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unconventional-lawnchair · 1 month ago

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Hello! Could you do a Barty Crouch Jr. x Fem! Potter! Reader.

Where they are both in Ravenclaw and get close and end up dating in secret because of the Slytherins and the marauders. But then something happens and they break up but Barty shows up at the readers house years later to warn her about Harry, James, and Lily. They rekindle (smut if you write it. Or leads to that?)

And I was thinking about two different endings.

Ending 1: The reader later finds out she’s pregnant and has to raise their child on her own until the triwizard tournament where their child meets their father?

Ending 2: The reader goes to godric hollow that night to try to help them but ends up dying and Barty finds her and holds her?

Or if you like both you can do two different Barty x reader!

Love your fics by the way and I am Hooked to the series!!

Making Mistakes

Barty Crouch Junior x Potter!RavenClaw!Reader

Summary: (See above) After a horrible break up in 7th year, Barty and you haven't spoken a word to eachother. Then, he comes barrelling back into your life begging for forgiveness, will you trust him?

Wc: 16.8k

CW: Angst Heavy. Hurt/Comfort, Barty and the reader are messssy. Sexual themes and scenes. Mom!Reader, AFAB!Reader, Dad!Barty, Non canon complacent, The first part of the fanfiction is focused on the reader- second is focused on Ophelia(your daughter).

The Potter Manor, once warm and full of life, now felt cold and empty. The high ceilings and ornate decorations that had once felt grand now only magnified the silence. The vibrant reds and golds of your family crest seemed muted, much like the life that had once filled these halls.

Your brother, James, was hiding somewhere even you couldn't name- hardly able to visit outside of special occasions. Your parents had been gone for over a year. The house was far too big, far too quiet, and far too lonely. It wasn’t just the emptiness of the space itself- it was the absence of the people who had made it a home. You’d told yourself that time would help, but the grief lingered, stubborn and heavy, refusing to fade.

Even now, curled up on the couch in the living room- the one you used to complain was too cramped- you felt the space around you stretch endlessly. With a blanket over your knees, the fireplace crackling softly, and a book resting on your lap, it should have felt cozy. Instead, it felt hollow. You ran your fingers absentmindedly over the cover of your book, your other hand drifting to the necklace around your neck, the small charm resting just above your heart- a lone magpie.

It matched your patronus. Well, it matched what your patronus had become. Once, it had been a darling doe- calm and serene, a reflection of your regal- that's what Sirius had said. Now, it was the magpie: small, fierce, and energetic. It suited you, or at least the version of you that remained. You’d felt yourself change, slowly but surely, in the years you knew a love so dangerous it tore off parts of you that you no longer remmebered.

Your fingers traced the delicate charm as your thoughts wandered to the person who had given it to you. Barty. The weight of his name still felt the same, a complicated tangle of emotions that hadn’t untwisted no matter how much time passed.

You could still see his face the night you’d told him you couldn’t do it anymore. The way his sharp features had frozen, the defiance and anger creeping in as soon as the words left your mouth. You’d said you couldn’t keep hiding, couldn’t keep pretending that what you had didn’t matter. You’d told him you were tired of the stolen glances, the whispered promises, and the constant fear of being caught.

But you knew now that what had hurt him most wasn’t the ultimatum- it was the fear. Fear of admitting to the world what you meant to each other. Fear of what he might lose if he dared to love you openly. Fear that his world and yours were too different, too far apart to ever coexist.

Now, as you sat there in the flickering firelight, your thumb brushed over the charm, the memories tugging at your chest. The book on your lap remained unopened as you stared into the flames, the ache in your heart as familiar as the necklace around your neck.

~~~

The flickering candlelight painted Barty’s sharp features in gold and shadow as he lay beside you, his bare chest rising and falling steadily. The heat of your bodies still lingered in the cool air of the room, your skin damp against the soft sheets tangled around your legs. His fingers toyed with the charm resting against your collarbone, his touch so gentle it made your heart ache.

“Crow, can we talk?” You whispered, your voice soft but firm, breaking the fragile silence that had fallen between you.

Barty’s hand froze, his fingers brushing against the charm one last time before he let it fall against your chest. His jaw tightened, his green eyes refusing to meet yours as he shifted slightly, feigning casualness. “What’s there to talk about, birdie?” He murmured, his voice smooth but unconvincing. Unsatisfied your little exercise didn't make you truly forget what you intended to talk about. “We’re here. Together. Isn’t that enough?”

You sat up slightly, leaning on your elbow as you looked at him. “No,” You said softly, the word carrying more weight than you’d intended. “It’s not.”

He finally glanced at you, his expression guarded. “You’re overthinking again,” He said lightly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. “Can’t we just- can’t we just enjoy this?”

“Enjoy what?” You challenged, your voice trembling slightly. “Hiding? Pretending? Barty, we can’t keep doing this.”

He groaned softly, falling back onto the pillow and running a hand through his disheveled hair. “Why do you have to ruin the moment?” He muttered, though his voice lacked its usual sharpness. “We’re happy, aren’t we? Isn’t that what matters?”

“Are we happy?” You shot back, sitting up fully now, the blanket slipping from your shoulders. “Because I don’t feel happy, Barty. I feel like I’m suffocating.”

He sat up abruptly, his eyes narrowing as he fixed you with a desperate gaze. “Don’t say that,” He snapped, his voice rising slightly. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” You said firmly, though your voice broke slightly. “I love you, Barty, but I can’t keep pretending this is enough. I need more. I need us- the real us.”

“This is the real us,” He argued, his voice frantic now. He reached for you, his hand gripping your arm as if holding onto you could stop you from slipping away. “This is how we work, birdie. This is how we survive. You think the world would let us be together? You think they’d let us have this?”

“I don’t care what the world thinks,” You snapped, your own desperation rising to meet his. “I care about us. But this- this isn’t sustainable. We’re tearing each other apart, Barty.”

“Of course you don’t care,” He spat suddenly, his grip tightening as his green eyes blazed. “You wouldn’t. You’re a Potter. You come from your perfect Potter family with your perfect, golden life. You wouldn’t understand what it’s like to have a family like mine- to be a Crouch.”

His words cut deep, the bitterness in his tone like a slap. But you didn’t flinch. Instead, you stared at him, your voice steady as you said, “Don’t you dare.”

He blinked, startled by the fierceness in your tone. “What?”

“Don’t you dare use my family as an excuse to run from what you deserve,” You said, leaning closer. “Just because my parents loved me, just because James and I grew up with something good, doesn’t mean you don’t deserve that too.”

He scoffed, the sound bitter and sharp. “I don’t deserve that. Not with who I am. Not with my name.”

“Yes, you do,” You said fiercely, your hand finding his cheek, forcing him to look at you. “You deserve love, Barty. Real love. Not this shadow of it we’re living in. But you have to believe that, or none of this will ever work.”

He stared at you, trying to read your expression, his jaw so tight you swore you could hear ticking. His grip on you was bruising, but you ached for it. You ached for his want, his desperate need, because without it- you felt like you were falling apart.

You leaned into him, your once hot skin chilling against the air of the room. On instinct, his hands slipped away from your arm and he wrapped them around your waist. Your hands found his chest and you moved all that bit closer. “Wouldn't that be a dream, Barty?” You whispered, voice strained and tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “If- if our kids,” You choked out and his eyes widened at your admittance of something solid. That was your dream. To be so true, so real, that starting a family was the obvious next step. “Our kids talk about us how I talk about my parents? That our son- our daughter- our little wix. They knew what a love like ours could do.”

Your words hit Barty like a physical blow, and for a moment, he looked utterly stunned. His hands on your waist tightened instinctively, pulling you closer as though the sheer force of your desperation could tether him to the dream you had just dared to voice.

“Our kids,” He echoed, his voice hoarse and filled with something you couldn’t quite place- something between longing and disbelief. His wide eyes searched yours, as if trying to find the certainty he couldn’t feel within himself. “You really think… that we could have that?”

“I know we could,” You said, your voice trembling but resolute. “But only if you let us. Only if you stop running from it.”

He shook his head, his hands trembling where they gripped you. “You don’t get it, birdie,” He said, his voice breaking. “I’m not… I’m not good like you. Like your parents. I don’t know how to be that kind of person.”

“You think my parents were perfect?” You asked, your voice rising in frustration, shaking. “They weren’t saints, Barty. They argued, they made mistakes- but they never stopped trying. They never stopped fighting for what they believed in, for each other. And you can do that too.”

He let out a bitter laugh, the sound almost choking on its way out. “You don’t know what you’re asking. My family isn’t like yours, okay? My father only believes in appearances, in power. He’d never accept this- he’d never accept us. And if he found out…” He trailed off, his expression darkening as a shudder ran through him.

“I don’t care about your father,” You said fiercely, your hands cupping his face. “I care about you. And you’re not him, Barty. You’re not your father.”

His eyes closed at your words, as though they hurt to hear. “I don’t know how to believe that,” He admitted, his voice barely a whisper. “I’ve spent my whole life trying to be what he wants, and even that’s not enough. I don’t know how to be anything else.”

“You don’t have to be,” You said, your thumb brushing softly against his cheek. “You just have to be you. And you have to let yourself believe you deserve more than what he’s made you think you do.”

He opened his eyes then, and for a moment, you saw the cracks in his carefully built walls- the vulnerability he worked so hard to hide. “And what if I can’t?” He whispered. “What if I ruin us?”

“Then we fight through it,” You said, your voice firm even as tears threatened to spill. “We keep trying, just like my parents did. Just like I know we can. You don’t have to be perfect, Barty. You just have to let yourself love me.”

His breath slowed, his hands sliding up your back as he pulled you into a desperate embrace. His head dipped into the crook of your neck, and you felt the wetness of his tears against your skin. “I do love you,” He said, his voice raw. “I love you so much it hurts. It scares the hell out of me, birdie.”

“I know,” You murmured, your hands threading through his hair. “I know, Barty. But love isn’t supposed to be easy. It’s supposed to be worth it.”

For a moment, you thought he might let himself believe you. His arms around you felt solid, grounding, as though he was holding on to you for dear life. But then, just as quickly, he pulled back, his eyes filled with an anguish that made your chest ache.

“I don’t know if I can give you what you deserve,” he finally muttered, his voice trembling. “And I can’t bear the thought of failing you.”

“You’re not failing me,” You said, reaching for him, but he was already pulling away, retreating back behind the walls he had built to protect himself.

“I am,” He said, his voice cracking as he shook his head. Pushing you back and getting to his feet. “I already am.”

You watched, your heart shattering as he put on his clothes, back to you. Your eyes trailed the path your nails made against his back, your silent claim on him that he always begged you for. “Barty, Barty, please.” You sobbed out and you saw how stiff he grew. “Barty, my love.”

“I hear you, Birdie.” He whispered and buttoned up his shirt. Walking back to the bed, but staying out of reach from you. “Always such a beautiful song.” He whispered before he leaned in and stole a kiss. “I'm sorry.”

“Barty-” You strained and he kissed you again. Over and over until he managed to push you back against the bed.

“I love you Birdie.”

“Barty-”

“But I'm.. I'm not who you need.”

Your heart broke with every word that fell from his lips, each one chipping away at the fragile hope you'd tried to build between you.

“Don’t do this,” You whispered, your voice trembling as tears spilled freely down your cheeks. “Don’t say that, Barty. Don’t leave me like this.”

He closed his eyes as if shutting out the sight of you would make this easier, though you both knew it wouldn’t. “I have to,” He murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “If I stay, I’ll ruin you. I can’t do that, Birdie. I can’t be the reason you lose everything.”

“You are everything,” You choked out, grabbing his wrist in desperation as he made to pull away. “Can’t you see that? You’re what I choose, Barty. You’re what I want.”

His breath stopped at your words, and for a fleeting moment, you saw the war raging within him. His body was tense, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might shatter. But then he shook his head, his eyes meeting yours with a tortured finality.

“You deserve more,” His voice breaking as he leaned in to press one last kiss to your forehead. It lingered, soft and agonizingly final. “You deserve a love that doesn’t hurt like this.”

“I don’t care about perfect,” Your hands clutching at his shirt as though you could physically anchor him to you. “I care about you.”

He pried your hands off of him gently but firmly, his touch reverent even as it was devastating. “And I love you,” He said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But love isn’t always enough.”

You shook your head vehemently, trying to reach for him again, but he stepped back, his retreat like a knife slicing through the air between you. “Barty, please,” You begged, your voice breaking entirely now. “Please don’t do this.”

His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, his own tears threatening to spill, but then he turned away, his movements slow and deliberate, as if each step was a battle.

He paused at the door, his hand on the frame, his back still to you. “You’ll always be my song, Birdie,” He said quietly, the nickname a bittersweet ache on his tongue.

And then he was gone, leaving you alone in the room that still smelled of him, your heart breaking in the silence he left behind. The only sound was your sobs, muffled by the pillow you clutched to your chest, the magpie charm pressing cold against your skin- a painful reminder of what you’d just lost.

~~~

You gave a low shaken sigh. Trying to still your shattering heart and gather your voice before it all became too much again.

You looked up at the mantle above the fireplace, unable to stop the smile that curled on your lips. The photos, of your parents on their wedding day, of James’s first birthday, then yours. Then a photo of Lily and James’s wedding, of Harry’s first birthday- just three months ago.

You stared at the photographs for a long moment, your fingers tightening around the magpie charm at your neck. The smiles in the photos were so vivid, so full of joy, that it felt almost cruel. Your parents, James, Lily, even baby Harry- they were all looping so present in the frozen moments captured by the camera. Yet here you were, alone in the vast emptiness of the manor, the weight of their absence pressing down on you.

The photo of Harry’s first birthday caught your eye. His tiny hand reaching for the cake, James’s laughing face as Lily leaned in to kiss Harry’s cheek. You could almost hear the sound of their laughter echoing in the back of your mind, a memory you clung to desperately.

Your lips quirked into a faint smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “James would tell me to get up and stop being so dramatic,” You muttered to yourself, shaking your head. “He’d probably say something ridiculous like, ‘You’re a Potter, we don’t mope, we plot.’”

The thought of your brother’s mischievous grin brought a pang of longing. You missed him fiercely- his energy, his unrelenting optimism, and even the way he teased you mercilessly. James had always been your anchor, the one person who could pull you out of your darkest moments. But now he was miles away, hiding with Lily and Harry, fighting a war you couldn’t see but could feel in every corner of your being.

Your gaze drifted back to the fire, the flames dancing and crackling softly. The silence in the room felt deafening again, the weight of your solitude settling back over you. You tried to distract yourself by opening the book on your lap, but the words blurred together, meaningless against the storm of thoughts raging in your mind.

You closed the book with a frustrated sigh, setting it aside as you leaned back against the couch. Your fingers traced the magpie charm absently, your thoughts inevitably returning to him.

