#square Grimmauld | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theostrophywife · 1 year ago

Text

le coup de foudre.

pairing: regulus black x reader.

song inspiration: my love mine all mine by mitski.

author's note: this was a result of me binging dune and call me by your name. whoever fancasted timothee chalamet as regulus deserves a forehead kith cause look at him. he's so boyfriend coded it makes me sick.

Regulus Black did not believe in love at first sight.

It was a foolish notion. One that contradicted his pragmatic beliefs. At his core, Regulus was a realist. In his world, love was not a luxury one could afford. Regulus was raised with the expectation to marry according to class, wealth, and most importantly, blood status. The noble and most ancient house of Black only took the purest of the pure.

After all, toujours pur, always pure, has been his family’s motto for centuries. There has never been any doubt in his mind that he’d marry another member of the sacred twenty eight. It wasn’t a matter of if, only a question of when.

During his sixth year, his mother made her intentions very clear. Walburga Black was adamant that he begin his search for a suitable bride. Leave it to his mother to compose a list of ladies she deemed suitable to become the future Mrs. Black. Regulus was to adhere to the carefully curated roster. They were names that he’d seen a million times before. Greengrass, Prewett, Rosier. Girls he’d grown up with and inadvertently had absolutely no interest in.

Still, his mother was insistent so Regulus complied. He took the girls out on dates. The formula was rather simple: dinner at the fanciest restaurant in town followed by a walk around the city square in which he offered to buy his date a dessert like the proper gentleman his mother raised him to be. Despite the fact that Regulus had the entire process down to a science, the dates were always unsatisfactory.

He was polite, of course. Opened the door, pulled out their chair, asked the appropriate level of questions to get to know his counterpart, but by the time the appetizers arrived, Regulus was on the verge of stabbing himself with the butter knife just to rouse himself from boredom.

Regulus placed no blame on the girls. They were only doing what their families had raised them to do. Sit pretty, chew gracefully, agree with his opinions. All while wearing breakneck heels and a smile to boot. It was all terribly fucked up, but this was the world they lived in.

The more he went on these dates, the more he realized that he didn’t want some pretty, docile wife. What he truly needed was someone who was willing to challenge him, to call him out on his bullshit, to argue with him when his own stubbornness prevented him from seeing reason. Regulus came to the horrible, earth-shattering realization that he probably wouldn’t find a woman like that on his mother’s list.

As he walked back from another mind numbing date, Regulus grappled with this newfound dilemma. He didn’t want to endure another one of these disastrous dates. He didn’t want to sit through an entire meal making small talk. He definitely didn’t want to disappoint another girl by not kissing them at the end of the night.

It wasn’t like any of them liked him anyways. Though they loved the idea of Regulus Black, he was quite certain that they wouldn’t afford the same affections to Reggie—the real and true version of himself. The one that Sirius often said Regulus kept in a neatly locked cage.

He wished he could be more like his brother. Sirius had always been the brave one. It was that infamous Gryffindor boldness that prompted his older brother to rebel against his family’s expectations. Instead of heeding to their mother’s ridiculous list, Sirius chose to date Remus in open defiance to Walburga’s orders. It resulted in him getting kicked out of 12 Grimmauld Place and burned off the family portrait, but Sirius didn’t seem to mind one bit.

In a lot of ways, Regulus envied his brother. Sirius had the guts to stand up for himself. He wasn’t burdened by the crippling pressure of pleasing their mother. In all honesty, Reggie wondered if such a thing was even achievable. As he brooded, Regulus found himself on the shores of the Black Lake. His body had taken him here on autopilot. It was his only place of refuge in the castle.

Regulus paced the rickety wooden dock. His mind was working so fast, so many thoughts spinning in his head, that it felt like he might work himself up to a fit. This has always been his problem. Sirius often said that he lived in his head too much. He frowned, trying and failing to get ahold of himself. For once, he wished he could just shut his brain off entirely.

Just then, Regulus felt a drop of water hit his head. He looked up and found dark, gray clouds hovering over the horizon. The stormcloud broke open and unleashed torrential rain all around him. Fucking fantastic. The world truly couldn’t give him a bloody break, could it?

With a sigh, Regulus began making his way back. The ground was sodden underneath his feet, his boots sinking into the sand and dragging behind his black coat. The waves lapped violently across the shore as the wind lashed against the murky waters. Regulus was almost at the edge of the beach when he spotted you.

A flash of movement from the corner of his eye. Regulus stopped dead in his tracks. There, at the mouth of the Black Lake, in the middle of the pouring rain, stood a girl with the most breathtaking smile he had ever seen.

Regulus was fairly certain that you had History of Magic together. He sat behind you in class, passed by you in the halls, even reached for the same book in the forbidden section of the library once, but Reggie had never once seen that smile. The gravity of it threatened to knock the very breath from his lungs.

There was something carefree about you. The way you spread your arms, tilted your head back, and laughed in the midst of the rain and thunder. Almost like you were welcoming the storm.

It was only when your eyes locked that Regulus realized he was staring. You cocked your head at him, trailing your gaze from the curls plastered against his cheek to the nice button down and freshly pressed trousers that were now soaked from the rain, down to the shiny leather boots that were now digging into the sand. You seemed amused at the sight of him.

Ever the perfect gentleman, Regulus snapped out of his daze and jogged over to you. Without hesitation, he raised his coat over your head to shield you from the rain even though you were already both drenched.

“What are you doing out in the rain?” Regulus asked, his voice full of genuine concern. “You’ll catch a cold.”

You stepped out of the refuge of his expensive looking coat and held your hand out, catching droplets in your palm. “I don’t mind. I just…I just needed to feel the rain on my skin, that’s all.”

You supposed it must’ve seemed strange to him, but the rain always made you feel better. Lately, life had been just a little too overwhelming. There was so much pressure to do well in classes, to hang out with friends while balancing your clubs and sports, as well as making time to write back to your parents. When it all became a bit too much, you tended to come to the Black Lake for some sort of refuge. The rain was just an added bonus.

If Regulus found your behavior bizarre, he didn’t say. Instead, he just smiled softly. “Well, you got your wish. It’s soaked out here.”

“I know,” you responded with an enthusiastic nod. “It’s nice, isn’t it?”

“Standing out in the pouring rain? On a beach where lightning can strike me down at any second? Yes, it’s absolutely splendid.”

Your mouth quirked in amusement. “No one’s telling you to stay out here.” You nodded towards the castle. “You’re more than welcome to take your brooding inside where it’s warm and dry. Not to mention, free of the dangers of lightning strikes, which are extremely rare by the way.”

“With my luck, I might be the poor one in a million git who gets torched while getting insulted by a pretty girl.”

“Did I insult you?’ you quipped back. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“You accused me of brooding.”

“I didn’t accuse, I stated. Even the Wizengamot would have to rule that you were, in fact, brooding.”

Regulus raised a brow. “What happened to innocent before proven guilty?”

“Unfortunately, the evidence is overwhelming and the verdict is set. You, Regulus Black, have been sentenced for glaring at the Black Lake so menacingly that even the giant squid refuses to come to shore. Off to Azkaban you go.”

“Do you promise to write me letters? Update me of how the world’s progressed without my dazzling presence?”

“It would be my genuine pleasure.”

Regulus chuckled at your dry humor. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d bantered like this with anyone, much less with a strange not-so-stranger. You sat down on the wet sand and patted the spot beside you with a grin.

“Why don’t you take a seat and tell me all about your troubles.”

Beyond the bleak horizon, the spires of the castle peeked through the gray clouds. Regulus thought of the common room where his housemates would no doubt be gathered around the ornate fireplace for warmth. Knowing his friends, they’d probably be indulging in spiked hot chocolate and playing some childish drinking game. A few minutes ago, nothing appealed to him more, but now Regulus found himself choosing the violent rain and soggy sand. All because of you, his mystery girl.

You leaned back on your elbows and cocked your head at him. “What ails you, Mr. Black?”

“That depends. How much do you bill per hour?”

“Fortunately for you, I’m in a generous mood so I’ll throw in a free session. Consider it my pro-bono work.”

“How kind of you,” Regulus said with a serious expression. “My brother’s been nagging me to see a mind healer for years. All that childhood trauma, you know.”

A small smile tugged at your lips, revealing a set of dimples that he found rather charming. “I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not.”

“My brother is Sirius. I’m Regulus, remember?”

You snorted in a very unladylike manner, which only made Regulus grin. There was something so unapologetically you in your laugh that was absolutely endearing to him. Regulus smiled and knocked his shoulder against yours.

You mimicked the action and smiled back at him. “All sarcasm aside, I was being genuine. If you want to talk about it, I’m here to listen.”

"Do you often offer therapy sessions to complete strangers?"

"Only to surly Slytherins with sad eyes and pretty curls," you quipped back. "And we're not strangers. I sit behind you in potions. We're practically best mates."

"You think my curls are pretty?"

"Like a little cherub's. Are you quite sure you haven't escaped from the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel? You look like one of Michelangelo's angels. Except with way more scowling." Regulus grinned. He got the feeling that you always said whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted. It was refreshing. "There's a smile. See? Our session is already progressing."

"I think you might get more than you bargained for with me, I'm afraid."

You met the challenge in his words head on. "Try me."

“You were right. I’m definitely guilty of brooding.”

“What happened?”

Regulus hesitated for a moment. He had never been the type of person to be candid with his feelings, especially not with someone he barely knew. Usually, he just kept his thoughts to himself and ruminated on them in the privacy of his dorm until he drove himself mad by overthinking, but your presence brought him an unexplainable ease. For once in his life, Regulus chose not to question it.

“I’ve had a long night,” he said, tucking his knees up to his chest. “I just got back from a date.”

“It didn’t go well?”

“It was…fine. It’s always fine. But it’s the same thing over and over again, just with a different girl.”

“I wouldn’t have taken you for a playboy, Regulus Black.”

Regulus chuckled. “I’m not some unscrupulous rake, I assure you.”

“Yes, that much is obvious from your use of the word unscrupulous.” You tucked your legs underneath you. “So why go on all of these dates if you find them so tedious?”

“It’s my mother,” Regulus explained. “She has this list.”

“A list?”

“Yes, a list of girls that I’m to court. Noble, pureblooded, proper ladies of society that my mother has deemed worthy of marriage.”

“You’re seventeen years old. Shouldn’t you be worrying about quidditch games and potions exams?”

Regulus nodded. “Yes, one would think. But my family has always been different. Since my brother left, my parents have been obsessed with grooming me into becoming the perfect heir.”

“How do you feel about that?”

He sighed. “Stifled. Exhausted. Smothered. I can feel the weight of their expectations weighing me down every second of every day.”

“I’m sorry, Regulus. That’s a terrible burden to carry.”

Regulus shrugged. “Others have it worse.”

“It doesn’t mean that your problem is any less heavy.”

To Regulus, the acknowledgement felt oddly validating. Even though you knew nothing of his circumstance, there was wisdom in your words and you delivered it delicately, like you actually cared to hear his troubles. You were devoid of the judgment he'd grown accustomed to and he found that rather freeing.

“It’s just…sometimes I think that I’ll never be the perfect son. My brother, he’s always been the brave one. Classic Gryffindor,” he said with an eye roll. You chuckled, but stayed silent. It was obvious that Regulus had a myriad of thoughts to unpack tonight and you were more than happy to just listen. “Sirius has never cared what anyone thought about him, least of all our parents. I admire that about him, but I just don’t think I’m wired that way. I care too much.”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” you said softly. “Apathy is so common nowadays, finding someone who can admit that they care is refreshing. Though, I think it’s not without limits. You can’t please everyone. No matter what you do, someone is going to have something to complain about. You might as well be yourself.”

“That’s exactly the problem,” Regulus pondered. “All of these girls on my mother's list, I think they like the idea of Regulus Black, but he’s an illusion. It isn’t the real me.”

“Then who is the real you?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I’m just Reggie. I like playing quidditch and reading depressing literature and memorizing obscure history facts. I hate messy rooms and orange juice and anything that crawls.”

You smiled. “And what kind of girl does Reggie like?”

“Someone witty. Someone funny. Someone who’ll argue with me. Someone who doesn’t just nod and agree with everything I say."

"So what you're saying is that you don't want a nice girl?"

Regulus shook his head. "No, I think I need someone who challenges me. Who sees me for who I am rather than what I represent. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure the girls on my mother’s list are lovely, but I don’t think they’d actually like me if they knew who I really am.”

“I don’t know, Reggie seems like a great guy. That Regulus bloke, on the other hand…” you scrunched your nose in disapproval.

“Hey!” Regulus chided, “I’m pouring my heart out to you. That took a lot of courage, you know.”

“You’re very brave, Reggie,” you said with a grin. “But you know what would be even braver?”

Regulus squinted in the rain as you stood to your feet. Lightning crackled over the horizon, illuminating you with an ethereal silver glow. You held out your hand to him. “Come dance with me.”

“Deathly afraid of being struck by lightning, remember?”

“Sorry, what?” You asked as you shimmied around him. It wasn’t graceful by any means. It was the goofiest thing he’d ever seen and yet he’d never been so enthralled. You danced without a care in the world and it made him genuinely laugh. “I can’t hear you over all the fun I’m having.”

"This is ridiculous," he said over the roaring thunder.

You shrugged. "Perhaps. But everyone's allowed to be a little ridiculous sometimes. Besides, I was asking Reggie not Regulus."

“Are you really trying to peer pressure me into dancing with you?”

“That depends,” you replied with a cheeky smile. “Is it working?”

Regulus conceded with a sigh and leapt to his feet. The youngest Black brother bowed like a proper gentleman. “May I have this dance, my lady?"

“You may, good sir.”

You grinned up at him as he took you by the waist and waltzed with you across the sand. Surprisingly, Regulus let you take the lead. He chuckled when you stepped on his toes and laughed even harder when you tried to twirl him. Towering a good foot over you, Regulus had to fully crouch for the maneuver to work.

Finally, you gave up the formality and just spun around in dizzying circles. There was absolutely no rhyme or rhythm to it. Just two idiots dancing in the rain with the biggest smiles on their faces.

Your coordination, or lack thereof, caused you to almost faceplant into the sand. Regulus yelped as you took him down with you. By the time you recovered from the laughing fit, the two of you were red-faced, out of breath, and laying side by side along the shore. He turned over to you and brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“That was the most fun I’ve had in years.”

“See? There’s more to life than just being moody and melancholic.”

“So this mystery girl of mine keeps reminding me,” Regulus said with a smile. “You never told me your name, by the way.”

“Wow, you don’t even know my name? I’m offended, Reggie. We’ve only been in classes together since fifth year.”

“I—we’ve never been introduced—”

You broke out into a smile and giggled. You thought it was cute that Reggie was so easily flustered. “I’m just kidding, Reggie.”

He sighed in relief as you stuck out your hand. “Y/N. My name is Y/N.”

Regulus slipped his hand into yours. He cocked his head, studying your eyes and your smile and those cute little dimples.

Y/N. The last name on his mother’s list. The one he saved for last because he didn’t know who she was.

The French had a saying—le coup de foudre. The infamous phrase translated to a bolt of lightning or love at first sight. Regulus had long dismissed it as flowery prose, but thanks to his mystery girl, he started to think that maybe the Parisians were onto something because meeting you tonight felt preordained. A date with fate. Like a bolt of lightning streaking through his dark, endless skies.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N.”

You grinned. “It’s nice to meet you, Reggie.”

Regulus smiled and laced your fingers together. He was frozen, it was raining, and he was fairly certain that you were both probably going to catch a cold, but he didn’t care. In that moment, as he stared up at the sky, blinking back the rain, and intertwining his fingers with yours, Regulus had never felt more content.

So no, Regulus did not believe in love at first sight, but love at second, third, and even fourth glance? He smiled a little as he gazed back at you, letting his gaze linger as he drank in that infectious laugh and sunny grin.

You made him think that maybe, just maybe, a girl like you could convert a skeptic like him into a devout believer.

#ok but when can i run my fingers through reggie's curls hm? when is it my turn to be happy?#regulus black #regulus black x reader #regulus black x you #regulus black x y/n #regulus black fic #the marauders #the marauders era

4K notes · View notes

cherryslyce · 2 years ago

Text

Second Son (XIX) | Regulus Black

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

— Chapter Synopsis: The Battle of Hogwarts ensues.

Part XVIII / Part XX (Epilogue) / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader

Notes: Only the epilogue remains, my dear readers. Thank you. Final wc: 8.6k

Time seemed to be warping and blurring together frenziedly; day and night pushed out of conscious thought, the passage of days folding together in one reel of memories in your head. The starless sky peered at you like an endless void, indicating that it had somehow already dipped into the corners of the darkest hours again.

Your heart gives a sharp twinge as you find your eyes locked to the tall figure standing at the head of the hall, face ashened, mournful cloak adorning his imposing figure like a blanket trimmed directly from the night sky. Harry lingered ways off from you as everyone stood with tense backs and squared shoulders.

You blink away the detachment tugging at your awareness as your ears seem to become full of cotton, keenly aware of the way your wand poked at your ribs from your robe pocket. Your former Potions Professor flickers his gaze around the swarms of students around you, and your chest almost collapses in on itself when you lock eyes with the stone-faced man. Snape’s eyes widen ever so slightly, but he masks it with a sneer as he raises his eyes to look over your dismayed face.

Your mind immediately spins into overdrive as you grapple with your thoughts. That couldn’t have been your imagination. He saw you, so why didn’t he say anything?

A frown dances on your lips as you revisit your old sentiments about the man. You had always had your reservations about Harry’s inimical attitude towards Snape (though he had them for good reason), and you were beginning to think that you were correct in your assumptions that the man’s interests weren’t exactly black and white.

Harry drifts through the rows of students and makes himself known, immediately pouring out all of his pent up fury towards the man. Snape’s face does a funny thing as it shifts ever so slightly from suspicion to troubled.

