#sirius black word weaving

[soulfullives]

— Antigone, Sophocles / Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov / Famous Blue Raincoat, Leonard Cohen / José Saramago / Clive Barker, The Hellbound Heart

[sunnami]

❝we can't be friends (wait for your love.)❞

[credits to @artofpan for the lovely art! title is taken from ariana grande's song, we can't be friends.]

summary. fortune favours the bold, so they say. but you're an awkward ravenclaw in yearning.

pairing/s. poly!marauders x reader (james potter x reader, lily evans x reader, remus lupin x reader, and sirius black x reader.)

word count. 11.4k

tags. childhood friends to ex-friends to lovers, fluff, minor angst, happy ending, not proofread we die like remus and tonks, also a bit of spice ;3

note. asdhjf while im working on the last part of the time traveller au pls enjoy this fluffy piecee ueueue

‘TIS THE SEASON OF raucous jeering and gaudy paraphernalia in the corridors, the unmistakable scent of overly-polished brooms, mud trekking through the cobblestone floors, and jerseys soaked in sweat, rain, and grime after hours of vigorous training. The dreaded second week of school where arrogant fledglings end up in the infirmary on account of broken noses, dislocated shoulders, or sprained wrists.

In other words: Quidditch tryouts. 

You’re just not fond of the havoc wreaked in every corner and alcove of the castle. But to your relief, the library remains untouched through it all. 

Needless to say, you absolutely hate Quidditch. 

It is a fact you simply will not elaborate on. The skies are blue, the grass blades are green; you and the Marauders are as different as night and day. 

On your way to the library, the last bastion of academia, you weave past the crowd in the courtyard corridor, ears ringing from the shouting match earlier in the Great Hall for breakfast—something about the Cannons versus the Magpies. There’s a pile of books shoved inside your leather satchel, painfully bumping into your hip with each step you take. You traverse through the Romanesque architecture, blissfully unaware of the misfortune to come. 

“If I study for Charms now, I can take a nap for the rest of the day,” You say to yourself, pensively tapping at your chin. 

“Watch out!” 

You barely have any time to react before a Quaffle comes crashing straight into your face. 

“Merlin’s hairy arsehole—fuck!” There’s a sicky sound of bones cracking, a dizzying flash of white before your eyes, and something viscous trickling from your nose down to your lips. Your hands fly to your face—instantly flinching when you catch a glimpse of your fingers dipped in blood. Your eyes grow wide in panic, chest rapidly heaving—it’s only now that you realize that you’re sitting on the ground, textbooks laying haphazardly around you, shoulders quivering from the adrenaline. The crowd’s concerned murmurs are lost in the cacophony of hysteria. 

“Move!” 

To your rescue, is Alice Fortescue, a fellow prefect. She cuts through the onlookers of petrified first-years and nosey fifth-years. You have no doubt this incident will grace the school’s gossip column for the next few days. She grabs your arm and wraps it around her shoulder with ease. You’d write poetry of her gallant display, but you were too busy moaning in agony. She utters a few incantations to stop your nosebleed from worsening, though there’s not much she can do to help with the possible concussion. 

“Did you know Bludgers used to be called blooders?” You mumble languidly, nearly crashing into one of the knight statues. 

“I do now,” replies Alice, tightening her hold on your waist, the ghost of a fond smile on her face. (She’s missed you, actually—three and a half years of radio silence. There used to be a time where running into you in the Gryffindor common rooms was an everyday occurrence. Even the Ravenclaw prefects knew where to look first if they wanted to find you.)

After what feels like an eternity of trudging through the castle, you finally reach the infirmary. The matron, Poppy Pomfrey, shrieks in alarm at the sight of your soiled blouse and blood stained lips. She gently ushers you into her hold, guiding you to a vacant bed. Alice hangs back, awkwardly shuffling her feet, gaze worriedly trained on you. 

“You may return to your classes, Miss Fortescue, thank you,” says Madam Pomfrey, tipping your head upwards and grimacing.  “Oh, good heavens, what happened?” 

Your head droops in her palms, blood trickling from the corner of your mouth—you must have bit your tongue earlier. You blubber pathetically, “Got hit by a stray quaffle.” 

Wordlessly, Madam Pomfrey summons a vial from her stash in the cupboards. She hands the small bottle to you, uttering various healing spells under her breath with a deft expertise of someone who’s been doing this for years upon years now. “There,” says Madam Pomfrey, lips firmly pursed. “That should help with the fractured cheekbones.”

With—what?

As your eyes bulge out of your head, Madam Pomfrey looks over you once more, a floating quill at her side hastily scribbling on a parchment. “Concussion, mild blood loss, fracture in the cheekbones, broken nose cartilage.” She illuminates the tip of her wand, and moves it left and right in front of you. “Hmm. Any nausea at all, dear?”

“There’s a six point four chance I’m going to get amnesia,” You whisper solemnly, head hanging low as your voice cracks from the unbearable pain. “I don’t want to get amnesia.”

“There’s no need for you to worry about that while you’re under my care.” Madam Pomfrey gently nudges you to lay on the pillow. She hands you a folded blanket. “Rest now. We’ll keep you here until the morning in case your condition worsens.”

“I can’t.” You groan, sitting upright—Madam Pomfrey pushes you back onto the bed with a stern glare. “I’ve got to study.”

“And I’ve got three other students to tend to. Mister Lockhart has been dealing with food poisoning all week.” Madam Pomfrey places her hands on her hips, sighing sharply. She jerks her thumb behind her back—that’s when you notice that three certain people are staring back at you. Sirius Black and James Potter squeezing together in one chair—and miserably failing—and Remus Lupin, resting cozily on the infirmary bed with bandages around his arms and head. “And don’t even get me started on this one.”

“You love him, Poppy, don’t lie.” Sirius grins wolfishly at the matron. You make out the sunken bags underneath his gray eyes, pale lips and his unkempt heap of dark curls. 

Pomfrey huffs exasperatedly. “It would be easier to wrangle a hoard of Hippogriffs than to keep you three out of the infirmary past visiting hours.” She spares you one last glance, nodding when she deems you safe and healthy—as can be, anyway. Gilderoy Lockhart rolls out of his bed, his cries echoing around the room, threatening to barf up his entire breakfast, and Madam Pomfrey is gone in an instant. 

There is an awkward silence that envelops your side of the room—you roll over on your left, desperately ignoring the three of stares burning intensely into your back. 

THE STORY GOES like this: 

You know their names more than you know your own. Each morning finds them at the Ravenclaw common room’s doorstep—while waiting, Lily, Sirius and Remus try to figure out the password as James attempts to brute force his way in. (He had actually figured out the riddle minutes ago, James would just rather play along with his friends.) The blue-tied prefects watch endearingly as one of their first-years rush out of the tower, squealing deafeningly, and jumps right into the lion cubs’ embrace. (It’s not that Inter-House friendships are rare, it’s more common than one would think; usually, it just takes more time for the eaglets to break out of their shell.) 

“I got a hundred and twelve!” You exclaim merrily, hair in disarray and eyes puffy from having just woken up. Lily grabs your hands; together, the both of you jump up and down, excitedly giggling in celebration of the success of your History of Magic essay. (You had ignored them for a day to focus on your homework—Sirius did not like that at all. It wasn’t as fun to play if one of their friends were missing. Gone off to study, of all things.) 

The tale of your friendship may be an unsolved mystery to some, but to you, it’s like finding jigsaw pieces that perfectly fit together. Magic isn’t only centaurs in forbidden forests, or ceilings bewitched to look like the night sky—sometimes it’s stumbling into a random train compartment and shyly offering your bag of assorted treats. Next thing you know, Lily Evans and Marlene McKinnon are constantly with you in the library, oohing and aahing over pages of the fantasy novels Lily had brought from the muggle world. 

There’s rarely a day where you aren’t spotted in a sea of red and gold. Except when you’ve studied yourself sick—and the Marauders are never fond of that. 

(“I’m sorry, she can’t come down today,” says one of the fifth-year prefects, Lalita Burman, a rather tall girl with intricate curls, brown skin, and eyes that stare into one’s soul. She wakes up to banging on the tower entrance, not even eight o’clock in the morning yet—on a Saturday. It doesn’t come off as a surprise anymore when she opens the door to five red-faced children. “She’s come down with the flu. Most of the firsties have, actually. Madam Pomfrey says they’ll get better by tomorrow but Alex and I have been running ourselves ragged looking after them.” 

James Potter narrows his eyes at her. “Okay. Then we’ll go inside.” 

“Maybe we can help,” says Remus. 

Lalita holds up her hand to stop them from barging in. “That’s really sweet, but we can’t risk any of you getting sick as well.” 

Sirius stands on his toes to spy past Lalita’s shoulder, frowning when he finds nothing of importance—or really, when he can’t find you. He couldn’t wait to call you stupid for getting yourself sick—you just missed out on frog hunting. “That’s alright.” He huffs, shoulders slumping dejectedly. “Our immune system can take it. Will you let us in now?” 

Her eye twitches. “Come back tomorrow.” 

With that, she slams the door in their faces. 

The Marauders then declare you are never, ever allowed to get sick again.) 

Your second year in the castle creeps up on you without you noticing. 

“Remus Lupin, I am going to kill you!” 

No one bats an eyelash when you stalk up to the Gryffindor table, twelve years old and on a mission, fresh from the summer holidays. You slam your hands down onto the table, eyes ablaze as Remus stares at you, head resting on his palms, shaggy blond hair falling over his brows—no thoughts, head empty, just sheer adoration. 

“Hello there, stranger,” Remus says, grinning fiendishly. “You look rather lovely—did you have a good holiday?” 

You scoff, pointing an accusatory finger at him—Peter watches at the scene with wide eyes, slowly chomping on his shepherd’s pie, not an inkling as to what was going on. “Don’t try me, Lupin!” You exclaim sternly. “That book you gave me—you said it would have a happy ending! Tell me why I stayed up until bloody five o’clock in the morning crying me eyes out! You. . . you—!” 

“Wanker, dingbat, berk, git,” Lily supplies helpfully with an innocent smile, pulling you down to sit with her. “And my personal favorite—toerag.” 

You gape at the pretty redhead, jaw falling to the floor. “How do you even know these words?” 

She hums nonchalantly, spreading blueberry jam onto her buttered toast. “A lady must arm herself with the necessary ammunition.” Lily points to a certain pair of boys—James and Sirius are currently engaged in an eating contest, shoveling pancakes after pancakes inside their mouths; so far it looks like Sirius is winning. Lily sighs dramatically, rolling her eyes, “Especially if she wants to survive that kind of company.”  

“Him, even more,” says Lily, gesturing to Remus. “He may be Professor McGonagall’s golden boy but I see right through him.” 

“What can I say?” Remus smirks, helplessly shrugging his shoulders. “I’m a monster.” 

Lily glares at him. 

Then, you turn thirteen—the dreaded age. Suddenly, you’re dealing with oily skin, acne, body odor, hair growing out of places you didn’t even know could grow hair, hormones messing up the way you look at everyone else—something awakens in you the day you see Dorcas Meadowes in the Quidditch pitch wearing a black sleeveless turtleneck—and hormones messing up the way you look at yourself. 

Everything is starting to change. 

You usually never blink twice when James wraps his arms around your waist, laying his head on your shoulder. Except this time, he’s gone from a gangly bean sprout, to a heartthrob with perfectly messy hair, newly defined muscles from his countless hours of Quidditch training, charming smile, eyes that one could get lost into for hours, and a tantalizing scent of mint and bergamot. 

“Are you really not going to our game this Saturday?” James whispers in your ear—the five of you had been hanging out in the library. 

You sigh. “Can‘t. Sorry.” 

“Scared your House is going to lose to us, pet?” Sirius teases from where he’s sitting backwards on the chair next to you, engrossed in twirling locks of your hair around his finger. 

You bristle at the nickname—they have been brazen with the endearments lately, you’ve noticed. “It’s not like we’re going to win anyway,” You mumble, tapping your quill on the empty parchment—there’s never any work done while they’re around. “There’s only a sixteen point seven percent chance of Ravenclaw winning against Gryffindor.”

James wrinkles his nose, now sitting on the edge of the table. “Percent, shmercent. What matters is how everyone plays that day.” 

He kicks his legs against yours, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “So, will you come watch?” 

“We have that History of Magic project, remember,” You say defeatedly. “I need to get started on it this week otherwise I’ll be behind all the electives I signed up for this year.” 

Lily frowns, looking up from her own homework to glance at you in concern. “How many did you even pick?” 

“All of them.” 

“What?” Lily screeches in terror, suddenly rising from her seat to lean over the table. “How is that even possible? How did McGonagall even allow that?” 

“Professor Flitwick,” You correct, wincing when Lily and Sirius glare at you. “It took a lot of convincing, but eventually I wore him down. All I had to do was rework some of my class schedules and promise him over a thousand times that my wellbeing wouldn’t ever be compromised by my studies. Otherwise he’d take back his decision.” 

Remus doesn’t seem all too happy. “No wonder we don’t see you at Transfiguration anymore.” 

“Or in Kettleburn’s class,” Peter pipes in. 

“Are you sure it’s okay for you to be taking that many classes at once?” Remus grimaces, sharing a worried look with James. “The limit is three, and even that is too much to handle.” 

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” 

(Peter knows a lie when he hears one.) 

James tenses up, jaw tightening. “So you’re saying you’re going to miss a game because of school? Like all the other times? That’s bullcrap!” 

Remus hisses his name in warning. 

Tears prick your eyes instantly—you’ve heard him speak like this when quarreling with Slytherins, but never to your face. “That bullcrap means a lot to me, Potter. You’d understand that if you took your studies seriously more than just going around and playing silly pranks on everyone!” 

James scoffs. “Like how you take us seriously? Did you know that Lily is the youngest ever to be invited to Slughorn’s club? Yeah, she got the invitation last week. Did you congratulate her for that when she was staying up late with you to revise for your practical test in Herbology?” 

“I—” You stammer, guilt pooling in your stomach. 

“No, you didn’t.” James sneers. “You only see yourself. Do you know what Remus has been going through? Do you even care?” 

“That’s enough, James,” Lily says vehemently. 

“Well, if you think like that, maybe we all should just stop being friends!” You retort.

Before anyone else can reply, Madam Pince comes around the corner, and everyone falls silent—a tense atmosphere that threatens to choke you. With a heavy heart, you gather your belongings and run out of the library. 

The months pass by, and Frank Longbottom wonders why he doesn’t wake up at midnight anymore to find five students having a sleepover in the common room with a certain eagle, each of them trying to contain their giggles and  failing. (One time, the Prewett twins had run down the stairs in panic, only to find you and Peter screaming from Remus’s theatrics in telling his ghost stories during an awful thunderstorm.) You no longer visit the Gryffindor table at breakfast, and they no longer wait for you after your classes. 

“It’s probably just a tiff,” says Alice to Mary Macdonald. “They’ll make up—they always do.”  

Mary nods, though unsure—while Peter is gut-wrenched about it all, the other four in particular seem like heartbroken puppies when you enter the Great Hall and barely acknowledge their presence. 

The snow melts and time catches everyone unaware.

“I can’t believe I’m going to graduate and you idiots haven’t made up yet,” Lalita sighs as she pulls you in for a hug. In a few weeks, she and the other seventh-years are due to leave; you’ve grown real close with her over the past few terms. Her departure is going to be truly difficult for you to handle. “Just talk it out with them, okay?” 

You sniffle, holding onto her robes. “I’m trying, but they’ve been ignoring me, too.” 

Lalita squeezes you tighter. “Don’t worry. These kinds of things have a way of sorting themselves out.” 

At the end of the term, you present your final project to Professor Binns. The ghost nearly returns to life. It was a research study on the Evolutionary Analysis of Magical RNA Manipulation in the Catalonian Fireball. Days after your paper is published, you’re featured on the Daily Prophet; dragon tamers and professors from Spain are owling you letters of praise and congratulations. It goes without saying that such a feat had naturally catapulted Ravenclaw to the top, ultimately winning the House Cup. 

(But what you don’t tell everyone is that you’re so severely burnt out after that—to the point where you didn’t want to ever pick up a textbook again. For the first time in forever, learning had become a chore, not a passion. You’d been puking out of anxiety, hands trembling as you forced yourself to write on the parchment, the sides of your fingers constantly swollen and raw. You’d study until four o’clock in the morning, and wake up an hour later to complete all of your homework. You’ve begun to masquerade as the ghosts of Ravenclaw Tower; lifeless and indifferent. Xenophilius and Pandora fuss over you, but you just lock yourself in your room and say: “I’m tired.”

Perhaps, it is why Professor Flitwick isn’t surprised when you withdraw from most of your electives. 

“The pursuit of knowledge is a rewarding journey,” says Professor Flitwick on the day you visit his classroom—hours away from needing to be on the train platform. He sighs and sets his spectacles on the table. “But it is a perilous one, too. I trust that you have understood the consequences of your actions. As a teacher, I can only offer guidance when it is needed. The other professors may disagree, but I find the best learning method to be, what is it the kids say—fuck around and find out.” 

You snort. 

Professor Flitwick chuckles, quite pleased with himself. “If I may be so bold as to leave you with another piece of homework, I would like to ask you to truly enjoy the holidays. I hear the summer is a time for discovering new things about oneself, for new beginnings and growth. After all, learning does not happen only within the castle grounds.”) 

Later that day, you board the express, purposefully choosing the farthest compartment where you know they’ll be staying in. You share the cabin with two people whose names are Regulus and Narcissa Black—this is the first time you’ve ever met them. Narcissa shares her green tea flavored candy with you.  Afterwards, you spend the rest of the ride back to King’s Cross asleep. 

(Right before the train arrives, Remus is nervously searching for you in the crowd of people. 

“We’ve got to say goodbye, at least.” Lily nibbles on her lower lip uneasily. She once joked that she could find you anywhere—as if you two had a red string tied around both your pinky fingers. Now, it seems you’re too far away for her voice to reach you. 

James drops his head down in shame. “I never got the chance to apologize.” 

