, clamping your hands over your ears with your eyes shut tight.

Vision in red, he turned his attention to the boggart that crushed the air in the room. It took the form of four figures; A horrific scene sampled from the many tormented stories plucked from the war...

He paused, finding his own tortured face staring back at him and your anguished one shackled, unable to help. The two remaining figures must have been members of your family, looming over you and watching you without compassion. They were your boggart.

He didn't hesitate to mutter the counter-charm.

The illusion burst. The boggart whirled back into the closet with the wardrobe doors crashing shut.

The boy Anthony hadn't paid attention to stood to reopen it but Anthony threw a stupefy right at him. The boy nearly dented the wall with how hard he rammed into it.

Anthony advanced, fury heavy in his steps. It only heightened as he realised who the boy was. It was the Gryffindor boy you'd rejected all those weeks ago.

"You have got to be kidding me." Anthony scoffed.

The lion boy's nose flared, turning him twice as ugly. Anthony might have felt bad if he wasn't furious.

He didn't give the Gryffindor time to recuperate before he drew him up by the collar and cracked his back against the wall. "You bastard. You couldn't take the 'L', could you?"

The boy's head lulled. Anthony had to give it to him, he thought he'd be out cold with how solid the spell hit him, but the tosser had the resolve to spit at him.

There was no guilt in the way Anthony threw him to the floor. He could have done worse if you hadn't called for him.

"Anthony."

He turned his head, relieved to find that you'd returned to normal. Save the red that rimmed your eyes, you were fine. You were the one thing that kept him from bludgeoning the roach on the floor.

No words were needed.

The Gryffindor laughed, repulsed. "So, you were with him this whole time? Godric... you're a bitch—"

"Quite the mouth for someone who'd stoop low enough to unleash a boggart on a lady," Lockwood said dismally. "I suggest you scat. Before I show you what each of my accolades mean."

Courageous as the Gryffindor was, he was brainless. "Did you hand a few to her for 'favours'? Hm?"

Oh, the number of jinxes the human body could handle before breaking. The boy was lucky you were there. Anthony was gentleman enough not to hex in front of a lady.

He sufficed with carving crescents into his own palms to restrain himself. "Serpents don't concern themselves with the opinions of sheep. I suggest you stitch your mouth. There is a lady present, if you aren't too blind to see her."

"Kiss up," the Gryffindor simpered.

Patient as Anthony was, you weren't. You hurled a spell at the Gryffindor. After a twitch, his head hit the ground.

You showed Anthony your palms when you were met with inquisition.

"What? Was I supposed to let him speak to you like that?"

Holding back a smile was futile. He was proud. "You're cute."

You stepped over the Gryffindor and returned his smile. "I know." You brushed the imaginary dust off Anthony's shoulders and righted the orientation of his medals before you took his hand. "As I remember, we have a train to catch."

He twined your fingers, bringing your hand to his lips to worship your knuckles. "Shall we, m'lady?"

"We shall."

You exited the classroom, hands intertwined, leaving behind an incapacitated moron. If the rest of your lives were going to be spent like that, you had no qualms with it.

"Have I told you how gorgeous you look today?"

"No." You looked at him expectantly. "Tell me."

He pressed a kiss to your temple and gave your hand a squeeze as he said, "My dearest vexation, you are a vision. Aphrodite herself would be green with envy."

Definitely no qualms there.

—

"Why is it that you travel by this rather than apparating?"

You were always a sponge for knowledge, but your eyes were particularly bright once the train had delivered you to Platform 9¾. It spat you right out into the muggle world.

Anthony realised that he had never seen you in all-muggle clothes, and he wasn't shy of staring. He was rightfully in a daze until you'd asked the question.

"Cabs take us directly to where we want without raising suspicion from muggles."

"So, they willingly spend their sickles on simply getting home? How impractical, and expensive."

He hid a laugh. "It is the way it is, sweetheart. Nothing we can do to change that. It's best you avoid saying 'sickles' though. It'll confuse them."

"Noted."

Anthony loathed the silence, but he made due with it. He had you for a view, after all. He recounted all of your details, down to the flutter of your lashes as the breeze caressed your face.

Weirdly enough, the ride to Portland Row was much shorter than he remembered.

He slipped out first, flattening a hand at the top of the cab's door and taking the brunt of the impact when you expectedly bumped your head on the way out.

"Sorry."

"Don't mention it. I did the same as a kid."

You kissed his cheek anyway, and he turned his head to the side to make the warmth of his cheeks discreet.

As he unloaded the trunks, you absorbed the Lockwood family estate as it stood: A tall, classical home with wrought-iron fencing leading to the bricked door arch and its charming knocker... the picture of a fine London home.

The only thing out of place was the irritating, freckled face of a neighbour Anthony hoped disappeared.

"Tony! Done with community service?"

You turned to Quill Kipps with a frown. Anthony withheld a laugh. You had never met the man but you obviously disliked him already.

Kipps straightened, realising that you were present. "You have a dame with you... Quite the looker, too."

"I have a name, if you had the mind to ask." You crossed your arms. Anthony found that to be a sign to look away. You had yourself handled. "I suppose the oaf with room temperature IQ has a name, too?"

Quill Kipps's smirk faltered. "He does." His eyes shifted to Anthony before he clicked his tongue. "Just trying to rile up Tony. Hope you stick around though, sweetheart. He could use a backbone."

Anthony soured at the nickname.

You didn't let up your glare until Kipps vanished from sight.

You shifted your heated gaze to Anthony. "Did you hear what he called me? How have you not jinxed him?"

"Trust me, I'm not a fan of him either, but he's a muggle. Trying to fight him would be bullying."

"The lack of justice!"

He snorted. "It's bearable. Now, come on. There's someone who's been dying to meet you."

"I can stupefy the freckled redhead double quick."

"Sweetheart, no."

He seized your hand to make sure you didn't run off and break a law, no matter how entertaining that would be for the both of you.

—

"I'm Jessica Lockwood! Jess is preferable. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Your arm almost fell off from the intensity of her handshake. The older girl was twice as energetic as Anthony and triple times as smiley.

Your boyfriend was the one who saved your hand by taking it into his. "Jess, I like my girl with both her hands intact, please."

"Don't kid. You'd still be smitten if she was cursed into a worm." She slapped her brother's shoulder. You kept in a laugh as he struggled to remain upright. She didn't forget you for a second. "Once Anthony starts talking about you, it never truly ends. I didn't believe he hated you for a second. When he 'complained' about you, he'd use phrases like *'annoyingly distracting'* and *'unfairly attractive'*."

"Jess..."

"The truth was bound to come out." She shot you a knowing look. "You can tell in the smile. He does it without knowing"

"He is terribly obvious," you doubled, holding his hand in both of yours in a pacifying manner.

His mouth fell open. "My word . . . It's been five minutes and the pair of you are already cornering me."

"This is the beginning of something beautiful," Jessica sang. She winked at you before meandering to the door next to the steps. "Now show her your room and unpack before dinner. We're having potato soup. Are you allergic, sweets?"

You smiled until both of your cheeks hurt. "Not at all. I like the sound of potato soup. Before that, I'd like to formally introduce myself–"

"There's no need for it, really. Anthony blabbed about you enough. I'll call you two down when it's ready."

Anthony lead you to the stairs by the shoulders. "Up we go, sweetheart. Before Jess says more than she should."

"I think she's a treat, Anthony. I wish I had a sister like her."

"She kicked me into a lake once. You wouldn't find her very nice if she did that to you, would you?"

"I would kick you into a lake, too, if you were my brother."

"Let's not open that can of worms, sweetheart. I want to be your husband. Obliviate this conversation from my memory."

You laughed, patting his knuckles sympathetically. "Torturing you is just as fun as laughing about it."

"You and Jess get along like a house on fire. That said, I'm not sure how long I'll stay sane."

"I'll save you a room at St. Mungo's." He fought a smile as you stalled on the taller steps. He was a goner the second you turned to wrap your arms around him. "You love it though. And you love me."

He sighed into your hair. "Unfortunately."

His arms wound around you, pulling you close enough for your heartbeats to sync. He nuzzled into your shoulder, and you did the worst thing you could possibly do: you played with his hair. He melted.

The prospect of you being in his forever home made a strange feeling bubble in his stomach. He figured it was what he had been looking for—a sense of fulfilment, or maybe he just needed someone to play with his hair the way you did.

Jessica's voice speared through the tranquillity. "No funny business, both of you!"

"Yes, ma'am," Anthony responded. He stole a chaste kiss from you before leading you to the first door on the second floor.

—

He should have known you'd go straight for the bed. You were always lounging or reclining if you weren't working. Anthony developed a disease that entailed observing you every time you did. He could probably paint a portrait of you, if he only had the artistic talent.

You stretched like a starfish, relishing the softness of the sheets that still smelt of him.

"I could die here, happily."

Anthony kneeled in the space next you to fix the blanket over you. "Sweet as that is, I like you better alive."

"I'll live and die here," you cooed, pulling him down beside you. "So much better than my room... well, my old room. My parents decorated the house like it was a prison. Seeing your mess can make any place feel like home."

"Should I be offended? You just called my interior decorating skills a mess."

"You're ugly enough to distract them from the mess."

"Thank you, sweetheart. Much appreciated."

"You're welcome."

He lowered his body next to yours, throwing an arm over your waist. The brush of his fingers on your stomach did not go unnoticed.

You took the liberty to rest your head on his shoulder, snuggling deeper into the blanket as you did. The perfect plot to hide your warming cheeks.

"Getting cosy, already? In my room?"

"We can share, can't we?" The way you looked at him made the temptation of a cosy cuddle difficult to resist.

"Jess would behead me, and I don't mean metaphorically. We have a collection of axes from pivotal historic events downstairs."

"Just a nap then. We have some time before dinner."

You made a good bargain. There was only so much saying 'no' Anthony could do to you before he bent.

"Just this once."

"Just this once," you confirm with an unconvincing smile.

"I am a gentleman, you understand that? We can't stay here for too long."

"I know."

"Then why are you smiling like that?"

Your smile only grew. "Cause I'll be the barbarian this time. I demand to stay here."

"Sweetheart—"

"My mind's already made up. Sleep, Anthony."

“My sister—"

"Sleep."

He tapped your side in surrender. He dragged the blanket higher to cover your shoulders. "If I am putting my neck out for a cuddle, might as well ask for your input. Though, the idea itself might be absurd."

"Anthony, 'absurd' means 'innovative' in your language. Spill."

"Is it possible to shrink a patronus? I was thinking about the practicality of a smaller patronus after I signed up for the auror training programme."

"It'd be more covert."

"My thought exactly." His expression turned pensive. "I might use it to get into the specialised auror squadron."

"Well," You sat up and wiggled your wand out of your pocket. "Only one way to find out."

He couldn't leave it alone. "First person to do it gets a tick on the Tally."

"You're just bitter I got one more medallion than you."

"What can I say?" He tapped your nose, bringing the smile back to your face. "I love the competition."

—

The spellcasting didn't cease, even after dinner had passed.

You found yourselves under the covers, using the space between you as an arena for your patronuses. So far, every cast came out a regular-sized patronus.

Anthony's eyes drifted to the glint of your ring every time it was your turn. The engravings came to life every time it came into contact with magic. He felt the pulse of it through his own ring. He shouldn't have felt as thrilled as he did, but he couldn't help it.

"Anthony. Are you sleeping with your eyes open?"

"No. Just looking at you."

Your lip curled. "Cheesy."

"You love it."

"No comment."

He laughed before picking up his wand. He concentrated as best as he could, but one glimpse at your face, and it slipped. His patronus emerged as it usually did.

Magnificent, iridescent, and face-slapping. Its silvery sands dissipated as Anthony received a well-placed smack to the cheek.

"That was worse than the last one," you snorted.

Anthony nudged your knee. "I'd like to see you do better."

Even if a million failed attempts already plagued you, you went through the motions. This time, the swishes of your wand were smaller and more slurred—like your wrist was limp as you cast.

Your patronus burst forth. Beautiful and respectable, and the size of a mouse.

"Aha!" You threw your hands up, sending the blanket flying and letting the cold air rush in. "I win! Get the Tally, give me my point."

"Merlin, sweetheart. Careful." Anthony chuckled, gathering the blanket and quickly chucking it over your head before getting up from the bed to fetch the notebook.

Your head poked out of the swaths of fabric, just to prop your chin on his shoulder and watch as he drew another line under your column. Two points more than his.

He leaned his head on yours. "Happy?"

"Very," you quipped.

The patronus trounced over his hand, soaring over your head like a halo before perching on his nose.

"Try it." You coaxed. "Smaller shapes, dramatic flicks."

"You're going to laugh if it fails, aren't you?"

"When do I not?"

The crane flew over to the nightstand, preening it's feathers before cocking its head at Anthony. Urging him to go on.

With a sigh, he gave in and gave it another go. The first attempt was as bad as the last. The second one worked like a charm.

His patronus skipped the usual fly around the room, preferring to head straight for yours, landing next to it and dancing around it before they took off like butterflies in the wind.

Your lips parted for a yawn. Anthony felt your weight press against his side, his arm instinctively finding home around your waist.

"How late is it?" Your eyes were too bleary to read the time.

Anthony found the clock. "A quarter to midnight." He hauled you closer, settling you against the pillows before dimming the lights. "I think we're due for some shut-eye."

"A Slytherin who values a proper sleep schedule . . . Boo!"

He didn't even try to fight you. You were already swaying.

You felt his chest rumble as he spoke. "We can stay up then."

"Your idea, not mine."

Your head rested against him, the steady lub-dub of his heart pounding against your cheek. He felt yours against your ribs as he rubbed circles under your shirt. Even then, he couldn't tear his eyes away from your miniature patronuses.

They lit up the room like restless twin flames. Your eyes followed them, too, but not for long.

