#sirius black x original character

[howlyourmelancholy]

Like A Virgin

summary: she was a virgin. and he wasn't. sirius have a reputation. oh, merlin, did he had a reputation.

pairing: young!sirius x ofc (Emalia)

warnings: loss of virginity. fingering. oral (fem receiving). heavy making-out. unprotected sex. multiple orgasms.

words: 7.8k

a/n: emalia is my own original character. please keep in mind that these characters are portrayed at sixteen years old, the age of consent in my country. this got away from me and ended up a bit longer than intended. i hope you enjoy!

It was just past midday when the rumble of a motorcycle disturbed the peace of the day. It was an out-of-the-ordinary sound for the neighbourhood, one that enticed people to open their doors or peek through windows to investigate with judgmental stares. Emalia smiled to herself, knowing precisely who it was that had come visiting, and made her way downstairs.

Sirius Black.

He knocked, and she opened the door without hesitation. With a single brow lofted and arms crossed against her chest, she leaned against the door frame, preventing him from entering. Emalia peered up at him with a patient and playful gleam in her soft blue eyes.

"Hey, Ema." He had a voice like melted chocolate, all smooth, deep, and delectable, even when he wasn't intending it to be. His charisma was effortless and magnetic. But if she wasn't mistaken, he sounded a little bit sheepish, almost as though he was apologetic for not having called ahead. It hadn't bothered her. His presence was unexpected, but not unwelcome.

"Get this: James and Lily are on a date." She nodded, indicating she had already known. There wasn't much she and Lily didn't share given that they were best friends, and it was to be expected that the redhead had told her about their upcoming date. "And Peter and Remus are busy with 'family affairs', whatever that means."

She cracked a smile but didn't say anything. She just continued smiling sweetly and patiently up at him, still not making a move to allow him inside. He either didn't notice or didn't care because he went on.

"I am bored out of my skull at home, and I figured you were free and that I'd come around. So, can I come in?"

There it was, the reason for his out-of-the-blue visit—he was bored.

This wasn't surprising to hear. Sirius was a social creature; he liked being around others and was only alone when it suited him. It hadn't even bothered her that he would assume she was free and come over unannounced. After what happened last year, when her mother passed away and she struggled to come to terms with it, she and Sirius had grown closer.

He had become a constant presence in her life, where once he had just been Remus' friend. But he had been there, impulsive and reckless, when she pushed everyone away. He helped drive away her sorrows with his silly jokes and ridiculous behaviour, and he was there to comfort her when it became too much to handle. She'd lost count of how many times he had held her as she cried.

"Of course you can, Sirius. I just wanted to see how long you'd wait to ask," she said with a laugh. The sound was light and carefree, unlike anything she had done a year ago. She stepped aside to make room for him to pass, and she closed the door when he had done so. Her father, Alberic, wasn't home, but he knew Sirius well enough that she didn't think he would be bothered by the visit.

"I was just getting ready, actually. Lily and I are going to a high tea after their date." Emalia made certain the door was locked before turning back to him and motioning for him to follow her.

"So, a tea party." Sirius joked as he followed her upstairs. She could hear the smile in his voice and imagined the way his eyes crinkled at the corners as he teased her.

"No. It's a high tea. You know what that is, Sirius."

"A fancy tea party then." He went on as he took a seat at the end of her bed. Emalia was seated in front of a vanity; it was matte black with a large mirror and looked out of place in her bedroom. He wondered, just for a moment, if it had belonged to her mother. "Besides, you look pretty much ready to me."

"I need to finish my hair, then put on my heels, and I haven't decided what perfume to wear, so I'm not really. You'll just have to sit and watch, won't you?"

He laughed at her playful banter and watched her reflection in the mirror. Her expression was serious as she pulled a brush through her raven-black hair without too much difficulty. Every now and then, he saw the corner of her mouth twist in discomfort as she worked a knot loose.

After a few minutes, maybe five or so, he started counting the strokes, and when he reached thirty, he chuckled. It was a deep sound, reverberating from the middle of his chest. Emalia stopped and was staring towards the mirror, brush still held in hand, brows drawn together in confusion.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's just that I've watched you brush your hair about thirty times now. I think you're done, Ema."

He saw the worried expression soften in the mirror and cracked a small smile.

"I'll only be a few more minutes, then I'll give you some attention, Pads."

"You know, I'm pretty sure I could run my fingers through your hair and it wouldn't get tangled; you've brushed it that much."

It was this comment that made her thoughts pause as she looked over her shoulder at him. If it had been any other woman, he would have thought the look she gave him was purposely seductive, but not Ema; no, she wasn't that kind of person. But maybe he was mistaken because the way she was smiling at him made him swallow hard.

"If I didn't know any better, I would think you're flirting with me, Mister Black. Maybe even trying to seduce me." Her tone was soft, like a whisper, as she gave him a playful wink. It wasn't unusual for them to poke fun at each other; the occasional flirty comment or sarcastic remark that might have led to hurt feelings if they hadn't been so close. Emalia wasn't a flirt like him, though he knew she had had boyfriends in the past.

But knowing that didn't stop his thoughts from racing to a hundred different scenarios.

"And if I was?" He replied with a sudden seriousness in his deep voice.

Emalia didn't need to see him to hear the challenge in his words. Her face flushed a soft pink, and she quickly looked away, but he saw it in the mirror's reflection.

"Is it working?"

She didn't answer; she couldn't find her voice to do so.

Sure, she had thought about him that way; she had fantasised about how his hands would feel on her body, touching her and pleasuring her, his fingers wrapped in the heat of her core. She had even touched herself on more than one occasion, imagining it was him. His name was often a heaven's prayer on her lips as pleasure swept through her body, leaving her breathless and wanting more. But those thoughts had been buried deep down, hidden alongside the ones about Remus.

He was her friend; they all were—as thick as thieves, James would always say. Emalia had never been willing to risk their incredible friendship for anything. Not love, not sex, not anything. But she would have been lying if she said she wasn't tempted.

With a gentle sigh, she placed the brush down and tucked a few loose strands of hair behind her ear. She laughed softly and shook her head. He was teasing her again. He always did this.

"You are a dork, Sirius." The words came out halfheartedly as she stood and took a step towards the wardrobe. But he caught her by the wrist before she had taken even two steps and pulled her back towards him.

Surprised by this, she stumbled around, only to have him catch her.

It all happened so fast.

One moment she was standing, and the next she was practically straddling his lap. Her hands were on his shoulders now, clutching at him for balance, a knee resting on the mattress beside his thigh. His hands had settled on the swell of her hips, firm, warm, and strong. And then, without warning, he shifted, pulled her down onto the mattress, and held her there.

Emalia made a startled squeak but otherwise didn't resist him. She was too surprised by his bold behaviour to protest. And, if she were to be honest with herself, she had fantasised about situations exactly like this a few too many times before. She had imagined how his body would feel nestled between her thighs, what he would do when she was naked beneath him, and how he would kiss her, touch her, and love her.

One of his arms was around the small of her back, the other propping him up on an elbow. She was staring up at him with wide eyes, her lips slightly parted, and her fingertips digging into his shoulders as he hovered over her like some falling shadow.

Sirius was between her legs, making her skirt ride up her thighs, and he was breathing deeply, evenly, and calmly. His breath was washing over her mouth and nose like sickly sweet rum—it made her head swim.

"Is it working?" He repeated the question, his voice dropping an octave so that a shiver ran down her spine. Emalia still couldn't find her voice to answer him; she couldn't stop her heart from going into overdrive or the moisture pooling at her core.

His denim trousers rubbed against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs as she shifted beneath him. The ends of his long, inky black hair tickled her cheeks as he stared down at her. She could feel him staring at her, watching her, waiting for an answer.

Her tongue slipped out from behind her teeth to slowly lick her lips. He watched this with a smirk and enjoyed when she chewed nervously on her lower lip. Her chest was rising and falling, brushing against his each time, and her ebony hair was sprawled around her on the bed like the night sky.

"That depends." Emalia finally answered, her voice barely a whisper.

She couldn't deny her feelings. She wanted this—she wanted him.

Sirius leaned closer, pressing more firmly against her, stroking his nose softly against hers.

"Hrm?"

"Are you going to kiss me or not?"

He didn't answer, not verbally.

Instead, he kissed her, as was requested of him. His lips touched hers gently at first, soft and warm, moving slowly and testing the waters, but when she released the breath she had been holding and kissed him back, it was game on.

Sirius deepened the kiss, chasing her taste. Vanilla. He could taste it on her lips. Her lip gloss tasted like vanilla and sweet almonds. It was a delicious combination, and he found that he couldn't get enough of it.

He had plenty of experience in these situations and was deep in his element, so he took the lead without question. He parted his lips and swept his tongue against her plump lower lip, requesting permission. This made her head swim and made her moan softly into the kiss. Emalia parted her lips, then his tongue delved into her mouth without hesitation. He tasted like cigarette smoke and danger, pure rebellion, drowning her senses in him.

She moaned again, louder this time. Emalia shifted beneath him to wrap an arm around the back of his neck and pull him closer. His fingers trailed fire across her back as he pulled his arm from beneath her and spread it along her ribs. Sirius pushed against her, rolling his hips against hers, his arousal evident, straining against his jeans.

His mouth was making her delirious, and her head was swimming with pleasure because of it. Sirius was like fire, scorching her skin with his touch and searing her mind with his gentleness. And she was like putty in his hands—inexperienced, innocent, and all too willing to learn.

His hand trailed up her body, from her hip to her ribs, before settling over a breast that was just a little bit too big to fit in his palm. He could feel her nipple through her clothes, hardening as he ran his thumb against it. It was begging to be freed, begging to be sucked.

Emalia said his name in a quiet plea when the kiss was broken for a much-needed breath. He kissed her from her chin to her neck, stopping to suck here and there, leaving little red marks in his wake. She was writhing beneath him, pushing her hips against his, pushing her breast into his hand.

She still had an arm around his neck, and now the other had a fistful of his hair. Her fingers were buried deep in his thick locks, and she tugged on them roughly, making him growl as she dragged his mouth back to hers. Emalia was breathing heavier now, faster and harder, and her knickers were wet with excitement as their tongues touched and twirled together.

Sirius drew her lip between his teeth, biting it gently, and gave her breast a firm squeeze before moving his hand down her body. He enjoyed the way she writhed beneath him, how she kissed him with urgency, and how she moaned his name each time he did something new.

His hand reached her thigh, which was now curled against his hip. And then it drifted back up, beneath her skirt this time. Her skin was soft and warm to the touch and prickled with goosebumps. His fingers found the band of her knickers, curled around the cotton fabric, and tugged them down.

It was then that Emalia made a noise. The sound was somewhere between protest and panic. Her hand left his hair and found his beneath her skirt. Small fingers encircled his wrist and held tightly to halt his explorations. He could have kept going—he knew that, she knew that, but he was as still as stone.

She was panting and staring up with lust-filled eyes that were wide with uncertainty once again. The last virgin of their group—even Peter had finally gotten some now that he was dating that pretty Ravenclaw girl he was so keen on. This thought made him smile. She was so eager but so unsure.

"We should go out first. To dinner or something."

Her words were like a sledgehammer shattering a panel of glass—sudden and unexpected. Sirius was struck silent for a moment before the corner of his mouth pulled into a smirk. So she wanted to be wooed first. He could do that.

He kissed her without warning. Hard, slowly, thoroughly, just because he could. It made her moan and made her toes curl.

"Yeah, let's do that."

"Sirius."

"Emalia."

The warning in her tone had him grinning from ear to ear—not that she could see it, but she could certainly hear it in the sound of his laugh. Emalia shuffled along with an arm outstretched, feeling the way while he crowded behind her, his chest brushing against her back as he kept her eyes hidden behind his hands.

"I’m serious," she warned him again, this time trying to escape him. He'd blindfolded her the moment they arrived, his large hands covering her eyes, intent on not letting her ruin the surprise. Sirius hadn't told her when he would take her on a date, where he'd take her, or any other details.

And then one night he sent her a message, instructing her to dress nice and be ready by seven. Normally, she would have resisted his dominance and rebelled against his authority. But this time it made butterflies fill her stomach, making her nervous and excited, so that she had to squeeze her thighs shut to fight the ache between them.

He’d dressed nice—casual but nice. Dark denim jeans and big black combat boots. He had a leather jacket over a simple white tee and rings on at least half a dozen of his fingers. Emalia hadn't been able to hide the way her eyes moved up and down his body, taking in every detail of him, or the flush that had crept into her face when he caught her staring.

He had been equally transfixed when she opened the door. Her long ebony hair hung in loose curls down her shoulders, falling over a black blouse that was tucked into a red floral skirt, but his gaze remained on her feet. Six-inch heels, studded and strappy, towering, impossible to walk in, or so he thought.

Escaping him proved to be impossible. Sirius wrapped an arm around her waist—a tight band of muscles—as he lifted her, making her shriek in surprise. "No, you’re Ema. I’m Sirius." He chortled in response, and she could hear the tease in his words and feel the laughter vibrating through his chest and against her back. "Now behave; we’re almost there."

She was laughing in spite of how he carried her as though she weighed nothing, unhindered by the way she wriggled in his grasp. "Put me down, you buffoon!"

He didn't, not until they reached the entrance. He held onto her as her heels sank into the snow, keeping a hand on her hip and her back pressed against his chest.

He watched her face as she stared in awe at the winter wonderland before them. The ice rink had been decorated with wreaths of twinkling lights and fresh snow, and the ice was beautifully illuminated by those very same lights along with the moonlight glow. There were a couple of booths selling snow cones, hot chocolate, and other treats. There was a distinct chill in the air.

Emalia looked at him over her shoulder with a sweet smile on her lips. The lights reflected in her soft blue eyes in a way that stole the breath from his lungs. "Sirius, this is so lovely."

He frowned. "But?"

"I can’t skate very well," she admitted quietly, not wanting to ruin his surprise. "Or at all, actually."

He grinned in response, his shoulders dropping as the tension bled out of them, and suddenly he could breathe again. Sirius narrowed his eyes playfully. "It’s alright, angel. I’ll show you." His arm snaked around her waist again, his palm pressing firmly against her stomach, fingers splayed possessively, the warmth of his palm penetrating straight to her core as he pulled her tight against him. "Besides, it gives me a reason to hold you like this."

"Oh, you need an excuse for that, hrm?"

"A reason. You give me plenty of those," he mused with a hum, his mouth ghosting over hers, swallowing the little gasp of surprise. She tasted like vanilla again, her soft pink lips parting under the dominance of his. Her eyes, his eyes, drifted shut. Her tongue slipped past her own lips to lick his lower one, softly and shyly, asking for or giving permission; he couldn't figure out which because his head was swimming.

It was only the shriek of someone falling on the ice that pulled them from the moment and reminded her that they were standing somewhere very public. Sirius noticed that her eyes were glossy when they opened, but she smiled at him sweetly and innocently, as though she had no idea what effect she had on him. Emalia tangled her fingers with his, enjoying the warmth of them wrapped around hers, which were cold as ice.

Sirius had always run hot like a furnace, the heat of him seemingly clinging to the air, chasing away the cold. She noticed that his fingers were calloused, just a little bit, probably from years of holding a bat and beating bludgers away from his teammates.

He didn’t object as she tugged him to the booth where they could rent their skates. He enjoyed the way she acted so bossy, calm, and confident while making small talk with the man attending the booth. Sirius laughed when she got her skates, a size seven, and Emalia retaliated by smacking the back of her hand against his chest.

Her shoe size shouldn’t have been surprising, and really, it wasn’t. It amused him that she wore such a small size in comparison to his ten and a half. Sirius was taller than her, which was an understatement, to say the least. If Emalia hadn’t been wearing those heels, he’d have been a foot taller than her, maybe more.

She was small, delicate, and fucking smart-mouthed.

Emalia watched how Sirius laced his skates, his fingers plucking at the laces with practised movements, no doubt from how often he’d had to lace up those combat boots. She followed his movements, pulling them tight around her ankles, making sure they were supported and that she wasn’t about to end up with a broken bone. And then she was following him to the rink, leaving behind her heels beside his boots, the sight of them drawing a chuckle from him that had her shooting him a warning glare.

Sirius marvelled at how she could walk in the skates with utter confidence, perched on them like a ballerina, until she stepped onto the ice. Then she was the polar opposite. Emaila stumbled and shivered from both the cold and nervousness, her expression one of tight-lipped concentration. She clutched at the railing, her arms shaking as she managed to catch herself when she slipped.

She didn’t talk to him. Didn’t even look at him. Instead, she was staring at her feet as she edged her way around the rink once, twice, and a third time.

Sirius was the complete opposite.

He moved with confidence and a natural swagger. The wind whipped at his hair as he whizzed past her, weaving in and out of the crowd, somehow avoiding colliding with them even though his attention was entirely on her. At times, he wasn’t even watching where he was going. After a while, he grew tired of watching.

Sirius skated towards her quickly, turning his skates at the last minute and finishing with a hockey stop, covering her legs in a spray of ice flakes. "You dog!" Emalia shouted with a glare, which only made the young man grin.

"What?" he barked out with a laugh, watching as she brushed the ice from her skirt, almost falling while doing so. "I needed to get your attention somehow. You seem pretty intent on that railing; should I be jealous?"

Emalia sneered at him. "That’s because someone took me to an ice skating rink. And as I recall, I've already told you I don't know how to skate."

"Here, let me show you," Sirius said, holding out a hand.

"I’m quite happy right here," she replied indignantly.

"Don’t you trust me?"

"Not on your life!"

That wasn’t entirely true. Emalia did trust him. She trusted that he would hold her close, that his hands would wander her body, and that his lips would steal the breath from her lungs. She trusted that he would tease her and keep her safe, but she didn’t trust him not to let her fall and be covered in snow and ice shavings as a joke.

Sirius drifted closer, not taking no for an answer. He caged her between his arms, his chest pressing firmly into her back, forcing her against the railing to prevent an escape. The warmth of him was immediate; it made her head spin and made her dizzy. She found herself leaning into him to chase away the cold.

He pried her small fingers from the railing one at a time, laughing against her shoulder, his warm breath wafting against her neck, making her shiver and squeeze her thighs together. She swatted at his hands, huffed out warnings and threats between laughs, and pushed against the rail and into his chest to create space for an escape. It was only as she moved to turn, stumbling as a skate slipped out from beneath her, that she gave up the fight.

Sirius caught her around the waist, an arm around the small of her back, the opposite hand grabbing her hip. He was laughing, and so was she, as he hauled her back to her feet. "Trust me, angel. I won’t let you fall."

She made a sound that was unladylike, indignant, and very unbelieving. Emalia held his forearms tightly, her manicured nails digging in, so he felt the pressure through the sleeves of his jacket. Sirius just grinned through it.

"Don’t look down," he instructed, his tone gentle as he moved slowly backward with just a little bit of momentum. "Watch me, Ema, and keep your back straight. If you tilt forward, your balance will be off." Sirius held her forearms firmly, staying about a foot away to avoid their skates coming together.

He towed her along slowly, encouraging her to match his stride and move with the opposite foot each time he moved. He praised her when she got it right, earning himself a coy little smile and her cheeks flushing a pretty pale pink. And when she stumbled, he caught her, soothing her and telling her it was alright.

They were both silent for a while. Emalia concentrated on her footwork, her hold on him tightening a few times when she stumbled before finding a rhythm that worked for her.