Barty.

His name echoed in your mind, and with it came a flood of memories- his rare, boyish smiles that he reserved just for you, the way his green eyes softened when he thought you weren’t looking, the way he held you like you were the only thing tethering him to the world.

You closed your eyes, letting out a shaky breath as the memory of his voice played in your mind:

A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it, and you quickly wiped it away. Crying wouldn’t bring him back. Crying wouldn’t change the way he’d walked out of your life, no matter how much it hurt.

But Merlin, did it hurt.

The knock at the door startled you from your thoughts, the sound sharp and sudden against the heavy silence of the manor. You froze for a moment, your heart leaping to your throat as dread washed over you. The wards. You reminded yourself of the countless layers of protection James and Lily had insisted upon. No one with ill intent could step foot near the manor. Still, it took you a moment to move.

Your fingers tightened around your cardigan as you approached the door, peering cautiously through the window. Relief and confusion mingled as you saw Remus standing there, holding a bundle of flowers and looking chilled down to the bone.

You couldn’t help the way your lips curved into a smile, the first genuine one in what felt like weeks. Remus always had that effect on you, with his quiet strength and steady presence. You opened the door without hesitation, the chill of the winter evening brushing against your skin as you pulled him inside.

“Remus!” You laughed, wrapping your arms around him tightly before he could say a word. The flowers in his hands crinkled against your shoulder, and he let out a low, startled chuckle.

“Hello to you too,” He murmured, his arms coming around you after a brief hesitation. His embrace was warm and grounding, and for a moment, you let yourself rest in the safety of his hold. He cradled you like you were something fragile, something he was afraid might break if he squeezed too tightly.

When you finally pulled back, his sharp eyes roamed your face, scanning for any cracks in the mask you hadn’t realized you’d been wearing. “You didn’t have to bring me flowers,” You hummed softly, trying to inject some lightness into your tone as you gestured to the bouquet.

Remus gave a sheepish smile, shrugging slightly. “I thought it might brighten your evening,” he admitted. “But if I’d known the hug was part of the deal, I might’ve come sooner.”

You let out a laugh and furrowed your brow further, unable to help how the cheeky comment brightened up your night that little bit more. “I see Sirius has gotten into you. Come in, let's go to the kitchen.”

The kitchen glowed softly, the warm light reflecting off the polished wooden counters and copper fixtures. The steady hum of the kettle was a comforting backdrop to the quiet conversation you and Remus shared. You busied yourself preparing tea, your back to him as he leaned against the table, his long limbs relaxed but his eyes watchful.

“You’ve redecorated,” He remarked, gesturing to the new curtains hanging over the window. “I’m not sure the maroon suits the Potters, though. Sirius would call it RavenClaw overkill.”

You smirked over your shoulder, a hint of genuine amusement breaking through the lingering heaviness in your chest. “Sirius would call anything not leather or black an abomination,” you retorted, setting two mismatched mugs on the counter.

Remus chuckled, a low, pleasant sound that filled the room. “Touché. Though I do think the blue adds some warmth. This place could use it.” He glanced around, his expression softening. “It feels different without… everyone.”

You paused for a moment, letting his words hang in the air. The truth of them settled deep in your chest, an ache that had grown all too familiar. “It’s been a bit lonely,” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “I’m not used to all this space- just me.”

He nodded, his gaze heavy with understanding. “I think they’d hate to see you like this. Especially James. He’d insist on dragging you to some ridiculous Quidditch match to cheer you up.”

You smiled faintly at the thought, a flicker of warmth chasing away the cold for just a moment. “He would,” You agreed. “He’d bribe me with chocolate frogs and promise not to embarrass me in front of the team, only to shout louder than anyone else in the stands. Calling us the seeker twins.”

Remus’s lips quirked into a small smile, but there was a flicker of something else in his expression- something that felt out of place. Nostalgia, yes, but also something deeper, something almost... reverent. His fingers drumming against his cup as he sat down at the table.

“You’ve always been good at making people laugh,” He said softly, his tone different now. His gaze lingered on you in a way that made your fingers hesitate as you poured the tea.

“You give me too much credit,” You hummed lightly, though his words sent a faint blush creeping up your neck. “James is the funny one. I’m just the stubborn one.”

He tilted his head, his smile turning crooked- letting his fingers graze your wrist and fixing your cuff as you poured him his tea. “It's a Potter trait. But I think it’s more than that.”

You turned to face him fully. “What are you getting at, Remus?” You narrowed your eyes, your tone teasing but your curiosity piqued.

He took the mug, his fingers brushing yours briefly, and for a moment, he didn’t reply. He just studied you, his hazel eyes unusually intense. “You’ve always had this way of making people feel seen,” He said finally, his voice softer now. “Like they matter. Even when they don’t think they do.”

His words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. “That’s… kind of you to say,” You managed, looking down at your tea as you tried to gather your thoughts. “I don’t think I’ve ever been particularly good at- ”

“You're selling yourself short, Birdie.” He chuckled. The nickname slipped from his lips so naturally, so casually, that it took you a moment to process. When it hit, your breath caught in your throat, and the air between you seemed to still.

You set your mug down slowly, your mind racing even as you fought to keep your expression calm. You turned back to the sink, gripping the edge tightly to ground yourself. “...What did you just call me?”

Remus stiffened, and you felt his gaze burn into your back. “What do you mean?” He mumbled, his voice suddenly cautious.

You turned around, your heart pounding- only one person called you by that name. “Why are you here?” You crossed your arms, your voice steady despite the storm building in your chest. “And don’t tell me it’s for tea.”

His expression faltered for just a second- just long enough for you to see through the carefully constructed façade. “I’m here because I wanted to see you,” His tone was measured. “To make sure you were all right.”

“No,” You scoffed, shaking your head as the pieces clicked together. “No, you know I'm not a fool.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but you didn’t let him. “Why are you here, Barty?”

His eyes widened, and for a moment, the mask slipped entirely. The careful demeanor, the warm smiles, the familiar quirks- it all fell away, replaced by a raw, vulnerable intensity that made your breath stop.

“You always were too clever for your own good,” He muttered, leaning back in his chair with a resigned sigh. “Guess there’s no point pretending now.”

Your chest tightened as the truth settled in. You gave a disbelieving scoff before you ran your fingers through your hair. Pacing slightly before you paused, a scary truth settling over you. “How did you do it?”

Barty rolled his neck and leaned further into his seat to face you again. His expression neutral- the natural arrogant energy coming from him felt horribly wrong coming from Remus’s stolen face. “What exactly, birdie?”

“Don't play coy.” You snapped. “How did you get as piece of Remus for the potion you used to lie your way past my wards and into my home, Crouch?”

“... I hate when you call me Crouch.” Barty's response was almost petulant, his lips twisting into a pout as he sat back in the chair, fingers tapping rhythmically against the porcelain mug he had barely touched. He tilted his head to the side, his green eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you, the faintest ghost of a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“You always know how to wound me,” He continued softly, his tone a mockery of vulnerability. “But then again, you've always been too good at that, haven't you?”

Your stomach churned at the way he looked at you, like you were something to be admired and consumed all at once. It was too much, too familiar, and yet so far removed from the boy you once knew. You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, grounding yourself against the onslaught of emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

“Answer the question, Barty,” You said sharply, your voice cutting through the heavy silence of the room. “How did you do it?”

He sighed dramatically, as though the act of explaining himself was some grand inconvenience. “Remus has always been predictable,” He snarked lazily, his gaze never leaving yours. “He's a creature of habit, like clockwork. It wasn’t exactly difficult to collect what I needed.”

Your blood ran cold at the casual way he spoke about violating the trust of someone you cared for. “You stalked him. You used him,” Your voice trembling with anger. “You used him to get to me.”

He smiled then, a slow, deliberate curl of his lips that sent a shiver down your spine. “I did it for you, Birdie,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, honeyed murmur. “For us. You don’t understand how much I’ve missed you, how much I’ve needed you. Every single day without you has been... agony.”

“Agony?” You repeated incredulously, your voice rising as your anger boiled over. “You don’t get to talk to me about agony, Barty. You left. You made that choice, and now you want to waltz back in here, pretending like nothing’s changed?”

“Because nothing has!” He shot back, rising from the chair so suddenly that it scraped against the floor with a harsh screech. He moved toward you, and despite yourself, you took a step back. “You think I stopped loving you? You think I ever stopped thinking about you? Every second, every breath, it’s always been you.”

“Stop,” You said firmly, holding up a hand to keep him at a distance. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to waltz in here, steal someone’s face, and act like you’re some lovesick hero.”

“But I am lovesick,” He said, his voice trembling as he closed the space between you. “I’m sick, Birdie. Sick. You’re the only thing that makes me feel alive, the only thing that’s ever made sense. Don’t you see? I’m here because I love you.”

“Love?” You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. “You don’t even know what love is, Barty. Love doesn’t manipulate. It doesn’t lie. It doesn’t use people. Get out.”

His expression switched to one of complete shock. As if he didn't expect to actually be sent away. You turned on your heels and walked down the hall, ignoring the stunned boy for a moment before he began to follow after you, taking a heavy breath. “Baby, birdie, don't walk away. Princess.”

Merlin, you hated to hear that coming from Remus’s mouth. It made your skin crawl.

His voice followed you like a shadow, echoing in the high ceilings of the manor. “Birdie, please,” He pleaded, a mixture of whining and anger that grated against your already frayed nerves. You didn’t turn around, your footsteps quick and determined as you ascended the stairs. “Don’t walk away from me!”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Every part of you screamed to keep moving, to put as much distance as possible between you and the man who was once everything to you. Your grip tightened on the banister as you climbed, trying to block out the sound of his voice.

“Stop ignoring me!” He shouted, his tone sharp with frustration. He was right behind you now, his steps uneven and frantic. “Do you think this is easy for me? Do you think I want to be like this?”

At that, you stopped abruptly, your heart pounding in your chest as you turned to face him. “Do I think this is easy for you?” You snapped, your voice trembling with barely contained fury. “You’ve made it abundantly clear, Barty, that you’ll do whatever you want- no matter who it hurts.”

He flinched at your words, the rawness of them cutting through his desperation. But instead of backing down, he stepped closer, his expression a twisted mixture of anguish and determination. His face flickered again, the remnants of the Polyjuice Potion struggling to hold as patches of his sandy hair and pale skin replaced Remus’s softer features.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” He said, his voice breaking. “I’m trying to fix this. To fix us.”

“There is no us,” you spat, your hands shaking as you stepped back. “There hasn’t been for a long time. And that was your choice, Barty.”

“No,” he said firmly, his green eyes blazing with an intensity that sent a chill down your spine. “You don’t get to put this all on me. You think I wanted to leave? You think I wanted to-” His voice cracked, and he clenched his fists, his body trembling with barely restrained emotion. “I didn’t have a choice, Birdie. You don’t understand-”

“You’re right,” You interrupted, your voice rising. “I don’t understand. I don’t understand how someone who claimed to love me could leave me to pick up the pieces of a life we built together. I don’t understand how you can come back now, pretending like you didn’t shatter me.”

He took another step forward, his hands outstretched as though reaching for something he couldn’t quite grasp. “Because I had to,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “Don’t you see? I had to protect you. From my father, from the world we were in. I-”

“Stop,” you said sharply, holding up a hand to cut him off. “Don’t stand there and pretend you were some kind of martyr. You weren’t protecting me, Barty. You were protecting yourself.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked like he might argue. But then his shoulders slumped, and the fight seemed to drain out of him. “Maybe I was,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I love you. That I’ve always loved you.”

“Love?” You echoed bitterly, shaking your head. “You call this love? Breaking into my home, stealing someone else’s face, manipulating me into letting you in? That’s not love, Barty. That’s obsession.”

At that, something in him seemed to snap. His entire body tensed, and he closed the space between you in two long strides. “Fine,” he hissed, his voice low and trembling with barely contained anger. “Call it what you want. Call me a monster, call me obsessed- but don’t you dare tell me I don’t love you.”

Before you could respond, his knees buckled, and he sank to the stair landing at your feet, his hands clutching at your covered thighs as though it were a lifeline. His chin pressed against your skirt, looking up at you with those eyes a young girl you knew once spent hours of her time lost in. Those brilliant and calculated eyes. Here he was; Bartemius Crouch Junior, with an ego to rival the gods and the mind and skill to back it up- on his knees. Looking up at you like an obedient dog. “How can I not love you?” He whispered. “Birdie. My beautiful song bird. How?”

Your chest heaved as you looked down at him, his once-imposing figure now crumpled before you, hands gripping your skirt like you were the only tether keeping him from falling apart completely. His words, dripping with desperation, clawed at your resolve.

“Barty,” You whispered, your voice trembling, a mixture of anger and grief thick in your throat. “You need to leave.”

His eyes shot up at your words, his green eyes wide with disbelief. He stared at you as if you’d just struck him, his lips parting slightly, searching for something to say. “No,” he said softly, his voice unsteady but growing firmer. You watched as the full potion effect dropped away. “I can’t leave. Not like this. Not when I know you still love me.”

You flinched, his words cutting deeper with his true voice, but you didn’t waver. “This isn’t about love,” you said firmly, though your voice cracked. “This is about you not knowing when to let go.”

He rose slowly, his movements deliberate, careful, like a predator trying not to spook its prey. He hovered over you now, his height casting a shadow that made the grand staircase feel suddenly small. His hand reached out, trembling as it moved toward your cheek, and you instinctively stepped back, pressing yourself against the banister.

“Don’t,” You warned, your voice sharp.

His hand froze mid-air, his fingers curling slightly before he dropped it to his side. He exhaled shakily, his breath warm as it ghosted over your skin. “Birdie, please,” He murmured, his voice barely audible, his lips forming words you couldn’t make out. His shoulders hunched as if the weight of his own need was too much to bear. “Please don’t send me away.”

You shook your head, tears threatening to spill over as you fought to keep your composure. “You don’t get to do this,” You hissed. “You don’t get to break into my home, throw yourself at my feet, and demand I fix you. You’re not my responsibility, Barty. Not anymore.”

His hands twitched at his sides, his jaw clenching as he fought some inner battle you couldn’t see. Then, in a single motion, his hands reached for you again, his movements quick but not violent, desperate but not forceful. Panic surged through you, and before you could think, your hand flew up, striking his cheek with a sharp slap.

The sound echoed in the hollow silence of the staircase.

He staggered back slightly, his hand flying to his cheek, but instead of anger, a strange expression crossed his face. His lips curved into a slow, almost delirious smile, his chest rising and falling as if he’d just surfaced from drowning.

“That,” He murmured, his voice rasping with something unhinged, “felt real.”

