#stuffed house elf heads

[lulublack90]

Prompt 5 - Extract

@jegulus-microfic August 5, Word count 590

Previous part First Wolfstar part

The house was cold, so cold in fact that James could see his breath in front of him. They’d been through the layout of the house for James’s sake. Regulus and Sirius had decided to try the first floor first, as the ground floor had only the kitchen and the dining room. The first floor had sitting rooms, private studies and the library. There were multiple heavy wooden display cases of priceless junk the Black family had collected over the centuries. This was where they would look first, as a locket could easily be added with no one noticing. 

They started up the stairs. James had to press his palm across his mouth when they passed a display of stuffed and mounted house elf heads. He’d heard that some of the old families did this, but the reality was stomach-turning. He urged Sirius on, to put distance between him and those shrivelled heads with the lifeless eyes.

They silently entered a small sitting room, designed for a single person or a pair to enjoy. After checking that no one was in there, James pulled the invisibility cloak off them, and they began to search. They peered into the cabinets. Their eyes rested on each item, lingering on the jewellery, but the locket Regulus had shown them was nowhere to be seen.

Room after room, they searched until there was only one left on that floor. It was the grandest room, designated for large gatherings. The collections of items in that room numbered in the hundreds. 

“I’ve had enough of this,” Sirius growled under his breath. He twisted in the middle of the room as he tried to extract his wand from his robes. “Accio locket!” He grunted, pointing his wand vaguely at the room. Nothing happened. “Gah!” He huffed and went back to searching. James had noticed that since Sirius had been kept prisoner and turned, his patience, which up until this point had been pretty high, was now almost non-existent. He watched as his friend crouched low to the floor and twisted his face into an ugly grimace. 

“Sirius, what are you doing?” He’d stopped looking in the cabinets and was muttering under his breath. James moved closer to hear what he was saying. 

“Master Regulus needs Kreacher to hide his locket. Kreacher needs to hide it well or Master Regulus won’t be happy.” Sirius was using a rather raspy grumble of a voice in a higher pitch than he’d usually speak in. Sirius turned his head this way and that, sniffing the air. He crept forward, still crouched down, and put his hand on one of the cases. He sniffed the air again and narrowed his eyes. "Master Regulus said to keep it safe." James left him to do whatever he was doing without interruption. He looked like he was onto something. Sirius slid the glass front out of the way and plunged his hand into the dark depths of the bottom shelf. His eyes went wide as his hand curled around an object and brought it out into the dim light. He held it up for them both to see. The locket dangled by its chain from his fingers.

“You found it,” James whispered in awe. Sirius nodded, a quick smile flashing across his lips. 

“Let’s get out of here before—” 

A door slammed downstairs and the sound of multiple footsteps climbed up the stairs. James hurried to cover them with the cloak and just as it fell into place the doors of their room burst open.

Next part

[ladykailitha]

Spellbound Part 6

Uh... yeah. So about not posting this story in literal eons... I'm really really sorry. I have been hitting writer's block for this and Dragon Slayer so I put it on the back burner until I could get past it and while I haven't yet, I do have a bit of backlog for it so it's getting put out instead of Forever Young which needs its backlog built back up.

I recommend rereading the first five parts starting here. Or the most recent chapter here.

This chapter is all about Max. Yep, the whole thing. Tissues at the ready!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

~

Steve was almost fully recovered when it happened.

He had been brewing a potion for Mrs. Click, the old school teacher when he felt it. The gut punch feeling of a charm being used.

Then Merlin, Circe, and Bav all started trying to get his attention all at once. Like he didn’t feel who used their charm.

Like he didn’t know that Max was in trouble.

Steve grabbed his satchel and started stuffing it with all her favorite treats. A warm blanket and some calming herbal tea, too.

He then gathered up his wares for his patients and put them in a basket. He paused at the door and looked up at the ceiling. “I can’t. You know I can’t, Bav. If I break the rule for Max I would have to break it for other people too.”

Circe landed on his shoulder and rubbed his cheek with her beak. He reached up and rubbed her chest. “Let’s go save our girl, Circe.”

He past Wayne’s house with a sense of dread. He didn’t know what it was about Chrissy but she sent off alarm bells in his magic, the more he interacted with her. He kept his head down, but he could see out of the corner of his eye that the curtain fluttered.

Steve carefully went on his way stopping and talking to people as he normally would. Circe would fly off and bring him back word. The Watch had been called. Susan and Billy were in shock. Max was hiding in her room.

He was just coming out of one of the other houses in the neighborhood when Callahan stopped him.

“Steve!” he called out. “Would you come here? Maybe you could make heads or tails of this nonsense.”

He dutifully trotted over to him. “What’s up, Watchman Callahan?” His fingers twisted around the strap of his satchel, gripping it tight.

“Neil Hargrove was found dead by his son, Billy, this afternoon,” Callahan explained. “Just slumped over in his chair, beer in hand.”

Good, Steve thought viciously. It worked as intended. “Sounds to me like he finally drank himself to death. But I can look if you suspect foul play.”

Just then Jim came out of the house, thumbs in his belt loops. “Steve! It’s good to see ya, what brings ya out to these parts?”

He smiled back at the Head Watchman. “Just out delivering my medicines.” He held up the basket that was nearly empty.

“Don’t one of the boys do that on Mondays,” Jim asked in confusion. “They are usually scrambling to get out of their schoolwork.”

Steve shook his head. “I hadn’t seen any of them by the time I was done with my morning chores.” Which maybe if he had waited until noon like he normally did, they might have arrived in time to take his deliveries, but he needed to be here for this.

“Probably out playing in the marshes again,” Jim said shaking his head. “I swear one of those kids is going to dive face first into it and never come out again.”

Steve blanched. “There are more dangerous things in the marsh than the usual pitfalls and wild animals. This marsh has a far darrig. Or redcap and it does not take lightly to interlopers.”

Jim and Callahan shared a glance and then burst out laughing.

“There’s no such thing,” Callahan snorted, shaking his head. “Like I get you’re a witch and all, but there is no such thing as redcaps. If it’s not in the Bible it don’t exist.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up. “The Hendersons have a brownie or house elf and you don’t think their darker, more malevolent cousin doesn’t exist?”

Jim and Callahan looked at each other in shock.

“The Hendersons have a what now?” Jim asked cocking his head to the side. “I haven’t heard anything about some spirit in their house.”

“Not a spirit, Head Watchman,” Steve corrected. “I’ve always called them house elves because that’s what my mother called hers. But I was talking to Nona, the Hendersons’ elf and she was telling me that out here in the country they preferred the name brownie. She’s such a sweet thing and Claudia was telling me what a godsend she was.”

Both Watchmen stared at him blankly as if he had grown three heads. Steve cleared his throat. “So did you still want me to take a look to see if there was some foul play involved?”

Jim looked over at Callahan, who shrugged.

“I figured it couldn’t hurt,” Callahan said. “I mean Neil Hargrove was a lot of things but well liked wasn’t one of them.”

Jim sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No, you’re right. Can’t rule out anything at this point. So yeah, Steve you can take a look. Just don’t touch anything if you can help it.”

Steve nodded and slipped past them. He opened the door and saw a literal disaster. Tables had been turned over, vases broken, and chairs tossed around. Well, all but one. There was a big comfy armchair in the middle of the carnage and it was a very dead Neil Hargrove. He was grey and unblinking, flies landing in his eyes as they swarmed around the corpse.

It was clear that Neil had come home and in a fit of rage destroyed the house and then sat down for a beer.

Dread pooled in his stomach as he spotted only Susan and Billy, standing by the door. Susan was crying, handkerchief in hand, while Billy stoically looked on. The boy was in a state of shock, eyes glassed over as he stared unblinkingly at the tableau in front of him.

“Where’s Max?” Steve asked, his voice steadier than his nerves.

Suddenly there was a red head peeking out of a nearby room and then suddenly Steve had an armful of a scared little girl. Steve lifted her head and gasped in sympathy. She had a black eye and split lip.

“I was so scared,” she whispered. “He came home in a fury, screaming about some job that he didn’t have the wood for because he forgot to buy it because he was drunk about how it was all Billy’s fault and how he would have beaten him too if he’d been there.”

Billy’s eyes snapped their direction and Steve could see how much more pale he suddenly was.

“I was getting the wood for him like he asked,” Billy mumbled. “But Mr. Miller was have trouble getting the wood off the pile and into the cart, even with my help.”

“So I started making tea to calm him down like I always do,” Max continued. “And he just hit me. Called me useless, said that he couldn’t wait until I turned sixteen so that he could sell me off for more beer.”

Susan let out a gasp behind him, but Steve ignored her, focusing instead on Max. “Then what happened?”

“He tore up the house looking for the booze Mom hid,” she muttered. “He hit me again and told me to tell him where she hid it or he would beat me until I told.” A sob ripped from her body as she just started to cry. “So I got one of the bottles of beer that Mom told me to hide in my room and gave it to him. Then I stayed in my room out of his way. I didn’t even know he was dead until Billy and Mom came looking for him.”

“You’re safe now,” Steve murmured, hold her tight. “You’re safe now. It looks to me that all that rage and booze finally did his heart in. The coal black shrunken thing that it was.”

“I don’t know what will happen to the business,” Billy said, fear trembling in his voice. “I haven’t taken my master’s exam. Will someone come and take it from me?”

Steve had never been a fan of Billy’s. The boy took after his father in too many ways, but right now he was just a scared kid whose dad had just died.

“We’ll figure something out,” he assured him. “We’ll make sure that the business stays in your hands like Neil would have wanted. All right?”

Billy nodded, his lip starting to quiver.

That was then Jim and Callahan came into the house, carefully avoiding the bits of a shattered vase that Neil must have thrown at the door.

“So what’s the verdict, Steve?” Jim asked, taking in the battered face of Max and then back to Steve. He licked his lips slowly and raised an eyebrow at Steve.

“Booze and rage,” Steve said shaking his head. “If he stopped the booze, maybe the rage would have stopped, too. But regardless, it seems both did him in.” Which wasn’t a lie. If Neil hadn’t come home in a rage, looking for more booze and hit Max he would have lived longer. But as it was, he really couldn’t hold his belladonna.

Callahan shook his head, clicking his tongue. “That’s damn shame. He was good carpenter when he was sober. It really is a lost to the community as well as your family.” This last part seemed directed at Billy in particular.

“Thank you,” Billy murmured sadly.

Steve looked closer and saw that the grief was genuine, but underneath was an undercurrent of relief. That his father would no longer be the erratic, angry mess who upended their lives every day.

“Head Watchman?” Steve said with a small smile. “Could I be permitted to fix what was broken?”

Jim looked at him for a moment. “Ya gonna pass out on me?”

Steve shook his head. “I’ve been able to master this spell since I was younger than Max here.”

Jim waved his hand for him to go ahead.

Steve nodded once and then he began to glow a shimmering gold. Everyone was paying attention to him so they missed as everything broken mended itself back together. Then the glow faded.

“There we go!” he said brightly, looking around at the room. “You’ll still have to pick everything up, but at least you won’t have worry about shards or splinters.”

Everyone looked around, too and sure enough the table was still tipped over, the chairs shattered around, and vase in front of the door, but they merely looked like some had set them there instead of having gone a rampage.

Billy raised his eyebrows. “That’s a neat trick.”

“Well,” Steve said with a half shrug, “it doesn’t do all the work. But yeah, it’s nice to know that breaking a family heirloom will never stay broke.”

“Thank you, Steve,” Susan murmured. “It’ll make picking up the pieces all the easier because of your kindness.”

Then Steve’s stomach let out a loud, rumbling growl. He turned bright pink and ducked his head.

“I thought you said you’d be fine,” Jim said with a smirk, shaking his head. “Boy, the next town over would have heard that.”

“That was your stomach?” Max said, looking up from his embrace. “Holy shit, I felt that.”

“Every witch uses up a shit ton of energy to perform their magic,” Steve huffed, rubbing his nose. “It’s that I also faint when I use too much.”

“You faint?” Billy asked, barely hiding a smirk. “I didn’t realize you were that weak.”

“My good sir,” Steve said, rolling his eyes. ‘I just set your house to rights with out batting an eyelash, is that really the person you want to call weak in this moment?”

Billy had the decency to look chagrin at least.

Steve kissed the top of Max’s head. “Will you be okay now?” She nodded and he let her go. “I’ll be by tomorrow to check up on you or I’ll send one of the hellions if they dodge school again.”

“They’re always dodging school,” she huffed. “They get to go school and they don’t even want to be there.”

Steve chuckled. Max wanted to do all the things the boys could do but better, but was bound by her sex. Then he had thought. There was one way for the ‘don’t not return’ spell to be circumvented without breaking the rules.

“I wish I could afford to send her to school or at least have her tutored by a governess,” Susan lamented, “but times have been hard lately.”

Max scoffed under her breath. Because even when times were good, Susan barely spared a thought for her daughter.

“I have a solution if I may,” Steve said with a small smile. “Robin is nearing the end of her apprenticeship with me and about ready to take her test. I could take her on as an apprentice witch. She would learn everything she needed to know. Reading, writing, manners. Plus, I would pay for her room and board.”

Susan blinked at him for a moment as she weighed through all of the options.

Billy looked between Susan and Steve, his emotions warring on his face. Because on the one hand, it would make their life easier if she was with Steve. They would be able to recover financially faster if they didn’t have an extra mouth to feed. But on the other hand she would be training to be a witch and the thought of her having power frightened him.

“What do you want, Maxie?” Susan asked, thinking of her for the first time in a long time.

Max looked up at Steve and then over at her mother. She knew she would be better taken care of at Steve’s. “I can still visit Mom and Billy, right?”

Steve smiled at her. “Of course you can. Every day if you want.”

“Then it’s settled,” Susan said, “go pack your things while Billy and me get this cleaned up.”

Max nodded and dashed off to the room she shared with Billy. While she was doing that, Jim, Callahan, and Steve all helped Billy and Susan clean everything up. Then the two Watchmen took Neil’s body to be delivered to the mortuary where he would be prepared for burial.

Max hovered by the door to the bedroom, uncertain, so Steve held out his hand. “Come on, Max. It’s time to go home.”

She ran for his open hand and freedom for the first time in her life.

~

Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Tag List: CLOSED

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[forestdeath1]

Canon Sirius through quotes

Part 3. Harshness and toughness (and how Sirius Black differs from James Potter). It's long. Really long.

Sirius isn't a soft crybaby. His harshness (and even cruelty) goes beyond the silly teenage pranks we usually see in fanfiction. Sirius is often either whitewashed by newer fans or overly demonized by anti-Marauders fans. Sirius has a tough exterior but a heart of gold. He's not childish and had to grow up early, though he can still be quite fun.

‘Do you know, I still have trouble believing it,’ said Madam Rosmerta thoughtfully. ‘Of all the people to go over to the Dark side, Sirius Black was the last I’d have thought ... .’

"Of all the people to go over to the Dark side, Sirius Black was the last I’d have thought" – this shouldn't be taken literally. Rosmerta saw many others regularly, Dumbledore, Lily, Remus, and many others, and out of all of them, Sirius Black was the last who could turn to the Dark side? Seriously? Did Sirius walk around with a halo and angel wings?

One trait that is always emphasized in his appearance is his haughty, bored look.

Rosmerta speaks metaphorically, not literally. She saw Sirius once a month or two when they went out to Hogsmeade to have fun and drink. In those moments, Sirius was lively, funny and noisy (especially lively after running away from home), and perhaps he even flirted with Rosmerta in a childish manner, melting the heart of the adult woman.

Sirius can be funny, although his humor is always edging towards dark:

"Imagine wasting your time and energy persecuting merpeople when there are little toerags like Kreacher on the loose.’ 

Ron laughed but Hermione looked upset. 

‘Sirius!’ she said reproachfully. ‘Honestly, if you made a bit of an effort with Kreacher, I’m sure he’d respond. After all, you are the only member of his family he’s got left, and Professor Dumbledore said –’ 

‘So, what are Umbridge’s lessons like?’ Sirius interrupted. ‘Is she training you all to kill half-breeds?’

Moreover, he interrupts Hermione, not letting her finish her point. He sharply outlines if he doesn't want to listen.

"the stuffed elf-heads on the hall wall wore Father Christmas hats and beards"

Dark humor.

‘Kreacher is cleaning,’ the elf repeated. ‘Kreacher lives to serve the Noble House of Black –’ 

‘And it’s getting blacker every day, it’s filthy,’ said Sirius.

Here he responds with a clear "Black" shade. His mother also loved to talk about filth.

‘Sirius – it’s me ... it’s Peter ... your friend ... you wouldn’t ...’ Black kicked out and Pettigrew recoiled. ‘There’s enough filth on my robes without you touching them,’ said Black.

And again. And here’s his mother:

‘Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers –’ 

‘Stains of dishonour, filthy half-breeds, blood traitors, children of filth ...’

Sirius desperately wants to be unlike the Blacks, but he is still Sirius Black.

‘I thought it was the perfect plan ... a bluff ... Voldemort would be sure to come after me, would never dream they’d use a weak, talentless thing like you ... it must have been the finest moment of your miserable life, telling Voldemort you could hand him the Potters.’

Sirius's humor isn't the only harsh thing about him. Even though here he has a reason – after Azkaban he met James's traitor – his way of speaking reflects his overall personality. The way one speaks is a mirror of personality, even if Sirius has PTSD, it only exposes even more vividly what he might control in a calm state.

‘Nasty temper he’s got, that Sirius Black.’ (Peeves)

At the same time, yes, he can be cheerful and infect everyone around him with his cheerfulness. If he's in a sombre mood, he creates a quite oppressive atmosphere around him that everyone feels. Just as with a good mood – everyone feels it.

Harry could not remember Sirius ever being in such a good mood; he was actually singing carols, apparently delighted that he was to have company over Christmas. 

-

Sirius tramping past their door towards Buckbeak’s room, singing ‘God Rest Ye, Merry Hippogriffs’ at the top of his voice. 

-

Sirius’s delight at having the house full again, and especially at having Harry back, was infectious. He was no longer their sullen host of the summer; now he seemed determined that everyone should enjoy themselves as much, if not more than they would have done at Hogwarts, and he worked tirelessly in the run-up to Christmas Day, cleaning and decorating with their help.

But the ability to be cheerful is in no way connected to being very harshn at the same time. This is precisely the case with Sirius.

Of all the Marauders, only Sirius is really harsh and can be truly dangerous (the author wrote about him, “The best-looking, most rebellious, most dangerous of the four marauders”). James was also a bully, but he's not harsh, despite the fact that it was he who pulled down Snape's trousers. Why? I think Sirius was already aware of what they were doing. James – not. Without awareness, it's too early to speak of any harshness and cruelty. Sirius had this awareness and still continued to do it.

Let's consider the reactions of Sirius and James in comparison.