“She’ll appear somewhere,” says Sirius unwaveringly with a nod, taking Lily’s heavy suitcase from her as steam whistles are heard in the distance. “She could be in our special compartment, waiting for us right now.” 

“Are you sure?” Peter questions dubiously. 

“Of course I am, she’s my best friend,” Sirius counters resolutely. “She’s there, I can feel it.”)

You’re fourteen when you return back to the castle—you hadn’t touched a single book throughout the summer, but you find yourself well-rested; you learn how to swim from your mother; staying up all night to accompany your family dog as she gives birth to seven beautiful puppies, and scratching yourself on the bark of sycamore trees with your poor attempts at climbing.

You find out that you don’t like Arithmancy at all, strongly preferring Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures. You’ve also garnered a curiosity for Ornithomancy, the oracle reading of birds. 

This year, you signed up for the Gobstone club, despite your unfamiliarity with the game. It’s led by a Slytherin girl named Haerin Seong. (It’s properly read as Seong Hae-rin.) She has pin-straight hair, a sharp nose, and the mouth of a drunken sailor.

You also decide that you want to become a professor after Hogwarts. The groundskeeper, Rubeus Hagrid, belly laughs when you declare this to him one afternoon, right in the doorway of his hut. 

“Well, go on then!” Hagrid bellows, patting you on the head. “Anyone who tries ter stop yeh has got ter go through me!” 

On the dawn of your fifth-year, an owl delivers a prefect badge to your doorstep. Your father, born and raised as a Muggle, doesn’t understand the significance of this, but he cries harder than you on that Sunday morning. (“My child is a prefect!” He sobs into the telephone after dialing your aunt’s number.) 

The fresh batch of Ravenclaw firsties aren’t the only new additions to the castle. According to the gossip mill, James and Lily are finally dating, so are Sirius and Remus apparently. (Then, months later, everyone would be shrieking about how they’re all dating. )

You hear of the news as you guide the first-year eaglets to their next class. You’re climbing up the spiral staircase when you see the Quidditch pitch through the window. They look like flying ants from this distance. You can imagine the wind in their hair, the tense muscles as they chase after the Quaffles, the crowd roaring in their ears, victory within their reach if they just fly fast enough. 

You hate the way you envy them—how easily they soar up in the skies while you watch from below, much like a flightless eagle, shackled by your own shortcomings. 

You hate Quidditch.

It’s bound by no rules, unpredictable and barbaric. Most of all, it looks down on the cowardly. 

In your sixth year, you have your first kiss with a boy named Augustine Fenberry. It’s extremely short-lived and awkward. You date for three months until it’s unanimously agreed that you two are better off as friends—until you catch him laughing about you with his mates in an empty corridor, saying that you were clingy, too much, and needed to learn how to shut up. (You wonder if that’s why they grew tired of you, too.) 

You handle him with a quick, “Entomorphis.” 

It’s probably one of the more cruel jinxes; Augustine bawls piercingly as he grows antennas atop his head, the spell forcing him to get on his hands and knees; his friends hover around him in panic, but all Augustine can do is chirp like a grasshopper in the night. You wonder if you’ve gone too far, but Haerin tells you that’s exactly what Augustine is—vermin. 

You also, with great satisfaction, deduct thirty points from his House—which happens to be Ravenclaw. 

(Nobody knows this about Peter, but he’s nimble on his feet, a bit of a wallflower—and he is now the newest editor of Hogwarts’s newspaper column, The Golden Snidget. By the next day, everyone knows what he’s done. Argus Filch, who’s in charge of his month-long detention, should be the last of his worries. Peter sympathizes with the wizard—but only for a fraction of a second. Because it’s not even the werewolf Augustine has to be scared of, not the pureblood heir who could ruin anyone with just a lift of his finger; not the Quidditch prodigy with a sharp mind, knowing a thousand ways to seek revenge. 

It’s Lily Evans. 

“Go near her again and I’ll rip your balls off!” Marlene flips the bird to the group of cowering boys. “Matter of fact, if you treat anyone like that again, I will come for your bloodline.”

“Fucking toerag!” Lily wildly swings the Beater’s bat she had stolen from the Quidditch changing room. “If you even look at her, I’ll hunt you down and shove this up your arse—until you feel it in your throat!” 

Peter shivers in fear. He didn’t ever want to be on the receiving side of Lily’s wrath. 

“This is the same girl who cried for an hour when she saw the ducklings in the Great Lake separated from their mother,” says Remus, horrified. 

“Honestly, I feel so, so conflicted whether to find this terrifying. . . or attractive,” James whispers to Sirius.

“Attractive. Definitely attractive,” Sirius responds breathlessly, all eyes on Lily.)

Gryffindor wins the House Cup that year, to no one’s surprise. You find yourself clapping along with everyone else, but can’t help it when your gaze drifts to the left-side of the Gryffindor table. You watch as Sirius lifts Lily in the air, her giggles somehow louder than the thunderous cheering, pressing a loving kiss to her lips. James stands on the table, encouraging everyone to sing more of his praises—there’s a split second where his eyes find yours, you look away immediately—as Remus covers his face with his palms, flushed from all the attention. After James, Remus had won the most points for their House. 

They seem complete—a puzzle that never really needed another piece. (You miss them, heartachingly so.) Maybe it was for the best that all of you drifted further and further apart. You now forget the way they call your name.  

And so, the story ends just like that. 

YOU HAVE FOUND yourself in a very tricky position. 

It’s past midnight when you wake up—you nearly scream bloody murder when James, Lily and Sirius materialize out of thin air. They stare back at you, frozen in place, unblinking for the last twenty seconds. 

“Oh God, I’m hallucinating.” You cry to yourself, wrapping your arms around your waist. “I hit my head and now I’m seeing things.” 

“No, no, no, no,” James stammers, shaking his head. “It’s an invisibility cloak—see?” He wears the cape, then abruptly takes the cloak off—his body disappearing and reappearing in time with his actions. “Not hallucinating, I promise.” 

“That’s even worse,” You say hoarsely, on the verge of hyperventilating. “Y-You’re out past curfew—visiting hours are over. Someone could catch you. Madam Pomfrey will have your heads.” 

Remus chuckles—he had missed your voice so bloody much. He barely contains his grin when you glare at him. (Finally, after three years, you look his way again.) 

“We snuck in here to see you all the time,” Sirius tells you, the corner of his lips tipping into an overfond smile. “At some point, Poppy just stopped trying to keep us out.” 

“Yeah, I guess.” Your gaze falls to the floor as you mousily toy with your fingers. The infirmary falls painfully silent. Again. You clear your throat. “Anyway, I–I should get going.” 

“Oh.” Lily’s expression turns crestfallen, words cracking from the thick lump wedged in her throat. (This is the first conversation she’s had with you in years—one that isn’t awkwardly bumping into one another with shallow, hesitant greetings, before you scurry off like a timid squirrel.) “R-Right. But why don’t you have dinner first? We brought some from the feast and—” 

“Thanks, but I’m not hungry,” You rasp, slipping into your shoes and throwing your cardigan over your shoulders. (More than anything, you want to hug Lily and congratulate her for making Head Girl—but you have to wonder if it’s too little, too late; if the distance between you and her is too great to try and  cross.) 

You toss Remus a wary glance. There used to be a time where you could say anything to him, and now it feels like ice-cold hands are stapled over your mouth. “F–Feel better soon.” 

“Thanks.” Remus coughs. 

Sirius’s eyes bounce from you to Remus, mentally ripping his hair out from exasperation—this whole thing is going nowhere. 

You sprint out of the infirmary without a word, hands trembling from the nerve-wracking encounter inside. You take a moment to catch your breath, to shove your heart back inside your ribcage, as you lean sideways on the wall. It’s like running into a pack of wild chimeras in the mountains bare-handed. 

“That was so scary.” You breathe out deeply, clutching the front of your shirt tightly. 

The loud call of your name slices through the hallway and you jump in fright. 

Luckily, it’s just James—but just James sets your heart aflutter and your knees wobbly even after all this time. He bridges the gap between you in quick, long strides; murmuring your name once more like a prayer. “Hey,” James says quietly, as if afraid to spook you off. 

You gnaw on your bottom lip anxiously, tucking your hands inside your pockets. “Hey.”

“Listen, I just wanted to say—back in the library, all those years ago. I’m sorry. Really bloody sorry. Sirius decked me in the face that day, which I definitely deserved.” James nervously scratches the back of his head. “It was stupid of me—and I never should have said any of those things. I know it’s been years since then, you don’t even have to forgive me. But I just wanted you to know—”

“It’s fine, James.” You cut into his rambling, having already forgiven him for that day. “Really. Water under the bridge.” 

In fact, some of what he had said made you realize how much you isolated yourself without even knowing. “And, I—uhm.” You take a deep breath. “I’m sorry, too.” 

James widens his eyes, then instantly shakes his head. “It’s alright. You’re alright.”

A dark red blush spreads from his neck to his prettily carved cheeks.  “So. .  . uh. . . are we okay?” 

“We’re okay,” You say and he exhales deeply in relief. “And James, I. . . I. . .”

“Yeah?” There’s a hopeful lilt in his voice as he takes one more step towards you—achingly patient, but there’s a sense of urgency and desperation. 

“I—” You look away and the words fizzle out in your throat. “Never mind.” 

I just wanted to say I’m sorry for what I said that day. I miss you more than life. Thank you for staying by my side all those years—for being one of my best friends. You make me feel safe, James Potter. You are one of the most intelligent and caring wizards I know. How  anyone can think otherwise is baffling to me. I’m sorry if I don’t let you know that more often. 

“See you around, James.” With that, you turn and leave. 

Perhaps, some things are better left unsaid. 

(So why is your heart shattering into a million pieces?) 

“TODAY, WE ARE GOING TO be interpreting messages from the divine!” 

On a lovely Friday morning, Professor Nasenyana drags the class out to the grounds for a hands-on Divination lecture, the groundskeeper’s hut within sight. He unlocks the barn nearby, where flocks of various bird species take to the skies instantly. He’s a rather eccentric fellow with one of the friendliest smiles you’ve ever seen. Most of the Ravenclaws are also star-struck, hanging onto his every word. As it turns out, Nasenyana is a graduate from Uagadou, the top school for Astronomy and Divination.

“Ornithomancy—!” He proclaims, flashy cloak billowing, startling some of the Gryffindors from their sleep. “It is a form of divination that looks into the behavior of birds—celestial creatures blessed with the ability to traverse through the heavens and the earth. But, you see, it is more than that. It requires utmost concentration and mastery. To pass this class, you will need to—” 

“I told you we didn’t miss anything important!” 

“Pads, shut up.” 

Sirius and Remus come rolling down the hill. Remus’s robes are disheveled, whereas Sirius’s tie is loosely hanging around his shirt, sleeves folded up. They nearly crash into Professor Nasenyana—who doesn’t appear to be pleased with their tardiness. You notice Remus’s flushed cheeks, the sweat running down the sides of his forehead, and the pinkish bruises on the column of Sirius’s neck. 

Lily chortles. 

Oh. 

You blush deeply—that is so none of your business. 

“Mister Black! Mister Lupin! So nice of you to finally join us.” Professor Nasenyana exclaims. “I trust that it won’t take you thirty more minutes to find a place to sit?” He gestures to the assembly of students sitting down on the grass, some shielding the sunlight from their face with the Divination textbook, and others transfiguring their school robes into a picnic mat. “Take your seats, gentlemen.” 

“And that is five points from Gryffindor. Each.” Professor Nasenyana declares just as Remus and Sirius plop down on the closest patch of grass to them. 

Which happens to be right beside you. 

You pour all your attention on the teacher, and not how warm Sirius feels next to you. 

“As I was saying,” Professor Nasenyana continues, hands folded behind his back, eyes gleaming with anticipation. “In order to pass this class, you will form groups of three where your task is to read each other’s fortune based on the information presented to you and document your findings. Everything you need for interpretation is in your textbooks. You will hand this assignment in after the winter holidays. I expect excellence from each and every one of you. Failure to comply will result in a Dreadful.” 

Gilderoy’s arm shoots up in the air. 

“Shall I guess your question, Mister Lockhart?” Nasenyana grins blindingly. “Your groups will be determined by fate—those closest to you will read your fortune, and you theirs.” 

He lowers his arm with a bright blush. 

You, however, are frozen in place, sitting cross-legged on the ground with a robe strewn over your lap—you even hold your breath from the shock. Fate must be mocking you right now. Spending the next few weeks in close proximity with the boys who held your fragile, little heart in their hands.

How fun.

Not.

FOR THE FIRST TIME in forever, you don’t pay attention in Charms.

The thought of working with Remus and Sirius haunts you so much that you burrow your head in your arms for the entirety of Professor Flitwick’s lesson. Your seatmate, Xenophilius, watches in horror as you flub the enunciation for Ascendio. Thankfully, no one is accidentally flung into the air—except for Gilderoy who is unfortunately blown away from his chair.

“Sorry.” You twinge empathetically as he climbs back onto his chair, glaring at you. 

Xenophilius nudges your shoulder, whispering, “Are you alright?” 

“Perfectly fine,” You respond hurriedly, almost choking on your spit. “What ever gave you the idea that I was not fine? I’m bloody fantastic even. The sun is shining, fishes are swimming, and there’s not a single thing out of the ordinary in my life.” 

“It’s cloudy outside,” Xenophilius says impassively. “And Lockhart is looking at you like you’ve just attempted murder.” 

“Lockhart always looks like that.” You brush him off with a wave, busying yourself with flipping the pages of your Charms textbook. 

Xenophilius pokes you in the side. “You are avoiding the subject. Is it because of Lup—”

“Ascendio!” 

This time, it’s too perfect of an incantation that even Merlin weeps from his grave.

At the end of class, you’re greeted with yet another surprise. Just as you leave the classroom, you find Sirius and Remus standing in the corridor, so absorbed in conversation that they don’t notice the sixth-year girls giggling as they walk by—either that, or they have had plenty of practice when it comes to  ignoring attention from the entire student body. It’s not like you can blame everyone else—they’re a duo carved by heaven’s finest. 

Sirius realizes instantly when you walk out of the doors. He smiles blazingly at you, instantly rising to his feet, hands shoved inside the pockets of his trousers. You can’t believe this is the same boy who’d give you piggyback rides down the hallway. Dark layered curls tumble messily past his shoulders, a smidge of dark liner around his eyes, multiple piercings in his left ear. He’s grown taller, certainly more confident, too. 

“Ready to go, pet?” He asks, as if casually inquiring about the weather. 

“Go?” You echo, nonplussed. “Go where?” 

“Birdwatching, obviously.” Sirius grins devilishly before grabbing your hand and leading you to the courtyard, Remus hot on your heels—who, for some reason, now has your bag hanging from his shoulders. 

“D-Do I even get a say in this?” Truthfully, you had thought that you could finish the project without meeting up. Ever. You even think of collaborating with them via owl; staying far, far away from one another. So that none of you get hurt again, and you don’t risk another heartbreak. 

“Not one bit, darling.” Sirius looks back at you and winks—this cheeky bastard!

You’re in a daze by the time the three of you reach the middle courtyard. Sirius happily plonks down under a tree, further unbuttoning his shirt until a hint of a tattoo peeks out—you gape. Remus chuckles before urging you to sit as well, before he settles on your other side. 

“This is nice,” says Sirius as he leans his head against the tree trunk, eyes closed. “Bloody missed this.” 

“Missed what?” You dare to ask, heart hammering in your chest. 

He opens one eye, cheek dimple flashing. “Being by your side.” 

“Oh.” 

One does not respond to that, actually. One just simply passes out and fades away. 

And as you typically do when facing hardships in life, you ramble about homework. Clearing your throat and staring straight at the earthworms crawling out of the mud, you say, “So, about our project. . .” 

“I was thinking we could get started on it next Saturday,” You splutter, fiddling with your fingers. “Or I could start on everyone’s reading and we’d put it on paper sometime next month—but I could do that myself, too. I-If you wanted. Just so that it’s easier for everyone. We really don’t have to rush, honestly.” 

“Procrastinating on schoolwork?” Remus laughs heartily with a slow shake of his head, stretching his long legs on the ground. “Who are you and what have you done to our best fr—” 

The word falters on his tongue, and his smile fades into a somber line. 

To save everyone from the awkward tension, you carry on, ignoring the way Sirius stiffens, “If you want to start early, I can head to the library after lunch to find some books on Ornithomancy. The more references we have—”

“What happened to us?” Sirius interjects gravelly. 

You let out a deep sigh. 

You suppose this conversation has been a long time coming, given lions and their stubbornness. 

“It’s simple,” You say gingerly. “After that. . . that day, the distance kept growing and growing until we went our own separate ways without looking back.” 

A single teardrop slides down your cheek before you can stop it. “You changed. I changed, too. The difference was, you all had each other while I had no one.”

(Though Pandora and Xenophilius were the truest and most honest friends one could ask for, they didn’t hold your soul captive the way they did.) 

Sirius stares at you as if you had just spit acid; a thunderstorm forming within his gray eyes, his jaw locking painfully. 

“You don’t really believe that, do you?” Remus asks softly, leaning forward to offer you his handkerchief. His voice sounds strangled—as though your words physically torment him. He pulls away just as your gaze falls on his. 

“That’s what happened, though. But I suppose it doesn’t really even matter anymore.” You flinch away, electrocuted from his touch. 

There’s a stretched silence that blankets the three of you. It carries on for a few minutes, the breeze flowing by, and the slow, clamorous bell chiming in the distance. You’re about to speak up when Sirius breaks the quietude first.

“Be ready,” He says decidedly, looking straight ahead. 

“For what?” You ask in disbelief. 

Sirius drags a hand through his hair with a loud exhale. He rests his elbows on his knees, chin carelessly set on his palm, eyeing you intensely. “We’re going to prove you wrong from now on.” 

“What exactly are you going to prove?” 

Sirius chuckles, coiling a strand of your hair around his finger. “That it’s always been you and us for life, princess.” 

Merlin’s saggy balls. 