Your stomach churned, the unease twisting tighter as he stood straighter, his demeanor shifting. His hand dropped from his cheek, and he let out a low, almost relieved laugh, shaking his head. “That’s the Birdie I know,” he said softly, his tone dangerously gentle. “The one who knew what our passion meant- I miss her. Can I talk to her?”

Your chest heaved with the weight of his words, the deranged calmness in his voice sending your heart into overdrive. His smug, unhinged smile made the bile rise in your throat as your fingers curled into fists at your sides.

“You miss her?” You snapped, your voice sharp and trembling. “The Birdie you claim to miss is the one you destroyed, Barty! She’s the one you left behind when you decided to join them!”

The smile faltered slightly, and for a fleeting moment, you saw something like regret flicker across his face. But it wasn’t enough. It could never be enough to erase what he had done.

“You made your choice,” you continued, stepping toward him now, your fury overriding the trembling in your hands. “You chose to follow him. You chose to become a monster, to fight against everything I stand for, everything my family stands for. You don’t get to waltz back into my life and pretend none of it happened.”

“I did it for you,” His voice rising, his green eyes blazing as he stepped closer. “Every single thing I’ve done was for you, Birdie! To protect you, to keep you safe, to make sure you’d never have to know what it’s like to be weak. You think I wanted to join them? You think I wanted to-”

“Don’t you dare,” You cut him off, your voice trembling with rage. “Don’t you dare try to make this about me. You didn’t join them for me, Barty. You joined them because you’re too much of a coward to stand up to your father. You wanted power. You wanted to prove to him that you were more then him. But you didn’t care who you hurt along the way, did you?”

He flinched as though you’d struck him again, his jaw tightening as his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” He hissed through gritted teeth, his voice low and dangerous. “You don’t know what it’s like to live with the weight of that name. To have no choice but to-”

“You had a choice!” You screamed, the words tearing from your throat as tears stung your eyes. “You always had a choice, Barty! And you chose them. You chose power. You chose to stand against me, against my family. Against James!”

He froze at that, his eyes wide and his breath hitching as though you’d struck a nerve. But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop now, not with everything bubbling to the surface.

“You think I haven’t thought about you every single day?” You demanded, your voice breaking as tears began to spill freely down your cheeks. “You think I haven’t wondered if there was something I could have done, something I could have said to stop you? To save you?”

“Don’t,” He whispered, his voice trembling now, the bravado in his tone beginning to crack. “Don’t say that.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to say,” You spat, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and heartbreak. “You don’t get to tell me anything anymore. You lost that right the moment you turned your back on me.”

He stared at you, his chest rising and falling unevenly as the weight of your words pressed down on him. And then, suddenly, he moved.

Before you could react, he closed the distance between you in a single stride, his hands gripping your face with a desperation that took your breath away. His lips crashed into yours with a force that stole the air from your lungs, the kiss searing and frantic, as though it was the only way he could express everything he couldn’t say.

For a moment, you froze, your mind racing as the heat of his mouth overwhelmed your senses. You wanted to shove him away, to scream at him, to remind him of all the reasons this was wrong. But then something in you broke.

Your hands flew to his chest, not to push him away, but to pull him closer. The kiss deepened, raw and terrifying, a collision of anger, grief, and longing that neither of you could control. His hands slipped from your face to your waist, his grip bruising as he pulled you against him as if he could fuse you together.

The kiss deepened, and soon words no longer mattered. There were no more accusations, no more pleas, just the raw, unfiltered intensity of everything you’d both been holding back for far too long. It wasn’t tender or sweet- it was desperate, filled with the kind of longing and pain that made it impossible to think about anything else. His hands mapped out every inch of you as though he was trying to memorize you, to hold onto something real in a world that had been slipping away from him for years.

And you let him. You let yourself forget, if only for a moment, what he’d done, what he’d become, and the mess he’d left in his wake. You let yourself feel, because Merlin knew you couldn’t stand the ache of silence anymore.

It wasn’t long before the tension gave way to something more, something equally terrifying and exhilarating. Clothes were discarded hastily, his lips tracing paths of fire along your skin, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the silence of the manor wasn’t suffocating. It was electric.

You didn’t speak a word to each other the entire time. The only sounds being your soft gasps and his inaudible murmurs- ones that sounded more like pleas than anything else. You couldn’t give him more then that. Words would have only reminded you of the impossibility of it all, of everything you’d both lost. Words would have shattered the fragile bubble you’d created, where nothing else mattered but the two of you.

When it was over, you lay side by side in the fading moonlight, your bodies tangled in the sheets as the world slowly came back into focus. His breathing was uneven, his hand still resting on your waist as though he couldn’t quite bring himself to let go. But you didn’t look at him. You couldn’t. You stared at the ceiling instead, your mind a chaotic storm of emotions you weren’t ready to unpack.

~~~

The morning light filtered in through the heavy curtains, painting the room in soft hues of gold and grey. You stirred slightly, the ache in your body a reminder of the night before, but you kept your eyes closed, willing the world- and him- away.

You heard him moving about, the rustle of fabric as he dressed. For a brief, fleeting moment, you thought he might leave quietly, that he might spare you the agony of facing him after everything that had happened. But then he spoke, his voice low and hesitant, as though testing the waters.

“I’ll come back later.”

You scoffed softly, rolling over to face the wall, your back to him. You didn’t say a word. You couldn’t trust yourself to speak without breaking, without letting the storm inside you spill out.

“Birdie…” His voice was softer now, almost pleading, but you didn’t move. You kept your breathing even, your expression neutral, even as your heart clenched painfully in your chest.

The air felt heavier as the silence stretched, broken only by the soft creak of the floorboards as Barty lingered by the door. His shadow loomed across the threshold, hesitant, like a ghost caught between staying and vanishing.

“Birdie.” He whispered, his voice raw and strained, as though dragging each word out of his chest cost him a piece of himself. “One last thing.”

You didn’t respond, your body curled away from him, but he knew you were awake. He always did.

“You have to tell James.” He sighed, the words tumbling out in a quiet rush. “About his Secret Keeper.”

Your breath stopped, but you didn’t move. Every muscle in your body tensed as his words settled over you like frost, cold and unforgiving.

“Barty, what are you talking about?” You finally whispered, your voice hoarse as you turned just enough to glance over your shoulder. He looked so different in the pale morning light, the shadows on his face accentuating the cracks in his armor, the boy you once loved bleeding through the man he had become.

“Just promise me,” He cut you off, his tone suddenly sharper. “You'll.. warn him not to trust them.”

You stared at him, searching his face for answers, but all you found was that same haunted intensity you’d seen last night. He wasn’t lying- at least, not about this. But that didn’t make it any easier to believe.

“... okay.” You muttered. “I will.”

Barty stared at you like he wanted to say a million different things at once. Instead, he turned, the door closing behind him. You hugged your knees to your chest and willed away as much of reality as possible. Begging for any sense of normalcy to return; even the painful loneliness.

But nothing truly worked.

~~~

As the days went on, the weight of Barty's absence hung over the time that followed like a storm cloud. He hadn’t come back, and you weren’t sure if you were relieved or heartbroken. The last words he’d said lingered with you, haunting your every quiet moment: Tell James. Warn him.

You’d followed through on his warning, albeit reluctantly. It had been difficult to convince James without revealing the entire truth, but the grim look in his eyes had told you he believed you, or at least enough to act.

Nothing happened at first, but Peter was monitored. It didn't take long for everything to come to light; Peter was working against you. It all worked out. James was ready for him that night, the night he came for Harry, surprising the monster before he could act. Peter tried to run after the news came out, but a furious Sirius tracked him down for a confrontation. One with an explosive end for their former friend, nothing left of the boy but a finger.

It did take a few hours of wrestling with the Aurors, but after being proper witnesses and all of your evidence of treason- Sirius was released. Walking out of the holding cell with a smile that could blunt the sun. Lily and James were safe. Baby Harry, too. Relief and disbelief were all anyone seemed capable of, but you couldn’t bring yourself to celebrate. Not fully. Because in the same breath that the Dark Lord fell, Barty was taken to Azkaban.

You hadn’t dared to ask about the details. Not from James, not from Sirius, not from anyone. Knowing felt like it would only make it worse. But the knowledge of him locked away, cold and alone in a place that stripped people of everything, clawed at your chest in the silence of the manor.

You had lost him all over again, and this time, you knew there was no coming back.

The days that followed felt like a blur of motion and noise, a sharp contrast to the oppressive stillness that had once consumed you. You refused to let Barty- or the ghost of him that lingered in your mind- define you any longer. He was gone, and you couldn’t afford to let his absence drag you down any further. Not when there was work to be done.

You didn’t go to his hearing. You couldn’t. The idea of sitting in that courtroom, of listening to them talk about him as though he was nothing more than a monster, was too much. It wasn’t that you disagreed. He’d made his choices, and the world would see him for what he’d become. But for you, he was still the boy who had once traced your blemishes like constellations and whispered that you were the only light in his life.

Even now, looking back, you had always known what that young boy was capable of. The signs were there; and the raking guilt of knowing that you were possibly the only thing keeping him from becoming what he seemed so keen on being, taxed your self worth.

So, you pretended that night didn’t happen. That he didn’t exist. The magpie charm around your neck was tucked away in a drawer, along with the pieces of your heart that still ached for him. You buried it all deep, focusing on what you could control, on what you could fix.

Joining the Order to help clean up the aftermath of the war felt like a natural next step. It was what your parents would have done, what James would have done if he wasn’t busy. Saying he wanted to be a proper father to Harry and a good man to Lily. Lily still stayed close, there wasn't many healers with her talent. But James stepped down. It was what you needed to do. The world hadn’t stopped turning, and there were still Death Eaters to hunt, still innocent people to protect, still so much damage to undo.

The first few missions were grueling, physically and emotionally. You worked long hours, tracking down the last of Voldemort’s loyalists and dismantling the remnants of their operations. It was dangerous, messy work, but you thrived in it. The chaos kept you moving, kept you from lingering too long on the memories that threatened to pull you under.

You found solace in the chaos of the Order. Sirius, always protective, tried to keep a close eye on you, though he seemed to understand your need for space. Remus was steadier, offering quiet support when you needed it most, though you often pushed him away. And James- when he wasn’t with Lily and Harry- was your anchor, his unrelenting optimism a reminder of the person you used to be.

But there were moments, late at night, when the world went quiet, and you couldn’t escape the weight of it all. When you lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, and his voice echoed in your mind. When you caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of your eye that reminded you of him, and your heart clenched painfully before you forced yourself to look away.

And then there were the whispers. The Order didn’t really talk about Barty, he was just another cog in the operation, but you heard the murmurs. About his trial, about Azkaban, about how someone so young and clever could have fallen so far. You kept your head down, pretending not to hear, but the words cut deep.

The recklessness came on slowly at first, creeping into your choices like an insidious shadow. You pushed yourself harder on missions, volunteering for the riskiest tasks, throwing yourself into danger with a desperation that bordered on self-destructive. It was easier to focus on the fight, on the rush of adrenaline and the sharp edge of survival, than to confront the gaping void Barty had left behind.

Sirius and Remus noticed, of course. They weren’t blind to the way you flinched at certain names, or how you worked yourself to exhaustion. Sirius tried to laugh it off at first, making quips about how you were channeling your inner Gryffindor ‘under all that Ravenclaw’. But Remus, ever perceptive, wasn’t fooled. His hazel eyes lingered on you with quiet concern, though he said nothing outright. Not until the mission that changed everything.

It was supposed to be a straightforward raid: infiltrate a suspected Death Eater hideout, gather intel, and get out. But things rarely went as planned. The ambush was swift and brutal, spells ricocheting off walls and sending debris flying. You and Remus were in the thick of it, your wand moving instinctively as you deflected curses and fired back.

Then it happened. A flash of green light, too close, too fast. It was aimed directly at Remus, who had his back turned while shielding a fallen comrade. Without thinking, you moved. You felt the spell hit you like a freight train, knocking the air from your lungs as a searing pain ripped through your side.