The combination of the patronuses' light and Lockwood's gentle massaging proved to be an effective sleeping pill. It wasn't long 'till your earlier words were void and your breath evened out.

"Thought we were staying up," Anthony whispered, more endeared than anything. He couldn't help but place a kiss on your forehead.

The curious thing was... your patronus hadn't disappeared, even as you slept.

The pair of tiny cranes danced in flight. Nipping playfully before beautifully looping around one another.

He observed them for a while more before the drowse began to creep in. He dispelled his patronus, and only then did both of them disappear. Never leaving one without the other.

He cracked a smile as he slipped the blanket tighter around you, blessing your head with another kiss before he, himself, succumbed to the symphonies of sleep.

—

When life spun from essays and practicals to work and elbow grease, Anthony often found himself thinking of the future, of the past and where the two met in the middle.

He wondered if you ever missed the opulence of living in a pureblood home: The fluted columns, the glistening chandeliers, and the sunlight that streamed through ceiling-length windows.

He'd stare at the back of your head, feeling the doubt creep in. Then, you'd turn and chide him about some miscellaneous argument you refused to let rest, then all would be right in the world.

On a particularly gruelling day, he traipsed straight to bed without breakfast, too tuckered out to even lift a finger.

He heard you and Jessica chattering while you cleaned downstairs—moving furniture and kicking the ol' vacuum back to life. Sometime after dusting the bookshelves, you carefully opened the door to your (Lockwood's) room—mindful not to wake him with its creaking. He watched you through lidded eyes. You didn't notice his blinking.

Your hands glided a cloth over the nightstand pictures. When you'd reached the family portrait, you smiled. He found himself holding his breath.

"Your son is a dolt, you know," you snitched as if they'd be ready to gossip with you. You brought the picture to the light and rubbed away a stain on the glass. "Can't even take care of himself these days. He's lucky Jess and I are here to scold him . . . But he is a good man. A polite, romantic, and utterly chaotic one," You took a breath to calm yourself. "but I can't bring myself to hate him more than I... Well, I can't get the word out, but I will eventually. I've only been here for a while but living seems so much easier now. Not to alarm you, but it may have something to do with your son."

It was complete agony to continue feigning sleep after that. You cleaned the other night table, then adjusted the blanket so he was fully covered.

You left the room like you hadn't taken his heart with you.

—

On the dreaded eve of his parents' death, you approached him as he scrutinised the chipping paint and the stick-on stars on the ceiling.

Detached wasn't an apt word to describe how he had been acting all day. He was somewhere else mentally. Not even Jessica could break through to him.

"Jess told me to check on you," you said quietly, trying not to startle him.

All he did was hum in return.

You filled the empty space on the bed. "Anthony . . . Grief is just love with nowhere to go." You set your hand on his cheek, carefully swiping over his cheek, catching tears that have yet to fall. "No need to repress anything in front of me, serpent boy."

He took a shuddering breath. The first time he truly took a breath all day. It shattered you as his eyes glazed over. Even then, he refused to look at you. Refused to show you how torn up he was.

"I just... I miss them, but it's been so many years since they left. I thought–" He sucked in a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose just to cover his eyes. "I thought it would be easier. It's supposed to be easier."

You shifted closer, the bed dipping at your weight and bringing him closer to you. He thought he'd seen it all, but he'd never seen that kind of softness on your face. You pried his fingers away and wiped his tears yourself.

He was reduced to a little boy, and you were still sticking around. No barbs, no sharp sarcasm. Just your caring eyes and even more careful hands grasping his cheeks.

"Grief never really leaves, Anthony. They're your parents, of course you'd miss them." You mustered a smile, but it only revealed the tears gathering at your eyeline. "But you don't have to feel it alone. Jessica is here, and she loves you more than anything. It hurts her to see you so distant." He reached up to hold your hand in his. Your melancholic smile stretched. "And I'm here, too. You'd have to be pretty daft to forget your roommate."

He managed a smile, squeezing your hand in silent thanks — just before he had felt his façade fracture.

Anthony sat up, pulling you onto his thighs and wrapping you in a hug that was all-encompassing. He hid his face in your shoulder, and you rubbed his back as he finally let the tears free.

Sobs racked his body, his heart picked itself apart once more, but at least he could breath. Keeping all of the heartache to himself was like holding his breath. There was only so much he could hold before he needed air.

He didn't know how long Jessica had stood at the door before you beckoned her closer. Another pair of arms came around you two, washing away all the misplaced guilt he'd been stewing in since morning.

It didn't make him miss his parents less, but it reminded him that there were still people he got to hold hands with. And you were right, it was easier than doing it alone.

—

The conversation at dinner was a calm one. Less on banter and more on planning what to do in the morning.

The general consensus was to pick up flowers and bring some things to picnic with before visiting the Lockwoods' graves.

Jessica hugged Lockwood extra tight before letting him turn in for the night.

You glued yourself to his side the second he slid into bed. The responsibility of initiating skinship usually was on him, so, the change of pace was heavily appreciated.

He wrapped an arm around you and pressed a kiss to your head in unspoken gratitude.

You fought your nature to fall asleep first, just to stay up with him, but your resolve crumbled after your third yawn. You drifted off. Your arms didn't budge, and he was relishing the closeness for what it was.

Though, his mind wouldn't stop turning.

He never heard his parents' story, but he knew his mother had been a half-blood. He wanted to know how they met, if his mother's patronus ever changed, if his father had fashioned something from muggle magic to impress her.

So many questions that would remain unanswered forever.

He reached for his wand when insomnia had stolen enough hours of sleep from him. In the darkness, he whispered the enchantment.

His patronus burst forth, silvery and glorious... and not alone. Contrary to his previous casts, he summoned not just one crane, but two.

The pair of them remained quiet, for your sake. They perched on the armoire opposite of the bed and preened one another. He was entranced by their obvious affections, only breaking from focus when you shuffled in his arms.

The patronuses faded away, and you blinked into the darkness.

"What are you up to?" Your voice was heavy with drowse. Anthony fought the urge to pinch your cheek.

"Nothing, sweetheart." He glided a hand over your eyes, coaxing, "Go back to sleep."

You grumbled. "I saw something, you liar."

"Just a trick of the light."

You eyed him with sleepy uncertainty before your head went limp against his shoulder once more. "We'll come back to this," you swore.

Anthony pacified you by rubbing your back. "You bet, sweetheart. Now get your beauty sleep. I can't always be the prettier one."

He didn't have to tell you twice.

Not long after, his own eyes began to droop with the twin cranes still swimming in his mind.

—

The last time the sky had been this alive was the night Anthony had stolen you away to the Astronomy Tower. It felt like a lifetime ago.

You barely even noticed the extra luminescence of the moon or Anthony, who had been waiting for some form of acknowledgement all day.

Grunts were your definition of olive branches, and he wasn't having it. He stole the page from your hands and raised it above his head.

Your response was snap. "Anthony... I don't have time to dawdle."

"Why are you so worked up?"

You flailed your arms, gesturing wildly to the hulking stack of papers on your desk. "The warden at St. Mungo's wants to speak to me, personally. I need to be ready."

He read your scrawl on the paper, quickly giving up on trying to understand what it all meant.

What you dove into was far beyond the field of study in Hogwarts. Madame Pomfrey clearly took her role as your mentor seriously. You were advancing quickly.

"My girl," he said with a laugh. "You're the only witch who can commit a twelve-foot scroll to heart in the span of two hours. You'll be fine."

He loosened his grip on the paper as you leapt up to snatch it back from him, sitting back down on your chair with your lips pursed. Stress lines forming where your smile lines were supposed to. He hated seeing you so... consumed.

He wondered if you'd been hiding that face behind the four walls of your bedroom before things had changed between you, back when medals were currency in your home rather than achievements.

"This is a once in a lifetime opportunity... and it's being handed to me. I have to put my best foot forward." Your hold on the page turned sentimental. "I can't mess it up, Anthony."

He set his hands on your shoulders, and you surrendered to his touch. He took it as a good sign and cleared himself to kiss the top of your head.

"You are the best at what you do," he assured. "No one can compare. I'm not just saying that. You genuinely scare people with how much you know." He spun your chair to face him, tilting your chin to see you. "My dearest vexation... You've got this, and I've got you."

Your shoulders dropped with the intensity of your sigh. "I don't know what to do... I might forget something I'm supposed to know."

"You could never." He scrutinised your work desk before he made the decision. "What you need is a break. Dance with me?"

He drew you up by both hands, guiding one of your hands to rest on his shoulder. When your eyes drifted back to your stack of papers, he killed the lights so you wouldn't be able to see them.

You laxed as soon as the room plunged into the dark. That left you, Anthony, and the glow of the moon and streetlights.

Anthony returned his hand to yours and hummed a sentimental tune to lead the dance.

You leaned into the music, resting your head against his shoulder. He, in turn, rested his cheek against your head.

"This reminds me of our first dance," you mumbled.

"How could I forget?"

You concealed a smile in his shirt. "A lovely dance on the balcony after you kissed me senseless."

"It takes two to tango, sweetheart." He pulled closer, basking in the yelp you let out. "And my hair didn't stand a chance in your hands."

"In my defence, the tousled look suits you." You had the cheek to peck the juncture between his shoulder and neck. "Like the princes I used to read about."

"Charming."

"Don't be salty, captain. You'll always be my favourite." You rubbed his shoulder as a gesture of peace.

"As I should be."

You chuckled. "You're smirking. I feel it."

"You can't even see me."

"Don't have to," you chirped. "I know you."

"I've never met a woman so cumbersome."

Your head jerked back. Even in the limited lighting, he could see the scowl on your face. "You know other women?"

He couldn't hold back a grin. "Merlin, you are so jealous." He pressed a kiss to your temple, a gesture of truce. "You're my only and only vexation, spitfire. Everyone and everything pales in comparison."

You opened your mouth with the intent of giving a smart answer, but he shot you down before you even said it.

"Don't bring the moon into this."

You sealed your lips into a smile. Your worries slipped away, and you relished the few minutes you stole for a moonlight waltz with your lover.

—

In the two years you'd lived together, he'd picked up on your ticks. And you, his.

When you lightly bump your forehead against his cheek, Anthony knew it was your way of demanding a kiss. He never denied you one.

You learned to wear loose shirts to sleep because Anthony liked to slip his hand up your bare back and feel the up-and-down motions of your breathing as you slept.

He never forgot to bring home a little keepsake from work for you, accompanied by a single flower you got to add to a growing bouquet in the living room.

Anthony often got colds in the winter seasons, but he retains his reverent hate for the smell of Vix. So, you made your own impromptu mint remedy with lemongrass and ginger. To him, it was so much better.

Last but not least, a new chess board found home in the receiving room. The pieces only move when you and Anthony arrive home from your respective statutes of work.

Gist is, you had a routine, and you knew what to do for every boyfriend-shaped hurdle life had in store for you.

Imagine the panic that hit you the second your enchanted ring started to warm and shake.

The day was dark and ruthless. Rain pelting down like cats and dogs. Electricity had gone out as well.

You were wary to answer the door, since you were home alone, but you did so anyway because your ring had only grown more restless.

Your heart ceased in your chest as you took in the sight of Anthony. He couldn't even hold himself up. Lucy and James were doing that for him.

You choked on nothing. "Merlin..."

You reached out. Like a moth to a flame, Anthony gravitated to you. Falling into your arms and sighing into your shoulder like your presence alone could suture the injuries that marred his figure from head to toe.

"We took him to St. Mungo's," Lucy elaborated, clutching her own side. She was less beat, but she was still slouched in pain.

James had taken over when she wheezed for breath. "He fought every medi-witch that approached. Said he just wanted to come home and see you."

"You twat," you scolded in a whisper. It took most of your energy to keep Anthony upright. You schooled your expression, offering a mustered smile to his companions. "Thank you for bringing him home. See yourselves to St. Mungo's. I'll cover your tab when my shift rolls by."

James hooked his arm around a limping Lucy, offering you a grateful smile before producing his wand and apparating in the guise of the rain.

Anthony was tracking blood and mud wherever he walked. It was useless trying to get farther than the living room. You'd rather have a tarnished sofa than a bloodless boyfriend.

"What happened, Anthony?" Your tone was firm, but quiet—careful of a headache that could be blooming behind his ears.

You tore off his coat to get to the scratches on his arms. Repairing him one injury at a time. Even if the injuries were gone, his skin was still drenched in his own sweat and blood. It was a mess, and you'd be damned than leave him looking so trodden.

You accioed a basin of water and a handful of washcloths to your side. Swiping away grime as you healed him.

Only when you began to unbutton his shirt did he find his voice.

"We're moving a bit too fast, sweetheart. Where's your decorum?"

Your gaze held bite. He chuckled like his smile would save him.

"Where's your mind? You've been unresponsive for five minutes! I thought you were stewing in the after-effects of a psychological curse—" You drowned a blood-stained cloth in the basin of water, watching scarlet swirl into the clear water before moving back to his shirt. "—and I'd have to give you a permanent room at the ward, and then break the news to Jess—"

"I'm fine—"

"But I'm not!"

You sat back on your calves, taken aback by your own tone. The backs of your fists pressed into your eyes, forcing your tears back in before returning to assessing his wounds.

He was quiet as you examined the deeper gashes slashed across his torso. Your hands swiped at your cheeks before your lips moved, muttering cures and charms that stitched him up like new.

You wiped the blood away, but you wrung the cloth like you still saw blood. On the fabric, on your hands, on his skin.

Your voice was devoid of life as you asked, "May I see your back?"

He winced as he sat forward. At least the pain wasn't as unbearable as earlier. He saw some herbs swirling in the basin, so it was safe to assume you'd taken extra precautions to make things as painless for him as possible. His heart wrenched as you repaired him and dirtied the water with even more blood.