‘Who wants to be in Slytherin? I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?’ 

Sirius did not smile. ‘My whole family have been in Slytherin,’ he said.

‘Blimey,’ said James, ‘and I thought you seemed all right!’ 

Sirius grinned. ‘Maybe I’ll break the tradition. Where are you heading, if you’ve got the choice?’

A small note: Sirius didn't even react to James's "I'd leave", even though he knew his whole family was from Slytherin, and he was likely to go there too.

James lifted an invisible sword. ‘“Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!” Like my dad.’ Snape made a small, disparaging noise. James turned on him.

‘Got a problem with that?’ ‘No,’ said Snape, though his slight sneer said otherwise. ‘If you’d rather be brawny than brainy –’

It was Snape who starts the confrontation on a personal level. James in his insults in this memory refers to moral qualities. "Who wants to be in Slytherin?" Only bad people. He is prejudiced against Slytherin because Slytherin is evil. Voldemort is gaining momentum. The first Muggle-born Minister was recently ousted. Attacks are happening here and there. Dark forces are growing. More and more of the pure-blood society talks about "Mudbloods" not belonging in this world. And "amazingly", they all turn out to be from Slytherin. James sees himself as a noble knight "James lifted an invisible sword", and he is against Slytherin not so much personally as against the moral component of Slytherin.

‘Where’re you hoping to go, seeing as you’re neither?’ interjected Sirius.

James roared with laughter. Lily sat up, rather flushed, and looked from James to Sirius in dislike.

Sirius immediately strikes at Snape's personality. Sirius is sharp-tongued, self-assured, and likely accustomed to considering others below himself. He probably assessed James as his equal right away. Brave, cheerful, sincere.

'Come on, Severus, let's find another compartment.'

'Oooooo...'

James and Sirius imitated her lofty voice; James tried to trip Snape as he passed.

'See ya, Snivellus!' a voice called, as the compartment door slammed...

James tried to trip Snape. James most often uses physical/magical force. He trips Snape, he pulls down Snape's trousers, he uses most of the spells on Snape in SWM. But it's Sirius who goes after Snape's personality. It looks like James has concocted a "noble justification" for his behavior and attitude and punishes Snape for existing just as he is.

Sirius, on the other hand, hardly uses magical/physical force in memories; he finds painful points in Snape's personality – from character to appearance, intentionally demeaning his personal traits.

Moreover, it was Sirius who focused on Snape's appearance. No one, except him, places such an emphasis on Snape's unattractive appearance and his untidiness.

'Snape's always been fascinated by the Dark Arts, he was famous for it at school. Slimy, oily, greasy-haired kid, he was,'

Very vivid epithets. Sirius is very eloquent when it comes to demeaning someone he dislikes.

Moreover, it's James who's the attention seeker. It's James who plays with the snitch, drawing attention, glancing at the girls by the lake, and ruffling his hair to show everyone how cool, strong, brave, and awesome he is.

After five minutes of this, Harry wondered why James didn’t tell Wormtail to get a grip on himself, but James seemed to be enjoying the attention. Harry noticed that his father had a habit of rumpling up his hair as though to keep it from getting too tidy, and he also kept looking over at the girls by the water’s edge.

While Sirius, likely, isn't much interested in societal validation. Sirius is more reserved, with firmer boundaries, he's not as interested in public adoration as James might be.

Lupin had pulled out a book and was reading. Sirius stared around at the students milling over the grass, looking rather haughty and bored, but very handsomely so.

This is a typical expression for Sirius – bored and haughty. He spent nearly five full years in Gryffindor alongside James, and the bored and haughty expression is still with him. It's not just a random trait in his character – it's one of the pillars of his personality, reflecting his attitude towards random people around him.

‘Put that away, will you,’ said Sirius finally, as James made a fine catch and Wormtail let out a cheer, ‘before Wormtail wets himself with excitement.’

As I've said, Sirius cuts with his words without a knife. They've been studying together for five years, been friends with Peter, and he jokes about Peter like this. I think they all joked about each other in the same way, just James's "jokes" are blunt and probably he just says whatever comes to mind, whereas Sirius's are more subtle and hurtful.

Moreover, when people say this is the only episode we know of bullying by James and Sirius and that it's the worst in their history, that's not correct. This episode is the worst in Snape's life. And not because they pulled down his trousers. But because he lost Lily forever that day. This episode, likely, was quite typical for the Marauders. They were in a good mood, had finished exams, Snape just happened to pass by, there were no obvious reasons for this bullying. Harry sifted through their detention records, and there were many, very many, and how many more when they weren't caught?

Sirius got bored, and there they decided to "have some fun."

‘I’m bored,’ said Sirius. ‘Wish it was full moon.’ 

‘You might,’ said Lupin darkly from behind his book. ‘We’ve still got Transfiguration, if you’re bored you could test me. Here ...’ and he held out his book. 

But Sirius snorted. ‘I don’t need to look at that rubbish, I know it all.’

I won't discuss The Prank here, many have written about it. In general, Sirius doesn't show empathy in everyday interactions even with Remus. Sirius has a heart of gold, but his shell, especially as a teenager – tough, harsh, sharp, and cutting. The grown-up Sirius interacts with close people much more politely, though he still occasionally shows his harshness (for example, with Hermione).

‘This’ll liven you up, Padfoot,’ said James quietly. ‘Look who it is ...’ 

Sirius’s head turned. He became very still, like a dog that has scented a rabbit. 

‘Excellent,’ he said softly. ‘Snivellus.’

I don't want to justify Sirius and James, but for context – Snape is fascinated by the Dark Arts, hangs out with future Death Eaters (= fascist), and they have mutual dislike from the first year. No, the act is immature, but James justifies it in his head exactly like this – Snape is bad for him, so anything goes, and anyway, "so what?" Sirius doesn't need justifications. He's just bored.

Even when James uses all the spells on Snape, he still glances at the lake:

Snape lay panting on the ground. James and Sirius advanced on him, wands raised, James glancing over his shoulder at the girls at the water’s edge as he went. Wormtail was on his feet now, watching hungrily, edging around Lupin to get a clearer view.

Why look at the girls by the lake when you're humiliating someone, if you know you're doing something really bad? James genuinely sees himself as a noble knight, deserving of admiration. Moreover, many do admire him (''Students all around had turned to watch. Some of them had got to their feet and were edging nearer. Some looked apprehensive, others entertained. Several people watching laughed''), and Lupin mentioned several times that James was popular at school.

‘How’d the exam go, Snivelly?’ said James. 

‘I was watching him, his nose was touching the parchment,’ said Sirius viciously. ‘There’ll be great grease marks all over it, they won’t be able to read a word.’ 

Again, Sirius harshly targets Snape's personal traits, including his appearance.

‘You – wait,’ he panted, staring up at James with an expression of purest loathing, ‘you – wait!’ 

‘Wait for what?’ said Sirius coolly. ‘What’re you going to do, Snivelly, wipe your nose on us?’ 

And again – Sirius strikes with words.

Snape let out a stream of mixed swear words and hexes, but with his wand ten feet away nothing happened.

‘Wash out your mouth,’ said James coldly. ‘Scourgify!’

And James responds with a spell to what? Snape's insults. He says ‘Wash out your mouth.’ He appeals to the moral side of the issue.

‘I don’t need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!’

‘Apologise to Evans!’ James roared at Snape, his wand pointed  threateningly at him. ‘I don’t want you to make him apologise,’ Lily shouted, rounding on James. ‘You’re as bad as he is.’ ‘What?’ yelped James. ‘I’d NEVER call you a – you-know-what!’

This also proves that James is sure he's doing everything right. James is like a volunteer in the allies' army against the fascists, a brave Gryffindor, and his sword is to cast spells on anyone he deems not fitting his moral standards.

‘Messing up your hair because you think it looks cool to look like you’ve just got off your broomstick, showing off with that stupid Snitch, walking down corridors and hexing anyone who annoys you just because you can – I’m surprised your broomstick can get off the ground with that fat head on it. You make me SICK.’

And from the outside, it looked like this.

‘What is it with her?’ said James, trying and failing to look as though this was a throwaway question of no real importance to him. 

‘Reading between the lines, I’d say she thinks you’re a bit conceited, mate,’ said Sirius.

And Sirius understands it all too well. Who he is, who James is, and what Lily thinks about it all. Sirius knows about James's crush on Lily and finds it even funny that she rejects him. Likely because Sirius understands that they often cross the line. I don’t think Sirius could have stopped Potter. I don't even think Sirius wanted to stop Potter. He found it all funny. Azkaban, on the other hand, softened Sirius in his interactions with others. It knocked down his pride and arrogance. Showed him that life can be unfair and you don't need to act like a haughty jerk who thinks the world revolves around them.

At school, Sirius was more about psychological bullying, while James was about the physical. Given that James and Sirius were very popular at school and within their house, their bullying was likely directed mostly at Slytherins or at arrogant jerks like themselves who they just "didn't like."

And the adult Sirius understands that they were “arrogant little berks.” And he’s “not proud of it,” but his next words speak for themselves:

“ I think James was everything Snape wanted to be – he was popular, he was good at Quidditch – good at pretty much everything. And Snape was just this little oddball who was up to his eyes in the Dark Arts, and James – whatever else he may have appeared to you, Harry – always hated the Dark Arts.”

Sirius justifies James while simultaneously praising him. Justifications always imply a partial denial of guilt. Someone fully aware of their guilt doesn’t seek to justify or be justified. Of course, Sirius said this for Harry's sake too. To ensure Harry didn’t think his father was just a bully for no reason. His father was actually “on the side of good,” is what Sirius wants to convey. About himself, he remains silent. But he doesn't miss the chance to insult Snape again “little oddball.”

Even Remus, as an adult, sincerely justifies James.

‘She started going out with him in seventh year,’ said Lupin. 

‘Once James had deflated his head a bit,’ said Sirius. ‘And stopped hexing people just for the fun of it,’ said Lupin.

 ‘Even Snape?’ said Harry. ‘Well,’ said Lupin slowly, ‘Snape was a special case. I mean, he never lost an opportunity to curse James so you couldn’t really expect James to take that lying down, could you?’ 

‘And my mum was OK with that?’ 

‘She didn’t know too much about it, to tell you the truth,’ said Sirius. ‘I mean, James didn’t take Snape on dates with her and jinx him in front of her, did he?’

Lupin finds a genuine justification for James. The concept of “violence in any form is bad” isn’t fully grasped by them. They follow an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Lupin even was ready to kill Peter, and he insisted that war is not a playground and that killing is sometimes necessary in war. Remus, though gentler and kinder, and preferring not to engage in conflict, genuinely wished Sirius and James hadn't bullied anyone at school, but yet, he still reconciles with all they do and even justifies James.

In Sirius's mind, James may have acted like a fool, but Sirius doesn’t genuinely condemn it. He just thinks they were too arrogant. And Sirius’s behavior after Azkaban (how he became gentler with others) indicates he truly realized – you don't need to belittle everyone you dislike or even like. Yet, Sirius’s harshness, even after Azkaban, didn’t disappear; it was just redirected towards what he genuinely hates.

‘Professor Snape was at school with us. He fought very hard against my appointment to the Defence Against the Dark Arts job. He has been telling Dumbledore all year that I am not to be trusted. He has his reasons ... you see, Sirius here played a trick on him which nearly killed him, a trick which involved me –’ 

Black made a derisive noise. 

‘It served him right,’ he sneered. ‘Sneaking around, trying to find out what we were up to ... hoping he could get us expelled ...’

Remus's reactions are much softer, but Sirius’s reaction, even years later, is harsh and even a bit cruel. ‘It served him right.’ Because it's an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.

However, Sirius’s harshness still occasionally breaks through even towards his close ones when he slightly loses control over himself after Azkaban.

‘You’re less like your father than I thought,’ he said finally, a definite coolness in his voice. ‘The risk would’ve been what made it fun for James.’ 

‘Well, I’d better get going, I can hear Kreacher coming down the stairs,’ said Sirius, but Harry was sure he was lying. ‘I’ll write to tell you a time I can make it back into the fire, then, shall I? If you can stand to risk it?’

Sirius calls themselves “arrogant little berks,” but the peculiarity of Sirius’s arrogance is that it's due to his personal qualities, not external “glamour”.

 ‘I, a spy for Voldemort? When did I ever sneak around people who were stronger and more powerful than myself? But you, Peter – I’ll never understand why I didn’t see you were the spy from the start. You always liked big friends who’d look after you, didn’t you?’

He despises Peter for groveling, for weakness, for the same reasons he despises Regulus, considering him a soft idiot. Sirius’s arrogance was never built on finances or blood purity, on popularity, on playing Quidditch, not on his name, although the family dynamics undoubtedly influenced his pride. But overall, his arrogance is of a different level – that of a rebellious spirit, a very strong person, not like the Malfoys. Lucius Malfoy is intentionally depicted as the complete opposite of Sirius Black (in character – the most rebellious of their pure-blood circle and the most sycophantic, and in appearance – black and white).

Sirius and Kreacher's story demonstrates that Sirius does not forgive those he hated and can carry hatred through the years. People usually soften over time, but Sirius has an excuse – Azkaban. Nonetheless, the behavioral pattern remains unchanged. Azkaban does not change the essence of people, it makes certain traits more vivid and pronounced. Sirius became calmer towards the people around him who help fight against evil, he toned down his arrogance and pride (even towards Snape, he no longer hurls insults first, it’s Snape who insults Sirius first), but Sirius became even harsher towards those he hates.

‘Sirius was horrible to Kreacher, Harry, and it’s no good looking like that, you know it’s true. I’ve said all along that wizards would pay for how they treat house-elves. Well, Voldemort did ... and so did Sirius.’

Harry had no retort. As he watched Kreacher sobbing on the floor, he remembered what Dumbledore had said to him, mere hours after Sirius’s death: I do not think Sirius ever saw Kreacher as a being with feelings as acute as a human’s ...

And he himself demonstrates this repeatedly:

At which Sirius, ignoring Hermione’s protests, seized Kreacher by the back of his loincloth and threw him bodily from the room.

Dumbledore believes Sirius showed cruelty to Kreacher through his indifference and neglect. That is, Sirius could shut off his empathy towards a being, despite generally being friendly towards house-elves.

‘He (Sirius) regarded him (Kreacher) as a servant unworthy of much interest or notice. Indifference and neglect often do much more damage than outright dislike… Sirius was not a cruel man, he was kind to house-elves in general. He had no love for Kreacher, because Kreacher was a living reminder of the home Sirius had hated.’

Sirius was not evil. But the neglect emanating from him was very cruel, harsh, and cold. Sirius can shut away all the good within him towards anyone he despised – “And whatever Kreacher’s faults, it must be admitted that Sirius did nothing to make Kreacher’s lot easier –”

‘– comes back from Azkaban ordering Kreacher around, oh, my poor mistress, what would she say if she saw the house now, scum living in it, her treasures thrown out, she swore he was no son of hers and he’s back, they say he’s a murderer too –’

‘Keep muttering and I will be a murderer!’ said Sirius irritably as he slammed the door shut on the elf.

However, Sirius likely never killed anyone, even while serving in the "Order."

Regarding his family and even Regulus, Sirius is also harsh. Even if he, like any child, deep down loved his family, it doesn’t matter because his real words and actions are very harsh and aimed at severing ties. The possible love for them deep down only further highlights his harshness and readiness for confrontation.

“I hated the whole lot of them: my parents, with their pure-blood mania, convinced that to be a Black made you practically royal ... my idiot brother, soft enough to believe them”

Likely, he’s ashamed of them, and his hatred also builds a wall between them and himself.

‘Does it matter if she’s my cousin?’ snapped Sirius. ‘As far as I’m concerned, they’re not my family. She’s certainly not my family. I haven’t seen her since I was your age, unless you count a glimpse of her coming into Azkaban. D’you think I’m proud of having a relative like her?’

And at the same time Dumbledore about James:

‘I knew your father very well, both at Hogwarts and later, Harry,’ he said gently. ‘He would have saved Pettigrew too, I am sure of it.’

I don’t know how true this is (though likely, the author speaks through Dumbledore here), but considering that Harry himself is a character whose main traits include the ability to understand and forgive others, perhaps James had this to some extent too. But Sirius lacks the ability to forgive, and this is deliberately shown in the book – that he suffered precisely because of his excessive harshness.

In conclusion, Sirius's harshness and toughness is not just teenage arrogance; it's directly a trait of his personality, something that cannot be overlooked when talking about the canonical Sirius, not his sugar-coated substitute in fandom. Sirius had to grow up very early, and all this left its mark on him.

Of all the Marauders, only Sirius is really harsh and can be truly dangerous.

But Sirius was not cruel in a moral-ethical sense, or more precisely – ideologically. There's no reason to believe Sirius is constantly drawn to the dark side or that he's amoral. His constant fight against his family suggests instead that he formed high ideals within himself. No, Sirius is not amoral; he has difficulty with empathy (especially in childhood), a tendency towards aggression and cruelty (mostly in childhood, he controls himself quite well as an adult. Well, for Sirius Black quite well), arrogance, but he very well understands what is right and what is wrong.

‘She’s got the measure of Crouch better than you have, Ron. If you want to know what a man’s like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals.’

[sebastianswallows]

The Little Death — 17. The natural flow

— PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Bene Gesserit!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: A Bene Gesserit gets left behind in the Arrakeen palace. When Feyd becomes the Planetary Governor, he finds her there in hiding. The Harkonnens don't traditionally keep them as truthsayers or concubines like other Houses do, but Feyd might have a use for her. After all, he's never had a Bene Gesserit of his own before.

— WARNINGS: angst, smut

— WORDCOUNT: 2k

— TAGLIST: @elf-punk @lowlyloved @pomtherine @slytherins-heir @babyofneptune @localravenclaw @missbingu @wo-ming-bai @torossosebs @mrsjobarnes

In my estimation, more misery has been created by reformers than by any other force in human history. Show me someone who says, “Something must be done!” and I will show you a head full of vicious intentions that have no other outlet. What we must strive for always is to find the natural flow and go with it. — The Reverend Mother Taraza

Feyd tried to distract himself from her for the time being. Nights were spent in her arms, of course, which had become his favourite place to be and not one he planned to be bereft of soon, but he spent his days with the mentats and the generals of his troops, planning desert attacks. And the longer the talks went on, and the more he learned of Fremen movements and sightings of sietches out far away, the more pointless it all seemed, and the more time he spent with them trying to convince himself it was worthwhile.