You barely registered Remus’s horrified shout as you crumpled to the ground, your vision blurring. The sounds of the battle faded into a dull roar as your consciousness slipped away, the last thing you saw being his anguished face hovering over you.

~~~

Remus paced the length of the ornate carpet, his fingers raking through his hair repeatedly as though he could scrub away the memory of what had happened. Sirius sat slumped on the sofa, uncharacteristically silent, his dark eyes fixed on the fireplace. The flickering flames did nothing to ease the tension in the room.

Remus’s chest tightened with guilt, each second that passed driving the weight deeper. He could still see it- the flash of green light, the way you had thrown yourself in front of him without hesitation. The moment felt frozen in time, looping endlessly in his mind.

“Moony, sit down,” Sirius huffed finally, his voice low and hoarse. It was an order, but not a harsh one.

“I can’t,” Remus replied, his voice taut as a wire. “She- she could’ve-”

“But she didn’t,” Sirius interrupted, his tone firm. “She’s alive, and Lily is better then any healer we have.”

Remus halted mid-step, his jaw clenched tightly. “She shouldn’t have had to save me,” he said, his voice cracking. “She- she’s half alive, Sirius. If anything happens to her-”

Sirius’s gaze darkened, and he stood, crossing the room in a few long strides. He placed a hand on Remus’s shoulder, squeezing it tightly. “You listen to me,” His eyes were sharp but his voice was steady. “She’s as stubborn as James, maybe more so. There’s no way she’d have stood by and done nothing, and you know it. Blaming yourself won’t change anything.”

Remus opened his mouth to respond, but the sound of the front door opening cut him off. Both men turned toward the entrance just as James entered, his face pale and tense. Harry toddled in after him, clutching his father’s pant leg with wide, curious eyes.

“Where is she?” James asked immediately, his voice sharp with worry.

“She’s upstairs,” Sirius said quickly. “Lils’ with her. She hasn't come back down yet.”

The tension in the room was suffocating, the silence broken only by the faint crackle of the fire and the occasional creak of floorboards as Remus paced. Sirius watched James carefully, noting how his hands trembled ever so slightly as he held Harry close. It was subtle, but for someone as unshakable as James Potter, it was telling.

“I need to go to her,” James said abruptly, his voice sharp and breaking the heavy stillness. He passed Harry to Sirius, who took the toddler without protest, his dark eyes wary. “She’s my sister. She shouldn’t be alone.”

“You can’t,” Sirius said firmly, standing up to meet James’s gaze. “Lily said we need to give her space. She’s working.”

“I don’t care what Lily said!” James snapped, his voice louder now, desperation seeping into his tone. “That’s my little sister lying upstairs, Sirius. If something happens- if she-” He cut himself off, swallowing hard as he fought to steady his breathing. “I can’t just sit here.”

“You think I want to?” Sirius shot back, his voice rising to match James’s. “You think Remus wants to? Merlin, Prongs, we’re all going mad down here, but Lily knows what she’s doing. She’ll call us if- when- there’s news.”

James ran a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable. He knew if anyone could understand even a fraction of what he was feeling it was Sirius- you had endeared yourself to him in a way not many people could. And those people were in this house. “She doesn’t get to keep me from her,” He muttered, his tone dangerously low now. “Not her. Not anyone.”

“James, listen to me,” Sirius snapped, stepping closer, his hand gripping James’s shoulder tightly. “You storming in there isn’t going to help her. It’s not going to help anyone.”

Before James could respond, the sound of light footsteps descending the stairs cut through the room like a knife. All three men turned toward the staircase as Lily appeared, her face pale and her expression unreadable. The sight of her made James freeze, his words dying in his throat. Sirius’s grip on Harry tightened, and Remus stopped pacing entirely.

Lily’s hands were clasped tightly in front of her, and her eyes darted between the men before finally settling on James. “Can I speak with you alone?” She asked softly, her voice calm but heavy with something that made James’s stomach churn.

“What is it?” He demanded, taking a step toward her. “Lily, just tell me-”

“Please, James,” She interrupted, her voice breaking just slightly as she glanced toward Harry, who was still nestled in Sirius’s arms. “Come with me.”

James hesitated, his body rigid with tension, but the look in Lily’s eyes left no room for argument. He turned back to Sirius and Remus, his jaw clenched tightly. “I’ll be back,” He said, though his voice wavered.

James followed Lily just a few steps into the hallway before she stopped, her back to him as she hesitated. Lily’s words were hushed and inaudible, even to Remus’s keen ears- or maybe, he just wasn't willing to know just yet.

James’s expression shifted from tension to something unreadable, his brows drawing together as he processed Lily’s quiet words. The weight of whatever she had said seemed to hit him all at once, and his jaw went slack, his eyes widening in stunned disbelief.

Sirius and Remus exchanged a quick glance, their concern growing as they watched James stagger back a half step, his hand running through his already disheveled hair. His lips moved as though forming a question, but no sound escaped. Whatever Lily had told him, it had shaken him to his core.

Sirius shifted Harry on his hip, his protective instincts flaring. “What the hell did she just say to him?” He muttered under his breath to Remus, his dark eyes narrowing.

“I don’t know,” Remus replied quietly, his voice tight with unease. James finally looked at Lily, his wide eyes searching hers for confirmation.

James didn't hesitate after Lily's nod. He took the stairs two at a time, his worry and confusion pressing heavily on his shoulders. His hand gripped the banister tightly as he moved, the wood creaking faintly under his weight. Sirius and Remus exchanged uneasy glances from their spot by the fireplace, the tension thick enough to choke on.

Lily lingered at the base of the stairs for a moment, watching James's retreating form before turning back to the room. She mustered a soft, reassuring smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“She’s fine,” she said quietly, addressing Sirius and Remus.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Fine? You call that fine?” He gestured toward the staircase with a sharp nod, where James had disappeared moments before. “Prongs looked like he was about to keel over.”

“She is,” Lily insisted gently but firmly. “But James.. they just need to talk.”

Remus frowned, his sharp hazel eyes darting between Lily and the stairs. “If she’s fine, why is he in such a rush? What aren’t you telling us, Lily?”

Lily hesitated, her smile faltering slightly as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s not my place to say,” she said finally, her voice soft but resolute. “You’ll have to ask her yourselves when she’s ready.”

Sirius let out a low growl of frustration, running a hand through his hair. “Great. Love a good mystery. Just what we need after all this.”

Remus, however, wasn’t so easily placated. His gaze lingered on Lily, his instincts screaming that there was more to the story than she was letting on. But he didn’t press her. Not yet.

Instead, he leaned back against the arm of the couch, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Whatever it is, it’s obviously got James in a state,” he muttered under his breath.

Lily offered him a small, almost apologetic smile before excusing herself, taking Harry from Sirius, as she headed toward the kitchen, leaving Sirius and Remus to stew in their unease.

~~~

James reached the door to your room, his breath coming in shallow bursts as he paused to gather himself. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to find on the other side. The worry twisting in his chest was relentless, and the weight of Lily’s cryptic words only added to his unease.

He knocked softly, his knuckles brushing the wood. “It’s me,” He called quietly, his voice trembling slightly. “Can I come in?”

There was a moment of silence, and then your voice- weak but steady- drifted through the door. “It’s open.”

James pushed the door open and stepped inside, his eyes immediately searching for you. You were propped up against a pile of pillows on the bed, your complexion pale but no longer deathly. A soft blanket was draped over your lap, and a steaming mug rested on the nightstand beside you.

Relief flooded through him at the sight of you awake, but it was quickly tempered by the shadow of exhaustion that lingered in your eyes.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice breaking the quiet.

You managed a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Hey, Jamie.”

He crossed the room in a few strides, pulling the chair closer to your bedside and sinking into it. His hands fidgeted in his lap as he searched for the right words, his gaze flickering between your face and the mug on the nightstand.

“You scared the hell out of me,” He sighed finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You looked down, your fingers picking at the edge of the blanket. “I know. I’m sorry.”

James shook his head, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Don’t apologize,” He said firmly. “Just… talk to me. Please. What’s going on? Lily said you’re fine, but-”

“Lily’s right,” You cut in gently, meeting his gaze. You were able to see all the true overbearing nature of James Potter. When you were younger his protective nature used to irritate you- he was always on, all the time, brash and loud- a proper lion. Now? You wanted nothing more than to curl up against him and cry. But that's the last thing you could allow yourself to be- weak. “I’m fine, James. Or at least, I will be.”

He studied you for a long moment, his hazel eyes filled with a mixture of concern and doubt. “Lily said.. you needed to tell me something.”

James tilted his head slightly, his brows furrowing as he studied your expression. There was something guarded in your eyes, something that made the air between you feel heavier. His concern deepened when you let out a soft, shaky breath and slowly ran your hand over your abdomen.

The motion was small, almost absentminded, but it struck James like a thunderclap. His eyes widened, his lips parting as the realization sank in. For a moment, he was utterly still, his mind racing to catch up with what you’d just silently told him.

“No,” he breathed, the word barely audible as he leaned back in his chair, his face pale with shock. “No.”

You didn’t say anything, didn’t move, didn’t breathe. You simply held his gaze, your fingers resting lightly on your abdomen.

James swallowed hard, his voice trembling as he asked, “Bambi, when?”

The nickname, soft and familiar, broke something inside you. But you held firm, your eyes flickering away from his as you shook your head. “It doesn’t matter,” You whispered, your voice barely above a murmur.

James’s leg began to bounce, his eyes flickering from you to the door a few times before he shot up from his seat and began to pace. “When did you find out?” He demanded sharply, his voice tight with tension.

“Tonight,” You admitted quietly, your fingers curling around the blanket on your lap.

James stopped mid-step, spinning on his heel to face you. “Tonight?” He repeated, his voice rising slightly. “And you didn’t think to tell me immediately? Merlin’s sake!”

You flinched as his voice raised, but you held your ground, meeting his gaze with a calmness you didn’t entirely feel. “I was a little busy almost dying, James,” You hissed, your voice firmer now.

He opened his mouth to argue but then snapped it shut, his jaw tightening as he resumed pacing. “Fine. Fine,” He muttered, more to himself than to you. “But you’re leaving the Order.”

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking your head. “As if they’d want me back after that stunt,” You shot back. “I’m not exactly in peak condition for fieldwork, am I?”

James ignored your sarcasm, his hands balling into fists as he continued his relentless pacing. “Good. You shouldn’t be anywhere near this madness,” He said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. “Not now.”

Your heart clenched at his words, the overbearing protectiveness you’d come to associate with him hitting harder than ever. But before you could respond, he stopped abruptly, his hazel eyes narrowing as a new thought seemed to strike him.

“Who is it?” He demanded, his voice sharp and almost accusatory. “Who?”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his question settling over you like a lead blanket. “It doesn’t matter,” You pushed, though your voice wavered slightly.

James’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening as he began to pace once more. “Doesn’t matter?” He echoed incredulously, his voice rising. “It absolutely matters, Bambi. You can’t just- Merlin, you can’t drop something like this and expect me not to-” He cut himself off with a growl, shaking his head as he muttered under his breath.

James's pacing came to an abrupt halt, his hazel eyes narrowing as the pieces began to fall into place. He turned to you, his expression shifting from confusion to a dawning realization that made your stomach drop.

“The wards,” he said slowly, his voice low and dangerous. “The ones Lily and I put up for you- someone would’ve had to get past them. Someone who knew how to.”

You froze, your heart pounding in your chest as his gaze locked onto yours, sharp and unrelenting.

“Who was it, Bambi?” he demanded again, his tone deadly serious now. “Who the hell got past the wards?”

Your throat tightened, and for a moment, you couldn’t find your voice. You looked away, your fingers gripping the blanket tightly as if it could shield you from the weight of his question.

“Answer me!” James’s voice cracked, a mixture of desperation and anger bleeding into his tone.

You took a shaky breath, your gaze fixed on the wall as you whispered, “You don’t want to know, James.”

“That’s not your choice to make,” he shot back, his voice trembling. “Tell me.”

You finally met his gaze, your eyes brimming with tears as you whispered the name that had haunted you for weeks, for months: “Barty.”

The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of your admission hanging heavy in the air. James stared at you, his face a mixture of shock, anger, and something deeper- betrayal.

“Barty Crouch?” He asked slowly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, your throat too tight to speak.

“Barty Crouch Junior?” James pushed and you gave a weak scoff.

“James- yes Junior.” You huffed, your anger boiling over.

James stared at you, his chest rising and falling with the effort of keeping his temper in check. His jaw clenched so tightly you thought it might shatter, but his eyes- those familiar, warm hazel eyes- betrayed the storm inside him. He was angry, yes, but the anger wasn’t directed at you. It wasn’t even directed at Barty. It was directed at himself.

For a moment, the room was silent, the only sound the faint beating of rain against the windows. You could see it, the way his hands trembled slightly as he tried to decide what to say. Finally, he spoke, his voice low but sharp enough to cut through the silence.

“How long?” He asked, his tone controlled but strained. “How long were you seeing him?”

You swallowed hard, gripping the blanket in your lap. “James-”

“How. Long.” His voice cracked, louder this time, the control slipping for just a moment. He was trying, you knew he was trying, but the weight of everything was too much for even him to hold back.

You took a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “It started fifth year.” you admitted quietly. “It ended seventh. And he.. he showed up here. He told me about Peter.”

James’s face twisted, and he turned away, his hands dragging through his already-messy hair. He let out a low, frustrated sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a growl. “Fifth year?” he muttered to himself. “Merlin, Bambi, how did I not see it? How did I-” He cut himself off, pacing again.

You bit your lip, tears stinging your eyes. “James, please-”

“I..” He started but stopped- as if your tears alone tore apart at his flimsy heart. Closing his eyes and taking a steady breath. “So he made it past the wards. He came and told you about Peter and what? You-”

“James please just drop it. He's in Azkaban for life! It doesn't matter.”

James froze mid-step, his fists clenching tightly at his sides as his back remained turned to you. His shoulders heaved with the weight of unspoken words, his frustration palpable in the charged silence that filled the room.

"It doesn't matter?" He finally repeated, his voice low and filled with a quiet, simmering rage. "It doesn't matter?"

You flinched at his tone, gripping the blanket tighter as you tried to steady your breathing. "He's gone, James," you said softly, your voice trembling. "There's nothing left to fight over. There's no point in dragging this out."

James spun around to face you, his hazel eyes blazing with a mixture of anger, hurt, and disbelief. "No point?" He hissed, taking a step closer. "You think I’m angry because of him? Merlin, Bambi, I couldn’t give a damn about Barty Crouch. I’m angry because you didn’t tell me. You’ve been carrying this- this secret- alone, and now you’re trying to push me away again."

"I'm not pushing you away," You shot back, your voice rising slightly. "I'm trying to protect you! You have Lily, Harry- your family. You don't need to be dragged into this mess, James. It’s mine to deal with."

His expression softened for a fraction of a second, but the anger quickly returned. "You’re my family," he said fiercely, his voice breaking slightly. "You always have been. And if you think for one second that I’m going to stand here and let you face this alone, then you don’t know me at all."

You stared at him, the raw emotion in his voice cutting through your defenses like a blade. Your chest ached, torn between the desire to let him in and the fear of burdening him further. "James, I-" you began, but your voice faltered as tears welled in your eyes.

He closed the distance between you, dropping into the chair beside your bed. His hand found yours, warm and steady despite the tremor in his grip. "Listen to me," he said softly, his tone losing its edge as his thumb brushed over your knuckles. "I don’t care how messy this is. I don’t care how much it hurts. I just care about you."

The dam inside you broke, and a sob escaped your lips as you clung to his hand like a lifeline. "I don’t know how to fix this," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know how to move forward."

James squeezed your hand tightly, his gaze unwavering. "You don’t have to figure it out alone," he said firmly. "We’ll take it one step at a time, together. You hear me, Bambi? You’re not alone in this."

The weight on your chest eased ever so slightly as his words sank in, the overwhelming love and determination in his voice a balm to your fractured soul. You nodded, unable to speak as the tears streamed down your face, and James pulled you into a tight embrace.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you allowed yourself to lean on him, to let the walls you’d built around yourself crumble. And as James held you, murmuring reassurances that you would face whatever came next together, you felt the smallest flicker of hope begin to bloom in your chest.

After you recovered, you faced the daunting task of telling Sirius and Remus. Their reactions were nothing like you’d expected. After weeks of being stuffed up in that dingy room.

Sirius, ever the one to surprise you, turned softer than you’d ever seen him. It reminded you of the day Lily announced she was pregnant with Harry. He was standing in the kitchen when you told him, fiddling with a mug of tea. The moment the words left your lips, his eyes widened, and he nearly dropped the mug onto the countertop.

For a moment, you thought he might pass out, but then his face broke into a beaming smile that almost seemed out of place for the weight of what you’d just told him. “You’re joking,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. When you shook your head, tears welling in your eyes, he stepped forward, his hands gripping your shoulders firmly. “Merlin, you’re not joking.”

“I’m sorry,” You began, your voice cracking as the apology spilled from your lips. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, I-”

“Stop,” Sirius interrupted, his tone so warm it took you aback. He let go of your shoulders and instead pulled you into the tightest hug you’d ever received. “Don’t you dare apologize,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ll be a good mum, do you hear me? A bloody brilliant one.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you clung to him, his words washing over you like a balm. “But Sirius,” you tried again, your voice muffled against his shoulder. “The father-”

“I don’t care,” he said firmly, pulling back to look at you. His gray eyes were intense, but not with judgment- only love and determination. “I don’t care who he is, or what he’s done. This baby is going to have the best mum in the world. And they’re going to have me too, whether they like it or not.”