"You know," she said softly, still staring down at her feet while struggling to keep her balance. Sirius captured her chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilted her face up. For a moment, she stared at him with pretty doe eyes, curious, nervous, and wanting. She licked her lips. "I don’t think I ever thanked you."

His brow furrowed. "For what?"

And he generally couldn’t think of what she might be thanking him for. He thought it was plain as day that he was enjoying himself on this date. Emalia was pleasant company—polite and sweet, undeniably sassy and smart-mouthed, which he found amusing.

It wasn't that he'd never considered dating her. She was an attractive young woman and had had her fair share of boyfriends and would-be suitors. But Sirius had made it a general rule to steer clear of his friends', the important ones anyway.

"I don't know," she laughed, her gaze wavering from his for a second before returning. The smile on her mouth was sweet but sad, and it plucked at the strings of his heart. He hadn’t seen that smile in a while, not since her mother had passed away and she’d tried to put on a brave face for the world. He hated it as much now as he did then.

"For everything you do. I don’t think I ever thanked you, Sirius. You stuck around even after I said those terrible things. Even when I pushed all of you away. Everything was so heavy, and you shouldered so much for me, and I don’t remember saying thank you. Or apologising."

"You were grieving, angel. You've got a free pass to be a little bitchy," he said, his hand moving to her hair and stroked it. He let the silken strands run through his fingers, marvelling over how, as he predicted, he could run them through her hair without it getting tangled. He smiled at her, gentle and reassuring. "Besides, that’s what friends are for, right? Staying around when things go to hell."

His words warmed her heart and plunged a knife into it at the same time.

Emalia was grateful to have him as a dear friend. She was so completely appreciative of everything he had done for her, how he had helped her and her family. He’d been so kind to her mother while she was confined to the hospital, lifting her spirits and making her laugh every time the doctors had bad news. But in that moment, she didn’t want a friend; she wanted more.

She was the one who moved first.

Her hands moved to his shoulders, and her lips melded against his, plump and warm, clumsy and desperate. The sound of their skates clacking together erupted between them as he hauled her closer to deepen the kiss.

His fingers burrowed deep in her hair, his cold nose gliding against hers as he tilted her head back, giving himself better access to her parting lips. The other hand held her hip, fingers pressing in firmly, feeling her curves. They were warm, spreading fire through her blood as it rushed through her veins, igniting an ache that spread from her belly and down into her hips.

The world had fallen away until it was just the two of them, clinging together like star-crossed lovers. They drifted gently on the ice, carried by his confident skill. Sirius felt her tremble against him, leaning desperately into his kiss. Her hands glided up his body, burrowing into the thicket of tresses at the back of his neck, drawing him in deeper, and he was lost in her—the smell of her shampoo, the taste of her chapstick—utterly and hopelessly lost.

He pressed his palm into the small of her back, bringing her flush against him, the other clutching at the back of her head to control their kiss. His teeth nipped at her lower lip and sucked it between his lips, and she couldn’t help but whimper.

It was that sound that brought the night careening back to reality.

Sirius pulled away, his chest heaving with heavy breaths. He kept her close, kept his hand in her hair, and kept his lips brushing against her. Their eyes half-opened and met. His hand stroked down her back, feeling her shivering, hearing her whimper, and feeling her lips open against his mouth for another needy kiss that he happily obliged in giving her.

"Sirius." Her voice was shaking, barely a whisper above the conversations around them. He felt her words rather than heard them. He bit back a groan when she bit his lip. "Take me home."

The two of them arrived on the porch of her family’s estate in record time. Her back slammed against the mahogany door as he pinned her to it, the force enough to make the hinges rattle. Emalia gasped into his mouth, caught off guard as a whisper of pain shot up her spine, only to be forgotten a second later when his hands splayed possessively at her hips.

She buried her fingers in his hair, taking a fistful to hold his mouth to hers, making him growl as his scalp was tinged with a pleasurable sort of pain. Sirius felt her nails scraping at his shirt, clawing their way down his chest before curling around his belt. With his hand hooked under the bend of her knee, he hitched her leg over the curve of his hip, allowing himself to paint his body firmly against hers.

His hips trudged against hers, strong, dominant, and rough; his cock was already hard and straining in his jeans, and she couldn’t help but use the hold of his belt to pull him closer. Emalia kissed him desperately and deliriously, her lips parting to welcome his tongue into the warmth of her mouth as he started to work his hands beneath her skirt.

Her legs turned to jelly when he took her arse in his hands, squeezing it as he ground his hips against hers so that she could feel his erection through the layers of their clothes. And then she was pushing his hands away so that she could turn towards the door.

Sirius did not stop as she fumbled with the doorknob.

"You taste so sweet," he said, his voice gravelly with lust. Sirius’ lips were warm as he kissed her neck, leaving little wisps of fire licking at her skin as he sank his pearly whites into the junction of her shoulder just hard enough to elicit a little gasp.

"Inside," she managed to gasp out, her voice trembling, "we need to get inside." Sirius silenced her with a kiss, their teeth knocking awkwardly together because of the angle, but neither minded. Emalia arched her back instinctively to allow their lips better contact, desperate to taste more of him, her arse pressing hard against his aching cock.

His hands found their way beneath her blouse, palms rough and like molten lava against her skin. He was pleasantly surprised to discover her bra unclasped at the front. He made quick work of it, her breasts freed to his wandering hands. Sirius cupped the weight of them in his palms, enjoying their soft warmth and the way her nipples hardened into peaks when he rolled them between his fingers.

It was a miracle Emalia got the door opened before they started stripping. Together, they tumbled inside—a tangle of limbs, heavy breaths, and hot kisses. It was followed by fumbling up the stairs when the kissing didn’t stop, and then they were naked on her bed and the nervousness was bleeding back into her veins.

Emalia watched him undress and, for a moment, was utterly terrified of how badly this was going to hurt. Especially with how... big he was.

And it all came racing back to her.

She was a virgin.

And he wasn’t.

Sirius had a reputation. Oh, Merlin, did he have a reputation.

Emalia had heard their schoolmates whispering about him in the back of the library. The girls talked about the delicious stretch of his fingers when he was fingering them. Or the wickedness of his mouth and how they could taste themselves on his tongue after he had gone down on them.

And it was those same girls who talked about his size—how he was above average with an impressive girth that sometimes made it uncomfortable for a few days after being with him.

She had heard the rumours; some nights he was soft and sweet, gently rocking his hips until his lover climaxed with a soft moan. Other nights, he was wild and untamed, rutting into them from behind until they couldn’t think straight.

And knowing all of this made her incredibly nervous. It made her heart stammer in her chest so hard that it might break through her breastbone, but it did not make her stop him when he started to move down her body.

"Is this okay?" Sirius whispered against her neck, his breath balmy against her sweat-slicked skin. His stormy eyes had closed, and his lips skimmed over her racing pulse and to the hollow of her throat. He took her hips into his hands, his fingertips biting into her skin just a little too much as he waited for her answer. She could feel his cock pressing against her thigh, feel how hard and big he was, and shuddered with anticipation. 

Emalia whimpered in response and nodded in approval. Sirius was magnetic, and she found she could not deny him. He was fire—chaotic and beautiful—and she was a moth to his flame.

Sirius nipped at her racing pulse, making her gasp out loud. He immediately laved his tongue over the hickey to take the sting from it. The delicious combination of pleasure and pain had her mind blurry with lust and her core clenching.

She felt so vulnerable, like he was going to eat her alive.

And she wanted desperately to satisfy his hunger.

Sirius took his time, as though he had all night for the young woman beneath him. He took one of her hardened nipples into his warm, wet mouth and sucked on it, swirling his tongue around it.

"Sirius," she whined his name when he switched breasts, this time taking her nipple between his teeth and tugging on it just enough to entice her to arch her back from the mattress.

He chuckled when she whined again. "Patience, baby." He hummed while kissing a trail of fire down her belly. He took the time to admire the rise and fall of her chest as her breath came faster, how she moved restlessly beneath his mouth, and how her pussy glistened with obvious arousal.

Sirius placed a kiss against her hips and then on the inside of her thigh, so close and yet still so far from her core, making her breath hitch. He kissed and nibbled until she was writhing beneath his mouth, trying desperately to get him where she wanted.

And then he smeared his tongue against her pussy, tasting the sweet nectar of her essence and letting it slide down the back of his throat like a fine wine. Her body quivered beneath him, and his name escaped her in a breathless moan.

Sirius couldn’t explain what it was—either inexperience or curiosity—but virgins were so quick to get wet. They tasted different on his tongue—innocent and sweet. And she was no exception. 

Her nerves cracked and popped like lightning as his tongue circled her clit, making her hips buck up. He could feel her heart racing beneath his palms; her nipples hard beneath the touch of his fingers as he caressed them down her body, memorising the feel of her skin until he found her wet heat.

She made this sound—a little gasp of pleasure—that sent arousal rocketing through his veins and straight to his cock when he pushed a finger into her tight pussy. His fingers were thicker than hers, larger and longer, reaching deep and rubbing against all of her nerves.

Emalia grabbed a fistful of his hair to hold his mouth against her when her hips bucked, pushing her pussy against his mouth when he began moving his finger. The stubble on his jaw scratched beautifully at the inside of her thighs as they tightened around his head, trapping him there when he added a second finger, stretching her more.

She came without warning, her walls clamping tight around him and her hips rising from the mattress as the world shattered into sweet oblivion. Sirius kept his lips encircled around her clit, sucking and fingering her through the climax as crystal shards of pleasure shot through her entire being. It felt like a bolt of white-hot lightning had scored her soul and set her world ablaze.

Emalia had touched herself before. She was no stranger to pleasure; she had kissed young men other than Sirius and gotten handsy with them. She’d had cum countless times with her fingers or the toys in her nightstand. But this was like nothing else.

Sirius was the son of the devil, with the face of an angel.

Her walls continued to flutter as she came back to earth with her head swimming and her thighs trembling. He withdrew his fingers to lick them clean. Sirius climbed the length of her body slowly, his lips leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses from her clit, up her belly, and between the valley of her breasts until she was tasting herself on his tongue.

She stroked his dark locks as he positioned himself between her thighs, their tongues twisting and twirling together in a delicious dance of dominance. He won, of course, and she lost gleefully. Sirius groaned against her lips as he rubbed his cock along her slick folds, her arousal lubricating him as the tip nudged her sensitive clit.

"Sirius," she moaned softly, her eyes pleading for more.

"Are you sure?"

"Please."

He did not need to be told twice. He bent his head to kiss her, his lips gliding over hers and swallowing the little gasp she made when he entered her. He moved slowly, trying to give her time to adjust to the stretch, but even so, her fingers tightened around the muscles of his shoulders when he buried himself completely, leaving little crescent moons in their wake.

The sound she made was strangled, her body tensing beneath his as she tried to will herself to relax. Pain blossomed through her core and radiated through her hips. Her eyes were scrunched shut, tears dancing on her lashline, but she didn’t tell him to stop.

Sirius knew that it was uncomfortable for her. He was not a small man, and he knew that he was above average. Emalia was so slick with arousal that if she hadn’t been a virgin, it might not have been so demanding to accommodate him.

His mouth skimmed over her chin, her cheeks, and her forehead, leaving a trail of sweet kisses behind. "Doing okay?" He asked, his voice straining as he held himself perfectly still. Emalia peeled her eyes open to stare into his stormy gaze, her breath shaking as it escaped.

"Yeah," she said in a whisper, her voice trembling.

"Try to relax," he encouraged, "it will feel good."

Sirius groaned when she loosened her grip on his shoulders, her nails leaving a sting in his heated skin. She made a sound in response, an apologetic whimper, "S - sorry!" The pitch of her voice rose as he slowly withdrew, her lips trembling against his, her expression somewhere between wanting him to devour her and wanting him to stop.

"S’okay, angel," he said, his eyes dark with desire as he looked down at her. Sirius teased his lips against hers, plunged his tongue into her mouth, and devoured her moans. He pulled out until the crown of his cock was nestled in her snug walls, and then sank back in.

He kept a slow rhythm, stretching her and giving her plenty of time. And then it happened. Emalia wound her legs around his waist to pull him in deeper while she clawed at the sheets, grasping fistfuls of the Egyptian cotton while tossing her head back and arching her back. Fresh waves of arousal washed over his cock.

She moved with him, her hips rising to welcome the piston of his, her movements delicate and desperate—in contrast to his. Sirius moved with control, dominating her with each thrust and fucking her into the mattress until she was clawing at his back and moaning in his ear. He was a little bit rough, holding her so tight that her skin was sure to bruise in the shape of his fingers, his teeth nipping at her lips until they were slightly swollen, devouring every sound that was torn from her throat.

"Sirius!" She screeched his name, her voice high-pitched and strained, when he adjusted his position to thrust deeper, hauling her legs higher on his hips. The tip of his cock crashed into a spot that sent her suddenly skyrocketing.

"Oh."

There was nothing that could have prevented the smug smirk that found its way onto his lips or the surge of pride that welled in his chest. If she had seen it, she might have smacked him. He thrust again, deeper and harder, to hear her scream again. He moved his mouth to her ear, his breath hot, his teeth tugging on her earlobe.

"That’s it, isn’t it? The spot."

Her thighs were quivering as she arched off the mattress, her head thrown back, and her lips parted in a silent scream. She couldn’t seem to catch her breath. Sirius fucked her at a merciless pace, his cock catching on every mind-maddening spot along the way, crashing into her repeatedly, but it was the rough pad of his thumb swiping over the fantastic bundle of nerves that made her pussy spasm around him. Emalia screamed as her world was struck by lightning again, set on fire, shattered, and changed.

The sound of the headboard against the wall was a constant thump, thump, thump. Some part of him thought he should feel bad for being rough, especially given that this was her first time. He should have held her and loved her softly, as a gentleman would have. But he could tell from the way her pussy was squeezing him, how she was grabbing at his back to pull him closer, and how she trembled and shuddered beneath him that she was enjoying this.

"That’s it." He growled against her ear, sending shivers down her spine. He rubbed harder at her sensitive clit, fingers slick in her arousal, gliding, circling, rubbing. "Cum for me, baby."

"I-I-" She stuttered and stopped. Her mind was screaming that the pleasure would kill her, break her, and ruin her. She would have said it if her throat wasn’t constricted with breathless gasps and moans, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes, because it felt so fucking amazing.

"You can," he replied, knowing what she was going to say, once again not accepting no for an answer. "Cum for me, angel, I wanna feel you cum on my cock."

The third orgasm came from nowhere, ripped through her without warning, and crashed into the second. Emalia couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see straight, and couldn’t think through the haze he invoked. She clung to him as the storm swept her away; her nails dug so deeply into his skin that Sirius was certain to be bleeding.

She came undone beneath him, shuddering, panting, and moaning, her hips bucking into his as he fucked her with deep strokes. Her walls clamped so tightly around him that he groaned against her ear. His name spilled from her lips like a prayer to heaven, over and over again, like it was the only thing she could remember.

Sirius buried his face against her neck, biting and sucking, leaving behind hickeys that were sure to embarrass her later. His thrusts became wilder and less controlled as he chased his own release. He fisted the pillow beneath her head, grunting against her neck as his abdomen tightened, white dots decorating his vision. He kept going, moving on primal desire, until something snapped. His mind went blank and fogged as his body shuddered, his nerves cracking like they’d turned into life wires.

He reached his high and tumbled over the edge while kissing her, his fingers curling into fists around duck feather pillows, his knuckles white under the pressure. With a final thrust and a deep groan, he buried himself in her, his hips nestling tightly against hers. Ivory ribbons decorated her walls and filled her, and his tongue wrestled with hers.

Sirius waited until his vision cleared and her nails had lessened their hold before pulling out, leaving her feeling empty, sore, and satisfied. He fell onto his side, thankful for the cool sheets against his heated skin. With an arm wrangled around her waist, he dragged her against him, making her squeak and stare wide-eyed at him.

His fingers were buried in her hair again, dragging her mouth to his so he could kiss her with the fire of a thousand suns. Emalia couldn’t explain what it invoked; she couldn’t have imagined this moment.

They lay in a tangle of limbs, one of his arms around her, strong, pinning her to the wall of his chest, the other buried in her hair and refusing to release her lips. She cradled his face with one hand, nails of the opposite hand pressing into his chest. Their lips were inseparable.

It was comfortable.

And she wanted more.

[slytherinspired]

Tell Me About the One Who Loved Him - A Sirius Black Imagine - Part IV

I was sequestered in my own ancestral home, 12 Grimmauld Place, with no way out. 

The house loomed over me like a cold prison, its walls heavy with dark memories. Of all places to be trapped, this was the worst. Sometimes I wondered if Azkaban hadn’t been a mercy compared to this suffocating tomb of Black family history. The stale air inside seemed to cling to my skin, and even as I walked the halls, I felt the weight of it pressing down, reminding me why I had escaped in the first place. 

Azkaban was hell—a place where hope couldn’t exist. I shook my head, trying to chase away the thoughts. The Dementors had drained me of everything: twelve long years with nothing but my darkest memories to keep me company. What little I had left—memories of James, of Lily, of Remus, of her – were twisted and faded. I had clung to those fragments of happiness in the beginning, but even they had been erased by those wretched creatures, floating endlessly above the icy, crashing waves that battered the prison. 

The sun never shone there. 

And yet, somehow, I had escaped. Driven by the need for revenge, for justice—anything that could pull me out of that soul-sucking abyss—I had broken free. But two years after my escape, here I was, imprisoned again. This time, in the very place I’d once sworn I’d never return to. 

Grimmauld Place. 

It was like being back with the Dementors. The house whispered to me of torture and pain. The shadows held memories of my family’s cruelty, and no matter how many times I walked its creaky wooden floors, I couldn’t find a single corner of peace. My mother’s portrait was the worst. She was always there, just outside the kitchen, waiting to scream, to berate me, even from beyond the grave. It was enchanted, of course—she had been gone for years—but it felt as though her very essence had seeped into the fabric of this house. 

A sharp breath of cold air hit my face as I opened the back door. I stepped into the small yard, desperate for a moment away from her voice, from the oppressive silence inside. My coat hung loosely on my shoulders, old and worn—a relic from the years before Azkaban. It wasn’t much, but it kept me warm as I slouched against the wall, taking a swig of wine straight from the bottle. My hands shook as I gripped it, not from the cold, but from the weight of everything I tried so hard to push down. 

It was nearing Christmas. I should have felt excited, maybe even relieved to be spending it with Harry and his friends for the first time, but all I could think of was what was missing. 

Her. 

Eliana. 

Her name hovered on my tongue, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud. Even after all these years, I wasn’t strong enough to speak it, to let myself remember the way her dark hair felt tangled between my fingers, how her laughter used to fill the spaces between my heartbeats. 

I took another long swig from the bottle. 

A few weeks ago, Remus had told Harry that Ellie and I – we had a daughter together. A daughter I’d never met. A daughter who had grown up believing her father was dead. Stella. The name clung to me now, as if it had always been there, stitched into my skin without my knowing. I was certain Ellie had chosen it deliberately—Stella, a star. Just like the rest of the Black family. The irony wasn’t lost on me. 

I looked up at the sky, trying to catch a glimpse of the stars, but in Central London, the city lights drowned them out. Even now, I could barely remember what they looked like. Azkaban had stripped me of that too. But I imagined them, the stars, burning brightly above, watching over her. My daughter. 