And every night, like the wind chipping away at a mountainside’s rough edges, the meaninglessness of his efforts started to crawl across his mind, like her fingers caressing his scalp as he kissed the sweat off her neck and licked a cool path down her breasts until he could nurse at her puckered nipples. Their skin stuck together where his hips pressed into hers, and with his cock stuffed deep inside of her the rest of his body felt cold when compared to her body’s heat. It used to be that his nights much resembled his days, with violence in the arena and violence in bed, playing with slaves in the sand and playing with his darlings. Forgettable rounds around the Giedi Prime sun that bled into one another. But on Arrakis, his days were blindingly white, and his nights were languid and black, atop the silken sheets of their bed, buried in her arms.

She shivered beneath him every following morning, her smaller body coiled around him, sinking deeply into him in her own way. Her chin rested atop his head as he suckled at her breasts, and her thighs held him tightly, pressing his hips down against her. Even as they caught their breath and he fell to the side, she held him, and his arms stayed wrapped around her. Her fingers trembled a path around his mouth. Without opening his eyes, Feyd reached forward and kissed them, letting her index slip between his lips.

“Mmmm… What is it?” he asked when he heard her chuckle.

“I was just thinking,” she said softly, her voice sounding far away. “Wondering what your smile would look like if your teeth weren’t black…”

He peeked an eye open, unsure if he should feel offended.

“Much like yours, I guess.”

“I doubt that,” she said, but there was no meanness to it. Instead, she looked at him fondly, her head resting on its side, her cheek pressing her messy hair into the pillow.

He leaned forward and kissed her, too afraid to hear her praising him for all the things he wasn’t. She took his kiss with a little moan and wrapped her arms around his neck again, pulling him closer and drowning all his senses, like a restless sea. On pure instinct, he rolled on top of her again and started thrusting gently. She was still a little swollen from before, but he’d never left her body, and making love to her when she was soft and plush and aching came quite naturally to him. Feyd moved slowly, and stayed pressed deep for a few heartbeats before thrusting out, and he snaked one hand between them to toy with her feverish clit. He only had to flick it once for her back to arch. It made him smile with pride at how well he knew her body.

“Feyd,” she moaned, her head tilted back, neck exposed just right for him to kiss. He pressed his lips to the soft skin there and felt her murmur. “I want to see you… in so many ways…”

He wrapped his free arm around her waist and pulled her more sharply against him as he pressed his cock into her all the way up to the hilt. Her folds caressed his base and her cervix kissed his tip, her channel lazily suckling on him as he rested his length inside her. It was dizzying and calming all at once, and what she’d said rang in his ears like the echoes of an ocean.

“What ways are those, my love?” he asked, moving his kisses down her neck until he reached her clavicles. He grinned and nibbled playfully on a thin stretch of bone.

“Asleep, and awake,” she sighed, her nails scraping down his shoulders in a comforting way. “And carefree all the time… Richer, and poorer. I want to see you walking with your bare feet on the ground. I want to see you swimming one day, too…”

Feyd growled a little, feeling quite at odds. He’d always enjoyed being looked at, and especially liked being looked at by her, but she was describing him in all the states he couldn’t be. He couldn’t go walking with her outside, not without his armour or a stillsuit. He couldn’t go swimming with her, not for all Harkonnen wealth, and the last time he was carefree was…

“Yes,” she sighed, and he could tell that she was smiling. Her head sank comfortably into the pillows as her body pulled him close, his cock nestled comfortably in her core, their legs tangled, their hearts close. “That’s what I want.”

“Impossible woman,” he mumbled, raising his face from her neck. He could still taste her body, her cinnamon-sweet scent lingering in his lungs. “Why can’t you just be happy with what you have?”

“Because I want you to be happier,” she said, looking up at him with a mix of pity and serenity that he just about abhored.

“Well, this is what you have,” he hissed, baring his black teeth. “If you were smart, you’d want happiness for yourself instead.”

She chuckled bitterly and slowly moved away, turning to her side to breathe the dry air away from the heat of his body.

Feyd watched her. The slow rising of her shoulders, the messy tangle of her hair trailing behind her, the soft yellowing bruises where he’d grabbed her the night before… He certainly felt angry, and he knew it was because of her, but for some reason, he couldn’t even tighten his hands into fists. His muscles were loose, and not entirely in a pleasant way. With a sigh, he rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling as threads of light streaked across it. He could almost smell the sweat that lingered on the bed start to evaporate from the coming morning heat, and inwardly his stomach tightened at the prospect of another sweltry day.

He thought, as he got dressed in his armour and sheathed his daggers, that those feelings would go away throughout the coming hours. They didn’t go away at breakfast, although she sat closer to him than she usually did and seemed more soft, more fond of him somehow. Neither did his mentats make any difference, nor the troops that needed his attention. The plans for Arrakis’ conquest seemed now just a string of troubles in a never-ending thread. Reports came in of a successful strike on a minor sietch, and although the mentats reacted with reserved glee, their cheering quieted completely when they saw the planetary governor not reacting much.

“Gather all the intelligence you can find in the rubble,” said Feyd. “Anything to indicate the nearest settlement. Then torch the place.”

He ordered extra spice on his dinner that night, but this time it wasn’t for her, it was for himself.

It used to calm him down, make him feel more secure in himself, his choices, his future. But perhaps the spice on this planet was too raw, too unrefined compared to what they were getting on Giedi Prime, because all it gave him were unsettling visions and the feeling that everything he did was wrong. That he was in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and none of his choices could lead him to anything but death. ‘I don’t want to die,’ Feyd thought to himself. ‘I want to live. Forever.’

And as he thought it, he felt her hand covering his, having crawled the short distance across the sheets as they lay down together. The sun was just a shade across the sky and the twin moons cast their pale light over the sands, making them look black, an angry sea frozen in place.

He wanted to make love to her again that night, but couldn’t. Even as he wrapped his arms around her, and covered her body with his, and felt her skin and his sticking together, he could do nothing more than nuzzle his face into her chest and curl his legs up uselessly. She cupped his elbow and smiled, and ran the tip of a finger across his scalp in a pattern that made no sense — or perhaps it did, in her witchy ways, and he was just too ignorant to know it.

She’d grown quieter since he began increasing her dose of spice, and all that vain outrage from before had gone away. She held him like a mother, like a lover, like a tomb that had waited for him since forever.

“Our attacks are being more successful,” he said, retreating into the safe conversation of troop movements. At least that was an area where he felt in control. “They’re yielding more information too.”

“And what do they say?” she quietly asked.

“Everything points south,” said Feyd. “With a great cutoff at the hemisphere.”

“How so?”

“The storms.”

“Why would the Fremen do that?” she said, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. “Move so far away from the ice caps where they could harvest the most water…”

“Why knows why they do anything,” he sighed.

“Why would they build more settlements around the most dangerous area of the planet?” she asked further, pressing the issue. It dug into his temples. “Why not expand north?”

“Who can say? Less territory, less spice…”

“More sandstorms. Fewer worms.”

“Yeah, maybe they don’t like that,” he grumbled, then tightened his arms around her. “Who can understand these savages, anyway?”

Her fingers started swirling around the top of his head, cold sharp fingernails with gentle motions, her breast hot and soft beneath his cheek, the curl of a smile in her voice.

“Maybe they like it more than they pretend,” she said.

Feyd knew where she was going with this. It was an idea that had begun to haunt him as well. To consolidate his men further up in the northern hemisphere was a safe option, on the face of it. The troops would certainly be happier on rocks, away from worms, among the lazy buzzing of spice harvesters. Why, it would be almost as good as civilisation itself. But it was dangerous in ways he didn’t even dare speak aloud.

“If my uncle catches wind of such a plan —”

“He has no one to replace you with,” she said, pressing her lips against his head, consoling him. Chasing away his fear of death.

“That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t do anything,” groaned Feyd.

“If you —”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” he said, rolling on top of her for good measure, his arms caging her against the bed.

Her plump, dry lips were closed, but he could see in her eyes what she was going to say next. In her mind, and in his mind, she was still saying it. He kissed her to make her close her eyes, and that was good enough.

He made love to her quickly that night, as if afraid or fearful, ready to escape at any time. Her breaths were sharp and whispered when he thrust inside, and she came faster than she ever had, her body closing up around him, trapping him inside. Even with kissing and licking her sweat, and the lazy pulsing of his cum deep in her cunt, it hardly lasted twenty minutes, and then he fell beside her, panting, aching, his skin overly hot. He was starting to feel more of her lately, so much more… Like her every cell was singing, and each one of his could hear. Her heat sank into him and drove him crazy, and sometimes it felt as if her thoughts did too — like earlier that night, when they conspired so secretly they didn’t dare use words, children hiding in the covers in the dead of night.

[brainddeadd]

Lights, Chaos, Action: The New Jersey Devils Christmas Movie Marathon

The team house was glowing with Christmas lights, the scent of hot chocolate filling the air. You were sprawled on the massive sectional couch, surrounded by blankets, pillows, and—of course—the boys of the New Jersey Devils. The plan for the evening? A Christmas movie marathon. What you didn’t plan for? Absolute chaos.

“Okay, ground rules,” Nico announces, standing at the front like a stern teacher, hands on his hips. “No fighting, no throwing popcorn, and no changing the movie once it starts.”

“You’re no fun,” Jack mutters under his breath, earning a warning glare from Nico.

“Hey, at least let me finish talking before you start causing trouble,” Nico shoots back, exasperated already.

Luke grins mischievously from where he’s lounging next to you. “It’s not fun if there aren’t at least some fights.”

Dawson leans over, nudging you with his shoulder. “How much you wanna bet Jack starts something within the first ten minutes?”

You laugh softly. “I’m not betting. It’s inevitable.”

The marathon kicks off with a classic: Home Alone. Everyone agrees on this one—at least initially.

Within fifteen minutes, Jack is reenacting every single trap Kevin sets. “Look, Y/N, if anyone breaks into our house, I’ve got this covered,” he says, elbowing you while gesturing wildly at the screen.

“Yeah, because that’s definitely a real threat,” you respond dryly, tossing a handful of popcorn at him.

“Hey!” Jack catches the popcorn mid-air, throwing it right back at you with a grin. “You started it!”

Nico groans. “I said no throwing food.”

Dawson snickers. “Technically, she threw it first.”

“Thank you, Mercer,” Jack says, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

By the time Elf starts, things have already begun to unravel. Luke is sprawled across half the couch with his feet on your lap, munching loudly on gingerbread cookies. Jack and Dawson are whispering about something suspicious, exchanging glances that spell trouble.

Nico, ever the responsible one, keeps glancing over at you, making sure you aren’t too overwhelmed by the boys' antics. You’re the youngest on the team, and no matter how tough you are on the ice, they always make it their mission to look out for you off the ice too.

“You good?” Nico asks quietly, leaning closer so only you can hear.

You smile at him. “I’m good, Captain.”

Nico gives you a small, approving nod. “Let me know if they get too annoying.”

“What do you mean if?” you tease, nudging him lightly.

Things really start to fall apart during The Grinch. Jack, who has consumed way too much sugar by this point, starts doing his best Jim Carrey impression. “I’m a psycho!” he declares dramatically, standing on the couch with a wicked grin.

“Get down, Jack,” Nico orders, rubbing his temples.

“I’m the Grinch, I don’t listen to rules!” Jack retorts, jumping from the couch onto Luke, who yells in protest.

“Jack, you idiot!” Luke shouts, shoving his brother off of him and into a pile of pillows.

You double over laughing as Dawson grabs his phone to film the chaos. “This is going on Instagram,” Dawson cackles, dodging the pillows Jack starts hurling at him.

“Give me that!” Jack lunges for the phone, but Nico intercepts, shoving Jack back onto the couch. “Enough!”

Nico’s stern captain voice shuts everyone up—at least for a second.

You manage to regain some semblance of order by the time A Christmas Story starts, mostly because everyone is stuffed with cookies and hot chocolate and too tired to cause much more trouble. Luke’s head is resting on your shoulder now, his eyelids drooping as he slowly drifts off.

“See? This is nice,” Nico says, giving you a small smile from his spot at the other end of the couch.

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” you whisper back, glancing at Jack, who’s still wide awake and twitching like he’s got some grand plan forming in his brain.

Dawson catches your look and smirks. “He’s definitely up to something.”

The marathon ends with Die Hard—because, of course, the boys insisted it’s a Christmas movie. Jack practically begged for it, and you were too tired to argue.

Halfway through, Jack nudges you with a grin. “I told you this counts as a Christmas movie.”

You roll your eyes, though you can’t help but smile. “Whatever you say, Hughes.”

By the time the movie ends, Luke is fast asleep, snoring lightly on your shoulder. Jack and Dawson are half-asleep too, and even Nico looks like he’s fighting to keep his eyes open.

“Alright, that’s enough chaos for one night,” Nico says with a yawn, standing up and stretching. “Everyone, go to bed.”

Jack grumbles but doesn’t argue, dragging himself off the couch with Dawson close behind. Luke stays put, his head still on your shoulder, clearly not planning to move anytime soon.

Nico chuckles softly. “You need help with him?”

You shake your head, brushing Luke’s messy curls out of his face. “Nah, he’s fine here.”

Nico gives you one last warm smile before heading upstairs. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Night, Nico.”

As the house finally falls into peaceful silence, you let out a content sigh. Sure, the night was absolute chaos—but with these boys, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[white-wolf-buckaroo]

Chapter 3: She has her father's eyes

Olivia has lived at the orphanage as long as she can remember, but her life changes when she meets a little girl named Sara, with whom she's connected with in a way she would've never imagined. In other words, what if Sirius had a daughter he never knew of? What if he meets her during the events of the Order of the Phoenix?

Word count: 6000 ish oops

Story masterlist here!

As we ascended the narrow staircase, the old wooden steps creaking underfoot.

Molly, ever the attentive guide, glanced back at us with a warm smile. "Don’t mind the creaks. This house has been in the Black family for generations. It’s seen better days, but we’re making it a home again, bit by bit. If you meet the house elf, Kreacher, don’t mind him. He’s just… Not very fond of outsiders"

I couldn’t shake the feeling of Sirius's eyes on me and Sara. His reaction had been so intense, so full of shock and disbelief, that it made my skin tingle. I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Why had he looked at us like that?

Molly’s voice broke through my thoughts as she opened a door on the second landing. “Here we are, dears. It’s not much, but I’ve put fresh linens on the beds for you, and you’ve got a little space for your things.”

The room she led us into was small but tidy, with two twin beds on either side of the window. The walls were adorned with dark green wallpaper, faded from age after years and years there, and a single wardrobe stood against one wall. A large mirror, slightly tarnished, hung crookedly above a small dresser. It wasn’t luxurious, and not really welcoming because of the cold color palette, but it was certainly more than enough.

“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley,” I said, setting down my bag. “This is perfect.”

Molly beamed. “You’re welcome, Olivia, and please, call me Molly.” She turned to Sara, who was eyeing the room nervously. “And if either of you need anything, don’t hesitate to come down and ask. There’s plenty of food and tea if you get hungry later, and we’ll have dinner all together in the evening.”

Sara gave her a small nod, still clutching her stuffed dog. I smiled at the woman, grateful "Thank you... Molly."

Molly smiled warmly at her and then, with a final encouraging nod, headed for the door. “I’ll leave you to get settled, then. I’ll be downstairs if you need me. Try to get some rest”

As soon as she left, the room fell into a quiet stillness. I sat down on the edge of my bed, staring out the small, slightly grimy window. Sara hesitated, then sat on the bed across from me, her eyes still wide admiring every new detail around her.

She was only four years old, and yet, I sensed she seemed to be adapting a whole lot better than I was. Then again, she had already known about magic through her mother, so the wizarding world wasn’t something unfamiliar to her.

“Are you alright?” I asked her, coming to sit down at her side.

She nodded, as ever clutching her stuffed animal to her chest, looking around wide-eyed and then back to me.

“They are all witches and wizards, right?” I guessed she was asking about the Weasleys, and the other new people we had met minutes ago down in the kitchen, so I nodded “Do you think… Do you think that they knew my mommy?”

It was a tough question, really, but I sensed I knew the answer.

“I think they did,” I said softly, though my mind was spinning with the implications. It was the way they all looked at us… especially some of them. Like we weren’t complete strangers. "They must have all known each other from before—during their school time maybe. Remember what Dumbledore told us? Your mommy and my mother were sisters.”

“And you and I are cousins” she smiled at that, at me, and hugged my side.

“That we are,” I returned the hug, seeing her yawn a few seconds later “You tired?” she nodded softly, and I stood up, helping her set the covers of her new bed back “Come on then, bug. Get some sleep”

It had been a long day already, with a lot of new information. Apparition had also taken a lot out of us—it wasn’t a feeling I was used to yet, and after the long journey, the tension of arriving at Grimmauld Place, I felt like I could sleep for days.

I stood up to again to draw the curtains, darkening the room. Within minutes, the room was filled with the soft sound of Sara’s breathing, deep in her sleep. I crawled into my own bed, the covers heavy and comforting, and despite the swirling questions in my head, exhaustion pulled me under.

I didn’t have any nightmares, but I saw myself, or rather, a woman who looked like myself. She was talking to me, smiling softly. But there was also sadness in her look. She said something, but I couldn’t hear her despite how hard I tried to. Only when I was waking up, I recognized a word she was saying: Olivia.

I woke to the smell of something cooking—garlic, maybe onions, mingling with the scent of roasted meat. It was comforting. The room was dim, the last light of the day filtering through the gaps in the curtains. I turned to see Sara standing at my bedside, holding her dog in one arm, and waving at me with the other hand.

“Liv, I’m hungry, but I… Don’t want to go down alone” she whispered, rather loud. I smiled sleepily at her, nodding, as I made my way out of the bed. If I was four years old, I wouldn’t have wanted to wander around that dark old house by myself as well. Still at fifteen I didn’t feel too comfortable with the thought of doing so myself.

With a quick peak out of the curtains we could see that the sun was almost gone for the day; the street outside was deserted, just as when we had arrived a few hours ago, and the streetlamps were on now, casting a warm glow on the pathway.

“We should unpack before going downstairs,” I said, looking at our bags on the floor by the beds. We hadn’t got much, so It would be quick to put our clothes away in the drawers before heading down “Then we will go have dinner, I promise.”

There was a knock on our door just as I was putting away my last pair of socks. The door opened slowly, and Mrs. Weasley peaked inside, smiling upon seeing us awake.

“Dinner’s ready, girls” she nodded approvingly when she saw we had already taken care of emptying Sara’s suitcase and my bag “Oh, how tidy you girls are! Not like my boys," Molly added with a mock sigh, shaking her head fondly. "If I don’t tell them to put their things away, it’ll be weeks before they do, if they even do so. You two are a breath of fresh air, I’ll tell you that. You’ll meet them soon enough—they’ll be here next week. Then the house will be much noisier, I promise you."

I smiled, finishing up folding my last shirt and placing it neatly in the drawer. "I’m sure it’ll be nice to meet them."

Sara, standing by the door, hugged her stuffed dog closer to her chest. "Are they nice?"