THE GRYFFINDOR TABLE descends into a coalescence of wide eyes and rapid, hushed whispers when you arrive sometime during dinner. It’s not out of your own volition, of course, but your own duty and responsibility as prefect to return the handkerchief that Remus had lent you earlier this afternoon. You hoped it would be a quick in-and-out; dishing out more forced smiles, and some half-baked banter until you could finally run away, tail tucked between your legs. Like most things in your life, it does not go the way you want. 

“You could keep it, if you want,” says Remus, hesitantly taking the embroidered cloth from you. 

If the world knew how many trinkets Remus Lupin had gifted you during your friendship, you would be swimming in gold—and cursed letters from his devoted fangirls. 

“That’s alright. Thank you.” You placate him with a crooked grin, the words spilling from your lips like a jumbled mess. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Gideon and Fabian Prewett nudging each other’s shoulders whilst pointing at you, keeping their heads low. You have no idea what that’s about. 

“Well. That is all. E-Enjoy your dinner.” You nod, mentally patting yourself on the back for not passing out in the den of lions. “Goodbye.” 

Though the Ravenclaw table is placed next to Gryffindor’s, you have the bright idea of sitting with your backs to them, lest you engage in a round of cloddish staring contests with the Marauders. Just as you pivot on your heels, ready to make it to Pandora’s side, an achingly familiar voice calls for your name. 

“Wait!” Marlene is partially out of her seat, bright blonde hair in a loose, messy braid; hand outstretched, as if reaching out to you. Her pale cheeks blossom with shades of scarlet as she receives miffed glares from the students nearby—such is the curse of a Gryffindor; if this were a fantasy novel, they would be the perfect protagonist. “Why don’t you eat with us? F-For old time’s sake. It’s been so long and I really would like to catch up with you.” 

Your resolve nearly crumbles. This is the same girl who would bring sweet candies in her pocket in case you got hungry during class. But, if this were a fantasy novel, you would only be an extra; fated to walk a path so different from the likes of James Potter and Lily Evans.

“Maybe next time,” You say, unconvincing to even your own ears. 

FROM ACROSS the Great Hall, another conversation is taking place. 

“I am telling you, Minerva, I caught them talking again in the infirmary,” says Poppy Pomfrey to her fellow teacher, a spry grin on her kind face. 

“Poppy, as I’ve told you, I do not make a habit out of discussing my students’ personal lives,” McGonagall replies tiredly, slicing into her dinner plate of steak and kidney pie. She pauses for a few moments, before pushing up her spectacles with a wrinkly smile. “But, perhaps, I’ll let this slide just this once. Tell me all about it. I’ve also heard that—” 

“ACTA NON VERBA.”

Deeds, not words. 

Truly a befitting password for the House of bravery and recklessness. The Fat Lady’s portrait gasps in delight, raising her champagne glass to you. Seconds later, the Gryffindor common room is revealed to you. (Most of the Ravenclaw prefects have the House passwords memorized, in case they encounter a lost student outside the dormitories who has forgotten the passcode. It happens more often than one would like. Although it isn’t just first-years who are often stuck outside. You’ve stumbled upon Frank Longbottom many times before in a heated argument with the Fat Lady.) 

“Oh!” Alice, bundled up in a red scarf and a wooly jumper, is startled to find you at the entrance. She breathily says your name, eyes crinkling as she smiles widely. “What a pleasant surprise! Oh my Gods—it’s so nice to see you again. How’s the head? Last time I saw you, you were bleeding everywhere.”

“I didn’t get amnesia. So that was good.” You head inside the room, instantly enveloped in a familiar warmth, a welcoming hug as if you had never strayed far. “Thank you. For that day, I mean. For bringing me to Madam Pomfrey.”

She waves you off. “Don’t mention it.” 

“But. . .” Alice cocks her head with a conniving smile. “Don’t tell anyone else this, but when James found out it had been the Gryffindor team’s co-captain who hit the Quaffle your way, I heard James put him through some intense training. He must’ve had to run a hundred laps around the pitch for a week straight.  Poor guy even had to wash everyone’s jerseys without magic.” 

“What?” You shriek. “But it was just an accident. Surely, James wouldn’t—”

Alice tweaks your nose with a chuckle. “Oh, for you? He would.”

You have the strangest urge to throw yourself out of the tower. 

You cough into your first, desperate to shift the conversation topic otherwise you’d spontaneously combust. “S-So, where’s Remus? We agreed to work on our Divination project here—if that’s alright with you and the others, of course.” 

“Ha!” Alice exclaims, palming her forehead. “So that’s why the tower stinks of flipping perfume.” She snickers at your bewildered expression, before engulfing you in a bear hug. “It’s so good to see you. You’re welcome here anytime, you know that.”

“Thank you, Alice.” You squeeze her back, giving yourself just this one time because you really did miss her.

Alice takes a step backwards before roaring loud enough to shake the ceiling. “Remus!”

“Get down here! Your girlfriend is waiting!”

You break out in a coughing fit. “I am not his girlfriend.” 

“Not yet.” Alice winks at you, patting your cheek before skipping out the common room. 

You hear the heavy footfalls of someone coming down the stairs. Moments later, you see Remus Lupin beaming at you, casually dressed, hair damp and tousled over his brows, broad shoulders stretching his white top, and fluffy, mismatched socks over his feet. He walks over to you in record speed. 

“You came,” He says huskily. 

“I did.” 

“You look beautiful today.” Remus grins wolfishly, dimples poking out of his cheeks, flecks of light in his hazel eyes. 

You blink owlishly, dumbfounded. You peer at your clothes—nothing fancy or experimental. “This is how I normally dress, though.” 

“I know.” 

Remus smiles, swiftly taking your bookbag from you. (Alice was right. He smells like a basket of green apples, old leather tomes, and sandalwood. Not that you mind.) You follow him to the couches by the fireplace. 

“Where’s Sirius?” You look around the common room as you sink into the red sofa. There’s a pair of third-years playing chess, a young girl feathering her hand across the bookcase; sunlight streaming in from the tall windows. 

But no sign of Sirius Black. 

“Miss me, did you, love?” 

Sirius chuckles into your ear—you jump out of your skin, clutching at your knees in fright. 

“Merlin’s tits—!” 

You gasp for air while Sirius and Remus laugh at your expense. “You fucking wanker!” You grab one of the quilted pillows as Sirius jumps over the back of the couch. “You’re an idiot, Sirius Orion.” 

“There.” Sirius flops right down on the sofa; his hair tied up in a low bun, silver rings around his fingers. “Now you don’t look so bloody scared and nervous around us. We don’t bite, you know.” He pauses, then grins devilishly at you. “Unless you ask.” 

You slap your palms against your lap. “Anyways—!” 

Nostrils flaring as you take a deep breath—this is going to be a long day. You begin setting the parchments, feather quills, and Divination textbooks on the coffee table, along with a notebook where you had written some observations during the week. “When we were out—erm—birdwatching the other day, I noted down the birds that flew by for our readings. For Remus, it was a flock of Firecrests. And—” 

“I’m very sorry, loveliest love, but none of this makes any bloody sense to me.” Sirius goes through the Divination volumes you had checked out from the library, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “Tea reading, I can tolerate. But studying bird droppings really isn’t my thing.” 

You glare heatedly at him, oddly defensive about the subject. “We’re not studying bird droppings, you plonker. There’s so much more to Ornithomancy than what meets the eyes. You see, nature connects everything. From the number of birds you encounter, to which direction they fly, their pattern of flight, down to the colors of their wings.” 

You point to the glaring page from Snallygasters and Omens: Vol. 1 where a picture of a Jobberknoll jumps out. “This bird flies to the east because the east governs new beginnings and warm springs after winter. Blue wings symbolize reliability. One day in the future you’ll be tasked with a huge responsibility. A family could entrust their godson to you, who knows? You have to be clear-headed, Sirius. Your emotions can get the best of you if you’re not careful.” 

Without even pausing to breathe, you say, “Remus. The firecrest. Smallest bird in the wizarding world, but will dare to fly higher than any other creature, even the king of birds. The firecrest and its flock were flying to the south that day, Remus. To the place of passion and life. Love. Beauty.” 

“So it’s. . . it’s more than just bird droppings!” 

By the end of it all, your chest is heaving, fingers trembling with adrenaline; Remus and Sirius gazing at you with stars in their eyes, devotion pouring from their growing smiles. (Oh, how their hearts beat for you.) 

Sirius tips your chin with his knuckle, leaning closer until you feel his breath on your nose. “Welcome back, princess.”

NIGHT FALLS WITHOUT anyone’s permission. James, Lily, and Peter make their way back to the Gryffindor tower, patches of sunburn on their nose after spending the entire day outside observing bird flight patterns. Like Sirius, Lily has her mind firmly set against the philosophies of Divination; the mumbo jumbo not really all that comprehensible to her. As they enter the common room, her hand in James’s, they’re greeted by a rare sight—one that Lily didn’t think she would see again. 

Sirius is sitting on the floor by the fireplace, wand tucked behind his ear, a pile of books at his side, his brows contorted in frustration as he drowns in the pages of When Fortunes Turn Fowl. He presses his finger to his lips when his silvery eyes fall on Lily and James, jerking his head to the scene across him. 

Lily fails to bury her smile when she sees you snoring away at Remus’s lap, his fingers absentmindedly knitting through strands of your hair. The space is bedecked in loose pages with scribbled notes on them and ink stains on the carpet. 

“I take it you three got further along than we did,” Lily whispers as she kneels beside Remus, softly nudging his chin as she captures him in a fond kiss. 

Remus smiles into her lips. “A month’s worth of progress, at least. Thanks to this one here. I don’t think I’ll ever look at a bird the same way again.” 

“Who knew our little eagle had a knack for Divination?” Lily chuckles, gaze softening as she delicately drags her knuckle down your cheek. “It’s getting pretty late. Should we wake her up?” 

Remus shakes his head. “No. Let her sleep a bit more.” 

Selfishly, Lily agrees. She traces the tip of your nose, the pillows of your lips, before retracting her hand with a long sigh. “We used to talk about anything and everything until the sun rose. Now, it seems like I can never catch up to her no matter how fast I run.”

“Lily—” 

“Don’t worry,” says Lily. “I am nothing if not stubborn. She’ll know my wrath soon.” 

Sirius snickers. “How charming.” 

The fire crackles and you mumble something, deep in slumber, shifting in Remus’s hold, “Only one percent. . . of the world’s population is . . . is naturally redheaded.” 

“Is that right?” Lily grins from ear to ear. 

Just you wait, Lily is going to sweep you off your feet.

(Something she should have done years ago.) 

“IS THAT A new jumper?”

Pandora simpers knowingly, heterochromatic eyes uncovering your every secret—the beads in her long braids click as she keeps in time with your brisk pace. She teasingly pulls at the oversized sweater. “It looks good on you.” 

You narrow your eyes at her, watchfully twisting your arms around your waist. “It was cold this morning, alright? Remus lent it to me. It’s not a big deal. It’s what friends do, right?” 

“So, you’re friends now?” Pandora muses. “Well, thank the Gods, because it has been excruciating watching you tiptoe around one another. It only took you lot three years, but it’s better than never, eh?” 

“Wilderwood! No magic in the corridors! That’s five points from Slytherin!” You bark at the stubborn fifth-year who grins sheepishly at you, before you reply to Pandora, an ache forming at the back of your head. “It’s complicated. Everything was sort of awkward in the beginning.” 

You think of last night, how Sirius was especially keen on making you laugh every few seconds; Remus would inch closer to you, head nearly on your shoulder as he peeks at the notes you’ve jotted down. You could barely think straight in their presence. Then, you remember waking up earlier this morning, James sprawled all over Sirius and Lily on the couch; Remus’s nose fully buried in his drawing book.

“But. . .” You trail off, remembering Remus’s arms around you as he sent you off, careful not to wake the others. (“I am a selfish bastard, pet,” He whispers into your hair, “I’m sorry, but let me steal this morning from them.”)

“It’s like coming home after a long day.”

“Brilliant!” Pandora exclaims, roughly laying her hands on your shoulders as she ushers you past the cobblestone walkway and into the grassfield, where the Quidditch Pitch rests in the near distance. You hadn’t even realized that you were a little ways from the castle already. “Tell them that!” 

“What?” You squawk. “Are you mad, woman?”

You hear the sound of brooms zipping by at an unimaginable speed. The crowd clamors over the announcer’s intense commentary. Your legs feel like they’ve been jinxed to feel like jelly. You hate Quidditch. 

“GRYFFINDOR SCORES! — That’s one-hundred and twenty in all! — Still no snitch yet! Hurry on, Potter! Mulciber’s got nothing on you– Ow! Professor! — Fawley heads for the goal! — Great deflect by Black! — Bletchley misses! — Another point for Gryffindor! We might as well end the game now!”

“Mr. Prewett!” You hear McGonagall scold into the charmed megaphone. 

“Sorry, Minnie! Anyway! — Mulciber and Potter race for the Snitch! Potter reaches out! — Surprisingly good manoeuvre from Mulciber! — Come on, James! — He’s almost got it! — It’s right there!”

You wait with a bated breath.

The crowd goes absolutely wild.

“Potter’s got it! — GRYFFINDOR HAS WON!” 

“Go on now, treasure. Before the Wrackspurts get inside your head again.” Pandora urges you forward, dusting the invisible creatures off your shoulders. As you take one step into the field, fireworks of gold and scarlet light up the sky, the Gryffindor teams’ cries of victory shake the ground; you hear Fabian screaming into the megaphone. Your fingers go numb. “Don’t let another day go by without expressing your heart,” says Pandora into your ear, almost a gust of wind if you hadn’t been paying attention. “Go to them. They are waiting for you.”

“But what if they aren’t?” You watch as the sun descends on the Gryffindor team lifting James in the air, Golden Snitch in his gloved hand. Sirius catches Lily by the waist, twirling her up high; her smile more dazzling than any other gem you’ve seen. As James is set back down on the ground, he snatches Remus unaware and bends him down for a fervent kiss.

“Dora, what if I’m the only one who feels this way? I can’t do that to them. What are the chances that I’ll ruin everything? That would hurt more than anything.”

Pandora cups your cheeks and lays her forehead on yours. “You won’t ever know unless you go out there.”

With that, she pushes you into the Quidditch pitch. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, ears ringing from the crowd chanting James’s name, and your heart pounding in fear. 

“J-James. . .” You call out weakly as he drowns in the sea of students.

Perhaps it’s a sign.

This really wasn’t a good idea.

Love is a fool’s game.

Don’t you get it? They don’t need you in the picture at all.

“N-No!” You shout, chest heaving. If everything happens for a reason, maybe you were meant to meet in that train compartment all those years ago. You’ve lost three years with them already.

If you don’t go to them right now, you could lose a lifetime. 

If bravery is for the reckless and arrogant, you’re prepared to be the most depraved witch in the castle just to stay by their side. 

“James—!”

“Go, go, Gryffindor!”

You bite your lip in frustration—but you can’t just give up. Not now. 

Once more.

“JAMES FLEAMONT POTTER!”

Please.

Time stops as you stand at the edge of the field; James whips his head around and finds you instantly. The glow of having just won a match doesn’t even compare when his eyes land on you. He pushes past his team members and some of the Gryffindor students, his gaze unwavering, some of them call out his name but he doesn’t bother looking back. Before you even know it, he stands in front of you, breathing heavily—but not from the rush of the game.

“You’re here,” He says, eyes disappearing into his smile. “But you hate Quidditch.”

“I do.” You grin wearily. “But I love you more.”

Without even giving James the chance to speak, you ramble on, hurricanes whirling in your stomach, “You’re a bloody brilliant wizard, James Potter. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you that before. I see you. I see all of you. How could I not? I love you. I think I’ve loved all of you before I knew it was even love. It’s alright if you don’t feel the same w—” 

James grabs the back of your legs and hoists you up, tendrils of hair falling over his glasses as he beams at you. The sun can’t even dream of competing with him. 

“Put me down, James, I am going to hurl—!”

He spins you one more time for good measure before placing you on the ground. James barely gives you a second to gather your bearings as he seizes your lips with his own, hand cradling the back of your neck. 

“You’re here,” He says, unable to believe his very eyes, gently chasing after your lips, breaths mingling until you don’t remember where either begins or ends. “Don’t leave. Please.”

“I won’t. I won’t.” You promise breathlessly as James pecks the tip of your nose, the arch of your eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Beautiful.” He kisses you until you’re gasping for air. “And all ours.” 

There’s not a moment where you don’t feel loved, not even when he lets you go, and it’s Lily who encompasses you in her arms, bright hair filling your vision; you willingly burn in the warmth of her body. The mellow scent of pomegranates and red roses fill your nose. You see a never-ending horizon of kindness in her emerald eyes. (How could you have stayed away for so long?) It’s like finding a missing piece of your soul that you never knew that was lost. 

Lily laughs—it sounds like an orchestral symphony. Her gaze cascades to your lips, the prettiest of smiles on her face; she cradles the curve of your jaw with utmost sincerity, a few drops of tears shimmering against her freckled skin. “May I?”

“Please.” You feel her breath tickling your lips, deftly pulling you in for a kiss until all you can feel is her. She consumes every inch of you, and you are happy to surrender, heart and soul. 

“You must be the thickest Ravenclaw I’ve ever met,” says Lily, giggling as she kisses you once, twice—thrice. 

“And that means?” You scoff lightheartedly. 

She steals another kiss from you. “That means: I hope you know that we have loved you ever since, you daft witch. That I’ve loved you all this time. And now that you’re ours, we are going to make sure you remember that. Every single day for the rest of our lives.” 

You smile, holding onto her hand, dizzy with a hundred emotions. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

(Your Divination project is a point lower than Lily, Peter and James’s, but you find that it’s the luckiest fortune you’ve ever had.) 

EPILOGUE:

“I LOVE QUIDDITCH!” 

You are twenty-two years old, nose bitten from the chilly air, lounging in the best seating area the Quidditch World Cup has to offer; an unobstructed view of the players. The match is between the Brazilian and Japanese National Quidditch teams. Much to Sirius and James’s chagrin, your cheek is painted in yellow and green stripes, the vibrant flag around your shoulders. 