The thought of it broke me in ways I hadn’t expected. I wanted to meet her, to see the face that carried the same blood as mine, but I didn’t deserve it. I had missed everything. Fourteen years of her life, stolen from me—and I had been powerless to stop it. Anyway, did Eliana thought me guilty of those crimes? I add so much forgiveness to beg for.

Buckbeak shuffled beside me, his talons scraping the dirt. Poor creature. He was as trapped as I was, confined to this small yard when all he wanted to do was fly. I ran my hand along his beak, offering him what little comfort I could. We were both outcasts now—on the run from a world that wanted to keep us hidden. 

I had one hope left. To clear my name. To prove I wasn’t the man they thought I was. If I could do that, if I could make the Ministry see the truth, maybe I could be a father to her, even if it was too late. Maybe I could meet Stella, hold her, tell her everything I hadn’t been able to. 

But that hope felt distant, like the stars I couldn’t see. 

And the longer I stayed here, the more I feared that I would never be free from this prison, this place that haunted me as much as Azkaban ever did. 

I stayed outside with Buckbeak for what felt like an hour before the cold finally pierced through the fog of wine in my system. My fingers were numb, and the biting winter air had started to sting my face, but wine had a funny way of making you forget the cold, lulling you into a false warmth. Too much warmth, perhaps. I’d been drinking more than usual these days, numbing the endless turmoil inside me. 

The wine helped, not just with the cold but with everything. It took the edge off the restless energy, the spiralling thoughts, the sleepless nights. And it was particularly satisfying to drain my father’s precious collection, bottle after bottle, with no regard for its value. He would have been livid to know I was wasting it like this—wasting the legacy he’d so carefully preserved, and that alone filled me with a twisted sense of satisfaction. 

I gave Buckbeak a tired pat on the back. The beast let out a soft growl, nudging me with his beak, as if pleading for me to stay a little longer. 

“You’ve got fur and feathers to protect you from the cold,” I muttered, pulling my coat tighter around me. “I’m freezing out here.” 

Buckbeak’s large, expressive eyes fixed on mine, and I flinched under his gaze, almost embarrassed by how much comfort I took from the creature’s presence. 

“Alright, alright,” I sighed, finally giving in. “One more hour for you, but I’m heading inside. You can stay out here if you like the cold so much.” 

I headed for the kitchen door, glancing back once to make sure Buckbeak was settled under the tree where he was chained. We both knew he couldn’t fly, not here, not now. If he did, the Ministry would be after him in an instant. No one cared enough to hunt a hippogriff, but it was a risk we couldn’t afford. 

The kitchen was dimly lit when I stepped inside, the flickering of the old lamps casting long shadows across the walls. I tossed the empty bottle onto the table and wiped my hands on the front of my jeans, which had seen better days. I didn’t care. Not tonight. I would go downstairs to the cellar and grab another bottle. I didn’t care if the room started spinning again—I needed to sleep tonight. Really sleep. Most nights were haunted by nightmares and regrets, and more often than not, I lay awake, too afraid to close my eyes in case those memories came rushing back. But the wine helped, at least enough to knock me out for a few hours. 

I reached for the bottle opener, but something made me pause. I looked at the table. My wand. It wasn’t there. 

I had placed it right there before I went outside. I was tipsy, sure, but not that far gone. Kreacher knew better than to touch my things, especially my wand. 

A sinking feeling settled in my chest. Either I was more drunk than I thought... or someone else was in the house. 

A tremor of fear rippled through me. What if they had found me? What if an Auror was waiting in the shadows, ready to drag me back to Azkaban? My mind raced, the all-too-familiar panic creeping in. My friends—Harry, Remus, even Dumbledore—they would fight to free me if that happened. They knew I wasn’t guilty. They knew the truth. But still... 

I couldn’t shake the fear. 

Slowly, I scanned the room. The corners were dark, shrouded in shadow. And then, there—something moved. A figure, hiding just out of sight, watching me. 

My heart pounded in my chest as I took a step forward, trying to control my breathing. 

“What are you doing in my house?” I demanded, my voice harsher than I intended, trying to mask the rising panic. 

No answer. Just the quiet ticking of the clock in the hallway and the faint, rapid breathing of the intruder. 

“Who are you?” I asked again, my grip tightening on the edge of the table. 

The silhouette shifted, and I saw it now—a wand, pointed at me. The intruder didn’t make a move. I tried to steady my thoughts. If it were an Auror, they would have made themselves known by now. But this person was hiding. Which meant... 

A Death Eater? 

“I’m asking you a question,” I growled, my patience slipping. 

“You’re Sirius Black,” came a voice—a young, female voice, trembling with fear, but not enough to hide the curiosity behind it. 

I frowned, stepping closer to try and make out the face in the shadows. “How did you get in?” I demanded. 

It was impossible to enter Grimmauld Place without knowing the Secret. Whoever this was... they couldn’t have gotten past the Fidelius Charm. So why was she here? And why was she hiding? 

“KREACHER!” I bellowed, my voice echoing through the house. 

The house-elf appeared instantly at my side, his ears drooping as usual. “Yes, Master?” 

My eyes never left the corner where the intruder stood. “Did you let someone in?” 

“No, Master instructed Kreacher not to let anyone in. Kreacher did as Master told him,” the elf replied with indifference, glancing lazily at the shadow in the corner. 

“Then why is there a stranger in my kitchen, holding my wand?” I snapped, frustration and fear bubbling up inside me. 

Kreacher blinked, uninterested. “Master knows there are only two ways to enter the Noble House of Black,” he said in his usual grating tone. 

“Yes,” I replied, impatient. “How did she get in?” 

Kreacher turned to the shadowed figure and took a step closer, but the girl shrank back. 

“Don’t,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. 

“The Noble House of Black will always open for a member of the family,” Kreacher continued, turning back to me. “No spell can break that.” 

My breath caught in my throat. Slowly, the girl stepped out of the shadows, and the dim light of the kitchen revealed her face. 

I stared, disbelief crashing over me. 

In front of me stood a teenage girl, her long, dark, wavy hair framing a pale face. She pointed my wand at me, but it wasn’t her weapon that caught my attention—it was her eyes. Silver eyes. My eyes. Her features were a haunting reflection of my own. 

Those eyes, that smirk—a mocking grin I knew too well. 

“Hello, father,” she said, her voice cold, with a cruel edge that sent a chill down my spine. 

[vkeyqqq]

[Star SoulmateS🌙]

They were called "SSS" 🤗🤗

[celestialseawitch-ff]

Where the Pieces Fall

Rating: M Characters: Hermione Granger/James Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Minerva McGonagall/Otis Spratt Warnings: sex, unhealthy romantic relationships (past), mentions of past child abuse, illness/sickness Summary: There is more than one way to travel through time, but they all have different repercussions. Hermione Granger learns this the hard way when she is violently sent back in time. Her travel results in the complete and total creation of an alternate timeline. She is far from home and there is no way to return, but she finds herself safe in the arms of friends and family long past. Links: Blog | Ao3

[marcelllyn]

Iconic Sirius black

Wow, it's been a long time since I wrote here. Anyway, I'm planning a Sirius Black fanfic, complete with: Arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, deaths, love, jokes, Sirius Black. I hope you like it when I post it, but in the meantime, we'll have a lot of Dean Winchester, Spider-Man, Marauders and, if everything goes well, original stories.

[selmasdaydreams]

god bless america by @rweoutofthewoods on ao3 is literally one of my favourite things ever ever ever (85k words, completed)

it’s mainly jegulus and wolfstar where they all grew up in a small american town until james and sirius moved away, but they’ve returned years later. their past is unraveled so beautifully and when you’re reading you can really tell how well thought out every aspect of the story is. the plot and the characterisations and all the relationships and dynamics within this fic are so so good.

i love anything mere writes but specifically this fic makes me lose my mind, everything about it breaks your heart in the best way possible. (there is a happy ending though!!)

just be aware that it does explore a lot of heavy topics such as religious guilt, alcoholism and teen pregnancy, so read all tags before reading <3

[saveregblackordie0726]

Sombre et Pur'

I wanted to make a masterlist for my fic <3

I have about 8 more chapters written, I just don't wanna post them if no one is interested in this <3

[lixzey]

head over heels

January 20th, 1976

Eloise Clark was late; she was never late for class. 

Eloise never meant to sleep in, and she never meant to stay up late last night either. She was revising for her O.W.L’s down in the Gryffindor common room and lost track of time. By the time she fell asleep, it was already half past two in the morning. 

Now here she was, running down the corridors on the way to Transfiguration class, her long red curls flying all over the place as she tried to get to class in a dash. Eloise prayed to Merlin, Circe, and Morgana that Professor McGonagall wouldn’t get angry or disappointed with her for being late; she was one of her best students, and she didn’t want to get detention for being late. 

“Sorry I’m late, professor!” Eloise said, panting once she reached the classroom, leaning beside the door frame. All eyes were on her as Eloise tried to catch her breath. 

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow at Eloise, her lips pressed into a thin line. “You're lucky that you are one of my best students, Miss Clark. I'll let it slide this once; do not let it happen again.”

Eloise nodded frantically, feeling a wave of relief wash over her. She quickly hurried to the vacant seat at the back of the classroom, pulling out a quill along with its inkwell and a roll of parchment. 

Professor McGonagall continued with the day’s lesson. Eloise eagerly scribbled down notes when the smell of chocolate and old books invaded her nostrils. She whipped her head around to see Remus Lupin standing in the doorway, looking worn and tired. Why in Merlin’s name does he look that tired? 

“Good morning, Professor. I’m sorry I’m late.” 

Professor McGonagall looked at Remus with a sympathetic smile. “It's quite alright, Mr. Lupin. Please take a seat and catch up with the lesson.”

Eloise watched as Remus made his way towards her, brows raised in confusion. Why the hell is he walking towards me? 

Eloise looked around and mentally kicked herself at the realisation—there weren’t any available seats other than the seat beside hers. She could see the rest of the Marauders snickering from the corner of her eye. Eloise visibly rolled her eyes as she scooted further to the other side. 

“Lovely to see you too, Clark,” Remus muttered, rolling his eyes as he settled into the seat next to her. Eloise bit back a retort, not wanting to cause a scene in the middle of class. Great, just great.

Eloise and Remus have been academic rivals since first year. Eloise has never gotten along with him since he beat her in answering Flitwick’s question in charms class. Since then, Eloise has made it her mission to best him in every subject they shared. Unfortunately for her, Remus seemed to always be one step ahead, much to her frustration. It was petty, sure, but Eloise was determined to beat him at least once before they graduated from Hogwarts. 

As the class continued, Eloise tried her best to focus on the lesson, but she couldn't help but feel irritated by Remus' presence next to her. His mere existence seemed to throw her off balance, and she couldn't shake the feeling of annoyance she felt for him.

Eloise sighed, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear and taking a peek at Remus from the corner of her eye. He has another scar; why the fuck does he have severe-looking scratches on his face? Is it contagious? Merlin, does he need help? 

Remus, on the other hand, felt Eloise’s gaze on him. He was used to the stares of people, but somehow this time, Eloise’s felt a lot different than the others. It didn’t feel like she was judging him; Remus couldn’t pinpoint the feeling, but it was good in a way.

“Alright, I will be expecting three a parchment essay about today’s lesson on Friday. You shall work in pairs,” Professor McGonagall explained as she started to assign pairs for the essay. 

“Potter with Evans,” Eloise heard her friend—Lily Evans—groan and shake her head, making her chuckle. “Black with McKinnon, Pettigrew with MacDonald, Lockhart with Brown, Longbottom with Fortescue, Vance with Snape, Boot with Rosier, and finally Lupin with Clark.”

Eloise groaned inwardly, annoyed at the fact that she was stuck with the person she despised the most as a project partner. Why the fuck did it have to be me? Eloise shot him a glare, making it clear that she was not happy about the partner situation. 

Remus, however, seemed unfazed by her hostility. He merely nodded and began to gather his things as the class ended. Eloise quickly packed up as well, eager to get away from him as soon as possible. As the both of them walked out of the classroom, Remus stepped beside her, much to Eloise’s annoyance.

“Look, let's just get this stupid essay done and over with, alright?” Remus said, his tone surprisingly casual. 

“I can’t believe I’m stuck with you.” Eloise sneered, taking a dramatic step back. 

Remus sighed and ran a hand through his mussed hair, looking equally as annoyed as her. “I don't like this any more than you do, trust me,” he muttered. “But we have to work together if we want to get a good grade.”

Eloise gritted her teeth and nodded, knowing that he was right. I can’t believe I’m actually agreeing with him. “Fine, meet me in the library after classes.” 

Remus sniffed, annoyed at the redhead in front of him. “Alright, see you then.” 

Eloise rolled her eyes before walking away from him, her red curls bouncing behind her like dancing flames. Remus sighed, leaning against the wall behind him. “That girl is definitely going to be the death of me.” 

Eloise sat in the library alone after her classes ended, hunching over a book larger than her head as she waited for her essay partner. 

Eloise sighed, her eyes still glued to the book. He’s late—ten minutes late. Why the fuck is he late? Ugh, being the smartest bloke in school doesn’t mean he can-

“Hey Elsie, thought I'd find you here are you busy?” Eloise snapped out of her thoughts; her eyes snapped up to see one of her best friends, Alice Fortescue. 

“Oh no, I’m not—well, not yet. What’s up?” Eloise asked, closing the book and sitting up straight. 

“Can you help me with my potions essay? I asked Lily, but she’s busy with Prefect patrols tonight,” Alice said, plopping down on the chair beside Eloise.

“Erm, well, actually, I'm supposed to meet Lupin for the essay Professor McGonagall set,” Eloise replied, feeling guilty for betraying her friend in favour of working with someone she hated.

Alice raised an eyebrow. “Lupin? As in Remus Lupin? I thought you couldn't stand him.”

“I can't, but we were paired up for an essay in Transfiguration,” Eloise explained, feeling a bit awkward about the situation.

Alice chuckled. “Well, that's an interesting turn of events. Good luck with that, Elsie.”

Eloise groaned, biting on her lower lip. “Luck? I need felix fucking felicis at this point just so I can endure hours with him.”

“Oh, honestly, Elsie,” Alice laughed. “Remus is not that bad when you get to know him.” 

Eloise rolled her eyes. “He’s insufferable.” 

Alice chuckled before giving Eloise a teasing smile. “Maybe you just need to give him a chance. Who knows? You might actually get along after spending some time together.”

Eloise shook her head, not convinced. “I highly doubt it, Allie. He's always been one step ahead of me in everything, and it's really irritating.”

“Well, if you say so,” Alice shrugged. “And here he comes.” Alice’s lips quirked upwards when she saw the boy approach the table. “Hey Remus, how’ve you been?”

Remus gave Alice a nod, a smile on his lips.  “I've definitely been better,” he snorted, now looking at Eloise and her furrowed brows. 

“You’re late.” Eloise glared, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well, Clark, I'm sorry you're just so eager to see me.” Remus rolled his eyes, pulling out the chair across from Eloise. “Flitwick kept me a bit longer to talk; he didn't know about your oh, so busy schedule that ten minutes was just perilous to your precious time,” Remus said, his voice now higher pitched to recreate Eloise’s.

As her mouth moved to retort, a chair screeched under the wooden flooring, grabbing both of their attention as Alice stood up to leave. “Oh Merlin, just try to not kill each other during this; Elsie still needs to help me with my essay; now behave you two,” she said, collecting her things as she went off to give them space.

But as she was parting ways with them, Alice turned around and mouthed good luck to Eloise. Merlin I- 

“So, I was thinking I could start finding out more about the doubling charm, and maybe you could go with the vanishing spell? After that, we can go through our notes and find important points that we need to include so we can start outlining our essay,” Remus asked, beginning to unpack his supplies and now looking at her, expecting a response.

“Fine,” Eloise grumbled, opening her own bag to take out parchment and quill. “But we'll start with my research first, then we'll move onto yours. Understand?” she demanded, giving him a challenging look. 

Remus sighed, shaking his head as he scribbled down notes. “Honestly, Clark, must we always be so competitive?” he asked, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice.

“Yes, because I don’t want to fail just because of an incompetent partner like you,” Eloise retorted, rolling her eyes as she scribbled down on her roll of parchment. 

“Right, because you're the epitome of perfection,” Remus mocked, his tone mimicking Eloise’s voice. 

“Have you met me? That's just who I am,” Eloise replied, her tone matching Remus’ sarcasm. “Get writing, Lupin.” 

Remus fought the urge to groan out loud, knowing that arguing with Eloise would probably be like talking to a brick wall. He dipped his quill into the inkwell and began to write, mentally telling himself that this study session would be over soon.

“What kind of handwriting is that?” Eloise snorted, peeking at Remus’ wonky handwriting. “It looks like a drunk chicken swam in ink and danced on your parchment.”

“Well, I wasn’t blessed with beautiful penmanship like yours, Clark,” Remus shot back, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. 

Eloise scoffed. “I can barely read it, Lupin,”  she said, shaking her head in disbelief. “You write like a first-year; it's embarrassing.”

Remus sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Look, can we please just focus on the essay and get it done? I don't want to be here any more than you do.”

"Fine, could you try to write legibly? It’s not that difficult,” Eloise replied, her eyes never leaving the parchment.

“Fine,” Remus groaned, dipping his quill into the inkwell. “Freckle face.”

Eloise snorted, raising an eyebrow at him. “Is that really the best insult you can come up with?” 

“Well, it seems to have gotten your attention, hasn’t it?” Remus had a smug smile tugging at his lips. 

Eloise’s nose crinkled at the smug smile on Remus’ lips. “Scarface.”

“Swot,” Remus shot back. 

“Look who’s talking,” Eloise scoffed, her nose still crinkled in annoyance. “Teacher’s pet.”

“Try hard.” 

Eloise scowled. “I do not try hard.”

“Really? Because being second to me is saying otherwise.” Remus smirked smugly, leaning back slightly. 

“You take that back!” Eloise hissed angrily, her eyes narrowing. 

“Or what?” Remus challenged, meeting her gaze with a smug grin that Eloise wanted to smack off his pretty face. Pretty face? What the fuck, Eloise!? “What are you going to do, huh Clark?”

Eloise gritted her teeth, feeling her temper flare. “I'm going to stab you with this quill over and over again until you beg me to stop, Lupin.”

Remus rolled his eyes, unable to hide the smirk spreading across his lips. “Real mature, Clark.”

“You started it, you prick!” Eloise snapped, gripping the quill in her hand.

“It’s not my fault you get riled up so easily,” Remus retorted, his smirk not fading.

“I hate you!” Eloise spat through clenched teeth, her eyes ablaze with anger.

“The feeling's mutual,” Remus said, his tone laced with annoyance, though there was a hint of amusement in it as well.

“You absolute git!” Eloise snapped again; her red curls looked as if they were blazing.

“Can you both keep quiet? You're not the only ones in this library, you know.” Both Eloise and Remus’ heads snapped up as they heard a voice coming from the other side of the library. Madam Pince, the librarian, hissed, glaring at them. 

Eloise clenched her jaw, narrowing her eyes at Remus. “This is your fault, tosser.”

“You were the one who started giving me grief about my handwriting,” Remus retorted, rolling his own eyes at her. “Last time I checked, it takes two people to argue, Clark.”

Eloise groaned, massaging her temples. “Yeah, well, you were baiting me the whole time!”

Remus held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, a look of fake innocence on his face. “Hey, you're the one who just threatened to stab me with a quill; it's not my fault.”  