"I didn't mean things to get messy," Anthony told you slowly. He felt your hand pause on his back, then continue with more careful intent. "The suspect had an accomplice we didn't account for. Had us outnumbered... and they had a spell book full of vulgar spells. Nasty ones."

"So, you took the brunt of them?"

He chanced a smirk. "You know me too well."

"You're reckless."

"I couldn't let my subordinates get hurt," he rasped, sucking in a breath when you purposely pressed down on an open wound.

You magicked it away and cleaned the blood, but you refused to meet his eyes the whole time.

Finally, the insistent shaking of the linked rings faded. It calmed your pulse by a fraction, but nothing could cease the trembling of your hands.

Anthony took the liberty to take them in his, your matching rings clinking against one another.

"I'm here... I'm okay."

You hung your head, forehead meeting your twined hands. "I almost lost you... I couldn't find your pulse right away, and there was so much blood—all I could see was red. Anthony—"

"Shh." He closed the space, flattening himself against your side and drawing you into his chest so you could feel the familiar thrum of his heart. "We're okay. I'm so sorry, sweetheart... I didn't mean to scare you."

You sniffed, hiding your face in his neck. "Why didn't you accept help from St. Mungo's? They have blood banks to replenish what you lost, I can't do much about that here."

He held you tighter, rubbing your arm as he racked his mind. "I thought it was too late for me... I just wanted to see you. I wanted to come home."

You hit his chest once, seething as you sobbed. Your tears wet his shoulder, but he didn't stop you. He took your rage until you went boneless in his arms—clinging to him like it would calm the racing of your heart.

Eventually, you picked yourself up to gather another cloth to wipe away the bloodstains on his face. Hands still shaking but determined to restore him to full health.

As low as it was, he still heard you. "I love you, you know that? It's impossible for me to remember a time where you weren't around."

He searched your eyes, finding nothing but morose truth in them. It was the first time you'd said those three words to him. Explicitly, without sarcastic connotation.

He caught your wrist, lowering your hands so he could look at you. "I know... and I love you, too. I'm sorry."

"Then why put your neck out like that? You promised me a ring, Anthony Lockwood. You gave me your word. You can't do that if you're gone."

"I'd never forget," he promised, kissing apologies across your palms and wrists. "How could I when it comes to you?"

"Then tell me why you put yourself in so much danger— in so much pain."

He licked his chapped lips. Your eyes pleaded for explanation, and he'd be cruel not to suffice you with an answer.

Reluctantly, he retrieved the box in his pocket. It was the only thing untouched by blood. Your eyes snagged on it immediately.

Anthony chuckled, nervous, before popping the case open. Inside sat an ornate ring, embellished with your birthstones put together. An eagle held yours in its talons, and a snake held his in its mouth. Your identities intertwined.

Whatever words you wanted to get out died in your throat, mouth hinging but never uttering a word.

Anthony tried his best not to stutter. "They tried to take it from me... I didn't let them. You can imagine that they weren't happy with being deprived of such a beaut."

You sunk into yourself. "You almost died... to save a ring."

"Your ring," he said carefully. "If you still want to have me as your husband, of course."

"I have half a mind to say 'no'." You laughed bitterly, swiping at your cheeks. "Merlin, Anthony... You have terrible timing when it comes to presenting things like this."

"A lot of realisations happen when you walk the line with Death."

He readjusted his hold on the box, refusing to let go of your hand. You admired the craftsmanship of the ring before you leaned on his shoulder.

"Promise me you'll never do that again. I'd rather have a husband than some hunk of metal."

He let out a breath of relief, hugging you to him as you smiled into his shoulder. "Rude. I learned how to craft a ring just for you."

"You crafted this?"

He felt the world hold its breath as he slid the ring onto your finger. A perfect fit for his perfect match. He kissed your knuckle to further cement the notion.

"From scratch," he boasted. "I made a killing from the pen business. I used the money to take some lessons from a smith in Hatton Garden."

"I cannot believe you..."

"You didn't believe me when I said I cleaned your desks before you'd arrive to class."

"That's different," you said promptly. "You almost got yourself killed to preserve a ring."

"That ring brings me one step closer to marrying you," he tutted. He even leaned down to steal a kiss. "It was worth it."

"I would have brought you back from the dead just to strangle you if you did die on our new sofa."

"Good thing I didn't."

You cracked a smile. "Good thing you didn't," you agreed. "But I'm not forgiving you so easily. You gave me a scare, Mr. Lockwood. I hope you know that you're not allowed to hug me tonight."

"I thought near-death would warrant me extra hugs."

"I can give you everything else, just not hugs."

"How cruel..."

You waved your hand dismissively. "Take it or leave it. What do you want while you're not allowed to hug me?"

Anthony wanted a lot of things. The cheesy dynamics in the books you read, the happily ever after where the couple ends up married and in love with a kid or two. He wants your kids to look like him but act like you, so you two wouldn't spend half the time greying from stress. He wanted to be part of your story forevermore.

But holding your hand would do for now.

He tangled your fingers together and kissed your knuckles. "This is enough for me."

Disbelief was written all over your face. "Really? I thought you'd be more combative."

"We have all the time in the world, sweetheart. We can live in the moment."

"I can only hope you don't jump into some other death-defying scheme again. I'll be all grey before you."

"I think you'd look like the snarkiest grandmother ever."

"Thank you, my love."

His brows furrowed. "My love?"

"What's with that reaction?" Your arms crossed. "Fine. I won't call you that."

"No! I was playing. Say it again, please."

"You lost your chance, snake boy." You shook his hand off, standing from the couch.

You didn't get far. Anthony latched to your waist, smiling into your shirt. "I pledge to never approach a renowned criminal ever again. Just say it again. Please, Sweetheart? Spitfire? My dearest vexation? M'lady?"

You didn't even get close to picking up the basin before Anthony snatched it from you.

"When I get back," he said sternly. "I want to hear you say 'my love' again. Even just a whisper. Thank you."

If you were subject to his clownery for the rest of your life, it wasn't that bad of a price to pay. He was thoughtful when he used his brain.

Every Slytherin boy needed their Ravenclaw girl to keep their ambitions from getting them into trouble, after all.

It wasn't long 'till Lockwood crashed back into your arms. Spinning you in the air like he hadn't been on the verge of death minutes prior. His eyes were wide with expectation, and you didn't want to torture the boy for too long. Not after the lengths he went to to keep your ring safe.

You exaggerated the sweetness in your tone as you said, "My love."

Anthony was more than ready to hear those words for the rest of his life.

Neither of you noticed the pair of cranes that soared past the window, announcing the end of the rain and welcoming the beginnings of a wonderful season.

BONUS ANGST ➺ If I didn't include Jessica, Anthony would be able to see Thestrals. You would do some absurd things to distract him when you pass the carriages—even when you were rivals.

⚜ PART 1 | SERIES MASTERLIST

SWEETHEARTS ➺ @kiyasoup @toddandersondupe @locknco @onecojg @avdiobliss @mentallyillsodapop @mitskiswift99 @mischivana @bella-rose29 @wordsarelife

NOTE ➺ expecto patronus was the title because the initial idea was they always protect each other :>

i like to think mitski's 'my love mine all mine' was the song they danced to. so romantic~ i'm just baffled that i was able to write so many words XD all this was once just brain barf, crazy. it was a rollercoaster, but i hope you enjoyed 💙

as always, leave your thoughts in the comments or reblogs, i love hearing feedback <3

love always 💙 until next time, my dearest vexations 😘

⌠ @novelizt 2023 ⌡

[longdaytogo]

he just got his ass petrificus totalused

[lulublack90]

Prompt 1 - Spring

@jegulus-microfic April 1, Word count 542

The first of April was the Marauder’s favourite day of the year. They spent weeks coming up with pranks for April Fool’s Day. They not only pranked their fellow students, but they pranked each other. 

James had placed a sticking charm on a little toy rat that he’d stolen from Lily’s cat to follow Peter wherever he went. 

All the mirrors that Sirius looked into burped rudely at him, and he’d transfigured all of Remus’s books into copies of Cassandra Vablatsky’s Unfogging the Future. James knew better than to mess with Moony’s chocolate supply, which meant his books were the next option on the list. 

So far, though, the only one not to be pranked was James. Lunch passed, and nothing, not even a nose-biting teacup. He was feeling more and more on edge. He kept flinching whenever one of the others came near him. Sirius took great joy in this and found a multitude of reasons to lean over or brush past him. 

They were walking out of potions together at the end of the day when he was suddenly yanked backwards into an empty classroom. 

“Hey, what the hell?” James yelled before he realised it was his friends. “Oh, what the hell?!” He knew this was it. Instead of them all pranking him separately, they were working together.

“Petrificus Totalus” Sirius flicked his wand, James’s legs snapped together, and his arms stuck to his sides. He was completely frozen in place.  

Peter transfigured James’s robes into a clown costume. 

Sirius performed a much tricker spell. Using the effects of the petrifying jinx, he transformed James’s legs into a giant spring. He and Peter had to grab ahold of him to stop him from falling on his face. 

Remus finished the prank off by sinking what would have been his feet into the stone floor. Sirius unfroze James, and they watched as James wobbled forwards and backwards like a jack in a box without the box. 

The rest of the Marauders left him there, yelling after them as they went to dinner, raucous laughter bouncing off the close corridor walls as they went. 

He yelled himself hoarse, trying to get someone’s attention. He called out again, and the heavy wooden door creaked open, and Regulus’s head popped around it into the room. 

“I thought I could hear your voice.” He said, his brow screwed up in concern. “Are you alright?” 

He came further into the room and caught sight of James’s predicament. The usually stoic boy snorted with laughter and ended up on his hands and knees, gasping for air he laughed so hard. 

Eventually, he composed himself enough to wipe the tears away and stood before his slightly bouncing boyfriend. “Did my brother do this to you?” He asked, stroking James’s cheek.

“And Remus and Peter.” James pouted. “Can you help me?” Regulus took a step backwards, biting his bottom lip. 

“I can, but I’m not going to.” A wicked glint flashed in his eyes as he raised his wand. James’s face was covered in gaudy clown makeup before he could utter a word. 

Regulus pecked a kiss on James’s lips before he left him again. “Happy April Fool’s Day, love.” He cackled as he shut the door behind him.   

[samsonova-multiverse]

[drarry!au "in my head everyone is alive": Draco sneaks into Harry's house on vacation]

James: Malfoy! What the hell?!

Draco: Oh, Mr. Potter! Nice to see you!

James: Get out of my son's bed immediately, you fucking animal!

Harry: Dad, calm down! You've got it all wrong...

James: Bloody hell, Sirius! Look at this!

Sirius, lazily entering Harry's room: It all makes sense to me. Another Potter unable to resist Black's charms.

James, rolling his eyes: You're not helping.

Regulus, taking the cigarette from Sirius: What kind of example are you setting?

Regulus: Draco, love, tea? Water? Leave?

Draco, smoothly climbing out from under the blanket: The last one, I guess.

Sirius: Come on, kid. Stay. Stay. As long as Jamie doesn't turn into a deer and point his righteous horns at you, everything is perfectly fine.

Two days later, Draco was in this situation again, but James had already turned into a stag, as he was able to see a suspicious red spot on his son's neck.

Harry: Dad, stop! Nothing happened!

Draco, sneaking out the window into the courtyard: Come on, it'll be fun!

Regulus, lighting a cigarette under Sirius' mocking gaze: Are you going to bewitch James with Petrificus this time, or am I?

Sirius: Let's not do it this time, shall we? I really wonder if James will follow through, or, as was the case with you, let the kid go, as Orion let Prongs go at one time.

Remus, stepping outside with a cup of tea: How about we don't check? I don't want to know if James remembers the spell Walburga launched at him that time.

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Sirius Black X Reader: The older brother pt2

Took me forever but here it finally is part 2 to The Older brother

Part 1

Summary: You've found yourself intrigued by your friends older brother little did you know he's taken an interest in you as well.

Warnings: unwanted contact, violence, punching, cursing, dirty talk, smut, creampie, 69, cum eating, penetration (p in v), sub/dom(kind of), face fucking, oral (m& f), roughish sex. Not proof read (got lazy)

Word Count: 2K

Ten minutes felt like an eternity. 

You and Sirius had gone your separate ways, each of you trying to pretend that everything was fine. You were failing. Rather miserably in fact. You kept tugging at the hem of your dress anxiously. You’d been the one who started it but Sirius seemed to have a larger effect on you then you expected. Your thighs rub together in desperation for some sort of relief. You glance at the clock in the corner of the room. The one that had magically appeared the second Sirius had whispered in your ears. The room of requirements truly was wonderful.

You watched the clock hands move slowly. Had a minute always taken this long to pass or were you just so desperate that time had started to feel like it had slowed down. You made your way back to the drink table grabbing a shot of firewhiskey and throwing it down your throat. You glanced around the room, eyes searching for Sirius. Instead of catching sight of the black haired boy your eyes meet those of a slytherin one you recognized. He was Reggie's friend no doubt but you couldn’t remember his name for the life of you. Apparently your unyielding gaze had been interpreted as interest causing the boy to make his way to you.

“Bloody hell.”

You cursed yourself for your lingering gaze. Now you would have to deal with a couple minutes of awkward conversation and quite possibly a strong rejection. You raised your head when you heard your name slip from the boy's lips giving him a small smile. 

“How are you doing? Haven’t seen you in a bit.”

“I’m doing alright and you?”

What was his name? It’s on the tip of your tongue yet you can’t seem to remember. The brunette slytherin seems to realize your lack of recognition, letting out a laugh.

“You have no idea who I am , do you?”

“No…sorry.”

“It’s alright. Give me a chance to remind you.”

He moves closer to you, his hands finding your waist, his breath fanning over your face as he moves closer to yours. It’s in that moment that it hits you who this is.

“Barty.”