You scream along with the crowd, nearly spilling your Butterbeer popcorn, as the Brazilian players enter the vast stadium. You ardently shake Lily’s shoulders. “That’s him! That’s him! Lily, it’s Brazil’s youngest ever Seeker! Vinícius Silva! I watched a replay of his matches and he’s got a seventy-eight percent win rate!”

“Watch out, love, you’ll fall off the edge if you aren’t careful,” Lily says worriedly.

“His fastest record for catching the Golden Snitch is ten minutes and thirty seconds! He’s won Most Outstanding Player in the Junior Division twice! I’ve got a good feeling about this team—I knew those auguries were a lucky sign.” 

“The only Seeker you should be obsessing over is me.” You hear James grumbling behind your back, stealing a kiss from Lily’s lips before pressing his mouth to your cheek. “And you bloody well know that Japan’s Chaser, Kurosawa, is going to steal the limelight in this match. An average possession time of thirty seconds per play. A beast, that one.” 

You wave him off, more confident in your statistics. “Did you place my bets? I’m telling you, we’re going to be rich.” 

“Yes, darling,” He says, utterly loving his role as the dutiful husband. 

Moments later, Sirius appears at his side, fussing over your scarf, and kissing you just because. “Can we take off your bloody hat now? I think you just blinded Malfoy and his little blonde gremlin.” 

“Isn’t that a good thing?” You simper fiendishly before smacking his arm. “And don’t call your nephew that.” 

Sirius grins.

You pull at one of his curls. “Besides, if you’re good you can take off everything later tonight.”

He pulls you in for a deep kiss, hand at your waist, nose brushing each other’s. “And that is why I love you, dear wife.” 

You pout, albeit seeing right through his white, little jape. “Truly?” 

Sirius lands another kiss to your forehead. “Are you doubting me, loveliest love of my life? The lighthouse in my ocean storms. The apple of my eye. Fire in my loins—”

You slap a hand over his mouth. “I get it, thank you, my love.” 

Sirius beams from ear to ear. “Glad to have eased your doubts, darling.”

Thirty minutes into the match, Remus arrives, dressed in a muted gray suit, light brown hair flopping over his eyes. He greets everyone with a tired kiss. 

You immediately wrap him in a hug, nuzzling your nose into his neck. He had a particularly difficult full moon some nights ago. You press a tender kiss to the scar right below his jaw. “How was work? Did you bring my binder? It has my lesson plan for next week, I don’t want to return to the castle unprepared, and—”

The newest Defense Against the Dark Arts professor squeezes your waist. “Work was fine, pet. And no, I didn’t bring the papers because right now we are not working. We are going to watch Brazil win the bloody match and get right home to Harry after.” 

You, the newest Divination teacher of Hogwarts, tug him by his necktie, smiling coyly. “Sounds like a wonderful plan to me.” 

BONUS: 

“REMUS!”

The empty classroom is filled with soft, fervid moans—two professors especially drunk on the taste of each other’s lips. You’re seated on the desk, Remus wedged between your thighs, his hand inching dangerously higher and higher; the other hand slipping under your shirt and thumbing the bare skin underneath. He captures your whispers and mewls with his lips. Jackets and ties are tossed carelessly to the side. 

“So fucking beautiful.” He nips at your lower lip. 

“Rem. . .” You whimper, tugging at the strands of his hair. “Remus—please!” 

The door to the DADA classroom slams open and you two detangle from each other’s embrace in record speed. As you pat down your hair, Remus draping his blazer over your shoulders, you watch Lily and Harry stalk over to you in lengthy strides, reaching the both of you within seconds. You clear your throat, awkwardly averting your gaze from your son’s precious eyes; Lily, a moment away from throwing her head back in laughter. 

Harry, fourteen, and not at all ignorant to what couples do in the castle alcoves, sees the ruffled hair, the lipstick over his father’s cheeks and neck, and his parent’s misbuttoned blouse. 

He grimaces. “You two are disgusting, you know that right?” 

You guffaw, pinching his cheek. “Now, is that any way to greet the person who’s changed your diapers since you were a baby?” 

Lily cackles from Remus’s side, fixing the collar of his shirt. “Harry’s got a bit of a problem. Go on, tell them, my love.” 

Harry immediately throws his hands in the air, groaning frustratedly. “It’s Ron! He thinks I put my name in the bloody Goblet—!” 

“Which, I will still be having a word with Dumbledore about,” You say decisively. You’re not about to endanger your son. The Minister of Magic and the Headmaster be damned. They can also take it up with your husband, James, Head Auror of the Magical Law Enforcement department. 

“And now Ron’s not talking to me, Hermione’s not talking to me because I’m not talking to Ron—Colin’s following me around everywhere I go! I’m going mad, mum!” Harry slumps on one of the empty chairs, huffing. “Stupid bloody tournament.” 

You chuckle as you walk over to him, feeling an odd sense of déjà vu. “Take it from me.” You press a warm kiss to his forehead. “Talk to them, otherwise you’ll lose time that was meant to be spent together. It doesn’t matter who was wrong or who was right. It’s important that you have the courage to reach out. They’re your friends. They will understand your heart soon enough.” 

Harry blinks. “Thanks.” 

He exits the classroom in a daze, heavily pondering on your words. 

The door clicks shut, and Lily wordlessly locks the entrance. She turns to you and Remus, a sultry grin on her ruby red lips. “What are the chances we Floo home, and invite Sirius and James to join us?” 

You take her outstretched hand. “A hundred and twelve.”

a/n. i wasn't satisfied with the angst here.. so expect a hufflepuff!reader and enemies to lovers next time (i promise to do better in the next fic aaakfsh) tell me what u thought of this one EUEUEU HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS FIC!! heart heart

[latenightreadingpdf]

A Hufflepuff's Heart - Regulus Black

₊‧⁺˖⋆ Masterlist ⋆˖⁺‧₊

Summary: Regulus Black’s unexpected friendship with a sweet Hufflepuff is revealed when Sirius catches them together.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The air in the castle was brisk, the cool draft weaving through the stone corridors and carrying with it the faint scent of autumn leaves and freshly lit torches. Regulus pulled his cloak a little tighter around his shoulders, his mind preoccupied with the latest round of pranks that had once again targeted Slytherin House. It wasn’t hard to guess who was responsible—his brother Sirius’s handiwork was as familiar as it was aggravating. Regulus could almost predict the moment Sirius would appear, armed with a smirk and a taunt, ready to test his patience yet again.

Sure enough, as Regulus turned the corner, Sirius was waiting there, arms crossed, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Ah, Regulus,” Sirius drawled, that irritatingly self-satisfied smile tugging at his lips. “How’s my favorite Slytherin?”

Regulus forced himself to remain calm, carefully keeping his expression neutral, planning to just walk right past his brother.

Sirius’s grin widened, undeterred. “I take it you noticed the common room… enhancement? Thought the emerald and silver scheme could use a bit of sparkle.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, the irritation flaring up despite his attempts to stay indifferent. “If you’re going to make yourself a nuisance, at least have the decency to make it subtle.”

“Oh, subtlety is no fun, Reg,” Sirius replied easily, leaning back against the wall, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Besides, it’s not as if you’re incapable of a bit of rule-breaking yourself. Don’t think I don’t know about those after-hours trips to the library—”

“Sirius,” Regulus interrupted sharply, his voice low but firm. “I’m not interested in discussing my nightly habits with you.”

Before Sirius could fire back, the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor, followed by a familiar, bright voice that cut through the tension like sunlight breaking through clouds.

“Reggy!”

Both brothers turned to see you striding towards them, your Hufflepuff robes swishing as you approached, your face lighting up with a smile that was warm enough to melt even the most stubborn winter chill. Regulus’s expression softened instantly, his usual guarded look replaced by something more open, more vulnerable.

Without a second thought, you walked right up to Regulus and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. He stiffened for a heartbeat, caught off guard by your sudden affection, but quickly melted into the embrace, his arms coming up to hold you close.

“Hey,” you said softly, pulling back just enough to look at him, your eyes filled with warmth and a hint of concern. “How have you been?”

“I’m… good,” Regulus replied, his voice softer than usual, almost as if he were afraid of breaking the spell your presence cast. A small, genuine smile tugged at his lips, a rare sight that seemed reserved only for you.

As you finally pulled back, still standing close to him, you seemed to notice Sirius for the first time, your gaze shifting over to the older Black brother with a look of surprise. A polite, curious smile flickered across your face as you gave him a small wave.

“Oh, hi! I didn’t realize there was anyone else here. I’m Y/N,” you said, introducing yourself in that sweet, open way that Regulus had come to adore.

Sirius raised his eyebrows, looking you up and down as if trying to solve a riddle. He offered a nod, his grin softening into something more curious, though he said nothing in reply. For once, Sirius Black seemed to be at a loss for words. There was something he couldn’t quite place about you—a gentleness, a warmth—that seemed so at odds with the icy walls Regulus usually built around himself. It was strange, almost impossible to imagine someone so kind being so close to his guarded, distant brother.

After a moment, Sirius managed a slight smile, finally extending his hand to you. "Sirius Black,” he introduced himself, his tone curious, though he kept his usual charm restrained. “Regulus’s… older brother.”

You took his hand, returning his smile with a polite one of your own. “Oh! It’s nice to meet you,” you replied, a hint of surprise in your voice. You turned back to Regulus, seemingly oblivious to Sirius’s scrutiny. “I had no idea you had a brother, Reggy!” you said with a laugh, your eyes shining with amusement. “You keep him quite the secret.”

Regulus shifted, his hand instinctively tightening around your shoulder. He’d dreaded this moment for so long, the day you would meet Sirius, the brother who seemed to draw people in without effort, who everyone adored and admired. Regulus had always felt invisible in his shadow, the “other” Black brother, colder and quieter, always on the outside looking in. But you had seen him—you had seen past the walls, the carefully constructed mask, and found something worth holding onto. And he couldn’t bear the thought of sharing that with Sirius, of watching you get pulled into his brother’s orbit and realizing he could never be what Sirius was.

Sirius, still watching silently, caught the faint, possessive gesture, the way Regulus seemed to pull you closer as if trying to keep you all to himself. His expression flickered with something unreadable, a mixture of curiosity and something softer, something he hadn’t expected to feel. Seeing Regulus with you—seeing his younger brother so fiercely protective of this rare connection—stirred something in him, a strange pang of almost… respect.

The silence stretched, and you shifted slightly, glancing between the two brothers as if sensing the tension, though you didn’t seem to mind. Instead, you gave Sirius a warm, friendly smile before turning back to Regulus, your hand reaching for his as you gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Well, Reggy and I should get going,” you said softly, looking up at him. “We’ve got some homework to catch up on.”

Regulus’s gaze softened at the touch, and he nodded, his lips curving into that faint, private smile that he reserved only for you. “Yes, we should.”

With a final nod toward Sirius, Regulus gently guided you down the hallway, his arm draped protectively over your shoulders. He glanced back once, catching Sirius’s gaze, and for a fleeting moment, the brothers shared a look of understanding—a silent acknowledgment, a truce of sorts. Sirius watched as you walked away together, his brow furrowed in thought, his mind turning over the strange puzzle of his brother and his unlikely friend.

How did someone as kind, as open-hearted as you manage to find your way into the life of someone as complex and withdrawn as Regulus? Sirius couldn’t understand it, couldn’t fathom what had drawn you to his quiet, brooding brother. But as he watched the two of you disappear down the corridor, he felt a spark of hope, a rare flicker of warmth in the cold, stone-cast walls of the castle.

Maybe Regulus had found something Sirius had never truly understood—a genuine connection that didn’t rely on charm or bravado, but on something softer, something real.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

[moonstruckme]

Hey! Unsure what happened but I copy+pasted a request into my doc and now it's gone :( Anyway to whoever sent this, thank you!

Request: can i request hurt/comofort with high!reader x buzzed!sirius (or poly!mar whatever you’d like) where reader smokes a little more then she can handle and he takes care of her but he’s like still a little high himself, if that makes sense TT just nice and lovey and dovey!!!!

cw: weed, greening out, mention of vomit/nausea

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 727 words

Sirius is trying to be comforting, but he keeps getting distracted by the feel of your back underneath his hand. The muscles of your shoulders are tight, your breathing stilted and your skin shiny with a thin layer of sweat. Sirius can’t stop thinking about how he’d like to rest his face in between your shoulder blades and kiss an adoring line down your spine. He worries it wouldn’t be very helpful. 

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is quieter than breath, a soft sigh drooping your shoulders as you let your head loll forward. 

Your body starts to list forward with it. Sirius weaves his arm under yours, settling down more comfortably on the bathroom floor and pulling you back against his chest. 

“I’m sorry, baby.” He kisses the crown of your head. “I should have warned you about this. I need to remember to be careful with you.” 

Caution isn’t really in Sirius’ nature, but however unwisely, you put a lot of trust in him. The weed you’d smoked tonight was a different strain than the one he’s shared with you before, but he’d forgotten to clue you in. You’d matched him hit for hit, and with your lower tolerance it hadn’t ended well. You’ve been sick more than once. 

“You’re so nice,” you whisper. Your voice sounds tight. Sirius’ chest contracts, worrying you’re starting to get teary. “You don’t have to take care of me, but you are. You’re so, so nice.” Definitely teary now. “I’m really sorry for ruining your night.” 

“Aw, sweetheart.” He kisses the side of your face with something akin to desperation. He already feels like his heart is going to spill right out of his ribcage, and your upset makes it about ten times worse. “You’re not ruining anything. Of course I have to take care of you, you’re my girl, you know? I want to.” 

He peers around you, trying to see your face. You’ve got that same, slightly spaced-out look you’ve had for the past hour, a sad little line between your brows. Sirius reaches up to smooth it out with his finger, and you turn toward him like you’d forgotten he was there. He wonders if this much affection can actually crush his bones to dust. It feels plausible.

“I love you,” he says. 

You sigh, fitting your head into the crook of his neck and shoulder. It’s not a happy sound, but he knows it’s not meant for him. “You, too.” 

You take his hand, turning it palm up and tracing the lines in his skin. Your touch is so light it tickles. He has a small scar from a failed attempt at cooking with James when he first moved out, and when you get to it you raise his palm to your lips, resting them there purposefully. 

“Can I have a hug?” you mumble against his skin. 

“Fuck yeah, always.” 

Sirius does the work of turning you around, your own coordination not spectacular at the moment, and your arms curl under his arms, wrists crossing between his shoulder blades. He thinks your hands might be making fists. For his part, he rubs up and down your spine slowly, squeezing intermittently, unsure how much you want. Sirius has always been shit at comfort. He’ll keep trying as long as you let him.

“I don’t like this,” you admit. Your face feels warm where it’s pressing into his shoulder, and Sirius realizes you might be crying again. He hugs you harder. “I can’t think.” 

He feels, very acutely, his heart fracturing. “Oh, baby,” he murmurs, “I’m so sorry. I know it’s awful.” 

“I’m scared,” you whimper. 

“I know, sweet girl.” He may well be crushing you now. If your ribs are breaking, you don’t seem inclined to say anything about it. “You’ll be okay, though, I promise. I’ve got you. Just try to relax, and I’ll take care of you, yeah?” You don’t respond, sniffling. Sirius rubs your back again. “Do you feel like you’re going to be sick any more, darling?” 

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” 

“Alright, my lovely. Let’s go to bed, okay? You might feel better when you wake up.” 

You hug him tighter. “Thank you for being so nice to me.” 

“Wrong again,” he says, tucking a kiss into your hair. “I’m not nice to you, I just love you too much.” 

[ms-snape]

Hey, can I request a young sirius x reader where he have a crush on her but he' mostly used to flirt with the girls and have he watts but the reader isn't like that and she keeps rejecting him....it' okay if you don't...I Just love your writing♡

Title: Not like others

Warning: flirt sirius

Word Count: 2500+

Masterlist

---

The sun hung low over Hogwarts, casting a golden hue across the grounds, illuminating the ancient stone and sprawling greenery. The Great Lake shimmered under the afternoon light, rippling gently with the whispers of the breeze. Laughter echoed from the Gryffindor common room, where the Marauders had congregated, their typical banter filling the air.

Sirius Black lounged comfortably on the plush armchair, his signature smirk in place as he flirted effortlessly with a group of girls who hung on his every word. He thrived in the attention, relishing the playful banter and the easy confidence that came from being the center of attraction. Yet, amidst the laughter and lighthearted jests, his thoughts drifted. They wandered to her—Y/n, the girl who had somehow breached the fortress of his heart.

Y/n sat nearby, engaged in conversation with Lily and James, her laughter ringing like a melody that captivated him. She was stunning, her features a blend of innocence and strength, but what truly drew him in were her eyes—deep and expressive, reflecting a world of thoughts and emotions. Yet, despite his heart racing at her presence, Sirius struggled with the way he felt about her.

He had always been a flirt, weaving through relationships like a butterfly, leaving behind a trail of admirers and broken hearts. But with Y/n, it was different. She wasn’t just another girl; she had become a secret treasure, something worth cherishing, yet he couldn’t find the words to convey his feelings. Instead, he resorted to his old ways, flirtation pouring from his lips like honey, masking the deeper emotions brewing within him.

“Hey there, beautiful,” he drawled, leaning back with that familiar, devil-may-care attitude as he aimed his attention at Y/n. She glanced up, momentarily meeting his gaze, and the light in her eyes dimmed slightly. It was a subtle shift, barely noticeable, yet it cut through him like a knife.

“Do you need help with your Charms essay?” she asked, a faint smile touching her lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Only if you promise to help me pass,” he teased, casting her a roguish grin. His heart sank as he noticed her forced smile.

Y/n turned her attention back to Lily, dismissing him without another glance. It stung more than he anticipated. The fleeting moments where they would steal glances at each other were now replaced with a growing distance. Confusion gnawed at him; he could see the hurt in her expression, but he didn't know how to bridge the gap he had unintentionally created.

As days passed, the pattern continued. Sirius would flirt and charm, drawing laughter from those around him, but Y/n remained distant. She spent time with Lily, her laughter still ringing, but it was tinged with an undertone of sadness that tugged at Sirius’s heartstrings.