The doors from behind you are tossed open, causing everyone to step back towards the walls as all heads dart to survey the intrusion. At the helm of the group, Kingsley Shacklebolt strides in with more assurance and conviction than you’ve seen in any of Dumbledore’s followers since his death.

Stepping out from the belt of students, you unconsciously begin to reach out towards Regulus. The boy’s eyes move through the crowd furiously until they lock onto your drifting figure, his shoulders immediately slacking as he extends his hand out to you.

A smile crawls up your face as you hurry out of the crowd and towards him, unbothered by the burning of eyes on your back as you do so. Once you grasp the boy’s hand, he brings your hand up to his mouth to give it a faint kiss, shooting you a small wink as he tugs you closer to him.

The Order members hold their unwavering stances, faces etched with determination as they gaze at a frowning Snape. The man’s eyes are still fixed on Harry, seemingly unperturbed by the arrival of the Order and the overt breach of security.

Harry grits his teeth as he practically snarls at the man, “Tell them how you looked him in the eye, a man who trusted you, and killed him!” Your friend’s chest heaves with every word, as if the recollection of the events was causing him physical pain.

You edge closer to Regulus as your eyes flicker between the two individuals. It was a stand-off that had been brewing for years, finally sizzling and tipping past the boiling point as your mind takes you back to your very first year at Hogwarts, painted with Snape’s glares and Harry’s innocent confusion. No longer was your friend inflicted by such adolescent hurt, now only rage and fatigue shrouding from his body.

It happens in a flash, you nearly miss it as you blink—Snape draws back and points his wand at Harry, eliciting choked gasps as the crowd of students split further apart in shock. Regulus steps in front of you instinctually, and if the situation were not escalating to such a degree, you would have found it funny that he jumped in front of you despite having no weapon or wand.

As Professor McGonagall pushes Harry aside, firmly drawing her own wand up, you push Regulus behind you as you reluctantly bring your wand up to point at the man you had made so many mental excuses for. Snape falters at the sight of the woman’s stance, but regains his composure and levels his wand to her.

Silence falls upon the hall, tension as thick as molasses as everyone draws in their breaths in anticipation. For a moment, you think nothing is going to happen, that perhaps Snape would magically curl into regret and surrender, but then a bolt of flames soars through the air.

McGonagall is unforgiving in her onslaught of attacks, and Snape merely backpedals from his spot as he deflects the spells. The man’s face falls impossibly further into hurt, and you’re struck with a whirlwind of confusion.

Why do you look like you’re the one who’s suffering, professor?

The one-sided battle recommences and you’re left rooted in your spot as Snape suddenly flees out of the window in a flurry of black swirls. As the glass shatters, a cloud of excitement seems to sprout into the air as shouts and whispers fill the perimeter.

Regulus places his hands on your shoulders as you pocket your wand, your eyes still glued to the broken glass at the end of the hall. The cheering and clapping die almost as quickly as they erupted when Harry collapses, a sudden sharp stabbing in your head accompanying your friend’s stumble. You hiss as you reach for your temple, noting how the hall was now blanketed by a miasma of fear.

Suddenly, a piercing scream slices through the air like cold steel, followed by another and another. Regulus huddles you to him as he peers at you with concerned eyes, his hands moving to trail your arms as the buds of chaos begin to prickle around the room.

A sharp hiss rings from all around you, and you would have feared for your sanity if not for the petrified expressions on many of the other students’ faces.

“Give me Harry Potter…Do this and none shall be harmed.” The words seem to bounce around the room as you guide your eyes to settle onto Harry’s stiff figure.

“Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave Hogwarts untouched.”

You divert your gaze to look at Regulus, and find that the boy is already glancing at you with conflicted eyes.

“Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded. You have one hour.”

The tint of doom seems to lift almost immediately, and you exhale shakily as the foreign pressure around the atmosphere dissipates.

“What’s that look for, Reg?” You whisper, unwilling to raise your voice as confusion stirs the air into silence.

Regulus huffs through his nose and wraps his hand around your wrist, stepping to stand beside you as he looks towards Harry, “Just wondering if it’s too late to leave and go back to Norway.”

You shake your head and go to retort, but you’re cut off by a resounding voice emitting somewhere among the swath of students, “Someone grab him!”

Your eyebrows furrowed together at the outlandish suggestion and your eyes trail about to try and distinguish who it came from. Seeing many of the gazes aimed towards a cluster of Slytherins, you tilt your head as you see an unfamiliar boy pointing towards Harry.

Ginny makes her way in front of Harry, spurring the rest of your friends to crowd around the speechless boy. As your eyes begin to wander, wanting to take note of those who were readily jumping to serve your friend on a silver platter, you make eye contact with an unimpressed Blaise.

The boy’s eyes flicker to look at Regulus before they jump back to you, an eyebrow slanting up in a manner that reminds you all too much of the Contessa. Blaise slowly slinks towards the back of the crowd just as Filch hobbles into the hall, shouting incoherently about students being out of bed.

“You have some explaining to do.” Blaise’s velvety voice sounds from behind you, causing you to jump out of your skin.

Turning around on your heels, you slam your palm against your chest to jumpstart your heart again. Did he apparate? How the hell did he just appear behind you?

Rolling your eyes, you give the boy a brief hug, “Nice to see you too, B. Sorry that I went AWOL, I wasn’t exactly in contact with anyone.”

“Except my mother.” He points out with a sniff, arms crossing.

Coughing lightly into your fist, you sheepishly smile in apology, “Nothing big, just aiding some vigilantes.”

“You are a vigilante yourself, no? And you couldn’t have sent a little slip of paper telling me ‘hey, I’m alive!’, could you now?” He mutters with narrowed eyes.

Shifting from foot to foot, you lightly frown, “Uh, sorry?”

He waves you off before setting his eyes on Regulus, who looks infinitely amused by your friend’s antics. Blaise pauses for a split second before a shit-eating grin plasters itself on his face, “Oh, how prestante! You disappeared and found yourself a pure blood boyfriend, I see.”

You blanch at his words and he snickers, “Merlin, don’t look so surprised. His facial structure just screams pure blood.”

“Okay, that’s enough of you, B.” You hiss, “You absolute menace.”

The boy doesn’t have time to respond as students begin to file out of the hall, someone bumping against your shoulder as McGonagall announces that students would be evacuated, underage students taking priority, while those of age were welcome to stay.

Your eyes widen at the announcement, the reality of your situation crash landing on you all at once. “B, go. And look out for Draco, will you?.” You point your chin forward, eyes flying around the room before you settle them on Regulus, “Reg, go with Blaise.”

Regulus swivels to look at you with wide, disbelieving eyes, “I hope you’re joking.”

“And I hope you’re joking. I’m not letting you run into danger without a wand!” You shoot back emphatically with a sharp tone.

“Dio mio,” Blaise clicks his tongue, gracefully shoving his wand towards Regulus, “Here. If you break it or lose it, my dear Y/N will no longer have a boyfriend.”

You and Regulus pause. One beat of silence passes, then another.

“Blaise, what the bloody hell? Absolutely not! Your mother is going to have my head if she finds out that I left you defenseless.” You sputter, hands flying up and nearly batting into a passing student.

The boy shifts to the side to avoid a stumbling first-year as he keeps his eyes steady on yours, “Good thing she’ll never know then. Besides, I won’t be needing it. I plan to apparate to Zabini Manor with Theo and Draco once we get out of here.” He rolls his eyes impatiently once you and Regulus remain motionless, “Now take it before I change my mind.”

“Are you absolutely sure?” You mutter quietly, eyes trailing towards the dark wand, feeling torn despite your friend’s insistence.

“Well, he’s going to follow you anyway, and I’d rather be temporarily without a wand than permanently without a friend because you jumped in front of a curse trying to protect him.” He muses dryly, eyes quickly shifting to appraise Regulus as the boy reaches for the wand.

He was going about this way too casually, a wizard’s wand was practically their life! But there was no arguing with the obstinate git, especially when he had that determined look in his eyes.

You nod and swallow harshly as your throat wells up with thick emotion, “Thank you, B. Stay safe, okay? And make sure Draco doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“No worries, our dragon is all out of stupid after what happened last year.” The italian winks at you before elegantly spinning around, his robes billowing behind him as he strides towards the exit, weaving his way towards a familiar mop of platinum blond.

Regulus twirls Blaise’s wand around in his hand as he gets used to the feeling. He looks over at you with a warm smile, eyes twinkling brightly as a fire lights in them, “Always a good judge of character, birdie. Indeed, you are proficient at picking friends.”

“Clearly not proficient enough, Crowface. I managed to grow attached to a stubborn bastard like you.” You hum playfully, taking a hold of his wrist to drag him towards your circle of friends.

Though, one meaningful glance from your savior friend was enough for you to understand: split up and haul ass.

Hermione and Ron take off in search of the basilisk corpse in the Chamber of Secrets, while Luna gives you a small smile before darting off towards Harry with a frustrated frown. Professor McGonagall almost breaks her neck doing a double take at Regulus, clearly recognizing him, but says nothing of her revelation as she ushers you with her.

Regulus trails after you both, flocked by Professor Flitwick and Molly Weasley, both giving the boy discreet side eyes.

“L/N, we are going to need to give Potter as much time as possible. I’m sure you have an idea of how you can utilize your skills.” The woman gives you a small knowing smile, and you nod back quickly despite not knowing exactly what she was insinuating.

It is not until she spins back around and braces her hands up that your brain begins to work again.

“Piertotem locomotor!”

Your eyebrows furrow at the foreign spell, but your attention is immediately redirected when a deep thudding echoes from somewhere in front of your willowy professor. Peering around her, your eyes widen as numerous concrete knights begin to march out in streams from the entrance hall.

Ah. We’re Harry’s first line of defense.

Winking at a fascinated Regulus, you couldn’t resist the urge to demonstrate your own magical prowess, wanting to match up to the boy’s level of intellect. Drawing your wand out, you scurry down the series of stairs and drop to your knees, beginning to draw out the most complex shielding runes you knew, tangling the swirls of characters into compounds of symbols that begin to shimmer against the dull ground.

The strings of characters glow brightly before darting off into the sky in a flurry of streaks, reinforcing the growing bubble being patched together by the Order members. You continue to relentlessly draw your symbols, the ache in your wrist being overshadowed by the warmth of pride that lit up in your chest at the sight of your runes chaining themselves to the colossal dome.

Ways off from you, you see Regulus marveling at the sky, eyes dancing around the strings of your runes. Your brain screeches to a halt as you zone in to look at the boy, mouth floating into a faint smile at the way his lips imperceptibly part.

It was paradoxical, how at the height of slaughter and war, you fell into a hum of peace at that very moment. Your drifting thoughts only surge forwards when a procession of wispy blue streams hail towards the near-translucent dome, raining down towards you in mottles of cerulean orbs.

Just as you begin to rise from your position, knees wobbling unsteadily along the way, the feathery streaks crash into the shield and explode into veins of white combustion. The loud crashing of explosions deafen you, and you stumble in blinded shock towards Regulus.

The boy is already making his way towards you, face grim as he strides across the plaza with purpose. You barely refrain from crashing into him as he reaches to hold onto your biceps.

Blisters of blinding white wash over your figures as you grip onto his elbows. Chancing a glance at the sky, you laugh shakily, “Think you still know how to handle a wand?”

Regulus smiles and cups your cheek, “Of course, I have to protect you somehow.”

“Your sense of humor dazzles me, love,” you search his face, opening your mouth to continue your retort, only to be disrupted by a painfully loud explosion, followed by the sound of insistent sizzling.

Above you, your beloved crown of protection withers away like disintegrating paper.

Chaos erupts almost instantaneously with giants lumbering through the concrete knights on the bridge, as arrays of colorful light fracture the structures around you. You catch a glimpse of Professor Flitwick scurrying around the crumbling soldiers, hands gesturing frantically for the students to take cover inside.

The rune weavings that you spelled float listlessly until they gravitate towards the castle, speedily wrapping around a couple of the towers and absorbing into its walls. Regulus grabs your hand and you both sprint for cover behind a pile of rubble, ducking as gusts of apparition soar above you.

Screaming begins to bloom into the air, followed by hurried shouts of curses and spells. You spring up onto your heels, wand at the ready as your eyes dart around frantically, heart virtually beating in your neck.

“Crucio!”

Your neck snaps to the side at the guttural yell, barely muffling a yelp as a red bulb of light zips towards you. Dodging the spell, you feel a symphony of rage tug at your nerves at the sight of a familiar death eater—the man who had grabbed you during the attack at the Department of Mysteries, Augustus Rookwood.

Practically swinging your wand, you hurl your spell, “Reducto!”

The man goes flying across the courtyard, smashing through a cracked archway before landing roughly like a ragdoll. You feel someone press against your back, barely taking note that Regulus and you were fighting back-to-back before another death eater sets their sights on you.

You don’t know how much time passes as you and Regulus weave through onslaughts of killing curses, blasting aside enemies and assisting other students in their duels. Your world of blurry fighting trickles into clarity once you catch sight of an enormous giant swinging down at a familiar trio, all of them sprinting further down the ruinous remains of one of the castle walkways.

“Paxillos Inferni!” Your shout echoes all around you, and your vision tunnels in on the cast of neon orange that darts from the tip of your wand. A wave of satisfaction drenches you as you see the giant drop its weapon in surprise, body jolting in agony before dozens of small razor-like spikes sprout from its body, suddenly expanding in size with a sickening crunch. The giant drops to its knees, a lifeless husk, remaining upright, supported by the flurry of colossal spikes that impaled it from every direction.

A few death eaters in your vicinity stop in their tracks, eyes widening as they take in the sight of the shredded giant and your bright eyes. Regulus swings his arm forward, sending a death eater packing before taking notice of your victory.

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” He mutters reverentially, eyes drifting from the carnage around you before settling on the palisade-giant fusion.

You shrug before taking advantage of the wave of shock around you, incapacitating a few lingering death eaters, “In one of the books at Grimmauld Place.”

“I see. Nice work, dear.” He hums, tying up a sprinting death eater before the crazed woman could attack a distracted Hufflepuff.

A sudden chill ensnares the nerves in your spine and fingertips, and you have to suppress the violent shudder tugging at your muscles. Risking a glance away from the enemies in front of you, your mouth falls ajar at the sight of a curtain of black drifting towards you.

“Dementors.” You murmured, unnerved by the sheer amount of the creatures making their way over. The golden trio tumble forward and become struck by the same sight. The dementors drop down towards the bridge, swinging and weaving around fallen bodies and chunks of concrete.

A gust of blue threads tangle into a large sphere before expanding across the bridge, the exceptionally powerful patronus charm managing to ward away a majority of the dementor army. Your eyebrows fly towards the sky as you catch sight of Aberforth, the man’s wand extended out towards the retreating veils of grey.

You had no idea the man was even capable of producing a patronus with how downtrodden he seemed just hours before. This would be the last time you’d judge a wizard by their supposed disposition.

Catching sight of a few stray dementors, you instinctually raise your wand, expertly locating a few specific memories of yours to manifest the spell, “Expecto Patronum.”

The familiar sparrow bursts from your wand and darts towards the dementor, the creature immediately retreating into the sea of darkness as the small bird perseveres in its chase.

“What?” Regulus’ breathless mutter has you directing your attention to him, eyebrows raising at the astonished look drawn on his face.

Feeling bashfulness crawl up your chest, you clear your throat and jump back into battle, only sparing him a small biting remark, “Laugh about it later.”

The boy follows your lead and sends a hex towards a cluster of death eaters, “Laugh about what?” His voice is tinged in disbelief, yet still marred by his previous amazement.

“What do you mean, about what?–” you blast an unsuspecting death eater in the side, “--Obviously about my patronus.”

“Why would I laugh?” He practically yells over the commotion of explosions raining from all around you.

You want to groan, feeling that perhaps he was trying to torture you, “Because! It’s a bird. A little birdie.” The boy glances at you with a minute frown of perplexion before his eyes slowly shift in realization, head snapping back to take down a few more enemies.

Once the mayhem around you quells in just the slightest, he turns back to you, “Merlin, what am I going to do with you?” He mutters with a faint grin. Before you have time to question him, he shifts around and lifts his wand up, “Expecto Patronum.”

The light blue swirls jet out from the borrowed wand and you raise an unimpressed eyebrow as it surges towards a confused death eater, the man watching as the spell flies towards him. You really couldn’t blame him—you too, would be rendered speechless at the arbitrary display.

Just when the spell goes to topple into the man, it morphs into a familiar shape that has you gasping. Regulus’ small patronus sharply shoots up into the sky before it can crash into the death eater, the small bird rounding in circles before dissipating into the night.

You and Regulus don’t miss a beat despite the demonstration, both taking aim at the flabbergasted death eater and sending off your best hexes. Once the man goes tumbling away, Regulus turns towards you, “A finch.”

“A finch…” you echo quietly.

Finches and Sparrows. Complementary birds.

“You-” you can barely comprehend the look on Regulus’ face as he breaks out into a wide smile. Your mouth parts, taken aback by how blatant his fondness was.

“My little birdie.” He whispers affectionately, leaning to rest his forehead against yours.

Your heart stutters on the spot, and you have to close your eyes to try and grasp onto reality. Regulus’ hands dance around your waist as colorful blobs spiral across your eyelids, the stench and discord of war suddenly shoved out of the forefront of your mind.

Opening your eyes, you take a brief moment to peer into the boy’s eyes, mouth pursing once you see the fire dancing in them.

“Blast me into a wall if you hate this.” You whisper. Regulus merely grins, immediately understanding your thoughts, and looking anything but bewildered.

Giving no time for lingering doubts to fester, you surge forward and crash your lips onto his. He reciprocates immediately, gently nudging you behind a mountain of rubble as his lips dance with yours. Your hands run around his sides, seeking something to ground yourself to as he leans in further, completely pressing himself to you.

His hands press themselves into your back, pushing you impossibly closer to him as if he were afraid you’d fall through the ground and disappear. You both continue to clash together for a dizzying amount of time, only stopping once the burning for oxygen practically imprints itself into your lungs.