Despite your lips moving to form Barty's name it’s not your voice that calls it out. You turn towards the familiar sound of Sirius' voice, your body relaxing at the sight of him. 

“What do you want Black?”

“What are you doing?”

“What's it to you?”

“Listen mate, I like fun as much as the next guy but the lady doesn't seem to be enjoying herself. Let her go will you.”

Barty let out a drunken laugh, allowing you to smell the whiskey in his breath. You flinch away from him, trying to get away but his hands grip onto you harder. Sirius watches you squirm his hand clenching into a fist.

“I’m gonna ask one more  time. Let her go.”

“Or what? What are you gonna-”

Before he could even finish speaking your first made contact with his face, causing him to release you as he stumbled backwards. Barty put his hand to his cheek, eyes widening when he saw the blood coming from his busted lip.

“You bitch!”

Sirius' shoulders tensed at the boy's words, preparing himself to knock his lights out but he didn’t need to. The second Barty called you a bitch you've reached for your wand pulling it out in a flash and yelling “Petrificus Totalus”. Barty froze in place his eyes following you as moved closer to him so that your lips were near his ear.

“Pull a stunt like that one more time Crouch and freezing you won’t be the worst thing I come up with.”

You turned around flipping Barty the finger as you made your way to Sirius. The older boy grinned at you.

“That was-”

“Impressive?”

“Hot.”

You swallowed dry at Sirius flirty tone, images of your closet randevu flashing in your mind. You grabbed his hand, dragging him through the crowd towards the door. You could hear someone call your name but you didn’t care. There was only one thing on your mind and you needed to get away from everyone before your desire got to you.

The second you made it into Sirius dorm your hand was on him. You had no idea where the sudden confidence had come from but you weren’t complaining. And neither was Sirius. He’d never admit it to anyone but seeing someone take charge in the bedroom made him incredibly horny. Sirius hadn’t managed to get a single word out since you entered his dorm, far too busy jamming his tongue into your mouth to be able to speak. It was only when you sank to your knees in front of him that he muttered out a breathy “Oh Merlin”. He watched you struggle against his jean buttons, cursing the chains he wore on the belt loops every time they clinked against your rings. It was cute how hot and bothered you were. Sirius enjoyed seeing you like this. It was a lot different than you normally act: always shy and quiet. And now here you were, glancing up at Sirius with the most lustful eyes as you stuffed your palm down his pants.

“Who are you?”

“Anyone you want me to be, baby.”

“Fuck-oh bloody hell love.”

“Gee Siri haven’t even touched you properly and you're already whimpering for me.”

Sirius groaned at your words, his hips thrusting forward. You smiled at him, pulling your hands out from his pants so you could take them off. Before you got to free Sirius dick his hand latched onto your wrist. You turn your head to the side as you look up at him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing love, it’s just….”

Sirius stopped for a moment trying to gather his thoughts. Was he really about to ask you this? He feared you’d be weirded out by his desires, it being your first time together and all. But the way you were looking up at him with lustful eyes as you rubbed your thighs together for some friction made him forget his fears.

“I want to taste you.”

“You can after i’m done i’ll let-”

“At the same time.”

“Sorry what?”

“Gonna make me spell it out hum?”

Sirius let out a laugh, shaking his head as he closed his eyes. Once he opened them again the playful demeanor was gone, replaced by complete and utter lust.

“I wanna fuck you with my tongue while you choke on my cock. Got it love?”

You nodded at Sirius, mouth parting slightly as you tried to steady your heartbeat.

“Well? Are you down?”

“Fuck yeah.”

Sirius pulled you up by the chin, his hands moving to remove your dress in deseparation as his lips moved against yours. The two of you tugged at each other's clothes, removing everything that would get in the way of your fun. Once you were both satisfied you broke apart the kiss, each observing the other's body for a moment. You never get over the sight before you. Sirius Black, Hogwarts notorious flirt, completely bare before you. Your eyes skimmed over his pale skin, eyes falling on the small burn scars littered here and there. You didn’t need to ask what they were. Reggie had told you enough about his family for you to know who was responsible for Sirius' scars. Sirius eyes moved over your bare body, his gaze conturing the beauty of your curves. Beautiful, he thought. Beautiful inside and out. You moved slowly towards him, your lips finding a scar near his collarbone and placing a kiss on it. Sirius hands found their way to your hips, squeezing softly.

“You are so pretty.”

“So are you Siri.”

“I know.”

You swatted at Sirius shoulders as you laughed, nuzzling into his neck.

“I meant it, you idiot.”

“Me too princess. And now I'm gonna prove it to you.”

Sirius walked over to the bed, laying down comfortably before motioning his finger in your direction.

“Come take a seat darling.”

You did as he asked, moving towards the bed. Once you got close enough you climbed onto the mattress, placing your thighs on either side of Sirius face. He latched his hands onto your legs, pulling your pussy flush against his nose.

“Sirius-oh-merlin.”

“Haven't even started and you’re already moaning my name.”

“Shut it you cocky bastard.”

“Cocky’s right. Bastard ah not so much.”

You moved your hand over Sirius dick , stroking it a bit before sinking it into your mouth. Sirius could cum right now, the feeling of your warm mouth on his dick and the feeling of your pussy rutting against his nose making him feel like he’d died and go to heaven. But the night was still young and he planed on lasting more than a fucking teenager. Not that you were gonna make it easy for him.

It wasn’t like you were having an easy time either. Each time you gave Siri a good suck his face lifted a bit causing his nose to bump into your clit. After a while of sucking you moved your hand to fondle Sirius' balls making him cum in a matter of seconds. You followed close after, your hands digging into Sirius thighs as you covered his face in your juices. Despite the soreness in your thighs you managed to manoeuvre yourself off of Sirius face. You laid next to him as you both tried to catch your breaths. Sirius' arm found its way around your body tugging you into his chest. You nuzzled into him sighing happily.

“That good hum?”

“Been a while since i came like that.”

“Seems like you’ve been with some mediocre lads.”

“Yeah I guess. Most boys only care about their own pleasure.”

“Yeah, only real men know how to treat a woman.”

“Oh yeah? Is that what you are, Siri, a man?”

Sirius passed a finger across his face collecting your juices and stuffing his fingers in his mouth. You watched with wonder as the older boy sucked his fingers clean.

“Well I'm the one who's got your cum all over my face aren’t I?”

You give him a cheeky smile, nibbling on the inside of your check as you lean to whisper into his ear.

“Want me to cum somewhere else?”

You reached down to Sirius semi hard cock, fingers skimming over it teasingly.

“Careful kitten, that's a dangerous game you're playing.”

“I think I can handle it.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Before you could blink Sirius pulled you under him, his arms caging you. You moaned as Sirius hand found its way between your legs sticking two digits inside your pussy with ease.

“So wet for me baby.”

“Ah Siri!”

“That's it baby. Gotta get you nice and ready for my cock.”

You clenched around Siris fingers at his words, making him smirk.

“That's what you want right? Want me to fuck you good?”

“Please Siri, I want it so bad.”

“Okay baby, I'll give it to you. But only if you promise to be a good girl.”

“I promise.”

Sirius sank into your cunt, your walls sucking his dick in with ease. He groaned, resting his forehead against yours.

“Merlin, you're warm.”

“Ah fuck-Siri-you’re so big.”

He’d been told that before but for some reason hearing those words come out of your mouth turned some sort of animalistic instinct in him. Sirius started moving against you, his speed picking up with each moan you let out. The wet sound of your pussy filled the room. Sirius was sure that when the boys came back the dorm would still reek of sex but he didn’t give a shit. Right now the only thing he wanted to do was blow his load. Into your perfect pussy to be exact.

“I’m close- ah uh- need to pull out soon.”

“Don-Ah ughhh-don’t….spell-fuck Siri!-i’ll use the spell.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah yeah cum inside.”

Sirius seed filled your cunt as he reached his orgasm, the feeling of your walls tightening as you gushed over his dick making him let out a guttural moan. He sagged into your body, his lips finding your collarbone as you came down from your high. Sirius doubted that this would be the last round. In fact if it was up to him he’d never let you out of his bed. Funnily enough you felt the same way.

Who would have thought falling for your best friend's brother would land you in his bed. Not that you were complaining.

[diremoone]

Hourglass | Sirius Black.

Summary: Fate changes when you intervene and stop Sirius from trying to kill Peter for his betrayal. Sirius doesn’t go to Azkaban, and you and your husband up raising your godson Harry.

****

You barely made it in time. Your scream of hatred distracted Sirius and Peter long enough to petrify your husband — “Petrificus Totalus!” — mere seconds before Peter blew up the entire street.

It was all you could do. You couldn’t kill Peter and you couldn’t let Sirius kill him either. All you could do was stop Sirius, and you’d done it successfully. Even at the cost of him fully directing his anger at you.

“Do you know what you’ve done?!”

“I saved you from getting sent to Azkaban!”

“I would’ve rather!” Sirius yelled. “Peter deserves to die for what he’s done!”

“And Harry deserves to have his godfather in his life!” you fired back, tears streaming down your cheeks. “And I deserve to have my husband! Don’t let Peter do more damage and take you away from me — from Harry!”

Sirius’ face contorted, several different emotions passing through him in less than a second. He looked between where Peter had been, you, and the ground, half-heartedly pacing back and forth angrily. The Aurors would be arriving soon, and he wasn’t entirely sure if they would believe him.

They’d believe you… probably. With your deeper connections into the Ministry and the fact you’ve made many friends over the years, they had to believe your word that Sirius hadn’t killed Peter.

“They’ll check our wands to see what spell we’ve used last,” you mutter as you fix his hair. “Hope yours was—“

“Expelliarmus.” He grimaced, hoping the disarming spell wouldn’t be his undoing.

True to word, when the Aurors arrived, that was the first thing they did. You clenched your teeth together a little too hard when it looked like they were going to break yours and Sirius’ wands. You kept them on one side of you and Sirius, rather than let them circle around you to intimidate you.

Mad-Eye Moody was the one that vouched for the two of you. He also played a big part of scaring off the other Aurors when they got too close and too rude.

Moody side-eyes you with his fake eye and speaks lowly, “Go back to Grimmauld and wait. Dumbledore and McGonagall will be there to advise you on what’ll happen next. Harry should be there with them, too. Be prepared for a trial from the Ministry.”

After about an hour, you and Sirius were finally allowed to go home. The Aurors were erasing the memories of any of the Muggles that had seen anything remotely close to magic.

Apparating back to and inside of Grimmauld Place per Moody’s advice, true to Mad-Eye’s word, both Dumbledore and McGonagall were there waiting for your and your husband, the latter more visibly upset.

Wait, Hagrid’s here?

But you understood why Hagrid was there, seeing what was in his arms before Sirius did.

The half-giant smiled up at you from the couch. “Ah, ‘ere ya go, [Name]. One sleepin’ tyke.”

Hagrid hands you your godson as carefully as a half-giant can. The moment you adjust Harry in your arms, your heart melts and you almost begin to cry.

You want to cry because of how much you already love this boy. You want to cry because of what you’ve lost. You want to cry for Harry and what he’s lost, because he’ll never know his wonderful parents and their devotion and unconditional love for him — the very same love that’s the only reason Harry’s alive.

“O’, don’ cry, [Name].”

“How can I not?” You sniffle, trying not to really cry and get in your feelings too much while you hold the adorable infant. “How can I not be upset after all that’s happened? Harry doesn’t have any parents; he’ll never know them.”

Warm lips press themselves to the side of your temple in a loving kiss.

“He’ll know them as best as he can through us,” Sirius says quietly, but the room is so silent everyone can hear him despite that. “He has us, and we’ll protect him from everything that tries to harm him or come after him. We will protect him, love him the same way Lily and James would have.”

You turn to look at him and reply sadly, “But we’re not his parents, Sirius.”

“No,” he agrees, “but we’re all Harry’s got now. And we’re going to give him the as close to the same life that James and Lily would have.”

At the mention of his name, the baby in your arms shifted. He yawned cutely, then opened his big green eyes that reminded you of your best friend. Your late best friend.

And you wholeheartedly agree with Sirius, “We sure will.”

[ahlyasimps]

A Crucio so Cruel [O.G.]

Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x GN Reader (tried to make it GN)

Summary: Ominis would take a crucio for you, and that’s exactly what you feared.

A/N: Requested by Anon!  

Man, today I’ve written my first fanfic and then 5 more oneshots (2 in drafts). The devil works hard but my thirsty ass works harder. 

As the three of you approached the door blocking your path, Sebastian spoke up, his voice firm. "We need to use the crucio curse to open this door. It's the only way."

You glanced at him, then at Ominis, feeling a shiver run down your spine. The crucio curse was one of the most painful and torturous spells in existence, and you weren't sure you could bear to watch either of your companions suffer through it.

You and Ominis were already holding hands but you felt him grip yours even tighter at those words. He turned to you, his expression suddenly fierce. "Not you," he said. "I won't let you do it."

You frowned, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. On the one hand, you didn't want to experience the curse firsthand. On the other hand, you didn't want to watch either of your friends go through it either.

"I don't want either of you to do it," you said softly, looking from Ominis to Sebastian. "Let me do it. I don't want either of you to have to go through that."

Ominis scowled, his face the very picture of anger and desperation. "No," he said firmly. "I won't let you do it. I know what it feels like, and I won't subject you to that!" he cried gripping your arm. He couldn’t let you go through with this. “I don’t care, I’ll do it. Cast the curse on me!” His voice was practically a sob now. You watched as he became the little boy forced to cast crucio on muggles for his family’s sick entertainment. You saw him remember all the times his own family cast it on him instead, annoyed at his pointless sympathy for what they viewed as wastes of space.

But you could see the determination in his face, and you knew he wouldn't back down easily. You knew he wouldn’t let you go through with this but if he did it, you didn’t think he would be able to recover. So you squared your shoulders, let go of his hand and, while side stepping his attempt at grabbing you back towards him, stepped forward to face the door.