Molly chuckled warmly, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Oh, they’re a handful, but yes, dear, they’re very nice. Fred and George, especially—they’re the twins—are always up to some mischief, but they’ve got good hearts. And Ron, my youngest boy, he’s around your age, Olivia. He’ll be pleased to meet you. As well as Ginny, my girl, she’s a year younger than you, but I’m sure you’ll all get along just right."

Sara nodded, her eyes brightening a little at the thought of meeting more people. The nervousness from earlier seemed to fade slightly.

“Well,” Molly continued, clapping her hands together gently. “Why don’t we head down to dinner before it gets cold? I’ve made a roast, and there’s plenty of vegetables too. Dumbledore and the others are already in the kitchen.”

Sara tugged on my sleeve, looking up at me expectantly. “Let’s go, Liv! I’m starving!” she said, her stomach giving a little rumble as if to emphasize her words. I couldn’t help but grin at her excitement.

"Alright, bug." I said, ruffling her hair as we followed Molly out of the room and down the narrow staircase.

As we descended, the scent of the food grew stronger, and my own stomach gave a low growl. Sara giggled beside me, and I shook my head with a smile. Even though we were in a strange place, there was something comforting about it—the smell of dinner, the warmth of Molly’s presence, and the thought of sharing a meal with people who seemed to care, even if we had only just met them.

We arrived at the kitchen to find Dumbledore, Remus, and Sirius already seated at the long wooden table, talking amongst themselves, although they stopped to greet us once we arrived. Sirius glanced up briefly when we entered the kitchen, his expression unreadable but his eyes lingering on Sara and me just a moment longer than I was comfortable with.

Molly ushered us to sit at the table, sitting us between Tonks and Remus, placing plates in front of us with generous portions of food. “Eat up, girls, you’ll need your strength,” she said with a wink before taking her own seat.

The clatter of cutlery and the soft hum of conversation filled the room as we began to eat. It was peaceful for a while, the tension from earlier not as noticeable, but I could still feel the weight of Sirius’s gaze on me from time to time. I didn’t look up, choosing instead to focus on Sara, who was happily munching on her food, her stuffed dog resting on the chair beside her.

“The food is delicious, Mrs. Weasley.”

“Thank you, dear. It’s nice to get some appreciation from time to time,” she glanced around the room, especially towards her husband, Moody, Remus and Sirius, and a second later they were all nodding with their heads, murmuring about how good their meals were “And I’ve already told you, you can call me Molly.”

“Have you both slept well?” asked her husband, Arthur.

“Oh, yeah,” I glanced at the girl beside me, seeing her nod as well, munching on some broccoli. She smiley shyly when she got caught with her mouth full “The sleep was very much needed after… Well, the journey.”

“You’ll adapt soon,” Tonks sipped on her glass before speaking up again “You’ll feel at home in no time.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I had never really felt at home nowhere before, so I wouldn’t really know what it was like.

When Remus, to my left, stood up to get himself more to drink, I caught Sirius’ gaze on me again. He had been silently sitting in front of Remus during the dinner, both of them on Dumbledore’s sides, at the end of the table. His grey eyes were full of intensity, yet, soft. Nostalgic, even.

“I apologize for not introducing myself properly earlier when we first met” his voice was tight, measured. He was holding back layers of emotions underneath, controlling himself the best he could, but I wouldn’t know that “I’m Sirius. Sirius Black. It’s a pleasure to have you both here”

“Thank you for having us,” I smiled politely. I recalled Mrs. Weasley’s words from earlier when she first took us to our room, about the house belonging to the Black family “So… This is your house, then?”

“It was my parents’ house,” He clarified quickly. It seemed like he wanted to make sure he had no association with the house, not as the owner, at least “I offered it as headquarters for the order.”

I hummed in acknowledgement, taking another few bites from my plate, not really knowing what to say next. I wasn’t really good at small talk. Sirius’ gaze remained on us, still, even when Remus came back to his seat.

“Sirius,” he warned him, sternly, as if wanting to say ‘stop looking at them like that’.

“I’m sorry,” the man grimaced, and the nostalgia in his eyes turned to longing and sadness “It’s just that… You both resemble your mothers in an astounding way.”

“You knew my mommy?”

Everyone turned to look at Sara, who seemed excited at the prospect that all these wizards and witches could have in fact, known her mother. She had seemed to start getting tired again the last few minutes after finishing her dinner, but now she was bright and up back again.

Sirius hesitated for a moment, his expression softening even further as he glanced at the girl. His gaze lingered on her, and I could see a flicker of something in his eyes—almost as if he was transported back in time. His voice, when he spoke again, was quieter, laced with a kind of reverence that I hadn’t expected.

“Yes,” he said softly, addressing her question. “Adler.” it seemed as if saying her name out lout was taking a toll on him. I watched him as he stayed quiet for a few seconds. “She was… To say she was wonderful would be an understatement.”

Sara’s face lit up, her small hands gripping her stuffed dog tighter. She smiled at Sirius, and he returned it with a smile of his own. I could’ve sworn he was starting to tear up.

“Did you…” I wasn’t sure if I wanted to ask my question, but I had already started talking, so I might’ve as well finished it “My mother. Albus told me she was Adler’s sister. Did you… Know her as well?”

Sirius nodded, switching his gaze back to me. It wasn’t him, though, who spoke up. It was Remus:

“She was… A good friend, in the past,” his tone was nostalgic, just as his and Sirius’ gazes. “We met her back in Hogwarts. She was two years younger than Adler, still, they were inseparable.” He smiled, humming to himself “It is true, what Sirius said. You both look exactly like them.”

Albus had told me that I looked like my mother. Now Sirius and Remus were doing the same. It was a bittersweet feeling, knowing that I resembled her so much and yet, not remembering her.

I felt a tug on my arm, and I looked at Sara, who was pressing her head against her stuffed dog with sleepy eyes. All the emotions of the evening had caught up to her along the tiredness she still carried with her, as myself, from all the changes lived today. I could see the way her eyelids were drooping, her grip on the stuffed dog loosening just a bit.

Tonks, who had been sitting quietly throughout dinner, glanced at Sara and smiled warmly. “Looks like someone’s ready for bed,” she said in her usual cheerful tone, her bright hair shifting from pink to dark blue as she stood up. “What do you say, little one? Want me to walk you upstairs?”

Sara hesitated, glancing at me for reassurance before nodding. “Okay,” she murmured.

“Go on, I’ll be up in a little bit,” I said, giving her a smile. She nodded again and stood up, holding Tonks’s hand as they made their way toward the staircase. I watched them disappear up the stairs, the sound of their footsteps growing fainter.

Once they were out of sight, the atmosphere in the kitchen shifted. It became heavier, more serious. I glanced around the table. Dumbledore, who had remained silent for most of the meal, was watching me carefully. Remus and Sirius were both quiet now, their faces shadowed with the weight of unspoken memories. Moody and the Weasleys remained silent as well, but they could tense the tension rising around us.

I wasn’t sure where to begin, but I knew I had to ask. The questions had been swirling in my mind for so long, and now, with these people who had known my mother so well, it felt like the right time—though, I also felt strangely hesitant, as if I was intruding on something deeply personal.

“I expect that… This can be a difficult topic to discuss but-“ I looked at Albus as I swallowed down the lump that was forming inside my throat, gathering the courage to speak up, trying to ignore Sirius and Remus’ tense postures “Two days ago I lived in America, in an orphanage, thinking I had no one. Now I’m in England, with a cousin, and a whole lot of people who knew my mother. And, not to forget, magic is real!” I could’ve gone mad, I swear “I just need to know… What happened to my mother? What’s her story? And Sara’s mother’s?” I took a deep breath in, trying to gather my thoughts “Please, I- I need answers.”

Dumbledore sighed softly, his blue eyes filled with a kind of sorrow I hadn’t expected. He folded his hands on the table in front of him, as if preparing himself for the difficult conversation ahead. “Olivia,” he began gently, “There are many details to discuss. The context to what happened to your mother, which gives us the reasons to why what happened actually did, isn’t a pleasant one.”

There had been a war. A wizard who had turned to the dark side was trying to eradicate everything that the people at that very same table loved dearly. He wanted a world of pureblood wizards who believed in his vision; the ones who didn’t… they’d get killed. His name was Voldemort.

After my mother’s graduation from Hogwarts, she had joined the Order of the Phoenix. Her sister, Adler, was also a member, as well as their friend group: Sirius, Remus, and a couple named James and Lily Potter, alongside other witches and wizards. They opposed Voldemort’s followers, the Death Eaters, defending the world Voldemort wanted to destroy.

“So… He’s the reason my mother fled to America?”

“Indeed,” he confirmed “For more than fifteen years, the Order only knew she had disappeared. We didn’t know her real fate. Only recently, have I discovered the truth,” just as when we were talking back at the headmaster’s office, he took something out of his tunic, this time not only one letter, but a stack of them “Through her sister, Adler, when she contacted me a few months ago.”

Both Sirius and Remus went stiff.

“That’s impossible.”

Dumbledore looked at both of them with pity, shaking his head.

“That’s impossible,” Sirius repeated Remus’ words, his voice sharp and incredulous. His eyes flicked from Dumbledore to the stack of letters in the headmaster’s hand. Remus, sitting next to him, looked equally shocked, his face paling.

I sat frozen, caught between their disbelief and the weight of Dumbledore’s words. I could see the turmoil flickering in Sirius’s eyes, shock warring with a desperate hope he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years.

Dumbledore, calm as always, gave a slow nod. “I understand your disbelief, Sirius. We all thought Adler had perished during the war—along with so many others. However, she was alive. She has been in hiding in the United States, searching for her sister... and protecting her daughter, Sara.”

Sirius opened his mouth as if to argue, but no words came out. Remus leaned forward slightly, his brow furrowed, his voice much quieter than Sirius’s but no less urgent. “She… she was alive all this time? Why didn’t we know? Why didn’t she reach out to us? Why didn’t anyone—” He stopped, his gaze shifting to the letters in Dumbledore’s hand, as if the sight of them made everything more real.

One of their best friends they had thought dead had been alive all this time. I could understand the impact. But what was the deal with my aunt?

Dumbledore let out a long sigh and placed the letters gently on the table between us. “Adler did not intend to be gone for as long as she was. As you know, both Miranda and Adler disappeared on the same day. Now we know that Miranda had actually left on her own terms. However, what happened to Adler… It was all a terrible accident.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, my voice shaky. “An accident?”

Dumbledore met my gaze, his expression full of understanding and empathy. “What really happened is that shortly after Miranda fled England, Adler attempted to go back in time and stop her. As she explained to me in one of her letters, back then, she had been exploring alongside Sirius, James and Remus the hideout of some of Voldemort’s death eaters, when they found a series of magical objects. One of them was a time turner. They are very rare and nowadays all of them are locked away in the Ministry of Magic. The day Adler found her sister’s letter, she decided to use it to stop Miranda before leaving. Only a few hours back in time would be enough. Yet…” his look turned harder “It didn’t work. The time-turner was cursed. And instead of traveling back, she was thrown ten years into the future.”

Sirius let out a strangled sound, part gasp, part cry. He let out a shaky breath, his eyes wide with shock. Remus looked equally stunned, blinking as if trying to process the information. Sirius stood abruptly, the legs of his chair scraping loudly against the floor. His eyes were fixed on Dumbledore now, and I could feel the anger building in him even before he spoke.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" His voice was low but edged with fury. "Why didn’t you tell me Adler was alive?"

Remus stiffened by my side, glancing between Sirius and Dumbledore, but remaining silent. So did Moody and the Weasleys, who kept on listening quietly as I did myself.

Dumbledore sighed deeply, setting down his fork and steepling his fingers. “Sirius, I understand your frustration—”

"Frustration?" Sirius’s voice rose, his fists clenching at his sides. "You’ve known for months she was alive, and you didn’t think to tell me so?!”

Dumbledore remained calm, though his voice carried the weight of the situation. "I didn’t want to get your hopes up. Adler’s situation was complicated. She was in hiding, and I didn’t want to jeopardize her safety—or yours, you’re still a fugitive after all”

Sirius shook his head, his grey eyes blazing with disbelief. "You had no right to keep this from me! I could’ve helped her—protected her—”

“There was nothing you-“

“She was my fiancée!” He cried, hurt “I had all the right to know!” He was breathing hard, silent tears running down his cheeks. “There is nothing I wouldn’t have done for her. Nothing.”

I felt my stomach drop at the revelation. Fiancée? Adler and Sirius had been engaged?

Sirius sat back down, his strong façade from earlier crumbling to pieces thinking about his late love. I glanced at Remus, who had his gaze locked on the empty plate in front of him, his thoughts probably distant.

I, on the other hand, didn’t really know how to feel myself. But I did feel sorry for these people, who had evidently cared deeply for that woman. “So… when she arrived in the future… everyone she knew was either gone or… changed,” I whispered.

Dumbledore nodded. “Yes. It is all explained in her letters. Imagine her shock— She was still her same self from the past, barely twenty years old, but the world around her hadn’t stopped. Time had passed, ten years to be exact. There had been many changes and crucial events she had missed. Her friends, the Potters’, had died. Remus had become untraceable, Sirius had been imprisoned in Azkaban… Her world had crumbled around her. The grief she felt was overwhelming, but she did not stop. She decided to search for her sister, Miranda. She didn’t know, however, that she had died not long after giving birth to you.” Dumbledore’s voice reflected the pity of his words. “In the end, not even escaping overseas saved her. But she did safe you, Olivia. From the dark wizards haunting you.”

My mother had died saving me. And I didn’t even as much as remembered her. It all felt so wrong.

“As for Adler,” Albus discretely looked over at Sirius, who was immersed in this own thoughts, before adding: “After the cursed time-turner incident, when she travelled to America in hopes of finding her sister… She discovered she was pregnant.”

Mrs. Weasley gasped, and her husband held her hand. Moody watched us. Remus tensed, and Sirius flinched at this, his eyes locking on Dumbledore with a haunted intensity. His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. “Pregnant?”

It was complicated to process. Before Dumbledore had left to go fetch Sara in America, he had told the members of the Order that he had received news that confirmed that Adler had indeed had a child that was now an infant. Until then, all of them had thought she had disappeared almost sixteen years ago. Just as my mother. How could they have known she had been the victim of a cursed time-turner?

When Dumbledore had told them about Adler having had a daughter, Sirius had been hurt by the idea of her having moved on with another man. He had never known what had really happened to her, and now Albus had told him that she had still been alive long enough to have a child without him. He had thought of her as his one true love. He had thought that if after the war she wanted to have children, it would be his. Theirs.

They believed Adler had died years ago. They didn’t know it had happened recently. They didn’t know Adler had raised her daughter the last few years overseas. Sirius wasn’t sure how he’d react once he saw her.

However, once he had met Sara, he didn’t care about that she wasn’t his. That was Adler’s daughter. He fell in love with the child almost immediately. She looked just as her mother when she was a child, down to every detail… Except the eyes.

Sara may have looked like her mother, yes, but her grey eyes were all her father’s.

As if all the information Dumbledore had been revealing were puzzle pieces, they all clicked together in my mind.

Fifteen years ago, Adler had travelled ten years forward when she was, unbeknown to her, already pregnant. Her child, my cousin, Sara, was four years old, soon to be five. She couldn’t have lost her baby and fall back pregnant again in that time. Sara was the baby she had been pregnant with when she got time-cursed.

Sara’s necklace came to my mind. Her mother’s, gifted to her by her father before she was even born. It had a ring hanging from it, and a pendant.

“You are my one true love. Yours forever, S.B.” I said, looking at Sirius. He flinched hearing my words. “You are S.B., aren’t you? Sirius Black. You gifted Adler a necklace with those words engraved in the pendant.”

His eyebrows frowned and he shook his head, haunted by the memory.

“How do you… How do you know about that?” his voice was shaky, lacking the strength he had shown minutes before when he got angry.

“Sara,” I answered “She has her mother’s necklace. It has the pendant and a ring hanging from it. She told me that Adler said they had been a gift to her from her father.”

Adler was Sirius’ fiancée. They were to be married fifteen years ago, before everything went tragically wrong. They had been a couple. They had loved each other.

“She is your daughter,” I murmured, looking at the man in question. He was speechless “You are her father.”

Sirius’s breath hitched, his face drained of all colour. Remus had his hand half-raised as if to reach for his friend but then lowered it, frozen in shock.

The room fell silent with the massive weight of the truth resting upon all of our shoulders.

"When I went to bring Sara back after her mother’s passing," Dumbledore continued, finishing at last his story glancing briefly at me, "I also found Olivia."

Sirius looked at me then, truly looked at me, and I could see the conflict in his eyes. The shock, the questions, and something else—a recognition that he was still trying to make sense of.

I realized in that moment that he was my uncle. Through my mother’s side, he was my cousin’s father. We were family as well.

He stood up then, almost tripping over his own feet, and he excused himself making his way quickly out of the kitchen. I followed him with my eyes until he disappeared behind the kitchen door into the hallway, and I almost expected to hear the front door opening, but instead he seemed to walk upstairs and go into a room somewhere up there, slamming the door shut.

“You don’t have to worry, he won’t leave the house,” assured Albus, looking at me. “There is still much you have to learn about the wizarding world. About Sirius, he was falsely accused many years ago, as I have mentioned earlier, and imprisoned because of that same false believe. He spent twelve years in Azkaban, a prison for witches and wizards, until he managed to escape two years ago. He’s been living here ever since, until we manage to prove his innocence.”

“What did they accuse him of?” he didn’t seem violent to me. Shaken, a bit emotionally unstable… But I guess it was normal after having spent twelve years in prison, and more than fifteen years without knowing what had happened to his fiancée.

“Betraying his friends,” spoke Remus, for the first time in a very long time. He had also seemed affected by the revelation concerning Adler, Sara… And everything else, but he also seemed to be processing everything internally, on the opposite to Sirius, who had had most of his feelings written on his face throughout Dumbledore’s speech “He didn’t, though… He never did. Never could’ve. He would’ve died rather than betray any of us. Still would. Loyalty is his fatal flaw.”

He stood up, managing a gentle smile in my direction before excusing himself as well, saying he would be going to check on Sirius.

The room fell silent once more, but Mrs. Weasley didn’t give it much time before she began to gather all the empty dishes with a flick of her wand, and made her way over to me urging me to go to bed.

“A good night’s sleep will help you process all the new information,” she said, smiling warmly at me, although I could see in her eyes that she was also still shaken from all the new revelations “Do you need anything to help you relax? A tea, perhaps?”

“No, no,” I shook my head as she put a strand of my hair behind my ear, looking me in the eyes studying them to see if I was telling the truth. I was too stunned by her genuine act of care to say anything more coherent; no one had ever done that to me. “I’m fine Mrs. Weasley, really. Thank you.”