You let out a shaky laugh, his unwavering support lifting some of the weight off your chest. He grinned at you then, that mischievous, boyish grin you thought you’d lost after the war. “Merlin, James is going to lose his mind when he meets them,” He said, his voice laced with humor. “But I’m going to be the favorite uncle, just you wait.”

But then there was Remus.

You found Remus later in the sitting room, a book in his lap, though he wasn’t reading it. His eyes were distant, his fingers absently tracing the edges of the pages. He looked up when you entered, and the small smile he gave you faltered slightly when he caught sight of your expression.

“Remus,” you started hesitantly, sitting down on the sofa across from him. You fidgeted with your hands, unsure of how to begin. “There’s… something I need to tell you.”

He didn’t say anything, but the corner of his mouth quirked upward ever so slightly. His gaze flickered to your stomach for a moment, then back to your face. His expression was calm, almost amused, but there was a glint of something in his hazel eyes- something knowing.

“I-” you faltered, feeling suddenly uneasy under his gaze. “It’s… it’s important.”

He hummed softly, setting the book down on the armrest. “Go on, then,” He said, his tone light but laced with curiosity. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees as he studied you.

You took a deep breath, the words caught in your throat. “Remus, I-” You stopped when he lifted a finger to his nose and tapped it lightly, the gesture so quick and casual it took a moment to register.

You frowned, your heart skipping a beat as realization slowly dawned on you. “Remus,” you said again, your voice sharper this time. “You already know.”

His smirk grew slightly, the mischievous tilt of his lips catching you completely off guard. “I might,” he said nonchalantly, leaning back against the couch with an air of smugness. “Though it’s much more fun watching you squirm.”

You stared at him, your mouth opening and closing as you tried to process his words. “How?” You finally managed, your voice a mix of shock and disbelief. “How do you know?”

He shrugged, crossing one ankle over his knee. “It wasn’t hard to figure out,” he said casually, though there was a teasing lilt to his tone. “The scent changed a few days ago.”

“The scent?” You repeated, utterly baffled.

His smirk deepened, and he tapped his nose again, his hazel eyes sparkling with amusement. “Enhanced senses, remember? The subtle shifts, the hormones- it’s all there. Just like Lily. Didn’t think I’d notice?”

You stared at him, utterly dumbfounded. “You could smell that I was-?”

“Pregnant?” He finished for you, his tone softening slightly. Hearing Remus be the first to break- to finally say the word properly- it brought a smile to your face. “Yes.”

You buried your face in your hands, groaning softly as the embarrassment washed over you. “Merlin, Remus, you could’ve said something!”

“And miss this moment?” He teased, leaning forward again. “Not a chance.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, narrowing your eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

“Only because I care,” he quipped, his smirk turning into a warm smile. He reached out, his hand resting gently on yours. “I knew you’d tell me when you were ready.”

His words melted some of the tension in your chest, and you let out a shaky laugh. “Well, I’m telling you now,” you said softly. “I’m… I’m having a baby.”

His smile grew, the teasing glint in his eyes giving way to something softer, something warmer. “I know,” he said simply, his voice steady and reassuring. “And you’re going to be amazing.”

Tears pricked at your eyes as his words settled over you, their sincerity hitting you squarely in the chest. “Thank you, Remus,” you whispered.

~~~

Even after everything, it was as smooth as it could possibly be. James, Lily, and Harry all finally packed up from their safe house and moved back into the Potter Manor.

Sirius and Remus finally stopped torturing everyone and confessed to their little run around of affections.

The years passed like a dream, each one carrying its own triumphs and heartaches. The war faded into history, though its scars remained etched into the lives of those who survived it. Life moved on, not always neatly, but with a resilience that surprised you.

Sirius and Remus opened a small library nestled on the corner of Diagon Alley and a quiet cobblestone street. It was cozy, with tall shelves of books that seemed to reach the ceiling, a perpetually warm fireplace, and a small reading nook tucked into the back. The name on the window read Padfoot and Moony’s Rare Reads, though it quickly became known simply as “The Den.”

Remus spent his days writing accurate, unbiased Defense Against the Dark Arts books, ones that became staples in Hogwarts classrooms. His name grew to rival even Gilderoy Lockhart’s (though, unlike Lockhart, Remus didn’t need embellishments to sell books). Sirius, of course, claimed full credit for every ounce of their success, though he spent more time charming patrons and hosting wildly popular storytelling nights than actually working.

Your daughter, Ophelia, was the light of your life. She had her fathers eyes- but carried a quiet intensity in her gaze that reminded you of a young girl you once knew. Sirius adored her, and James, ever the doting uncle, took it upon himself to teach her everything he could about Quidditch, much to Lily’s dismay. Harry, now only 6, had taken on a brotherly role, often sneaking her chocolates or helping her catch frogs in the garden when no one was looking.

But it was Remus who seemed to understand Ophelia in ways even you sometimes struggled to. He noticed the way she retreated into her own thoughts, the questions she asked that were far too insightful for her age. He never pushed her, always waiting patiently for her to come to him with her thoughts, her worries, or her triumphs. It was Remus who first noticed how much she loved books, spending hours reading to her in that steady, soothing voice of his.

One quiet afternoon, while Ophelia played on the rug with a stack of enchanted building blocks, you stood at the counter of the library, watching Remus as he worked on editing a draft of his latest book. The sunlight streamed through the windows, catching the streaks of silver in his hair, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” You said softly, your voice breaking the comfortable silence.

Remus looked up from his notes, his hazel eyes warm and curious. “What’s on your mind?”

You stepped closer, your hands resting lightly on the counter. “I wanted to ask if you’d consider being Ophelia’s godfather.”

His expression froze for a moment, his pen hovering above the page. Then, slowly, a smile broke across his face, wide and genuine in a way that made your chest ache with affection. “Are you serious?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Dead serious,” You teased lightly, though your voice trembled with emotion. “She adores you, Remus. And so do I. There’s no one else I’d trust more.”

He set his pen down and rose from his chair, crossing the short distance between you in a few strides. He hesitated for only a moment before pulling you into a tight, warm hug. “It would be an honor,” He murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you.”

~~~

It was late summer, and the warm golden light streaming through the windows of the Potter Manor made the room feel alive, even as you worked through the seemingly endless task of packing Ophelia’s trunk for another school year at Hogwarts. She sat nearby, perched on the edge of the armchair with her dark hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders, her head bent over her meticulously written list.

She was elegant without trying, a quiet sort of grace that seemed inherent in her very being. Even now, as she frowned slightly at the parchment in her hands, the faintest furrow of her brow betrayed her focus; her fingers fiddling with the magpie necklace you gifted her on her eleventh birthday. You couldn’t help the soft smile that tugged at your lips as you watched her. She was so much her own person- intelligent, curious, and brimming with quiet determination- but in her moments of focus, you could see glimpses of her father in her too. It made your chest ache with a love so fierce it almost hurt.

“Mum,” She said finally, her voice gentle but tinged with that signature note of exasperation. She didn’t look up from her list as she spoke. “I told you- I need new potion vials. The ones from last year cracked.”

You folded one of her robes carefully and placed it into the trunk, glancing over at her with a soft chuckle. “And I told you, my love,” You hummed, your voice calm and warm, “that you’ll get them when we go to Diagon Alley. Harry and the Weasleys are meeting us there, remember?”

She let out a dramatic sigh, finally lifting her head to meet your gaze. Her sharp, inquisitive eyes- so much like his and yet so uniquely her own- sparkled with that combination of pride and determination that seemed to define her. “I don’t see why I can’t just go by myself,” She challenged, crossing her arms over her chest in that effortlessly regal way of hers. “I’m not a baby, you know.”

You raised an eyebrow at her, the corners of your mouth lifting into a knowing smile. “You’re thirteen,” You countered gently, pausing in your task to give her your full attention. “And while I have no doubt that you could navigate the alley on your own, I’d prefer to keep you in one piece. Humor your mother, will you?”

Ophelia rolled her eyes dramatically, but the faint smile that tugged at her lips betrayed her. “Fine,” she relented, her tone light but tinged with mock indignation. “But only because you insist.”

You laughed softly, reaching over to brush a stray strand of hair from her face. “Thank you, darling,” you murmured, your voice soft with affection. “I don’t know what I’d do without you to keep me on my toes.”

She tilted her head slightly, her expression softening as she studied you. “Probably live a very peaceful, boring life,” She sighed in faux aspiration, her words playful but her tone warm. “No dramatic letters about professors or requests for obscure potion ingredients.”

“Don’t forget the long rants about Magic Theory,” You added with a smirk, resuming your task as you carefully folded another one of her robes. “I’d be lost without those.”

Ophelia gave a delicate shrug, her lips curving into a smile that was pure mischief. “Well, someone has to keep you informed,” She said lightly, glancing back down at her list. “You’d be dreadfully out of touch without me.”

“Perish the thought,” You mused, your tone laced with mock horror. But as you reached for another item to pack, you couldn’t help the warmth that bloomed in your chest.

Despite her pride and sharp wit- or perhaps because of it- Ophelia had a heart so full of love and passion that it left you in awe. She was your miracle, your everything, and the reason you had fought so hard to build a life worth living after everything you’d endured. And though she sometimes tested your patience, you wouldn’t trade a single moment with her for the world.

As you worked together in companionable silence, the house around you buzzed faintly with the promise of the day ahead. Soon, the Floo Network would carry her off to join Harry and the Weasleys, and you would meet James and Lily later at the Leaky Cauldron. But for now, in this moment, it was just the two of you, and the quiet love you shared was enough to fill the room with light.

“Ophelia,” You called softly, breaking the silence as you tucked the last item into her trunk. She looked up at you, her expression curious. “You know I love you, don’t you?”

Her sharp features softened instantly, and she set her list aside, crossing the small space between you to wrap her arms around your waist. “Of course I do, Mum,” She murmured, her voice quiet but sure. “And I love you too.”

You held her close, your heart swelling with a love so fierce it threatened to overwhelm you. No matter how many years passed or how independent she became, she would always be your little girl. And in that moment, as the sunlight streamed through the windows and the world felt soft and safe, you were reminded once again of just how lucky you were to have her.

~~~

The cobbled streets of Diagon Alley buzzed with life, the chatter of families mingling with the clink of cauldrons and the rustle of shopping bags. Children darted between storefronts, their excitement infectious, while parents called after them, juggling lists and parcels. But Ophelia paid the lively scene no mind. She moved with purpose, her steps elegant yet determined, weaving through the crowd with a quiet confidence that belied her thirteen years.

“Honestly, Harry, it’s just a bookstore,” she’d said earlier, rolling her eyes at her cousin’s protests. “I’ll be fine.” Her tone, a perfect blend of exasperation and poise, had left little room for argument. She’d dismissed him with a wave of her hand, her pride unwilling to entertain the notion that she needed an escort for something so trivial.

Now, her prize- a hefty tome on advanced magical theory- was clutched tightly under her arm, its worn leather cover radiating the promise of knowledge. She moved briskly, her dark hair swaying as she navigated the bustling street, her mind already racing ahead to the countless possibilities the book would unlock. The noise of the crowd seemed to fade as she glanced down at the book, her lips curving into a satisfied smile.

It wasn’t just the content that thrilled her- though the promise of unraveling complex magical concepts certainly did- it was the independence of it all. She’d insisted on going alone, had chosen the book herself, and now, with it safely in hand, she felt a sense of accomplishment she wouldn’t admit to anyone.

With her head held high and a quiet pride radiating from her, Ophelia turned her steps back toward the group, determined to reunite with Harry and the others before anyone could begin another lecture on responsibility. For now, though, the world felt bright, the possibilities endless, and she relished the brief moment of freedom.

That was when she heard it.

The cheerful hum of Diagon Alley faded into the background as a sharp, panicked cry reached Ophelia's ears. She froze mid-step, her heart skipping a beat as her gaze snapped toward a shadowy alley just ahead. The sound came again, muffled but unmistakably distressed. Her fingers instinctively tightened around the book she carried, and she shifted her weight forward, craning her neck to see.

In the dimness of the alley, two figures stood locked in a tense struggle. The taller one had the smaller pinned against the brick wall, his grip tight around the other’s collar. “You've got nerve, Pettigrew.” The smaller figure’s pale hair fell in messy strands across his face as he squirmed against the hold, his voice trembling.

“Please,” the blonde figure gasped, desperation lacing every syllable. “I’m sorry! I won’t look for you again. H-he won’t hear of your escape- not from me!”

Ophelia’s breath hitched. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she took in the scene. The smaller figure’s voice cracked with panic, his pale blue eyes wide and darting frantically. The taller figure, shrouded in shadows, stood silent and imposing, his wand raised. A faint, menacing glow illuminated the tip, the threat unmistakable.

She didn’t think. She didn’t pause. Her wand was in her hand in an instant, and she stepped into the mouth of the alley, her voice cutting through the tense air like a blade.

“Oi! Let him go!” She shouted, her tone sharp and commanding.

Both figures froze, their heads snapping toward her. The taller man’s wand lowered slightly, his body going rigid with hesitation. The smaller figure twisted his neck, his gaze locking onto hers, and for a fleeting moment, Ophelia saw a flash of something in his pale eyes- hope? Relief?

It didn’t last.

The blonde man’s lips parted, and before she could speak again, his body jerked unnaturally. The sound of cracking bones and tearing sinew filled the air, a grotesque symphony of transformation. Ophelia’s stomach churned as she watched the man’s form contort, shrinking and twisting. Within seconds, he was gone, replaced by a scruffy, dirt-streaked rat.

“What the- ?” The words barely escaped her lips before the rat lunged forward, its sharp teeth sinking into the taller man’s hand.

The man let out a hiss of pain, his grip faltering just enough to allow the rat to squirm free. In a blur of motion, it darted down the alley, disappearing into the shadows with a faint, scuttling sound.

Ophelia stood rooted to the spot, her wand trembling slightly in her grasp. Her wide eyes flicked from the spot where the rat had vanished to the man now turning toward her, his movements deliberate, his frustration radiating like heat.

As he stepped into the dim light filtering from the street, his features came into view. Sharp, angular lines carved a face that was both striking and unsettling. His dark hair fell messily across his brow, and his green eyes burned with a mixture of irritation and something else- something far more dangerous.

Ophelia squared her shoulders, her heart thundering in her chest but her chin lifting in defiance. She clutched her wand tightly, the poised elegance of her posture belying the unease bubbling beneath the surface. Every lesson her mother had taught her about composure echoed in her mind, steeling her nerves.

“Who do you think you are?” she demanded, her voice cold and cutting. “Picking on someone smaller than you in an alley? How pathetic.”

The man’s lips quirked into something that might have been a smirk, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He took a step closer, his tall frame casting an intimidating shadow. “And who,” he said, his voice low and measured, “do you think you are to interrupt something that doesn’t concern you?”

“I’m the girl who’s about to hex you into next week,” she shot back without missing a beat, her wand steady as she pointed it at his chest. “Back off, or you’ll find out just how much trouble a thirteen-year-old can cause.”

The man hesitated, his head tilting slightly as he studied her. His gaze dropped from her face to her neck, and his sharp eyes narrowed, honing in on the small magpie charm resting just above her collarbone. The faint light caught the delicate metal, and for a moment, his composure faltered.

“That,” he murmured, his voice strained, “isn’t yours.”

Ophelia’s brows furrowed, her hand instinctively rising to the charm. Her fingers brushed over the familiar metal as her mind raced. “What’s it to you?” she retorted, her tone sharp, her grip on her wand unwavering. “It was a gift.”

The man’s jaw tightened, and for a fleeting moment, something flickered across his face- recognition, anger, and a hint of something she couldn’t quite place. “Who gave it to you?” he demanded, his voice rougher now, almost desperate.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she straightened her spine, her wand tip glowing faintly as she met his intensity head-on. “That’s none of your business,” she said firmly.

He took another step forward, his green eyes blazing with an intensity that made her breath hitch. “I’ll ask you again,” he growled, his voice a dangerous whisper. “Who gave you that charm?”

Ophelia didn’t flinch. Instead, she tilted her chin higher, defiance sparking in her gaze. “My mom,” she said clearly, her voice carrying an unmistakable note of pride. Her lips curved into a faint, deliberate smile as she added, “You should know her. I’m a Potter, after all.”

The man froze. His entire body stiffened, his green eyes widening ever so slightly before narrowing again. Something shifted in his expression, a mixture of shock, pain, and anger that he quickly tried to mask. He stared at her as though he were seeing a ghost.

Ophelia arched an eyebrow, her confidence swelling as she saw the cracks in his composure. “Oh,” she said lightly, her tone dripping with mock disappointment, “don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about us. That would be awfully sad- we are war heros.”

The man’s lips pressed into a thin line, his hands twitching at his sides. He took a small step back, his expression unreadable as he muttered, “A Potter.”

“That’s right,” she said evenly, her wand still raised. “And unless you’d like to explain what you’re doing lurking in alleys, I suggest you leave.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he turned sharply on his heel and disappeared into the shadows without another word, leaving Ophelia standing in the mouth of the alley, her chest heaving as she tried to steady her breath.

She glanced down at the charm again, her fingers brushing over its surface. Who was that man? she wondered, a faint chill creeping down her spine. And why did the sight of this charm seem to haunt him so?