It was during a quiet evening in the common room that Remus noticed the shift in atmosphere. Sirius sat across from him, a frown creasing his forehead as he stared into the flickering flames of the fireplace.

“Mate, what’s up with you?” Remus asked, concern lacing his voice.

Sirius sighed, running a hand through his unruly hair. “It’s Y/n. I can’t seem to reach her. Every time I flirt with her, it’s like I’m pushing her away.”

“Have you considered that maybe she sees you as just another fling?” Remus mused, his brow furrowing in thought. “You’re known for your charm, Sirius. She might think you want her for all the wrong reasons.”

“I don’t!” Sirius exclaimed, frustration leaking through his tone. “I like her, Remus. I genuinely like her. But every time I try to show it, I just end up making things worse.”

Remus leaned back, crossing his arms as he regarded his friend. “Maybe you need to try something different. Show her you care without the flirtation. Get her flowers or something.”

“Flowers?” Sirius echoed, incredulous. “I’m not some lovesick puppy!”

“Right, but if you want her to believe that you’re serious about your feelings, you have to show her. She’s not going to believe it if you keep playing the same game,” Remus replied, his voice calm but firm.

Sirius mulled over Remus’s words. It felt utterly foreign to him—this idea of soft gestures and vulnerability. But if it meant winning Y/n’s heart, he was willing to try. He just had to learn how to break through the walls he’d unintentionally built around her heart.

The next morning, Sirius made a plan. He found himself wandering through the Hogwarts grounds, heading towards the greenhouses. The vibrant flowers swayed in the gentle breeze, each petal whispering promises of beauty. He approached a cluster of blooming daisies and picked a small bouquet, the innocent blooms representing the simplicity of his growing affection for Y/n.

Clutching the flowers tightly, he made his way back to the Gryffindor common room. His heart raced with uncertainty, thoughts swirling in his mind. Would this be enough to prove to Y/n that he was different? That he wanted more than just a fleeting moment?

When he entered the common room, Y/n was sitting by the window, her gaze lost in the distance. The sunlight caught her hair, making it glow, and for a moment, Sirius simply stood there, captivated. Taking a deep breath, he approached her, forcing down the anxiety that threatened to overwhelm him.

“Y/n?” he said softly, and she turned to him, surprise flickering in her eyes.

“What’s this?” she asked, glancing at the flowers in his hand.

“Um, they’re for you,” he stammered, the words tumbling out awkwardly.

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “For me?”

“Yeah. I thought… I thought maybe you’d like them,” he said, extending the bouquet toward her.

She hesitated, her gaze shifting from the flowers to his face, searching for something deeper. “Why, Sirius?”

“Because I like you,” he replied, his heart pounding. “Not just as a flirtation or a game. I care about you, Y/n.”

Her expression remained guarded, doubt clouding her features. “You say that now, but you’ve always been a flirt. How am I supposed to believe you?”

The sting of her words hit hard. “Because I wouldn’t do this for anyone else. I’m not trying to play you, I promise.”

Y/n reached out, tentatively accepting the flowers, but the uncertainty in her eyes lingered. “I just… I don’t want to be another one of your flings, Sirius. I’m not like the others.”

“I don’t want that either,” he insisted, his voice earnest. “I’m trying to show you that I’m serious about us. I want to be more than just a passing moment.”

For a brief moment, hope flickered in her eyes before it dimmed again. “It’s hard to believe that when you’ve built your reputation on charm.”

Sirius felt a wave of frustration wash over him, but he held it back, knowing it wouldn’t help his case. Instead, he thought of Remus and his advice. “Give me a chance to prove it. Let me show you how I feel.”

As the days rolled by, Sirius embraced the challenge. With Remus’s guidance, he began to shower Y/n with small, thoughtful gestures. He’d leave her little notes hidden in her books, the words carefully chosen to reflect his growing feelings. He surprised her with her favorite sweets from Honeydukes, savoring the way her eyes lit up with joy each time.

“Honestly, Sirius,” she said one evening, glancing at the assortment of chocolates he’d brought her. “You’re being way too nice.”

“Is that a bad thing?” he replied, a teasing lilt in his voice, but his heart raced with nervous energy. “I just want to show you I’m serious about this.”

Y/n took a deep breath, her defenses slowly crumbling as she began to see the sincerity in his actions. “You’re really trying, aren’t you?”

“Every day,” he admitted, the weight of his feelings resting heavily in the air between them. “I just want you to see that I’m different. That I care about you, not just as a flirt but as someone I want in my life.”

She looked at him for a long moment, her expression softening. “It’s hard to let go of my doubts, Sirius. I’ve seen how you are with other girls. It’s difficult to reconcile that with how you are with me.”

Sirius nodded, understanding her struggle. “I know I have a reputation, but I promise you—what I feel for you is real. It scares me, to be honest, but it’s the truth.”

Their conversations continued, each interaction building a bridge between them, and slowly, the walls Y/n had erected began to crumble. She’d catch glimpses of his true self—the gentle side that cared deeply, and with every small act, he felt himself falling further into the depths of his feelings.

One evening, as the Marauders gathered in their usual spot in the common room, Sirius couldn’t help but steal glances at Y/n. She was sitting with Lily, sharing a laugh over some inside joke, the sound of her happiness wrapping around him like a warm blanket. It was a comforting sight, yet a pang of longing tightened in his chest.

“Alright, Padfoot,” James said, nudging him. “You’re practically drooling over there. Just go talk to her!”

“Yeah, before she gets snatched up by someone else,” Remus chimed in, a teasing smile gracing his lips.

“I’m trying!” Sirius retorted, but a nervous energy buzzed within him. “I just… want to make sure I don’t mess this up.”

“Just be honest,” James advised, his tone turning serious. “You’ve been making progress. Show her that you’re genuine.”

With that, Sirius rose, his heart pounding as he crossed the room. Y/n looked up as he approached, her expression shifting from surprise to curiosity.

“Hey, can I borrow you for a minute?” he asked, a hint of nervousness coloring his voice.

“Sure,” she replied, her smile encouraging.

He led her to a quieter corner of the common room, the soft glow of the fire casting gentle shadows around them. “I just wanted to talk to you… away from everyone else,” he said, his throat tightening.

“What’s on your mind?” she asked, her voice gentle.

“I know I’ve messed up in the past,” he began, his heart racing. “And I know it’s hard for you to see me as anything more than a flirt. But the truth is, you mean more to me than I can put into words. I’m falling for you, Y/n, and I don’t want to hide it anymore.”

Her eyes widened, a flicker of surprise crossing her features. “You’re serious?”

“Yes,” he affirmed, stepping closer, his gaze unwavering. “I know it’s scary and uncertain, but I want to give us a chance. You’re not just another girl to me. You’re special.”

Y/n’s expression softened, a mix of vulnerability and hope reflecting in her eyes. “I want to believe you, Sirius, but it’s hard.”

“I understand,” he replied, reaching out to gently take her hand. “But I promise, I’ll show you. Just give me a chance.”

Tension hung in the air as they stood together, hearts racing in sync. For a brief moment, it felt like the world had faded away, leaving just the two of them amidst the crackling warmth of the fire.

As days turned into weeks, Sirius continued to prove himself, each gesture a step closer to Y/n’s heart. They studied together, shared secrets, and laughed late into the night, the connection between them growing deeper. Y/n began to let her guard down, her laughter becoming more genuine, the warmth of their interactions melting away her reservations.

One evening, while sitting under the stars on the castle grounds, Y/n turned to Sirius, her expression thoughtful. “You’ve really changed, you know. I’ve never seen this side of you before.”

Sirius chuckled softly, a warm smile playing on his lips. “It’s all your fault, really. You make me want to be better.”

Y/n laughed, the sound light and free, and it filled him with joy. “I’m glad. I really am.”

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, his tone shifting as he searched for the right words. “About how I feel. I mean, it’s not just about flirting anymore. I want to be with you, for real.”

Y/n’s breath caught, surprise dancing in her eyes. “Sirius… do you mean it?”

“Every word,” he declared, leaning in closer, vulnerability evident in his gaze. “I want you in my life, not just as a fleeting moment but as something lasting.”

A smile broke across her face, illuminating the shadows of doubt that had lingered for so long. “I believe you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the soft rustle of leaves.

Sirius felt a warmth spread through him at her words, a sense of relief washing over him. “Really?”

“Yeah, I do,” she replied, her eyes shining with sincerity. “I think I’m starting to see the real you beneath all that charm.”

Their gazes locked, and in that moment, everything shifted. The air crackled with unspoken feelings, and Sirius leaned in, his heart pounding with anticipation. The distance between them vanished as their lips met in a tender kiss, a sweet culmination of everything they had built together.

As the weeks continued to unfold, the Marauders witnessed the transformation in their friend. Sirius was no longer the carefree flirt, but rather a young man in love, navigating the complexities of his newfound feelings. Y/n brought out the best in him, and he reveled in the joy of being with her.

One day, as they sat in the common room surrounded by their friends, Y/n leaned into Sirius, her head resting on his shoulder. “You know, I never thought I’d find someone like you,” she murmured softly.

Sirius smiled, wrapping his arm around her, pulling her closer. “And I never thought I’d want someone so much,” he admitted, a hint of awe in his voice.

Their friends watched the exchange with knowing smiles, the atmosphere in the room warm and filled with laughter. The Marauders shared their own banter, but the love blossoming between Sirius and Y/n was undeniable, a testament to the power of genuine affection.

With every passing day, Sirius found himself more entrenched in his feelings, each moment shared with Y/n reinforcing his belief that love could exist beyond mere flirtation. And as they continued to grow together, he realized that beneath the charm and bravado lay a heart yearning for connection—one that had finally found its match.

Their journey was just beginning, but the road ahead shimmered with promise, illuminated by the light of their love—a bond forged through laughter, understanding, and the unbreakable connection that comes from truly knowing one another.

In the depths of his heart, Sirius Black understood that this was no longer just a game; it was real, and he was ready to embrace it fully.

As the stars twinkled above them, Sirius squeezed Y/n's hand, feeling her warmth beside him. Together, they stepped into a future that held countless adventures, where their love would grow, unfurling like the flowers he had once brought her—delicate yet resilient, a beautiful testament to their journey together.

[andillneverbethesame]

GUILTY AS SIN?

❥ james potter x fem!reader, sirius black x fem!reader

❥ warnings; emotional cheating, sexual thoughts, self pleasuring

❥ you 'loved' your boyfriend sirius. or at least, you loved him as a friend. but his best friend james. . . he was the one that made your heart skip a beat, he was the one in your wildest dreams.

❥ word count; 4k

❥ a/n; meant to make this more inspired by guilty as sin but whateverr

my ts masterlist pt 1, pt 2

you sat together in a quiet common room, the low hum of the evening settling around you and him. your heart raced as you met his gaze, the warmth of his brown eyes drawing you closer.

he brushed a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering just a moment longer on your skin. you could feel the electricity between you two, the pull that had been there for so long, finally undeniable.

without thinking, you leaned in, your breath catching as your lips met softly. his hand slipped gently to the back of your neck, fingers weaving into your hair as he pulled you in deeper, your kiss becoming more urgent, more certain. the taste of him, the closeness — it sent your senses spiriling.

his arm travelled to around your waist, tugging you against him until there was barely any space left between your bodies. you sighed against his lips, feeling the press of his breath mingle with your own. every touch, every kiss felt like it held the weight of everything unsaid between you two.

time seemed to slow, the outside world fading as you lost yourselves in each other. he kissed you deeper and you surrendered to the warmth, the tenderness of the moment, feeling safe and alive in his arms, knowing that you didn't need words to understand what was building between you and him.

you tugged at the hem of his shirt. the weight of his embrace dissapeared as he lifted his arms so you could take it off. once the piece of clothing was lying on the common room floor, you pulled away for a second to admire his body that must have been sculpted by some greek god.

he smirked and took the opportunity to push you so you were lying down on the sofa. he climbed on top of you and once again, connected your lips. one of his hands made its way from the side of your face, through the valley of your breasts until it reached the bow of your underwear, and then—

thud!

you opened your eyes and quickly sat up. you were a bit confused as of your whereabouts but soon realized you were in the marauders's dorm. in your boyfriend's bed.

you turned your head to find the reason of the loud thud and found james potter standing a few steps from where you were. he picked up what most likely fell, a muggle book you began reading a few days ago.

the worst thing? he was only in a towel that hang dangerously low on his hips. he looked just as attractive as he did in your dreams. but this was worse. this was reality. and you had a hard time trying to look away.

“sorry, love,” james said and blood rushed into your cheeks at the nickname. it always did when he called you that, “didn't mean to scare you. i was just wondering what the book is about. sounds interesting.”

“you can have it,” you said without thinking. “borrow it, i mean. if you want.”

james raised his eyebrow. “you're halfway through. i'll borrow it when you're done,” he said and put it back on your (well, sirius's) nightstand.

before you could respond, the door opened and sirius walked in, still in his quidditch uniform. you realized they must have had an early morning practice and that's why sirius (nor peter and remus, who were probably watching them) wasn't there before.

“good morning, babe,” your boyfriend said and pecked your lips. after he pulled away, he eyed james up and down. “why are you naked, prongs? trying to seduce my gorgeous girlfriend? i don't blame you. but back off,” he joked.

james only rolled his eyes, looking like he thought it was the most absurd thing in the entire world and it tugged at your heart. you wished he tried to seduce you.

but would you let him? you didn't know. you would if you weren't with sirius, you were hundred percent sure about that. but yiu, unfortunately, were and she couldn't do that to him. it was his best friend, for merlin's sake.

you forced a smile as you glanced at sirius. “how was the training?”

“good, good,” he replied as he took off the top of his uniform, revealing his slender body. “it'd be better if you were there, though. but i didn't want to wake you up. you looked so peaceful. like you were dreaming about something nice.”

you bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling. oh, sirius. if you only had a slightest idea what i was dreaming about.

the evening of that very same day, while you were in the shower, you couldn't stop thinking about james. he was on your mind when you turned on the water. he was on your mind when your hand slipped between your legs. you dreamed about him being there with you as she felt the familiar knot building in your belly. and you held back from moaning his name as the knot exploded and your legs shook, and so you just whispered it, over and over until you came back to your senses again.

your face was all pink when you looked into the mirror, realizing you've never touched yourself and thought about sirius. sure, the sex was great. there was no doubt that he was a skilled guy, but it did nothing to the emotional side of you.

you sighed and opened the bathroom door before walking over to sirius's bed. you secretely glanced at james, who was already dead asleep, and wished you could go to him instead.

you slipped into sirius's bed and he turned around to face you. he had that look in his eyes that you knew well. and you shook your head.

“no, not today, i'm sorry,” you spoke and let your head hit the pillow. “i'm not feeling well.”

“oh, okay, that's alright,” he said and wrapped his arm around you. “what's wrong?”

“my belly aches. i think i'll get my period soon,” you lied and you hoped he wasn't secretely tracking your cycle to know you were making this up.

“oh no,” he frowned. “ is there anything i can do?”

you shook your head. “no, that's okay. nothing a good night of sleep can't fix.”

he nodded and pressed his lips to the side of your head. “goodnight, then. you can wake me up if something's wrong.”

“i will. goodnight.”

“goodnight. love you.”

you remained silent for whole two seconds. “love you too.” the taste of the words was bittersweet so you swallowed, letting the guilt eat you up alive.

whatever you tried, you could not turn your mind off and just fall asleep. it was a torture. leading on sirius like that while having more than platonic feelings for his best friend, who probably did not feel the same way about you. that was embarassing. you were ruining your relationship for something that's not guaranteed. and probably not even possible.

sirius was already sleeping when you got out of the bed and decided to go and wonder somewhere else.

the gryffindor common room was dimly lit and you noticed that the lamp next to one of the armchairs was on and remus lupin was curled up in it with a book in his hand.

he looked up at you and then at his watch. his eyebrows furrowed. “it's three in the morning, what are you doing here?”

“could ask you the same thing,” you replied and lied on the sofa opposite to where remus was sitting. “i couldn't sleep. i'm not feeling well.”

“physically or mentally?”

you didn't plan to tell remus, or anyone, for that matter, about your love problems. but you were feeling very vulnerable at that moment and you had no idea what to do.

“mentally,” you responded honestly. and remus only nodded, waiting for you to continue. “have you ever had such bad thoughts that made you think you were a horible person?”

he nodded once again. “i think everyone had these at least once in their life. but there's no such thing as bad thoughts. only your actions talk.”

you wondered what that really meant. you glanced at him and something in his eyes made your heart start racing.

he knew.

“w-wait, do you. . .” you trailed off, hoping for him to get what you mean.

“it's not that hard to see. . .” he answered. “but don't worry, sirius is oblivious. he has no idea. and neither does james.”

you sighed. “you don't think i'm a horrible person? for feeling like that about james when i'm with sirius? cause i definitely feel horrible.”

“i don't think you're a horrible person for feeling like that. but you should not continue whatever this thing is you have with sirius. he deserves to know. and after what he's gone through, he doesn't deserve to be lead on.”

you nodded. “yeah, you're right i need to tell him. but what if james finds out and doesn't feel the same? that'd be just embarassing.”

remus smiled. “trust me, he does feel the same.”

“how do you know?”

“he told me.”

y/n šat up and blinked at him, unsure if she heard that correctly. “he told you?”

that couldn't have been the truth right? you would surely notice if james liked you more than platonically. there would have to be some lingering touches and classes or something. james is the type of guy to show what he feels, especially through physical touch. you would know.

“he told me,” remus repeated. he must have noticed the suspicious look on your face because his next words were, “i'm not making this shit up, y/n. he told me around the christmas holidays while you were over at the potter's mansion. he realized his feelings because he finally admitted to himself he's jealous when he saw you and sirius cuddled up on the couch. he was miserable when he realized he might love his best friend's girlfriend. almost cried the whole night at the thought how this will hurt sirius. what he didn't know is that you love him, too, and that might hurt sirius even more.”