“Molly,” she insisted, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Go get some rest then, dear. You’ll see how it makes wonders.”

I nodded, taking her advice. I had received enough news for the day anyways; my brain might’ve had exploded if I was told anything else about my past and my family’s.

It did hit me that Albus hadn’t mentioned one crucial person in his story: my father.

“Your aunt didn’t know who he was,” he answered, once I asked him about his identity “Nor do I. Your mother didn’t reveal it to her sister when she informed her she was leaving… Only that she was expecting you, and that she had to make sure you were protected from the dark lord’s wrath.”

It seemed like there was still a mystery to discover, then.

I told everyone goodnight before exiting the kitchen, entering the dark and cold hallway. Before I made my way upstairs, though, the door to the kitchen opened again. It was Albus.

“I have to leave for a few days,” he told me “There are some school matters I need to take care of. I know it can seem fast paced to leave you and your cousin here by yourselves already, but you will be well taken care of. The people you’ve met today… They are family. Some even more than you could’ve initially believed, as you can see from what you’ve learned today. You’ll be alright, I’m sure of it.”

Somehow, I knew he was right. Not that I trusted him blindly, but up until that same moment, he had given me enough reasons to not doubt him. And even if it was only for Mrs. and Mr. Weasley, I was already starting to get comfortable in that dark and old house.

He handed me the stack of letters he had shown us earlier. Adler’s letters to him from the last few months. “I wanted you to have these,” he said “Maybe reading her story told by her own words helps you understand it more. And this one.” he pointed at the letter that was on top of the others; this one was still inside a sealed envelope, and it was bigger and thicker than the rest “She wrote it for Sirius. She wanted him to have it… Now that she’s not with us anymore, I thought he’d still want to receive it.”

“She wrote to him?”

“She did. I haven’t read it, of course. But I believe he must. Just as for yourself, hearing her story written by her own hand and quill can probably help him wrap his mind around it better” he sighed, raising his gaze above us to the ceiling. “He’s going to need some time, and help. I hope you will give him a hand?”

I would, of course. He was my cousin’s father. Now that I had a family, I wouldn’t let it fall to pieces, not if I had a say in it.

“I have to return to Hogwarts now,” Albus said, smiling behind his half-moon shaped glasses “And now that I remember, speaking of school matters…” he waved his hand, and a last letter appeared out of thin air. He gave it to me, almost solemnly “I’ll see you soon, Olivia.”

He dissaparated in the blink of an eye, and just like that, I was alone in the hallway once again. I looked at the last letter he had given me. On one side, it said my name, followed by the very place I was standing at:

Mrs. O. Fox

The Hallway by the Kitchen

12, Grimmauld Place

Islington, London

It was the first time I was being addressed at with a last name, so that was an initial shock I had to overcome first. Turning the letter around, I was faced by an emblem with a big letter ‘H’ in the middle, surrounded by four animals. ‘Hogwarts’, it said.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The school my mother had been to. As well as my aunt, my uncle, and their friends. Inside the envelope was an acceptance letter to the school, signed by a so-called Professor McGonagall.

Last week, I had been a normal girl living in a non-magical world waiting for something magical to happen. Now, magic was real, I had sort of a family, and even if there was still much I didn’t understand, I knew two things for certain: I wasn’t alone in the world, and I would be going to Hogwarts.

Taglist: @lj0990@fvckiminthecloset@earphonejack09 @httpvomitello

[koithelittle]

christmas movies & cuddles

note; my first fic here, yay!! terrified would be an understatement. idk how long it’s taken me to write this but it’s been a while, i was really struggling with being okay and confident with it so if it suck’s, i’m sorry. requests are open tho! for all things, and my inbox just in general so have at it! okay that’s all.

warnings; use of daddy/dada, cutesy pet names, brief mention of alcohol (wils past wif cwistmas), ummmss,,, mark boardman is there! great sitter- okay that’s all i think! not proofread for mistakes so beware!

pairing; cg!wilbur soot x gn!little!reader

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taglist; @jjtheresidentbaby @lillylvjy @wilmaslittleflower @whos-nicooo (ask to be added!)

wilbur always found enjoyment in making you happy, in doing things that would bring a smile to your face or make you laugh and giggle. he loved to be your sun, when all you were surrounded by was darkness.

he's never been fond of holidays if he's honest. he didn't like dressing up for Halloween, and as a guy in his mid-late 20s, he didn't particularly care for the party side of halloween either. when it came to Christmas, it only seemed to remind him how lonely he was. or had been. before he met you, christmas was spent inside, alone with alcohol to numb the loneliness.

but now, with you, he has every reason to celebrate it. christmas decor goes up november 1st, Christmas cookies get made the day after and he already has a list of gifts he plans on getting for you and all of your shared friends. he has plans of activities, and small outings to go on. you go ice skating together, where he holds you to his side and keeps you from falling. he takes you out to get a christmas tree together, bringing it home and setting it up in the corner of the den.

he'll stand on his toes to hang up the garlands, spending hours outside hanging up christmas lights on the porch (you tell him it's not worth the cold he'll endure, but he insists on doing it without you peeking all so it's a surprise). he loves doing things for you, and holding you and keeping you warm during the cold nights. he'll make you tea or cocoa and hold you between his legs as you both watch a christmas movie.

you show him all your favorites, although, elf is his all time favorite. he finds it bizarre and funny at the same time. how silly it is, and campy it feels. he'll rub your stomach and kiss your cheek, holding you close to his chest.

if he's honest, part of why he does all of these things is to help you, to heal you and to make christmas fun for big you and little you (because let's be honest, he does everything he can to bring a smile to your face both big and little).

lately, though, he's wanted to focus more on at home, quiet christmasy adventures. things that you would feel comfortable doing when you're regressed, which meant quiet and cuddly activities that meant being cooped up inside.

he'd seen the whole boo basket trend, and thought it was a neat idea but wanted to have his own twist on it (prior to deciding, he also saw the burr basket posts but those fizzled out before he really got a good idea of what he had planned). he sat down at his desk to list a few stores he'd stop by and what items he planned to get from each one.

the local bookstore was sure to have a santa book, and maybe even a few jellycats (you eyed them all the time, and he almost always sneakily bought the mini ones to hide around the house). after the bookshop, he'd head to another shop, one that he's sure would have a basket and maybe a blanket, some candy and instant cocoa, amongst other things.

once his list was completed, he hurried down the stairs to where you were cooped up in the corner of the couch, wrapped up in one of his blankets with your stuffed bunny held against your chest. you'd been regressed for a few hours now, and needed quiet time so he set you up in the living room awhile ago, your favorite cartoon playing on the TV.

he sat beside you, pulling you into his side as he kisses your cheek and temple. he rubs your arm as he smiles down at you, "hello, baby, you ok?" he whispers as you whine and crawl into his arms, sitting in his lap.

he chuckles softly, nuzzling his nose against your hair as your hands grip onto his shirt. he pulls back to get a look at your face, hand on the side of your head as he pushes hair out of your face.

"love," his voice is a bit more firm, "are you okay?" you shrug as a response, soft frown held on your lips as he sighs and pulls you closer. he presses kisses to the top of your head, running his fingers through your hair as his other hand rubs your back.

he holds you for a while, the TV playing as background noise more or less as he coos and whispers a soft lullaby to soothe you a bit. when your grip on his shirt loosens, and your breathing steadies out, he pulls back to look you in the eye again.

"I've gotta go out for a bit, do you want to go stay with grace or wilma?" he whispers softly, hands on your lower back as he gets you to sit up a bit more.

you shrug, eyes stuck on the wall behind him as you zone out. he rubs your back, bringing your attention to him again, "okay," you mumble, dropping your head to your shoulder.

he kisses the shell of your ear, recognizing that you're most likely nonverbal or at least close to it. he nuzzles his nose against your cheek in a light manner, tickling you. you giggle softly, tensing up before relaxing in his hold when he kisses your temple.

"what if... I called over wilma to keep an eye on you, mm? orrrr maybe joe? ash? mark?" he smirks, pressing a few kisses to your cheek.

"ummm.. mark!" you giggle softly, smiling wide and happy at the thought of getting to see Mark again. you have a few drawings for him, as well!

"mark? okay, well can you give Daddy a few minutes while I call him, yeah?"

you nod softly, scooting out of his lap and settling in front of the TV as you start to play with your stuffies. wilbur sits up, walking over to the foyer as he calls mark, listening as it rings.

mark picks up, "hey, mate! what's up?" his voice is bright and chirpy, always happy.

"hey, I've got a favor to ask," wilbur starts, and you perk up. you sit up, leaning over the back edge of the couch, looking over at him and smiling.

Wilbur smiles over at you, chuckling before he continues, "I need to head into town for a bit and I was wondering if you'd come over and look after y/n for a bit? they're little right now and I just don't want to leave them alone but I can't take them either," Wilbur sighs, pacing a slight bit as he awaits and answer from mark.

you don't bother to listen to the rest, slinking to the corner of the couch and curling up happily. he walks over a moment later, sitting beside you and rubbing your side and arm.

"hey lovebug," wilbur coos, you lift your head and smile sleepily at him. he pulls you up into his lap, holding you close.

"hi, dada," you whisper, head rested on his shoulder as he rubs your back softly, free hand playing with your hair.

"mark will be here soon, yeah?" he smiles sweetly, rubbing your upper arms as he pulls back to look at you.

he holds you close to him, humming a soft tune as you let the time pass quietly. mark soon rings the doorbell and wilbur greets him before giving him a way too detailed run down, as if he'd never been your sitter before. then, wilbur finally leaves.

he hurries out to the car, heading into town. he had the list pulled up on his phone, ready to have things marked off. he started with the book shop, sifting through the various christmas children books and collecting a few in his arms, checking out and walking next door to the children's shops.

he spends the rest of the next two hours, shopping and gathering things of all kinds. your favorite candies, a blanket, a stuffie or two, books, crayons, etc etc. anything that could make you feel better. and so, after he puts everything in the trunk, he gathers it all up into the basket, making it look all pretty before he tucks it into the passengers seat, making his way home.

while wilbur is driving home, you and Mark are set up on the kitchen floor. he made a little sensory box for you, one that he brought from home. youre playing with the toys, making the dinos fly as mark watches you and cheers you on, making you giggle with every question he has.

"what's this dinos name, little one?" mark coos, holding a blue dino up to you.

you giggle softly, taking the dino and placing it on the top of his head, making it jump around before taking it back and putting it in the box, “bluey,” you hum.

“oh, bluey? that’s a nice name, hm?” you nod at mark’s question, quietly playing in the box that holds sand and rice and an assortment of dino toys.

“when’s daddy gettin home?” you mumble quietly, eyes cast down on the dinos you’re playing with.

mark hums, thinking for a moment before he answers, “soon, hun, promise.”

soon didnt come soon enough for you, waiting not so patiently for wilbur to come home. once you hear the door click open, you jump up and hurry to the door, slinging yourself into his chest. you hug him close, babbling incoherently to him as he hugs you back.

"hey, baby, you okay? you miss me?" he croons, pulling you closer against his chest, his arms wrapped around you. you nod, giggling happily.

"missed you, dada!" you squeal as he moves to pick you up, holding you on his hip as mark cleans up in the kitchen.

"I missed you too baby! how about you settle down here, mkay?" he sets you down on the couch, tucking a blanket over you as he moves into the kitchen.

"were they okay?" wilbur kneels down to help clean up the dino toys and what other things get taken out of the box.

mark smiles and nods, "of course! they missed you though, alot."

wilbur hums, smiling to himself at the thought as he and mark bid goodbyes, mark soon leaving through the front door. you peak up over the back of the couch, arms folded and chin resting atop of them.

he chuckles, walking over to you and kissing your forehead, brushing hair out of your face gently, "hi love, I'm gonna go get something, okay? be a good little love while I'm gone. I'll be right back," he places a lingering kiss to your forehead before he turns to leave out the door. you stay there, watching the door like a puppy. he steps back in a few minutes later, a basket covered with his jacket now clad in his arms.

"close your eyes, bunbun," he smiles widely, and you do as told, giggling softly as you shut your eyes. you feel him sitting down next to you and something wicker being placed in your lap.

"open, love," he smiles as you, watching as you excitedly giggle and look up at him.

“all for me?” you whisper in disbelief, eyes wide with joy as you hold the sides of the basket, waiting for the go ahead.

“mhm, just for you, baby. go on, open it. it’s for our evening,” he smiles a bit softer, hand reaching behind your head to rub your hair as he watches you excitedly unwrap it all. your eyes widening with each thing, giggling and squealing happily with each little gift. once it’s all open, you crawl into his lap and wrap your arms around his neck, settling in for a hug.

“thank you, daddy!” you giggle softly, nuzzling your face into his neck as wilbur hugs you close.

“did you like it?” he hums, kissing your temple and cheek as he guides you back so he can look down at your face.

you nod eagerly, “all of it! every bit!” you reach over for the little bunny stuffie he grabbed for you and you show it to him, “it looks like you dada!”

he chuckles, rubbing your cheek and nodding, “oh it does, doesn’t it?” he takes it into his hand, waving it a bit at you as you giggle.

“yeah! ‘s you, dada!”

“well that’s a high compliment, mm?” you nod softly at his words as he hands the bunny back to you, pulling you into his lap as he rubs his thumbs over your soft cheeks, “how does a christmas movie with popcorn and candy and cuddles sound, mm?” his lips curl up in a coy smile, eyes bright with love for you.

you nod in agreement, resting your head on his shoulder as your hands rest on his sides, “mmhm, please?”

he nods, mumbling a quick okay as he kisses your cheek and sets you aside on the couch, “i’m gonna go get stuff from the kitchen, ok? you stay here and rest,” you nod, rubbing your eyes sleepily as you curl up on your side.

he hurries into the kitchen, starting some popcorn as he fills your favorite sippy with some juice, setting that aside as he pours the popcorn in a bowl. he sits beside you, popcorn on the coffee table as he hands you your sippy cup. you hold it, leaning against his side as he sets up a movie, cuddling close with you as you both quietly watch the movie together.

the rest of the evening is spent cuddled up with a christmas movie and candy, no need to talk or chat, and that’s the best part.

[tossawary]

Ended up thinking about "Dragon Age" again, specifically mostly DA2 and time travel fics. I think Hawke is the second-easiest DA protagonist for an author to throw backwards in time or into another dimension (the first is the Inquisitor, whose game has canonical time travel), because Hawke potentially getting abandoned in the Fade in DAI is an excuse for anything to happen.

More importantly, I think Hawke is the FUNNIEST protagonist to throw back in time for a redo, because they're not put in charge of Solving The Apocalypse for the majority of their game. The Warden and the Inquisitor are dealing with kingdoms, with the Blight and the Breach, whereas Hawke is "just" dealing with a city state and spends most of their initial time there fucking around trying to support their family. But WHAT a city. Hawke would have to go back and deal with fucking Kirkwall again in all its early, awful glory, a real powder keg waiting to blow.

The amount of time spent in Kirkwall and its incredibly violent game missions isolated to this one location across nearly a decade gives it so much character that, to me, it's perhaps the most entertaining DA location to explore as a place where ordinary people actually live (though, admittedly, many places in Thedas are fucking terrible), and Hawke's tragic relationship with that place as its hero is fascinating to think about. Hawke would have a lot to feel sad about, coming back to this strange place, with both good things and bad things undone, but I find it amusing to imagine that Hawke also actually missed this terrible place and its peculiar version of normal.

Here's a 400 word ficlet of how I imagine Hawke's reunion with Kirkwall going. I don't intend to write a full fic, it's just a scene that came to me with surprising clarity while out on a walk, despite how long it's been since I played a DA game.

KIRKWALL (AGAIN)

Garrett looked over the dark streets of Kirkwall and had to wipe a tear away from his eye. "This place is a shit hole," he said, in the same tone of awe others used for incomparable beauty. 

In front of them, a drunken sailor holding a bottle of whiskey and singing a terrible rendition of the already terrible song "What Do You Do With A Tranquil Blood Mage?" wobbled into a vegetable cart. This caused several turnips to bounce across the cobblestones. The cursing grocer picked one of them up, yelled, "WATCH WHERE YOU'RE WALKING, YOU DOG-FUCKING BLIGHTER," and threw it at the drunken sailor, whose head was saved by the fact that he lurched over to throw up in an alleyway, and the vegetable smashed into the side of a house instead. 

Inside the house, there was a crash, and then the shutters of an upper window flew open, revealing a naked man holding a crossbow. He yelled, "I'LL HAVE YOUR BALLS FOR A NECKLACE, YOU POINTY-EARED COCKSUCKERS," despite the fact that no one nearby was an elf, and then fired at the street below him. His crossbow bolt lodged into a wooden message board, which was mostly covered in old, vandalized paper posters for the Blooming Rose and other like-minded establishments, and the quivering "crossbow bolt" was revealed to be a rusty fork tied to a butter knife with string, covered in sparkly white and blue powder that glowed slightly. It matched the other mismatched cutlery already embedded in the wood there. 

The naked man with the crossbow slammed his shutters closed again. The people on the streets had ducked or raised a shield, but now easily went back to their business, apparently unsurprised and unworried. An old woman crouched down to the ground and stuffed the thrown turnip into the basket over her arm, then hastily walked away with her free loot. 

"I missed this city so much," Garrett said, and even he was a little horrified that he meant it so sincerely. There was no need for Carver to look at him like that. 

[madrabbit014]

A Word With Friends

I was tagged by the amazing @bubblecat-co 💜

As always, I'm late to actually doing this, so if you see this and want to participate, consider yourself tagged.

Rules: Use the challenge word to write a sentence or scene and then tag a few friends!

This week's word is Redolent

Definition: 1. Fragrant or aromatic; having a sweet scent. 2. Having the smell of the article in question. 3. Suggestive or reminiscent.

Inspired by this scene from Vampire Diaries.

Esha belongs to @i-creatied-au Isiah belongs to @a-mumbling-nerd

Nels sighed. That was stupid. They were stupid. This was stupid. The small elf sat holed up in their room, leg braced in a splint as they waited for their father to come back with a healer. Surrounding them on their bed was their abundance of stuffed toys, and while usually they were a comfort, right now it felt as if they were all mocking their pointy-eared friend. Even the redolent scent of lavender that always filled the room annoyed Nels. They crossed their arms in a pout. 

They had been on a walk with their siblings when their little brother almost fell off the side of a small cliff. While trying to keep him from falling, Nels had misstepped and fallen instead. Esha had managed to carry them back to the house where their dad put them on room-arrest until they got checked by a healer. Nels leaned back further into their pillow. They glared up at their stupid ceiling in their stupid room that they were stuck in because their stupid leg hurt. After a few moments they decided to close their eyes, hoping sleep would make the time pass quicker.

*****

Nels was woken up to a poking feeling on their cheek. They slowly opened their eyes to see a surprised, and very worried looking Isiah.