~~~

The Leaky Cauldron buzzed with its usual chatter, the comforting scent of roasted meat and freshly baked bread drifting through the warm air. You sat at a large table with James, Lily, Sirius, and Remus, laughing at one of Sirius’s over-the-top tales from Hogwarts. The lightness in the room felt like a rare and precious gift, a momentary escape from the shadow of battles fought and sacrifices endured.

The door swung open with a sharp creak, a gust of cool air sweeping in as Harry entered with Ron, Ginny, and Ophelia. Their cheeks were flushed from the bustling streets outside, their movements slightly hurried. Your gaze instinctively fell on Ophelia.

Something was wrong.

She lingered behind the others, her usual confident stride replaced with hesitant steps. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, as though trying to shield herself from the world. Her sharp features looked drawn, pale, and etched with unease.

“Oi, there they are!” Sirius called out, raising a hand in greeting. “Took you long enough. Did you stop for ice cream?”

Ron mumbled something about Fred and George dragging them into Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, but his words barely registered. Your focus stayed fixed on Ophelia as she slipped into the seat beside you. She didn’t look up, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her cloak, her head bowed like she was trying to disappear.

“Ophelia, love,” you said gently, leaning closer to her. “Everything alright?”

Her shoulders tensed, and for a moment, she said nothing. She just sat there, her hand brushing against the magpie charm around her neck. It was a small, almost subconscious motion, but it spoke volumes.

“Yeah,” she murmured after a pause, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her. “I’m fine.”

You frowned, your worry deepening. She was many things- brilliant, fiery, and determined- but never this quiet. You reached into your bag, pulling out a few Galleons, and slid them toward Harry, Ron, and Ginny. “Why don’t you three grab some ice cream for real this time? My treat.”

The three exchanged uncertain glances, but Ron was the first to shrug and stand. Harry hesitated, his concerned gaze darting toward his cousin, but eventually, he and Ginny followed Ron out of the pub.

The second they were gone, you turned back to Ophelia. “You don’t look fine,” you pressed softly. “What happened?”

Across the table, James and Lily shared a look, their worry mirrored in their expressions. Sirius, his usual joviality replaced with quiet intensity, leaned back in his chair, studying Ophelia closely. Even Remus put down his cup of tea, his sharp gaze focused on her.

Ophelia’s fingers twisted together in her lap, her head ducked low. “It’s nothing,” she muttered, her voice barely audible.

“Ophelia,” you said again, your tone a little firmer this time. “You can tell me. Whatever it is, I’m here.”

For a moment, she stayed quiet, the tension in her shoulders radiating like a pulse. Then, in a gesture so small it almost went unnoticed, she leaned into you. Her head rested against your arm, her nose pressing into the fabric of your sleeve.

You froze for half a second before wrapping an arm around her, pulling her close. She didn’t cry- Ophelia never cried- but the way she clung to you spoke louder than words. “Mom.” She muffled against your side. As if recharging her spent bravado and bravery in your arms. “Do we know a Pettigrew?”

954 notes · View notes

brokenmenswhore · 6 months ago

Text

crush | sirius black

pairing: sirius black x fem!reader (james’s sister)

summary: as james’s little sister, you’ve been around sirius most of your life and developed a bad crush. james doesn’t want sirius anywhere near you, but what can he do if he doesn’t know?

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+)

────── ☾ ──────

It started when you were nine. He was eleven.

Your brother, James, had invited his new friends over during the holiday break. He was excited to have made such good friends during his first year at Hogwarts, and he explained to your parents that one friend in particular preferred not to return home if he didn’t need to, and your parents were happy to host.

James introduced Sirius, Remus, and Peter to your parents, barely taking the time to introduce them to you. He quickly said “and that’s my sister,” and walked away, the boys following suit. Sirius, however, gave you a smile before walking away, his longer, dark hair falling slightly in front of his face. You returned his smile and blushed.

When you were eleven and he was thirteen, you were sorted into Hufflepuff during the sorting ceremony, and James sighed in relief that he wouldn’t have to deal with you being in the same house as him. You looked to his table to wave at him, but he turned away when he saw you, embarrassed by his little sister. Sirius, however, returned the wave.

When you were thirteen and he was fifteen, the Marauders hosted a party at the beginning of term, and you snuck in, desperate to be included. Fifth years were already drinking, but you weren’t ready to. James and Remus tried to pressure you into drinking, but Sirius ripped the bottle out of your hand and downed its entire contents in one large gulp. “Oops,” he shrugged, “guess she can’t drink it if it’s all gone.” You gave him a small smile as a thank you, and he gave you a nod.

Later that same year, when you heard the news that Sirius took Alice Fortescue’s virginity, and she was bragging about it, you felt a drop in the pit of your stomach. You were envious. You assumed Sirius got girls, he was much too gorgeous and confident not to, but hearing it spoken of make it so real, and it hurt. You liked him, and you were jealous.

When you were fifteen and he was seventeen, you were all at a party in Ravenclaw house, seated in a gigantic group of truth or dare.

“Truth or dare, Potter?” Dorcas asked, taking a hit of the blunt between his fingers.

“Dare, obviously,” you responded.

Dorcas let out a chuckle. “I dare you to make out with Black over here.”

You could feel the blush rise to your cheeks. You turned toward Sirius, who was nonchalantly slumped over on the couch. He was always so casual, as if nothing ever phased him. He took a drag from his cigarette, tapping the butt down on a tray as he blew out the smoke, then dropping the cigarette down and leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“No,” James interrupted, an amused chuckle leaving his lips, “she’s not doing that.”

You shot him a look.

“You’re not kissing my best friend. Sorry, sis,” he told you.

“Game’s got rules,” Sirius shrugged.

James glared at him. “This is disgusting, I can’t watch this.”

Sirius stood up and approached where you were sat cross-legged on the rug, dropping to his knees to meet your gaze.

“Do you accept the dare?” he nearly whispered, leaning his face toward yours.

You swallowed nervously, nodding your head yes as Sirius leaned in even more, tilting his head slightly to plant a soft kiss on your lips.

You reciprocated, your lips moving in unison as Dorcas teased you by cheering you on. Desperate to appear confident and in control, you tangled your fingers through Sirius’s hair, pulling him even closer to you as you deepened the kiss for a moment. He was so good at it, but you were hyper aware of the eyes on you, so you pulled away, dropping your hand from the back of his head.

Sirius remained close to you for a moment, exchanging a glance as he caught his breath.

“Okay, enough, enough, gross,” James said, pulling Sirius’s shoulder until he moved away from you.

The next morning, James was not happy with you as he caught up to you walking down the hall. “Can’t believe you kissed Sirius,” he said, jogging to reach your side.

“It was truth or dare, James, don’t be a baby,” you replied.

“You still got a thing for him, huh?” he teased, bumping your shoulder.

“No idea what you’re talking about,” you said, shifting your books in your arms.

“Oh, come on, you really think I can’t see it?”

You stopped short and turned to your brother. “What do you want, James?”

“I’ll tell you what I don’t want, and that’s for you to get all worked up over this. I know you’ve got a little crush on him, but Sirius isn’t that kind of guy. I just don’t want you to get yourself attached over a stupid game when, in reality, it’ll never happen.”

“Are you so defensive because you care about my feelings or because you don’t want me to like your best friend?” you retorted, slightly annoyed by James’s statement.

“Just keep your distance, okay? For both of our sakes,” he said, turning away from you to dip through one of the open classroom doors.

When you were sixteen and he was eighteen, you walked in on Sirius with another girl.

One of your friends let you into the Gryffindor common room in search of James. Your mother had sent for both of you, asking you to visit your father during a tumultuous week for his health. He was alright, but was in hospital, and your Heads of House had approved for both you and James to be absent for one week in order to visit him.

“James!” you called up the staircase, but to no avail. Classes were finished for the day, and Remus and Peter were seated at a table in the common room reading, so he wasn’t out with his friends.

You muttered to yourself, “…always fucking ignores me…” as you marched up the staircase, impatient at his constantly disregard for you as you swung the door to his dormitory open, and that’s when you saw Sirius and Mary McDonald. It was a genuine accident.

Mary squealed and pulled the sheets over her body, while Sirius simply pulled out of her, standing tall despite his nakedness, and turning to you as he, in no rush, picked his underwear up off the floor.

“Can we help you?” he asked, jumping into the fabric and running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair.

You were speechless. You were embarrassed by the act you had just witnessed, mad at Mary due to your jealousy, and completely enamored by the sight of of Sirius, first naked, and now in nothing but his boxers, his body glistening from sweat.

“I- I was looking for James, but I can see he’s not here, so-“ you quickly turned and shut the door behind you, pausing for a moment to take a deep breath. Taking a moment was a mistake, because Sirius swung the door open before you could escape down the staircase.

“He’s joined a study group in the library,” Sirius spoke, “promised to tutor some classmates in Transfiguration or some shit.”

You avoided making eye contact with Sirius, nodding your head and thanking him for the information as you moved to the first step of the staircase, but Sirius caught your wrist, pulling your attention back to him.

“Whatcha need him for, anyway?” he asked.

“Family stuff,” you responded, barely loud enough for Sirius to hear.

Sirius nodded. “You gave Mary in there a right good scare, Potter.”

“Right, well, sorry,” you responded, your jealousy allowing you to mask confidence in your voice. As hot as he looked, you felt angry. You knew it was irrational, but you were a sixteen year old girl, and you were jealous.

You got down five steps before Sirius spoke again. “We aren’t together, you know.”

You stopped short and turned your body up the stairs. “Why would I care?” you spoke, retreating down the rest of the steps and out of the common room to collect yourself and find your brother.

“Where’s Prongs?” Sirius asked the next morning, confused as to why only he and Remus were present in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

“Had to go see his dad, apparently he’s not feeling too good,” Remus explained, “his mom freaked out and had him come visit.”

Sirius nodded to gesture he was listening. “Y/N too?”

Remus furrowed his brows as he looked at Sirius. “I guess? I didn’t ask, didn’t think it mattered.”

Sirius diverted his attention to opening his book to the right page, eager to change the subject now that Remus was looking at him weird.

You and James returned in a week, arriving back to the castle early enough in the day to catch the midday break and the second block of classes.

You walked down the hallway with your brother, who caught up to his friends and gave them all a greeting. You and Sirius locked eyes, and you immediately blushed and sped away.

“The fuck was that about?” James asked, picking up on your unusual behavior.

“Probably just all weirded out now that she’s seen Sirius’s dick,” Remus joked, bumping Sirius’s shoulder playfully. James’s eyes widened as he looked at Sirius.

“Pardon?”

“It’s nothing, mate, she just walked in on me right before you guys left,” Sirius explained, trying to sound as calm and collected as possible.

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“What’s the big deal?” Sirius responded.

James took a deep breath. “Can you just, like, keep your distance?”

“What, from your sister?” Sirius asked for clarification.

“Yeah, from my sister,” James half-spat, “you can’t truly be so thick, Sirius. You know she likes you.”

He did not know.

James continued, “I love you, mate, but please not her. Seriously. Fuck around with whoever you want, just not my little sister. Anyone else.”

Sirius understood. “Who said I wanted to fuck your sister anyways?”

His phrasing only bothered James more. “I’m not kidding, Sirius. Not my little sister.”

Sirius threw his hands up. “Okay, jeez, I get it, I’ll keep my distance.”

When you were seventeen and he was nineteen, you met your first real boyfriend.

Evan was your age, a fact that thrilled James. You began to spend most of your time together, and you invited him to tag along to your brother’s extravagant New Year’s party.

When the clock struck midnight on January 1st, Evan wrapped an arm around your waist and kissed you, a move that turned your relationship from friendly but flirty to something much more. Your arms wrapped around his neck and you smiled as you pulled away, giving him another small kiss before he released your body from his own to grab the shot glass being handed to him by his friends.

You laughed as you watched him nearly choke on the shot. In a daze of laughter, your eyes caught Sirius, who was leaning against an empty doorframe across the room, drinking from a bottle and staring directly at you. You maintained eye contact for a moment, waiting to see if he would give you any sort of visual explanation as to why he was looking at you, but he didn’t move.