“Why I oughta-,” Eloise began, but was cut off by laughter from behind her. Eloise whipped her head around, only to see James Potter and Sirius Black trying their hardest not to topple over from their laughter. 

Eloise scowled at them, crossing her arms over her chest. “What’s so funny, huh?” she demanded. 

“My apologies for interrupting your romantic tension,” James said with a smirk and a mischievous glint in his hazel eyes. “Just couldn’t help but overhear your bickering; it was quite entertaining.” 

Sirius raised an eyebrow, still chuckling. “It’s just amusing to see you and Remus bicker like an old married couple.” 

“We do not bicker like an old married couple!” Eloise protested, her face flushing with embarrassment—or anger—the shade of her cheeks nearly rivalling her hair.

Sirius chuckled and draped an arm around James’ shoulders. “Please, you two arguing was the most entertaining thing that’s happened in this library since we got here,” he replied with a smirk.

“My galleons are on Clark; she'd definitely win. Moony here won't hurt a girl.” James laughed, leaning over Sirius with a smirk.

“Remus has the patience of a saint to put up with you, Clark,” Sirius snickered.  

Eloise's face flushed red with embarrassment. “Oh, shove it, Black, before I hex you into the next century!”

“Oh, charming,” Sirius snorted, feigning fear. 

“Ugh! Finish the damn notes yourself, Lupin!” Eloise growled, gathering her things to leave. “You are a prat, the lot of you! Kings of bloody prats!” 

Remus watched as Eloise stormed off, her red curls bouncing behind her as her footsteps echoed through the library. He shook his head and let out a sigh, turning to face James and Sirius. “You two are absolute gits,” he muttered, his lips quirking upwards in a small smile.

“Oh, Moony, you’re one to talk,” James responded, a grin on his face as he winked at Remus. “You and Clark would make a perfect couple; you both have the same level of stubbornness.” 

Remus rolled his eyes as he gathered his things to leave the library. “Not a chance in hell, Prongs. I’d rather get hit by the whomping willow than spend more time with her.”  

Sirius chuckled, patting Remus on the back as they left the library together. “We’ll see about that, Moony. We’ll see about that.”

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[whatstruthgottodowithit]

The Boy Who Broke His Own Heart

Fandom: Harry Potter [Marauders Era]

Pairing: Sirius Black x Original Female Character

Characters: Sirius Black, Original Female Character, James Potter, Remus Lupin, Jasmine Potter, Peter Pettigrew, Marlene McKinnon, Lily Evans, Mary MacDonald, Euphemia Potter, Filius Flitwick, Fleamont Potter,

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 26,543

Summary: Sirius would rather break his own heart than hers.

Tags/Warnings: James Potter has a sister, Self Loathing, Commitment Issues, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, Smut, Angst, Fluff, Smoking, Accidents, Harm, Marauders Era, The War is Not Happening in this, Cheating, Jealousy

Notes: This is gonna be a short lil series planned eight shortish chapters <3

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE PART FOUR PART FIVEPART SIXPART SEVENPART EIGHT

Sirius Tags

@caitlin1996 @imthebadguyyy

[howlyourmelancholy]

With a Wonder and a Wild Desire

summary: and try as she might not to fall into his eyes, she fell into the depths of them as though she were falling from the sky, tumbling through stars and galaxies until there was only him and her.

pairing: young!sirius x ofc (Emalia)

warnings: oral (fem & male receiving). heavy making-out, it's safe to assume if they're not moaning or talking, they're kissing. hints or hairpulling, dacryphilia, and biting. light spanking. little bit of dirty talk. tiny praise kink if you squint.

words: 7k

a/n: emalia is my own original character. please keep in mind these characters are portrayed at sixteen years old, the age of consent in my country. this would be set after like a virgin. i hope you enjoy.

The sun was barely starting to rise when the two of them woke the next morning. Pretty shades of purple and pink stained the awakening sky, and a ray of morning light shone through the opened curtains of her room. Emalia was quiet, even awkward.

It wasn’t that she regretted what they’d done; she felt quite the opposite. There was a dull ache that had settled in her pelvis and spread out through her hips and down her thighs. Her skin was still, hours later, goosepimpled with the feeling of his fingers holding her oh so tight and his tongue licking wet stripes here, there and everywhere.

She was happy, but she also felt different, and she assumed Sirius did as well.

The two of them having sex changed the entire dynamic of their friendship, and Emalia wasn’t certain where they went from here. So she sat on the stool in front of the vanity, towel drying her long, raven-black hair, watching him as though he were the most fascinating individual in the world, and to her he was.

His hair was still damp, hanging around his face like endless blackness in a starless sky. She caught a glimpse of the bruise along his neck where she had gotten carried away and blushed, remembering the taste of his skin as she had licked and sucked on it. She watched his fingers as he laced his boots, the silver rings contrasting with the colour of his skin. Emalia had never realised how erotic tying one's shoes could be until she found herself worrying her lower lip with her teeth.

She remembered the feeling of his hands on her body, how strong they felt, and the chill of his rings as he grabbed her hips, her thighs, and her breasts. She remembered the sting of his teeth biting into her neck again and again as she moaned and writhed beneath him. She remembered how he’d built the pressure in her core up and up until the dam broke and he released the storm that rolled through her veins.

Her thoughts paused.

The sting of his teeth biting into her neck.

Her head snapped towards the mirror. Her brows drew together as she craned her neck to get a better look. There was a trail of love bites along her collarbones. The imprint of his teeth was evident in the purpling bruise at the junction of her neck and shoulder. And there, on the side of her neck, was a big hickey that was going to be impossible to hide.

Emalia gasped, making his gaze jump to her.

"You dog!" She shouted, embarrassed, and threw the towel at him. Sirius caught it easily, tossing it onto the bed without breaking eye contact.

"What?"

"Look at me." She spun around to face him, her eyes wide and a hand clutching loosely at her throat, partially hiding the marks he’d left. A smirk split his face when he saw them, and she had to fight the urge to smack that smug expression right off his face. "I look like I’ve been attacked! You’re practically a vampire!"

Sirius chortled as he stood and moved towards her with a casual swagger that made her core clench with sudden and desperate desire. And then his hand replaced hers. His fingers curled loosely around her throat, the rough pad of his thumb stroking the bruise along the side of it with tender affection.

"I think they look good on you." He looked at her with dark eyes. "Like you’ve been thoroughly fucked and satisfied."

He forced her to look at him, holding her gaze with his own stormy hues when she tried to look away in embarrassment, her cheek flushing a pretty pale pink. And try as she might not to fall into his eyes, she fell into the depths of them as though she were falling from the sky, tumbling through stars and galaxies until there was only him and her.

His lips caught her before she could hit the ground.

Sirius kissed her soundly, without urgency. He flew through the sky with her; he felt the clouds against his skin, the sun shining on his face, and stars bursting to life in his veins. And then he was drawing away for a much-needed breath. Emalia blinked slowly to bring him into focus and to shake the haze of desire he’d invoked with something so simple as a kiss.

She held his wrist with shaking fingers, her face turned up towards him as he leant over her like some Grecian statue, perfect and marvellous. A whine tumbled past her lips; her thighs pressed tightly together to stifle the growing dampness. Her face burned beneath the intensity of his stare. "If you keep looking at me like that, I think I might die, Sirius."

Her lips moved against his as she spoke, and he felt compelled to kiss her again. His fingers stroked along the skin of her neck, feeling where it was warm to the touch, marked with the imprint of his teeth, before he buried his fingers into her hair. With the opposite hand, he stabilised himself by gripping the edge of the vanity, leaning closer and closer until her face was tipped sky-high to meet the demand of his mouth.

"And if you keep looking at me like that, Emalia," he said in a low voice, with a seriousness that made her shiver. His fingers tightened around her hair as he fought the urge to take her again then and there. "I might not leave." His words were soft—half a beautiful promise and a terrible threat—and she couldn’t decide which excited her more as she kissed him again.

Somehow she found herself on her bed again with him between her legs.

The two of them were clothed this time, though he’d worked her skirt up and bunched it at her waist so that he could shove a hand between their bodies and inside her knickers. The glide of his lips was rough, but it was his fingers drawing tight circles against her clit that had her lips parting in a moan and her hips bucking. Sirius clearly didn't need to breathe because his lips found her neck and his teeth found the already bruised flesh to suck and bite, deepening the colour of the mark that already embarrassed her.

Emalia whimpered; the sound was tinged with a pleasurable-pain as she pulled roughly on his hair, forcing him to let go with an obscene pop. One of his hands held her waist, his fingers hot and his rings cold, a whiplash of temperature that made moisture pool at her core and coat his fingers. "Sirius," she said his name in a breathless moan as her head tipped back, pleasure starting to build.

"I should go." His words were halfhearted as he circled her clenching hole, earning himself a mewling cry as she shuddered beneath him, trapped in the spell he weaved. Emalia clutched at him, gripping wildly at his wrist to stop him from pulling away as she rolled her hips to grind against his fingers after he pushed them inside. When she looked at him next, her eyes were blown wide, her thighs trembling— already so close to orgasm.

"W-why?" She gasped as he pumped his fingers in and out of her tight heat, feeling her walls start to flutter around them, the wet schlick a prelude to what was teetering on the horizon. He kept his pace slow, holding her at the edge. He found her neck again, despite the vice-like grip she held on his hair. Sirius sucked a new mark onto her skin, making her body jolt beneath him. The pleasure was starting to become too much. He licked a wet stripe up to her ear, where he nibbled at her earlobe.

"Because if I don't, we’re never going to leave this bed."

She made this little sound when he scissored his fingers inside her walls, her thighs squeezing his hips, her heels pressing hard into the mattress for purchase. She whimpered, her lips ripping into a little pout, before he kissed the expression away as she came for him. Every one of her muscles rippled, her body convulsed, and a white-static sound overcame her, placing itself behind her eyes as she threw her head back.

“Oh, oh, there, Sirius, f-fuck, don’t stop!”

Emalia sagged against the mattress; her bones turned to jelly, and her chest heaving with heavy pants. And he kissed her until, by the divine intervention of some cosmic force, he managed to separate from her long enough to make it to the front door. After goodbyes had been said, as he was stepping down the porch steps, she caught his wrist, whirling him around to face her once more.

And she kissed him so deeply that he thought he saw heaven.

The booming base of some muggle rock song was blaring from the speakers. Sirius could feel the beat of the bass guitar reverberating in his chest, his fingers tapping the beer can in his hand almost absentmindedly. His stormy eyes were narrowed, and his brows were pinched together as he watched the makeshift dancefloor across the room.

Emalia was there with Lily, dancing with Marlene and Docus, seemingly without a care in the world. He'd swear that someone was sitting on his chest because of how hard it was to breathe. The two of them had hung out with the group over the past few weeks, never alone, and while she was always her sweet, sassy self, things had been different.

Not bad, not worse, just different.

Each time he spoke to her, she seemed to be off with the fairies, soft-spoken and avoiding his gaze, entirely unlike herself. It was almost as though she were a shy, bumbling preteen again. He’d maybe have teased her about it if he wasn’t so… concerned? Worried? Frightened? He wasn't even sure what he was feeling.

But right now? Watching her across the room—the way her tight red dress was riding high on her thighs, how she laughed, how her arms were wrapped around Lily's neck, holding her close so that their bodies mashed together while they swung their hips and tossed their hair—he was completely distracted. Sirius held onto the memories of her: how her nails left little crescent moons on his shoulders; how her pussy felt wrapped so tightly around his cock; how she’d kissed him more than any girl ever had.

"Pads?"

They’d fallen asleep in her bed while kissing, arms wrapped around each other. And in the morning, he’d had her again, woken her with a kiss, and then trailed them down her stomach to the wetness between her thighs. She’d cum twice that morning, both times crying out his name as her thighs quivered around his waist. And when he finally left, she’d kissed him at the door, a hand fisted in his—

"Sirius!"

He jumped, startled from his thoughts, and his head whipped around to stare at James. "What?"

"You’ve been staring at them for, like, an hour, everything alright, mate?"

There was a hint of worry in James’ voice that had his gaze flicking back towards the girls. None of them seemed to have noticed his staring, though he was certain that more than once Emalia had sent a sweet little smile over her shoulder to him, a come-hither stare that was a far cry from sweet or innocent. He’d assumed she’d spoken to Lily about losing her virginity; he knew that it was important to her, as she’d said before in the past that she didn’t want to give it to just anyone.

He knew that had been a bone of contention with her last boyfriend. Sirius had overheard him one day talking about her; his words were vulgar and filled with all the licentious things he wanted to do to her, right up until the moment Sirius punched him square in the mouth. Just the thought of that git annoyed him. He assumed the redhead would have then told James about it.

Except as he looked at the girls once more, he thought otherwise. If Emalia had told Lily, and if Lily had told James, he'd have heard about it long before now. James had never been good at keeping secrets. "Nah, mate, nothing's wrong."

Sirius knew none of the trio were particularly stupid; if they were, none of them would be passing their classes. So when he met Remus' narrowed, speculating stare, he swallowed a mouthful of beer to keep from blurting out the truth.

It was a mess.

Emalia and Remus were good friends. Sirius and Remus were good friends. And then he and Emalia had started to grow closer, and he knew that some times Remus felt left out, and a little possessive. Emalia had been his friend first, after all, and neither of them wanted to hurt him.

"They just look like they're having fun, that's all."

"They also look completely drunk," James added with a laugh.

Thankfully, the boys left it at that and returned to their drinks.

Almost an hour later, the girls were still on the dance floor. Emalia had intended to move to the kitchen for another drink and to take a well-needed break to rest her aching feet, but then Lily dragged James to the dancefloor, and it was only natural that the other boys would join them, albeit reluctantly.

Sirius was behind her now. The moment was dangerously intimate. His mouth was at the nape of her neck, and an unmistakable heat was swelling in his chest as she swayed against him. He pressed a hand against her stomach to pull her tighter against him, the fingertips of the other hand biting into her hip to try and slow the movement of her hips.

Emalia leant her head back against his shoulder to stare up at him, her eyes shining with a myriad of emotions and desires, glassy from the drinks she'd had. Sirius might have thought the look on her face was innocent if she wasn't grinding her ass against him like she was purposely trying to get him hard.

He felt the drag of fabric against his aching cock with each sway. The first time she’d done it, he assumed it had been an accident. The second time he'd tucked them away at the back of the dance floor, where others wouldn't see them.

"You're killing me, sweet girl," he breathed against her temple, his expression hard as he tried to will his cock to soften. Emalia laughed, the sound teasing as she laid a hand over his, her nails teasing at the flesh of his wrist as she pressed harder against him, earning a groan as he hid his face against her neck.

She could feel the metal studs of his belt and dangling chains through the barrier of their clothing, could feel his cock straining through his black denim jeans, and wanted desperately to be naked with him again.

She smiled up at him. Sirius returned her smile, though it didn’t quite reach his stormy eyes. "Are we okay, Ema?" He asked quietly so that only she would hear the words. The smile dropped from her mouth and was replaced with something else.

"Are we not okay?"

He didn’t answer, causing her heart to kick into overdrive. Emalia turned in his arms and faced him. She stared up at him with those pretty blue eyes, so full of worry, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss her.

"Sirius, what’s wrong?"

"Nothings wrong. It's just that I've noticed that things have been different between us. You've been distant. I'm hoping it's not because we, well, had sex."

"Oh, no, no, it’s not like that," she answered quickly, ducking her head so he wouldn’t see the blush creeping up her neck and into her face or the look in her eyes. It wasn’t that she regretted things—certainly not what they’d done or how it had ended the morning after.

Rather, Emalia wanted it again; she wanted him again, and her emotions were intense and confusing. Until a few months ago, she’d never thought of him like this—of course, she’d always thought he was good-looking and charismatic. She’d even touched herself from time to time, imagining it was him, but he was Sirius.

He was the boy she’d known for years—the one who was one of Remus’s best friends, the one who had held her for days and weeks after her mother passed, and who held her again when they’d lowered the casket, holding her with strong arms as she sobbed. Sirius was the boy who’d made her get up in the morning and who'd made sure that she ate.

And then one day, he wasn’t that boy anymore.

One day, he was a young man with eyes that carried storms. A young man whose touch enticed shivers down her spine and electricity to ignite in her veins. His smile had her thinking about his lips for days and how they'd taste. Emalia was fascinated by the strength of his arms, the way he wore his rings, and how she felt safe in the shelter of his body.

And then she’d told him to kiss her, and he’d done it, and he’d ignited a fire in the pit of her stomach that she couldn’t seem to put out. It smouldered day and night, until thoughts of him consumed her.

"I’m sorry I’ve been acting strange, Sirius. It’s just that I didn’t… uh, well, I don’t know how to talk about it." Emalia said softly, refusing to look at him as she tripped over her words. She felt like a bumbling twit, unable to articulate her thoughts. "I don’t want things to be weird between us. Or with Remus, but I don’t regret it."

Sirius tapped a finger beneath her chin, tipping her face up to him. Her breath caught in her throat for just a moment as she imagined he might kiss her there in front of everyone. He didn't, and she couldn't decide whether to be relieved or disappointed.

"Yeah?" He asked, a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Yeah," Emalia replied, her voice barely above a whisper as she met his gaze. Sirius' hand returned to her hip, his touch both comforting and electrifying. "I'm glad to hear that," he said, his fingers tracing gentle circles against the fabric of her dress. "I was worried that things might have changed between us, that I was going to lose my best girl. I think the others were starting to pick up on all the mutual pining and sexual tension too."

Emalia took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts as the music continued to play in the background, his words making her brain momentarily short-circuit. His best girl - his, his, his. "It's not that things have changed, not exactly. Everything feels more… intensified. I keep thinking about it, about you. It was fun—a lot of fun. Too much fun."

"Too much? What do you mean?"

"Too much because I want it again. I want you again." She risked a peek up at him only to find him smirking smugly, his hands on her hips tightening, pulling her firmly against him. Sirius smiled at her, his expression positively wolfish, and she whimpered softly in response.

Sirius stood at the door to the Grace family estate once again; this time, however, there was a lump the size of a bludger lodged in his throat. The air had become trapped in his lungs when his knuckles rapped on the door, and his mind wildly raced from one thought to the next. This was a strange situation for him, not because he was a virgin or inexperienced, but because this wasn’t just any girl.

Emalia was different from all the others who'd taken him home. Unlike them, she'd taken the time to get to know him. During those long nights spent at St. Mungo's, her sitting in his lap when there was only one seat, her head on his shoulder when weariness took its toll, and the laughter shared with her and her mother, the two had formed a deeper connection. Emalia was special compared to the other flings and one-night stands.

She was one of his closest friends, and he thought that maybe that was why he felt like he couldn’t breathe when the doorknob jiggled and turned. There was a small part of him that was worried—perhaps even afraid—that their friendship might fall apart because they'd had sex.

But even with that thought beating at his brain, when the door opened, he calmed considerably. The bludger that had been in his throat fell through his body to settle in his groin, causing a dull, aching need as he took in the sight of her.

She looked surprised to see him, her soft blue eyes widening ever so slightly and a small smile crossing her lips. She was dressed simply; the inside of the house warm enough to not need layers to stave off the cold. A pair of denim shorts that fell to mid-thigh, a knitted sweater that was a few sizes too big, and a pair of pretty white socks. The neck of the sweater was falling askew to reveal a shoulder.