"No," you said, your voice steady. "I'll do it." And so you turned your wand on your beloved, “Petrificus Totalus” and as the light left your wand you sobbed watching your beloved fall to the floor with a look of betrayal and heartbreak on his face.

You turned back to Sebastian who watched this altercation with a look of pain on his face, feeling a surge of fear . You didn't know how you were going to do this or who was going to cast it, but you knew you had to try.

“I can’t do this to you Sebastian,” you whispered, “cast it on me instead.”

“But I can’t do it to you either!” he replied, his voice cracking. “You must.”

As he raised his wand, you closed your eyes and braced yourself for the worst, but seemingly instead of casting a spell, he simply stood there, staring at you. "What?" you asked, feeling a sense of unease settle in your stomach. 

Before he could answer, there was a sudden burst of pain, so intense that you couldn't even scream. Your body felt like it was being torn apart, your bones breaking, your muscles spasming uncontrollably. It took a few moments for you to realize what had happened: Sebastian had cast the crucio curse on you. The pain was so intense you would have done anything to make it stop. You clawed at your stomach as if doing so would gouge out the pain. And then it was over, leaving you gasping and trembling, tears streaming down your face. 

You could hear Sebastian's worried voice, distant and muffled. But all you could think about was Ominis. 

Suddenly you heard a thud as Ominis was freed from your cast and was feeling around the floor desperately trying to find your lying form. His hands found your leg and you quickly felt him move his hands onto your face, tears falling from his. With all the strength you could muster, you leaned forward and kissed his cold lips. “I’m fine,” you whispered “I’ll be alright.”

“No, you won’t be! We need to get you out of here.” He whispered into your lips, breathing heavily from the fear you caused him.

Ominis looked towards you, his expression a mix of horror and worry. You could see the guilt in his eyes, and you knew he regretted making you do this.

Sebastian was silent, his face pale and drawn. You could see the pain in his eyes, the guilt and shame of having to cast such a terrible curse on you.

But despite the pain, you knew you had done the right thing. You had opened the door, and you had saved your lover and friend from having to go through that terrible ordeal.

"It's okay," you said, forcing a smile. "I'm fine."

But you weren't fine. The pain lingered, a constant ache in your bones, a reminder of what you had endured.

[sebastianswallows]

A new family — Chapter 6

— PAIRING: dark!Ominis Gaunt x F!MC

— SYNOPSIS: Ominis gets tired of his family and how miserable life is with them after he graduates. So he follows Sebastian's example for once, and kills them in cold blood. Now that he has the mansion to himself, he discovers he would still like to have a family, but one of his own making.

— WARNINGS: none, but Marvolo gets dealt with 🍵

— WORDCOUNT: 2.5k

— TAGLIST: @littletealight @skarathewitch @myrachondria @mrimperio @ssnapsaurus @tarotwitchy-main @hufflepuff-16 @shameless0shenanigans @imaslytherpuff

“I knew it, you little rodent,” sneered Marvolo. “Couldn’t wait for your inheritance, could you? What happened, ran out of pocket money to keep your classmate interested?”

Ominis stepped further into the drawing room and took his cloak off, casting it wandlessly into the hook of the coat hanger.

“It’s pointless to get upset about it. Our family fortune belongs to me now, whether you like it or not. Not by any particularly legal right, of course, but I claim it nevertheless. And, not that you’re interested, but I already graduated last summer. We both did.”

“You’re still a brat,” chuckled Marvolo. “Still look as if you’re sixteen, do you know that? No, you wouldn’t, would you… You were spared, I suppose, of ever having to be confronted by a mirror.”

“Indeed, I’ve been spared many things recently,” said Ominis, circling around. He did not have his wand out to guide him, and yet he seemed to know exactly where the other two were, keeping a steady distance between the three of them and drawing Marvolo’s attention away from her. “In fact, I’ve taken the liberty of sparing myself from some of them.”

“And I’ll take liberties with your hide,” he growled. “Where’s mother and father? What’ve you done to them?”

“You never never good at Legilimency, Marv, so stop trying. Don’t want to give yourself a headache.”

Marvolo’s lip twitched at the hated nickname, but he ignored it. “Could ask your little bitch, then,” he said, taking heavy steps toward her. “After I’m done with you, she and I can have a very revealing time together.”

Ominis took that quite impassively. Not a muscle on his face moved, stuck as it was in a mien of disgust. His hands were tucked behind his back, and she couldn’t tell if he had slipped his wand out by now from wherever he held it. She feared what would happen if his brother drew first.

“Your threats are so hollow,” she said to Marvolo, turning to distract him. “You couldn’t protect your parents, you can’t protect your fortune, and now your little brother is about to throw you out of your own home.”

“So you lied to me,” he said with a smile. “You batted your lashes and claimed you knew nothing, and all along you were as guilty as my baby brother. Co-conspirators, is that it? I didn’t think you had it in you…”

“You have no idea what I have in me, but you’re about to find out.”

He laughed, loosening his arms and posture in what she recognised as preparation for a duel. “Oh, I’ll relish what’s inside you, not to worry,” said Marvolo with a grin.

He was fast, drawing his wand out to cast Petrificus at her — and she was half-right, it was up his sleeve — but she was faster. She raised it out of her skirt pocket, blocked the curse, and aimed Expelliarmus at him before he cast anything else. His wand flew off behind him, knocking a crack into the glass cabinet. It left Marvolo clutching his wrist in pain.

“Ow, you little bitc—”

Distantly, she heard Ominis call her name, but she would not ruin this moment by listening to him.

She could tell Ominis had spent years refining his hatred into something he could live with, but she had not had the luxury. She hated Marvolo enough to kill — for his cruelty, for his arrogance, for his lack of shame at what he had become — although she would not take that privilege away from Ominis and take Marvolo’s life herself. She did not have long to think before he lunged at her or retrieved his wand, so she did the first thing that came to her mind.

“Relish this,” she growled. It was a complex spell, and she cast it quite instinctively, letting magic flow through her and do the work in her stead. With a wave of her wand, Marvolo clattered to the ground with a chime.

“Wh-what happened?” asked Ominis, stepping cautiously toward her. He did, in fact, have his wand out in his hand behind his back. Now, he scanned the surroundings, frowning in confusion. “Where’s Marvolo?”

“Exactly where he was a moment ago,” she said with a bright smile. “Only a little more… compact.”

“I heard a sound. Did he break something?”

She merely laughed and stepped forward to pick him up. When she returned to Ominis, she wrapped his hands around the object: it was a teakettle. Ominis frowned for one second, but then his brows shot up. He fought against a growing grin.

“He’s not dead,” she said. “I didn’t know if that was what you wanted. But… unless he can perform wandless magic, he’ll be in this state for quite a while. And I haven’t told you the best part yet.”

“There’s a better part?” laughed Ominis. His cheeks were blushing and his smile made his eyes shine. He seemed exhilarated from what just happened, and even somewhat… flattered, by what she’d done for him. “Tell me...”

“He matches the others.”

The kettle that used to be Marvolo was bone-white, just like the tea cups, and quite evenly round in shape reflecting his sturdy body. From around his middle and curling toward the top was a screaming skull veiled in grey shadow whose mouth cut off right at the split of the lid.

Ominis burst into laughter. He never would have thought that she would do something like this for him… He was ready to do it himself, to kill Marvolo in fact, which was why he kept his wand hidden until the last moment. But of course, she was faster. It was only natural, seeing as she was far more experienced in duelling than him — and, needless to say, more than Marvolo.

“This is certainly… the most impressive Christmas present I’ve ever received.”

“Oh, that’s not your present,” she said softly. “Consider it a cherry on top.”

“I can’t wait to see the real thing, then,” Ominis grinned, gently cupping her elbows. “But, first I… I want to apologise,” he said, his smile dying. “I didn’t defend you when he said those horrible things about you —”

“Oh Ominis, that’s alright…”

“I didn’t want him to think —”

“I understand…”

“Didn’t want him to know how much I care about you —”

“I know, I —” She paused mid-sentence.

“— how much you mean to me…”

Her breath caught in her throat, eyes growing wide at his confession. She understood before then that Ominis felt something for her, but to hear him say it in that way, so raw and vulnerable and unguarded, moved something inside of her that until then had been still.

“I… I care a great deal about you too,” she said.

“I understand that,” he chuckled. “Not many people would kill for me, I think.”

“Remember, he’s not dead yet. We should be cautious about him.”

“Where’s his wand?”

They went together to the back of the room and found it laying on the floor. Ominis picked it up while she placed Marvolo in the glass cabinet, arranging his family around him.

“There,” she smiled. “A full set.”

Ominis waved his wand toward them to see and smirked at the display. “They go well together, especially with you in the picture, smiling triumphantly.”

“You can tell when I’m smiling?” she asked with delight.

“Yes, your cheeks get a little fuller when you do.”

She chuckled and came beside him. “What do you want to do with the wand?”

“I want to break it in half,” he said. “But we should probably keep it.”

“Alright. Where?”

Ominis thought it through for a moment. “Perhaps it’s unwise, but…” He went and put it in the cabinet as well, not far from the teapot that was Marvolo. “If he can undo the spell on his own, wandlessly, then he deserves to get out. That and I delight in thinking it will be right there, tempting him all the while.”

She couldn’t help but grin. It certainly wasn’t wise, but she had to appreciate Ominis’ lust for danger. It seemed to be a new part of him, now that he was free of his family, and free to become himself…

She approached him from behind and hugged him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “So, when can I give you your proper gift?”

“When I shall give you mine,” he said, turning his face half-toward her. “At Christmas.”

“Are you certain?”

“Only way to make sure you stay that long,” he smiled.

She did, of course. She could not imagine leaving now. Ominis had been a bit rattled after everything, and on a couple of occasions late at night she thought she heard him scream, but generally he was happier, more lively, and even… confident. He no longer showed off about anything in particular, either good nor bad, and came and went by as the mood struck. Sometimes they spent their mornings and lunch and had afternoon tea together, and other times when he wanted to retreat somewhere, he did, and returned to her just as at ease.

The week between Marvolo’s transfiguration and Christmas passed in a powder white whirl of snow outside while the inside was garnished green and red. She and Ominis decorated the manor, perhaps for the first time, with holly and ivy and ribboned garlands that hung over the fireplace. They spent a whole morning making paper chains to throw about the place, and little paper angels to set upon the tables. They had the elves bring in a pine tree and placed it in the drawing room, and lost an evening just to decorate it with tinsel and candles. Apples and walnuts tied with string stood in for globes.

“Doesn’t compare to the Hogwarts one,” she said as they stood back to admire it. It was the 23rd of December.

“Doesn’t matter,” said Ominis with a smile. “It smells just like it.”

They had a modest Christmas dinner of roast goose caught from a flock on the Gaunt grounds, with mince pies of meat and fruits and spices, and ended it with the traditional pudding soaked in alcohol and set on fire before serving. They helped themselves to Firewhisky from his family’s stocks and served it while playing music boxes of Carols that they’d bought from a muggle music shop.

“You know, I don’t believe I’ve spent this day with fewer than four people, ever,” said Ominis. “But this is the least lonely Christmas I’ve ever had, with you here.”

A smile bloomed on her face before she even knew it, and her cheeks felt hot. “I… that’s… I don’t know what to say. But, I feel the same,” she whispered, laying his hand over his. They were sitting on the floor before the fire, with plates of treats and half-drunk glasses of Firewhisky all around.

“I hope it hasn’t been a disappointment to you…”

“Not at all!”

“We can visit Poppy tomorrow, and stop by Imelda and Everett’s too. Or, anyone else, really. We’re free to go wherever we like now.”

“I’d like that,” she grinned. “I’m not sure I have presents for all of them, but I could put something together tonight… I hear Poppy is quite fond of poacher-sized metal cages that shrink.”

Ominis chuckled and laid back on his stretched arms. “Speaking of presents…”

“Oh,” she giggled. “Yes, I’ve yet to give you yours…”

“Do you want to go first?”

“I… I do. Wait here.”

She got up and took the package from where it was hidden beneath a cushion on the sofa — an unnecessary act, as Ominis had known about it since they dealt with Marvolo, but it seemed appropriate to conceal it. It made the act of bringing it to him that much sweeter.

She kneeled beside him and shyly handed him a small, rectangular box wrapped in green paper with a big white bow attached.

“It isn’t much, but…”

“It doesn’t have to be,” he softly said. “I still believe your handling of Marvolo was the greater present.”

“Well then, this one can only disappoint,” she laughed. “But here, it’s yours anyway.”

Ominis took it, passed his hand across its every surface, and then carefully unwrapped it. The box inside had a grey velvet finish and opened to reveal a pair of gloves. Ominis ran his fingers over them and frowned in confusion.

“Put them on,” she said excitedly, leaning forward to not miss a thing.

He did, slipping them on one at a time and fastening them with the little gold buttons that were at the inner wrist. At first, he didn’t react at all, but when he placed one hand down on the floor to steady himself, his brows jumped.

“Oh!”

“Yes?” she grinned.

“I feel… Oh, this is strange,” he laughed, fighting a grimace. And yet he couldn’t take his hand from the floor. “We have this ugly thing?”

“What do you feel?”

“I can taste the colour of the carpet. It’s… stale and muddy, tastes the way dried moss smells.”

“Oh dear,” she laughed. “I wouldn’t say that, but…”

“Where did you find these?”

“From a special shop. You needn’t concern yourself,” she said smugly. “I’ve tried them on for a bit, and mostly agree with the gloves. They don’t capture grey very well though, I think. Some shades are sweeter than they taste.”

“Well, I… shall have to decide that for myself,” said Ominis. He was still and measured in his movements, but she could see how bright his smile was, how wide his eyes. His hands now felt all around him in wonder, from the carpet to his tie to the box the gloves came in.