“Are you okay?”

“No. I’m bored.”

“Oh. Sorry. I can leave you alone if you want.”

Dang it. Nels didn’t mean to make Isiah feel bad. They really weren’t sure what had them so agitated. It wasn’t the first time they had gotten hurt doing something stupid. Was it because they’re leg was in a brace this time? Or because it was almost Isiah who got hurt? Nels didn’t know but something in the back of their mind was nagging at them.

“No, it’s not your fault. I just wish dad would hurry back. You can stay.”

“Okay.”

Isiah crawled closer to Nels and curled up beside them, resting his head on their shoulder.

“What’s Esha up to?”

“Dad’s making her write a reflection letter because she wasn’t supposed to let us go off the path.”

“It’s taking her this long to write it? Dad must’ve been really mad.”

“No, it’s only a hundred words. She’s just mad at herself cuz you got hurt so she keeps rewriting it.”

“It’s not her fault. I’m the one who stepped wrong and fell.” Nels grumbled. Stupid mistake. Stupid cliff.

“Are you gonna get better?”

“What?” The question caught Nels off guard, “Of course I’m gonna get better. Dad’ll bring back the healer and I’ll be up and walking by dinner. Even if the healer refuses to come it’ll heal on its own. Eventually.” The thought of waiting for their leg to heal on its own soured Nels’ mood even more and they scrunched up their face.

“So you’re not gonna die?”

Oh. “Isiah, everyone dies eventually. It’s just kinda how life works. But, a hurt leg isn’t going to kill me, no.” Nels put their arm around his shoulder and gave him a light squeeze. 

“But what if you die, and I’m still here?”

“Well… then you’ll be all grown up. And you won’t need me anymore.”

Isiah curled up tighter to Nels, a hot tear running down his face, “I think I’ll always need you.”

Nels hugged their brother as well as they could without jostling their leg, “Then I’ll just have to stick around for as long as I can.”

[blorger]

Potter’s still just standing there, looking at the stack of parchment and back to Draco. Neither subtlety nor professionalism has ever been Potter’s modus operandi. Draco sighs and throws his hands up. “For fuck’s sake, Potter. Do you want something?” The profanity jars him from his trance; Potter clears his throat and steps forward. “I, er – I may have, uh. Lost a few things.” “Thank Merlin, the Chosen One can speak. What things?” “Um. Well, see, that’s the – that may be a bit of a problem.” Draco raises an eyebrow and is rather pleased to see that it has the intended effect. Potter looks sheepish and flustered and it’s just a bit delightful. “Oh?” “Well, it was kind of a lot of things.” Draco’s face and stomach fall in unison. The ice in his voice is entirely genuine. “How many things?” “A lot?” Oh, Salazar. “How. Many?” “Um,” Potter mumbles, “about, you know, a houseful.” Draco’s eyes flutter shut. “It’s you.” He adds, silently to himself, Who else could it be? “It’s – what?” Draco takes a deep breath and counts backwards from five before snapping his eyes open and staring at Potter with all the bile he can muster. “Are you, by any chance, the proud owner of nine decapitated, stuffed, and mounted house elf heads?” Potter stops chewing on his bottom lip. “Proud might be a bit strong, but, uh, yeah. Those are mine.”

from The Vanishing Department by dicta_contrition 🔒

[mlmichaelharrison]

HSS Christmas HCs

10PM on Christmas day itself. Cutting it a bit close lol.

Hey. Had some cute ideas so jotted them down. Not proofread, random dribbling, but I hope it brings a little festive joy 😊

The order, because I know y'all have your favorites:

Emma (Luis mention)

Caleb (Ezra mention)

Maria

Aiden (and Myra)

Michael

My MC Finley

Emma has a quiet Christmas with her mom, sharing homemade mulled wine while catching up on the trashy TV her mom never has time for, between working.

They watch Love Island, a tacky British reality show, and they mock the British accent back and forth. “I GOT A TEEEEXT!” Emma would yell every time her phone pinged, and she was startled by her mom screaming it at the top of her lungs a few hours later.

She and Luis text throughout the day, Luis sharing silly snapshots of the chaos that ensues when the whole family is crammed into his small house. Her heart flutters when he shares goofy selfies with his kiddy cousins.

Once a little tipsy, Emma and Julia switch the TV off and switch to their radio, dancing together around the coffee table of snacks. Julia teaches her some ballet moves she'd picked up from classes when she was very young. Emma felt like a princess, just as she deserves, spinning elegantly with her silver dress swirling around her.

She shares a classy selfie on the group chat of her and her mom tipping their wine glasses towards the camera, smiles broad and genuine, matching sparkly tiaras and true happiness.

Caleb’s parents have a huge party at theirs: friends, family, family friends - they're popular, too, so there's probably about 100 of them sprawled across the mansion. They have a giant spread of party food. Down with the traditional, boring roast!

The day is lovely but exhausting. Caleb’s mom followed his grandma's stuffing recipe to a T, and the result had them all smiling and mentioning memories of her. Just a few tears, and then it was on to games. In front of the fireplace for charades, a corner for snap with the kids, two tables of boardgames. Caleb drifts between them, making sure to spend time with every single person.

He drifts to the kitchen to pour himself another glass of pop when Ezra comes around the corner, a small, coy smile as he holds up two switch controllers. “Too tired for Mario Kart with your bro?”

Caleb grins broadly and follows his brother upstairs, hiding away in Ezra's bedroom as the battle valiantly. It's a tight match, and by the 12 and final race of the tournament, they're 6-5 to Ezra. Caleb pulls it back, ending them on a draw, which he'll take any day against such a worthy opponent.

Caleb takes a photo of Ezra's game face for the group chat, Rainbow Road on show in the corner, captioned “now THIS is what Christmas is all about”

Maria and her dads celebrate a traditional Christmas, just them in a private corner of a VERY high-class restaurant. Fancy suits for the men and a gorgeous flowing gown of pale blue and white for Maria. Quiet conversation and laughter passes between them.

When the conversation dies down - not that it's awkward, not at all - Maria pops up with a completely random question. A trick she learned from you. She learns so much about her fathers through this - like the heist they pulled in high school to steal a teacher’s laser pointer they used to shine in sleepy faces.

As the evening winds down, and after they've taken enough pictures together, they head home and curl up on the couch in matching festive pajamas to watch festive specials of game shows and shout answers at the screen.

After that, it's movie time, and Maria's eyes start drooping as her dads recite the words to Elf perfectly. To stop herself from falling asleep, she responds to each and every message in their group chat meticulously, commenting on how cute and festive everyone looks.

Her photo to the group chat is her and her fathers’s feet, propped up in a footstool, in matching Christmas slipper-socks, the fireplace and twinkling fairy lights and Elf blurry in the background.

Aiden's family also have a traditional Christmas, a home cooked roast for lunch where they all dress properly and dine with quiet classical music in the background. It's something Aiden used to enjoy as a kid, feeling so respected by his parents, but the older he gets the more he sees what he's missing out on. He's a little quieter this year.

That changes once Myra and her family turn up, alongside a couple other Asian-American families they've gotten close with other the years. They have a giant potluck of dishes spanning the continent their family came from in a colourful array that brings Aiden a lot more joy than the bland beiges of America.

He and Myra sneak off to his room with a bottle of gin to chat shit about the friend group - but, rather than chatting shit, Myra squeaks and shows Aiden every message that comes in, and he just chuckles and says he can see the messages on his phone as well. After an interaction between Finley and Michael that leaves Myra squealing, she asks if he will ever get flirting with someone. He shrugs and says he's waiting for the right person, which makes Myra roll her eyes, but she doesn't push him.

After a few drinks, they head downstairs to mingle again, avoiding uncomfortably heteronormative and invasive questions about when they'll finally settle down, as if they aren't 16 year olds. It's a little awkward, but they're used to it by now, gliding through practised sets of phrases and dodging questions about their friend choices.

Aiden and Myra head to the garden for a breath of fresh air, and it starts snowing. Myra, obviously, is ecstatic, and she runs up to Aiden with her camera open on her phone to send a photo to the group chat of them smiling, snow in their hair, captioned “hope your Christmases are gayer than ours!”

Michael is the only one who leaves the state for Christmas. His family are from New York, with him, his parents, and older sister being the only ones to have moved away. It's a gruelling 5 hour flight, but his two closest cousins scream into his shoulders as they both squeeze him in a hug.

Christmas is always a tough time for Michael. Closeted queerness, anorexia, high high high expectations that he repeatedly fails to meet. He's repeatedly asked if he's staying out of crime, out of violence, out of trouble, and it feels like they don't actually care and just want to remind him of his past.

His cousins, however, Emily and TJ, make sure he's comfortable. So much so, in fact, that after dinner, when they're hanging out in his room and getting ready to go to the skatepark (tradition, of course), he comes out. It kind of happens accidentally; TJ notices a bunch of sappy messages sent by ‘Fin’, so he asks. Michael gets a little flustered, but settles when he looks at his cousins. These kids had to raise themselves, together. “My boyfriend,” he says, plain and simple, smirking a little. Then he panics. “Don't tell anyone!”

Emily laughs and claps his back. “No worries, Mikey. Fellow queer.” “Really?” TJ rolls his eyes like it's old news. Maybe it is. He hasn't been there for a year. “Yes, really. Now hurry up. I wanna smoke.” TJ responds.

Michael sends a short video to the group chat of him skating around a heavily graffitied collection of concrete ramps with a spliff hanging out of his grinning lips.

Finley and Scott have a quiet Christmas, and even that has to wait until Scott gets home from work. He feels a little lonely, especially with his boyfriend on the other side of the country, but he wakes up, shrugs it off and gets to baking.

He is an avid baker, usually a stress baker, but this time it soothes his anxiety and gives him something to think about other than his mom. Their lavish parties, the presents, the meal. The hugs. The love. Nope, not thinking about it, he reminds himself as he stirs a brownie batter furiously.

The texts from Michael throughout the day fill him with warmth, despite his unheated home. He finds himself smiling at the screen at everything he says. Even the sadder parts, like how hard the big meal was, because even then it meant Michael was opening up to him. Then, Michael tells him he came out to his cousins. Then, he sends a selfie from the skatepark. “God, you're gorgeous”, Fin replies, met by eye rolling emojis.

He also checks in with the others, of course, rejects a couple of invitations for lunch and instead starts boiling the kettle for some instant ramen in the kitchen while the brownies bake. Emma drops him a call, reminding him of a group gift left for him in the fridge. He opens it to find a full Christmas dinner that each of them had helped to prepare. There's a card signed by all of them as well, with Michael's passage being the longest. He tears up a little and microwaves the meal, then dishes it up nicely for himself.

He takes a selfie, leaning back in the kitchen seat with the camera upside down and the meal and freshly baked brownies in frame on the table. He sticks his tongue out with a grin and says “hap hols hoes”.

Happy Christmas y'all, hope you had a good one ❤️

[ghostofaboy]

Day Four - Kinktober 2024

Day 4: Hate Sex / Wax Play / Costumes or Fancy Dress Halsin/Pero Tovar Rating: Explicit | Word Count: 1073 Warnings: Hate sex, rough sex, anal sex

Ghost of a Boy Kinktober Prompt List | Kinktober '24 Masterlist

The mercenaries hadn’t been Halsin’s choice, but after the events last year with the Absolute, bandits in the area had been emboldened. The rebuilding efforts in Reithwin were coming along slowly, and the small, fragile settlement was still reliant on produce from the outside. Looking back, the first attack had been simply to test their defense, while the second time they had managed to grab a few barrels of goods. He, Shadowheart, and Zevlor did their best, but by the time of the sixth attack in a month, even Halsin had to admit they needed outside help.

The mercenaries had been brought in a couple of days later, quickly and efficiently seeing off the local bandits the next time the group reared their heads. The refugees were continuing the rebuild, the children were safe, and it seemed like all was well. Except for one thing.

The mercenary group were run by a former Elturel tiefling by the name of Nicor. A friendly fellow that Halsin liked even without Zevlor’s reassurance. In fact, now he thought about it Halsin liked the group. Except for one member. 

Pero Tovar was a gruff unpleasant man from a strange land, and Halsin couldn’t stand him. He’d tried a first to be cordial with the the human, making small talk to try to get to know Tovar better. But all Halsin had received in response was grunts, scowls, and muttering. His dislike for the man grew day on day, forcing Halsin to bite his tongue each time the man swore in earshot of the children, or was needlessly rude to one of the many refugees.

So, there was no small amount of confusion on Halsin’s part as to how he found himself in the arrangement they were in now. And he had no doubt many of his former traveling companions would have something to say if they found out. Halsin found himself letting out a small chuckle, imagining Astarion’s reaction to his situation.

A knock on his door snapped Halsin out of his thoughts and opening it he was greeted with the scowling face of Tovar.

“Did anyone see you?” Halsin ushered Tovar into the tumble-down house on the edge of the area once claimed by the Shadow Curse. 

“They never do.” Tovar growled, shrugging off his cloak and tugging up his shirt. 

“Still, I would prefer you remain cautious.” Halsin frowned, pulling down his pants and underwear, shivering slightly at the cold air. “My business is my own, but there are some who would not approve of-”

“No one saw me.” Tovar threw his pants to the side as he rolled his eyes at Halsin. Gesturing to the blanket on the floor, Tovar began to pump his hardening cock.

“You are a thoroughly unpleasant man.” Halsin grumbled. Getting down onto all floors, his cock twitching to life as he felt Tovar grip his ass cheeks. 

“You want me to leave?” Tovar laughed, tracing a finger around Halsin’s ready hole. “Leave you with your pride and a hard on?”

“Just get on with it!” It was Halsin’s turn to growl, turning his head just in time to see Tovar lining himself up. Locking eyes with the druid, Tovar gave Halsin a cheeky wink before slowly easing himself into the large elf’s ass. 

Inch by inch, Tovar began to split him open, pausing after a few moments to let Halsin adjust. Halsin was achingly hard now, arousal flooding through him making it impossible to stop himself from letting out a low moan as Tovar continued to push in. Then after a few moments, Halsin felt the familiar coarse hair of Tovar’s bush brush against his skin.

It had been so long since Halsin had found a man who could truly fill him but the stretch was perfect. Exactly what Halsin needed, and he hated that Tovar was the one who could give it to him. But here he was, on his hands and knees in a dilapidated house, with his ass in the air stuffed full of mercenary cock.

"Ready?" Tovar rasped behind him, his voice thick with lust.

"Ready." Halsin had barely spoken when Tovar began to move.

Sex between them was never gentle. No kisses, caresses, or foreplay. This was most definitely what Halsin would describe as fucking. From the moment his cock disappeared into Halsin, Tovar set a brutal pace. Every thrust was a full-body experience, almost shunting Halsin along the floor at times, making it difficult to catch his breath.

Tovar pounded into Halsin, rolling his hips for a few thrusts, before snapping them forward in quick jolting movements. It was frantic, frenzied and merciless. And Halsin loved every single moment.

His whole body ached with the tension inside him, that coiling spring that left him dizzy with desire. All that was left was the rush, the heady intoxication as sweat dripped onto the dirt floor, and precum steadily dribbled from his throbbing cock.

It never took them long to finish. Tovar came first, shuddering and swearing as he flooded Halsin's hole with red-hot seed. His fingers gripping onto the druid's hip hard enough to leave bruises as he huffed and grunted his way through his climax.

But to his credit, Tovar would never stop pounding into Halsin until the other man also reached his peak. With breathy moans and a shiver that engulfed his entire body, Halsin came. Pinching his eyes shut to picture a different face, Halsin emptied himself onto the dirty blanket beneath him. Thick ropes, flicked forward past his hands that gripped the rough fabric as Tovar never wavered in his thrusts.

It was exactly what he’d needed, but eventually, the shockwaves ebbed away, bringing Halsin rudely back to reality. The cold air seemed to rush over his naked form, making goosebumps erupt over his body, as he felt Tovar still and then withdraw.

They redressed in silence, as they always did, with no eye contact. Then, with a slight nod, Tovar left the house. Halsin could hear his heavy footsteps as the mercenary made his way back to the town. As always, Halsin would give it another few minutes, before using his wild shape to become a small creature to sneak his way back to the Last Light Inn. And as always he would swear to himself it would be the last time he let that vile man fuck him, before discretely making new plans with Tovar the next day.

[bamfaholic]

Angel of the Streets

Desc: Kurt finds a dying bird and eases its end.

Tags: animal death, no graphic depiction, Kurt is in fact religious, author is an ex-christian now Jew, comfort fic, one shot, not edited/proofread

A/N: I'm sick in bed and it's like 4am so I wrote this. I also lost a pet bird today, which heavily inspired this comfort fic. Not proof read, and probably not my best work. Will be cross posted to my AO3.

Banners made by @/cafekitsune

The X-Men had taken a short holiday to town. Scott insisted it was just a supply run (groceries) but Rouge already had the rest of the crew on board to window shop and sight see.

The streets bustled enough that no one paid much mind to the fuzzy blue elf straggling behind the group of peculiar young adults. He was taking his time, enjoying the beauty. The architecture of Downstate New York was far different from that of Germany. He hoped to visit Albany one day, for he knew the city preserved much of its Dutch heritage, especially in its buildings.

Of course, the first building to catch his eye was the old church down at the corner. Far older than the shops and office buildings near it, it stuck out like a sore thumb. Made of stone, a bell tower near the front with a real metal bell inside, a handcrafted statue of Mother Mary decorated the front lawn. Kurt slowed down as the group passed the entrance. Its doors were left closed. It was a Wednesday, no service to be had, and it wasn't common for churches to be open to the public anymore. The government raided them first for housing mutants, some pastors catching jail time for being "Mutie sympathizers."

Kurt's eyes scanned the carved wooden sign, right beside the sidewalk. It read: Church of Immanuel. All are welcome. A bittersweet smile bit at Kurt's lips, the "all are welcome" line clearly being conditional. He was confident if he were to step inside he'd experience Deja Vu of his younger years.

He pulled his coat tighter around himself. He reasoned it was the crisp New York Autumn cold nipping at his ears, but truly churches were where he felt the gaze of God the most. Physical reminders of His presence, just like his rosary. He felt like he was a sheet of glass, easily seen through. He whispered one of the countless prayers he had memorized before beginning to catch up to the group. However, a flock of pigeons captured his attention next.

Now his smile turned playful. Pigeons delighted Kurt, finding himself one and the same with them. He reached in his pocket for the bread roll he bought at the bakery a few blocks back, breaking it into small little pieces as he carefully approached the flock.

Kurt found himself more fond of animals than people, they had no concept of good or bad, demons or angels. They were just creations of God, partaking in their role of this interstellar play.

"Hello, meine freunde." He said amusingly, crouching closer to the ground. He began to scatter pieces of his bread, doing his best to be fair with the distribution, but something caught his eye.