You still liked him, sure, but you liked Evan, too, and it had been six years. You couldn’t just pine after your brother’s best friend forever and not explore the perfectly good option directly in front of you.

In March, you gave your virginity to Evan. He was kind, and you were sure you were ready.

Sirius was acting weird around you, always finding an exit the moment you entered a conversation or a room he was in. You confronted James about it, and got into a rather heated argument about how James had no right to tell Sirius to stay away from you.

In June, James and your parents officially invited Sirius to live with you for the summer. It was brutal; Sirius was always around.

You would sneak into the kitchen first thing in the morning to make coffee the way you liked it, before anyone else could get their hands on the pot, and Sirius would be there. You would go to brush your teeth before bed, and Sirius would be brushing his hair in the bathroom mirror.

The worst part: Sirius spent most days poolside. Shirtless.

He enjoyed lounging out in the sun after a good swim, the water making his body glisten in the natural light as he adjusted his sunglasses, his dark hair slicked back from the wetness.

You stared at him from your second story window, admiring just how beautiful he truly was. He was so effortlessly perfect.

You considered joining him outside several times, but knew you would only be doing it so wear a bathing suit around him and hopefully tease him, if you even had the power to do so, and that wasn’t fair to Evan, but what the hell, it was your pool anyway.

You put on your bathing suit, draping a towel over your arm as you stepped outside, snapping Sirius out of his thoughts as he turned to you.

“Mind if I join?” you asked, slowly stepping into the water.

“It’s your house,” Sirius responded.

You swam a few laps before leaving the water, making a show of drying off your hair. Sirius kept his sunglasses on so that you couldn’t see him watch you, careful to heed James’s request to keep his distance from you, but he couldn’t help himself, you looked too good wet.

In October, you and Evan broke up. He was beginning to run with a crowd you didn’t want anything to do with, and you were gradually growing apart.

When you were eighteen and he was twenty, the Marauders hosted another party in honor of Peter’s twenty-first birthday. They were all staying at the unoccupied house of a mutual friend, and had more than enough space to go all out for the occasion. James invited you, having grown to appreciate you as a friend as you two got older.

“What a fucking dress,” Sirius said, leaning his back on the wall next to you.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to say shit like that to me?” you said, lightheartedly.

“Then don’t dress like that,” he said, eyes scanning up and down your body.

You blushed and dropped your head to hide it.

“Can you meet me upstairs in five?” Sirius asked.

You nodded your head yes without a second thought, giving him ample time to get upstairs alone before you left, so as not to raise suspicion. Your heart was pounding out of your chest.

You didn’t know what room he was in, having not thought that far ahead when he asked for you to meet him, so you lightly rapped your knuckles on every door until Sirius opened one, pulling you inside and softly clicking the door shut behind you.

“What’s up?” you asked, innocently.

Sirius smiled at you. “You’re not seriously asking me that.”

You were dumbfounded. There was no way Sirius called you up here for the reason you hoped he did. Absolutely no way.

“You like me, don’t you?” he asked, stepping closer to you.

“What? No, Sirius, why are you even-“

“You’re a big girl now, Y/N, we aren’t ten anymore. You have to tell me what you want.”

You swallowed back your nerves. “James is right downstairs.”

Sirius stepped even closer to you, grabbing your waist with his hand, “James doesn’t ever have to know.”

You gazed up at him. “I just-“ your voice trailed off. You didn’t know what to say.

“You want me?” Sirius asked, dipping his head to meet your lowered gaze.

“Maybe,” you giggled.

Sirius smiled, leaning back slightly to look you up and down, “cus I want you.”

You sighed and smiled due to your nervousness. “You never wanted me before.”

“Not true,” Sirius immediately defended himself, “the second I started to show it, your idiot brother made me promise to stay away from you.”

“What changed?”

“This dress, for starters,” he answered, “and the fact that James got wasted about forty minutes ago and is probably passed out by the pool right now. I can never get you alone.”

You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. “I’ve had a crush on you since I was like nine.”

“When we met over the holiday, right?” Sirius replied.

You looked at him in amazement. “How did you know that?”

“I was there, silly,” he teased, “and because I remember those things. James didn’t actually introduce us, but you still smiled at me.”

“I can’t believe you remember that,” you spoke in disbelief, causing Sirius to smile.

“Please don’t make me wait any longer,” he pleaded, pulling your hips against his and planting a few soft kisses on the side of your neck.

“But what if James-“

“Fuck James.”

You searched his eyes for any sign that he may have not meant what he said, but when you found none, you pulled him into a desperate kiss, anxious to taste him after years of wondering, reminiscing on the kiss you shared on a dare years earlier.

It was better than you could have imagined, his lips moving perfectly in sync with yours as his hands needily grabbed at your hips.

Your hand remained on the back of his head, nervous that without holding him against you, Sirius would pull away. All you wanted was to continue kissing him, forever.

He broke away from you to pepper kisses down your jawline and then down your neck, sucking at a sweet spot about halfway down the length of your throat.

You let out a whimper at the feeling, and Sirius pulled away and looked at you. He grabbed your jaw in his hand, turning your head until you were looking directly at him.

“What?” you breathed out.

Sirius didn’t respond, he just continued to hold onto your jaw, forcing you to tilt your head upwards and give him more access to your neck. His hand moved from your jaw to the other side of your neck, anchoring himself as he sucked and kissed the now bruised skin on your neck. You let out a high pitched whine, and he growled into your neck at the sound.

Each time you made a small noise, Sirius sucked harder, desperate to pull more and more sounds from you.

Sirius backed you up as he kissed you, taking small steps until your back hit the wall, allowing Sirius to pull away and press his body against yours. He took your face in his hands and kissed you hard, pressing his hips into yours and eliciting a moan from you as he began to grind into you.

He pulled back to look into your eyes, watching your body jolt slightly upwards each time he pressed his hips into yours.

“You remember when we kissed during truth or dare?” Sirius asked.

“Mhm,” you responded, breathy.

“I went back that night and touched myself thinking about it,” he told you, one of his hands finding its way to your throat, “thinking about you.”

The confession combined with the feeling of his clothed cock against your clit made you moan. You weren’t aware Sirius ever saw you the way you saw him.

You blushed, but Sirius wasn’t done taunting you. “Have you ever touched yourself and thought of me?”

Your cheeks only turned more red. “I- I-“ you were too embarrassed to answer.

“Tell me,” he demanded, holding your throat against the wall, his breath on your cheek, “or did Evan take good enough care of you?”

You nodded your head no, eager to appease him. “I- I thought of you when I did stuff, even when I was with him.”

Sirius growled at your confession. “Naughty little thing.”

Sirius hoisted one of your legs up to his waist, causing your dress to raise and bunch at your waistline, allowing Sirius access to your most sensitive area.

He ran a finger over your underwear, feeling the wetness soak through. Your back arched from his touch, your lips parting as Sirius ran his finger along the seam, slowly dipping his hand to run his finger between your folds.

“You’re so wet for me,” Sirius cooed, circling his finger around your clit.

You anchored yourself on his shoulders. Sirius’s eyes never left yours as he moved his fingers faster and faster, watching your back arch and your body react to his touch.

He slowly inserted two fingers into your soaking wet hole, setting a slow pace as he fucked you with his fingers.

He curled his fingers inside of you, hitting that particularly good spot within your walls, causing your legs to shake a little.

“Shit,” you whined, your head slamming against the wall the moment you threw it back. Sirius picked up the pace, watching your eyebrows crease in pleasure.

It wasn’t your first time, and you usually lasted longer, but years and years of pent up lusting over Sirius were taking their toll on you. “Sirius, fuck, I-“

“Aweh, gonna come for me already, doll? You like me that much?” Sirius teased.

“Y-yes,” you cried out.

Sirius sped up his actions even further, your climax hitting you as Sirius kissed you to swallow your moans. He pulled his fingers out of you after you came down from your high, locking eyes with you as he sucked your juices off of them. It was the most erotic thing you’d ever seen.

You began to slowly sink down against the wall, but Sirius grabbed your arms and pulled you back up. “Not today,” he stated.

“But-“

“But nothing,” he cut you off, “tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you. Don’t worry about me.”

“But what if I want to worry about-“

“Y/N, shut up.”

“I-“

“You’ve spent ages giving your attention to me. Let me repay the favor.”

You took a deep breath. “Okay,” you agreed.

“Now tell me what you want.”

You were embarrassed, and aroused by the dominance you had always daydreamed Sirius had in the bedroom. Looking up at him, him standing over you and demanding you tell him what you want, made you feel like the little girl that was so in awe of him the very first time you saw him.

“I want you,” you spoke.

Sirius smiled. “Good girl, but that’s not enough.”

“Please don’t make me say it,” you begged.

Sirius only looked at you expectantly, as if to say that he was, indeed, going to make you say it. You took a deep breath, and you could feel the heat in your cheeks. You were in the brink of having Sirius the way you had always wanted, and you were not going to let yourself get in your own way.

“I want you to fuck me, Sirius. Please.”

Sirius growled and pulled you over to the bed, pushing you down and crawling over you.

He roughly pushed your dress up to your waist, pulling your underwear down your legs and slapping your core. You jolted upward and gasped at the sudden pain.

Sirius unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them, along with his boxers, down. He ran a hand up and down the length of his shaft, poking the head of his cock through your folds.

You whimpered are the contact, and Sirius threw his head back, moving his cock through your folds and allowing for your wetness to lubricate him. The feeling was heavenly, but you needed more.

“Siri-“

The nickname almost drove him into a frenzy. You had never heard anyone call him that, it just came out. He grabbed your wrists, pinning them both above your head with one hand as the other lined his tip up with your entrance. “Fuck, keep calling me that.”

“Siri, please,” you begged, the anticipation nearly killing you.

Sirius gave you a wicked smile, pushing his cock into you until he bottomed out. Your back arched at the sensation, and Sirius took the opportunity to wrap an arm around your waist, holding you flush against him.

“Sirius, shit,” you whimpered. The angle was overwhelming.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Sirius whispered, his voice breathy as he began to push and pull in and out of you. He dropped his head into the crook of your neck, his black hair falling into his face.

Sirius maintained a steady pace for a few moments, allowing you to adjust to his size.

Sirius was putting even more pressure on your wrists with each thrust, leaning his weight onto them as he tried to maintain self control, but you felt so fucking good underneath him. You could see him struggling, trying to keep the slower pace for your sake, but that’s not what you wanted either.

“Siri,” you said, catching his attention as he lifted his head to meet your gaze, “harder.”

“You sure?” he checked.

“Fuck me, Siri, please.”

Your begging was enough for him to let his self control go, pulling your waist even closer to him (and subsequently even higher) as he picked up the pace, snapping his hips against yours with each violent thrust. Sirius let go of your wrists to hold his weight up with an arm next to your head.

He kissed your neck, sucking on a sweet spot just below your earlobe. You whined and moaned, completely wound up in the pleasure you had touched yourself thinking about for so long. You had a crush on Sirius for forever, and finally getting to feel him inside of you, holding you, grunting in your ear, kissing down your neck-

You began to squeeze Sirius’s cock, your second orgasm approaching rapidly as your brain reminded itself how long you had wanted this. The feeling only made Sirius more feral, his thrusts becoming harder and his pubic bone hitting your clit with each snap of his hips.

“Sirius, I- I’m-“

“Fuck yes come for me,” Sirius said, fucking you as hard as he possible could.

You came with a loud cry of his name, your thighs shaking as you squeezed around Sirius’s cock.

The feeling was nearly too much for him, but he was determined not to let go yet. He slowed his pace to an excruciatingly slow push and pull as you rode out your high, giving you time to breathe before he started to fuck into you again.

Your body was convulsing beneath him, your juices coating his cock and allowing for even more lubrication, and you could hear the wetness with each hit of his hips.

You were overstimulated, and therefore no longer in control of the high pitched noises leaving your lips, egging Sirius on even more. You were on the brink of crying, it felt so good, and when Sirius heard a cry-like crack in your voice, he rutted his hips into you a final few times before he pulled out of you, cursing as he spilled his seed onto your stomach.

He took a moment to collect himself, pressing his forehead against yours as you both calmed your breathing. He then rolled over to lay down next to you. You turned to face one another, and you began to run your fingers through his hair, twirling a face-framing strand around your pointer as he smiled at you.

You were pulled out of your daze when there was a violent rapping against the door. “Pads! You in there? Open up.”

James.

You scrambled to stand and fix your hair, pulling your dress down and doing your best to keep quiet.

“Whatcha want?” Sirius called back. You glared daggers his direction for responding. “How is he even still standing?” Sirius whispered to you, referencing how drunk James had been earlier.

“You gotta come see this,” James responded, opening the door slightly. You ran behind the door, trying to hide from your brother and hoping he wouldn’t fully enter the room. “Are you at least a little decent? Who you got in here?” James didn’t have a care in the world when he was drunk.

Sirius ran up to the door, a blanket in the hand he held over his bottom half to cover himself. He grabbed the door and prevented James from opening it any further. “No one, what are you tryna show me?”

“At least put pants on,” James said, turning his back to the doorway, “I’ll be out here. Christ, Pads.”

Sirius shut the door, rushing to the bed to find his clothes and cover himself before re-approaching the door. He leaned over to you, giving you a genuine smile before placing a sweet, intimate kiss on your lips. He pulled away and you exchanged a glance, your cheeks red and a smile on your face, before Sirius opened the door and left the room.

#sirius black #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagines #sirius black smut #sirius black fanfic #marauders #marauders era #marauders x reader #marauders era imagines #marauders era smut #marauders era fanfic

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

Note

Hi Mae!! I would love to read more about the dynamic between poly!marauders and reader. Like maybe some domestic fluff just showing the interaction between the boys and with reader. I love the way you write true poly with the boys together too 🥹🤍

Hi lovely, thanks for requesting!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

“Shit!” Sirius hisses, another piece of popcorn splintering off his string. It’s nearly all cranberries at this point, and half the length of either yours or Remus’. “How are yours not breaking?”

“Patience,” Remus preaches, eyes on his needle as he slides it smoothly through yet another popcorn kernel.

“Sounds made up,” James scoffs. The remains of his own popcorn are littered about his lap and his fingers are stained pink with cranberry juice. His problems lie in inaccuracy as much as impatience, constantly getting ahead of himself and pricking his fingers rather than his target. Fortunately, Rugby Captain James Potter is no stranger to pain, so he only extends the injured finger towards where you sit on the floor for you to kiss each time before resuming his work.

“Completely agree.” Sirius is quick to hop on James’ half-constructed bandwagon. “They’re conspiring against us, keeping the real secrets of success to themselves.”

“They’re focussing on their work,” you say, grinning when Sirius’ foot nudges your shoulder meanly, “which is how they keep from messing up.”