“Do you like them?” she asked.

“I love them,” said Ominis, turning to her with a sweet and vulnerable smile. “Thank you.”

“I’m relieved… Thought you might not like the effect.”

“I shall have to be careful what I touch,” he confessed. “It’s like having a box of Every Flavour Beans that never ends.”

“Do you think we could each wear one and compare how we taste? I-I m-mean how things taste to us…”

“I’d love that,” he grinned, not missing a second. “Which reminds me, it’s time for your gift.”

Ominis pealed the gloves off and put them back inside their case. She expected him to get up and take her present from its hiding place. Instead, he merely reached into his pocket. He turned to her, took her hand, and in the other he held out a small, black satin box.

It was too small to contain anything other than…

“This is my Christmas present to you,” he said with a shy smile. His voice on the verge of trembling. He eased the box open with his thumb and index finger, and tightened his grasp on her hand. “If you would accept it, I mean…”

“Ominis, what —”

“The only thing I have to offer you is myself.”

[collecting-stories]

Treacherous - Remus Lupin

Request: i love you taylor swift song series!! i was wondering if you could possibly write a fic for treacherous using remus lupin:)) xoxo

Summary: After being left suddenly some months earlier the reader stumbles upon Remus in an old bookshop.

A/N: I made this more as Remus being the one sort of, cautious to trust the relationship and then kind of being pulled in because I thought it made for a nice story that way.

TS Anthology Series | Harry Potter Masterlist

...I hear the sound of my own voice, asking you to stay...

"So this is where you've been hiding?" you asked, fingers running over the edge of a cling-film wrapped fudge brownie. You picked it up off the tray of baked goods and set it atop the book you had laid on the counter. A pretty hardback edition of Dracula that you probably wouldn't even crack the spine on but that you would proudly display on your bookshelf. 

You hadn't come up to Tyne upon Wear looking for Remus, obviously. You hadn't heard from him in months and weren't even entirely sure where he had landed after leaving Hogwarts and then James summer cottage. It was an accident of nature, a fluke (though you could hear Peter in the back of your head saying that it was 'fate') that you were here for holiday and that you had walked into this bookstore. 

"I've not been hiding," Remus rebuffed, taking the book and the brownie, his fingers brushing yours. "Who told you that?"

You shrugged, "no one. I just assumed, I mean, this isn't exactly close to anyone." You knew Sirius had gotten a flat in London and Lily and James were talking about Godric's Hollow. Peter was in London too but you felt like you rarely saw him these days, though more than Remus. 

"My nan's from this area," he replied, eyes never straying from the till. He'd seen you outside the window, staring a book on display, partially obscured by the sign painted on the glass. Hiding seemed like a marvelous idea, ducking down behind the counter or slipping behind a bookcase. Marvelous but impractical, probably, at the very least unprofessional. And besides, he was too slow to act. He felt like he'd frozen in place the moment you appeared, as if someone had cast a petrificus totalus spell over him. Remus just stood there and then you turned your head to the side and looked through the window and saw him and smiled. 

When you came into the shop, Remus wasn't entirely sure if the bells he could hear ringing where the ones above the door or the ones in his own head. You hadn't said anything at first, just smiled and browsed around the front of the store, very obviously for show, before plucking a book off a shelf that Remus knew you owned, putting it on the counter for him to ring up. He'd expected you to hate him the next time you saw each other. Perhaps you would yell or give him the cold shoulder or, worst of all, he'd be gone so long that you would move on without him. But here you were and you didn't look upset at all. As if he hadn't disappeared, as if you believed him when he lied and said he wasn't hiding. 

"I don't think I knew that," you looked genuinely like you were trying to remember if he had ever mentioned his nan to you or where in Britain she lived. 

"What are you, uh...what are you doing here?" He asked, moving away from the topic of his family (always a rather delicate matter as you knew) and onto something more important, at least in his mind. You were here and you must've been here for a reason and he hadn't spoken to Lily or James or Sirius or Peter in months which meant that no one could have let on that he was here. No one knew, as far as he was aware, aside from himself and he wasn't advertising the information. 

"Oh, on holiday," you replied. "I was quite influenced by Sirius...or at least that awful monstrosity of his."

"The bike?" Remus asked, eyebrow raising in suspicion, "you've not bought one, have you?"

"No, god no. But I have come into possession of a lovely little green people-carrier. It's quite lovely and I've decided to drive it up the coast to Scotland. Trouble is, I always forget about the petrol until I get going," you explained, "I'm afraid I ran out of gas. A very friendly old man in a funny looking truck picked me up though, picked up the car as well! I believe he called it a tow. How marvelous really, a tow."

"So an empty tank brought you here?" He clarified. How truly like you to forget something so vital but also how like the universe to play such terrible tricks on him as this one. To have you strand yourself on the side of a road just kilometers from him and forced to be deposited into his town. "Where are you staying?"

"A cute little B&B. My room has floral wallpaper and a little tea kettle on a hot-plate. I've not used the hot-plate though the old lady explained it to me...seems very tricky if you ask me. I'd much rather just magic the pot." 

"I don't know of any....that is, I think the town is largely muggles." Remus replied.

"I gathered. Don't worry Remus, I haven't been waving my wand about everywhere I go." You laughed. You took the bag he pushed across the counter, your book and brownie inside. "I missed you quite a lot."

Graduation had felt wildly exciting. All that talk of future plans and goals had never been overshadowed, even when inklings of sadness had crept through at the thought of not seeing your friends every single day for months at a time. You would all be close, you were sure of it. James planned the summer holiday, an almost immediate trip to a summer cottage for a small (though large at the final head count) group of friends to avoid saying anything like goodbye to each other right away. 

The summer cottage had been lovely and you and Remus had only just begun dating each other before the holiday, still shy about each other in the way that new romances are. It had felt exciting, to be away with him. You'd been friends for so long, seven years, and then you were dating and suddenly it was like everything was new and you thought it would all last forever. But then you'd woken up on the last morning at the cottage and Remus was gone and you didn't see him again. Until this very moment, in a tiny bookshop in a little seaside village of muggles. 

"I'm sorry," Remus began to say but you shook your head, stopping him from saying anything more.

"No need to be sorry," you promised. You'd experienced a vast range of emotions in the days and weeks and months post Remus' departure. Ultimately though, you knew your friend well and knew that (despite Sirius always getting the credit for being the one most prone to dramatics) Remus could be very dramatic when he chose to be. Disappearing was not as surprising as you would have liked it to be when you actually thought about it and had resolved yourself to the knowledge that should he choose to, he would show up again. He couldn't stay disappeared forever. And you were mildly thrilled to know that you were right about that, though he was found out against his will, completely by accident. "You're not as unpredictable as you might think Remus."

"I wasn't trying to be unpredictable," he reasoned, "I just-"

"I know." You cut him off, "I've had ages to think out all your reasonings and arguments and I've reenacted them all with myself. I can't imagine you could argue your case any better than I already have," you explained. "Now, what time does this little shop close?"

"Why?"

"Because I just told you that I missed you and I'm certainly not planning on walking out the door and leaving and not seeing you again Remus. In this singular case I would use Peter's reasoning and say that this," you gestured between the two of you, "is certainly fate. I'm not one to ignore fate, should think you wouldn't want to either." 

Remus sighed, shoulders relaxing as though he were giving up a fight and probably, he was. "About an hour. I need to sweep up when I'm done. And there are a few books left to put away."

"Oh well, that's much too much work love, I simply can't wait that long." You joked, looking around the shop. You and he were the only ones in there. "Shall I browse around or can I have a stool?"

"I only have the one," he replied, side eyeing the stool that was placed beside him behind the counter. He wasn't sitting on it and hadn't in the entire time you'd been there. 

"Is it a prized possession?" You joked, "or am I just not allowed behind the till?"

Remus shrugged, "you are."

You came around the side of the counter, placing your bag down and sitting on the stool beside him. You fished the brownie back out of the bag and carefully removed the cling-film, "are you allowed a snack on the clock?"

"You don't really have to wait here," Remus said, taking the brownie piece from you and popping it into his mouth. 

You watched him for a moment, suddenly well aware how many 'little things' there were about him that you had missed. Minute details like the satisfied smile he always gave away without knowing when he ate something sweet. Or the way he brushed his thumb across the tips of his fingers, ridding his hand of invisible crumbs. 

"Why are you looking at me like that?" He asked, realizing that you were watching him, cheeks staining a lovely pink at the attention. 

"I am committing you to memory, in case you should disappear again."

"I didn't mean to leave you...I mean," he sighed, hands clasping together as he cracked a few of his knuckles. You noted a newer looking scar on the back of his left hand. Your boy was never careful with himself when he was alone. 

"Relationships as scary for everyone Remus," you replied. You had already been through all these conversations, you wanted to remind him. You knew what he would say. "Sometimes you just have to decide it's important enough to do the scary thing."

"How philosophical of you."

"No need to be mean to me," you replied, hearing the edge in his voice. 

He shook his head. Taking a box of books that was sitting behind the counter, Remus passed you and walked around the counter, out to the middle of the shop. You watched him disappear behind a bookcase, going to house some books and avoid further conversation on the topic of his leaving. You knew it was a sore subject for him (Remus was quite talented at making almost everything a sore subject for himself) but it wasn't easy for you either. He was the one who had left but you were the one who was left behind. 

"Do you love me?" You think aloud, turning in your stool to try and see Remus down an aisle. You can hear the soft rustle of books stop abruptly and then he appears, as tall as the case itself, eyes wide as he stares at you from behind the fringe that hangs in his face. He looks surprised, perhaps caught off-guard and you aren't really shocked. He'd told you plenty of times that he did, over and over for months from the week after you began dating until the early hours of the morning in James' summer cottage, hours before he left you. 

"What?"

"Do you love me?"

"Why would you ask me that?" Remus questioned, tongue darting out to lick his lips nervously. 

"Because I want to know the answer," you offered, "do you love me?"

"Of course I love you," he finally replied, frowning. 

"Well, it's hard to know Remus, you did leave after all."

"You said you weren't upset about that." He reasoned.

"No, I believe I said that I'd already given myself all your arguments. I considered that maybe you didn't love me and that was the reason. A clean break...I only considered it for a moment though, you wouldn't have left everyone like that if you didn't love just me," you explained, "so I thought about it and I decided that you did love me."

"Then why ask?"

You ignored his question, continuing your explanation instead, "you love me but you're ridiculously afraid of that."

The look he gave was particularly sour, as though he was trying to be mad but couldn't quite bring himself to stop being embarrassed at having been caught out long enough to succeed in being angry. "What's your point?"

"We've been friends since we were eleven, sitting beside each other on the train. And I've known about you since third year," you reminded him, "so what are you afraid of?"

"We all have our own lives now," Remus argued, as if that was actually a legitimate reason for leaving everyone behind, "you don't need to be burdened with-"

"You know I love you also," you said, cutting him off, "I hate when you say things like that. Burdened, as if I'm not actively choosing to sit here with you and ask that you give it another go."

"It's different out here. There is no shrieking shack. Sirius, James, Peter...they have their own lives. They can't be dropping everything whenever it's a full moon. We can't go on this way forever." 

"You may not, you said yourself that Dumbledore told you there was a potionist working on something for-"

"It wouldn't stop the transformation...if it works," Remus replied, "I just, wouldn't lose my mind. And you'll remember that Dumbledore said it would be extremely difficult to come by and even harder to make." He pointed out. 

You sighed, standing up from the stool and walking over to him, "always the pessimist. What are you afraid of?"

"I've told you," he took a step back, as if he were afraid that you might cage him in.

"Not really," you argued, "you've given me plenty of excuses though. I'm not afraid of you, Remus, and none of your friends would ever leave you alone with anything. You know that." 

"I can hardly find work. I've been here four months and missed countless days, if it did any real business I doubt they'd want me around. How can I contribute to any sort of relationship if I can't even work. Not to mention that afterward I'm," he glanced at the newer scare on his hand and you knew what he meant, he used to spend days after in the infirmary when you were at Hogwarts, "and I've a terrible temper, which I know you are aware of, and you were right before I was being mean, and I still haven't quit smoking and I have a terrible diet. Can hardly keep anything down these days, I'm always nervous. And I don't like to go out and I'm not very romantic and I have terrible insomnia-"

"I know all of these things about you Remus," you replied, cutting him off as he rambled. 

Remus sighed, setting the books in his hands down on the shelf and then, unsure of what to do with himself, reached for your hands (which you gave willingly). "I have very little control over most things in my life and I...as trifling as it sounds, I'm quite terrified of giving up control of my emotions," Remus admitted, "suppose that's what I'm afraid of after all, allowing myself to love you. God, I sound like some tragic muggle novel."

"You sound very honest, and not trifling at all," you replied, "you're allowed to be afraid Remus, but you've got to vocalize these things. Running off to a little corner of England alone isn't a very good solution. Don't punish yourself...or me for that matter."

"I know." 

"Besides," you mentioned, tugging his hands gently so that he moved closer to you, so close in fact that you had to tilt your head just slightly to look him in the eye, "you know me well enough to know I'll take supremely good care of all your parts, heart very much included."

He hummed, "good to know." He leaned ever closer, to give you a kiss and to relish in the sensation of being kissed by you, something he had not allowed himself to enjoy for months and now wondered how it was he had managed for even an hour. You were right, and he wasn't surprised by that fact at all. He had been afraid and could still feel the grip of that fear in the back of him mind, no matter how distracting (or reassuring) you managed to be. "I do love you," Remus admitted again, "very much. My leaving...it wasn't because of you, and I never meant to hurt you. I didn't...I didn't think I would."

"You didn't think I would be absolutely gutted?" 