One lone pigeon stayed behind, at the front of the steps to the church. It laid on its side, its chest rising and falling quickly. The poor thing was dying, that was clear. It's feathers puffed, eyes closed. Kurt stuffed the roll back into his pocket before carefully approaching the bird. With gentle care, he scooped the pigeon into his hands.

"Oh, you poor thing." He murmured. "You're not alone anymore, and soon your suffering will be over."

Not very knowledgeable about birds, he just gently held the creature. He didn't allow the other birds to come near, creating distance with his tail, and did his best not to move or jerk his arms.

"What is it Americans call you?" He clicked his tongue. "Oh, yes, rats with wings." He shook his head. "I never understood why they see you as nothing but a pest." He sighed. "You and doves are very similar, practically the same." He rambled on.

He told himself he was doing it to keep the bird calm, but he knew he was lying to himself. The bird likely wasn't very conscious at this point, with only a few minutes left. It was a harsh reminder of the reality of life: all living things have an end.

He prayed his end would be just as gentle.

The bird seemed to struggle to breathe at points, drawing a "Shh, rest little one," from Kurt. The other pigeons had paid no mind this entire time, pecking away at the treat he had sprinkled on the cement for them.

"You and I are one and the same, did you know that?" His smile was bitter sweet. "Left behind by your own people." His mind wandered back to Germany, to home. How people there cast him out, the countless insults hurled at him. How he too scrounged for bread crumbs on the streets. He fed the birds there too, even if he didn't have enough to fill his stomach, he always shared with his fellow cast outs. They deserved a meal as much as he did.

The end was near for the bird, its breathing slowing. "You can rest now, freund." Kurt whispered. "You're not alone, I promise you. Not only am I here, but so is He."

The bird's breathing stopped, becoming fully limp in his hands. A part of Kurt ached, if he hadn't been here the creature would have died alone, on the steps of the church. On second thought, he chalked it up to God purposefully doing this.

"I wish I understood You." He muttered to himself, "but perhaps that was the sin of Adam and Eve."

He slowly rose, little friend in tow, and soon smoke and the stench of brimstone was left in his place. He teleported not too far off, into the thin woods behind all the buildings of the city. He scanned the area for a decent spot of soft soil. Beneath a withering tree, he found it. With one hand, he slowly clawed out a hole, about a foot deep and only a football in size. Gently, ever so, he lowered the pigeon into the soft dirt.

Kurt pulled his rosary from his pocket, clutching it tightly as he bowed his head, praying. He was still for a moment, the silence of the wilderness, a harsh juxtaposition to the city, filled his ears. He then carefully scooped the disturbed soil over the small grave.

"You will be missed, little one, but you can rest now. You don't need to struggle any longer." He murmured.

Another puff of smoke, and he was behind his friends once again.

Scott took notice, especially with that all-too-familiar smell. "Kurt!" He said, a warm smile crinkled his nose. "Where have you been?"

"Oh, you know," Kurt began, sticking his hands in his coat pockets. His smile was forced a little, his mind still lingering on what just occurred. "Up to no good." He managed to chuckle.

No one thought anything of it, and continued on with their day of shopping. When they returned to the institute, Kurt mentioned his feathery friend in his nightly prayer before rolling into bed.

[charliespringsleftconverse]

Sweet Love Beneath The Christmas Tree - Chapter Two

Word Count: 3007 | Read on AO3

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Write's Notes: Here is Chapter Two of this little holiday trip! Can I just say, I also would like Azriel a man to put me on his shoulders so I can put the star on the tree?? What's a girl gotta dooooo! Anyway, hope you enjoy! @thevalkyriesshadow @acotargiftexchange

Warnings: This three-chapter story contains mature content such as smut in the third chapter. Reader discretion is advised. Age advisory 18+

The trunk of Rhysand’s sleek black Chevrolet Suburban overflowed with an impressive array of high-tech baby gear, a clear sign of new parenthood. She and Azriel fell into a comforting rhythm. They made quick work of unloading everything in just four trips. Once inside, they joined the others gathered around the inviting warmth of the fireplace. A train of elf shoes in every size and color was lined up in front of the hearth, while an array of musty socks—bright and bold—hung out to dry on the small brick step in front of the crackling warmth of the fire, to which Gwyn and Az added their own pairs.

Laughter and lively chatter filled the spacious open room with a ceiling high enough for a tiered ring chandelier to comfortably hold several layers of lighting. The rich, sweet scent of hot cocoa wafted from the kitchen and curled around them. Mor spritzed an apple pie air freshener, infusing the air to clear the room. In the kitchen, Emerie tended to a bubbling pot of hot chocolate, its chocolatey aroma mingling with the evergreen fragrance wafting from the elegantly adorned Christmas tree. For Gwyn, the moment felt like stepping into a postcard, a perfect snapshot of holiday cheer.

Nearby, Feyre and Rhysand stood side by side by the towering Christmas tree, framed by large glass windows that offered a dazzling view of their front yard, now transformed into a sparkling light show and a vibrant carnival. At their feet lay an old storage box brimming with ornaments, remnants of previous decorating efforts. One by one, Feyre and Rhys began filling in the few remaining empty spots on the tree that Nesta and Cassian had left earlier in the day. With all the preparations that had needed to be done throughout the day both inside and outside the house, the Christmas tree had been left partially decorated. Nevertheless, Feyre and Rhysand were content to pick up where the previous decorators had left off. 

The tree was adorned with sparkling lights from top to bottom and decorated with a blend of traditional nutcracker and ballerina ornaments, classic glittering Christmas ball ornaments, and souvenirs from individual travels from the group, including a small red and green trolley from Mor’s summer escapade in San Francisco last summer. Each ornament telling a story of its own. As they worked, the tree transformed into a radiant spectacle, a true testament to the joy and spirit of the season.

Though Gwyn had poured her festive spirit into the outdoor decorations, stuffing the yard with a delightful array of inflatables, she was still yearning for the chance to participate in something that felt truly special: decorating the Christmas tree in the living room. It was the one aspect of the holiday she had been eagerly anticipating. As she reached out for the final strand of garland—a beautifully crafted red rustic ribbon—she felt excitement bubbling inside her as she began to unwrap it.

“Here, let me help you with that garland,” said Azriel. His deep and warm voice came from behind Gwyn as he reached around her body, helping her unravel the ribbon. Being 6 feet tall had its advantages for Azriel, one of them being he could stand behind Gwyn and still see over her head. “Unless you want to end up tangled in it again."

Gwyn paused, soaking in his presence as he enveloped her, his chest pressing against her back. She peered up at him and chuckled, feeling completely at ease. She loved everything about this moment—his body wrapped around hers, the scent of Christmas in the air, and the sense of family with everyone she loved in the room. If she could capture this feeling, this sense of belonging and joy, in a photograph, a tiny bottle, or even in her mind forever, this moment would have been it. “Oh, now you’re just teasing me.”

Azriel bent down and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. It sent delightful sparks down Gwyn’s body and ignited her with warmth. 

Pulling the string from his fingers inch by inch, Gwyn took a step forward from Azriel’s embrace and began walking around the tree wrapping the garland. Azriel mirrored her and walked in the opposite direction around the tree, concentrating on the high branches that Gwyn couldn’t quite reach.

In the cosy living space, Rhysand and Feyre had joined Nesta and Cassian on the soft, enormous L-shaped champagne-colored sofa that occupied most of the living room. It was big enough to fit every single one of them on it, and it had many times. Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Emerie and Mor were pouring hot chocolate into the festive-themed mugs that decorated the cabinets. For the most part, the mugs were decorative pieces, but once a year they would serve their true purpose and hold hot cocoa.

“I hadn’t even realized we were missing the star,” said Feyre, her head on her husband’s shoulder.

“I think it got lost last year after the boys took it into town on New Year's,” Mor replied without glancing up from her work. A popping sound came from the kitchen, yet not a single head turned. 

“I want what you’re having!” Yelled Nesta from the sofa. Mor was undoubtedly spiking her own drink with something from the bar.

Cassian and Rhysand exchanged glances as if communicating telepathically.

Do you have the start topper? 

No. 

Did we leave it at the bar? 

Oh shit. Didn’t we place it on the town Christmas tree while drunk? 

No, that was before we went to the bar and I know I carried that in—

“Found it!” Holding high for everyone to see, in her right hand Gwyn held a big bright golden star-shaped tree topper. It glimmered and sparkled even brighter beneath the lights of the glowing chandelier. Lights reflected off it and danced across the room like tiny dancing fairies as she turned the tree topper.

A collective sigh of relief was felt in the room.

“Alright, let’s get it up there before it goes missing again.” Azriel declared, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. 

“Let me get a step stool,” Gwyn suggested as she turned toward the kitchen.

“You don’t need a step stool,” Azriel replied, stopping her in her tracks. He turned her toward the tree and knelt behind her.

“What are you—” 

Gently nudging her legs apart with his hands and head Azriel was quick with his movements. Soon after, Gwyn found herself on his shoulders. Her feet instinctively wrapped around him wherever they could, and her hands grasped the top of his head for balance. After a moment, feeling a bit more stable, she relaxed into his touch when his hands came around her legs. Gwyn could feel her cheeks warming—she wasn't sure if it was the lights shining down on her or the surprise of the moment that was making her blush.

Azriel continued rubbing his hands up and down her legs. She was still cold from being outside, and that friction felt good. Trying not to think about heights, she focused on his touch. “You’re not going anywhere, Gwyn. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

Gwyn took in a breath and giggled. “Ready.”

Azriel walked toward the tree, getting as close as he could for Gwyn’s torso to reach the placement point. Hands shifted higher, moving gradually closer to her thighs. In response, Gwyn squeezed his head slightly, but his grip remained steady. She instinctively sat up straighter, coming closer to the back of his head. Gwyn bit her lip, momentarily losing her focus. Breathe, and just focus.

Stretching her hand out, Gwyn reached toward the tree. Almost there… Her body let out a huff when she missed. Just a little to the left next time. She just needed to focus and stretch out a little more. Taking a breath in, Gwyn gave it another try. This time she felt Azriel’s thumbs rubbing circles on her thighs. Was it soothing? Yes. Was it distracting? Also, yes. Unclear what his goal was, Gwyn nudged him with her foot. 

Azriel chuckled. He was certainly being intentional and now Gwyn knew for certain.

“I’m trying to focus, you know,” Gwyn whispered.

“Am I distracting you? I thought I was helping,” said Az, low enough for the two to hear. She could hear his smile through his voice.

“I can’t concentrate when you do that,” she whispered.

Azriel hummed.

“You’re very lucky I love you,” Gwyn said.

Gwyn nudged him again with her foot before focusing back on the tree. With another big stretch, the star was back on the tree. Perfect. The Christmas tree was finally decorated from head to toe, figuratively speaking. Patting her on the leg, Azriel gently placed Gwyn on the ground and they headed towards the sofa with the rest of the group. 

“There’s glitter in my hair, on my clothes, and somehow, in my hot chocolate,” said Nesta. 

“I figured you all might need a little pick me up or just something warm in your body,” said Emerie handing Gwyn a mug in the shape of a Christmas tree. Sitting right next to her was Nesta holding a mug in the shape of Rudolph the red-nose reindeer. The kitchen cabinet had always been full of holiday coffee cups, courtesy of Rhysand’s mother, who had started the tradition of buying interestingly shaped mugs once a year during the winter. Now, they just drank from them. Rhysand had mentioned once that, according to his mother, a holiday house could never be too cheerful or cheerful enough. Hence, the excess of cups of cheer.

“The sun should be setting soon. Are you all headed to the village as Mr and Mrs Claus and the elves? Or as normal civilians?” said Rhysand. His violet eyes glanced at each member of the North Pole, one by one truly taking the time to admire the costuming. Rhys chuckled. There was not an ounce of doubt in his body that the outfits had been Mor’s idea. Ever since her time as an Alpha Phi in college, she’d always been one to coordinate outfits and ‘glam it up’ when she could. And this certainly had her name written all over it.

“Are you going to act like you don’t know us if we do?” Cassian smiled.

“I considered it,” said Rhysand with a chuckle.

“As much as I want to keep the spirit of Christmas alive, I’m sure I can still do that in normal clothes. Plus, I would love to take this off,” said Cassian. He pointed to the green vibrant tights that molded around his muscular calves and thighs. “It’s a little too tight for my liking.” 

“Hear hear,” said Azriel, lifting his glass and taking a sip. Pushing himself off the sofa, Azriel struggled to stand straight. He stretched out his legs and wiggled his feet, but something felt off. He placed his cup to the side for safekeeping. Taking one step forward, he felt a brief pain shoot to his ankle. Maybe he just needed to give his body a good shake. He had just been working outside in the cold for roughly two hours, and sitting down might have stiffened his body more than expected. 

Everyone else, save Feyre, Rhysand, and Gwyn had stayed behind. Upstairs, the others could be heard from the shuffling of feet and the opening and closing of doors as they set off to get ready and change into more comfortable and warm clothes. 

“Everything alright, Az?” asked Rhysand. 

“I, uh. Yeah.” Azriel furrowed his eyebrows looking down at his foot. He glanced back at Rhys and shrugged. “I think I’m just a bit stiff from all the work and then warming up by the fire.”

Rhys nodded.

“You could just need to warm up your muscles again,” suggested Gwyn.

“Maybe,” said Azriel. 

He attempted to rotate his ankle one way and then the other. It felt okay. Gently placing his left foot back on the floor, he made sure not to put too much pressure on it. Taking his time, Azriel began placing more of his natural body weight on it. It felt fine. Az let out a breath. At least it’s not broken, he thought. If it had been broken he would have been yelping from the pain by now. Feeling a bit more confident, he decided to take a step forward. That’s when he felt it. Immediately holding onto the sofa, he placed all his weight on his other foot. Gwyn and Rhys were up and out of their chairs in seconds. 

“It hurts to place my full body weight into it,” said Azriel. Both of his hands were on the sofa as he slowly lifted his foot and gently rotated it to alleviate some of the pain. 

“Sit down and let me take a look,” said Rhysand. His voice was firm but still showed concern. As soon as Azriel was seated, Rhysand knelt and lifted Az’s foot. He was slow when inspecting, in case there were any additional injuries. 

“Can you rotate it?” asked Rhys. Watching as Azriel did so, Rhys nodded and murmured to himself. He then began adding pressure with his hands and fingers across Azriel’s foot asking if the fluctuating pressure hurt, to which Azriel shook his head.

“Nothing too serious. Just a sprained ankle,” said Rhys as he stood. “That leg needs to be off the ground for a bit.”

The room was quiet for a bit.

Gwyn could feel the disappointment in the silence. She knew Azriel was a man of few words but she also knew that he didn’t want to miss out on the tradition of going into town on Christmas Eve to see the lights. Placing her hand on Azriel’s, Gwyn smiled. There was always space for new traditions. “I’ll stay with you.”

“Gwy—”

“I’m staying. We’ll drink cocoa, I’ll make cookies, and we’ll watch a holiday movie. Just you and me.” Gwyn tucked a strand of coppery hair behind her ear and gave Azriel a genuine smile. She could tell that Azriel didn’t want to be the reason she stayed behind, but Gwyn didn’t mind. They had the entire trip to go into town. It wasn’t like the holiday decorations in the town center were going to be taken down overnight. They’d be able to see the light show from now until the start of the new year. “Plus, who knows when the house will be quiet again. Or did you forget how many people there’s going to be here for the holiday?”

Azriel sighed. She was right, they would be living with about seven extra people who would be making noise, likely until late in the night for the next few days. There was no getting around Gwyn when her mind was set. “You’re right, and I do think it would be nice to spend time together. Just promise me you won’t put on Elf.”

“The Santa Clause?”

“Only if we watch The Santa Clause 2.”

“It’s my favorite anyway,” said Gwyn, a bright smile on her lips. With a kiss on the cheek, she was off to the kitchen to start baking cookies. Luckily, Emerie had stocked up on sugar cookies and chocolate chip cookies on her trip to the store. Gwyn much preferred these frozen delights that could be popped right into the oven over the ones in the ready-made section of the bakery. For some reason, the ready-made ones always tasted like paper to Gwyn. Had she been at home, Gwyn would have considered making cookies from Scratch but such luxury would have to wait.

After adjusting the oven to an adequate temperature, Gwyn began prepping the baking tray with an aluminum lining and buttering it before layering it with a mix of sugar and traditional chocolate chip cookie dough.

“Why are you making cookies, Gwyn? We’re about to leave,” said Emerie as she popped into the kitchen.

With a spoonful of cookie dough in her mouth, she mumbled, “Az can’t go.”

“Why not?” Emerie asked, confusion dancing in her eyes.

“He hurt himself,” Gwyn explained covering her mouth as she downed another spoonful of delicious chocolate chip cookie dough.

“Why am I not surprised? I specifically TOLD him to use the goddamn ladder when getting off the roof. Did he listen? No!” Mor stomped down the stairs. Azriel slid further down on the sofa shielding his face with a pillow at the sound of her voice afraid she’d chuck a heel at him. Sure enough, he had been warned numerous times.

“She’s going to sing that tune all weekend, brother,” Cassian said, patting Azriel on the back.

“Do you want us to bring you something from the town?” asked Nesta.

“No, but thank you,” Azriel replied.

“I wasn’t asking you. I was asking your girlfriend who kindly volunteered to stay behind, I imagine, given that she’s baking cookies for you both,” said Nesta, zipping up her gray jacket and looking back at Gwyn, awaiting a response.

“Ouch.” Cassian chuckled, tugging on his fleece chestnut gloves. 

Biting the inside of her lip, Gwyn tried to stifle her laughter and shook her head. She could have asked for a woodcarved pegasus for her bookshelf or apple cider donuts—her favorites. They were a soft, sweet treat that she could only find during this specific time of the year. Her mouth watered at the thought. Tempting, so tempting. The reality was, she wanted to experience the holiday village and markets herself. It simply wasn’t the same otherwise. Besides, there was always tomorrow. “I’m good, but thank you, Nes.”

“I’m gonna bring you something anyway,” said Nesta winking as she walked out the door. 

Gwyn chuckled. “Love you, Nesta!”

“We’ll be back late. Don’t burn the house,” Rhysand warned. He was joking, right? Waving goodbye to Gwyn, he closed the door on his way out. Gwyn waved back with one arm as she placed the tray of cookies inside the oven. He doesn’t actually think I could burn the house…does he?

[mattness]

useful things

Summary: Who knew that in the basements of abandoned houses there are such interesting and very useful things?

Characters: Sylvia Amarië/Astarion Ancunin

Genres: PWP, Humor, Romantic, Fluff

18+

Sorry for stupid mistakes in my translation, but anyway... Have fun reading!