Pulling back with a huff, your eyes widen in disbelief. Reality comes crashing into you like a bludger as your eyes jump around every little freckle on his face. Regulus’ chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, eyes refusing to stray from yours.

“We-” you utter, voice practically a squeak.

Regulus’ eyes flicker with mirth before he drops his head to sprinkle fleeting kisses on your jaw and neck. Your hands freeze against his chest, not knowing how to handle the hot flash of disbelief and giddiness that sinks into your frame.

Your brain was glitching, perhaps even smoking out of your ears.

Eventually, you gently push the boy off of you, eyes already flying around in search of approaching enemies. Flashing the boy a warm smile, you slowly begin to emerge from behind the mass of concrete, “Let’s continue this later, yeah?” Your voice comes out smaller than you’d hope, but you’re just happy it wasn’t shaky.

“No protests from me, birdie.” Regulus whispers lightly, hand ghosting your back as he submerges himself back into battle.

You aren’t sure how much time has passed, but you are vaguely aware of how the sky seems to shed away into a forlorn grey as opposed to its former void of pitch black. When you spin on your heel, you make eye contact with a panicked Harry which has all of your mental alarms ringing.

“Reg!” You call over your shoulder, not glancing back again as you briskly march over to your friend, cognizant of the faint sound of footsteps behind you.

As you near the boy, you reach over to grasp his forearm, “Harry?”

Harry gulps, “Where’s Draco?”

“With Blaise, they evacuated.” Your voice is cautious, watching as Harry’s eyes flicker from you to the battle behind you.

“Oh…Goyle’s dead.”

“He’s what–what the hell? Harry?”

He shakes his head, eyes darting to look at Regulus before he averts his gaze to peer off into the distance, “No time. Come on.”

You share a look of resigned confusion with Regulus before you’re both bounding off after the speeding boy, mind whirring on overdrive as you all duck into the steep shadows and clamber down a vacant stairway. Harry crouches down as you near a building, and you can only silently squawk once you realize it was the Shrieking Shack.

What the hell was the boy up to this time?

Harry leans against one of the walls and peers into a crack in the mosaic glass, eyes wide as he mutely scrutinizes the scene in front of him. You and Regulus huddle together to do the same, but not before you quietly cast a concealment charm to hide your presence.

You’re able to make out Snape’s figure, the man’s face was undoubtedly sullen as he tracks the movements of his companion with a perpetual frown. You feel Regulus tense by your side as you both recognize the other occupant in the room.

Clenching your jaw, you shoot Harry a sharp look that he ignores, the boy becoming entranced by the conversation Snape was having with bloody fucking Voldemort. Craning your head closer to the cloudy glass, you can faintly make out what the tense exchange was about.

The Elder Wand?

Regulus drops his hand down to interlace with yours, eyes shifting back and forth over the lattice of the window as he tries to fathom the topic. A few moments of eerie silence stretch out before you’re flinching back as something tersely slams against the window in front of you.

Your first instinct is to reach for your wand and prepare yourself for confrontation, but upon closer inspection of the glass, you realize that it was muddled by a dark heap. Tilting your head, you hover a finger over the middle of the black shadow, eyes widening once you see the figure move ever so slightly.

Harry’s hands are clenched tightly by his side as he peers on with unblinking eyes.

“Nagini kill.”

The cold voice has you swallowing a gasp, ears prickling with cold needles of dread at the realization of what was happening. A reverberant hissing slices through the air and soon you’re watching helplessly as the figure in front of you slams and struggles against the pane of glass.

Tears stab at your eyes painfully as you remain rooted to your spot, shoulders completely slack as shame wrings your veins unrelentingly. Separated by a mere two inches of glass. You wanted more than anything to be endowed with a wave of courage—to spring into action and save your Professor, but you knew you couldn’t.

Two inches of glass, and Snape didn’t even know such little distance separated him from help. Or maybe he did—yet, you didn’t know if that was worse. If he knew you were all there, and gave no inkling of knowledge to the vindictive Dark Lord. Was he protecting you all?

The banging ceases, eventually.

Your jaw trembles violently as splatters of blood decorate the panes in front of you, dripping bright red, the streaks mocking you. Regulus’ face is completely blank and devoid of any color, but you could see the deep-seated agony flashing in his eyes.

Were they friends? You couldn’t help but want to ask, knowing that Regulus would have been Snape’s junior whilst at Hogwarts.

You hear Snape grapple with his pain, gasping forcibly into the silent air. For a few moments, you wait it out, not wanting to storm into the building just in case Voldemort was basking in his most recent attack.

Harry shoots you a quick nod, and that’s all it takes for you to fly onto your feet, body pushing through the worn door with such force that it slams into the adjacent wall. Your eyes find your Professor immediately, heart flying away into the dusty shadows somewhere as you collapse by his side. Regulus kneels down by Snape’s feet, eyes searching the older man’s disorientated gaze.

“Professor!” Your voice comes out as a thick tremble, hands shaking with adrenaline as you fish out your wand. You begin to try and cast the strongest healing charms you know, but deep in the back of your hazy brain, you knew it would be fruitless. Harry crouches down opposite of you, posture more reserved—guarded, as he swallows harshly.

Snape glances at you briefly, eyes already dimming, before he turns to look at Harry when the boy tries to put pressure on the man’s wound. You refuse to look behind the blood-soaked collar, knowing that his neck was likely a mangled, stringy mess of flesh and muscle.

“Take them…Take them…” Snape utters with a pained groan, small glimmers of tears rolling down his cheeks. Harry, seeming to understand the man’s urgency, whips out a small glass vial from his pocket and collects the tiny droplets.

Snape reaches out with a weak hand towards your frantic friend, fingers ghosting over his face as he smiles weakly, “You have your mother’s eyes.”

Harry barely bats an eye at the man’s words, only peering at him with a mournful gaze. Regulus speaks up for the first time, eyes hard as he addresses your friend without taking his eyes off of Snape, “Harry, go.”

The boy looks over to you in question, and you give him a brief nod.

Harry hesitates before leaning back and nodding slowly, hand gradually retracting from the bloody mess of the man’s neck. Your friend bites the inside of his cheek before capping the glass vial, “Goodbye, sir.”

Without looking back, Harry flees the room and leaves you alone with the dying man. Your hands wander about in the air helplessly, as you grit your teeth, “Professor, you can’t die.”

Snape’s head lolls over to your side, and he gazes at you dully, chest rising and falling more erratically now. You shake your head and furrow your eyebrows, “Do you think you can just drop down and die like this! You still need to apologize to Harry. If you die, I’ll never forgive you. I don’t know what the hell you’ve been up to this whole time–this whole war–but Dumbledore trusted you. And Dumbledore was no bloody fool. So, live.” Your voice, once hard and full of fiery conviction, drops to a low whisper, “Live so I know that I haven’t defended you for no reason.”

The man squints at you and his fingers weakly twitch, lightly tapping your hand once. Slowly, his eyes flicker to meet Regulus’ tense figure.

“Regulus.” The man murmurs, syllables becoming slurred as his eyes droop lower.

Regulus nods and shifts to sidle by you, hands reaching over to pat the man’s arm, “It’s me, Severus. It’ll be okay now, just rest.” Regulus’ soft words of comfort bring a small smirk to Snape’s face, and as you go to say more, your Professor’s breathing stutters to a stop.

“Fuck.” You mumble out with a scrunched face, eyes burning as you press the image of Snape’s still body into your memory. Regulus’ shoulders sag, and he slowly reaches over to button up the collar of Snape’s robes with glassy eyes.

“He might have actually been a spy for the Dark Lord this whole time, birdie.” Regulus whispers, hands drawing back slowly once he finishes his task.

You sniffle and turn away from your dead professor, “I don’t know. I don’t want to believe that. I don’t even have a sound reason for my judgment—I can just sense it.”

Regulus nods and reaches to cradle your face in his hands, “Your senses have yet to steer you wrong, little bird. I trust your judgment, always.”

It was inscrutable. How could you truly mourn, pity, or empathize with a man who most thought to be Hogwarts’ most depraved? It was dichotomic how you wished to understand Snape’s motivations, but simultaneously wanted to spell away any memory you had of the man.

A part of you hoped that he was everything you thought him to be—slightly misunderstood, heavily misguided, and desperately in need of atonement. Another part of you also prayed that it was the antithesis of your feelings—that he was truly an unredeemable, malevolent mastermind that fooled Dumbledore. At least that way, when the public inevitably denounced the man, he would deserve it.

You refuse to shed tears over Snape’s death, but you wallow in the sea of hurt and conflict that threatens to drown you as you and Regulus make your way back to the castle. It takes a few moments before you snap back into reality, immediately tensing up as you scout the area for any signs of life.

Regulus was faring better than you at the moment, eyes set forward, one hand grasping Blaise’s wand, the other, tightly clutching yours.

“It will end soon.” He mutters, voice level and firm with certainty.

You don’t respond, but you feel a pebble of determination fling itself into the empty cavity of your chest. As you both slip into a dark corridor of the castle, wands raised, you hear distant explosions and yelling around the corner.

It was time to gear up for battle again. Throwing yourself into a slight duck, you swing out from the darkness with a hex at the tip of your tongue, a vicious spell rippling through the air and crashing devastatingly into a death eater moments after.

Mayhem befalls the ruined hallway in a matter of seconds, and you catch a glimpse of two ginger mops. Slowly knocking down death eaters, you work further towards the two Weasleys. When you get within a few yards of the familiar individuals, you feel a small smile paint itself on your lips as you realize it happened to be Fred and Percy, fighting side-by-side.

Seems as though Percy made up with the rest of them.

Just as you send two death eaters down the stairs and into the path of a few stray hexes, you see Fred get knocked to the floor in your peripheral. The death eater standing over your friend waves his hand up menacingly, no doubt ready to obliterate him.

Jumping into action, you aim your wand at the man’s back, “Mors Ruinam!”

A large void swallows the unsuspecting man before unceremoniously spitting him out from the ceiling just as Regulus shoots off a particularly nasty hex.

You hoped that the Ministry wouldn’t be checking your wands after the battle.

Fred is still splayed out against the wall when you approach him, face drained of color as he comes to terms with his near-death experience. You extend a hand to help him up, grunting when the boy nearly drags you down in his attempt to rise up.

“What the hell was that?” He exclaims, eyes suddenly wide and bright.

Leave it to the Weasley twins to bounce back at light speed.

“Just a fun little dark spell.” You flash him a small relieved smile.

He grins and claps your shoulder, “Wicked!”

Percy makes his way over to the three of you with a nod, dark circles jumping out from his face as he slowly gestures for you all to make your way further up the castle.

“Have either of you seen Sirius?” You ask, eyes trailing to focus on the wisps of fire that peeked through the cracks of the ceiling.

“Reckon he’s with Remus and Tonks.” Fred supplies, glancing back to give Regulus a confused look. You nod and cough into your fist, eyes avoiding Fred’s as you deign him with an answer of your own, “Uh, this is my…boyfriend…Regulus.”

Fred’s face splits into a grin and he nearly faceplants on the stairs as he shoots Regulus a knowing look, “Double wicked.” You roll your eyes, knowing that the next family and friends meeting would be awkward as you’d have to explain how and why you were dating Sirius’ dead brother.

Regulus raises his eyebrows in amusement before tangling your fingers together. The journey up to one of the collapsing towers was uneventful from then on, but you were deeply relieved to see that Sirius was still up and running.

“Pup!” He grins broadly, turning back around for a split second to blast an apparating death eater out of the window. The man makes his way over to you, giving you a brief hug before ruffling his brother’s hair, “Where’s Harry?”

Just running amuck with your dead professor’s tears, no biggie.

“Off and about. He was fine, last we saw him.” You answer with a hum, eyes catching Remus’ tired ones from across the tower ledge.

“Where is Tonks at?” You wonder aloud.

Sirius hums and twirls to look at his fatigued friend, “Shacklebolt. They’re off somewhere inside the castle.”

Percy steps forward and huffs quietly, “We should make our way down. There’s no telling how much longer this place will stand.”

Before anyone could make a move to clamber down the stairs, a familiar steely voice hissed through your mind, “You have fought valiantly…but in vain. I do not wish this. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a terrible waste. I therefore command my forces to retreat. In their absence, dispose of your dead with dignity. Harry Potter, I now directly speak to you. On this night, you have allowed your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. There is no greater dishonor. Join me in the forbidden forest and confront your fate…”

A few beats of silence pass and you could hear a few faint pops of apparition echo throughout the perimeter.

“That isn't going to bode well with Harry.” You murmur, and Sirius grimly nods at your words, quickly retreating down the stairs.

The walk down to the bustling dining hall is pervaded by a sense of dread and anxiety, all of you still on guard as if expecting a death eater to leap around the corner at any moment. Just as you reach the heavy doors, Harry comes striding towards your little group from the other side of the corridor.

Your head perks up at the sight of your friend, but confusion washes over you when you see the hard look in his eyes. His eyebrows are harshly furrowed as he stares down Sirius and Remus, both men looking at each other in confusion before starting to walk over to your friend.

“Hey uh, Fred, Percy, I think your family is inside.” You cough out, not looking back as you debate on whether or not you should approach your furious friend. Luckily, both Weasley brothers feel the tension in the air and heed your silent request, Fred throwing an arm over his disgruntled brother’s shoulders as they saunter away.

“What do you think happened, love?” You mutter, peering over to study Regulus’ expression.

He turns to you and hums, “Snape gave Harry his memories earlier, I’m guessing he saw something he didn’t like.”

You raise an eyebrow at the boy and bump your hip against his, “You know something.”

“I know a lot of things, birdie.” He muses, pressing a hand to your lower back as you both watch on.

Harry runs a hand around his lips before he peers up at his godfather and pseudo-uncle, muttering something that has both men flinching back as if he tossed a flame at them. You cross your arms as Harry sighs, seeming to retreat in his tirade, stepping around both men and marching in your direction.

You shift to give him a questioning look, but he shakes his head and grabs both you and Regulus by the arm, pushing in between you both as he continues on his war path, “Later.”

You don’t think you will ever receive an answer from your friend. Your heart feels like it is being ripped from your body as you stand atop of the ruined stairs along with the remaining survivors, watching as a completely still Harry is being paraded over to you by a river of death eaters.

Neville grips the worn sorting hat tightly in his hands, mouth wobbling as he takes in the sight of the approaching forces. Your mouth stretches into a painful line as your eyes zone in on a particularly enthusiastic death eater dancing around beside Voldemort’s strutting figure.

“Neville.”

The boy turns to you as you begin to make your way down to him.

“I hope you won’t mind if I send her to Merlin,” you whisper as you perch beside him atop a hill of rubble.

Neville narrows his eyes at the woman before nodding, “Get to her first. I won’t be able to hold myself back otherwise.”

“Deal. I’ll help you with the Lestrange brothers then.”

Your brief exchange comes to a halt as Voldemort and his forces stop just a few yards shy of you both.

Voldemort shoots a feral grin at the crowd before spreading his arms out widely in triumph, “Harry Potter is dead!”

Ginny shoots out from somewhere behind you with a distressed wail, “NO! No!”

Her father barely manages to tug her back as Voldemort hisses, pointing a spindly finger at her, “Silence! Stupid girl.”

You want to snarl at the man, hand slowly wrapping around your wand. Regulus moves out from somewhere in the crowd behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder as he stares down the laughing death eaters.

Voldemort’s gloating continues for a few more moments before his eyes flit towards you and Regulus. It seems that world tips on its axis in that moment as the serpentine man stills on the spot before his face shifts to one of rage, the man’s change in demeanor spurring Bellatrix to follow his gaze.

“Traitor!” She all but screeches, immediately lifting her wand to aim at Regulus. You react just as quickly, whipping your wand up to blast the woman into the next life, but you’re both distracted by the sound of a few gasps. Reeling over to look at the source of shock, your mouth curls up as you see Harry roll on the ground, standing and firing a spell towards Voldemort’s snake.

Bellatrix whips her head to look at Voldemort before becoming further enraged as death eaters begin to flee by the dozen, clearly petrified by your friend’s ability to dodge death.

“Reggie, cover me!” You yell, taking advantage of Bellatrix’s distracted state. The boy complies immediately, watching your surroundings as he begins to fire spells into the disarrayed crowd of death eaters.

“Flipendo!”

Your spell sweeps the demented woman off of her feet, her hair flying wildly as she bounces off of a broken slab of concrete. Explosions ring from all around you as Voldemort begins to take chase behind a fleeing Harry.

Bellatrix recovers quickly, clambering around on the ground as she tries to find her wand. You almost want to drag out this one-sided duel to a torturous degree, but petty games had no place amidst war.

Pointing your wand at a stone, you swing your arm through the air, “Depulso!” The rugged rock soars through the air before crashing into Bellatrix’s hunched figure, reducing her frantic movements into trembling pulses as she crumbles back down onto the ground.

You pace towards her slack body, heart skipping as your mind races. Fuck, you didn’t kill her did you?

The woman’s eyes bulge in their sockets as she helplessly stares at your looming figure.

“Filthy…traitor.” She mutters with a strained voice, mouth twisting into a repulsive sneer.

You huff and shoot a glance towards Regulus, relaxing when you see him occupied with a duel, “Still have the energy to talk, do you?”

The woman doesn’t answer, and only continues to gaze at you venomously. Her wand had clattered to the ground just a few feet away, and you faintly smile before kicking the curved stick into a nearby fire.

“You brought this upon yourself. And really, it’s a shame for you that I’m not Neville,” you grin broadly at the woman, “he is far more merciful.”

Before the woman can respond, you pace back a few steps before aiming at her, “Anima Redimat.”

The woman gasps shrilly, watching with frightful eyes as the purple spell sinks into her body, “You-”

“You recognize it then? The Soul Ripping spell. I’ve heard you’re quite a fan of soul magic.” You hum as she gapes at you, “You’re not the only one who’s been around Grimmauld Place’s library.”