Her hair was still damp from a shower, falling in waves down her back. He could see the outline of her breasts against the knitted fabric, how she wasn’t wearing anything under it, and how her nipples pebbled beneath his attention. A lump of a different kind had found his throat.

"Hey, Ema," he began, his voice deep and his lips tipped into a lazy smirk, only to be silenced when her arms went around his neck. Emalia pulled him inside, letting the door slam shut with a heavy thud as she pushed up against him, letting him feel the swell of her breasts against his chest as she found his mouth for a desperate kiss.

Sirius, as awestruck as he was, was quick to respond. His hands brushed down her back and settled on the curve of her hips as he turned and pinned her to the door, just as he had done the last time. She gasped against his mouth, pain shooting up her spine in a pleasant way that had moisture pooling at her core.

Her hands moved, one to the back of his neck, one in his hair, holding his mouth to hers as he grabbed the back of her thighs, lifting her and pulling her legs around his hips. Sirius licked along the seam of her lips and pushed his tongue inside when they parted, chasing her own. "Missed me, angel?" He hummed while dragging his mouth down her neck, finding that spot at the junction of her shoulder and neck that had her heart racing and her legs turning to jelly just like the last time.

"Missed you," she echoed, her fingers tightening around his inky-black hair. Sirius pushed harder against her, pulling her hips to collide with his own, making the fabric of her shorts drag deliciously against her pussy. His cock was already hard and aching, and the sound she made in response raced through him to stoke his own desires. "I need you," she went on to say seconds before her lips crashed into his, desperate, needy, and fucking addictive.

His answering groan was equally desperate. He’d thought about her in the days since their last tryst: the sound of her voice when she’d repeated his name as though it was the only thing she could remember; the taste of her when she’d cum on his tongue; how she’d clawed at him and pulled him in; how her pussy felt stretched around his cock; how she’d looked beneath him; how she’d wanted more that morning; how she’d kissed him at the door when he left.

He moved his hands beneath her shirt, fingers of one hand splaying possessively along her ribs while he palmed a breast with the other. "You should have said something sooner, angel," he replied with a laugh, his words muffled as he ran his tongue over her racing pulse. "I’d have come over sooner."

"Upstairs."

Emalia had barely gotten the word out before her bedroom door was slammed shut with an awful bang. Sirius made her sit on the ledge of the black vanity, which he was so certain belonged to her mother, and then fell to his knees. He pulled her denim shorts and knickers down her legs, tossing them carelessly over his shoulder before memorising every inch of her thighs with his mouth, his lips finding every curve and dimple.

Emalia fisted a hand in his hair, her lips parting in a soft moan that morphed into a whine when he pulled back to admire how she was already glistening with arousal. "Such a pretty pussy," he teased with a smirk, making her face flush a wonderful shade of pastel pink.

“Sirius!”

She whispered his name in response, embarrassment creeping into her expression as she started to draw her thighs together to stop his staring. Sirius was quick to intervene, placing his hands on her thighs to spread them again as he scooted closer. His touch was electric, sending wisps of fire shooting through her veins.

"Don’t hide," he said, his fingertips gliding up her thighs until he spread her wet folds with his thumbs, exposing her clit and the damp curls. "It’s s’fucking pretty. Tastes amazing too." He didn’t give her time to recover from that. Sirius ducked his head and flicked the tip of his tongue against her clit, making her hips buck in his hands.

Emalia buried her fingers in his hair to anchor herself as pleasure swept through her. Sirius flattened his tongue, running it from her entrance to her clit, gathering her arousal, and letting it slide down the back of his throat. He hadn't been lying; to him, she tasted divine.

"So fucking good." Sirius licked and stroked her folds at first, his tongue wicked, snaking between them to taste the sweet-tangy wetness. And then he sucked hard on her clit, his lips closing around her sensitive button and drawing it between his wet, plump lips until it popped free with a pornographic sound.

The moan she made was pure perfection. Emalia let her head fall back, her fingers buried in his hair, holding him to her as he started to pull a tight knot in her stomach. Except he pulled back, his chin dripping with her arousal, her folds shiny with his saliva, and she looked at him with a pout, whining softly.

Sirius scooted closer after moving one of her legs over his shoulder so that her socked foot dangled in the air. He pulled her closer too, so that only his hands at her hips kept her from toppling to the ground. And then he ducked his head again to push his tongue between her folds and lapped at her entrance. She gasped and pulled roughly on his hair when he nibbled ever so gently at her clit.

"Stop teasing me," she said in a harsh whisper, making him laugh, the sound vibrating through her pussy and to her core. And then he feasted like a man possessed, as though he were dying and only the sweet nectar of her cum could quench his thirst. And when he knew that she was close, he pushed two fingers into her pussy, feeling her walls quiver around them while he spelled his name with the tip of his tongue.

S. He felt her tremble and heard her gasp. I. Her nails scraped at his scalp when she pulled his hair. R. Her hips bucked, pushing her pussy against his mouth. I. Her walls fluttered around his pumping digits as warmth spread through her hips. U. She gasped again, panting something he didn't hear when her thighs squeezed around his head. S. She came crying out his name, her entire body trembling.

He didn’t stop—not until she was whimpering and trying to get away from his wicked tongue. Only then did he stand. He grabbed her chin gently to encourage her to stand on shaking legs and kissed her hard, the sweet-tangy taste of her cum on his tongue as he pushed it between her lips.

Emaila’s hands were trembling as she shoved the jacket off his shoulders, desperate to feel his bare skin. His shirt followed, pulled over his head in a hurry, only to be thrown carelessly away. The rest of their clothes followed as they tumbled to the bed. Sirius lay on his back as she straddled his thighs, the tips of her manicured nails tracing the outline of one of the tattoos along his ribs, making him shudder.

Each time she found one of the scars left by his mother's abuse, she paused, and he'd tense. And then she would kiss him hard, pushing against him, making him focus on her and not the trauma of his past. She took her time exploring his body, kissing him slowly and deeply before wrapping her fingers around his shaft.

His girth filled her fingers easily. He groaned against her lips when she gave a few experimental tugs.

She’d already known that he was big, but that didn’t stop the way she worried at her lower lip with her teeth as she sat back, blue eyes falling to his cock in her hand. "Like this?" She asked, watching the way his eyelids fluttered and how he stared at her with dark eyes. Sirius wrapped his fingers around hers to strengthen her grip as he thrust into her palm.

"Like that," he instructed, letting his hand fall to his side when she found the right rhythm. His eyes closed when she ran her thumb over his sensitive head, gathering the pre-cum that was beading at the tip and using it to help her fingers glide up and down his shaft.

But then his eyes flew open, and he looked down at her. Sirius hadn’t felt her moving down the bed; it was only when those perfectly plump lips enveloped the head of his cock that he realised what she was doing. "You don't—shit."

But he fell silent when she bobbed up and down on his cock for the first time.

Emalia was clumsy and kept losing rhythm. More than once, his cock sprang from her mouth and slapped against her chin, which just made her blush and giggle before wrangling it back between her pretty lips. But despite her inexperience, he enjoyed the feeling, the clumsiness. Spit dribbled from the corners of her mouth, and she worked what she couldn't fit with her hand.

The first time he felt her teeth, he hissed, his hand flying to her hair, crushing the strands in his fingers to give it a rough tug. That was enough to get her to be more careful. Emalia adjusted her position and then redoubled her efforts, swallowing him down inch by inch with a throaty moan. Sirius couldn't stop his heels from digging into the mattress or his hips from snapping forward, driving his cock deeper into her mouth, until her nose was pressed against the wiry hair at the base.

He felt a pang of guilt as she gagged around him and didn’t stop her from pulling away. Her lips were kiss-bruised when he found them again. Emalia kissed him as though it kept her breathing, like it gave her life as she settled above him, her hands on his shoulders, ebony-black hair falling around them like a curtain veil as she bent down to suck a dark mark into his neck, making him groan.

"Now who's teasing?" He asked with a laugh, only for his breath to catch in his throat when she rolled her hips experimentally. His reaction amused her; he could tell as much from the small smile on her lips.

"Oh, it's definitely me," Emalia replied. She rubbed her pussy along the length of his erection, getting him slick with her arousal. Sirius held her thighs tightly, the rings on his fingers pressing into her soft skin as the head of his cock pressed against her entrance.

Emalia moved slowly, seating herself on him an inch at a time, her lips trembling against him while he swallowed her little gasps of pain. He knew that there would still be pain and discomfort, so he kept kissing her, fisting a hand in her hair to keep her mouth cemented to his, feeling her tits pressed against his chest, tongue twirling with hers until he felt her move above him.

Emalia kissed him one last time with bruising force, until he was lightheaded and desperate for air, before rising up and sitting back. She braced herself by putting her hands on his abdomen as she rocked her hips. Her tits bounced as she moved; her nails dug into his skin just a bit; and the heat of her palms burned a fire through his stomach. He could feel how wet she was and how fucking tight she was as she rode him.

And he liked watching her.

She was slowly gaining confidence. His deep groans encouraged her each time she tried something different, first rocking back and forth, then swirling her hips in a circle, and then grinding down on him. "Shit, just like that," he breathed out in a strained voice, his fingertips biting into her hips so that her skin bruised in the shape of them again. "You're so tight - fuck - feels so fucking good."

Sirius felt her walls tighten at his praise, a prelude to the building pleasure and the orgasm looming over the horizon. "I wish you’d said something earlier, baby." The way he said the words, with dark desire and possession, made her shiver. "I could have been taking care of you all this time."

His hands roamed as he spoke, the rough pads of his fingers trailing up her stomach to cup the weight of her tits in his palms. He rolled his thumbs over her nipples, amused by the way they seemed to harden beneath his touch. The movement of her hips stuttered as she laughed, losing the rhythm in her inexperience.

"I wasn’t sure you’d want to," she said. Sirius grabbed her hips roughly and pulled her down onto his cock as he thrust upwards, maintaining the pace for her. Except then he was sitting up, dark brows drawn together with confusion, as he grabbed a fistful of her hair when she tried to hide her face against his neck. He tugged on her hair, making her look at him. The new angle had him hitting deeper, with the head of his cock hitting that spot that made tears glisten on her lashline.

Emalia clung to him, arms around his shoulders, gasping between frantic kisses. She moaned into his mouth when he kissed her hard, his teeth tugging on her lower lip before he spoke. "Who says I wouldn’t want this?"

Despite the electricity sneaking through her veins and the full body spasms lurking beneath the surface of her skin, she laughed, her lips pulling into a blissful smile as she stared at him with lust-blown eyes. "What do you want then?" Her voice was shaking with trepidation, as well as the force of the orgasm he was holding her on the verge of.

Sirius ducked his head to spread open-mouth kisses along her neck before sucking a mark just below her ear. "I want to feel you cumming on my cock, angel." He knew that she was close—her pussy was squeezing him in an exquisite vice grip. Her arousal coated every inch of his shaft and dampened the dark curls at its base.

She cried out when he made a particularly deep thrust, his aim never having faltered during their conversation. Her thighs trembled. "Maybe you need to do a better job fucking me, and I will."

Her words surprised him.

Not the vulgarity of them, which Sirius thought was stupidly hot, but the challenge in her voice. Sirius had never imagined he’d hear such a comment from Emalia-fucking-Grace.

She was a picture-perfect pureblood with features cut from marble and a tongue of old-world elegance. She was a socialite who danced circles around their classmates with biting intelligence, yet here she was, wrapped around him in a lover's embrace, her pussy creaming around his cock and features twisted in a cock-drunk expression, and she still had the audacity to challenge him.

His hand came down on her arse without warning, open-palmed and hard enough to leave a handprint behind, making her jump in his embrace. Her walls clamped tightly on his cock, and she whined at him, desperate and needy, so he did it again, and again. On the fourth time, he kept his hand on her arse, fingers kneading the bright red print to lessen the sting. The pain seared through her veins alongside pleasure, leaving her melting in his arms.

Sirius could have played with her. He could have told her that only good girls were allowed to cum. He could have made her beg for it. He knew that she would if he told her to. But she was looking at him with those pretty blue eyes like he hung the stars in the sky, and he couldn't—he couldn't deny her a damn thing.

He couldn’t figure out when it happened, when she worked her way beneath his skin and into his heart with those pretty eyes and perfect smile. He’s wasn’t complaining, he just doesn’t know when it happened.

"If you want to cum that badly, baby, all you had to do was ask." His words were undeniably smug. Sirius pulled her down to the mattress so that she was sprawled beneath him. He spread her legs, pushing one of them into the mattress with a heavy palm, and pulled the other one to lay up on his chest, her knee bent over his shoulder.

And then he was fucking her harder, if that was even possible.

Each thrust was as deep as possible, so that his heavy balls slapped against her arse and her toes curled while she clawed at the sheets. "Sirius, Sirius, I'm gonna cum!" Emalia arched off the mattress as pleasure ruined her; the familiar warmth of orgasm ripped through her core and then every one of her muscles.

"Sirius!" She screamed his name as lightning engulfed her. And then he was kissing her, his tongue in her mouth, swallowing every shuddering cry she made. She was crying, the tears having finally fallen, and she couldn't stop shaking. Sirius grabbed her by the chin, his thumb and forefinger pressing into her cheeks so that she was pouting when he kissed her again.

"S'fucking pretty, angel." Emalia grabbed him by the hair, her fingers pulling tightly on the roots. She was still trembling beneath the unrelenting piston of his hips when she came again without warning, and the pleasure quickly turned into too much.

With a scream, she flung her head back, and Sirius attacked her throat just as he'd done last time, biting and sucking until she was marked with purpling hickeys. She would be angry; he knew that, but he didn't care because seeing her like this because of him hurtled him towards his own release.

He lost the rhythm as his orgasm hit him with the force of a train. He drove deep and stayed there, his hips nestling snugly against hers as he came. Her hands smoothed along the muscles of his back, feeling the tension in them as the warmth of his release coated her walls.

"I think you killed me," he panted against her neck, breath hot like lava and lips drawn into a lazy smirk. His stomach ached from how hard he'd cum, a layer of sweat shining on his skin. Sirius rolled away, once again grateful for the cold sheets against his sweat-slicked skin. He wrangled an arm around her waist and dragged her against his chest once she'd stretched her legs.

"That was—"

"Fucking incredible, I know."

"So, I'm your best girl." Emalia said. There was a hint of tease in her voice.

Their hearts had long since settled back into rhythm as the sunset. The room was washed in a warm white glow from the lamps on either bedside table. The bed was unmade; the sheet was on the floor at the foot of the bed, and the comforter was tucked around their waists where they lay together.

"What's that?" Sirius asked as he absentmindedly brushed his hand down her back, over the curve of her hips, and back up, enjoying the way she shivered beneath his touch. He touched her because he could and because he couldn't get enough of her. Sirius looked down to where she was curled into his side, her head resting on his chest, and her leg thrown over his hip.

She was staring up at him with those pretty eyes again, making his heart soar and a lazy smile stretch across his kiss-bitten lips. Her skin was marked with bruises; his teeth, his rings, and his fingers were all visible on her fair skin. He was in a similar state; her nails had left shallow scratches down his back, and her teeth had left their mark on his neck.

"That's what you said the other day at that party. That you were worried you'd lose your best girl," she elaborated, rising up to hover closer. Emalia cupped his face in her palm, her thumb teasing his lower lip. He opened them, his tongue swirling around the digit. "Does that mean I'm your best girl?"

A smirk broke across his face. Sirius pulled her into his lap so that she was straddling his waist again. He sat up and pulled her against his chest so that the soft swell of her breasts was pressing tightly against him, her nipples hardening beneath the stimulation. He wrapped his arms around her, marveling at how soft and utterly perfect she felt.

"You're my only girl."

[slytherinspired]

Yet - A Remus Lupin Imagine (smut)

Following the same story and universe as Tell Me About series! Here I am... 10 years later?

Remus stood before the counter, his hands trembling with a desperation he struggled to suppress. His clothes, worn and faded, hung loosely on his frame. His voice, when it came, was loud yet strained, as if it had been dragged from a place of deep frustration. The clerk in front of him sat behind a towering mahogany desk, her fingers moving in swift, precise gestures, as though casting spells without a wand. Her face was pale and angular, softened only by the shadow of dim candlelight that flickered along the Ministry’s endless corridors. The clerk was dressed in the neat, sober attire of Ministry officials, a crisp grey uniform with silver buttons that reflected the cold, bureaucratic glow of the room. Her brown hair was pinned back tightly, not a strand out of place, except for a thin streak of white that curled at her temple. 

“You don’t understand!” he shouted. The words felt twisted, as if they fought to balance on the edge between civility and rage. The witch behind the counter flinched but remained still, her fingers gripping the edge of the desk. She had no more to offer him than the faint apology etched into her expression. “I need to work.” 

He needed the money. That need pulsed in the room like a living thing, thickening the air between them. But all she could offer was silence, her eyes downcast, her hands empty. Papers floated softly to her from unseen corners, filing themselves with barely a flick of her wrist. Behind her desk, a charmed quill wrote furiously on a long parchment, recording the day’s tasks with an efficiency that bordered on eerie. 

“Like I told you –” she said, “Mr Collins needs help with his books, but I don’t have anything else right now for you.” 

Remus shook his head. “Mr Collins won’t work with me. You know it.” 

There it was—unspoken but palpable. The reason why each request was met with hesitance, each job prospect slipped through his fingers like grains of sand. He didn’t need to say it aloud anymore; the label had been burned into his very being. Werewolf. In the wizarding world, it was more than a condition—it was a curse. Few wanted to hire a werewolf. The fear lingered in every interaction, no matter how mundane. The Ministry had their own discreet policies on “dangerous creatures”.  

“I am sorry, Mr Lupin.” Her voice was smooth and low, tinged with the practiced indifference of someone who had seen many come and go from the Ministry’s endless halls. Her brown eyes showed nothing but disinterest. “Just come back next week.” 

“I’m here every week,” he sighed, “asking you for work, and each time it is the same. Why don’t you send me an owl if there’s something in the meantime? It would spare me from having to come here and bother you.” 

The witch raised her eyebrows and smiled mockingly. “Oh? And to what address should I send it?” 

She knew too well he didn’t have an address. He lived in his damn car – had been living in it for months now. The Ministry’s endless red tape, combined with the stigma of his condition, had shut every door before him. Each job interview, each opportunity, crumbled the moment his lycanthropy was mentioned or even hinted at. It was as if the wizarding world had no place for him outside the fringes of society. 

He turned away without bothering to say goodbye. There was nothing for him there. 

Finding work in the Muggle world had proven just as impossible. At first, it seemed like an escape—no one in the Muggle realm knew about werewolves, and the Ministry couldn’t interfere as easily. But even there, he couldn’t outrun his condition. Each month, as the full moon approached, he would feel the familiar dread tightening in his chest. He couldn’t just call in sick for three days without raising suspicion, and disappearing every month had quickly made him unreliable. Employers grew wary, questioning the strange absences. He had been let go from more jobs than he cared to remember, dismissed for being "untrustworthy" or "inconsistent." 

Remus had been careful with the modest inheritance his parents had left him, stretching every Galleon to make it last. For a time, it allowed him to rent a small flat near Diagon Alley, a place where he could be somewhat connected to the magical world. But even that fragile stability crumbled after two years, when Mrs. Daisy, his elderly neighbour, had complained to the landlord, claiming she didn’t feel safe living next door to a werewolf. No one had said it outright, but the eviction notice came soon after. 