"I suppose I was trying not to think too much about it at all," he replied, honestly. Remus wasn't nearly as daring as James could be, or Sirius for that matter, but he liked to think that in most aspects he was willing to take a risk. It was in the matter of giving himself to some that he found he struggled. If he gave too much away, what would be left of him at departure (and he was always expecting a departure). He'd given all of himself to his friendships, to James and Lily and Sirius and Peter. How could he risk anyone else being granted the ability to hurt him?

But then, you'd been more than willing to take that risk, wholly unafraid of one year or four years or ten years down the road. You weren't thinking in endings, only in right then. And right then you loved him (though probably tomorrow you would too. And in one year, four years, ten years). 

He kissed you again, because even the minutes between when he had just kissed you and right at the moment he did it again felt like it had been too long. He'd missed you terribly and he hadn't really let himself acknowledge it until he'd seen you through the window. 

"I do have to finish closing up," Remus admitted, pulling away from you. 

"Do you?"

"You can help," he replied, "stop distracting me."

"I'm not being distracting," you laughed, "if anything you're the one who's distracting." 

"How so?" He let go of you and moved back toward the box of books, beginning to sort through them. 

"How so?" You repeated the question, a tone of disbelief in your voice as you stared at him. "Well I would tell you but I doubt that you would believe me."

"Probably not," he admitted, knowing his proclivity for self-deprecation. 

You shook your head at him, looking about the small shop, "alright where's the broom then? I'll sweep up," you said, "no magic, I suppose?"

"No magic."

[ghaniblue]

@microficmay day 21: unhand. Earlier chapters: 1-8, 9-20 or #fic: driftwood or read on AO3.

Sirius should be a lot harder to track down. Doesn't he know there's a war on?

I Petrificus Totalus him before he can whip his wand out, and whisk him off to Orkney. 

"Listen up, chucklehead," I open negotiations with. I do enjoy this moment of triumph, I must say. 

| >>

[cherryslyce]

The Avarice Files (III) | Regulus Black

Series Synopsis: Boundless uncertainty ensues when you’re tasked to complete a mission requiring time travel for the Ministry. The best part? Your partner, acclaimed hero of the Great Wizarding War, Regulus Black, a man who was supposed to be long dead.

— Chapter Synopsis: A confrontation ensues and Regulus provides enlightening truths.

Part II / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader

Notes: Exactly 5.2k words. Apologies for the wait!

Every fiber of muscle in your body draws taut with primal fear, adrenaline bleeding into your senses as you stare at the wand pointed at you. Despite the physiological distress surging through your being, your face slackens into an unimpressed scowl. The mystery man sneers at you and emphatically jabs his wand toward you, eyes narrowing further. “I said, who the hell are you?”

“And what the hell are you saying?” You cross your arms, eyebrows drawing together as you steadily hold his gaze. 

The man faintly lowers his wand, beginning to circle around you with an intrigued gaze. “Fascinating. You really have not done your research.” A derisive chuckle crackles into the stiff air as your eyes find him again. 

Even if you could, there was no use trying to convince the man, you couldn’t leave any witnesses anyway. Spinning on your heel, you frown and move across the room toward the bar, snatching a decanter containing amber liquid and a whiskey glass from the shelves. “How insulting.” 

Your musing has the man raising his eyebrow, wand dropping to his side as he cautiously watches you. “Insulting?” He echoes, voice tinted with unadulterated curiosity. The change in his demeanor has you sniffing into the air as you pour yourself a glass. 

“Yes. To be confronted by someone like you of all people.” You hum, taking a sip of the alcohol. Scotch. 

Tipping back the rest of the drink into your mouth, you slam the glass onto the polished bar and smile caustically at the man. Slipping your wand into your hand, and concealing your movements behind the wide bar, you tilt your head and hum out to him in your normal voice, “Who are you anyway?” 

“Henry Mulciber.” The man’s knuckles whiten as a triumphant grin mars his face, “Decent accent, by the way. Pity that you couldn’t fool me, hm?” 

“I’ll give credit where it’s due. How’d you know?” You ask with light curiosity, running your thumb along the handle of your wand. 

A chuckle slips past his lip, “Asking to move to private quarters? My dove could have cared less about being found out.” He twirls his wand and gives you a look of deep consideration. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you too bad. I’ll let Clyde decide what to do with you, you did break into his home after all.” 

“Charming,” you snark back, licking your lips as you discreetly cast a silencio over the room. “But apologies, you know how business can be.” You smile cryptically at him, momentarily relishing in the confused look that flashes across his gaze. Before he can retort, your hand flies over the counter and the words are streaming from your mouth in a flat mutter, “Petrificus Totalus.” 

To your dismay, Mulciber manages to duck quick enough to avoid your jinx, the spell missing him by a hair’s length. The man flies up from his crouch not a second later and has you taking cover as his arm snaps towards you, a reverberating Crucio spewing from his mouth cruelly. 

The red bolt crashes into the shelf behind you, splintering the mahogany wood and sprinkling the floor around you with pins of polished red. You grit your teeth and swiftly shuffle to the end of the bar, leaping up from your new spot as you throw a potent reducto at the glass coffee table beside him. The thick panes burst into the air in shimmering fragments before evanescing as they flee the light of the chandelier. Mulciber instinctively raises his arm to guard his face as his body tilts away from the destruction. 

“Incarcerous!” You grit out, rounding out of the bar as the spell knocks the man off his feet, his body crashing into the glass-strewn floor with a resounding thud. The binds around him tighten as he begins to wiggle and grunt, but just as you point your wand at him again, the door bursts open. 

Your head snaps up in shock as you peer at the intruder, breathing out a sigh of relief when you see Regulus with a deep purple tome tucked by his side. “Dear merlin. You’re finally here. I may have made an error in judgment.” 

Regulus goes to say something, eyes wide with disbelief as he takes in the scene, but he is interrupted by a strangled yell from Mulciber. “Diffindo!” 

The orange beam shoots toward your neck and you feel your entire soul evaporate away before a thundering stench of impending death wraps itself around your body. Throwing yourself away from the approaching cutting spell, you grunt out as it slices through the muscles of your shoulder. 

Molten pain erupts from the flowing laceration, warm blood pouring down your attire as you feel a biting chill drip down your spine and to your toes. Regulus flies from the doorway and toward Mulciber’s body just as a million tingling needles settle down your arm. Assessing your injury, you nearly reel back in shock as you see red everywhere. The spell probably severed a few ligaments—and Merlin, is that your bloody bone? 

You pay no mind as you hear a loud grunt from in front of you. Regulus could be kicking in the man’s face for all you know, but you are too enraptured by the sight of whatever was left of your shoulder. 

Another day at work, another injury. 

Huffing, you raise your eyes just in time to see Regulus releasing the binds from an unconscious Mulciber. “Thanks.” You mutter, moving your gaze to fixate on the artifact that was now lying on one of the lounge chairs. It was emitting a faint pulse of magic that whispered indecipherable promises through your head, causing you to step back in wonderment. 

Definitely not an ordinary artifact.

Regulus maneuvers Mulciber from the floor, propping him up on the opposite chair before turning to face you. “You’re bleeding.” 

“Astute observation.” You huff out, grunting when Regulus gently pushes you to sit down by the tome with your good shoulder. 

He lifts his wand up to the wound, muttering a quiet Vulnera Sanentur under his breath and only releasing a pleased hum when your wound begins to heal under the coat of your blood. “You handled it well.” He swiftly follows up his words by repairing the tear through your sleeve.

You smile wobbly at the man and sink into the cushions behind you. “I’m surprised as well. You’re good with healing spells, do you get hurt a lot?” Your curious eyes flicker from the tome beside you to Regulus as he holsters his wand. 

“Not too badly anymore.” He grunts, turning to face the unconscious man across from you. You both grimace as a trail of drool slides down his chin, hair now resembling disheveled foliage as his head tips awkwardly onto his shoulder. 

Gently rolling your newly healed shoulder, you get up and prop a hand on your hip, shaking your head in amusement at the sight. “Oh how the mighty have fallen so.” 

Regulus shakes his head, but you can see the inkling of a self-satisfied smirk on his face. You walk over to the obliterated shelves and search for any surviving bottles of alcohol, bringing your wand up to repair the mess. “Reg, can you undo his collar a bit?” 

You huff as you clear the mess of glass fragments and spilt alcohol, eyes frantically scouring over the never ending mess. 

“Aha.” You mutter to yourself, wrangling a hefty wine bottle from a lower cabinet. Regulus complies with your previous request wordlessly, only offering a look of bemusement when you wander back over with the bottle and a glass.  

“Oh. You fixed it.” You falter in your steps as you see the glass table sitting spotless in its original spot. 

“Are we toasting?” He quietly hums, standing back as you crack open the bottle. 

“Not quite, maybe later.” You reply, pouring the wine into the cup. Pushing the glass in front of Mulciber’s unconscious body, you pull your wand out and dispel the rest of the wine from the bottle. 

Putting the empty bottle in Mulciber’s slack hand, you turn to look at Regulus with a proud grin. “Do you want to do the honors of waking him up?” 

“Sure.” Regulus says, raising his eyebrows at your elaborate set up. The man shuffles by you before raising his wand up and casting a swift Rennervate. You ready your wand as Mulciber’s eyes fly open in panic, pupils darting from side-to-side before they settle on you both. 

You were sure that if he had the energy, he’d be frothing at the mouth. “You!—” 

Before he can continue, you point your wand at his sluggish figure, “Obliviate.” You channel all your magical energy into ensuring that any suspicion of your infiltration and duel is wiped clean from his memory. The man slumps back down in a daze and Regulus gives a low huff as Mulciber’s expression droops with a glassy-eyed look.

“Best we get going then.” You mumble, beginning to retreat from the room as Regulus strides after you with the file. “Does this place have a back door or something?” 

Regulus takes another once over of the room to check for missed damage before shutting the door behind him with a small exhale. “Yeah, we should hurry before the potion wears off.” 

“My joints are tingling a bit.” You quietly confirm, falling back to let Regulus lead you through the maze of hallways. 

The winding corridors eventually come to an end once Regulus locates a narrow entryway seemingly at the end of the west wing. The walls are noticeably less vibrant, with a haze of dust dimming the atmosphere around you. Regulus continues forward through the slim doorway, turning to peer at you once he steps through. “Watch your step, these stairs are a bit worn.” 

Mutely nodding, you both swiftly descend down the stairwell until you step onto a small landing between two sturdy green doors. Regulus deftly twists the right door open, cautiously peering through the crack before swinging it open for you. 

You have to squint as you make your way through, the bright light of the daytime sky stinging at your eyes as your shoes crunch against the verdant grass. “Where did the other door lead to?” You ask smally once Regulus falls into step beside you. 

“The kitchen.” Regulus mutters, sighing once you both near the wards, likely tired of the repetitive process. 

You pull out your wand and perform the interception charm again, feeling a shiver vibrate across your body as the Polyjuice Potion in your system nears the end of its life. Regulus waits for you to step through and into the edge of the forest before he continues behind you, “I’ll go fetch those two.” 

He hands you the file before disappearing into the dense forestry with one last glance toward you, beginning to undo his overcoat as his body starts to morph back. You clear your throat and make your way over to the tree hollow, relieved to see that your bag is still tucked away inside the inky pocket. 

As you haul the woven bag out, the sound of heavy footsteps echoes toward you, indicating that Regulus had arrived with the two stunned Italians. Turning around, you smile faintly as Regulus hurries over, the two bodies resting along his shoulders swaying as he carefully lowers them to the ground. 

You begin to pull out all of your clothes, remembering to be careful with Regulus’ mask as your fingers graze against its hard surface. The next few minutes are painted with a busy silence as you both work to tear off your outfits before you both completely transform back, a mutual understanding blossoming as you both turn away from each other to get situated. 

“Are you decent?” You ask awkwardly, relief sinking into your muscles as you adjust to your familiar robes. 

“Yeah.” Regulus replies back, his cadence indicating that he had already put his mask back into place. 

You turn around and step toward the two limp bodies between you both, placing the formal wear down beside their feet just as Regulus slowly spins on his heel. “I can do it.” His soft mutter has you agreeing easily, opting to instead move away to place the retrieved file into your bag. Just as you close the opening of the bag, Regulus’ wordless Rennervate has the body beside your feet twitching before you see his eyes slowly peel open, eyebrows furrowing from the light. Before he has the opportunity to regain awareness, you watch as Regulus raises his wand again. 

“Imperio,” He firmly commands, one hand tucked away inside his robe pocket, as if his actions were the most casual thing in the world. The man’s eyes glaze over immediately before a milky fog stirs across his iris and pupils as he awaits Regulus’ commands. “Get dressed, head back inside using the back door, and grab yourself a couple of drinks.” 

Like a doll being maneuvered by strings, the man silently complies with stiff movements and unwavering precision in his task. Regulus barely bats an eye before repeating the same process with the second victim, watching as they both slowly rise up and walk out of the small clearing and toward the door you both exited from. 

“One file down, two more to go.” You huff out with a tired smile, fiddling with the chain of the time turner. 

Regulus nods quietly and strides toward you, throwing the chain around him before releasing a patient hum as you continue to turn the handle of the device. Lifting your fingers away, the rings of the artifact begin to spin sporadically and you feel the ground beneath your feet rumble faintly. 

Your eyes squeeze shut as the spinning of time rapidly picks up speed, melding together days and nights and weeks to years. After a flurry of arbitrary thoughts to busy yourself, you feel Regulus’ gloved hand fall against your shoulder, “We’re here.” 

Nodding, you slowly open your eyes and roll your shoulders back. “Thank you.” 

The forest remained as lively as ever, the only decipherable change to your environment being the position of the sun in the sky. Tucking away the time turner, you turn your gaze to Regulus’ masked one as he offers up his arm again. 

“Do you think Gawdry will tell us why the files are so valuable?” You ask, looping your arm with his. 