The woman is unable to reply as the effect of the curse kicks off, a faint purple tinge enveloping her body. Bellatrix begins to twitch on the ground, limbs sliding around in a distressful dance before she completely stills, eyes wide and unseeing as her form freezes in a contorted manner.

You spin on your heel and slide into the mayhem around the courtyard, firing off an endless flurry of hexes as a tidal wave of adrenaline pushes the world into clarity. Regulus joins you by your side soon after, eyes never once moving to greet his cousin’s lifeless form.

As you turn to send off another spell, you still on the spot as you come face-to-face with Narcissa Malfoy.

“Lady Malfoy.” You greet evenly, moving to blast away a death eater behind her.

The woman hardly flinches at your ministrations and continues to stare at you before she finally whispers, “Draco?”

“With Contessa Zabini and his friends, I sent Blaise off to take care of him earlier.” You reply, sending a binding spell flying from your wand as you see Rabastan Lestrange sprint across the rubble around you.

The woman nods and peers at you with relieved eyes, “I see. Perhaps we should have tea one of these days.” Without waiting for a response, she strides away and grabs her husband, apparating out of the battlefield in the blink of an eye.

Why did everyone insist on having tea with you? Your stress levels will be off the charts by the end of the day.

“Making your way up high society, birdie?” Regulus chuckles from beside you, a glint of satisfaction flashing across his eyes as he overpowers his opponent.

“A penchant of mine.” You reply, tone glazed with amusement.

Regulus shakes his head as he flings his fallen challenger away from him, “Trust me, the grandeur of it fades quickly.”

The battle ensues for a few more beats before crescendoing as two figures suddenly drop down and roll into the middle of the square, driving everyone’s attention towards the disruption.

It seems that time halts in place as Voldemort and Harry gather their bearings, wands raised up as beams of green clash into red, an overwhelming aura of power mounting up into the air. You faintly feel the magic, Voldemort’s smothering signature grappling with Harry’s light and airy one.

The junction of power twirls into a vibrating ball of light as you see both men shake to push forward. Voldemort suddenly collapses onto his knees as the magic fades, a tense silence dispelling the air from your lungs as you step forward with bated breath. Harry quickly peers back in shock, and his contrast from Voldemort’s stricken demeanor tells you all you need to know: the tide of the battle has changed.

Both men swing their wands forward again, but the power clash is less evident this time as the Dark Lord futilely struggles against Harry’s potent magic. The push-and-pull between the two disintegrates once Voldemort becomes enveloped by his own spell, the green wrapping around his figure like a deflating bubble.

The man crumbles to his knees, body gradually going rigid on the spot as his skin begins to flake off into a wisps of ash. The swirl of flying particles reduces the man to nothingness, and you feel like you can breathe again.

Voldemort was no more.

Harry steadies himself to his feet before smiling shakily, turning on the spot to greet the confounded faces around him. Sirius and Remus come flying from somewhere in the crowd, examining Harry’s condition as the boy stares off in content.

This war was over.

So many years of suffering and struggle finally blooming into a new era, and your friend was at the center of it all.

Regulus inhales shakily before turning to face you, seizing your stiff body into his arms when you glance back at him with disbelieving eyes.

For the second time that day, he joins your lips together, and you can only claw at his enthusiastic figure helplessly as he crowds you against him. Cheering echoes from all around you as more people begin to pool into the courtyard, cries of victory lifting to the skies and blowing away the gloomy clouds.

You cup Regulus’ face as you both slowly disconnect, lips swollen and eyes wide.

“I love you, birdie.” He whispers with conviction, hands dropping to grip your waist.

Your laugh bubbles into the air with a watery edge, and you try to ignore the tender fulfillment that permeates across your chest, “I love you too, Reg.”

Today you would shed relieved tears and hold the untimely losses close to your heart, but with the battle won, tomorrow would be the beginning of a new chapter for Magical Britain. You would have to begin reconstruction, reelections, and rehabilitations—mere band-aids for the decades of emptiness that would scar every survivor of the Wizarding Wars, but it would suffice.

The incalculable change was a never-ending battle—even with Voldemort gone, but at least now you have Regulus by your side. Perhaps if change became too much, you could pay Reine a visit.

A vacation or permanent getaway could be in order now, but that seemed like a worry for tomorrow.

tag list: @krazyk99 @venomsvl @valsarchives @bunny24sstuff @novella12nite @elia-the-bibliophile @txorua @xlifexdeathx @trikigirl271 @the-marauders-world @sleepydang @blueberry-thrawn @lestat-whore @chanaaaannel @clockworkherondale @peachyaeger @thegayhoenextdoor @l--absinthe @ok-boke @summer-noir @mikeikax @musically-ambiguous @dittos-blog-dylanobrien @friendly-neighborhood-boricua @randomfaeriechild @misacc08 @that-bitch-bri @littleshadow17 @chocochannie @bl4stonesc @shari-berri @mrs-billyrussooo @pandemicboredom @gojosbucket @brain-has-left @googie-jeon @lovely-maryj @lokifriggason1 @aloramalfoy @godmitski @justanotherkpopstanlol @hpboysslut2707 @coffeehurricanes

951 notes · View notes

wolfstargazer · 7 months ago

Text

19th May - 24 hours to live - @wolfstarmicrofic - word count: 289

Remus wonders how things might have been different if they had known...

Sometimes, he looks back on those hours just before, trying to ascribe some significance, desperately looking for meaning that hadn't been there...

If there had been signs then maybe he might have stopped it... might have found a way to prevent what was to happen next...

But there was nothing. Just the domestic. The mundane. It had been quiet in Grimmauld Place without Kreacher. They'd sat at the kitchen table and ate a simple supper. He had taken his drink to finish it in the upstairs living room, opening the book he was in the process of reading and balancing it on his knee. The evening had passed in companionable silence until Sirius had caught him yawning once again and said, "Let's go to bed."

If they had known would they have made love, Remus wonders, hot and sticky and passionate, clinging violently to one another, knowing it was the last time?

It hadn't mattered. The future was opaque. Death was a stranger refusing to make itself known. Waiting to be revealed in that final terrible moment when the flash of the curse had hit Sirius squarely in the chest and he'd slipped, the half-smile of surprise still playing on his lips, through the veil and to where Remus could not follow.

And so they laid together, like so many nights before, beside one another, sleepy but content. Remus had felt Sirius thread his fingers between his, a ghost of a kiss on the back of his hand, unremarkable yet astounding in the way only love every day can be. He had smiled, and Sirius, perhaps sensing the smile in the darkness, had whispered just one word.

"Goodnight."

#remus lupin #wolfstar #mauraders #the marauders #remus x sirius #marauders era #sirius black #dead gay wizards #wolfstar microfic #microfiction #older wolfstar #wolfstargazer microfic #wolfstargazer microfiction #clare mansfield microfiction #24 hours to live

59 notes · View notes

lulublack90 · 11 months ago

Text

Prompt 30 - Uneven

@jegulus-microfic January 30 Word count 995

Previous part First part

“James?...James?” Regulus’s voice was small.

“Do you really mean that?” James was trying very hard to stomp down the feelings that were slowly beginning to bloom through him.

“Yes. James, I want to come home.”

“Then come home, Reg.” He knew the words had more meaning behind them, but he couldn’t examine that right now.

“Okay,” Regulus said, the hope clear in his voice. “I’ll call you when I have a date.”

“Okay, Reg.”

They’d stayed on the line, not saying anything until James had said goodnight, and they both hung up. James stroked Leo.

“What am I going to do, boy?”

———————————————————————————

“Is it because of me?” Barty asked seriously when Regulus went to him on Monday morning to ask about breaking his contract. Regulus shook his head.

“Not in the way you think. You made me realise that what I really want is back home.” He waited for Barty to ask about it, but he didn’t.

“I really don’t want to lose you as an employee.” Barty had recovered quickly, moving on to the next task. “Let’s spitball some ideas and see if we can figure this out.” Regulus hadn’t even thought of that as an option.

They spent most of the morning agreeing on a compromise.

He and Barty had discussed him working remotely back in England and flying to New York every three months for a few weeks. It was a good plan. But at the end of the day, it was his father, Bartemius Crouch Sr, who had the final say.

He was called into Crouch’s office that same afternoon. He was nervous. This man was the one in control of his future. He knocked on the door and waited to be called in.

———————————————————————————

Sirius had told him the date that Regulus was returning two weeks ago, and Regulus had messaged him the night before to say he’d landed and asked if he’d come over for dinner this evening. He’d agreed instantly, only remembering about Lily when she got out of the shower and joined him in bed.

He fretted over what he was going to say all night. He tossed and turned, eventually leaving the bed, worried he would wake her.

The sun rose, and he hadn’t slept a wink. He heard movement upstairs as Lily woke. He put down the whisky he’d been nursing when he heard her coming down the stairs. She walked into the kitchen and went straight to the kettle for a cup of tea.

“Erm—Lily—We need to talk.” He needed to get this over with. He’d been putting it off. Not quite believing that Regulus would come back. But now it was real. He was back in Grimmauld Place, and James had run out of time. He didn’t know what would happen between him and Regulus tonight, and he didn’t want to lie to Lily. She deserved better.

He cleared his throat and continued. “Regulus is back.” She barely reacted. She just nodded slowly as she stirred the teabag around her mug.

“For good?” She asked. Something flashed in her eyes, but it was gone so quickly James couldn’t tell what it was.

“Yes.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

Lily nodded again.

“Are you getting back together?” Her lips were pursed, and her shoulders had squared. James felt very small and found he couldn’t meet her eyes.

“He wants me to go over tonight for dinner. So we can talk.” He still couldn’t look her in the eyes. She folded her arms across her chest, holding herself tightly.

“I don’t want to upset you, Lily. But Reg he—” Lily cut him off.

“James, I need to tell you something.”

———————————————————————————

Regulus looked at the table he’d just set. Something was off. He walked around it, scrutinising his place settings. His eyes narrowed in on the culprit. The knife and spoon on James's side were uneven.

“Well, we can’t have that, can we? It has to be perfect.” He told the offending cutlery as he carefully rearranged them. He smiled down at the now beautiful table.

‘Knock, knock.’ His eyes flashed in horror as he looked at the clock and realised he’d lost track of the time and James was here.

He hurriedly removed the apron and smoothed down his shirt. The door sounded again as he jogged up the steps out of the kitchen and towards the front door. He paused for a moment to check his reflection in the hallway mirror. His cheeks were slightly flushed, and his eyes were too wide, but he doubted James would care.

He took a steadying breath and opened the door.

James stood there illuminated by the porch light and looked just as mouthwatering as he always had. Regulus had to concentrate to not jump into his arms and start kissing him.

“Hi,” He breathed.

“Hi,” James replied just as breathy.

They stood and stared at each other until Regulus realised they were still in the doorway and he hadn’t invited James in.

“Come in. Dinner’s nearly ready. I made chicken Kievs. Hope that’s alright?” He babbled as he led James down into the kitchen.

It was warm and cosy in there. Regulus busied himself with opening a bottle of wine while James shuffled from foot to food behind him.

“Reg. Somethings happened.” He froze, hand hovering over the wine bottle. He looked up at the devastated expression on James’s face.

“What is it, James?” His voice came out quiet and cracked. He could have sworn the temperature of the room had dropped.

James swallowed repeatedly, wringing his hands together. All manner of scenarios played in Regulus’s mind. “James, I need you to talk. My imagination is going wild here.” His heart was thundering in his chest. He could feel it in his ears.

James finally looked him in the eye and took one last shuddering breath before he answered.

“Lily’s pregnant.” Regulus felt the blood drain from his face. “I’m the father.”

Next part

#January 30 #james potter #regulus black #james fleamont potter #regulus arcturus black #regulus and james #james x regulus #regulus x james #jegulus #jegulus microfic #lily evans #sirius black #uneven

94 notes · View notes

impishtubist · 11 months ago

Text

happy belated birthday @soloorganaas it's a month late but Finish Your Fucking Fics February has me by the throat. 😘

---

It had been a long day.

Scratch that, it had been a long week. A long fucking week of watching his much-younger cousin make doe-eyes at Remus, and find excuses to touch his shoulder or arm or hand, and laugh far too loudly at his dry humor. A long week of enduring the kids and their scheming, because Ginny had got it into her head that the best way to entertain herself in this horrid house was to play matchmaker, and somehow she had pulled everyone else into it, too.

It had been a long fucking week, and Sirius didn’t feel the least bit guilty about shutting himself in his room--their room, whenever Remus was at Grimmauld for longer than a night--and laying down for a midday nap to try to stop his mounting headache in its tracks.

Well. He felt a little guilty. Because every moment shut up in this room was a moment away from Harry, and he had already missed fourteen years of Harry’s life.

But he was just so damned tired. He had lost a brother, countless friends, a lover, twelve years of his life…and now he had to watch said lover be flirted with right in front of him.

There was a knock on the door, and Sirius grunted.

“Sirius?” Harry stuck his head into the room. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, Hazza.” The nickname, not used since Harry was a baby, had slipped out accidentally his first night in Grimmauld. Sirius had tried to backtrack, embarrassed, but after the way Harry had lit up, he couldn’t not use it.

“You sure?” Harry came further into the room. “I could get Professor Lupin.”

“No need to bother him.” When Sirius had last left them, Remus had been teaching Tonks how to waltz in the library. He lifted his arm off his eyes and patted the mattress beside him. “Come sit.”

Harry obediently sat next to him, and Sirius put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry I haven’t been…”

He trailed off. He had too much to apologize for. He didn’t even know where to begin.

“It’s fine,” Harry said. “You’ve been distracted.”

“Nothing could distract me from you.”

Harry gave him an unimpressed look. “Not even Professor Lupin?”

“What about Professor Lupin?”

“Do you like him?”

“‘Course I like him, Harry, he’s my best--”

“Not like that,” Harry said, cutting him off. “You know what I mean.”

Sirius sighed. “We dated when we were kids.”

“Yeah?” Harry asked. “What about now?”

“Well, I can’t exactly take him out for a candlelit dinner.”

“He sleeps in here, though, doesn’t he?”

Not as unobservant as Sirius thought, then. “He does.”

“So does he, like, know how you feel?’

“Tell me, Mr. Potter. How do I, like, feel?”

Harry grinned. “You love him.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Does he know that?”

“He bloody well should,” Sirius muttered.

“Maybe you need to remind him, then.”

***

When Remus came up to bed that night, Sirius grabbed the box he had been keeping in his bedside table since the beginning of the summer.

“Think fast, Lupin.”

Remus didn’t think fast, and the small box hit him square in the chest. He caught it before it fell to the floor, and popped open the lid. His lips parted in surprise.

“Is this--?”

“Found it in Orion’s things,” Sirius said. “Took me a week to get all the curses and enchantments off of it, but it’s been in the family for generations. Seems a waste to let it languish in a drawer.”

“This,” Remus said slowly, “is the worst proposal I have ever received.”

“How many people have asked you to marry them, Moony?”

“Including this time? Technically, none.” Remus tossed the box back at him. “Because you haven’t asked, Black.”

“Oh, alright, then.” Sirius heaved himself off the bed and dropped to one knee. “Remus, light of my life, will you marry me as soon as there isn’t a price on my head?”

Remus’s lips twitched. “Oh, I suppose.”

“Some acceptance that is.”

“Some proposal that was!” Remus held out his hand anyway, and Sirius slid the gold ring on his finger.

“And now, maybe if you’re wearing that, my cousin will keep her hands off you.”

Both of Remus’s eyebrows shot up, and then a grin spread across his face.

“Sirius Black, are you jealous?”

“No!”

“You are,” Remus said, delighted. “Hold on, I need to savor this.”

“Savor it?”

“I spent years at school watching the entire student body throw themselves at you and being so jealous I could hardly think straight. You’re jealous because you think I might be interested in Tonks, and because she’s been flirting with me? Yeah, I’m going to enjoy this for a while.”

“Some fiance you are,” Sirius grumbled.

Remus kissed him, his hands going to Sirius’s belt. “I’ll make it up to you.”

#wolfstar #imp is writing #finish your fucking fics february #honestly this was just an excuse to write more anti-r/t propaganda so thank you for that

129 notes · View notes

saintsenara · 9 months ago

Note

Oh, and kind of a follow up but, thoughts on Harry/Ginny/Voldemort or even just Ginnymort?