Afterward, he managed to find a tiny studio in London, outside the magical community, but the rent required sterling pounds, not Galleons, and even without his affliction, finding work in the Muggle world have proved nearly impossible without the proper credentials. He had no Muggle schooling, no tangible proof of any experience, and no one was willing to take a risk on a man with an incomplete story. For a brief spell, he worked at a small café, washing dishes in the back, but his frequent absences around the full moon quickly made him expendable. “It’s just not working out,” his manager had said, barely meeting his eyes as he handed over the final pay check. 

After that, it had been a string of odd jobs—cleaning homes, scrubbing cars, whatever he could find that didn’t require questions or paperwork. But even those jobs dried up after a few months, the repeated absences stacking up like a curse he couldn’t escape. It didn’t matter how hard he worked or how much he tried to hide his condition; sooner or later, the same pattern emerged. He’d disappear for a few days, recover in secret, and by the time he returned, the whispers had already started. They always ended the same way: with him packing his few belongings and moving on to the next temporary refuge, the shadows of his secret following him wherever he went. 

But then, happier days came. And he embraced them as much as he could.  

Mr. Collins had been one of the rare few to take a chance on Remus, inviting him into his home with little fuss or prying questions. The old wizard had an impressive collection of books and papers in desperate need of organization, and Remus had relished the work. The house itself felt like a sanctuary—a sprawling estate tucked away from the bustling wizarding world, with its heart being the grand library that stretched wall to wall with ancient tomes and fragile manuscripts. For six peaceful months, Remus had lived there, surrounded by books, his evenings filled with the quiet companionship of Mr. Collins. They would often sit by the fire, sipping tea or scotch depending on the mood, talking about the wizard’s past adventures and far-flung travels. Remus had almost allowed himself to believe that he had found a place where his affliction didn’t matter. 

Everything changed overnight. 

The trouble had started with a routine trip to the Ministry to pick up his Wolfsbane Potion. With the full moon only days away, Remus needed it to maintain control during his transformation. But that day, there had been none. The Ministry’s supplies had run dry, and in a rising panic, Remus went to every apothecary in Diagon Alley, pleading for them to brew it for him. The answer was always the same—there was no Wolfsbane to be had, not until a delayed shipment of rare herbs arrived. Desperation clawed at him as the full moon loomed closer. 

When the night finally came, Remus did the only thing he could—he locked himself in the cellar beneath the guest house on Mr. Collins’ estate, far away from the main house and anyone who could be harmed. He chained himself tightly, trying to prepare for the agonizing transformation. But without the Wolfsbane, Remus knew that the wolf was savage, uncontrollable. As the change tore through his body, so too did the creature’s instincts, stronger than any chain he had prepared. The bonds snapped, and the beast roamed the grounds, its hunger and rage unleashed. The wolf howled to the moon, its cries cutting through the still night air as it hunted the estate, searching for prey. 

Mr. Collins’ housekeeper had been outside that night, restless and unable to sleep. She had been wandering through the gardens when the wolf appeared, a massive shadow with glowing eyes. In a split second, it lunged. Only the quick intervention of Mr. Collins, who had been awakened by the howling, had saved her. He subdued the wolf before it could do any real damage, but the incident left its mark. 

The next morning, Remus awoke in human form, bruised, aching, and filled with dread. He didn’t need to hear Mr. Collins' words to know what was coming. When he entered the kitchen, his pay was already waiting for him on the counter, along with a leather trunk packed with his few belongings. On top of the trunk rested a book from Mr. Collins' private collection—Remus's favourite, one he had admired during his long nights in the library. The wizard had even engraved the trunk with Remus’s initials, a final gesture of parting kindness. 

Beside it, a note in Mr. Collins’ elegant script read simply: Thank you for your service. 

It was over. Whatever peace he had found there was gone, lost in a single night. 

When Remus came back to London, the weight of his situation bore down on him like a suffocating fog. He needed a place to live, but the few Galleons he had saved were barely enough to cover the cost of a small studio, let alone food and the Wolfsbane Potion that he relied on every month. He ran the calculations over and over in his head—if he paid for rent, he’d only have enough to survive for a couple of months before everything dried up. 

That was when he met a young wizard at the Leaky Cauldron, selling an old, battered car for next to nothing. The decision had been easy. The car was cheaper than rent, and living in it meant he could stretch his money long enough to eat and scrape by while searching for work. So, Remus took it, and for two months now, the car had become his home—an old, rusting shelter parked in the backstreets of Muggle London. But work never came. Not for someone like him. 

Each Friday became a routine of survival. Remus would head to the Leaky Cauldron, where the kindly innkeeper allowed him to sit down with a free bowl of soup and a cup of tea. Sometimes, if the inn wasn’t fully booked, he was even allowed to use one of the rooms to take a hot shower, a luxury he was rarely afforded. Those brief moments of warmth and comfort were fleeting, but he clung to them like a lifeline. 

After his shower, he’d walk back to the Ministry, heading straight to the Wizarding Work Bureau, where hope flickered and died week after week. Every Friday, he found himself standing before the same brown-haired clerk. And every Friday, her reply was the same: nothing new, no work available. The expression on her face was always tired, indifferent. Remus couldn’t blame her—his situation was just another file in a growing stack. Another life falling through the cracks. 

He’d leave the bureau and step into the great hall of the Ministry, watching witches and wizards bustling about their business, oblivious to the fact that his world was crumbling. He wondered sometimes if he could even blame them. After all, his affliction was real, dangerous, and he understood their fear. But understanding didn’t make it easier to live with. He had grown thinner, his clothes hung loosely on his frame, and his face had become gaunt, his eyes shadowed by dark circles that deepened with each restless night spent in the backseat of his car. At just 28, streaks of grey had already woven through his hair, and he looked older than his years—like the ghost of the man he had once been. 

He was about to leave the Ministry, ready to disappear into the crowded streets once more, when something stopped him. A glimpse of black hair. For a moment, he thought he was imagining it—his tired mind playing tricks on him—but then he saw her again.  

Eliana. 

It all came rushing back to him in an instant, as if the past had never let him go. Eliana had arrived at Hogwarts during their sixth year, transferring from an old, distinguished town in Italy. Her beauty had been striking—impossible to ignore—and it wasn’t long before she caught the attention of everyone. Sirius, however, had despised her from the moment he noticed the colour of her tie. Ellie and her younger sister had been sorted into Slytherin. But Remus had seen the look in his friend's eyes, the disdain that masked something deeper.  

It wasn’t just the house she’d been placed in; it was the undeniable pull she had over him. She was one of the most captivating girls Remus had ever laid eyes on, and though Sirius never admitted it, Remus knew he felt the same. They had fought constantly—Sirius and Eliana—bickering in the halls, trading insults in class, to the point where even the professors made a point of keeping them apart. 

But everything shifted that summer. Sirius had run away from his family, severing ties with the House of Black once and for all. When they returned to Hogwarts for their final year, something about him had changed. Remus noticed how Sirius’s silver eyes lingered on Ellie now, no longer filled with resentment, but something softer. By Christmas, they were holding hands, sitting together at meals, whispering in quiet corners. They were inseparable, and it wasn’t long before everyone was talking about how perfect they were for each other—two rebels who had found solace in each other’s arms. 

Everyone agreed they were made for each other—everyone except Eliana’s family. Her parents couldn’t accept that their eldest daughter, heir to an old and revered lineage, was in love with the disowned son of one of the most infamous wizarding families. The Blacks may have been prestigious, but Sirius’s rebellion had tarnished their name in the eyes of the pure-blood elite. Yet, despite the tension, Eliana stood by him. She had promised that one day, she would confront her family, make them understand. But that day never came. 

Everything fell apart. Darkness had crept into Sirius’s world, and when Remus told Eliana what he had done, to Peter and James – and Lily, the crimes he’d committed, she refused to believe it. She couldn’t. They fought—terribly, violently—words flung at each other like curses. A month later, she disappeared. Without a word, she left, and no one knew where she had gone. Remus had tried to reach her, sending letters to her parents, even tracking down her younger sister, begging for answers. But there had been no replies, just silence. A year later, he found out her family had sold their house in London. Ellie had vanished from his life, as though she had never existed at all. 

She left the Ministry, and Remus followed, keeping his distance, too afraid to call out, too afraid to shatter the fragile image of her that had lingered in his mind for years. What if she wasn’t the same? What if the Eliana he remembered—the one who had disappeared so suddenly—was gone, replaced by someone colder, more distant? Her hurried steps echoed in the quiet streets until she reached the door of the Leaky Cauldron. Remus watched from the shadows as she slipped inside. He hesitated for a moment, then followed. 

She made her way to the bar, her movements quick and deliberate. He stayed back, watching, listening, his heart hammering in his chest. He heard her voice, unmistakable even after all these years. 

“Fire whiskey, please.” 

That voice—it sent a shiver through him. It was hers, no doubt about it. He could have recognized it anywhere. 

He stood at a distance, watching as she downed the glass in one swift gulp, her fingers gripping the empty glass as if trying to hold on to something far more elusive. 

“One more,” she said, her voice steady, but there was an edge to it—something raw and unguarded. 

The bartender frowned but obliged, pouring another glass. She tossed it back just as quickly. 

“In fact,” Eliana said, placing a piece of gold on the counter, “just give me the whole bottle.” 

The bartender raised an eyebrow. “Careful with that,” he warned. “It’s strong.” 

She scoffed. “Strong is exactly what I need right now.” 

She grabbed the bottle and turned—only to find herself face-to-face with Remus. Their eyes locked. For a moment, the world seemed to stop, suspended in the charged space between them. The bottle slipped from her grasp, but before it could hit the floor, Remus caught it with a quick flick of his hand. 

“Careful with that,” he echoed the bartender's words, offering her a small, shy smile as he handed the bottle back to her. 

Eliana stood there, stunned, her expression unreadable. She blinked, seemingly unsure of what to say, then turned back to the bar, grabbing an empty glass. After a long pause, she took a deep breath and finally spoke. 

“Shall we... sit?” she asked quietly. 

Remus frowned, feeling a twinge of disappointment. He hadn’t expected her to rush into his arms, not after everything, but he hadn’t expected her to be so... indifferent. They found a quiet, dimly lit corner, away from the crowd, and sat down. The air between them felt thick, like an unspoken question hanging there, unanswered. 

“I didn’t know you were in London,” Remus said, breaking the silence. His voice was softer than he intended, as if he feared that if he didn’t speak, she might vanish again. 

“You weren’t supposed to know,” she replied, pouring the fire whiskey into two glasses and sliding one toward him. 

He took it, feeling the warmth of the liquid as he sipped, the heat spreading through his chest. “How long have you been here?” he asked. 

“I arrived yesterday,” she said, swirling the amber liquid in her glass. “I’m leaving tomorrow.” 

Remus frowned. “Do you come to London often?” 

Her eyes stayed fixed on her drink. “First time in five years,” she muttered. “I wasn’t supposed to ever come back.” 

That, he had guessed.  

“So, why are you here?” His voice was barely more than a whisper, but the question hung in the air, heavy with the weight of the years between them. 

She took another sip, her gaze distant. “It’s Clara’s birthday. I came to visit her.” 

“Clara’s in London?” Remus was genuinely surprised. Eliana’s younger sister had left the city around the same time she did. 

“She’s been here for two years now,” Eliana replied, finally looking up at him. “She studied healing in America, but she got an opportunity to be a resident at St. Mungo’s.” 

Remus felt a pang of guilt. He hadn’t known. He’d never seen Clara in all this time, never even heard whispers of her name. 

“Usually, she comes back to Italy for her birthday, but this year she’s on call, so I thought I’d surprise her,” Eliana continued, her voice quieter now, as if the weight of everything was pressing down on her. 

“And you?” Remus asked, his voice low. “You’re in Italy now?” 

She nodded, but there was no warmth in the gesture. He had thought she had returned to her family after leaving London, but he didn’t know where nor did he have the means to search for her. Over time, he had accepted that she was gone, that she didn’t want to be found. 

“I looked for you,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a whisper. “The first year. I wrote to your parents. They sold the house, and I couldn’t find where you had gone. I wanted to write, but—” 

Eliana reached out, her hand resting on his. The touch was sudden, unexpected, and he nearly flinched from the warmth of it. He hadn’t felt her touch in years. 

She used to be so kind to him. They’d study together when Sirius was too tired to care. They’d spend whole nights in the library, preparing for the next test. Often, they’d compare their answers and have burst of laughs. And when she had guessed his condition, she never pulled back, on the contrary, she used to help him and the boys prepare for the full moon. She took care of him after, bringing him hot chocolate the following mornings after a transformation.  

“I left for a reason, Remus,” she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of something final, something unspoken. “I didn’t want to be found.” 

“Why?” he asked, his voice breaking slightly. 

She looked away, her fingers slipping from his hand as quickly as they had touched it. Remus could see the hurt in her eyes, the grief she had carried for so long. She had been mourning—Sirius, their future, everything she had lost—but was it enough to leave without a word? Was the pain of losing Sirius worth abandoning everything else? 

She didn’t answer the question burning on his lips, but she took his hand, her touch soft, hesitant. “I never meant to hurt you,” she whispered. 

He knew she had been angry—angry with him for not believing in Sirius’s innocence, for standing against her when she had tried so hard to defend the man she loved. Their last conversation had been bitter, sharp words exchanged like hexes. She had called him a horrible friend, accused him of betraying Sirius’s memory, of believing that his best friend could be capable of murder and treachery. And he, in his grief, had thrown her words back at her, refusing to believe that she could still defend the man who had killed Peter, who had betrayed James and Lily’s trust. Who had made his own godson an orphan.  

Remus shook his head, squeezing her hand gently. “I didn’t mean to either.” 

She laughed softly, but it was a sad, hollow sound. She pulled her hand away, running her fingers nervously through her dark hair. “I didn’t plan on seeing you again,” she admitted. “I wasn’t supposed to be here.” 

“You must have known I wasn’t far...” he replied quietly, studying her face, trying to read the thoughts behind her guarded expression. 

She shrugged, her lips curving into a faint, almost wistful smile. “To be honest, Remus, I thought you’d have left London by now. You never liked it here.” 

She was right, of course. He had always craved the quiet solitude of the countryside, the peace it offered compared to the chaos of city life. But circumstances had tied him to this place. “I don’t really have a choice at the moment.” 

Eliana’s gaze flickered with curiosity, but she didn’t push. She could see the weariness in his face, the gauntness in his frame, and he didn’t want to burden her with the details of his life. Not after all this time. 

“So,” he said, changing the subject as he poured them another round of fire whiskey, “what are you doing now, back home?” 

She hesitated for a moment, as if weighing her words. “I’m a barrister,” she said finally, her voice soft but steady. 

Of course she was, Remus thought. She had always had a fierce sense of justice, always fighting for the underdog. It seemed fitting. She studied him with a small, knowing smile. “It suits me, don’t you think?” 

She had not been able to fight for Sirius.  

Remus smiled back, but there was something faint about it, as if he couldn’t quite summon the warmth he used to feel. “And are you happy?” he asked, his eyes falling to her left hand, where he had noticed the glint of a ring earlier. 

Eliana glanced down at the ring, as if surprised to see it there herself. “Yes,” she answered softly. “I am.” 

“He’s a lucky man,” Remus said, his tone genuine, though there was a flicker of something unspoken in his eyes. 

Her expression faltered for just a moment, her gaze clouding over with something unreadable. 

They talked for what felt like hours, dancing around the past, avoiding the name that hung between them like a shadow. They didn’t dare speak of Sirius, both too afraid that the mention of him would reignite the pain and bitterness that had driven them apart all those years ago. Eliana tried, more than once, to ask about Remus—how he was really doing—but it was clear she already knew. She could see the struggle etched into his skin. 

At one point, she offered to order dinner, but Remus refused, his pride too strong to accept her charity, especially from her. He could feel her pity, and he hated it. The night wore on, and eventually, Ellie glanced out the window, watching as the sky darkened and snow began to fall, dusting the streets in a soft, silent white. 

“I should go,” she said, standing up reluctantly.  

Remus rose with her. “Let me walk you outside,” he offered. 

She shook her head. “There’s no need.” 

But Remus reached for her hand, and she let him take it. His eyes locked onto hers, his voice low and serious. “If this is the last time I see you, Ellie, at least let me walk with you. I didn’t get to say a proper goodbye last time.” 

She hesitated, then nodded. 

Outside, the air was crisp, the snowflakes catching the glow of the Christmas lights strung along the street. The festive scene felt oddly out of place, the cheerful lights at odds with the heaviness between them. Eliana walked beside him in silence for a while, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. 

“Are you living far from here?” she asked, glancing sideways at him. “I’m just around the corner. Maybe we could walk together?” 

“I’m fine,” Remus said, offering her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

She stopped, then, looking up at him with concern. Before he could protest, she stepped into his arms, wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace. He rested his chin on the top of her head, breathing in the faint scent of her perfume, a familiar comfort from a time long past. 

“I can’t shake the feeling that you’re not,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. Her green eyes shimmered with tears, and for a moment, Remus felt something in him break. 

“Don’t worry about me,” he said lightly, scoffing to cover the ache in his chest. He pointed to the old red car parked just a few feet away. “I’ve got all I need.” 

Eliana pulled away from him, frowning as she walked up to the car, her brow furrowed. “Is this... yours?” 

“Not bad, eh?” Remus said with a laugh, trying to brush it off. 

But it was absurd. She came from a world of wealth and privilege, and here he was, trying to play off the fact that he was living out of a beat-up car. 

“Well, it’s got style, I’ll give you that,” she said with a soft smile, but then her expression shifted. She peered through the windows of the car, her face growing serious. 

“Remus,” she asked, her voice quiet, “are you... living in your car?” 

He sighed, tilting his head back to look at the sky. “It’s just temporary,” he said, the words feeling hollow even as he spoke them. 

Eliana stepped closer, her hand finding his once again. Her face was filled with concern, the same look she used to give him at Hogwarts, whenever she worried for his well-being. 

All those years, always worrying about him. 

And here she was, still doing it. 

She wore the same worried look when Sirius would show too much affection towards her in front of him. She always glanced at Remus, a quick look to make sure he was alright. And every time, he ignored it—ignored that pitiful gaze he despised so much. 

“Let me show you something,” she said, her voice soft but firm. 

She took his hand, and together they walked through the blurry, illuminated streets. The night felt strange, the lights of the city glowing brighter than usual, casting everything in an almost dreamlike haze. They stopped in front of an old Victorian building, its weathered brickwork speaking of better days. Without a word, Eliana opened the front door, and Remus stepped in, his heart heavy but his feet following her without hesitation. 

The entrance led through a narrow, dimly lit hallway with a winding staircase, where the sounds of distant conversations echoed faintly from above. Inside, the flat was modest but charming. Tall sash windows framed the streets below, and the living room, with its classic crown mouldings, felt warm despite the unused fireplace. Wooden floorboards creaked beneath her feet. 

“Clara’s rented this place when she came back to London,” Eliana said as she flicked on the lights with a casual wave of her hand. “But she moved in with her partner six months ago, so now she just uses it as storage. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s comfortable.” 

“It’s nice,” Remus murmured, still standing in the doorway, hands shoved deep into his pockets. 

Ellie frowned and gestured for him to come in properly. “Please, make yourself at home.” 

Remus cleared his throat and stepped further inside, still cautious, as if he were afraid he might knock something over or leave a mark where he didn’t belong. Eliana removed her black cloak, revealing an all-black outfit underneath. The simplicity made her seem almost otherworldly in the soft light. 