“he will hate me,” you breathed out and tears began to form in the corner of your eyes. “and james, too, if something happens between us.”

your shoulders began to shook as you let the tears fall down your cheeks. you might have not loved sirius as a romantic partner, but he was a close friend. he made you smile and laugh and he knew your fears and dreams. he was one of the closest people in your life. you did not want to lose him.

remus moved from his spot in the armchairs to the spot next to you on the sofa and put his arm around your shoulders. “there, there, it's going to be okay.”

“i'm horrible,” you sobbed. “am i even allowed to cry?”

“of course, you are,” remus whispered and pulled you close, allowing you to smell the comforting smell he had — books and chocolate (and cigarettes).

you had no idea what you were going to do. but one thing was sure.

you needed to tell sirius.

the next morning, you wake up with a heavy heart, your mind still swirling with last night's conversation with remus. sirius had woken up early, leaving a note on his pillow that he was off to another quidditch practice. you feel both relieved and anxious — it gives you more time to think, but also more time to dread what you need to do.

you can’t keep living this lie, but the thought of breaking sirius’s heart fills you with guilt. yet, what remus said about honesty echoes in your mind. sirius deserves the truth, and if you wait too long, the betrayal will hurt even more.

you get dressed slowly, your thoughts racing. what will you say? how can you explain this without tearing your entire friend group apart? the idea of sirius hating you is unbearable, and the fear of losing james before anything even begins twists your stomach in knots.

as you descend the stairs to the common room, each step feels heavier, as if dragging you deeper into your own turmoil. the room is mostly empty except for remus, who sits in his usual armchair, reading. he glances up when you appear, his expression softening when he sees the dark circles under your eyes.

“you look like you didn’t sleep at all,” he says, closing his book. “did you think about what we talked about?”

you nod, sitting down beside him, feeling the weight of everything about to come crashing down. "i have to tell him. today."

remus gives you a reassuring smile. “it’s the right thing to do. and after that... you’ll need to talk to james.”

your heart stutters at the mention of his name. the mere thought of confronting your feelings for james and what that means for your future — your friendship — makes you dizzy with nerves. you bite your lip and glance toward the portrait hole. you can already hear footsteps and familiar voices outside. sirius and james are returning from practice.

"how am i supposed to face them?" you whisper, more to yourself than to remus.

before remus can respond, the portrait swings open, and sirius walks in, all smiles, his hair messy and damp from exertion. james follows closely behind, laughing at something sirius had said, but the moment his eyes land on you, the laughter fades, and something flickers across his face — a brief moment of tension that makes your chest tighten.

sirius immediately crosses the room and kisses you on the forehead. "hey, love," he says with that bright smile you adore. "you feeling any better today?"

you swallow hard, your throat dry as you try to muster the words that have been festering inside you for too long. “sirius... we need to talk.”

sirius’s expression shifts, the playful grin fading as he sits down beside you. “sure, anything.” he glances over at james, who lingers by the door, clearly sensing the heaviness in the air. james gives a quick nod and mumbles something about taking a shower before disappearing up the stairs, leaving you and sirius alone.

remus, sensing the gravity of the moment, excuses himself with a reassuring pat on your shoulder and slips out of the common room, leaving you with sirius — and the truth you can no longer avoid.

you take a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. "sirius... there's something i need to tell you. and i’m so, so sorry."

his brows furrow in concern. “you’re scaring me. what’s going on?”

the words lodge in your throat, but you force them out, your voice trembling. “i haven’t been completely honest with you... about how i feel.”

sirius’s confusion deepens. “what do you mean?”

you look down at your hands, unable to meet his eyes as the confession spills from your lips. “i care about you, so much, but... i don’t love you the way you deserve to be loved. and worse... i’ve developed feelings for someone else.”

the silence that follows is suffocating. you can hear your own heartbeat echoing in your ears as you finally look up at sirius, whose face has gone from confused to utterly heartbroken.

“for someone else?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

you nod, your throat tightening. "james."

for a moment, sirius says nothing. he just stares at you, disbelief and pain swirling in his dark eyes. then, slowly, he stands up, running a hand through his hair as he takes a step back, as if needing physical distance from the revelation.

"james?" his voice cracks. “my best friend?”

your tears spill over as you nod again, the guilt overwhelming you. “i didn’t mean for it to happen, sirius. i never wanted to hurt you. i swear.”

sirius clenches his jaw, his hands curling into fists at his sides. he looks like he’s battling a storm inside himself, torn between the love he still feels for you and the betrayal stinging his heart. after what feels like an eternity, he exhales shakily, his voice hoarse. “i can’t believe this...”

“i know. i’m so sorry.”

sirius turns away, his shoulders slumped, and for a moment, you fear he’ll just walk away and never speak to you again. but he doesn’t. instead, he stands there, breathing deeply as if trying to hold himself together.

finally, he faces you again, his expression softer, but still full of pain. “i appreciate you telling me, y/n. i really do. but it doesn’t make this any easier.”

you wipe at your tears, nodding. “i never wanted to hurt you.”

“i know,” he says quietly. “but it’s gonna take me some time to deal with this. to deal with... everything.”

without another word, he turns and leaves the common room, leaving you sitting alone on the couch, your heart shattered from hurting someone you care about deeply.

now, the only thing left is to face james.

you sit there for a moment, frozen, the weight of everything pressing down on you like a heavy blanket. sirius’s departure leaves the room feeling colder, emptier. the silence that follows is almost unbearable, and your heart aches for him — for the pain you know you’ve caused.

but there’s no time to wallow in guilt now. you know what comes next.

james.

you stand slowly, your legs shaky as you gather yourself. your mind races as you head toward the stairs that lead to the boys’ dormitory, each step feeling heavier than the last. you pause outside the door, taking a deep breath. it feels impossible — how are you supposed to face him, especially after what just happened with sirius?

after a long moment, you finally muster the courage and knock softly on the door.

“come in,” james’s voice calls from the other side.

your heart leaps in your chest. you push the door open to find him sitting on his bed, still damp from the shower, hair tousled in that familiar messy way. he looks up, his brown eyes locking onto yours, and for a second, the world seems to stop.

you step inside, closing the door behind you, and the air feels thick with unspoken words.

“hey,” james says, his tone softer than usual, like he knows something is off. “what’s up? everything okay?”

you swallow hard, unsure how to begin. your voice comes out quieter than you intended. “i talked to sirius.”

his brows furrow slightly, confusion flickering in his eyes. “about what?”

you take a breath, sitting on the edge of the bed across from him. “about us. about... how i feel.”

james’s eyes widen slightly, and he sits up straighter. his expression shifts, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension washing over his face. “wait, what do you mean? what did you tell him?”

you look down at your hands, unable to meet his gaze. “i told him that i... that i have feelings for someone else.” the words feel heavy, hanging in the air between you both.

the silence that follows is thick, almost unbearable. you can feel james staring at you, his confusion growing.

“who?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, though part of him seems to already know the answer.

you finally look up, meeting his eyes, and the vulnerability you see in them nearly undoes you. “you,” you whisper, your heart pounding in your chest. “i told sirius i have feelings for you.”

james stares at you, completely still, as if the words haven’t fully registered. his mouth opens slightly, but no sound comes out at first. finally, after what feels like an eternity, he speaks, his voice shaky. “me?”

you nod, your throat tight. “i know it’s wrong. i know it’s messed up, and i feel awful for hurting sirius, but... i couldn’t keep pretending anymore. i can’t stop thinking about you, james.”

his breath catches, and you can see the battle waging inside him — the shock, the guilt, the uncertainty. he runs a hand through his messy hair, glancing away for a moment as if trying to process everything.

“i didn’t think...” he starts, then stops himself, swallowing hard. “i didn’t think you felt the same way. i’ve been trying to bury this, y/n. i thought it would just... go away.”

you shake your head. “it hasn’t gone away for me, either. no matter how much i tried, it’s just... always there.”

james leans back slightly, his hands gripping the edge of the bed, knuckles turning white. he looks at you, eyes full of emotion, and for a moment, you see the same longing you’ve been feeling reflected back at you.

“what about sirius?” he asks, his voice laced with pain and hesitation.

“i told him,” you say softly, tears pricking at your eyes. “i told him the truth. he was hurt — of course he was. but i couldn’t keep lying to him. not about this.”

james closes his eyes for a moment, his chest rising and falling as he takes a deep breath. when he opens them again, there’s a flicker of hope, but also fear. “this... this is complicated,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair again. “sirius is my best friend. i don’t want to hurt him.”

“neither do i,” you say quietly, feeling the weight of your words. “but i can’t keep ignoring how i feel, james. and... i don’t think you can either.”

he looks at you for a long moment, his hazel eyes searching yours as if trying to figure out what to do, what to say. finally, he stands, taking a step toward you, his hand reaching out slowly. his fingers brush yours, tentative at first, like he’s afraid to fully close the distance between you.

but when he finally does, when his hand wraps around yours, you feel a rush of warmth, a sense of rightness, despite the chaos swirling around you.

“i’ve wanted this for so long,” james admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “but i was too scared to do anything about it. too scared to hurt anyone.”

you squeeze his hand gently, your heart racing as you take a step closer to him. “me too.”

the tension between you is palpable, the air thick with everything unsaid. his eyes search yours, and for the first time, there’s no hesitation — only a quiet certainty. his hand moves to your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin.

“what do we do now?” james asks, his voice full of vulnerability.

you take a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. “we figure it out. together.”

and then, as if the world had been waiting for this moment, he leans in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that feels like everything you’ve both been holding back. it’s slow at first, tentative, as if you’re both still afraid of the consequences — but then it deepens, and all the longing, all the confusion melts away, leaving only the undeniable pull between you.

when you finally pull back, breathless, james rests his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he exhales softly. “i’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

“me too,” you whisper, your hand resting on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm.

but as the reality of the situation begins to settle in, you both know this isn’t the end — it’s just the beginning of something far more complicated. there’s sirius, the rest of your friends, and the mess that’s about to follow. but for now, in this moment, you allow yourself to feel the relief, the happiness that comes from finally being honest with yourself — and with james.

whatever comes next, you’ll face it together.

[ddejavvu]

james or sirius who refuses to let anyone touch his hair except for reader??? could be nsfw or sfw

"I think it's unfair," James breaks a nearly two minute-long bout of silence, (a rarity on his end), and Sirius groans.

"Not again, mate." Sirius's head turns slightly to stare unimpressed at James, and you tilt it back with one finger, "Just give it up, y'can't mess with my hair."

"But she's just braiding it!" James gushes, pointing at how you're weaving little strands of his hair into two chunky braids down his back, "I can braid! I've been braiding my mum's hair since I could understand the word."

"That's why it's patchy," Sirius leans back to murmur in your ear, and you fumble a pitch black chunk of his hair as you stifle a laugh.

"Hey!" James whacks Sirius on the thigh, "That's for insulting my mum. Come on, mate, she dropped part of it! She's not even good at it!"

Then, because the brown-eyed boy is empathy personified, he turns to you with a sweet smile, "No offense, Y/N. You're good at tons of other things."

"It's useless, Prongs." Remus drawls, piping up from where he'd been silently scanning through his transfiguration notes on his bed, "You're only pissing him off more."

James seems to have forgotten Remus was there, and turns to prop himself up on the side of the man's bed with shiny puppy eyes you're sure got him out of a lot of trouble as a kid.

"What about you, Moony? Yours is getting shaggy," He reaches out for the scruffy strands that line the base of Remus's neck, but the boy stops him with a quick, scarred hand. His grip is strong, and James hisses out a swear under his breath.

"Absolutely not," Remus snaps, "Go braid your own hair, Prongs."

"Fine," James snaps, huffing as he scrambles to his feet, "I will! I'm using your straightener, Pads! I'll give myself the prettiest braid you tossers have ever seen!"

"He's gonna burn his hair off," Sirius bets, throwing a wry glance at Remus who nods, "5 galleons?"

[luna-azzurra]

Ways to hit your readers in the gut

When it comes to writing, there's a profound and mesmerizing way to touch your readers deep within their souls. It's about crafting moments that hit them in the gut, stirring up intense emotions and forging an everlasting connection. Here are some techniques to help you achieve this:

1. Unexpected Loss: Introduce a character who captures hearts, only to snatch them away suddenly. Think of J.K. Rowling's "Harry Potter" series, where the abrupt departure of beloved characters like Sirius Black and Fred Weasley leaves readers shattered, their grief a testament to the power of storytelling.

2. Sacrifice for a Cause: Show a character willingly sacrificing their own happiness or even their life for a greater purpose. Suzanne Collins' "The Hunger Games" portrays Katniss Everdeen's selflessness, volunteering as a tribute to save her sister, evoking empathy and admiration.

3. Unrequited Love: Explore the agony of unrequited love, where hearts ache and souls yearn. Charlotte Brontë's "Jane Eyre" delves into the bittersweet and heart-wrenching tale of Jane's unfulfilled affection for Mr. Rochester, resonating with readers who have experienced the profound depths of unrequited longing.

4. Betrayal by a Loved One: Peel back the layers of trust to reveal the sting of betrayal. George R.R. Martin's "A Song of Ice and Fire" series delivers shocking betrayals that shatter readers' expectations, leaving them stunned and heartbroken alongside the characters.

5. Overcoming Personal Demons: Illuminate the struggle against internal conflicts, be it addiction, guilt, or haunting trauma. Anthony Doerr's "All the Light We Cannot See" explores Werner's moral compass during wartime, captivating readers as they witness his battle for redemption and personal growth.

6. Injustice and Oppression: Shed light on the injustices characters endure, igniting empathy and inspiring change. Harper Lee's "To Kill a Mockingbird" reveals the racial prejudice faced by Tom Robinson, awakening readers to the urgent need for justice and equality.

7. Parent-Child Relationships: Navigate the intricate tapestry of emotions between parents and children. Khaled Hosseini's "The Kite Runner" unearths the complexities of the father-son bond, evoking a myriad of feelings, from longing and regret to hope for reconciliation.

8. Final Farewells: Craft poignant scenes where characters bid farewell, whether due to death or separation. Markus Zusak's "The Book Thief" gifts readers with heartbreaking partings amidst the backdrop of World War II, leaving an indelible mark of loss and the fragile beauty of human connections.

9. Personal Transformation: Illuminate characters' growth through adversity, offering a beacon of hope and inspiration. Charles Dickens' "A Christmas Carol" narrates Ebenezer Scrooge's extraordinary journey from a bitter miser to a beacon of compassion, reminding readers that redemption and personal change are within reach.

10. Existential Questions: Delve into existential themes that provoke deep introspection. Albert Camus' "The Stranger" challenges readers to ponder the meaning of life through Meursault's detached and nihilistic worldview, prompting them to question their own existence.

With these techniques, you have the power to touch your readers' souls, leaving an indelible impression. Remember to weave these moments seamlessly into your narrative, allowing them to enrich your characters and themes. Let your words resonate and ignite emotions, for that is the essence of impactful storytelling.

[muxshwriting]

swimming

Regulus Black x reader

summary: living two lives as you try to navigate through a war. you and regulus have to try not to get caught while breaking down the barriers of both sides || warnings: mentions of pregnancy, mentions of death, there's a war going on || word count: 1114 || masterlist

"Are we sure this will work?"

Regulus holds your hands within his. "Absolutely not. But we have to try."

"Okay."

Regulus reached a hand and knocked on the door of Remus and Sirius’ house, where the Order was currently meeting. A quiet shuffling could be heard inside and footsteps approached the door. It swung open and the person behind took one look at Regulus before thrusting their wand in his face.

"Good to see you too Sirius."

Regulus raised his hands, leaving his wand tucked in his waistband. But he also took a small step sideways, trying to cover you from immediate view.

"You here to kill us Reggie?" Sirius’ tone was sour and cutthroat.

"We’re not here to kill you, any of you. Can we talk?"

Sirius narrowed his eyes, glancing back at you. "Who the hell is she?"

"She’s my- Y/N is-" He stuttered a response, trying to find the best way to word it. "She’s here to help, please?"

"Give me your wands."

Regulus slowly handed his over and you hesitantly did the same. It wasn’t a nice feeling, giving someone else your wand. It was so personal to you, it chose you. You felt defenceless as you entered the house, weaving your way through until you were standing in front of the group.

"What are they doing here?" Someone asked.

"We're trying to get out." Regulus answered for both of you.

Moody scoffed. "There is no out."

"Exactly." Regulus stated. "We're doing what we can and then we're going to die."

"And when we're 'dead' we'll be free. We could go to France, Northern Italy maybe. Anywhere but here." You spoke up for the first time and Sirius’ eyes seemed to soften as you did but his expression remained serious.

You remembered him from school, a year older than you but infamous throughout Hogwarts. No matter how estranged him and Regulus had become, he always cared, deep down.

Remus asked the question everyone was wondering. "Why now? We're years into this war and now you chose to help us, why?"

Regulus glanced at you, squeezing your hand in reassurance. "We've got a future to think about. If we don't get out now, we never will."

Sirius' expression grew darker, if possible. "Are you serious? You're having in a kid in the middle of a war?"

"We weren't trying to."

He scoffed. "Clearly."

The anger bubbled inside you, threatening to boil over but you held it down. He didn't truly understand your situation, he didn't understand. You had to focus on the forward motion, keeping your head above water. The current would carry you where you needed to go but you had to guide yourself around the rocks and over the falls safely.

"We have a lot of information that will be useful for you all." You finally say, changing the subject. "Just hear us out."

"What kind of information?"

Regulus stepped up. "I can give you a list of Ministry officials that the Dark Lord has in his pocket, some under Imperius curse and some not. There's going to be an assault on one of muggleborn safe havens later this week, targeting those who protect others."

"It's the safe haven in Norfolk, attacking on Friday evening." You supply the specific details to the group who seem to pale further each second. “Six death eaters, they expect it to fall easily.”

"There are death eater recruitment programs wired into the fabric of Hogwarts education, specifically in Slytherin. People may not truly believe in the cause but they don't resist it enough to fully fight against it. For lots of purebloods, it's unthinkable to do what Sirius did, fight against his whole family and do the opposite to what they were raised to do." Regulus explained. "But there are plenty of weaker members who would abandon ship at the slightest notion of it beginning to sink. If you can get those people to leave, the dark forces have much less power than you realise."