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

now, i'll admit to being quite fond of a bit of tominny [or, to give it its proper name, gin and tonic] but i think the more interesting thing to do here is to take you specifically asking about hinnymort and ginnymort seriously and assume that we're talking about the adult lord voldemort. no nose and all.

because i regret to say that how ginny would interact with this version of voldemort is something i spend a disturbingly large amount of time thinking about. and this is largely because i think it's really fascinating that she's the only person in canon [other than hagrid and myrtle, neither of whom the narrative particularly cares about] whose torture comes at the hands of tom riddle in young and pretty form and whose hatred of voldemort is - therefore - not hatred of the horrifying voldemort who brought the country to its knees in the 1970s and is determined to do it again, but of someone she considered her best friend in the world.

i'm always really struck by harry's insistence when breaking up with ginny at the end of half-blood prince that he's afraid she's at risk from voldemort if they stay together, because this is one of the only examples prior to deathly hallows of him demonstrably thinking of tom riddle and lord voldemort as a single continuation of the same person. in both chamber of secrets and half-blood prince, harry - however begrudgingly - is interested in and sympathises with [and, let's be real, fancies...] the teenage voldemort. his sympathy vanishes when voldemort comes for his job interview with dumbledore - that is, when he begins to look like his adult self, who harry is only afraid of and enraged by.

i think something really interesting can be done with that in terms of thinking about how harry's fear of the voldemort ginny's at risk from doesn't square with her own experience. harry's trying to keep her safe from the eldritch monster; ginny finds him considerably less scary than the beautiful boy who was her best friend.

and there is also the fact that there seems to be no evidence that the non-diary voldemort actually knows who ginny is. one of the things which really stands out in the first chapters of deathly hallows is just how wrong harry is about needing to go it alone for his friends' own protection: nagini has evidently not been briefed to expect hermione in godric's hollow; ron isn't identified by the snatchers who capture him after he leaves the horcrux hunt; and the vast majority of the order, including the adult weasleys, are free to continue working until at least april 1998.

and so i think it's quite interesting to think about how ginny is probably going to be less bothered by finding herself entangled with the adult voldemort - after all, he's so obviously evil that there's none of the wheedling his way into her trust which got her into such trouble with tom. she can just go with the flow...

and - of course - this experience would be very different from how harry's going to react to finding himself as the third in this triad. i actually think ginny would find it easier to talk to a voldemort she never felt any inclination to trust. harry very much would not. his interest lies with the young voldemort, who he can convince himself might be salvageable. i don't think he's rushing home from the ministry for cuddles on the sofa...

what does voldemort get out of the arrangement? apart from the opportunity to live rent-free in grimmauld place and leech off harry's riches, that is...

well, his whole.... vibe with harry is obvious, and he does have a canonical fondness for bolshy women with great hair...

but i think it's also arguable that ginny also possesses lots of qualities he canonically values - above all, the fact that she clearly has a bit of a vindictive streak. i am absolutely certain that diary!tom plays on this in order to make her all the more vulnerable to manipulation surrounding the basilisk's attacks [i.e. reminding her that she was complaining about how annoying she finds justin finch-fletchley the day before he's petrified, convincing her that she's the person responsible] and i am also certain that the secrets he uses to strengthen himself are her most violent and unpleasant ones.

bellatrix's capacity for casual cruelty is clearly one of the things voldemort particularly likes about her - and, indeed, there are more similarities between hinny and bellamort in canon that i imagine was jkr's intention [she never gave up on voldemort either!]. i actually think you can write yourself fairly plausibly into a scenario in which voldemort becomes quite fond of ginny, and ginny becomes reasonably happy to listen to him complain about harry's taste in interior design and how everyone who works for the ministry is insufferable.

harry's getting through it by screaming into a pillow at regular intervals. and - y'know - because of the whole soulmates thing.

#asks answered #asenora's opinions on ships #ginnymort #hinnymort #harry potter #tom riddle #lord voldemort #ginny weasley

61 notes · View notes

peanut-in-the-goal · 8 months ago

Text

seven minutes

Seven minutes.

The human brain works for seven minutes after death. You see your life flash before your eyes seven minutes before you die. Seven minutes.

“Nice one, James!” Sirius stands side by side with his godson, fighting death eaters with him, just like he did with his father. He grins easily as he slides into his old dueling stance, wand out in front as he flicks and weavers himself through the enemies.

It’s like an old dance to him, something never forgotten just like riding a bike. He doesn’t see his cousin in the shadows, too busy sending spell after spell at Lucius, making sure he takes all the hits.

At this moment, Harry is his brother, and just like Regulus, he will take every taunt, hit, or hex to protect him. He grins when Harry lands a good spell, and finally knocks Lucius off the platform.

“Avada Kedavra!”

Sirius sees Bellatrix too late, his head snapping back. He stumbles, going toward the veil. He sees James’ face staring at him, looking like he did when they were 15. He leans into the veil, smiling.

I get to go home.

Harry screams.

It’s said that in the first minute, you see yourself being born.

Sirius blinks and he sees bright white. Like his eyes have been covered his whole life and he can finally see, blinded by nothing but white white white. The walls are white, and the doctor holding him has blue gloves on, a blue mask too. He has thin square lensed glasses on, and he’s smiling so hard that you can barely see his eyes.

Behind the doctor, there is a man behind him. Tall, dark grey eyes, and short black hair neatly styled.

Distantly, he hears crying, wailing. He wonders who it is. His eyes are blurry, and he can’t get a true breath in.

Oh.

The crying is him.

He reaches for the man with the dark hair. The man’s face goes hard, cold even. He’s no longer looking over the doctor’s shoulder, no longer interested in the baby that is being held. He stands straight up and turns to look at someone else who Sirius hadn’t noticed yet.

“Boy.” The man says. He doesn’t sound proud, but he is not displeased either. He seems satisfied enough and nods at the woman on the bed before turning and leaving the room.

Sirius cries harder, searching for something, anything in the room to cling to. His small hands reach for the doctors, but he can’t reach the fingers holding him, probably wouldn’t be able to grab onto them anyways.

He’s handed to someone else, the women on the bed that the man was talking to earlier. She looks just like the man. Long black hair, grey eyes, pale skin and sharp cheeks bones prominent in her face.

She doesn’t look as cold as he did though. Her face is flushed red and there’s sweated covering her skin. She coos softly and holds him close to her, cradling him to her chest.

“Oh, im so happy you’re a boy,” she whispers into his skin. His crying dies down a bit, having someone to cling to. “Sirius,” she whispers, “Sirius.”

The second minute you see your happiest memories, the small and pleasant things. The first time anything made you truly happy and you did something good.

Sirius are Reguluis are running around the halls of 12 Grimmauld place. Their parents are away on ministry business, but they’re happy for the freedom it gives them. Kreature is in charge of watching the two, but with his friendship towards the Regulus they hope he won’t rat them out.

They run around the halls, jumping over furniture and sliding down the rails of the stairs. A muggle game that they watched the ot6her kids play in the streets through their windows. They called it tag.

The brothers threw themselves out of reach from each other, Kreature yelling at them to behave, but all the boys can do is laugh. They’re barely 9 and 10. They spend all their time living up to their parents perfect image, young scholars, piano lessons, flying lessons.

It’s both of theirs first time smiling this hard, being able to breathe easily.

He blinks.

Sirius is on the train to hogwarts. He’s nervous being away from his parents and his brother for the year. His hair is gelled bak, posture straight, and he sits in a compartment alone in his ridiculously expensive robes. He stares out the window, and notices this boy with wild brown hair. His glasses look too big for his face andd he’s hugging his parents good bye before running after the train. It’s 10:58 and the boy is trying to lift his trunk up the steps and make it on the train.

Sirius is baffled by the unseriousness of the boy. He recognizes him from the dinner parties, another blood, a Potter. Jeremy? Maybe Josh? He was never allowed to talk to him, his parents calling his family bloodtraitors.

It’s no time at all for the messy haired boy to poke his head into the compartment.

“Hi!” He’s loud and cheerful and his this stupid grin on his face. “Black, right?” Sirius stares at his and nods. “I’m James! Mind if I sit?”

This is exactly who Sirius shouldn’t be friends with. He’s also exactly who Sirius wants to be friends with. He nods again and extends his hand. “Sirius.” He says. He gives the boy, James, a slight smile. James smiles back and warmness spreads through Sirius’ chest, he feels safe and he can’t exactly pinpoint why or what it is. He knows him and James are going to be friends.

Sirius blinks again, and he’s in his third year setting up a prank with his friends.

They’ve snuck into slytherin dorms, befriended some house elves who are helping out. It’s the early hours of the morning, James and Sirius smushed under the the invisibility robe, Remus under polyjuice potion to look like Slughorn, and Peter was waiting in front of the dorm room as a rat to keep lookout. They snuck around the Slytherins dorms, replacing their robes with ones that were annoyingly pink. Each student got a pink robe on top of their trunks, and the house elves held onto whichever robes they took from the students for cleaning.

James and Sirius were laughing so hard that they woke up the first years, who Remus had to calm down and say he was just doing a dorm check. They were so scared of their head of house being in their dorms at three in the morning that they just nodded along, and Remus had to put a silencio over them for the rest of the night.

They laughed so hard the next morning when the slytherins came into the Great Hall glaring daggers at them in their bubblegum pink robes.

He blinks.

He’s at the hospital, asleep on Remus’ shoulder while Remus reads a book. Peter sits on the other side, watching whatevers playing on the muggle television. Sirius sighs, stretches, and looks around. A kind-looking nurse walks into the waiting room.

“For Potter?” She asks. The three stand up at once. Other family is there too, Effie and Monty, Dorcas and Marlene, even Minnie came to see Baby Potter. Sirius is surrounded by his family, the one he chose and grew up with.

The group goes to the delivery room, Smiling and crying over little Harry. One of them having a baby shows that they’ll be okay. It’s the marauders world, it always has been, and now they’re expanding even more.

Sirius holds his godson for the first time and cries for the joy of it all.

In the third minute, you see the love of your life.

Sirius sees Remus, the quiet eleven year old covered in scars. He carries a thick, wellworn book in his arms, and is wearing an old knit sweater. It hangs off of his lean frame, bunches at his wrists.

Sirius thinks he’s adorable.

It’s their fourth year and they’re sitting next to each other in the great hall. James and Peter are there too, sitting across from them, talking about something that he isn’t paying attention too.

Him and Remus are side by side, shoulders knocking against each other with every laugh, knees bumping into each other every few moments. Sirius was loud, smiling, grinning, soaking in every joyous minute of life that he possibly could. Remus was quiet, small smiles and easy going laughs that Sirius melted for every time.

He blinks.

Sirius and Remus are walking down the halls together. James and Peter are off in Hogsmeade, and Sirius stayed with Remus while he recovers from the full moon the night before. They’re walking through different parts of the castle, planning how they’ll set up for a new prank once the others get back.

Sirius is talking about wizards chess, a way he trapped James in their game last night and beat him. He’s smiling and gesturing happily as he talks, and then Remus grabs his hand. Sirius stops talking and stares, and Remus smiles back and grips Sirius’ hand with a little more confidence.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” Sirius says back.

“Problem?” Remus asks, with a smirk on his face. He knows exactly what he’s doing to Sirius.

“Nope!” It comes out as a squeak, and Sirius immediately wants to face palm and disappear. Remus laughs, and Sirius is swooning.

He blinks again.

He’s crying in his bed, the beginning of his sixth year at Hogwarts. His parents kicked him out and he hasn’t slept in Remus’ bed since. He’s always had nightmares, but they’re worse now, and he doesn’t want to wake Remus every night.

He’s shaking, his covers pulled tight around him and over his head while he struggles to breathe, a silencing charm placed before he fell asleep.

He startles when someone pulls at his curtain and the moonlight shines through the fabric of his blanket.

“Pads?” Remus whispers into the air, hand hovering over the blanket. Sirius tries to bury himself further into his mattress. He lets out a soft sob. “Oh love,” Remus’ hand finds his waist easily, pushing gently until Sirius rolls over.

Sirius lowers the blanket from over his head, his lip wobbling and eyes full of tears when he meets Remus’ face.

“How did you know?” Ha asks. How did you hear me? He thinks.

“I just felt like something was wrong. Can I lay with you?”

Sirius’ heart explodes, and he nods while he moves over to make space. They get resettled, Sirius’ head ends up on Remus’ chest, Remus’ arm wrapped securely around his waist.

“I love you.” Remus whispers into his hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Sleep well.”

Sirius falls asleep with a smile.

The fourth minute shows you all the times you’ve felt alone, sad. Unlovable.

Sirius is sitting in the Great hall on his second day at Hogwarts. People have been staring at him since he entered the hall, his cousins glaring since last night. Since a Black got sorted into Gryffindor and not Slytherin. He wishes he could melt into the ground.

He wishes he was good enough, a good heir, a good son.

The owls bring morning mail, and he’s dreading his parents reaction to his placement. He’s sure they know, dear cousin Bellatrix surely told them the moment they made it back to their dorms.

He winces when he sees his family bird fly in, carrying a crimson red letter in its beak. He drops the letter and it starts screeching in his mothers shrill voice.

“Sirius black! How dare you! How dare you disgrace your family like this? Me and your father are very disappointed. You have embarrassed us! You’ve embarrassed your brother! Pull your act together, or else you’ll regret it. I promise you. You will regret it.”

The letter tears itself apart in front of him. He stares at the destroyed paper, his lip only quivers for a moment before he pulls itself together. Blacks don’t cry. His parents must be mad if they’re willing to send a howler when everyone can hear it. If people weren’t looking at him before, then they certainly are now.

“Well,” he starts. He tries to sound nonchalant and like he doesn’t care. It doesn’t work. It comes out strained and forced. “They seem happy?” He tries for a joke, but no one laughs. Everyone is looking at him, most with pity in their eyes, other looking like they want to laugh.

His new friends look at him like they can’t believe a parent would ever do that to their kid. He envys their obliviousness, their disbelief. They don’t understand what it’s like to have parents like his. James’ parents love him unconditionally, Remus’ mom makes him tea every morning and his father helps heal him father transformations. Peter comes two loving parents and two little brothers, a family that’s the closest Sirius has ever seen.

Sirius feels alone when learning how his parents treat him versus how his friends’ parents treat them. He never realized how different he was, that there was something wrong with him to deserve it.

He cries in his bed later that night.

He blinks.

It’s a cold night, and Sirius sits on toip of the Astronomy tower in thin pajama pants and a white tshirt. He shivers as the wind blows through his hair and licks over his skin. He’s thinner than he’s ever been, refusing to eat unless forced to. Not able to sleep until he’s dropping from exhaustion.

He stares into the sky, looking for anything to ground him back into reality, but at the same time he wishes for nothing more than to disappear. He did the unthinkable, telling Snape Remus’ secret, and now none of his friends will talk to him. They’ll look at him, they’ll glare daggers into him like they want nothing more than to beat the shit out of him.

He wouldn’t blame them. He deserves it.

He blinks.

He’s staring at the wall. He isn’t sure how long he’s been sitting against the concrete wall, staring at the matching concrete wall across from him. He can feel how matted his hair is, how heavy and long it is. Dementors blow cold air into his cell when they pass. He doesn’t have the energy to shiver anymore.

He doesn’t have the energy for anything anymore.

He distantly remembers screaming and crying to anyone who would listen that it wasn’t him. He didn’t kill his best friends, he didn’t rat them out, he would never. Nobody would listen, the guards didn’t care about him in the slightest.

Now he just sits.

He’s accepted his fate that he’s never getting out of Azkaban. His bestfriend is dead. His godson is an orphan. Every letter he’s sent to Remus has gone unanswered. He wants to believe that Remus never received them, but somehow he knows that’s not the case.

Remus probably saw the letters, and he ignored them. He genuinely believes that his boyfriend murdered his best friends.

The fifth minute you see your miracle moments.

Sirius is on the ground screaming in pain. He thinks his screaming anyways, his throat certainly hurts and he can’t catch his breath. His mother stands above him with her wand pointed at his face. He isn’t sure how long he’s there until everything goes dark.

Regulus finds him sometime later and gently helps him up.

“Reg?” Sirius asks, confused. “What’s going on?” Regulus’ face is tearstricken, something Sirius hasn’t seen from his brother in years. He’s never met anyone who could hide their emotions as well as his little brother. “Are you okay?”

Regulus shakes his head silently, pulling a little harsher at Sirius’ arm until he stands up. His side twinges in pain, the tell tale sign of bruises forming over his calves and arms. He inhales sharply when the change in position makes his head pound.

“You have to go.” Regulus whispers. He drags Sirius’ arm over his own shoulders to support his brothers weight. He drags him towards the stairs, the two making their way to Sirius’ room.

“What?” Sirius asks, a bit too loud that Regulus shushes him immediately. “I don’t understand,” he says quiter. He’s a little scatter brained, still trying to figure out what’s going on, why he was on the ground, why his brother was crying.

Regulus nudges the door to Sirius’ room open with his foot, and drops Sirius onto the bed.

The room is destroyed, posters Sirius had on his wall are ripped to shreds, his desk torn apart and papers everywhere, his clothes are spread out on every surface. It’s clear Walburga was searching for something.

Regulus starts grabbing things at random and shoving them into Sirius’ trunk at the foot of his bed.

“Regulus-”

“You have to leave, Sirius.” He keeps stuffing more and more clothes into his trunk. Anything he can reach.

“See, you keep saying that but you won’t tell me why.” Sirius is sitting up in his bed, watching his brother frantically move around his room.

“You’re not safe here, you have to leave.”

Sirius tsks at him. “I’ve never been safe here, what’s it matter now?”

Regulus stops moving and glares hard at him. It doesn’t do much other than show Sirius just how red-eyed and flushed faced his younger brother is. “Regulus….:” His tone is softer, more gentle.

“Because they’ll kill you know!” Regulus yells at him. “She’ll kill you…” His voice breaks, “And I’d rather lose you for the summer than for the rest of my life.” He’s crying again, and Sirius’ breath hitches in his throat. “I was healing you for an hour before you finally woke up. You… You were so cut up, a piece of you arm was missing. There was so many different wounds Siri, did you even notice you were laying in your own blood? Your arm was broken, so was your nose. I healed most of it but, b-but I didn’t you were going to wake up.” Regulus is sobbing. He’s kneeling on the ground by Sirius’ trunk, his hands are balled tightly in fist against his own thighs.

“I thought you weren’t going to wake up..” He whispers.

“Oh, Regulus,” Sirius starts. “Reg I’m okay, I’m alright-”

“But you almost weren’t! Can’t you see that? You almost wweren’t. You aren’t invincible Sirius!” Regulus keeps packing. “You have to leave.”

“I can’t leave you here.”

“You have to!” Regulus huffs, and throws a rolled up pair of socks at him. “You have protected me your whole life. Let me protect you this one time. I’ll be safe here. If I stay, then they won’t come after you!” His hands are shaking so hard that he balls them up again.

Sirius shakes his head, sliding off the bed, and now that Regulus points it out, he notices the weakness in the his left ankle.

“What if they start hurting you once I leave? What then?” Sirius asks, he sits down next to Regulus. He reaches a hand out and grabs one of his, unfurling his fist. There’s small crescent shapes indents from how tight his grip was.

“Then I can take it.”

“No, Reg-”

“No Sirius! I can take it! I need you to be okay! They won’t hurt me the same as they hurt you.”

“Come with me.” Sirius reaches for Regulus other hand.

“I can’t. You know I can’t. If I stay, then you’re free to leave.” Sirius is shaking his head before Regulus even finishes talking. “They won’t kill me Sirius. I’m the back up, they have no one else if something happens to me. Sirius opens his mouth to say something else when they hear the front door slam open.