“There’s a small living room here, the kitchen’s just over there,” she said, pointing to a tiny space to her right. “An office through that door, and a decent-sized bedroom next to it. The bathroom’s at the end of the hall.” 

As she spoke, Remus couldn’t help but wonder why she was describing all this to him. This was the kind of flat he couldn’t even dream of renting. He wasn’t sure why she had brought him here—until he felt something cold press into his hand. Looking down, he saw a key. 

“What—” 

“Clara’s moving to France in a couple of months,” Eliana explained, cutting him off before he could protest. “There’s still two years left on the lease, and it’s a nightmare finding someone reliable to sublet. The owner’s a witch who only rents to people like us. It would be a waste to leave it empty when I know you could use it.” 

Remus shook his head, immediately trying to hand the key back to her. “I can’t accept this. It’s a kind offer, but—” 

“But what?” she interrupted; her tone sharp but not unkind. “It’s almost winter, Remus. You can’t live in your car. I won’t allow it.” 

He scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping before he could stop it. “You haven’t cared where I’ve lived for the last five years. Why now?” 

The words sounded harsher than he had intended, but he couldn’t take them back. 

Eliana didn’t flinch. She didn’t even seem angry, just... resigned. “I understand why you’d feel that way,” she said softly. “I know I’ve hurt you, but believe me, Remus, I didn’t want to leave you behind like that. It wasn’t just my choice.” 

“Then why did you?” His voice was low, but the question cut through the space between them like a knife. 

She sighed, running a hand through her long hair. “I was angry. Angry that you could believe such awful things about him.” She didn’t dare speak his name. “I needed you to fight with me, to at least give him a chance, to hear his side of the story. And when you didn’t... I felt like I was losing everything. You didn’t just turn your back on him—you left me alone too.” 

Remus closed his eyes for a moment, trying to stave off the familiar sting of guilt. It was the same argument they’d had all those years ago, and yet here it was again, haunting them both. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I wasn’t the friend you needed. I’m sorry I abandoned you.” He held out the key again, offering it back. “But I can’t accept this, Ellie. I don’t need your pity.” 

She let out a hollow laugh, shaking her head. “Pity?” she echoed. “Is that really what you think this is?” 

What else could it be? 

“You’ve always tried to protect me,” Remus said quietly, his voice strained. “Even back at Hogwarts. I know you knew... how I felt.” 

He hesitated, but there was no need to finish. She knew. She had always known how he felt—how much he wished she didn’t love Sirius the way she did. And how much he wished Sirius didn’t love her back just as fiercely. They were soulmates, and it had always crushed him, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. 

“This isn’t pity, Remus,” she said, sitting down on the couch, her fingers pressing into her temples as though she could push away the weight of the conversation. She looked up at him, her eyes pleading. “It’s care. It’s love. I can’t stand the idea of you being homeless, living in your car. I had no idea things were this bad.” 

Remus sighed, his exhaustion overwhelming him. He sat down too, sinking into the cushions beside her, his body heavy with the burden of everything left unsaid. 

“Has it been this way since I left?” she asked, her gaze fixed on him. 

He shook his head, not wanting her to carry the full weight of his struggles. But he didn’t have the strength to lie, either. The truth was somewhere in between, and as they sat in the quiet flat, the years of pain and silence between them felt heavier than ever. 

“It was fine for a while,” he began, hesitating. “But being what I am… you know. People fear me. They’re right to.” 

Eliana edged closer, her expression softening as she reached for his hand. “No one should fear you.” 

Remus gave a hollow laugh. “I’m a monster, Ellie. Quite literally.” 

Her hand moved to his chin, gently turning his face toward hers. “Look at me,” she said firmly. “You are not a monster. You’re the kindest, most thoughtful person I’ve ever known.” 

“Kindness doesn’t matter much when I turn into a wild animal every full moon,” he muttered, eyes drifting to the window. “Even with wolfsbane, I’m just a shadow of myself, too drained to do anything but exist.” 

His gaze traced the night sky, as if searching for answers in the stars. “It’s coming again… two days from now. I’m already worn out. Everything hurts.” 

Eliana’s voice broke as she whispered, “I’m so sorry.” A tear slipped down her cheek. 

“It is what it is,” Remus replied, standing slowly and moving toward the door. 

“Stay,” she called after him, her voice trembling. 

He paused, eyes closing against the weight of her plea. 

“Please, Remus,” she said again, stepping closer. “Let this be your home, just for a while. Let me give you a chance to rest, to not worry about where you’ll sleep tomorrow.” 

His heart clenched painfully. He turned to her, eyes brimming with unshed tears. “There’s only one thing I want, Ellie,” he whispered. “Don’t leave. I can’t be alone anymore. I need a friend.” 

He broke down, his voice cracking under the weight of his confession. Eliana was at his side in an instant, pulling him into a tight embrace. 

“I can’t stay, Remus,” she said softly. 

He looked down, his heart sinking further. He knew she had a life elsewhere, with someone waiting for her. Someone she loved. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice hollow. 

Ellie gave a nervous laugh. “I didn’t want to see you again,” she admitted, her gaze locking with his. “I was terrified of this moment…” 

“Am I that frightening?” he tried to joke, though his heart wasn’t in it. 

She traced the scar on his face with a gentle touch. “Not at all,” she whispered, leaning in to press a soft kiss on his cheek. “You’re everything but.” 

Her hand lingered on his skin, their faces now inches apart. Remus felt the pull, the uncontrollable urge rising within him, the wildness that came with the moon. But he fought it, grounding himself in the moment. 

When she kissed his other cheek, the rawness of it nearly undid him. Her breath warmed his neck, and before he could stop himself, he leaned into her, eyes closed against the flood of desire. 

“Ellie…” he murmured, his control slipping. 

“This is the last time we’ll see each other,” she whispered against his skin. “Don’t ruin it.” 

Her hands found his bare skin, fingers tracing the edge of his shirt, moving lower. His mind spun. He felt as though he were betraying the memory of his lost brother, but the weight of her closeness, the tenderness he had craved for so long, was too much to resist. If pity was all she had to offer, then maybe… maybe it was enough. 

The memory of one past night haunted him—one of those memories that never faded, no matter how much time passed. It was their last year at Hogwarts. The entire school had descended on Hogsmeade for one last wild celebration, all the houses mingling, no divisions, no rivalries—just freedom and exhilaration. Remus had felt it too, for a while, but exhaustion caught up with him before the night was over. He decided to return to the dorms early, slipping away unnoticed, or so he thought. 

He hadn’t realized that Sirius and Ellie weren’t with the rest of the group when he made his way back to the Gryffindor Tower. He had planned to take a long bath and go to bed, hoping to escape the noise and chaos that usually drained him. 

But when he opened the dormitory door, something stopped him cold. 

There, pinned against the wall, was Eliana. Sirius was with her, moving against her, his breath heavy. Her hands had been tangled in his hair, her back arching into him as if seeking more. Remus had frozen. Sirius’s trousers were bunched around his ankles, his shirt barely covering his body, and Ellie—her clothes had been dishevelled, exposing enough for Remus to know what was happening. 

He had been wanting to turn around, to give them their privacy, but something held him in place. Ellie’s eyes met his. For a heartbeat, he was sure she saw him. Her lips parted, and for that brief moment, he swore there was something more than surprise in her gaze. Was it… desire? For him? 

No, he had imagined it. 

Shaken, he had flown back to the common room, trying to focus on a book, anything to erase the scene from his mind. Half an hour later, Sirius and Ellie had reappeared, laughing as though nothing had happened. Sirius joked about Remus turning in early, while Ellie said nothing, avoiding his gaze completely. He had never brought it up. He convinced himself it was a trick of the light, a figment of his imagination. Surely, she hadn’t seen him at all. 

And now, with a broken heart and trembling hands, he gave in.  

She was kissing him, and as he pressed his body against hers, he couldn’t help but recall that night—couldn’t help but recreate the image of her against the wall, except this time, it was him pinning her there. His breath came ragged in her ear, and he fought to keep control. He had imagined this for so long—what she might taste like, how her body would feel wrapped around him. 

Ellie unbuckled his belt, her hands steady, as his trousers fell to the floor. When she pulled off her shirt, revealing herself to him, he couldn’t breathe. She was perfect. More perfect than he had ever dared to imagine. 

For so long, he had envied Sirius, envied him for knowing her in ways Remus never would. But now, with her in front of him, he felt a shame deeper than anything he had known. 

But the desire, the wildness in him, wouldn’t be silenced. He bent to kiss her skin—her lips, her neck, her collarbone—his breath hot and uncontrolled. He wasn’t a man anymore. He was something primal, something desperate. Ellie tilted her head back, and he slid his mouth lower, removing the last barrier of clothing between them. 

When his lips found the warmth between her legs, her quiet moan broke the silence, sending a shiver down his spine. She grabbed his hair, pulling him closer as his tongue moved between her folds, tasting her. She moaned again, her fingers gripping him tighter, and for a moment, he forgot everything. Forgot who he was, forgot who she was. All that mattered was the taste of her, the feel of her skin under his tongue. 

He could stay like this forever, he thought. But the ache between his own legs, the pressure building inside him, refused to be ignored. He stood, lifting her in his arms, carrying her to the couch. Ellie’s legs parted without hesitation, inviting him in. He saw that same look in her eyes—the one he had seen all those years ago. Perhaps, he hadn’t been imagining it after all. 

His breath hitched as he nudged at her entrance, and when he pushed into her, they both let out a gasp—surprise and pleasure all at once. He moved slowly at first, trying to remind himself to be gentle, to be soft. But he couldn’t hold back. Not with her. He wanted to feel her completely, to lose himself in her warmth. 

Her moans grew louder as he quickened his pace, the sound of his body moving against hers driving him to the edge. She arched beneath him, her breasts rising and falling with each thrust, and he was lost—growling low in his throat, forgetting everything but this moment, this need. 

Her legs wrapped around his waist as he pounded into her, harder now, his humanity slipping away. And then, he felt her tighten around him, her body trembling with the release he had been chasing.  

With her eyes closed, he wondered for a moment if she was thinking of somebody else, of him or the man that awaited her back home. 

But Ellie whispered his name in a breathless gasp, and it was all he needed. He followed her over the edge, spilling into her with a moan, his body shaking from the force of it. 

For a moment, the world stood still. 

As the last waves of pleasure faded, Remus pulled away, his mind reeling. What had he done? His heart pounded in his chest, guilt flooding him as he ran a trembling hand over his face. He wasn’t meant for this—not with her. Not with Ellie. Not with the woman who had once belonged with his best friend. 

Eliana leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder, her voice soft and broken. “I would have loved you so much, Remus… if I hadn’t loved him.” 

“I know,” he whispered, his chest tight. 

Her words hit him harder than he expected, words he had longed to hear but never allowed himself to hope for. He had known, from the moment they met, that she would always belong to Sirius and Sirius to her. But to hear her say it—it tore him apart. 

“In another life, maybe,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. 

He let out a bitter chuckle. “Maybe.” 

“I wanted this,” she said, her voice trembling. “I hope you did too.” 

He looked at her, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She was beautiful, even in her sadness. But it wasn’t him she loved. It never would be. 

“I wish it had been you,” she whispered, her voice cracking.  

“But it’s him,” he replied.  

“It’s always going to be him,” she whispered with a trembling voice. 

He nodded, understanding in the pit of his stomach. “I get it.” 

Ellie touched his face, her thumb brushing against his cheek. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you. You deserve to be loved, Remus, if only you could see yourself the way I see you.” 

Remus closed his eyes, fighting back the tears. It was selfish to want more from her, to ask her to stay. He knew that now. He’d never have her fully, but this—this was something. Wasn’t it better than nothing? 

“One day, you’ll meet someone,” she said softly. “Someone who will love you completely, without fear or hesitation. Please, don’t push them away when you do.” 

He let out a hollow laugh, the same words James had told him countless times. It had never felt true, and it didn’t now. No one would accept him, not as he was. But he nodded, if only to make her stop crying. 

Ellie kissed him once more, her lips lingering for a moment longer than before. “I don’t think our paths will cross again,” she whispered, tears spilling down her face. “It’s better this way.” 

Remus shook his head, his heart aching. His eyes pleaded with her. “This is goodbye, then,” he said, his voice breaking. 

She nodded. “This is goodbye.” 

Defeated, Remus rested his head against the cushion, his eyelids growing heavier with each passing second. The weight of exhaustion settled over him like a thick blanket. He felt her arms around him, warm and familiar, offering a fleeting comfort. Ellie’s embrace tightened gently, and she pressed a soft kiss against his cheek, lingering just long enough for him to feel the warmth of her breath on his skin. 

For a moment, the world seemed to quiet, and he let himself sink into that small, stolen tenderness—something he knew would soon slip away. 

“I’m sorry you lost the love of your life,” he said, the words catching in his throat. 

Remus quietly surrendered to the sleep that had been tugging at him for too long, its embrace pulling him deeper into a long-overdue rest. As the weight of consciousness slipped away, he felt himself sinking, drifting into the quiet abyss where exhaustion finally gave way to peace. 

When Remus woke the next morning, soft sunlight filtered through the window, casting a golden glow across the room. The duvet from the bedroom had been gently draped over him, a small gesture of care left in the silence. The apartment was still, empty. 

Ellie was gone. 

Rising slowly, he walked to the kitchen, where a folded note lay beside an envelope. His chest tightened as he opened it, reading the words in her familiar handwriting: 

“You’re sorry I’ve lost the love of my life, Remus. But I’m sorry you haven’t met yours.” 

He hesitated before opening the envelope. Inside, the key to the flat rested, cold and waiting. Etched into its surface was a single word: "Yet." 

[vkeyqqq]

🚬🪬🌖

« Remus rolled cigarettes himself and despite the fact that there were not many left, he could never refuse Sirius.. »

(Please click on the picture to make the quality better🙏🙏🙏)

I AM NOT CALLING FOR ANYTHING AND I AM NOT PROMOTING ANYTHING〰️

[latenightreadingpdf]

Secrets of the Heart - Marauders Era

Chapter 5 - Prank Gone Wrong

Secrets of the Heart Masterlist

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Aurora was running a bit late for Potions that morning, and as she hurried down the corridor toward the classroom, she had no idea what awaited her on the other side of the door. The Marauders had gotten away with their prank on the Slytherins the day before, but retaliation was inevitable.

As soon as she stepped into the classroom, a loud splat echoed through the air, and a thick, slimy green substance poured down from above, coating her from head to toe. She stood there frozen, dripping in goo as laughter erupted from the Slytherins. The slimy mess clung to her hair and robes, the sickly green substance dripping onto the stone floor. Her stomach tightened, embarrassment flashing through her chest.

The Marauders, walking in shortly behind her, immediately jumped to her side. Sirius was the first to reach her, James and Remus close behind. Peter followed a few steps back, his face a mixture of shock and concern.

"Aurora, are you alright?" Sirius asked, his voice unusually serious as he tried to brush some of the goop off her shoulder.

Professor Slughorn came bustling over, his face red with anger. "What is the meaning of this?" he barked, his eyes scanning the room. “Miss Haven, are you hurt?”

Aurora shook her head, swallowing her frustration. "I'm fine," she said, though her tone was tight.

The Slytherins were still laughing, their smug faces only making the situation worse. Aurora glared at them, feeling a wave of anger surge through her.

Professor Slughorn turned his sharp gaze to the group of Slytherins, his voice stern. “Twenty points from Slytherin for this childish behavior, and detention for all of you. I won’t have pranks of this sort in my classroom.”

The Slytherins’ laughter quickly died down, though a few were still smirking.

Slughorn turned back to Aurora. “One of you boys—take Miss Haven to get cleaned up. You can return when you’re done.”

Both James and Sirius jumped at the chance.

“I’ll take her!” James offered, stepping forward.

“Absolutely not, I’ll take her,” Sirius argued, pushing James back slightly.

“I saw her first!”

“Oh, please, like she’s going to want you helping her.”

As they started to bicker, Remus rolled his eyes. Without a word, he gently placed a hand on Aurora’s shoulder, his touch comforting. “Come on, let’s get you out of here,” he said softly, guiding her toward the door before James and Sirius could even notice.

Aurora followed Remus out of the classroom, her head still swimming with anger and embarrassment. They walked in silence until they reached the Prefect's Bathroom, its large, ornate door looming in front of them. Remus muttered the password, and the door swung open.

She stepped inside and, for the first time since the prank, let out a small sigh. “I didn’t know you were a prefect,” she said, her voice tinged with surprise.

Remus gave her a small smile. “Yeah, well, it comes in handy when the others want to pull off their stunts,” he said, grabbing a towel and offering it to her.

Aurora leaned against the sink, sitting herself up on the counter. Her legs dangled as she reached for the towel, trying to get the slimy substance off her face. Remus stood in front of her, closer than usual, and he started gently working the green goo out of her hair, his movements careful and precise.

“I can’t believe those Slytherins,” Aurora muttered, her frustration bubbling back to the surface. “They’re lucky Professor Slughorn caught them. I was this close to hexing them.”

Remus chuckled softly, his fingers still working through the tangles in her hair. “That’s what you get for being friends with the Marauders,” he teased, though there was a warmth in his tone.

She rolled her eyes, a small smile breaking through her frustration. “I’m not so sure ‘friends’ is the right word. You guys are a lot to handle.”

Remus smiled, the corners of his lips twitching upward. “You’ll get used to it. We have our moments.”

For a brief moment, there was quiet between them. The only sound was the water trickling from one of the golden faucets and the soft rustle of Remus’s fingers through her hair. The tension from earlier seemed to melt away, replaced by a strange sense of calm between them.

Once most of the goo was gone, Aurora let out a breath. “Thanks,” she said, meeting his eyes. “For this.”

Remus stepped back slightly, giving her a reassuring smile. “Anytime. You should probably head back to your dorm, though. Get properly cleaned up.”

Aurora nodded, hopping down from the counter. “Yeah, I think I’ll skip Potions for today. I’ll see you at lunch.”

“I’ll let Slughorn know,” Remus replied. “See you at lunch.”

As Aurora left the bathroom and made her way back to the Hufflepuff common room, she felt her anger begin to dissipate. At least Remus had been kind enough to help, and the Slytherins’ prank hadn’t completely ruined her day.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Back in the Potions classroom, Remus walked in and took his seat next to Sirius and James, who immediately bombarded him with questions.

“What happened? Is she alright?” James asked, leaning forward.

“Did you get all the slime out?” Sirius added, peering at him intently.

Remus held up a hand, clearly amused by their concern. “She’s fine. She’s going back to her dorm to shower and change. You’ll see her at lunch.”

James and Sirius shared a look of mild disappointment but settled back into their seats, clearly eager to see Aurora again and probably plot some sort of retaliation against the Slytherins.

Remus, for his part, simply smiled to himself. It was only the first few weeks of the term, and yet Aurora was quickly becoming someone they all cared about—maybe more than she realized.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

By the time lunch rolled around, the Great Hall was buzzing with chatter. The long tables were piled high with platters of food, and students from every house were scattered around, catching up between classes. The Marauders had already claimed their usual spot at the Gryffindor table, with Sirius and James deeply engrossed in an animated discussion about the upcoming Quidditch season while Peter eagerly listened.