“Not a chance.” Regulus muses, his words followed by the swift pull of apparition. 

Wind bats against your ears for a few moments before you feel smooth tile press against your feet, spurring you to fall back into reality. Blinking, you step back and survey the area Regulus brought you both to: a dim alcove in the Ministry atrium. The walk to the Department of Mysteries was a far one, but you both would be able to hug against the shadows nearby to avoid wandering eyes until you reach the elevator. 

“How do you navigate around the Ministry without being seen?” You hum out curiously, treading by the tall brick pillars. 

Regulus seems to slow his steps to match yours as he tugs his hood down further once your passage conjoins into the main chamber of the Ministry. “I don’t. Not usually, anyway. My assignments are delivered to my place of residence.” 

“Aside from work, you don’t get out much, do you?” You huff out in both consolation and worry. “We’ll have to change that.” You mutter under your breath, feeling Regulus’ eyes dart to your face. 

The buzzing of chatter and clicking of shoes against the polished floor grows in tandem with the illumination of your surroundings, thrusting you and Regulus into the milling clusters of Ministry workers. 

“Might want to keep your head down.” You sigh out, holding your elbow out once you are both near the elevators. 

Regulus wordlessly grabs onto your sleeve and drops his head, allowing his hood to fall over and veil the glow of his mask. You lead him to stand in line, keeping an eye out for any suspicious looks or double takes. 

By the time you both manage to clamber inside one of the lifts, you can feel the remnants of adrenaline in your body dissipate, leaving you feeling boneless in the cramped box. Regulus shuffles behind you, slotting himself into one of the back corners as an older man turns to you. 

“What floor?�� He asks pleasantly, eyes never straying to look at your cloaked companion. 

“Ninth, please.” You nod at him, shooting a small smile in thanks. 

He simply nods back before punching the milky button just as the golden grille door slides across the aperture. A peaceful lull ensues as the lift jostles slowly from floor to floor, the faint creaking of the grille and the melodic announcement of each floor number occasionally flowing into the air. 

When the lift begins to ascend past the eighth floor, only you, Regulus, and the man at the button panel remain inside. You shift your weight from foot-to-foot as you can sense the man’s growing anticipation. The jangling of chains shoves itself into the peripheral of your mind as he finally turns to face you, a cryptic gleam casting over his eyes. 

You’re able to get a good look at him now that he’s fully facing you, eyes running across his worn expression and grey-streaked combover that evidently used to be tinted a deep tawny.

“Apologies for my frankness, but do you happen to be Auror L/N?” He asks, head tilting imperceptibly as your eyes widen at the unexpected question. 

Nodding slowly, you plaster on an uncertain smile. “Yes, I am. I don’t believe we’ve met before though?” 

“Ah, how rude of me, I am Lord Grey.” He clears his throat, just as the lift halts in its movements. “I just wanted to introduce myself to such an esteemed Auror. I’ve heard such high praises about your ability to find things.” 

You incline your head toward him and release a sheepish chortle, “That’s me. Just a little penchant for tracking is all… Well it’s nice to meet you, Lord Grey.” 

The grille doors are wrought aside not a moment later, and you turn to gesture for Regulus to exit first, much to his confusion. Just as Regulus steps out of the elevator, Lord Grey leans towards you and shoots you an indecipherable grin, “You are also renowned for your…  impartiality, Auror L/N, no?” 

“Yes?” You confirm lightly, masking your disconcertion with the sudden eerie atmosphere. Lord Grey simply nods before he slides something toward you, and one glance downward has you realizing it is a business card. 

“I hope you give it some thought.” He mutters equivocally. 

Raising an eyebrow, you take the card and slide it into your pocket before shuffling away. “Good day, Lord Grey.”

“Yes, good day.” 

The odd exchange imprints itself into your mind as Regulus shoots you a questioning look once you reach him. His eyes slowly move from you and over your shoulder, gaze narrowing and causing you to peek back around. You aren’t able to catch another glimpse of the man, but the lift continues to descend until the echo of chains fades away. 

“Are you okay?” Regulus asks once you trudge over to his side. 

You nod and fiddle with the card in your pocket before making up your mind. “Yeah, he just handed me this all ominously.” Regulus eyes you as you slip the card out of your pocket, remaining soundless as you bring the thick rectangle between you both. 

Your eyebrows slant further down as you realize that the card is blank save for a black emblem at the center. The symbol sends a shiver down your spine as you continue to stare at it; a thick black line curves uniformly into a soft, open triangle, the proud snake head at its end seeming to jitter against the ivory paper. 

“Bloody hell.” You murmur dryly, “Not creepy at all.”

Regulus looks just as confused as you feel, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to hide the mounting tension in your posture. 

“Let’s keep this between us for now.” Regulus mutters, straightening up to turn away, but even as he moves forward, you can still identify the calculative glint in his eyes. 

Tucking the card away again, you readjust your hold on the woven bag on your shoulder as you both pace through the looping corridors. You aren’t even aware of your proximity to your destination until you’re nearly pedaling into Regulus’ back as he waits for the imposing doors to flutter open. 

Gawdry’s office is a welcomed sight, the nebulous glow from the light beams enveloping your fatigued figure. The dour expression across his face lifts slightly once he takes in your approaching figures, eyes immediately connecting with yours as he gazes at you with heavy expectation.  

“Agents, what a surprise.” He grumbles out, leaning back against his chair as you both stop a few feet short of his desk. 

“Save the confetti and cake for later,” you hum out, beginning to dig in your bag. 

Gawdry remains unfazed as his attentive eyes lock on your movements. “If you wish,” his drawl is accompanied by a wry smile as you wrestle the thick purple tome out of your bag. Handing the sturdy object to the man, you suppress the chill that storms through your body as you feel the densely packed magic ingrained in the file.

“By the way, a warning would have been nice. A patrimony ball of that degree was hardly an ideal event to blindly jump into.” Your tone is light despite the visceral feeling of doom that still crawled around the cavity of your chest. 

“You’re both here in one piece, aren’t you?” Gawdry raises an eyebrow, bringing a hand up to wave you both off, “Nicely done, though. It seems that I chose wisely.” 

You hum out in agreement before you glance at Regulus’ indifferent gaze and nod your head toward the doors. “Right. Well we’ll be back tomorrow, boss.” 

Without waiting for a response from the preoccupied man, you and Regulus spin on your heels and retrace your steps toward the exit. As your badge’s magic tediously weaves through the locks of the doors, you bring your palm up to rest on your chest, feeling the imprint of the time turner jump against your skin. 

“Ten hours to cool down, I think.” 

Regulus glances at you and shoves his hands into his pant pockets. “Sounds good.” 

“Yeah.” You nod in agreement before releasing a small breath of exhaustion, “Right, well, see you later.” Your shoes beat against the tiles as you begin to make your way down the hallway. 

“What?” You slowly turn around at Regulus’ voice, watching as he blinks at you through his mask, eyes blank with blatant confusion. 

“Oh, well ten hours of downtime…” You trail off, hands awkwardly gesturing to your right.  

Regulus blinks at you before humming, “Yeah.” 

You clear your throat as you feel a flush of heat bloom across the blades of your shoulders. “Uh, but… Actually, I’ll go with you. It’ll be quicker that way, anyway. Y’know to get moving onto the next assignment.” 

“Yeah.” Regulus agrees plainly, eyes darting away as you shuffle back over to him. 

Somehow in the whirlwind of your lethargy and incessant thoughts, you and Regulus manage to make it back to the elevator and down toward the floo networks in record breaking speed. You tilt your head as Regulus juts out his elbow for you to take, and you wordlessly comply as he leads you to the farthest network all whilst keeping his head down. Once you both step into the wide space of the network, Regulus grabs a handful of floo powder before throwing it onto the ashy ground. “Abscondita terra.” His voice rumbles out lowly and the clear words spur green flames across your vision. 

When the lurid fire flees into nothingness, you’re left standing in front of a dim living room. Regulus shifts out of the network first and offers you an assessing look before gesturing for you to sit on the grey couch. You barely contain the gape threatening to materialize on your face as you swallow harshly, “Is this place yours?” 

The man merely nods and watches as you teeter toward the plush cushions, dropping down stiffly onto the firm seat. You clear your throat and look to Regulus as he moves to lean on the doorway to your left. “Thank you for bringing me here.” 

He bats his hand in a show of casualness before cracking his neck. “You can only come here if I allow it, so.” 

“Right, witness protection and whatnot.” You say quietly, clasping your hands in your lap. 

Regulus nods jerkily and gazes at you for a moment before speaking up again, “You could have died earlier. With Mulciber’s attack.” He mutters, eyes sliding to look at your shoulder. 

You hum and hug one of his throw pillows to your chest, “I dodged in time. Luckily, he didn’t hurl the killing curse at me.” 

“Because he wanted you to die a slow, agonizing death in front of me.” He quickly retorts, clearing his throat as he kicks off from the doorway. “That spell would have severed through half of your neck.” 

A shiver blooms from the base of your spine as you envision the gory picture. “Ah… Well, that’s the risk of the job.” 

Regulus keeps his eyes on you for a few more seconds before he sighs and disappears somewhere off into the kitchen, momentarily leaving you to your devices. You hear distant clanking and the sound of cabinet doors being shut, lulling you to reminisce on the day’s events. 

He soon reemerges into the room with a glass of water, blinking sluggishly as he approaches you. Somehow, seeing him in his tired state eases the awkwardness in the air and you slouch back to get comfortable. 

“But are you okay?” You couldn’t help but prod, still remembering his tense demeanor during Clyde’s toast. 

“Yeah,” Regulus hums, gently placing the cup of water in front of you. He sits down on the opposite side of the couch as you quietly thank him, and you nearly break your neck when you see him slowly push his cloak off. 

Turning away with wide eyes, you swallow harshly before trying to distract yourself by breaking the silence. “So, Clyde’s toast was a bit…”

“Creepy?” Regulus supplies, tone lilted with amusement.

You shake your head and lean over to grab the cup, “Yeah, I thought I’d accidentally joined a cult.” Bringing the rim of the glass to your lips, you chance a side glance to your companion and see the glow of flesh in the dimming room, a stark contrast to the perpetual veil of black that always covered his skin. 

Sipping your water, you relax against the cushions behind you as Regulus clears his throat and shifts in his seat. “You remember my father, right?” His voice is level, growing serious as he departs from his previous amusement. 

You nod, it was unlikely you’d ever forget the stern man—and then realization dawns on you. “The man who stepped out during the toast… that was Orion?” 

“In the flesh.” Regulus says, cracking his knuckles as he leans his elbows on his knees. 

Frowning, you place your half-empty glass down on the table as you debate over what approach to take in the conversation. “I’m glad you got out.” You admit honestly, unable to suppress the images of twelve-year-old Regulus’ mischievous smiles and twinkling eyes from your mind. 

“Me too.” Regulus breathes out, “Only killed him in the process.” 

Your eyebrows furrow at his words and you lean back, turning to him and gesticulating slowly  with your hands, “Like, run out the door and throw an expulso behind you—kill, or…” 

Regulus’ shoulders shake as he muffles a laugh, and your eyes are immediately drawn to the toned muscles of his arms, webby veins trailing down from his forearm to his hands. Your mouth parts slightly at the sight, but you quickly dart your gaze back up, grateful that Regulus was still looking straight ahead and not toward your gawking face. 

However, it seemed that you couldn’t catch a break. 

As your eyes stray from his arms, they catch themselves on the raven tresses which were slightly disheveled from his hood. The flowing waves fall a bit past his ears, not unlike how he maintained it when you were both younger. 

Before you can fall into a mental tangent about the sight in front of you, Regulus’ head turns to you, eyes practically glowing behind his mask. “Not quite as exciting, I’m afraid. When he got the news that I helped Dumbledore take down the Dark Lord, his heart stopped on the spot.” Regulus breathes out harshly and pushes a hand through his hair, “At least that’s what I was told.” 

“Merlin.” You mutter, fully turning to Regulus now. Bringing one leg up onto the couch, you tilt your head as you and Regulus maintain eye contact, “Are you alright, though?” 

Regulus nods slowly and mirrors you by sitting up and tilting his body toward you. “I made peace with it. Seems he couldn’t handle two rebellious heirs.” 

“Inbreeding tends to promise a life with faulty organs.” You say offhandedly, only freezing when Regulus’ eyes light up in humor. Backtracking, you let out a small laugh, “Uh, no offense.” 

“You’re not wrong.” Regulus admits, throwing an arm across the back cushions. 

You flash a small smile as you lay your head against the pillowy surface, eyes falling to the single cushion of distance between you both. “Do you ever miss Hogwarts?” 

Regulus’ eyes close for a few moments before he opens them again and you’re greeted with a faraway look. “Sometimes. You?” He hums out, fingers aimlessly drawing patterns against the cushion. 

“Sometimes,” you intone quietly. “I miss all the Quidditch games and even the late hours in the library. Helga, studying for our N.E.W.T’s was so taxing.”

Regulus nods and blinks slowly, his silence prompting you to continue. “Anyway, I’m glad our paths crossed again.” Your words are firm with genuinity, but you can’t ignore the flutter of bashfulness that pulses through your veins at the admission. 

“I always thought you were going to be a Curse Breaker.” Regulus whispers, dropping his head back onto the couch cushion to rest. 

You muffle a yawn as you peer at the man in inquiry. “Maybe at first. How’d you know that?” 

Regulus fixes you with a light look, and you feel your breath leave your lungs as he pins you down with a warm gaze—one you haven’t seen in years. “It was hard not to be intrigued by someone who watched me from a distance so diligently.”

Your words get caught in your throat as you blink owlishly in surprise. “And now? Are you still intrigued by me?” You breathe out with searching eyes. 

Regulus holds your gaze before quietly replying, voice barely a whisper: “Even more so now.”

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