They look at each other wide eyed.

“You have to leave. Now.” Regulus says, yanking his hands away from his brother and frantically added last things into his trunk.

“Regulus-,”

“No Sirius. Now!” The stairs creek and their mothers footsteps get closer, her heels clicking against the old wooden floor. Regulus pulls his wand out and shrinks Sirius’ trunk to fit in his pocket. He shoves it into Sirius’ hands before grabbing his arm and dragging him towards the window.

“Reggie wait-”

“Sirius if you don’t leave right now I swear to Merlin that I will push you out this window!”

“But-”

“She’s coming!” Regulus starts pushing at Sirius while opening the window and popping the screen out at the same time. “I’ll see you at school in two months. Don’t write, she’ll get mad. I’ll be okay, I promise.”

“I love you.” Sirius yanks his brother into a hug, he holds tight. Never ready to let go.

“I love you too.” Regulus says, melting into his brother. “Please go.” He whispers. Sirius lets go of him, lifting himself out of the window. He sits there for a moment before fully jumping out.

“If something happens, anything happens, you leave. You come to the Potters.”

“Sirius, I can’t leave.”

“You can. And you will. If anything happens you will come to the Potters. Understand? Or else I’m not leaving.”

Regulus huffs, and smiles. His brother has always been so damn stubborn.

“Fine, I promise. Now go. Before she catches us.” Sirius ruffles his hair one more time, before dropping out of the window, into the streets outside. He disappears into the dark just in time for his mother to twist open the door to the bedroom.

Sirius is safe.

He blinks.

He’s underneath one of the quidditch towers. It’s been raining all night, but he doesn’t feel safe enough to go back to his dorm. He doesn’t know if he deserves it. He’s wrapped in a thin blanket from his bed, and abulky sweatshirts. His clothes are wet where they’re touching the mud on the ground below him. The wooden beams on the tower and mostly wet and soaked through, but at least he is protected from the wind.

He shakes. He’s so cold.

He tries to settle himself down a little more, ready to sleep there once again for the night. He’ll sneak back into the dorms during breakfast to shower.

He can hear footsteps leading up to the tower he’s under, feet stomping in mud, but he doesn’t expect them to walk up to the tower and slip into it. He stares wide-eyed at Remus. His hair is plastered to his head and his clothes are soaked through from the rain.

It takes Sirius half a second before he’s scrambling to sit up, his hands sinking into mud puddles around him.

“Rem-” he starts. Trying to apologize again and again, and he would be apologizing for the rest of his life. He stops talking when Remus holds a hand up to him.

“Why are you under here?” Remus asks, displeased. He looks around the small space, cringing at the cold and the state of the structure. Spider webs covered the walls, patches of grass overtaking the corners.

“What?” Sirius was leaning against one of the corners, still on the ground. “I assumed you wouldn’t want me back in the dorms- Remus I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, really, I wasn’t thinking- and- and-”

“Sirius.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. And I know you’ll never forgive me, and I deserve that-” Sirius blabbered over Remus.

“Sirius stop.” Sirius stopped. “I forgive you.”

“What?” He jerked, his brain taking a moment to catch up. “No! You can’t! I don’t deserve it.”

Remus moved to squat down next to Sirius, minding the mud. “I forgive you.” His hand reached out carefully to cup Sirius’ face. Sirius trembled under his touch but leaned into it and the same time.

“Remus…” A stray tear fell from his eye. “Moony..”

Remus wiped it away, pulling Sirius in and hugging his head to his chest. “I forgive you.” He whispered again. “Oh pads,” he said, pressing a kiss to Sirius’ forehead. Sirius sobbed into him, wrapping his arms around Remus’ waist. Remus shushed him quietly, before shifting to look Sirius in the eyes.

“Let’s get you out of here, yeah? I’m half worried that this whole structure is going to fall onto us.” He gave Sirius a strained smile. Sirius let out a wet laugh that was half a sob, taking Remus’ hands and letting him pull him up.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

The sixth minute is when you judge yourself, if you were a good enough person

Regulus dropped a plate at dinner, and he looked like a dear in headlights when his mother started to rise out of her seat, anger in her eyes.

“Reg-” She starts, and Sirius cuts her off.

“So, I’m thinking about dating this girl from school.” He says. He is not thinking about doing that. Ever. “Jessica Wright. She’s a muggleborn, a little dull, but she’s pretty enough.” He’s rambling, saying anything to get his mothers attention on him.

“Excuse me?” She shrieks. “A mudblood? You-”

“Muggle born is the correct term, mother.”

She forgets about Regulus entirely. If looks could kill, Sirius thinks, I’d be a dead man.

His father stays seated, but he puts his utensils down, content with watching his wife torture his child. Sirius keeps talking.

“Mudblood is so outdated, don’t you think? Very posh, very old. From your time probably, right mother?”

Walburga is quick to slap him across the face, her rings biting at his flesh.

“Ouch,” Sirius says sarcastically, hiding how much that hurt. “That was almost painful mother, losing your touch, are we?”

He pinpoints the exact moment she goes from just being angry to downright pissed off. It was going to be a long night.

He’s laying on the ground, eyes shut tight and his fists clenched. His jaw is locked. He will not scream. He won’t give them the satisfaction. He can feel the exact moment his leg snaps and his entire body goes in blinding pain. He gasps, his eyes shooting open while he stares his mother in the eye.

She cackles. She shuts his eyes again.

It’s worth it, he tells himself. It’s worth it, it’s worth it, it’s worth it. He keeps repeating it, convincing himself. Regulus bolted the moment his mother hit him the first time. He’s glad for that, Regulus doesn’t have to see him like this then. He knows his brother will heal him later, but for now he just has to take it until his mother gets tired.

He’s doing good, for his brother.

He blinks.

Him and his friends are sitting in the Great Hall. They got to breakfast early that morning, Sirius next to Remus, James next to Peter.

“This is going to be so good!” Sirius muses. The four talk in hushed whispers, waiting for other students to fill the hall. They’ve charmed Slughorn’s pumpkin juice to spill on his head as soon as he lifts his fork.

The hall starts to fill slowly as more students come to eat breakfast. Finally, Slughorn walks through the hall, yawning and looking not at all awake as he makes his way to the teachers table.

James has to kick Sirius under the table so he stops staring and smiling as slughorn walks past.

“You’ll give us away!” He whispers, but James is smiling anyways. Peter is grinning next to him, they can’t wait for Slughorn to get juiced. Remus smiles, shaking his head at his dumbass friends. The boys have fully abandoned pretending to eat when slughorn finally sits down. He fills his plate with food, and finally picks up his fork.

The hall is mostly filled at this point, and the boys are watching professor Slughorn like hawks.

He picks up his fork, and his goblet raises and tips on his head.

He gasps in shock, hands hovering at his side. Students around the hall notice and start cackling with laughter. The halls shake with joy, and the four boys grin. Sirius and Remus high five under the table, James and Sirius tap their feet together.

Slughorn is fuming. Sirius falters slightly at the look on his face, he’s extremely upset. Then Sirius decides he doesn’t actually care because he made everyone else laugh.

And how bad could he be if he made everyone else happy at the expense of one person?

He blinks.

“Expelliarmus!” James yells. He flicks Snape’s wand out of his hand. There a group following them, chanting.

“Nice one, James!” Sirius grins next to him, James starts to lift Snape in the air. Dangling him upside down.

“Now,” James starts, “who wants to see me take of Snape’s trousers?” The group cheers and yells louder. Sirius is laughing the loudest, nudging James with his arm.

“Do it, Prongs!” He cheers. James does.

They both cackle and laugh at Snape’s expense. Snape is horrified, frantical;ly reaching for his pants, but struggling upside. The boys laugh and ridicule him as they put on a show in front of the crowd. Sirius doesn’t feel an ounce of remorse. Distantly, a small part of his brain wonders if he should.

The seventh minute is unpredictable. You see your entire life start to finish, flashes of everything you’ve ever done.

Sirius sits through piano lessons, his teacher a harsh lady who smacks his hand with a cane if he messes up. He always plays beautifully.

He blinks.

Sirius and Regulus are stuck to each other like glue. Hand and hand running around the house, to the park up the street. Sirius was always pulling him, urging him to move forward forward. All Regulus would do is pull back back back.

“What of our parents, Sirius?” He asked, worried of the trouble they would get in.

“What of us, Reg?” Sirius would shoot back. “Memories over fears, come on.” He would tug Regulus’ hand softly, and Regulus would always come with him anyways.

He blinks.

Sitting at the table in silence, family dinner where it never felt like family. It felt like Regulus and Sirius versus the world. Sirius protecting Regulus from the rest of the world. The food was always quite good though.

He blinks.

Sirius is hugging his brother goodbye the night before he leaves for Hogwarts. Regulus is in Sirius’ bed, clinging onto him.

“Don’t leave.” Regulus cries. He looks at Sirius with large doe eyes. “I don’t want you to go.”

Sirius holds him tighter, pressing Regulus’ face into his neck so he doesn’t have to look at his sad eyes.

“I’m sorry Reggie,” he whispers. “I have to go. But I’ll come back for winter and easter and summer. Then next year we’ll be together again.”

“I’ll miss you.” Regulus mumbles. Sirius gets teary eyed.

“I’ll miss you too,” he chokes out.

He blinks.

Sirius is sitting on the stool in front of the entire school. Everyone looked up when his name was called, another Black heir.

He smirks going up there, no doubt that he’d be put in Slytherin.

“Slytherin?” The sorting hat asks. Sirius’ face drops. The hat sounds like the thought is the funniest in the world.

“Well, it is quite funny,” the hat says. “You barely have an ounce of Slytherin in you. Nothing like your cousins.”

No, no, no.

“Yes… Yes I see, you seem much better suited for..”

Sirius feels his heart drop to his toes. His parents are going to kill him.’

“Gryffindor!” The hat yells. Sirius swallows, and starts walking toward the red and gold table.

His parents are definitely going to kill him.

He blinks.

Sirius and James are pulling a prank, the first one of their second year. They’re standing at one of the higher stairs. They’re hidden under the invisibility cloak, crammed but they fit. Everytime a first year walks by (or a slytherin), they levitate something out of their hands.

So far they’ve got a book, a wand, even a toad. They levitate for a minute or two, watching the owner jump for it just above their reach, before letting it drop.

Sirius and James are grinning, high fiving every time.

He blinks.

Remus and Sirius are sharing a moment by the black lake. James is off wooing Evans, and Peter is with him. Wingman and all. Sirius and Remus get to be alone together, and they’ve just started dating.

Sirius lays his head on Remus’ shoulder, smiling softly.

“I love it when you smile like that.” Remus says. He has a book open in his lap, but he isn’t reading. He’s looking at Sirius.

Sirius feels his face grow hot and hides in Remus’ shoulder.

“Moonyy…” He whines. Remus laughs, one of his hands easily wrapping around Sirius’ waist.

“It’s cute.” Remus says. Sirius blushes harder and tries to burrow further into Remus. Remus grins a toothy grins, forgetting his book entirely and bringing his other hand to play with Sirius’ hair.

He blinks.

He’s standing in the corridor on the night of a full moon. He’s staring down Snape across from him. Fuming.

“Tell me, Black.” Snape says. He smirking, his wand twirling in his hand. Sirius’ wand is in his other. He disarmed him the moment he turned the corner.

“No.”

“No?” Snape mocks. “Is the puppy that whipped? You don’t anything if Remus doesn’t tell you to, do you?” Snape laughs. Sirius wants nothing more than to lunge at him.

“Does Remus make all your decisions for you? Do your homework love, Pay attention Paddy, Be good Sirius.” Snape does his best to mock Remus’ voice, and it only serves to piss Sirius off more.

“Fuck you.” He spits. It takes all of his willpower to not kill Snape where he stands.

“I’m sure Remus does.”

Sirius does lunge this time. Snape freezes him with a flick of his wand.

“Where does he go, Black?” Snape asks again. Sirius is so blinded by fury that he doesn’t fully process what he’s saying until afterwards.

“You really want to know? Go to the willow, press the not. Then you’ll find out.”

Snape grins, greasy and gross, throws Sirius’ wand to the other end of the corridor, and doesn’t release him until he’s already turned the corner. Sirius fills with a strong sense of dread.

Fuck.

He blinks.

Sirius ends up on the Potters doorstep. He’s cold, and quiet, and sad. It’s extremely early in the morning, the back of his shirt is still soaked in blood, but at least he isn’t bleeding since Regulus healed him. The pain is a dull thrum that’s getting stronger. He couldn’t feel it before due to the adrenaline of escaping, but now it hits him full force.

He takes a breath and knocks on the door. He leans against the wall of the porch, righting himself once he realizes he’s leaving a bloodstain.

The light turns on in the entryway, and he blinks tiredly as the door slowly opens. It’s a short women who answers, looking curiously at the young boy on her doorstep.

“Hello?” She asks, cautiously.

“Hi.” Sirius says. “I’m Sirius.”

The women smiles, here face lighting up. “Sirius? James’ friend?” Sirius nods. “Oh my, I’ve heard so much about you! Come in dear, come in.” She says. She opens the door and lets Sirius in, she gasps once he’s in the light and his wounds and blood are visible.

“Monty!” She starts yelling. “Monty get down here!” Sirius starts to lose his fight with consciousness and he feels like he’s underwater. He’s about to turn and ask for James when his head pokes around the corner.

“Mama, que-” His eyes snap to Sirius standing in the middle of the hall looking lost. “Sirius!” He runs down the rest of the stairs and to his friend. “What happened, what’s going on, why-”

“Hi Prongs.” One side of Sirius’ mouth lifts in a slight smile. “I think I need help.”

Everything tilts and he drops to the floor.

He opens his eyes.

“Gryffindor wins the house cup!” Dumbledore yells. All the Gryffindor’s at the table scream and cheer, their hats flying up into the air.

“We did it!” James yells. Him and Sirius climb onto the table.

“We did it!” Sirius yells back, high fiving his best friend. The two grin and smile, setting off fireworks for their departing gift. The Gryffindor crest explodes into the sky. Remus and Peter climb onto the table as well, all taking their final bows.

They graduated.

He blinks.

Remus and Sirius enter their new flat. Eahc holding a box. Sirius drops his in the entry way, going to Remus and making him drops his as well. He stands on his tiptoes to peck Remus’ lips.

“Welcome Home, baby.” He says. He hugs him tightly, everything is going to be okay.

He blinks.

The group is met up at Molly and Arthurs house. Order meeting. The prophecy was just announced, Harry Potter is in danger.

The Potters must go into hiding. Sirius wvows to protect them with his life.

James hugs him, smiles, and chooses Peter.

He blinks.

Sirius is flying to the Potters as fast as he can, his motorcycles going as fast as possible. He gets there and he can hear Lily screaming, before the street goes quiet. He’s too late.

Too late too late too late.

Peter is standing in the driveway, staring at the house.

“Peter!” Sirius screams.” He isn’t fully on the ground before he’s swinging at his old friend. Peter tries to open his mouth, tries to say something but Sirius is on him immediately.

“My, my.” Voldemort comes out of the door, Sirius looks over his shoulder at him. “The Black I couldn’t have.”

He blinks.

He sits staring at the wall of his cell. He would guess it’s beena few years. It fells like it’s been an eternity. He doesn’t know how much longer he can take it.

Someone walks past with a newspaper.

He sees Peter. Peter. As a rat.

Sirius sees red. He’s going to kill Peter. He turns into a dog and slips out.

He blinks.

Sirius sees Remus again in the shack.

Brings back old memories, he thinks. He hugs his friend, boyfriend? Exfriend? He doesn’t know what they are, but he’s happy to see him regardless.

They threaten Peter together.

Just like old times,

He blinks.

Sirius has been in his old house for so long. Too long. Remus stays with him most days, but he’s aching for the chance to get out and help fight.

His godson is in danger.

“Sirius!” Molly calls, he can hear her feet running up the stairs. “Sirius!” She’s out of breath.

“What?” He asks frantically. “Whats happened?”

“It’s Harry! Arthur called, him and his friends broke into the ministry. They’re looking for the prophecy. Sirius, the death eaters found.”

He’s gone in a flash, he apparates to the ministry. He notices the crack of the rest of the order behind him. He doesn’t mind them, he walks straight up to Lucius and punches him in the face.

He blinks.

Everything is dark.

‘

Home. Is his last thought. The next time he opens his eyes, it’s white light except for his best friend standing there waiting for him. James opens his arms for him, which Sirius easily falls into.

I’m home.

#sirius black #peanut writes #angst #regulus black #remus x sirius #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #effie potter #monty potter #fluff #blurbs #fic #wolfstar

35 notes · View notes

thetorturedpoetsfest · 5 months ago

Text

Welcome to Day 15 of The Tortured Poets Fest!

Click the links listed below to check out all of the content our lovely Tortured Poets have created for all of us today! (and go to our bio to access the rest of the AO3 Collection)

✍️ Running With My Dress Unbuttoned by the_casual_author

Ship(s): Andromeda Black Tonks/Ted Tonks

Rating: Gen

Summary:

Three days.

“You either marry Yaxely or there will be consequences. You know what they will be for your supposed lover.” Her father’s words were stern, and Andromeda feels sick as she recalls them.

She doesn’t have a choice.

Or: Andromeda is to be married. She'd rather do anything else.

🕯 Not If, But Which One by Lostinwond3rland @lost-in-wond3rland

Ship(s): Remus Lupin/Sirius Black, James Potter/Regulus Black

Rating: E

Summary:

Dearest Readers,

Welcome back to the London social season. And what a special season it is turning out to be! It has come to this authors attention that the ever-elusive Black brothers will finally be returning from Paris to enter the fray of eligible young lords and ladies, looking to procure nothing but the most exceptional of matches. Will the now Duke of Grimmauld and Lord Black procure suitable matches? Will our two stars find counterparts as bright as they are? Or will they burn out, cutting their London stay short? This author is unsure as of yet, but is surely determined to find out.