Remus, however, sat quietly, keeping an eye on the entrance. After what had happened in Potions, he wasn’t sure if Aurora would show up right away. He was halfway through his plate when he spotted her entering the hall. She was dressed in fresh robes, her hair cleaned and free of the slimy mess from earlier. She looked around, seemingly scanning the Hufflepuff table where her housemates were sitting. But before she could make her way over, Sirius caught sight of her.

“There she is!” Sirius exclaimed, waving his hand enthusiastically. “Oi, Haven! Over here!”

James, noticing her as well, grinned and joined in. “Come sit with us, Aurora! We saved you a seat!”

Aurora hesitated, her eyes flickering between her housemates at the Hufflepuff table and the Marauders, who were all looking at her with wide grins and beckoning hands. After a moment of deliberation, she sighed softly and made her way over to the Gryffindor table, slipping into the empty seat next to Remus.

“Look at that, she actually came back to us,” Sirius teased as she sat down.

Aurora smirked, shaking her head. “Maybe I just enjoy watching you all embarrass yourselves.”

Sirius clutched his chest dramatically. “Ouch, Haven, you wound me.”

James leaned in, his attention still half-focused on the Quidditch discussion. “Anyway, Aurora, you’ve got to come watch one of the matches when the season starts. Hufflepuff’s decent, but Gryffindor—we’re going to win the Cup this year. We’ve been training for weeks.”

Aurora raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? What makes you so sure?”

James’s eyes lit up. “With me as Seeker and Sirius as Beater, it’s practically a given. Plus, Remus here,” he gestured toward him, “keeps us in line.”

“Right,” Remus said with a wry smile. “Because I’m always the voice of reason.”

Peter nodded enthusiastically. “He really is, you know.”

Aurora couldn’t help but chuckle. “I don’t doubt it.”

As the conversation drifted back toward Quidditch, Aurora quietly picked at her food, listening to the boys’ banter. Sirius and James were getting louder, going back and forth about the best strategies for the upcoming match against Ravenclaw. They were completely engrossed in their debate, acting as if nothing else in the world mattered at that moment.

“Look, all I’m saying is, the Bludgers are key. If we can knock out their Chasers early—” Sirius started.

“Or,” James interrupted, “I catch the Snitch in the first ten minutes, and we win before they can even score.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “You say that every match.”

Aurora smirked at their antics but stayed quiet. She found herself glancing at Remus, who seemed to be the only one not diving into the Quidditch debate. He caught her eye and gave her a small, understanding smile, as if to say, Don’t mind them, they’re always like this.

“How’s the hair?” Remus asked softly, leaning closer so the others wouldn’t overhear.

Aurora gave a light shrug. “Mostly back to normal, thanks to you. I’ll still need another proper wash later, but I’ll survive.”

Remus nodded, his expression softening. “Good.”

As the conversation between the others continued, Aurora found herself relaxing a little more. Despite the chaotic morning and the embarrassment from the prank gone wrong, sitting with the Marauders wasn’t so bad. They were loud and a bit overwhelming, sure, but there was a warmth to their friendship that felt oddly comforting.

James suddenly turned to her again. “You ever play Quidditch, Aurora?”

“Not really,” she admitted, shaking her head. “I watched the matches at Beauxbatons, but never played myself. It’s not as popular there.”

“That’s a shame,” Sirius chimed in. “We’ll have to change that. You should at least try flying—get a feel for it. James’ll teach you.”

James grinned. “Yeah, I’ll show you the ropes. We’ll have you flying in no time.”

Aurora couldn’t help but smile at their enthusiasm. “I’ll think about it.”

Before she knew it, the lunch period was winding down, and students began trickling out of the Great Hall to head to their afternoon classes. Aurora stood, pushing her chair back.

“I should go,” she said, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. “Still need to clean up a bit before Herbology.”

“I’ve got that too. I’ll walk with you,” Remus offered.

Sirius and James immediately perked up. “What about us?” Sirius asked with a pout. “Aren’t we good enough to walk you to class?”

Aurora rolled her eyes playfully. “I think I’ve had enough of your Quidditch strategies for one lunch break.”

The boys groaned in mock disappointment. As she and Remus began to head out of the hall together, he glanced over at her, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“You know,” Remus said casually, “I sometimes go and watch them practice in the mornings. You should join me sometime.”

Aurora raised an eyebrow, surprised by the offer. “Watch them practice? Isn’t that kind of boring?”

Remus chuckled softly. “You’d be surprised. It’s not as boring as all their Quidditch talk.”

Aurora smiled. “Okay, I’ll think about it.”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

[fensherohair]

The Marauders & The Metamorphic Witch (Part 12)

Words: 2.4k Warning: None (If I'm wrong, please let me know) Pronouns used: She/Her - Use of (Y/N)

"They're up to something again," spoke Allegra, watching as (Y/N) entered the common room via the portrait, a small pile of books hooked under her arm. Marlene followed along, a bright smile on her lips as she waved over to Isolde and the Marauders around a table in the corner of the tower room. Peter seemed to be the center of attention, shaking with terror as he looked around with suspicion. Jumping at every shadow and every noise that seemed out of place. Sirius, James, and Remus tried their best to find what had pushed Peter to the point that he was scared of everything, more than normal. On the other hand, Isolde tried her hardest to offer soft comfort. 

"Hey Wolffe," Ulrica almost yelled, a wicked grin painted on her lips, malice shimmering in her eyes, as she left the comfort of the armchair near the fire. Samantha, Georgie, and Allegra watched as if they were about to watch the next episode of their favorite soap opera. (Y/N) On the other hand, didn't pay much attention. She'd habitually ignored those brave enough to call her by her last name outside her circle and the professors. "Yeah, you, I'm talking to you," arrogantly added Ulrica as if she was somehow under the impression when she spoke, everyone should listen to what she had to say. It was as if she believed herself to be the greatest witch and that she should be the center of the universe. 

"Tell us, Marlene," condescendingly started Allegra, turning her attention on the only other with (Y/N), intending to spread the torment to a previous victim. Although it was clear, Marlene was no longer the timid girl she'd previously been. She was more confident and happier now and knew her place. "What are you and this weirdo up to?" 

"You claim to be smart; figure it out," replied Marlene with a sharp edge to her words. Her comment struck so quickly it had taken Allegra back a little bit, surprised her even. 

"Is there a problem here?" came the voice of Finnick Hazard, one of Gryffindor's prefects. His twin sister Fennec was another and the Gryffindor Quidditch team captain. Both twins were known for giving doses of tough love but did so because they cared. There had been countless times Finnick had tutored those who fell behind or curved (Y/N) mischief before it got out of hand, just as Fennec could single-handedly keep the Marauders in check and scare the heebie-jeebies out of anyone. 

"Actually, there is," spoke Samantha, her wickedness remained intact as she sauntered over to the growing group. Clearly, her intentions were anything but honest, but Finnick turned his attention to her. "Marlene, (Y/N), and the Marauders are up to something again. If the secrecy is anything to go by, then it's against the school rules and will cost our house valuable points," she worded, attempting to get the six in trouble and further scare Peter into joining them. 

"And they won't tell anyone what it is when asked. I suspect the books will tell us, though," added Georgie, joining the rest of her friends. The same malicious smirk appeared on her features. She wanted to cause trouble, to hurt someone; it was her hobby. Three years later, she still felt disappointed and angry at the sorting hat for placing her in Gryffindor rather than Slytherin. 

Where the group of girls hoped to see reluctance and even fear in (Y/N)'s eyes, they were met with confusion. When Fennec appeared and asked to see the pile of books she'd gotten from the library, (Y/N) had complied and wordlessly handed them over, no trace of fear present. After all, she had nothing to hide. Fennec instantly noticed at least one book out of the ordinary but didn't question it. (Y/N) was smart for her age and creative, too, especially with her little experiments. 

"Advanced DADA and spells?" asked Fennec, moving her braided hair over her shoulder, a small grin appearing on her lips mere seconds later. "This is difficult for most grown-ups to achieve," she commented, assessing the other books. Anyone else Fennec would have questioned it more, but with the often curious metamorphmagi before her, there was little need to. 

"Just be glad it's not more mischief. Professor Slughorn has yet to reverse the spell on his storage cupboard," announced Finnick from behind (Y/N) and Marlene, "McGonagal hasn't gotten over her heart attack yet either," he added with softness, recalling when McGonagal had all but dragged (Y/N) and Sirius back to the common room, James following along behind after being scolded for something else. 

"In (Y/N)'s defense, the Slughorn one was a dare from James," called Remus from the table in the corner, a grin appearing across his lips. 

"I didn't mean to scare McGonagal, but my parents sure did mean that howler. My hearing still fuzzy from that," voiced (Y/N), a small chuckle escaping her as the memories of unintentionally scaring McGonagal come back, how the head of house lectured her before being marched off to Dumbledore's office. A letter was sent to her parents, which led to the howler practically screaming at her, or at least the second one did. The first had exploded spectacularly after being ignored for several days. 

"I don't see anything suspicious here. Nor have I noticed anything out of the ordinary," announced Fennec, carefully closing the books after inspecting them and returning them to (Y/N). "Remember Quidditch practice tomorrow at 5. Got to work on the new game plan," she added, gently sending the pair of girls on their way while noticing Lily once again missing, although she had little doubt the teenager was with her Slytherin friend again. "Now, what are you four up to?" seriously asked Fennec, her attention solely on the group of Allegra, Ulrica, Samantha, and Georgie, all four losing their gained confidence quickly upon suddenly being in the spotlight. 

"What makes you think we're up to anything?" asked Allegra with a burst of confidence, although it disappeared when she was met with Fennec's unamused expression. 

"A gut feeling," started Finnick in response, "Or maybe it's younger students being terrified whenever one of you appears," he added, noticing Peter had since joined the growing list of jittery students. They all acted usually until one or more of the four girls appeared. However, none had said what it was about or what had happened to cause such a reaction. 

"We haven't done anything," muttered Samantha, not wording the latter half of the comment. That you can prove; instead, she muttered more insults under her breath, at least until she felt the accusing eyes on her again. Where she'd expected to see Fennec glaring at her, she was met with the cold reality of Finnick almost looking into her soul, as if he knew what they were doing but didn't have anything to prove it. Yet. 

"I beg to differ," spoke Isolde, standing from her seat with Peter. Marlene replaced her mere seconds later, whereas Sirius and Remus retrieved their requested books from (Y/N) so they could study for the upcoming test Flitwick had informed all third years of. If only to test their knowledge and overall skill. 

Upon reaching the Hazard twins, Isolde handed over the journal she'd been keeping since the odd behavior had become noticeable. Allegra's expression dropped to resemble fear the moment she realized. The older of the Smith twins instantly wanted to disappear, even more so when she knew the odds of Isolde missing her part in everything so far. After all, Isolde was observant and kept a detailed account of everything happening around her. 

Fennec gently took the journal, reading through the pages. Every now and again, she'd throw a suspicious glance towards the girls in question. Finnick read the journal from over her shoulder, his expression neutral as if not to give anything away. However, he waved Isolde off, allowing her to return to her group of friends. 

"We haven't done anything; Peter can back us up. He's been hanging with us for a couple of weeks now," spoke Ulrica, a smug grin appearing across her lips as if she somehow believed she'd won the unseen game. Samantha and Georgie glanced over to Peter in time to see the typical fear flash across his features before he tried to hide again. On the other hand, James, Remus, and Sirius appeared confused. Peter had refused to go anywhere outside the kitchen, great hall, and classes since Allegra had joined the tormenting trio of the tower. 

"I ... I ... don't know anything," replied Peter with a shaky voice upon noticing that most of the attention had turned to him, except for Isolde, Marlene, and (Y/N), who seemed to continue on with their previous tasks. 

"I'm sorry, Peter," started Samantha, her smile small but still with a wicked glint to it. "I can't keep our relationship secret any longer," she added, a manipulative undertone to her motives. "I know I promised to keep it a secret, but I can't just stand by and do nothing when my friends and I are being accused of something we haven't done," added the half-blood, acting innocent once more as she tried her hardest to make it seem convincing. A small smile crept across her lips to see those around her being to question things all be it silently. 

"Didn't see that one coming," spoke Fennec, returning her attention to the journal in an effort to refind where she'd left off. Finding it difficult to concentrate let alone think straight. 

"Never mind that," started James, a horrified expression painted on his lips. "Really, Peter, you're dating the wicked witch of the west and didn't tell us," he continued, trying to wrap his head around the newest piece of information, although he did strongly suspect it was all just a ruse so the four wicked witches could get out of trouble again. Deep down, though, James did find something amusing about the idea of Peter dating Samantha, more because of how unlikely the pairing was. 

"What! We're not dating. She's a female Voldemort," commented Peter, the burst of confidence ending as quickly as it came, at which point he scrambled to hide amongst the shadows once more. Samantha looked over with a foreign, offended look, although she was secretly pleased by the comment, finding it a compliment to be compared to the dark lord. 

"Moony, I could use the backup here," spoke James, looking to Remus, who came equipped with a bewildered expression painted on his features. One that seemed to spark Sirius' humor as the pure-blood wizard was on the verge of laughter despite trying his best to remain composed in the face of the unusual situation. 

"Yeah, I don't think he's gonna be much help, mate," worded Sirius, moving to stand near (Y/N) now. Who was unusually quiet, as were Marlene and Isolde. 

"Grr. Permission to jinx Jessica Rosier and Raya Snyde," remarked Lily as she entered the common room, anger written across her features, the ends of her fiery hair singed and burnt, her legs wobbly and unstable as she tried to walk, just as her thick grey tights had been torn, donning holes where none had been fore. 

"Lil," called (Y/N), concern flooding her voice as she moved to step closer to one of her close friends. "What happened?" she asked, helping the fiery-haired girl walk to the table and sit down where Remus had once been perched, the smarter boy seemingly snapping out of his bubble to offer his help. 

"Ruddy idiots thought it would be a good idea to jinx me when Severus ignored them. They said they were doing it for Samantha because she had a crush on him," explained Lily, accepting the drink offered to her by Marlene, who seemed to have a calming effect or at least had mastered a spell to produce a calming aura. 

"Someone has a crush on Snape," shuddered James 

"Forget that. Peter's just found out his girlfriend is two-timing him," commented Sirius. 

Finnick's chuckle soon broke up the sudden wave of awkwardness. His attention turned to the four girls at the center of all the trouble recently. Samantha was now trying her hardest to hide from the attention, joining Allegra near the window closest to the fireplace, both seemingly finding something interesting. Ulrica and Georgie, on the other hand, looked unsure of themselves now, as if realizing they'd been caught and were thinking of ways to get themselves out of the oncoming punishment, likely detention. 

"I'm gonna go find a spell to get rid of unwanted mental images," announced Fennec, handing Isolde's journal over to Finnick, who had by now broken down into a fit of laughter. However, that was more for Lily's confused expression and (Y/N) collection of expressions as she tried to determine what was happening. Peter is dating Samantha, Samantha is dating Severus, The wicked witches are tormenting others again and likely playing games, and Lily wants to jinx someone outside of James and Sirius. 

"I'm gonna go make a memory-erasing potion," declared (Y/N), rubbing her temples in an attempt to will the headache plaguing her to disappear. Sirius chuckled again, although was unsure if she was joking or not. 

"Can someone fill me in on what I missed?" asked Lily with confusion, although a slither of laughter threatened to slip past her lips at the assortment of reactions. 

"Honestly, Tiger Lily, you're probably better off not knowing," replied Finnick, taking a seat at another table before continuing to read through the journal, his silent anger growing with every page he read. The four girls somehow believed it was a game to torment others. Mainly younger students, but they had been daring a few times to target older students they believed to be an easy target. 

"See, now I'm more curious," commented the fiery redhead, a small smile coming to her lips; her line of thought was soon broken by Peter's light laughter, Marlene and Isolde on either side of him. It was clear at least one told him a joke, thrust succeeding in distracting the terrified boy for a little while. 

"I'll tell you later," spoke Isolde with a soft smile. A smile that only grew upon remembering Allegra had since been moved from the dorm room and in with her three new friends. The dorm had been so much quieter since then, peaceful even. Where it had once been a warzone between the Smith Twins, it was now a sanctuary filled with love, friendship, and plenty of laughter. 

Series Masterlist

[berryflavouredkoolaid]

~ Eulalie and Sirius ~

listening to rock music. reading novels aloud. kissing in the record store. riding on his motorcycle. watching top of the pops religiously. burning breakfast. wearing his jacket. holding hands walking home in the dark. leaving notes everywhere. firewhiskey and martinis. buying clothes from the charity shop. black dog and white cat. stars and moon.

[addisonstars]

“ice cream and trouble”

written for day 21 of august for @wolfstarmicrofic with the prompt “ice cream”

555 words!

“Dada, dada! I want ice cream!” Estella yells, as soon as she hears the ice cream truck. “Ice cream, ice cream!” She chants as she runs to the ice cream truck.

Sirius picked her up before she could get too far and held her in his arms. “Ok, my little star, you can have some ice cream.” Sirius said, kissing her on the forehead. “But you can’t tell papa alright? You know he doesn’t like you having all these sweets.” He says, booping her on her nose.

“ ‘K dada,” Estella says, smiling, showing off her two missing front teeth.

Sirius smiles too and says, “Let’s go get that ice cream.”

Once they get to the ice cream truck, Stella picks out a popsicle, one of the bomb pops. And Sirius said that he wouldn’t get any, but he ends up getting one of those cookie ice cream sandwiches.

They walk back to their flat and eat their ice cream on the way, and Stellas ends up half on the sidewalk and half on her face. Sirius munches down on his so when they get inside he can quickly clean her up before Rem gets home.

“Come on,” he says as they step inside their flat, “let’s get you cleaned up.”

Sirius sits Estella up on the counter and grabs a paper towel and lightly wets it to wipe her mouth off. Just as he went to wipe her mouth though, he heard the front door opening.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Remus said, smiling as he set down his bags, moving to kiss Sirius hello.

“Dada said I could I have some!” Estella exclaimed pointing at her dada before Sirius could come up with an excuse. “Andddd,” she added, drawing out the ‘d’, “to not tell you.”

Remus scoffs in mock offense. “How dare you.” Stella giggles.

“Ooo papas in troubleeee.” Stella sings.

“Hey! I thought we were on the same team!” Sirius exclaims, getting ratted out by his almost 8 year old daughter.

“Papas not in trouble, stella.” Remus says calmly. “Papas just gonna get what he deserves later.” Remus lays his hand on Sirius’s shoulder.

Sirius raises his eyebrows, looking at Remus, who has a smug look on his face. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Siri!”

“What?!” He utters, then realization dawns on him. “Oh.”

“I told you to stop cursing in front of Stells,” Remus dotes, “Now you’re in actual trouble.”

“Sorry Stella, but we don’t say those words ok? Dada wasn’t supposed to say those words and now he’s in trouble,” he glares at Remus as he moves to pick Stella up off the counter, and he washes their hands. “Say you won’t say those bad words for me, Estella.”

“I won’t say bad words Daddy,” She says totally serious.

“Thank you.” Sirius said, and he turned the tap off and dried off her and his hands.

Remus moved further into the kitchen and opened up the fridge, looking at what there is for dinner.

“Alfredo sound good?” It was pretty much all they had, Remus was going to have to make a grocery run tomorrow.

“I’m not really hungry papa.” Stella says, frowning. At the mention of those words, Remus sends Sirius a glare, sending a message of “I told you,” with his eyes.

wolfstar dads are so special to me you don’t understandd 😩

a.n.: we’re gonna ignore the completely unoriginal title, i couldn’t think of anything 😭

-a.s.