"What are going to do now?" Moddy asked, his voice growling and deep.

"No one knows we came here. We'll return home, wait for the call and continue our lives as normal. No one can suspect anything."

"You-Know-Who is a skilled legilimens." He counters.

"Me and Reggie have been perfecting occlumency for many years in preparation for this. No one will know." You reassure them. "Even if they did find out, they'll kill us in an instant. You won't feel any repurcussions from it."

"This can only backfire on us."

When you and Reg get home, the air is palpable. There’s a nervousness between the two of you that you’d never felt before and it only increases the weight on your chest. It feels like a riptide pulling you out to sea. You can fight against it but it will only tire you out and drag you out either way.

"Reggie?"

He hums in response, asking without words.

"Do you think we did the right thing?"

"Yeah." He sighs. "Yeah, I think we did. But we’re not doing it for us, we’re doing it for them." He loops his arms around your waist and holds you close.

"For them." You agree. "I noticed you didn’t mention the horcruxes."

He tenses beside you and you regret bringing up the subject.

"Sorry-"

"Don’t. Don’t apologise." He says. "I don’t know if I should ever tell them."

"Reggie!"

"Would they even believe me?"

"Of course they would." You try and tell him. "We would make them, make them listen, make them believe. It’s the only way we can kill Him for good. Please Reg, we have to tell them at some point."

He nods silently, pressing a kiss into your forehead before pulling away. "Okay. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Regulus didn’t sleep that night, he hardly ever did. The ceiling of your bedroom had become a familiar sight, illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the crack in the curtain. His mind ran at a million miles per minute, scheming for the future but telling no one of his plans.

He would hunt His horcuxes by himself, he didn’t want to involve you. When you were close enough to the Order, he would write a letter to Sirius and abandon you in the middle of the night. He didn’t want to leave you, but the war would give him no choice. Regulus would go to the cave with Kreacher, he’d probably die but there would be a fraction of evil destroyed.

You would hate him forever, never forgive him for leaving you but it was worth to change the tide of the war. Regulus would make it worth it. There was no other choice.

[marauder-misprint]

Glass

Sirius Black x Keeper!gn!reader

Microfic - 980 words

cw: injury, semi-fluff

After getting hit on the shoulder with a bludger and somehow managing to not fall off your broom, the Quidditch match both dragged on and went by in a blur. Streaks of red and yellow passed in front of you, standing out yet blending in with the bright blue sky behind them. You were glad that you weren’t Gryffindor’s seeker. With how much pain you were in, you wouldn't have been able to catch the snitch, let alone spot it. The tears that involuntarily fell down your face blurred your vision as you hovered in front of the goal posts. You try to focus on the game going on around you, but it’s no use. You instead focus on staying on your broom until one of the seekers ends it, hoping your team is able to defend enough where you won’t need to block a Hufflepuff’s shot.

One the seekers is finally successful. As soon as you hear the whistle blow and cheers erupt from the stands, you’re essentially in a nosedive. You hurry to the locker room to put away your broom, not bothering to celebrate with the rest of Gryffindor on the pitch. You repeatedly mutter “ow” with every movement of your left arm. You have one thing on your mind once your broom is safely in your locker: Getting to Madam Pomfrey so she can put you out of your misery.

Sirius spots you as you exit the locker room and within a moment, he’s sprinting to be at your side. Not that he had intentionally been looking for you, but your absence among the rest of the team still on the pitch seemed to stick out like a sore thumb.

“You alright?” he asks slightly out of breath once he catches up to you.

“I will be,” you answer through gritted teeth.

You knew he saw you get hit; everyone in the stands had. There was also about a 50% chance he heard the crack of the bone that accompanied the hit, based on where he had been sitting. The pain in your shoulder is a dull, throbbing ache that stings sharply whenever your arm moves. You lengthen your steps as you weave through the throng of students headed back to the castle. Sirius has no trouble keeping up. But rather than simply follow you to the hospital wing, he decides he has a better plan.

“Wait,” he says with a reached out hand, at which you slow down but don’t stop.

He quickens his pace briefly so he’s right next to you. Then he attempts to pick you up bridal style while you are mid-step. You let out a yelp of pain as your bad arm is wrapped around his neck while the rest of your body falls in ragdoll style.

“What are you doing?” you hiss through the pain coursing through your shoulder.

“Going to carry you…” he replies, still trying to pick you up.

 The students around you start to give the two of you a bubble of space and sideways glances. Murmurs of confusion and annoyance can barely be heard over the rumbling of hundreds of footsteps.

“I got hit in the shoulder. I can walk,” you snap, pulling yourself out of Sirius’ grip and righting yourself. 

You flex the muscles in your face to relax your expression. You walk quicker than you had been in the direction of the hospital wing; Sirius follows, not one to be left behind. And if you’re being honest, you’re not sure why he’s coming with. You are perfectly capable of making it to the wing yourself, and if you were alone, you’d be swearing under your breath at the pain. You don’t, since he’s right there. You don’t want to encourage another attempt to carry you.

A quick examination by Madam Pomfrey tells you that you’ve broken a bone and have major bruising. It’s nothing some magic and an overnight stay in the hospital wing can’t fix. She informs you to pick a bed and she’ll over shortly with some potions and skelegrow. 

Your footsteps, along with Sirius’, echo through the room. It’s without a doubt the cleanest room in all of Hogwarts and you can smell it. The tall windowed walls are lined with cots, uncomfortably thin mattresses covered with equally thin, scratchy sheets. You pick one in the middle. Sirius puts his hands on your waist and your eyes go wide at the sudden contact. 

“Dear Merlin, what are you doing, Black?” you ask, agitation dripping from your voice.

“Helping you up?” he offers meekly.

“I am not made of glass! I can do it myself!”

He backs up, hands raised in front of himself in defense. You wince as you climb gingerly into the bed, having failed at your attempt to avoid putting any pressure at all on your injured arm. 

“I was just…” he starts.

“Trying to help, yeah. I know.” Your voice is tired and your expression is a mix of irritation and pain. You just want the potions from Madam Pomfrey so your arm will stop hurting.

Sirius purses his lips. You’re annoyed, but it’s an annoyance he recognized. It’s the same annoyance that Remus has around every full moon. Remus knows his friends are only trying to be helpful but the pain he’s in causes him to lash out. At least, Sirius thinks, you haven’t said anything hurtful toward him. 

“Do you… do you mind the company?” he asks after a few moments of silence. 

You give him a pitiful glance. Madam Pomfrey still isn’t here with the potions. You sigh.

“Only if you can distract me from this goddamn pain.”

A smile breaks across Sirius’ face as he pulls up a chair to the side of your bed. He is more than willing to recount a prank he pulled on the Slytherins with the help of James. 

[soulfullives]

Jayson Greene; “Once More We Saw The Stars” / William Ernest Henley; "Invictus" / Humbert Wolfe;" The Fiddle and the Bow" / Ingmar Bergman, from a letter to Liv Ullmann / Jonathan Safran Foer; “Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close”

[fourmoony]

May I go on a 𝐏𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐞 with Sirius and #6 if you’re feeling it <3 (I can’t get over how fun this celebration is!! Love you regardless of whether you’re feeling this or not haha)

pls don't stop requesting i'm having so much fun writing these lmao!!!! thanks angel, you're too sweet ♡︎

774 words | cw: none

Sirius is a ball of energy as he weaves in and out of stalls, a bag of cinnamon cookies in one hand and a caramel hot chocolate in the other. He has a pumpkin woollen hat on that Hope, Remus' mum, knit him last year, his hair falling in wild curls out of it. He looks happy. Undoubtedly so. It makes your chest warm, even if the rest of you is absolutely freezing.

You assume he's too excited to notice your sniffling, but when you hit the fifth time in two minutes, Sirius whirls on you to find you trying to wiggle some feeling back into your nose. Your cheeks redden, even more so than the autumn air has already made them. You've been caught.

When you'd told Sirius about the autumn themed market in town, he'd made immediate plans to take you. What you hadn't accounted for, was how high maintenance he'd be about the whole thing. This morning, when you arrived at his apartment, he'd practically reamed you out for not choosing appropriate attire. Apparently, stylish was not the vibe and "keeping all of your lovely limbs from getting frostbite" is.

Sue you, for wanting to look cute.

He'd rambled on for ten minutes about how cold you were going to be and only allowed you to leave the house when you agreed to wear the matching mittens to Sirius' hat.

"Don't even say it, Sirius." You warn him.

Sirius holds his hands up in mock defence, his smile equally as goading as it is knowing. "I'm sure I have no idea what you mean, doll face." He quips, stuffing the cookies into his jacket pocket and using his now free hand to poke at your cheek.

You try to bat him away whilst fighting off an amused smile.

"Oh, my!" Sirius beams, "Your cheeks are as cold as ice cubes," his pointer finger boops your nose, "Nose, too!"

"I'm fine." You pout, childishly.

It's rare, that Sirius is wholly right about something. You know he's going to milk this all day, now.

"If only you had a handsome, smart, caring, wonderful, boyfriend who could have pre-warned you that this might happen!" Sirius exclaims. Passers by eye you both sceptically, but you're used to the attention with Sirius - always the loudest in any room - Black.

"Okay, enough. I'm fine, really." You shoulder Sirius on, who's still muttering about how amazing he is at predicting the future.

The next few stalls are torturous. Your face only gets colder, your sniffling louder. Sirius refrains from goading you further, but seems to reach the end of his tether when he catches you blowing into your hands and rubbing them on your nose.

He sighs, pulling you to the side and out of the way of foot traffic.

"Okay, give me your face." He says, bluntly.

A startled laugh tumbles from your lips, "What?"

"Give me your face, I'm going to warm it up."

You stare at him perplexed, "Sirius-"

"No, your nose is practically blue. I love you, but I think I'm just vain enough to be less attracted to you if you don't have a nose." Sirius takes your face in his hands.

Your eyes go wide, desperate to fact check whether your boyfriend would actually love you less without a nose, but Sirius already has his entire mouth around your nose. His teeth nip the skin a little teasingly and you huff, resigned to the fate of having a slightly abnormal boyfriend.

You're glad he's pulled you away from the crowds as he blows hot air directly onto your nose. The warmth is welcomed, but his method is arguably questionable.

When he's done, he pulls back and gives you a once over. Then, he removes his scarf and wraps it in bundles around your neck. He presses a final kiss to the tip of your nose, which, thanks to him, you can feel.

"See, fixed it. Nose safe. Lets get some treacle tarts and head home." Sirius says, like he hasn't just tried to eat your nose.

It's a little much to keep up with, so you allow him to guide you, rather stunned, along to the next treat stall. It's not until you're home, in fuzzy pyjamas, with a mug of hot chocolate that you remember to ask, "Would you actually love me less without a nose?"

Sirius looks over, a little alarmed, with a mouth full of cinnamon cookie. He swallows, shrugs, devilish smile on full display. "As long as I'm here to save you, we'll never know."

You scoff, fuzzy socked foot reaching out to kick his thigh.

[moonstruckme]

Ok James but him and his slytherin girlfriend seem to come out of nowhere and the boys are supportive but are more mad at James for not telling them? Idk I loved your other fic SO MUCH

Thanks for requesting <3

part 1

cw: mention of injury, no details or anything though

James Potter x Slytherin!reader ♡ 1.5k words

You hesitate outside the doorway to the infirmary at the raised voices coming from inside. 

You don’t need to be here, strictly speaking. James told you his injury wasn’t bad, and he has his friends to help him if he needs it, but…you can’t settle yourself down. You hadn’t liked the way he’d limped off the field, nor the tiny grimace on his face when Sirius had wrapped a bracing arm under his shoulders. It would be just like James to downplay how hurt he is to make you feel better, and the longer the game had gone on without him the more your guts twisted themselves into knots over the idea that he was in pain. 

You’d seethed at yourself and your stupid soft heart all the way to the infirmary, where now you’re frozen just outside like a coward. Something inside you is coiled tight with tension at the idea of going to see James Potter, on purpose and in public, even though that’s dumb because now everyone at Hogwarts knows about the two of you anyway. Your sappy display on the quidditch pitch made sure of that. But now that you have official and widely-known claim to the girlfriend title, you have just as much right to see him as anyone else. You shove your anxiety back into your stomach where it belongs and open the door. 

As soon as you’re inside, the voices become clearer. “—like this isn’t a big deal. The Prophet’s going to be all over the two of you by tomorrow, and we had to find out with every other fucking bloke at the school!”

“Pads, you don’t think I would have told you if I could?” James sounds exhausted, and something mutinous throbs in your heart. It’s followed quickly by the more familiar twinge of irritation at the use of those moronic nicknames they all have. “She made me promise not to tell anyone, including the both of you.” 

They’re talking about you. Of course they’re talking about you. What else could possibly be more important after James has fallen a good twenty feet off his broom than his dating life? This is why you hadn’t wanted to tell people. Hogwarts wears away at private lives like dementors at souls, and the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin is too strong for your relationship with James to have any hope of remaining untainted once the gossip mill got ahold of it. 

Your instincts are screaming at you to turn around and leave before they catch sight of you, but you force yourself to keep walking. If you start letting what people think about you and James affect you now, you’ll never be able to get past it. 

Remus is the first to spot you, going still as if you’ve come to hex him, but James’ face splits into a lopsided grin that has the knots in your gut loosening very slightly. 

“Especially you,” you say to Sirius as you brush past him, perching by James' pillow and weaving your fingers into his curls. There’s a wrap around his middle. It’s very hard to appear calm and blasé when you feel like you’re going to rupture something if he doesn't promise you he’s okay right this instant. “You’d have had all of Gryffindor talking about us within an hour.” 

Sirius bristles but visibly shoves his temper aside, his voice matching your coolness as he says, “If I’d told anyone, Y/L/N, it would have been to inquire about whether anyone’s noticed you gathering ingredients for amortentia recently. James doesn’t keep things from us. Artificial infatuation is the only explanation for why he’d tolerate you and your secrets.” 

“Oi,” James says, but you pat his head placatingly. You can fight your own battles. 

“That how you got this one?” you jut your chin towards Remus, who’s looking somewhat entertained as he watches the two of you spar. “If I’m ever in need of the recipe, Black, you’ll be the first person I come to, but I don’t need to resort to such measures myself.” 

Sirius glowers at you, and James sets his hand on your shoulder just as Remus wraps a pacifying arm around his boyfriend. “Alright, I think that’s enough,” the taller boy says in his usual calm manner, and though Sirius is still tensed for a fight, he allows himself to be drawn into Remus’ side.

James nods in agreement. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys, really. I thought I’d get a chance to before everyone found out, but…” He turns up his palms helplessly. “Things didn’t go as planned.” 

“We’ll get over it,” Remus says, Sirius quietly fuming beside him. “Won’t we, love?”

Sirius looks up at Remus' face, which is clearly a mistake, because he softens like butter in the sun. “Yeah, yeah, just gimme a bit,” he grumbles halfheartedly. “Anything to keep our Prongsie happy, right?”

James beams, so clearly relieved at the settlement of the conflict that you feel a bit guilty for participating in it. He kisses you on the cheek, chuckling against your skin. “You stink.” 

“Some of us stuck around to play the whole game,” you reply.

“Ouch,” James says, but he’s grinning. “Couldn’t really help that, could I?”

You give him a look to let him know you haven’t forgotten how his negligence had gotten him hurt. “Debatable.” 

You hear Remus chuckle but don’t take your eyes off James’ face, inspecting it for signs of the pain you suspect he’s hiding. “How bad is it really?” you ask, softening your voice even though there’s no chance of his friends not hearing you. 

James worries his lip, big brown eyes looking into yours guiltily. “Pomphrey says I broke three ribs and bruised my tailbone pretty badly. Minor concussion, too, but nothing serious.” 

Sounds serious enough to you. You ghost a hand over the back of his head as if you’ll be able to find and fix his hurt. He leans into your palm though, so it’s not for nothing. “I’m sorry I walked away out there,” you all but whisper. “I should have stayed with you.” 

James eyebrows pinch together. “Hey, sweetheart, it’s okay,” he promises just as softly. He knows what it costs you to talk like this in front of people, like you’re turning yourself inside out for them to judge and stab at as they please, but James has no such reservations. He dots a kiss, feather-light, at the top of your cheekbone, wrapping an arm around you protectively. “Thanks for coming, I mean it.” 

You clear your throat. “Yeah, and in my fucking quidditch gear,” you say in your normal voice, attempting to banish the heavy mood. As if your heart isn’t still beating, hummingbird-fast and fragile, in your throat. “We both need to change and shower, and then you should rest. Did Pomphrey say you could leave?”

James nods, still looking at you like you’ve cracked open in his hands (he might be right; it feels like you have, and it wouldn’t even be the first time today). He rubs your upper arm affectionately, but his voice is easygoing when he says, “Yup, I’m good to go.” 

Sirius steps forward, as though to remind the two of you that he is, in fact, also present. “Great. We’ll walk you back to the room.” 

You turn to him, not quite ready for your time with James to be up and aching for the opportunity to dote on him in private. “That’s okay, I can take him.” 

Sirius’ eyes narrow. “You can’t even get into our dorms.” 

“Please, like Gryffindor’s riddles are so perplexing.” 

“I don’t need an escort,” James interjects. He pushes himself up with a grimace. 

You halt him with your hands on his shoulders and Remus says, “Don’t be stupid, Prongs, you can barely walk.” 

“I’ve got him,” you say firmly. Sirius stares you down, but you don’t flinch from his stony gaze. You know he doesn’t trust you. You don’t think he’d willingly trust any Slytherin. Since you’ve been at Hogwarts, the talk in your house has always been that Sirius Black shuns his family because they’re all Slytherins. Although James assures you there’s more to the story than that, it’s still obvious to anyone that he considers his friends his true family. He won’t entrust just anyone with James’ safety. But maybe that’s one thing you can agree upon. 

He must see something of this in your face, because after a minute Sirius relents, rolling his eyes. “Fine,” he says. “I wanted to stop by the kitchens anyway.”