There is full of abandoned basements and long-looted houses in Rivington. But despite this, they still managed to find precious stones or things that could be sold to local merchants. Money and good equipment were sorely lacking. However, she didn't really care about gold when she came across a good book on magic or other useful things among the old dusty junk.

In another basement of an abandoned house, where they had climbed under the pretext of helping some fool find an old magic lamp where gin was supposedly sitting, Sylvia was carefully examining a bookshelf. The shelves were covered with a thick layer of dust. Thin strands of cobwebs stretched from one book to another. Some of the spines have faded paint. Running her finger over them, Sylvia suddenly stopped at a book in a velvet burgundy cover with no title. Curiosity was immediately aroused. She opened the book. The pages have long faded and turned yellow. The ink is worn in places, but, in general, the text can be read. The elf's pointed ears instantly turned red. There was a blush on her cheeks. Scrolling to the very beginning, she was surprised when she saw the title, but she didn't really have time to read anything in more detail, hearing Shadowheart's voice.

“Did you find something?”

“No”, Sylvia said, slamming the book shut. A pile of dust hit her right in the face, unpleasantly tickling her nose. “Nothing special, some junk”, she muttered, sneezing loudly the next minute.

“God bless you, sweetheart”, Astarion's voice rang out from the other end of the basement. “I don't understand why the hell we have to rummage around here. That idiot probably lied to us about the lamp. Because if I were crooks and scoundrels, I would have stolen this lamp and sold it long ago. Before that, of course, using all the desires.”

“Well, he said that no one robbed the house. Only the ghosts came from somewhere”, added Gale, who was rummaging through a shelf with flasks and bottles.

While they chatted casually among themselves, Sylvia carefully stuffed the old book into her backpack, hoping that no one would notice and discover the strange find later. After a little theft, it became an impossible task to focus on finding the gin lamp. Her thoughts kept returning to the book in her backpack, waiting for Sylvia's curious nose to poke into it again. Fortunately, Shadowheart found the lamp, noticing it in a pile of junk next to a bookshelf. However, it turned out to be the same pile of junk, and no genie appeared in front of them when Astarion rubbed the edge of the rusty metal.

They returned the lamp to the unfortunate old man and received the desired money, after which they went to the camp. Dusk fell on the outskirts of the Lower City. A cool wind was blowing from the sea. Sylvia quickly retreated to her tent. There was plenty of time before dinner, so she couldn't wait to get back to the stolen book.

«Notes on pleasures and other love tips for the inhabitants of Faerûn» — that's what the book was called. Sylvia, who knew quite a bit about these very pleasures due to the lack of normal experience, flipped through the pages with the curiosity of a child and felt her cheeks blush every now and then. The author described in detail various caresses and ways how you can give pleasure not only to yourself, but also to your partner. She was reading excitedly, already wanting to check out some things on Astarion, but suddenly her purple eyes caught on a paragraph almost in the middle of the book. Her eyebrows rose in surprise. Cheeks instantly flushed, and the question arose in her head: "Is it possible?", and then another one: "Why didn't I figure it out earlier?"

She hunched over, buried her nose in the book, trying to absorb all the details and remember exactly what to do and how to do it. Without teeth, so as not to cause discomfort. Take your time to prolong the pleasure. Do not forget about the control. Control? Sylvia was embarrassed. It was hardly possible to think of any control in such a situation... If just the thought of it caused such a violent reaction now, then it's scary to imagine what it would be like for her directly in action.

“Are you going to eat?” Jaheira's voice rang out next to the tent.

“Yeah, yeah, now”, Sylvia muttered, but the book had to be immediately slammed shut and hidden under the pillow, because the tent flap opened. Jaheira looked at her reproachfully. “What?”

“Not "yeah, yeah, now," but now. Although we don't know each other very well, I've already thoroughly studied your habit of ignoring meals because of reading books.”

“Mo-om”, Sylvia drawled sarcastically, which made Jaheira snort. “I'm coming.”

Near the campfire where everyone was gathered, she sat down next to Astarion. They exchanged playful glances, and Sylvia poked him lightly on the shoulder. With a grin, he handed her the bowl of soup that Shadowheart had made.

As usual, the conversation was about anything but their most important problem — the tadpole in their heads and the fight against the Absolute. In the evenings, when their strength was running out, they all wanted to relax and not think about the worries that the coming day would bring.

After dinner, Sylvia clung to Astarion's palms and followed him as he led her to his tent. The only thing that bothered her was Gale's tent nearby. As if there wasn't enough free space. She smiled stupidly at the wizard, who noticed them, but didn't react in any way, and sat down on the pillows while Astarion methodically lit candles on a small table. They chatted casually for a couple of hours before bedtime, sometimes interrupting for gentle glances and touches. And with each gentle kiss, she was more and more impatient to come to him at night to conduct a little experiment. However, her stupid shyness didn't allow her to even hint at what dirty thoughts were on her mind.

Just as Sylvia was about to leave, she turned around and tilted her head to one side when Astarion, lounging impressively on the pillows, asked:

“Will I come to you tonight, Sisi?”

“Sure.” She nodded, and then added softly, “Are you hungry?”

“Madly.”

Sylvia, grinning, silently went to her tent.

Desire was slowly but surely creeping up. It inflamed her from the inside, and the book only enhanced the effect. In the tent, she plopped down on a bedroll, enthusiastically reading on and learning more and more details. Biting her lips, Sylvia wondered how it would go, would she ruin their evening with her inept attempts to diversify their leisure time, or would it be one of the best nights?.. Some excitement mixed with anticipation gripped her mind. Waiting only spoils everything. Thoughts were confused in her head, and vulgar images made her squeeze her knees together. At one point, she was ready to lean out of the tent and loudly call Astarion to her. Fortunately, he had already looked in, smiling slyly.

Noticing the book in her hands, he got closer and asked:

“What are you reading?”

Biting her lower lip, she held out the book. Astarion's curious gaze immediately began to study the text. After a moment, a sly grin appeared on his face. Ruby eyes twinkled slyly.

“You're a little mischief, Sisi”, he whispered hoarsely and ran his finger along her chin. Sylvia blushed. “Where did you get this?”

“In that old man's house.”

Astarion raised his eyebrows in surprise. He flipped through a few pages and read it again. Sylvia rested her chin on his shoulder.

“You're not only a mischief, but you're also a bad girl”, he added after a minute, and embarrassed laughter filled the silence. “Who did you get all this from? Hm?”

“I have no idea”, she smiled playfully. Taking the book out of his hands, Sylvia flipped to the right page and timidly admitted, “I want to try this.” Astarion, seeing only one name, chuckled. He doesn't need to read the descriptions and other details. Perhaps this book has nothing to offer him at all. He's too knowledgeable.

Sylvia put down the book, and Astarion stared at her for a long time.

“And how strong is your desire to try?”

After a moment's hesitation, she bent down and gently touched her lips to his neck, where the scar from the bite was. The hot tongue left a wet mark on the skin near the earlobe. Astarion laughed at the slight tickle.

“I really want to make you feel good”, her breath burned his ear. Her fingers gently slid down his neck to the collar of his shirt. Astarion looked into violet eyes full of desire and mischievous curiosity. “Of course, I have no experience at all, but I really want to try everything new with you.”

“How badly I influence you, darling”, Astarion grinned and kissed her on the lips. Sylvia mumbled languidly in response. “But who am I to stop you?”

The next wet kiss almost drove them crazy. Sylvia settled confidently on his hips, feeling how his cold palms immediately got under the fabric of her thin shirt. Goosebumps slid up her back to her neck. She exhaled into Astarion's lips, who pulled her closer to him, placing his palm possessively on her ass.

Without further ado, they leisurely stripped each other of their clothes. With each kiss and touch, Sylvia became more confident. Desire overwhelmed her. And tonight she completely took the initiative into her own hands, and Astarion obediently gave in and patiently waited for what she would do next.

Gently pushing him in the shoulders, she forced him to lie down on the pillows, and she began to make a path of kisses from his chin to his stomach. Methodically and enthusiastically. She enjoyed every inch of his cold, pale skin. The relief of the muscles made her head spin, and a knot tightened in the lower abdomen, requiring discharge. But Sylvia tried to remember what was written in the book, and enthusiastically continued to caress first Astarion's chest, and then his stomach.

His breathing became ragged and hoarse. Soft moans softly touched her ears. Sylvia circled his navel with her tongue and finally began to descend lower until she came across the fabric of his pants.

The besotted gaze of the purple eyes met his playful one.

Astarion, propping himself up on his elbows, watched with special delight as her deft fingers pulled his pants down along with his underpants. She did it carefully, taking her time. Her hands were shaking a little, just like on their very first night. Her excitement didn't allow her to act decisively. Sylvia tossed his pants and underpants aside and suddenly smiled shyly at him. At the last moment, she hesitated, not knowing how to begin.

“You don't have to do this if you don't want to, Sisi”, Astarion said gently, seeing her hesitation. “We can—”

“No. I want to”, she ran her hands over his hips, “just... a little shy.”

He lay back down on the pillows with his hands behind his head.

“Do not rush. You have the whole night before dawn. Maybe your shyness will pass”, he grinned teasingly, and Sylvia, wrinkling her nose, poked him in the side with her finger. “Ouch!”

The look of ruby eyes crossed with violet ones, in which truly devilish sparks danced. Astarion couldn't help but chuckle, and then bit his lower lip as she bent down again and began to cover his lower abdomen with kisses. Sylvia tried to push away all her embarrassment and excitement. Lines from the book popped into her head. Need to be braver. It must be remembered that Astarion will definitely like it. So she pulled back a little, took his aroused flesh in her hand and ran her palm along it a couple of times. In response, there was a languid moan, spurring to more confident caresses.

Sylvia's ears and cheeks were burning with excitement. She ran her tongue along the trunk, feeling how this minor action excited her more, and made Astarion exhale. Another groan rang out throughout the tent. Sylvia took his cock in her mouth and slowly began to move. Finally, the embarrassment receded, and there was nothing left but a burning desire to bring him to intoxicating ecstasy.

Sylvia pulled back to catch her breath. She looked at him blearily and smiled seductively, licking her lips. His chest was heaving heavily. His face was filled with languor, and his eyes shone with bliss. Astarion smiled at her, whispering:

“Don't worry, Sisi, I love it.”

Sylvia bent down, ran her tongue over the head and took the penis back into her mouth, acting more confidently, accelerating. Her fingers gripped his thigh. Everything was burning between her legs, and she wanted to be in a different position as soon as possible. To feel him inside. But she reminded herself with every friction that she needed to please him.

Suddenly, Astarion's soft, confused whisper began to reach her pointy ears. Her name was repeated over and over again, like a mantra. The moans grew louder and longer. His fingers dug into her golden curls, which tickled his hips slightly with every movement.

Instantly, the world around him ceased to exist. She concentrated on the rhythm, which she set herself, closing her eyes. Her heart was pounding loudly in her chest. Astarion's moans, like the most beautiful music in the world, caressed her ears. The knot in her lower abdomen tightened, demanding immediate release, but she tried to ignore her own desire until the last moment.

“Sisi, my sweet...” he whispered haltingly, and pressed his palm a little harder on the back of the elf's head, gathering her golden hair into a fist. “Yes... That's so good...”

Another moan, full of pleasure, escaped from his lips, and it seemed to be heard far beyond the tent. However, the pleasure is so great that Astarion didn't care at all if anyone else would hear them. Pleasant cramps passed through his muscles, causing the body to tremble as Sylvia accelerated. The highest point of ecstasy was inexorably approaching.

“Baby, wait”, Astarion breathed, and Sylvia somehow forced herself to pull away. Her cheeks were flushed, as were her ears, and her lips were seductively shiny. Her gaze is wild, besotted. Just the sight of her right now could drive him crazy. Astarion found the strength and sat down to pull her to him by the neck, biting into her lips with a passionate kiss. It was strange to feel his own taste, but Astarion didn't disdain. He only moaned again when he felt her palm on his cock throbbing with excitement. A few more movements brought him to orgasm. Astarion shuddered as he came. His sweet moan filled the entire tent. His heart skipped a beat.

Sylvia pulled back and looked into his eyes, full of true pleasure.

“Well, did I manage?” she asked slyly in a whisper. She wiped her hand, stained with his seed, on the blanket. Astarion took a deep breath with a blissful groan and smiled.

“It's not bad for the first time, darling”, he pronounced the verdict, as if he were a judge in a tournament, and pulled her to him, sitting her on his hips, which were still trembling a little from the pleasure he received. Sylvia ran her hands over his shoulders, which were covered with beads of sweat. “But practice doesn't hurt.”

She laughed softly.

“You're burning up”, Astarion whispered. His hand slid down her back and slowly moved to her stomach. Sylvia bit her lower lip and pressed her forehead against his. Another timid groan rang through the tent. Astarion's fingers shamelessly slid between her legs, starting to caress her clitoris. “Do you want me, Sisi?”

“Yeah”, she breathed languidly, “badly.”

The next moment, she was on the blanket, pinned down by the weight of Astarion's body, who didn't think to stop for a second. His persistent caresses and kisses made her heart beat faster, and moans burst from her lips again and again. Sylvia lost herself in an overwhelming languor, and she could have sworn that she had never experienced anything better before.

It got hot. Her breath was coming in short gasps. Her cheeks were burning again. A slight tremor ran through her entire body as Astarion showered her lower abdomen and spread her legs wider, digging his nails into the skin of her thighs. He wasn't going to leave her without a reward for such zeal. A hot tongue slid between Sylvia's wet labia, and she shuddered again, moaning.

It didn't take much effort to bring her to orgasm. Astarion watched with special delight as she arched and moaned loudly, for once not shy about being heard. Then, breathing heavily, she relaxed and met his gaze with red, full of passion, eyes.

To top it off, Astarion showered with kisses on the inside of her thighs and only then hovered over her, biting into her swollen lips. Sylvia groaned again. Hands settled on his back, gently stroking the scarred skin.

“I hope you will continue to read this book”, Astarion smiled maliciously, touching her nose with his in a chaste kiss. Sylvia giggled softly. “I really love your eagerness to experiment.”

“I'm ready to explore everything inside and out, just to please you”, she whispered and stroked his chest with her palm.

“You're just precious thing. Well, did you catch your breath?” he asked slyly, and Sylvia raised her eyebrows in surprise. The next moment, another groan filled the tent. The elf smiled languidly. A hot whisper burned her ear: “I suggest we do without experiments now and repeat the old-fashioned way.”

Of course, she didn't refuse and with great pleasure responded to a new passionate kiss, while the book, which had been found completely by accident, lay somewhere at their feet and waited in the wings. Who knew that in the basements of abandoned houses there are such interesting and very useful things.

[here-am-i-sitting-in-a-tin-can]

At Peace.

warnings: mentions of blood, scars, death, alcohol, lmk if I missed any

summary: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance

They say there are five stages of grief;…

Everyone was sitting around the Potters’ coffee table, playing scrabble when it happened. Through the open window, an owl swooped in. The fat brown bird dropped a letter in Sirius’ lap and flew out through the front door again. The room was quiet. Lily was the first to tear her eyes away from where the owl had left and looked back at Sirius. 

“What is it?”

He stared down at the white envelope in his hands and sighed softly. Then, he turned it over.

Mr. S. O. Black The living room Potter Manor Godric’s Hollow 

…denial,…

Clack. One of the scrabble pieces clattered onto the hard wood floor, breaking the deafening silence.

‘…sorry to inform you that your brother, Mr. Regulus A. Black, passed away last night…’

No. That can’t be true. 

There must be some kind of mistake.

No, Regulus isn’t dead.

“C’mon, what is it?” James’ voice almost made Sirius jump if it wasn’t for Remus’ hand on his shoulder. 

“Nothing,” he replied quickly and stuffed the letter back into the envelope. “Just… y’know, work… stuff.”

The others simply nodded.

“…we’d better get going,” Sirius added, nudging his boyfriend. “It’s getting late.” 

The two exchanged a look and Remus nodded. 

“He’s right, we should get going.”

…anger,…

Sirius’ back hit the wall as he stumbled backwards. He took a deep breath and looked at the pieces of wood and glass spread across the floor of his childhood home.

This time he was the one throwing curses. Ironic, wasn’t it? He had almost laughed aloud if it wasn’t for the piercing pain in his chest. 

And his hand. Blood trickled onto the carpet, but this time, he couldn’t care less.

Grimmauld Place 12 felt rather empty as Sirius ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at it, but the pain he could inflict on himself didn’t compare to his aching heart.

“Why him? It’s not bloody fair!”

Sirius’ throat was hoarse from yelling as he sat down on the cold wooden stairs. 

“Master-“ 

The house elf stopped dead in his tracks and turned around to leave the room as quietly as possible. Sirius swallowed thickly. 

“Where is he?” He asked quietly, just before Kreacher could leave. “Regulus, where is he?” 

Regulus. Reg. Reggie. His baby brother Regulus. After years of not using the word, it left a bittersweet taste on his tongue.

“Kreacher swore not to tell-“

“Where the fuck is he?” Sirius shouted. “Tell me!”

…bargaining,…

Why’s it not me?

Why can’t it be someone else?

Why’s it not Bella or Cissy? Someone I don’t care about?

All those thoughts filled his head as he covered his ears with his hands and curled up on the green bedsheets. The golden sign on the door still read the initials ‘R. A. B.’.

…depression…

Sirius didn’t know how long he had sat there, in his brother’s room, staring at the letter form the Ministry, before he heard the front door open. He was sitting on the bed, his back against the wall. Hot tears were running down his face, a bit of his own blood had stained his once snow white button down and the paper in his shaking hands, just like his parents’ expensive liquor had stained the tapestry after he’d thrown the even more expensive looking bottle at the wall.

“Sirius?” 

Remus’ voice echoed through the empty hall. The heavy door slammed shut behind him. Sirius didn’t answer. He didn’t know if he could even talk if he tried. He mentally cursed himself for being so careless with the glass. The blood on his hand had dried, it would form a scar later. 

“Love?”

Sirius sighed as Remus called out for him again. He let his head fall back against the wall and closed his eyes.

“In here,” he managed to choke out through the tears. 

Sirius felt as though he was sitting in a puddle of sorrow. It filled his lungs and poured out of his eyes, a thick black liquid, impossible to get rid of. 

…and acceptance.

Not one, not two or three years after that evening at the Potters’ was there a day Sirius didn’t think of his brother. 

But it didn’t hurt anymore. There were no more thick black cloths covering every mirror in the flat. Seeing Regulus’ when he looked at his own face didn’t hurt Sirius anymore, even though he saw his brother’s eyes stare back at him when he bent over the sink to wash his hands. 

No, he smiled when he noticed what else he had in common with his little brother. He loved that they had the same nose and chin, the same eye colour, the same hair, the mole above his eyebrow.

He just wished that bloody house elf would tell him what happened so he could finally be at peace.