Yours Truly, Lady Whistledown

** Grosvenor Square, 1813

The Black Brothers return to the London social season after quite some time away. Will our two shinning stars secure love matches while avoiding scandal? Or will they fall to the seduction of gossip mongers, uncouth desires, and unreasonable expectations?

Aka: Ye Ol' Gossip Girl with dead gay wizards 🗝 the manuscript by ghstboys @ghst-boys

Ship(s): Pansy Parkinson/Gilderoy Lockhart, Pansy Parkinson/Neville Longbottom

Rating: M

Summary:

When Draco leaves Pansy right before their wedding, she's heartbroken. Back in her hometown, she meets Gilderoy Lockhart, a handsome professor. But is it possible that he's not everything he seems?

📜 Home to You by @toofadedtofight

Ship(s): Remus Lupin/Sirius Black

Rating: M

Summary:

Sirius commits a crime and Remus has to deal with the consequences.

“If I wrote to you, would you read my letters?” Sirius asked weakly, clearly unsure of where they stood on now.

“Always, Sirius.”

🖌 Old habits by as_ter @astridblavk Ship(s): Remus Lupin/Sirius Black, Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks

Rating: T

Summary:

A short-story inspired by Taylor Swift's song "The Black Dog"!!

Worried, Sirius immediately ran to him and crouched down in front of him. “What happened?” he asked, but the sandy-haired man seemed not to hear him.

Or even if he did, he was very effectively ignoring him.

“Remus!”

**************

Be sure to check our page for Day 16’s reveals! Until then, Tortured Poets <3

🩶 Your mods,@wolfpadx @multiimoments @heartsoncover @lemonlans @mercurial-witch @steveahoi damagecontrol & shewritesmaybe

21 notes · View notes

hollowed-theory-hall · 2 months ago

Note

is there a difference between house and family?

i guess family is just one patriarch or similar who manages one family. maybe they have a family house and an elf like the Crouch or Malfoys, maybe not. their places in the Wizengamot are not hereditary, but exclusively career

and the houses have more than one family, there are a bunch of cousins with the same surname, and the patriarch manages the finances, access to the Gringotts vault, makes contracts, is the first son of the first son, have a Wizengamot seat, and so on

I mean, irl there are families with a lot of cousins with the same last name (speaking as someone whose grandfather had 6 siblings and now the family needs to rent a place if we all wanna meet up at once) so it's not about the amount of people.

How I see it is that a house is a family that just has a title (kinda like how all squares are rectangles, but not every rectangle is a square).

Like, I think it's purely a title thing and has nothing to do with accounting actually. Both families and houses could be managed in a bunch of different ways depending on the family. I mean, even with irl nobility, different members of the family usually have their own finances and homes and stuff, and it seems to be the case in HP, too. I mean, James and Lily hid in a cottage that I'm pretty sure isn't the main Potter residence. Grimmauld Place wasn't the only home owned by the Black family as I'm certain Bellatrix, Andromeda, Narcissa, and their parents didn't live there. there just doesn't seem to be a single person managing everything for everyone. It's also kinda unrealistic and restrictive. I mean, Bellatrix seems to be well in her right to walk into the Lestrange vault and do whatever with it even though she married in. She doesn't need Rudolphus' or his father's permission to take things out of the vault.

We also see that when there isn't a clear male heir, women do get the inheritance. At the start of HBP, Dumbledore is worried Grimmauld Place went to Bellatrix since Sirius had no children:

Black family tradition decreed that the house was handed down the direct line, to the next male with the name of ‘Black. ’ Sirius was the very last of the line as his younger brother, Regulus, predeceased him and both were childless. While his will makes it perfectly plain that he wants you to have the house, it is nevertheless possible that some spell or enchantment has been set upon the place to ensure that it cannot be owned by anyone other than a pureblood.

(HBP)

There is a preference for a male heir, but when there isn't one, or the one that exists can't qualify for some reason, the eldest female is chosen.

Madam Bones seems to be the head of her family (I am convinced that Bones is a house with a Wizengamot seat) since her brothers died (Edgar and Susan's father).

Hepzibah Smith mentions how her relatives wait for her death to get the inheritance from her:

“Now,” said Hepzibah happily, taking the boxes from the elf, laying them in her lap, and preparing to open the topmost one, “I think you’ll like this, Tom. ... Oh, if my family knew I was showing you. ... They can’t wait to get their hands on this!”

(HBP)

(This shows finances outside the head of the house control or a female head of a house, though which of these cases are presented here is unclear)

Similarly, Agusta Longbottom seems to be the head of her family/house as the eldest relative, even though Uncle Algie exists. Though it is possible she is managing affairs for Neville who is the direct male line and underage for most of the series.

Also, in my headcanon, the Peverells had a Wizengamot seat, and that seat went on to the Potter family through Iolanthe later down the line since she was the last Peverell that could inherit the title, so it passed to the family she married into. The Gaunts probably had something similar happen with them (though I'm convinced William the Conquerer had a hand in that I have, like, a whole set of headcanons about the history of wizards in the UK in the Middle Ages).

I'm also pretty sure any family member could be the one sitting in the Wizengamot if the head of the family doesn't feel like doing it themselves. Like, I imagine Walburga went to Wizengamot sessions more than Orion did, for example (although, in their case, Orion's father Arcturus would've been the head of the house since he died after both of them in 1992). We also know Walburga's cousin, Araminta Meliflua Black, tried to push a bill to legalize muggle hunting, which means it's possible she was the house's Wizengamont member for a bit (or she did it from a different position in the ministry).

I don't think you'd find wizards that use the title Lord [name] (or any other noble title for that matter) either. The Wizengamot titles aren't like that, I think. We never really see anyone other than Voldemort being referred to as a lord, so I find it very unlikely. The Wizengamot titles post-Statute of Secrecy are not related to the muggle concept of lordship that is tied to land ownership so it makes sense they won't have that 'lord' title anymore.

Though I believe that the members of the Wizengamot do have a professional title: Warlock (the person managing the Wizengamot's processes is called the "Chief Warlock"). But that's a professional thing and not a noble house thing.

But these are just some of my thoughts on the subject. (I rambled more on the Wizengamot and houses in the wizarding world a bunch here, here & here)

#harry potter #hp #hp meta #asks #anonymous #hollowedtheory #wizarding world #wizarding society #wizengamot #hollowedrambling

18 notes · View notes

simon-snowing · 2 months ago

Text

no harry and lupin just had that huge fight in deathly hallows i need to kill myself rn

#harry potter #remus lupin #moony #deathly hallows #marauders #hermione granger #ron weasley #grimmaulds square #sirius black #padfoot #james potter #prongs #ao3 #gay #wolfstar

19 notes · View notes

fictionalsimp09 · 5 months ago

Text

darkest hours

@wolfstarbingo2024

They lock eyes, and, not for the first time, notices the lines by his eyes and his greying hair. Sirius once told Remus that they'd grow old together and look how that turned out. Forced to grow up too soon, witnessing things no human should ever see. Fighting in yet another war years later. They've got a lot of time to make up for, though, at the rate things are going, they may not have enough time. Who knows when exactly their time will be up? They've got to make the most of it, create good memories to lighten the darkest hours.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58034860

Square filled: Sex with disability

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: None

Summary: After a long day, Remus and Sirius find comfort in each other at Grimmauld Place

Word count: 1,778

#wolfstar bingo 2024 #wolfstar fic #wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #marauders era #order of the phoenix #angst #smut

15 notes · View notes

calmlyerratic · 2 months ago

Text

Harry's love for Hedwig when she's hurt 😭

“This is urgent,” said Harry curtly.

“Ooooh, urgent, is it?” said the other gargoyle in a high-pitched voice. “Well, that’s put us in our place, hasn’t it?”

Harry knocked; he heard footsteps and then the door opened and he found himself face-to-face with Professor McGonagall.

“You haven’t been given another detention!” she said at once, her square spectacles flashing alarmingly.

“No, Professor!” said Harry hastily.

“Well then, why are you out of class?”

“It’s urgent, apparently,” said the second gargoyle snidely.

“I’m looking for Professor Grubbly-Plank,” Harry explained. “It’s my owl, she’s injured.”

“Injured owl, did you say?”

Professor Grubbly-Plank appeared at Professor McGonagall’s shoulder, smoking a pipe and holding a copy of the Daily Prophet.

“Yes,” said Harry, lifting Hedwig carefully off his shoulder, “she turned up after the other post owls and her wing’s all funny, look —”

Professor Grubbly-Plank stuck her pipe firmly between her teeth and took Hedwig from Harry while Professor McGonagall watched.

“Hmm,” said Professor Grubbly-Plank, her pipe waggling slightly as she talked. “Looks like something’s attacked her. Can’t think what would have done it, though. . . . Thestrals will sometimes go for birds, of course, but Hagrid’s got the Hogwarts thestrals well trained not to touch owls . . .”

Harry neither knew nor cared what thestrals were, he just wanted to know that Hedwig was going to be all right. Professor McGonagall, however, looked sharply at Harry and said, “Do you know how far this owl’s traveled, Potter?”

“Er,” said Harry. “From London, I think.”

He met her eyes briefly and knew that she understood “London” to mean “number twelve, Grimmauld Place” by the way her eyebrows had joined in the middle.

Professor Grubbly-Plank pulled a monocle out of the inside of her robes and screwed it into her eye to examine Hedwig’s wing closely. “I should be able to sort this out if you leave her with me, Potter,” she said. “She shouldn’t be flying long distances for a few days, in any case.”

“Er — right — thanks,” said Harry, just as the bell rang for break.

“No problem,” said Professor Grubbly-Plank gruffly, turning back into the staffroom.

“Just a moment, Wilhelmina!” said Professor McGonagall. “Potter’s letter!”

“Oh yeah!” said Harry, who had momentarily forgotten the scroll tied to Hedwig’s leg. Professor Grubbly-Plank handed it over and then disappeared into the staffroom carrying Hedwig, who was staring at Harry as though unable to believe he would give her away like this.

— OotP, Ch 17: Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four

#erratic canon thoughts #order of the phoenix #harry potter fandom #hedwig the owl #hp quotes #harry potter canon #harry potter quotes #harry potter #hp fandom #hedwig

16 notes · View notes

cherryslyce · 2 years ago

Text

Second Son (XIV) | Regulus Black

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

— Chapter Synopsis: Y/N joins Contessa Zabini for tea. Luna and Y/N make way to Reine, Norway. Y/N remembers something important about Regulus.

Part XIII / Part XV / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader

Notes: The Zabini's and Baroque architecture just makes sense to me. Also uhhh have fun <3.

The cranberry tinted cup that sat in front of you made your tea flush like diluted blood, the glass flared at the rims to resemble a blossom, imposing on the matching saucer that you couldn’t draw your eyes away from.

Luna sat perfectly quaint to your left, eyes running across the opulent clusters of furniture that accessorized the already extravagant room. Intricate carvings lined cream pillars that pinched the rounded windows in front of you, each imposing structure veiled by heavy blush curtains. The wooden table in front of you was polished spotlessly, matching the ornate chair that sat sturdy underneath your rigid body. On the opposite wall, you’re suddenly aware of the colossal gold-trimmed mirror that was no doubt reflecting your squared shoulders.

Blaise was living in a baroque daydream. Damn him.

Your tongue was doing a funny thing, tipping between sensitivity and leathery roughness. That would be of your own doing, having immediately drawn your lips to the scalding tea in an effort to diffuse the tension in your shoulders. Despite the abrupt burn, you had held in the sputtering that twisted in your throat in order to maintain some semblance of decorum.

The silence was becoming unnerving and you could tell that Blaise agreed, the usually composed slytherin was twitching to twist his rings for the nth time. Unexpectedly, when you all had arrived at the Zabini Manor, you were met with a rather unimpressed Theodore Nott. Blaise had quietly whispered that the boy was well-liked by his mother and was often a guest at their manor.

It felt like you and Luna had become prey trapped in a den full of beguiling predators. The Contessa sat across from you with Blaise to her right, the woman not even batting an eye when Theodore chose to round the table and sit next to you instead.

Easy access to attack you or was he also intimidated by the elegant woman?

“So you were at a wedding, dear?” The Contessa’s voice was smothered in a richness that complemented her unflinching gaze.

Clearing your throat lightly, you lean forward to meet her keen eyes, “Yes.” Your tone was mellow–formal, and the lack of embellishing in your answer seemed to both amuse and vex her.

Not giving up so easily, the woman stirs her tea without breaking eye contact, “I see, and you were both making a quick trip to Diagon Alley afterwards?” The question would have seemed innocent if it were coming from anybody else (perhaps with the exception of Voldemort), but you could practically see the gears in her head turning.

“A little disruption ruined our appetite for celebration.”

The woman raises a perfectly trimmed eyebrow at you, “Oh? What’s a wedding without a little family drama?”

You felt like someone had taken a bludger and scrambled your brains with it, high society was truly not for the weak to stomach. You weren’t even sure if the Contessa was teasing you or trying to prod for information.

It was likely the latter, and the thought made your stomach twist a little. Your exchange of letters had always been polite, borderlining strained pleasantries that involved Hogwarts classes, your research, and plans to meet up (that you were hoping to never attend).

“Family drama would have been preferable, I’m afraid,” Your tone lifted ever so slightly, but the small smile pulling at your lips hid how irritated you were becoming with the tango of words.

You shoot Blaise a small glance and see him watching you both with an unreadable expression, though his intense eyes unnerved you a bit. Like mother, like son.

The Contessa’s lips purse thinly and you get the impression that she is also becoming increasingly irate with your resolution, but then her face settles into a sharp grin.

Humming lowly, she tilts her head to assess you before speaking, “You impress me, my dear. It would seem that Blaise is getting better at picking his companions,” You see her shoot a small approving glance at Theodore, who merely sips his tea nonchalantly, “Theodore, Y/N – I hope you both will continue to look out for Blaise. We Zabini’s pride ourselves in our unflinching loyalty and we always return what is given to us threefold.”

Chancing a peek at the boy next to you, you see Theodore meet your eyes evenly. Your move.

Nodding at the dignified woman, you smile genuinely for the first time that evening, “It would be my honor, Contessa Zabini. However, my devotion to Blaise would have continued without question, he is quite-” you raise your eyebrow at the boy, “-fascinating, after all.”

By fascinating, I mean half as scary as you and ten times more approachable. His wicked sense of humor is also a plus.

Blaise narrows his eyes goodheartedly and drops a sugar cube into his cooled tea, “Thanks.” The dry response has Theodore hiding a small smirk in his tea cup, while the Contessa merely shoots an unimpressed look at her son’s sickly concoction.

“Indeed, you are quite personable, Y/N. I can’t help but wonder though, what is your stance on the current political climate? It would be ever so insightful for me.” The woman smoothly questions, the calculative glint in her eyes flashing under the chandelier lights.

Translation: Are you going to induct my son into Voldemort’s goonies or Dumbledore’s sycophants?

Stirring your tea absentmindedly, you decide to answer honestly, “I have my own motivations that don’t exactly align with the polarized ideologies of our sphere. Of course, I have a preference for who I wish to see come out on top, but either way, my own interests outweigh my desire to participate in politics.”

Your answer seems to catch everybody off guard (except for Luna who smiles like she’s known all along), and you see consideration paint the Contessa’s face, “Interesting. Blaise has indicated that you are quite close with Harry Potter, yet you declare neutrality?”

“Neutrality for as long as my interests continue to hold my attention, but I hold no ounce of admiration for the Dark Lord or his underlings.” You hesitate to continue, feeling shifty with how easily your words were spilling out.

Blaise seems to grasp onto your words and leans forwards to prod you, “But?”

“But, I do not think that certain knowledge and teachings should be tabooed.”

Theodore speaks up for the first time to confirm what you were insinuating, “The Dark Arts.”

You nod and lift up your tea cup, sipping carefully despite how tasteless it was due to your burns.

“And these interests of yours, do they involve the Dark Arts?” The Contessa swipes a manicured nail around the handle of her cup, eyes no longer shrewd.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you lean back before answering lightly, “They might. I cannot say for certainty that they do. However, it does involve unusual magic.”

“I see. It makes sense now why you asked to see those Norwegian tomes.” The woman’s eyes are alight, a glow that made it seem as though an investment of hers bloomed to fruition beautifully.

You shuddered imperceptibly. Was it an honor or an omen that she seemed so intrigued by you?

Theodore perks up and he turns to you with wide eyes, “Norwegian tomes?”

The boy’s eagerness for knowledge was palpable, and you couldn’t help but be amused by his antics. It was so familiar because you saw it often in Regulus.

Regulus. You winced. You wouldn’t think about it anymore.

“Yes,” Turning to face the Contessa, you weigh your options, “If I may, I was wondering if I could borrow an owl for a letter. I want to inform my other friends of my plans going forward.”

Blaise raises his eyebrows and frowns, “Plans? Are you not meeting up with them soon?”

“Actually, I-” Luna turns to you with determined eyes at your slip up, “-we are heading North.”

“North?” Blaise looks exceedingly unimpressed and you knew you wouldn’t be going anywhere until you satiated his curiosity.

“Yes, up North.”

“Where up North, pray tell?” He drawls with crossed arms.

“Norway. We’re going to Norway.” Your tone was flat, eyes conveying your exasperation.

Blaise sputters indignantly and barely restrains himself from throwing his hands up, “Norway? We have school in two weeks! How long are you planning to be there for?”

“Indefinitely. It’s for my personal research.”

“Well, I’m coming with you.” Blaise’s declaration has you darting your eyes to the Contessa with bated breath, watching the woman cross her arms.

“Absolutely not. You have school, caro.” Blaise frowns deeply at his mother’s refusal and sits back in his seat, shoulders sagging in defeat, unwilling to argue with her. Theodore looks at you like you’ve grown a second head, likely considering if he would be able to leave school early too with the excuse of sabbatical.