James is looking between the two of you curiously, aware that something has transpired but not quite sure what. 

You don’t give Sirius a chance to change his mind. “Alright,” you say, gripping James' forearms and helping him to stand. “Let’s go, pretty boy.” 

James drapes his arm across your shoulders gamely, and the two of you start out the door. “I don’t think that’s the insult you think it is.”

[cherryslyce]

Second Son (I) | Regulus Black

Series Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.

Part II / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x Gender Neutral Reader

Notes: Not canon compliant, cursing, Kreacher is a little shit

Following the sudden death of Cedric Diggory months before, the magical world flipped on its nose. The Daily Prophet pumped out towers of articles denouncing The Boy Who Lived, dubbing Harry as The Boy Who Lied.

Clever. Seriously, people actually subscribe to read that shit?

Surprisingly, Dumbledore forbid any form of contact with Harry during the summer--Hermione and Ron threw quite the fit after receiving the news. The most unsurprising reaction came from the ex-convict himself, Sirius Black.

Azkaban somehow became even less appealing after having to sit through his meltdown at the dinner table.

Who knew dementors could twist your spirit so far as to make petulant meltdowns a regular occurrence.

If his word was anything to go by, he got the better end of the deal compared to his murderous, psychopathic cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange.

Entirely reassuring.

The inability to rant to Harry via letters, deal with Ron's whining, engage Hermione in her tangents, or sit around Sirius left you with no choice but to venture around on your own.

There was virtually no chance of running into anybody but the twins (who seriously needed their apparating privileges revoked) on your little escapade.

The hallways were dusty and suffocating from the sheer amount of unkempt gothic vintage furniture lining the perimeter. While an uncanny atmosphere of suffering blanketed every centimeter of the walls.

Wandering aimlessly, a sudden pulse of magic combined with your reckless compulsion steers your attention towards a tall, black door. The crystal door knob was dull in the dim light, the keyhole and backing rusting with age.

Clearly, no one has gone into the room in years--decades, even.

The room was located on the third floor of the house, far away from the bedrooms the Weasleys were sleeping in and even farther away from the restless master of the house (who was pacing like a maniac in the kitchen for the nth hour straight).

What's the worse that can happen?

Famous last words (Harry's impulsivity was definitely rubbing off on you).

The door put up quite a fight when you tried to twist the knob, creaking in protest before finally giving way as you pushed with your entire body.

You stumbled in, nearly choking on the cloud of dust that danced up into the air with your ever so graceful entrance. Taking a look around, you came to one conclusion.

The room was utterly boring.

Boxes lined nearly every inch of the floor, the wallpaper peeling and dragging down the walls, and the small window across the room was clouded by dirt. A lone ray of light illuminated a small black dresser table against the wall. Curiously, you carefully weaved around the boxes on the floor and padded towards the dresser.

Just as you reached to pull one of the drawers open, an unsettling prickle ran down your spine. Instinctively grasping at your wand, you spun around only to be met with the opposite wall and more dust.

Quickly scanning the room again, your breath caught in your throat as you locked eyes with a pair of narrowed ones.

It was a bloody portrait.

“Who are you? Who let you in here?”

The boy in the painting seemed only a few years older than you with pin-straight posture and sharp features to match. His voice echoed with firmness, a voice that seemed used to commanding respect and attention.

But Merlin and Morgana…he was divine. So divine that even Draco Malfoy would lose his composure if someone this attractive showed up at Hogwarts.

“No one...I'm no one. Who are you? You look…er-familiar.”

Your last words came out as more of a question as you slowly drank up every detail of his features.

The boy’s eyes narrowed further into a glare, seemingly starting to become irate with your dodgy answer. Before he could retort, a familiar pop sounded through the room and before you could even comprehend what was happening, a familiar house elf was barreling through the boxes and dropping in front of the portrait.

“Master Regulus! Kreacher has failed you! Disgraceful Master Sirius has stolen everything! Oh my poor Mistress!”

The boy seemed taken aback by the sudden intrusion and the rather emotional outburst from Kreacher.

Seriously, could portraits take that many steps back?

Watching for a few more moments with wide eyes, it seemed that nothing the boy was saying was registering to the inconsolable elf.

Going to give the elf and Regulus some privacy, you scampered away and closed the door with much effort and an audible huff.

As you started walking away, a sudden bang nearly snatched your soul out of your body. Spinning around, confusion washed over you as Kreacher struggled to clamber off of the worn carpet, a disgruntled noise echoing around the hall.

Kreacher had just flew into the wall. Did the elf lose some screws and try to become a part of the bloody wallpaper?

“Kreacher? What happened?!”

Before the snippy elf could reply, loud footsteps pounded nearby and a disheveled Sirius bounded up from the staircase, shooting a look of mixed disbelief and contempt at his elf.

“What the hell?! Kreacher what are you doing?! You can’t just leave when I’m telling you to do something!”

Feeling, again, like an intruder to a conversation, you shuffled against the wall and towards the stairs as the house elf snarled at the older man, briefly eyeing you with confusion. Raising your eyebrows, you watch as the elf shoots glances behind him towards the room before popping away from a screaming Sirius.

Rolling your eyes, you say a silent farewell to the mysterious room only to notice the door was no longer there. The area where the door should have been was replaced with nothing more than peeling wall and a dusty wall lamp.

Did you just hallucinate the last 10 minutes of your life?

Apparently not. A few days had passed since your strange encounter with Regulus Black in the disappearing storage room, and you had somehow gained the undivided attention of Kreacher.

It seemed the barmy elf held some newfound admiration for you since you somehow reunited him with the young master he actually liked.

You were nose-deep in a book about Ancient Property Magic from the Black Library when the elf hesitantly approached you.

"Kreacher has a question for the young blood-traitor."

What a punk.

Placing the book off to the side, you rub the bridge of your nose in exasperation.

How did Hermione go on for hours reading in these conditions?

All the words were blending together and your eyes stung from all the damn dust in the house.

"Hello Kreacher. What do you need?"

"How did the young blood-traitor find Master Regulus? Kreacher doesn't know how Master Regulus is here...Kreacher has failed...Master Sirius is a lawless traitor undeserving--"

"Woah! Okay...while I am not too sure about how exactly I found that room. I suppose it is a good thing you have such er--apprehensions about Sirius. I don't think he would appreciate me breaking into one of the rooms here."

Which was entirely true.

Sirius was off his rocker. The combination of being away from his godson, listening to his mother screech every morning, and having to deal with Molly fussing over everyone was working him up the wall.

You felt almost bad for not telling Sirius about Regulus, but he had plenty on his plate and it felt nice to have something to yourself--your own little summer secret.

Granted, it was more accurate to describe it as a dead-pureblood-heir summer quest. Though, not as weird as giving a troll brain damage in your first year at Hogwarts.

Suddenly, you had a great idea.

"Hey Kreacher, want to go exploring with me?"

The house elf was skeptical for most of your trek upstairs, and he looked positively gleeful when you managed to somehow summon the secret door.

Apparently, Kreacher was magically expelled from the room the moment you left. So you were somehow the key to accessing the missing Young Master.

Before you could even caution the elf or come up with a speech for Regulus, the little thing was already flying for the door knob.

"You are back."

Regulus looked all but the same, except more tired than suspicious this time around.

"Yes. I hope you don't mind that I'm here. I have brought Kreacher as an olive branch to show that I am of no threat."

The boy's eyes flicker towards the unusually silent elf, and then pierces you again. Something akin to amusement danced in his eyes and you were almost offended.

You were no Harry Potter, but you weren't magically inept.

"Answer my question from last time. Who are you?"

"My name is Y/N. I don't know how or why this room exists, and it doesn't seem like Sirius has any knowledge of it. But from the looks of it, I'm the only one who can find this room."

"Sirius? He is alive then?"

Your lip quirks at the remark and you turn your gaze to the ceiling, "Yes, but he isn't quite himself".

"What?"

"Azkaban tends to have that effect."

"What?"

"You've missed a lot, Regulus. Like a lot. You're different from what I've heard though, pleasantly so. After all you haven't called me a foul, loathsome blood traitor. Nor have you tried to preach blood purity to me yet."

Regulus considers you for a few moments, eyes imperceptibly running over your expression. It is only for the briefest moment that you see something comparable to respect shine in his eyes.

Kreacher shifts uncomfortably and looked ready to butthead you, but Regulus interrupts the sudden blanket of silence.

"Kreacher, could you give us some privacy?"

The elf looked ready to vehemently protest in a manner similar to how he denies Sirius, but seemed to remember that he actually gave a flying handle about Regulus‘ opinion of him.

"If you wish, Master Regulus. Kreacher will be outside."

The elf pops away and you turn to maintain steady eye contact with the boy, becoming more intrigued with every passing second.

"You are right. I haven't tried to indoctrinate you or denounce your beliefs. I have been here for a long blur of time. I have had the space to formulate my own thoughts and opinions."

"Oh? A death eater finding salvation and seeing the light. Of course it'd be a feat only achievable through death."

"You speak as though we--they are still at large. Are there still death eaters around?" The disbelief flickering across his face spurred you to entertain him with an answer despite your former apprehension towards him.

"Yes. Many are well and alive. Lucius Malfoy prides himself in being able to circumvent the law and maintain his job in the Ministry despite his allegiance to the Dark Lord. Not that it will do him any good. From what I can deduce, the Dark Lord is not very forgiving."

Regulus looks like he's been suckerpunched in the gut, grimacing at every word that passes through your lips.

"You are right. Lucius will be punished for his treachery. I had hoped that the world would be rid of the Dark Lord after my death."

Confusion passes through you in waves as an indecipherable emotion mars his face.

So he wasn't a valiant supporter of the Dark Lord? Then it would seem the rumors that he was killed by the Dark Lord or his followers have some credibility.

"Well, the Dark Lord was gone, so to speak, for a while at least. It is only as of a few months ago did he come back in full form."

"I see."

"You don't seem surprised. Well, he killed one of my friends and traumatized my best friend so I hope you'll give me permission to wring his neck."

"You're quite vulgar."

"I am a saint compared to your brother, and my vulgarity is very much justified."

Regulus hums in understanding and you could almost see a miniscule smile stretching at his lips.

"Well, for your sake, I hope you never have to come face to face with the Dark Lord."

"I don't have much of a choice, he's been trying to eviscerate my friends and I since we were 11."

"Ah...well it would appear that you are to join me in the afterlife soon then."

"You'd like that wouldn't you? But I have no plans on dying anytime soon."

"Shame."

"Sod off. You're fine on your own...right?"

Dumb question, the man is literally stuck inside a painting in an abandoned secret room.

"It does get a bit lonely. But it is only the punishment for my sins."

"Well, I think you're quite swell. So don't worry, I have the whole entire summer to bother you. Think of it as an added layer of punishment."

"If you insist." His words conveyed exasperation, but the boyish smile that lit up his face told you a completely different story.

You couldn't help but admire his expression, committing it to memory because you were sure that his smiles were a rarity.

Pretty.

Wow. You were absolutely screwed.

[uhhlifeig]

Zonko's Joke Shop - Nov. 11 - word count: 261 - @wolfstarmicrofic

Zonko’s Joke Shop was a kaleidoscope of colors, noise, and mischief. 

It was the perfect place for Hogwarts students to let their inner children run wild, and Sirius Black was practically bouncing with excitement as he dragged Remus Lupin into the shop.

“Pads, we’ve been here twice this week already,” Remus sighed.

“We can never have too many supplies, Moony,” Sirius declared, holding his boyfriend’s hand tight as they weaved through the bustling crowd.

James Potter was already elbow-deep in a barrel of quills that shouted insults when used. He looked up with a grin as they approached. “Oi, Moony! You better keep an eye on him, or we’ll end up with Zonko’s entire inventory in the common room by tonight.”

“Not that you’d complain,” the werewolf said with a wry smile, nodding at the growing collection of items in James’ arms.

Peter Pettigrew appeared from behind a shelf of enchanted whoopee cushions, balancing a box of Filibuster’s Fireworks in his arms. “Do we need these?”

“Peter, Peter, Peter,” Sirius said, draping an arm over Remus’s shoulders, “When do we not?”

The tallest boy rolled his eyes. “And by ‘we,’ you mean you and James. Let’s be honest here.”

“Moony, you wound me! Don’t you want to see McGonagall’s face when her quill starts insulting her hair?”

Before Remus could respond, James burst into laughter. “I can’t wait! Remember last time, when she charmed your robes to be shimmery for a week?”

“I rocked it, to be honest,” Sirius said, eyes twinkling. “What did you think of it, Moons?”

“...no comment.”

[yallthemwitches]

October Country

“Lily, I love you.”

Her eyes go wide. She starts to jerk around in his grasp, a panic setting in.

“Sirius, what are you doing—”

“No, Merlin, that came out wrong—sorry, let me try again— I love you because you have made James finally shut up.”

Written for @jilytoberfest Day 2, Prompt: A: “If anyone does X I’m going to love them forever.” B: Does X.

Rated T

Read Below or on AO3!

“Moony, it’s still October right?”

“I’m not a calendar, mate—but yes.”

“Like October—Quidditch season October?”

“Did it really take you seven years to put that timeline together?”

Sirius turns his head to either side of the room. He is sitting at the same desk as every year, Peter and Remus flanking him like always. Nothing has moved out of place since third, besides that the boys have grown taller with four years passed, hair a bit more wild looking.

“Then why the fuck is it so quiet?”

His answer sits just behind him. Sirius leans his chair back to investigate. Evans has had the same seat for years. In earlier times, she cursed the days she would have to share such close proximity to them, but now as she scribbles notes lightly on to her parchment, she looks like the paragon of happiness. James busies himself with tucking his face into the crook of her neck. Her hair barely shrouds his lips pressing firmly to her pulse point then traveling up behind her ear. A smile curls at her lips and every so often a small squeak bubbles forth, causing James to reappear from the veil of auburn to press his nose against her cheek and say something low under his breath. Her face, perpetually flushed these days, swats at him but with no clear attempt to deter. 

“Oi, Prongs!” Sirius isn’t making an attempt to be subtle. His best mate emerges once more from his girlfriend's neck and flashes his mate a smile that looks drunken and dazed—a look he has been sporting more and more since he and Lily became official a week prior. 

“Isn’t it quidditch season?” 

“Christ Pads, you’d think seven years with me would make you catch on to things like that.”

A muggle swear, another new and interesting development. Lily seems pleased to hear it, halting her notes to poke a finger into James’ cheek, taunting him in a soft, teasing voice. James turns and makes a playful bite at her retreating hand, eliciting another shriek that was fast becoming a new staple in Lily’s vocal repertoire. 

Sirius ignores them. 

“---You just haven’t been talking about it so much.”

“Really? Haven’t noticed, I’m sure I’ve been—” but James takes a reflective silence, then shrugs. 

“Guess I’ve been thinking about other things.”

Out in the corridor, James wastes no time pinning Lily to the stone wall right outside the classroom. The boys hover from afar for a moment, sizing up whether this round would be a quick snog, or one that they would have to abandon their mate for until he resurfaced. 

“Hey Evans—I need a word!”

Peter and Remus might be too timid or modest to ever try to interact with the couple when they were in such a state, but Sirius had an incredible passion for intercepting people’s private time. 

“---’m busy Black.” Lily attempts to make eye contact, but James’ hands are already weaving back through her hair, pulling her face back up to his. 

“Prongs, unhand your girlfriend, I have business to discuss.”

James’ head snaps back to cock an eyebrow. 

“What kind of business do you have with her that doesn’t include me?”

Sirius shrugs. “Well I was hoping to get a full performance report on your snogging capabilities, but I think I’ve already compiled enough unsolicited evidence on my own.”

Lily laughs, using it as leverage to wiggle her way out from under James’ grasp, inciting him to make a disappointed whine and stare pointedly at his mate.

“Fuck Prongs, don’t look at me like that—it was a joke. I’ll return your precious girlfriend to you in a sec, I just need to have a few words.”

He leads Lily out into the side courtyard, leaving James to stare into their retreating backs.

“I still haven’t sorted out if it’s cute or alarming how doting he can be,” Lily says lightly, more to herself than to anyone. 

“Your words.” Sirius snorts.

Once far enough out of earshot, Sirius whips around, startling Lily enough to jump. He places his hands on Lily’s shoulders, lowering his head to look straight into her eyes. He can tell she is uncomfortable but doesn’t pull back.

“Lily, I love you.”

Her eyes go wide. She starts to jerk around in his grasp, a panic setting in.

“Sirius, what are you doing—”

“No, Merlin, that came out wrong—sorry, let me try again— I love you because you have made James finally shut up.”

She stops her struggle. Her eyes search his face, mouth sloped into a frown. Sirius just returns it with a warm grin. 

“You’re mental Black, right fucked in the head, you know that right?”

Sirius snaps his head back in a laugh.

“What else is new.”

“You care to elaborate?”

“It’s quidditch season,” his tone imbues an obviousness that is not there.

“---why is this feeling like I’m back in ancient runes?” 

Sirius huffs, dropping his hands. Lily folds her arms against her chest with her eyebrows disappearing past her fringe. 

“Work with me, Evans. Quidditch season. Quidditch Season. Every year your stupid bloke of a boyfriend spends this time of year never shutting up about the damn sport. The stats, team performance, new strategies… ”

“Of course he does, he’s the captain. So what?”

“That’s my point! Now that he’s too busy snogging you, he doesn’t have time to talk about it.”

Lily blinks, eyes narrowing.

“So you are telling me you love me because I’m a…a distraction.”

Sirius frowns slightly in a moment of thought. “Yeah, reckon I am.”

“Goodbye Black.”

Lily turns on her heels, heading back towards an idle James who had spent the whole interaction pretending not to be spying behind one of the stone arches. 

“All I’m saying is—you can do whatever you want to him as long as you keep it up until the season passes.”

 His scream echoes far enough to turn the heads of lingering students. Even from afar, he can see James’ brow furrow, clearly confused and annoyed. Lily just turns back, her laugh chases the remaining echo of his words. 

“Will do. Thanks for the permission.”