The Contessa turns to you, ignoring her son’s fit, “Of course, I’ll have one of my house elfs fetch you some parchment and ink. I’m sure Blaise wouldn’t mind if you borrowed his owl,” The woman suddenly rises from her seat and shoots you all a pleasant smile before smoothing out her dress, “This evening has been quite insightful. I look forward to our next meeting, Y/N. Safe journeys, don’t be a stranger.”

Without waiting for a response, the woman spins on her heel and struts towards the double doors, calling for an elf as she crosses the threshold, “Viren, bring some parchment and ink for my guests.” The door clicks shut behind her as her last words reach your ears, and you slump in your seat as exhaustion soars through your veins.

Before a disgruntled Blaise or an eager Theodore – the bloody ravenclaw in snake skin, can get a word out, a light pop draws your attention towards a rather properly dressed house elf, parchment and writing supplies in tow.

Luna is quick to gather the supplies and quietly thank the elf, smoothing out the parchment in front of you.

“I still want to go with you.” Blaise’s voice is soft, and you’re unable to detect any irritation.

Peering up from your writing, you smile lightly at the two boys, “Sorry. You two need to hold down the fort. I didn’t say anything earlier, but the Ministry has been infiltrated by Voldemort and his followers, that’s why we left the wedding in such a hurry. Scrimgeour is dead as well,” You heave a sigh and flick the quill casually, “I suspect Hogwarts is going to be overtaken next, and Harry and I wouldn’t be caught dead there this year, we’d be like little crup puppies in a ball pit.”

Both slytherins look stumped by your straightforwardness, and Blaise huffs out a little ‘well shit’ that has you nodding.

Theodore stares deeply into the translucent pool of tea in his cup, voice barely above a whisper, “The war is going to end soon.”

“Yes, and Harry’s going to make sure Voldemort is damned all the way into the afterlife.” If either of the boys were unconvinced by your conviction, they didn’t let it show, opting to share a look of understanding with each other before turning to you and nodding lightly.

Blaise rounds the table and drops his hands onto your shoulders, “You better not die. And I guess I can take care of our ward for the time being.”

“Ward?” Theodore sounds (rightfully) perplexed by his best friend’s words.

“Little Draconis,” you supply, much to Theodore’s bewilderment, “And Blaise, stop making it sound like we’ve adopted him!”

You wave your friend off and finish up your letter, leaning back in satisfaction as you hear Blaise clamber away to fetch his owl.

Prongslet (and co),

Luna and I are going to redeem our meal tickets (not as bizarre of a gift as one may think). We may not be back before darkness falls. Tell the old menace I said hello, and that I will make good on my promise to him. Stay safe and stay together.

- Someone’s beloved Birdie

Norway was incomparably arctic to Britain, the frigid winds bit at the tips of your fingers with fervid rushes, and you were positive that your legs were now flesh icicles. Despite how ardently your body protested against the climate, you couldn’t help the serene smile that mapped the muscles of your face. The chill was not the only difference the region had over Britain, and its tranquility was almost foreign to you.

Now more than ever, Wizarding Britain seemed to have a miasma of doom looming over the country and the change of pace was almost tangible.

“Here we are,” Luna’s airy voice was a welcomed sound amidst your inner exultation. You couldn’t help but draw similarities between the mysticality of Luna’s magic and disposition, and the blankets of fog that permeated over the lake in the far distance.

Both were curious in their own aspects, but you couldn’t help but want to melt deeper in the feeling they both surrounded you with.

You pulled your overcoat tighter around your body, thanking Merlin and those above that Blaise practically tore his closet right to left to find suitable clothing for you and Luna before you both departed from Zabini Manor.

Stepping closer to Luna, you hum as you observe the view in the distance, “It’s beautiful.”

Reine was truly idyllic. The fishing village was cupped by snowy peaks that towered over the clots of buildings which mottled the shores of the lake – a place truly untouched by the withering fog of petulant human conflict.

The apparition was quite tiring and you could feel fatigue coiling around your muscles, urging you to quickly seek refuge.

“Couldn’t have picked a better place really: picturesque, remote, and lauded for proficiency in multiple languages.” Your words are light and playful, spurning a grin to bloom on Luna’s face.

Dumbledore practically handed you a bubble-wrapped opportunity served on a golden platter.

The both of you begin to trek towards the village, not wanting to risk apparition in case you were seen by any locals. To your knowledge, this Anders Fiske was the only magical folk in Reine, holing himself away from densely populated regions for reasons only Merlin knows.

As you approach the banks of the waters and the largest building amongst the cluster, you inhale shakily as you see a sinewy man exit the building. The man seems to pause and do a double take, fully turning when he realized that you weren’t a figment of his imagination.

“Hello,” His voice is gruff and gratingly neutral, only weakening your resolve.

Talking to people was hard. But you survived a – conversation? interrogation? with Contessa Zabini, this should be a piece of cake.

“Hello, we’re looking for someone named Anders Fiske,” your tone is even and you try your best to look as friendly as possible. Luna simply stares off into a red house in the distance, seeming to look straight through the man in front of you.

Immediately, you can see the man tense before he forcibly relaxes his stance, pinching his eyebrows together as he surveys you, “There is no one here by that name.”

You would have believed him. If you were a dolt, of course.

“Are you certain? It’s rather important, and he’s the only one that can help us.” The man doesn’t falter and you frown when you feel something inch towards you.

Helga almighty.

He had a magical signature. The man in front of you was clearly a wizard, whether he knew it or not.

Before you can ruminate on your discovery, the man speaks up, “Yes. So you both should leave.”

A subtle bone in his body, there was not.

Feeling your eye twitch, you decide to do some searching on your own terms. Releasing your magic, you slowly blanket the surrounding buildings in search for another magical signature. It was clear enough that the man in front of you was not who you were looking for – unless Dumbledore wanted you to have some grilled monkfish with the most conspicuous wizard ever to roam the earth since Godric Gryffindor himself.

As you continue to scavenge the village with your magic, the man in front of you shifts from side to side, clearly becoming wary of your sudden silence and blank stare.

Before you can continue, a thunderous slam has you flinching out of your concentration. Peering around the looming man, your eyes meet a guarded gaze. Tilting your head, you sidestep and assess the newcomer, smiling slowly as you realize that he was another wizard.

The new man was much older and you could see the way he leaned on his right leg as if his left one was aching from the slightest pressure. He was hunched in the pathway of the red house Luna was observing, mouth set into a deep frown.

“Bingo,” Without waiting for the younger man to say anything (or possibly toss you into the lake), you stroll over toward the older man who was slowly retreating back into his house.

Luna follows after you and nods happily to herself, starting to skip by your side.

Stopping a few yards away from the man, you roll your shoulders to ease your soreness before jumping into the golden question, “Are you Anders Fiske?”

The man appears to be ready to vehemently deny your question, but Luna speaks up before he can even utter a mumble, “Dumbledore sent us!”

“Dumbledore?” The man’s harsh wrinkles smooth over ever so slightly, and your former headmaster’s name seems to roll off his tongue instinctually.

“Yes. In his will, he told me that I needed to seek you out for a…meal? I’m in need of your help,” The man seems nonplussed by your declaration, and you purse your lips before sweetening up your words, “Please.”

You see the man’s eyes flicker behind you and back rapidly, seeming to mull over everything.

Without a word, the man dips into the shadow of his house with one last glower.

Excuse me, what?

“Come,” You’re startled out of your stupor by a familiar deep voice, and you can only trail forward, mouth hung open, as the younger man leads you and Luna inside.

As the younger man closes the door shut behind you, an array of lamps flicker to life around the room, illuminating the perimeter much to your amazement. The room was cozy and frazzled in a similar fashion to the Weasley’s home, and your eyes couldn’t help but trail across a wall of tomes the size of your head.

“You shouldn’t be here,” The older man – Anders, grumbles from the middle of the room, sat at the dining table with a demeanor you found synonymous with Moody during meetings at Grimmauld Place.

Smiling coyly, you watch Luna as she wanders almost weightlessly towards the small corner kitchen, “You shouldn’t have revealed yourself, Anders.”

The man lets out a low grunt and you almost have to physically restrain your eyebrows from floating off your face. This man was literally Moody in a different, older font.

“You would have figured it out anyway. Could feel that magic of yours suffocating the whole place from in here.” His tone was rough, but you wanted to believe that there was an impressed shine in his eyes.

The younger man who was (surprisingly) still behind you, decides to interrupt your conversation, “Father, who are these people?”

Anders places his elbows on the table and gives you and Luna a once-over, “Magical folk.”

“A threat?” Anders’ son carries an edge to his tone that has you nearly rolling your eyes.

You were about to blast him through the window, but you couldn’t let this opportunity slip away because of unbridled temptations.

“That remains to be seen.”

Anders’ reply seems to placate his son for the time being, and he heads off towards Luna as the girl hunches over to study a chipped teapot on the counter. You shift and make your way to stand in across from Anders, not exactly sure what approach to take.

The yellow lighting bounced off the man’s face and gave him a sickly complexion, emphasizing his stress lines and suspicious eyes as you drew closer.

“So, Dumbledore is dead?” He sounded almost regretful. Either that or you knocked your head on the way in.

“Unfortunately. War is not forgiving, especially to martyrs.” Your tone was not nearly as sad as it probably should have been, but it seemed to be of no trouble for the older wizard.

Anders sighs and leans back in his seat, one hand coming to clutch his shoulder unconsciously, “The old fool knew what he was getting into,” He raises his eyes to look at you appraisingly, “Can’t imagine why he’d send you my way, anyway.”

“I’m researching. Something that is unfortunately, extremely niche. Dumbledore said you might be able to enlighten me on the subject.” Your determined tone seems to draw in some interest from him, and you have to mask the victorious feeling that washes over you.

That’s right, scholar to scholar. Hook, line, and sinker.

The man waits for you to continue, so you slowly pull out the chair in front of you and sink down across from him, “It’s about magical essences. It seems that you are quite sensitive to magical signatures, seeing as you could sense me releasing my magic earlier,” Anders gives a brisk nod, and you clench your hands as you continue, “A few summers ago, I encountered something strange–special. I found a portrait that was imbued with magical essence, and this portrait, he was extremely sentient.”

You feel a knot lodge in your throat at the reminder of Regulus, the wound of his destruction feeling painfully raw again. Seeing your sudden hesitance, Anders raises a scruffy white eyebrow, “And where is this portrait now?”

Your gaze drops to the table, your eyes blazing right into the worn wood, so marred and aged, unlike the one at Zabini Manor.

“Gone, then? I don’t know how I’m supposed to be of help in that case.” You raise your eyes and meet his cold gaze, clenching your jaw at his stoic expression, “You both can stay the night in the basement, for the sake of doing an old friend a favor. I expect you to be gone by daylight, tomorrow.”

Without pause, Anders pushes himself off the chair and limps further into the house, leaving you to awkwardly stew in your rejection while his son and Luna linger behind you.

Anders’ son breaks the tense silence first, “Sorry about him, he’s…”

“Stubborn?” Luna offers.

“Honest.” You reply at the same time.

Whirling around in your seat, you will away the veil of exhaustion and hurt that clouded your mind and look up at Anders’ son, really seeing him for the first time. You see the resemblance between the both of them, from their narrowed eyes to their thin noses, and the unmistakable metallic chill engulfed in both of their magic.

Slowly rising from your seat, you send a fleeting smile to the boy, “Don’t believe we know your name.”

“Asger,” His tone is much less taut than before, from pity or understanding, you didn’t know.

“Nice to meet you, and thanks.”

The boy–Asger, waves off your thanks and simply juts his shoulder forward, silently telling you to follow him. Feeling all of your survival instincts switch off, you tread behind him with glassy eyes, barely aware of your surroundings even when Luna tucks her arm around your body, guiding you around the unfamiliar environment.

It appeared that Anders utilized his magical prowess and performed a disappearing act by the time you reached the basement, the older man being nowhere in sight despite the fact that there was only one door in the back of the house–which led to the basement.

You and Luna got settled in, not bothered by the loose threads of your blankets or the dusty boxes that rested against the walls. You were both given a (surprisingly) comfortable mattress to share, and you almost wanted to cry when Luna started to draw patterns on your palm as you both stared up at the spackled ceiling.

“Our journey has not ended yet,” Luna’s voice is small, but still fueled with conviction.

“Thanks, Luna. I don’t even know where I’d be without you.”

A comfortable silence descends upon you two, and you shift to get comfortable in your spot, realizing that Blaise’s overcoat was making it difficult to turn over. Slowly sitting up, you shrug off the thick material, and fix your jacket, realizing it was slightly askew from your movements. As you smooth down the material, you freeze as your hand moves over a thick bulk in your inner pocket.

Portrait…?

No. Of course not.

Ignoring the cold sinking of your stomach, you fish out the object and search blindly for your wand.

“Lumos.”

Your breath hitches.

Regulus’ journal. The one you found stuffed between his mattresses. Swallowing harshly, you slowly run a hand over the wrinkled cover.

How could you have forgotten?

As you try to maneuver your wand to allow both of your hands to be free, a gentle tug has you swiveling your head to the side. Luna merely smiles at you before looking back at the journal, nimbly holding your wand over the book so you could flip through it.

“I can look away if you want,” Luna’s gentle voice slices through the air with a warmth that you viscerally feel in your chest, and you smile at the girl in gratitude. As she turns her gaze to the darkness, seemingly becoming entranced by nothingness, you slowly furl the first pages open.

Property of Regulus Arcturus Black

You turn the page, fingers twitching as you resist the temptation to trace the swirls of his name.

3 November, 1976

Today is Sirius’ birthday. The first year he will celebrate away from home, as a disappointment to the family name. Mother and Father were particularly cold today. I just have to try harder. Sirius has stopped replying to my letters, and he avoids me in the halls.

I think I hate him.

Your heart pounds furiously in your chest as you reread the entry, struck by the unfamiliar loathing coated in his tone. Sirius was sixteen when he left, so seventeen in 1976. Regulus was only fifteen when he wrote this, and already so tied down by his family and abandonment issues.

The next few pages contain similar entries, all filled with abhorrence for Sirius and bitterness towards his parents.

Then the year changes.

8 September, 1978

The Dark Lord is going to change the world, make it a better, purer place. Mother and Father were pleased when I announced that I would be taking the mark soon, already having made strides among his growing forces.

Sirius would hate it. I know he would. But he would expect it. He should, anyway.

He already hates me, what damage could this do to our already broken relationship?

He should hate me.

I hate myself. I hate him.

I hate him so much.

17 December, 1978

Visiting my portrait was eventful. I can feel him growing stronger with every meeting. I think I’ll have to repaint it soon, looking at it and seeing a reflection of who I used to be never gets easier.

The next repaint, I’m going to finally do it. Hopefully, all my research will have paid off. Uncle Alphard’s book on magical essences was more helpful than I could have ever imagined.

The room is complete, and I can feel my magic all over it. If I can imbue it into my portrait as well, it will be perfect.

Maybe then he can forgive me. If I explain. If I try.

The Dark Lord is expecting me soon.

3 January, 1979

The repainting was a success. My hand will be sore for the next few days, but it was all worth it. I finally figured out how to key the room. The only person who will be able to access it now is Sirius. That is if he ever returns home.

My portrait is so like me, it’s truly uncanny. Perhaps I can publish my findings after I graduate.

My mark aches often.

I miss Sirius.

5 March, 1979

The Dark Lord tried to kill Kreacher.

After everything I’ve done for him. After everything I’ve sacrificed.

Sirius was right.

Kreacher keeps talking about a potion and a locket. I need to understand. I have to.

It is imperative that I impart everything I know to my portrait, so Sirius will know that I tried. That I finally understand.

Is this my punishment? Must I suffer so for forgiveness? If he does not forgive me, will it all have been for nothing?

I need to find out what the Dark Lord is hiding. It will be my repentance.

19 May, 1979

Horcruxes.

Such vile creations, a defiling of one’s soul. The Dark Lord has a horcrux. I need to destroy it.

My portrait grows restless with me. To think it was even possible. He only has the faintest ideas of my current ambitions, but I feel everyday that he is growing to be someone I never could be. Someone that Sirius would be able to forgive.

I’ll destroy the horcrux and accept the conditions tied to it.

There is no other way.

8 June, 1979

Everyday I grow closer to executing my plan.

I have given my portrait everything he needs to know.

I wonder, is all soul magic as abominable as horcruxes? I begin to see parallels with magical essences and soul magic. Yet, they feel completely different.

Or perhaps I have finally lost all sense. I have always been a hypocrite.

I wait with bated breath.

I will destroy it even if it kills me, and it will be glorious.

28 July, 1979

I fear that if I wait any longer I will go back on my conviction.

Mother and Father are growing increasingly vexed with me. I think they want to marry me off by winter.

It will be before then.

I have stopped confiding in my portrait about my deeper feelings. I fear that my weakness will be obvious even to him.

I have read more about magical essences to distract myself. Even the Dark Lord is not omniscient. Magical essences have ties to one’s soul, the bounds of such revelation I do not know. Yet, I have learned of something even the Dark Lord is ignorant to, and because of that, he has debased himself with horcruxes.

A small victory, and an inkling of how it will feel when he’s gone.

When he falls.

14 August, 1979

I will do it in autumn.

I hope it will all be worth it.

26 October, 1979

My portrait can cast magic.

I wonder if Sirius will be proud.

29 October, 1979

I wonder what being in love feels like.

2 November, 1979

I never really had aspirations outside of what was expected of me.

Have I always been so pitiful? Was I the only one who couldn’t see it?

15 November, 1979

I hear that the Potters are expecting their first child.

I wonder how Sirius will treat their baby.

I think I’m going crazy.

17 November, 1979

Tomorrow.

You flip through the journal hastily, and you feel your eyes sting in the darkness at the crushing realization.

Blank pages. Empty and unfeeling, and so telling of his fate.

You weren’t going to leave tomorrow.

Anders would have to drag you kicking and screaming. You wouldn’t give up on Regulus, not after everything he sacrificed.

You will do whatever it takes.

863 notes · View notes