“Cruel,” he murmurs, but you only hum, a wordless You know I’m right. And he does, because he goes quiet.

James could never stand silence. “It’s almost cold enough for a fire,” he remarks after nearly five seconds of it. “Maybe we could have one tomorrow?”

“You just want to chop firewood,” Remus accuses.

“I don’t mind,” you say quietly, looking down at your hands, and Sirius nods emphatically. Another piece of popcorn shatters in his hands, bits of it hitting your shoulder.

“Yeah, don’t deter him.”

“I don’t even get to chop it anymore since you started buying it at Tesco,” James complains, shooting Remus a resentful look. “Now I just want to watch fire. It’s the last caveman’s pleasure you’ve left me.”

You glance over, and Remus is looking downward, trying and failing to quell his smile. “Fine,” he relents. “We can pick some up tomorrow and have a fire.”

“Yes!” James leans around Sirius, planting a smacking kiss on Remus’ cheek. “Thank you.”

“S’no problem.” Remus has gone all soft and blushy. You and Sirius exchange a fond, knowing look.

“Hey, do you think we could pick up some of those gingerbread house kits while we’re there?” you ask the room. “We didn’t get a chance to do those last year.”

“Patience,” Remus reminds you, recovering. “It’s hardly the end of November, we’ve got a whole month for that.”

Your mouth pulls dissatisfiedly. “Yeah, but last year we thought the same thing and then we ran out of time.”

“You know what we should do?” James perks up. “Have a competition! Whoever makes the best gingerbread house in under an hour gets—”

“No,” you all say on top of each other.

You shake your head. “It’ll take all the fun out of it, Jamie.”

“You can’t put a time limit on creativity,” Sirius agrees. “Hey, I got three in a row!” He beams, holding his garland up for Remus’ approval, and the other boy appraises it for a second, nodding sagely.

“Well done.”

“Sorry,” you tell James, who’s still pouting after the hasty shut-down of his idea. “We can race at something else if you want to, but that sort of stuff is supposed to be more…”

“Peaceful,” Remus supplies, and you nod relievedly.

“Exactly.”

“S’fine,” James sulks. He sticks his needle through a cranberry, a pitiful whine escaping him when it comes out the other side harsher than he’d expected. He extends his hand toward you palm up, and you take it, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of his finger. “Mm, now here.” He leans down, tapping the corner of his mouth. You smile, pecking him sweetly on the lips. He tastes like the peppermint chapstick he uses this time of year, which you love and Sirius abhors (he thinks all mint tastes like toothpaste). “Alright,” James says, lips curving against yours, “now it’s actually fine.”

“Scoundrel,” Sirius accuses. “My poor darling, do you feel used?”

“Not terribly,” you admit, but it’s no deterrence to Sirius, who reaches down to haul you into his lap. Your garland trails after you, overlapping with his. You settle in contentedly.

“Who’s the scoundrel now,” James objects. “You can’t just move her about like she’s got no will of her own.”

You’re perfectly happy to be wherever they want you, but you aren’t going to say that. “Does anyone fancy a hot chocolate? I just got those peppermint marshmallows.”

Sirius makes a face. “No thanks. James, make the girl a hot chocolate.”

“Why me?” James objects.

“I’ll have one too,” Remus says.

“It’s her idea, why doesn’t she make them?”

“Because she,” Sirius says, weaving his arms under yours to resume stringing up his garland in front of you, “is occupied. Go on.”

James grumbles, but sets down his work.

“Sorry,” you say, making your eyes extra big. It’s half sincere apology, half completely unapologetic beguilement, and James cracks quickly, kissing your cheek to show he’s not really upset. Then he kisses Sirius too, just for fun.

“I wanted a hot chocolate anyway,” he says, heading into the kitchen.

You fall into an easy silence as he works, the kettle gurgling in the background while you relax against Sirius’ chest, nearly finished with your garland. You wonder if you should offer to do his for him, even though you know the other two will definitely make fun of you for letting him off the hook. You think you will anyway.

“Oh!” Sirius straightens, causing you to shift against him uncomfortably. He ignores the slighted look you send him, bringing a hand to your shoulder to hold you more securely against him. You’re easily pacified. “If you want to have a competition, you and y/n should have a race for who can wrap the most presents.” He looks at you. “You’re always saying you love wrapping, yeah sweetheart?”

The endearment only slightly softens the look you’re giving him. Must everyone try to ruin your holiday rituals with racing and competitions? You know he’s only brought it up out of selfishness, too; Sirius hates wrapping gifts, and this is just another way for him to push the labor off on James and you.

James, unfortunately, lights brighter than the tree you’d set up earlier that day. “Yeah!” He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet. Remus eyes the boiling water he’s pouring out at the same time warily. “What do you say, lovie? Maybe a couple of days before Christmas we can divvy up the presents that aren’t for us, then we just see who finishes first!”

“Didn’t you already lose that competition the other night?” Remus quips. Sirius erupts in laughter behind you, but James only shoots him a hostile look (or his version of a hostile look, more of a squint than anything) before his eyes flit back to you hopefully.

You roll your eyes, but this is one competition you think you might actually win. “Fine,” you say, smiling when he pumps his fist. “But I don’t think you know what you’re getting into, Potter. My gift wrapping skills are legendary.”

“Oh, my love,” James croons, grinning as he carries in two mugs of hot chocolate. “My sweet, naive girl.” He passes one to Remus and the other to you, dropping a kiss on your temple. “I won’t go easy on you this time.”

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coyotelip · 17 days ago

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starchaser microfic: break || old married couple || @into-the-jeggyverse || wc: 682

When you've been together for twenty years, thirteen of them married, everything seems familiar and can't be surprising, especially when it comes to sex life.

However, as soon as James crosses the forty-year mark, officially entering the risk zone of a midlife crisis, instead of getting unhealthy obsession with motorcycles or reality TV shows, he discovers a new passion. Although, to be more precise, it's a long-forgotten passion that's gaining strength again - James is a morning sex addict.

He adores any kind of sex - it would be strange for a star player to have a low libido - but with years of stable family life, his passion has faded. So it came as a surprise to Regulus when James started making these little gestures again. Pressing him against the kitchen counter for a deep kiss. Pulling him up and putting him on his lap when Regulus just walks by the couch. Abruptly picking him up under the hips and carrying him to the bedroom when they have some wine. It makes Regulus feel like he's in his mid-twenties again, and they've only just started living together. In his mind, he calls it a new honeymoon.

However, Regulus' favorite part is waking up. Because now it's not the alarm clock or a headache that wakes him up, no.

Now he wakes up to the feeling of hands on his hips, sliding under the covers over his bare skin. For the first time in many years, Regulus stopped putting on his pajama pants to feel skin on skin.

He wakes up to hot breath on his neck where James leaves subtle kisses. As soon as Regulus' first (fake) disgruntled moan escapes his lips, the kisses become more expressive, his lips pressing against his skin longer. James' thigh confidently squeezes between Regulus' knees to rest between his legs, pressing against his noticeable morning hard-on.

The urge to start rubbing himself against the hard thigh that presses so perfectly against his boner is strong, but Regulus tries to be reasonable. This behavior doesn't seem very appropriate for his respective age – even no matter how sexy his man looks with his morning bush of hair and soft kisses.

“Mmm, Jamie… I have to get up,” he says, the same thing he says every morning now. Knowing in advance that it won't work, but sometimes marriage is about the desire to always create at least a little conflict. A life without conflict at all always seemed too boring, especially for people like Regulus and James.

“Noooo.” James replies, somehow not even breaking away from his neck. His kisses slowly descend to his collarbone, exposed out of his shirt. “Don't leave me.”

“I just want to make coffee and breakfast, I'm not even leaving the house today, James. It's Saturday. I'll be with you all day,” a smile spreads across Regulus‘ lips as James’ grip tightens on his hips, as if to hold him down by force. If Regulus had wanted to, he would have been out of bed long ago.

“But you'll leave me in this bed alone and it will break my heart. You don't want to break my heart, do you?” and James looks him in the eye for the first time that day.

The sparkle in those big brown eyes is something Regulus never gets tired of. It's consistently one of the most beautiful things he's ever seen in his life - better than even the many travels they've had behind them. The man's skin might have acquired new lines, his hair might have changed color, but James' eyes would forever remain the same as those of the young man who made Regulus fall in love with him.

That's why Regulus' voice sounds weak and unbelievable when he says, “I won't fall for your natural charm, Potter. You'll need something better to get me into bed.”

“Oh, I don't need to get you into bed, because you're already here,” his smile is a predatory, smug grin. “I just need to keep you here. And I'm going to make you feel so good you'll want to stay longer.”

#marauders #regulus black #james potter #jegulus #starchaser #sunseeker #married jegulus

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flusteredmoonn · 2 months ago

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last christmas; remus lupin

summary: "i wrapped it up, with a note saying 'i love you' i meant it," in which after years and years of friendship, he's nervous to confess his feelings.

tags: (SFW), angst, attempted angst to fluff, implied pre-existed relationship, she/her pronouns, fem!reader, third person y/n

words: 850+

the holiday collection. request.

snow surrounded the potter's estate, the jukebox charmed to hum merry melodies as christmas decor was wrapped throughout the entire house. james had invited his friends around to his parent's house for christmas, a tradition started in the early years of their time at hogwarts, and had continued through to their adulthood. it was something that in spite of whatever loomed on the other side of the door had kept the group together.

sirius and james had been running around the house, boxes of decorations in hand as they put hung ornaments throughout the house. the sweet smell of eggnog and gingerbread lingered between the rooms as james' parents had busied themselves with cooking festive treats in the kitchen whilst remus and y/n decorated the main tree in the living room.

boxes were strewn around the room, various red, green, and gold spilling from them. she danced and swayed to the beat of the music, hanging ornaments methodically throughout the faux pine needles. digging through a box in the corner, remus glanced up for a moment, watching the way y/n found joy in the tradition, eager to make the potter estate feel cosy at christmas. a small smile had found it's way onto his face, the same way it had in first year when she made sure that she was included in the maraudic group's antics. she glanced over at him as if to show pride in her progress with the tree, reciprocating the smile already on his face.

"have you seen the garland with the little holly's on it?" he suddenly asked her, standing up fully.

"uh.." she hummed in thought, "have you tried to box over there?" she said after a while, pointing to a box closer to the fireplace. she herself moved over to it, crouching to sift through the contents of it. remus shook his head, before moving to a different box to look for the remaining garland for the entryway.

"aha" the girl exclaimed joyously after a while, excitedly pulling the holly garland out of the box she had been searching and showing it to remus. she walked over to him, handing it to the boy with a small "there you go"

"why thank you" he mused, moving away to string it up and complete the display as y/n put the star at very top of the tree. just as she did so, james and sirius had made their way down the stairs, laughing amongst them and carrying empty boxes as a receipt of their work.

as the night went on, euphemia and fleamont had finished their preparations for christmas day. the fire crackled as it was stoked, the potter's and their guests having fun into the night, perked up on the anticipation of the day to follow. eventually, the owls began to coo and the trees began to rustle, signalling that it was time for everyone to take themselves upstairs to get ready and into bed.

the six of them climbed the stairs, and manoeuvred through the corridor before forking off into different corridors or rooms until it was just remus and y/n left. a blanket of silence was wrapped around them as the moved through the house, until remus' door was in sight. he paused in front of it, hand hovering over the brass handle as he fought an internal battle. however, he soon moved rather quickly, muttering a quick 'wait here' before disappearing behind the door he had just been hesitating in front of.

after a beat, he reappeared from the void of darkness in his room, a colourfully wrapped box in his hand. "here you go," he rushed, holding the box out to y/n, "merry christmas," he smiled at her.

"oh, remus," she said quietly, "thank you," she moved to detach the card on top of the box, only to frantically told to open it once she gets to her room. with a nod and an awkward farewell, she turned on her heel and walked the rest of the way down the corridor to her bedroom.

pushing the door softly shut behind her, she leant against it, fingers making delicate work of opening the box. she revealed a necklace, with a singular pendant of a wolf on it. smiling, she clasped it on herself, bringing her hand to it as she read the card that had been attached. a smile was etched on her face as she realised he had written her a letter, in his signature scrawny writing, as he detailed the depth of his feelings for her.

determination in her step, she marched back down the corridor, softly knocking on remus' door. it swung open in front of her, and she wasted no time wrapping her arms around his shoulders. confused, yet relieved, he wrapped his arms around her waist, sighing in relief as the charmed jukebox hummed faintly in the background, the clock ticking over to midnight.

#*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 🎄#*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐧'𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐲 #*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 #*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐞𝐫𝐚 #*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 #*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 #*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐥𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧 #*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐮𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 #harry potter universe #hpcu #marauders era #hp marauders #marauders fanfic #the holiday collection taylor swift #taylor swift #the holiday collection #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #regulus black x reader #masterlist #christmas

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masonmyluv · 1 year ago

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Birthday present - Pedri Gonzalez

A/N: A little something I wrote for his bday🤭 Happy birthday to this cutie aka Pedri Potter Gonzalez Lopez 💙🎉

Warnings: smut 18+ 🔞🔞🔞

"Pablo, I told you I don't want to celebrate"

"But it's your birthday!"

"We have an important game tomorrow" Pedri said. "So? We should at least sing you happy birthday" Pablo said, dragging Pedri inside the locker room. Pablo double-checked your text earlier, saying that you landed safely and were about to pick the cake.

"Happy birthday!!!" Everyone yelled when Pedri entered the room. "Yeah thanks guys" he smiled. "Happy birthday my guy" Ferran said, hugging him. "W-what..." Pedri was at loss of words when he noticed you behind Ferran's back. "Surprise" you giggled. "How... you..." he was at loss of words as he pulled you into a tight hug. "I feel betrayed" Ferran joked. "Missed you" Pedri whispered into your neck. "Missed you too, my love" you said, pecking his lips. "Happy" kiss "birthday" kiss "to the best" kiss "boyfriend" kiss "in the world" kiss.

"Okay get a room" Ferran shouted. "You brought cake?" Pedri asked. "Yes, and everyone is allowed to eat" Xavi said, already on his second slice, which he thought no one saw, but you did. Hehe. Everyone sat down, eating cake, all except Pedri. He was looking at you and playing with your fingers. "You okay? The cake is really good" you said, mouth full of cake. "Yeah... just happy you're here" he said, kissing the top of your head. "You don't seem really happy" Pablo butted in. "Tomorrow I'll be at the game wearing your t-shirt" you whispered. "And tomorrow I'll give you the other present" you added so that no one could hear. "Now he's smiling" Pablo smirked. "I wonder what you told him". "Nothing" Pedri replied too fast. "Mhm" Pablo said. You shot him a look, but couldn't be mad at him. After all, he was the one who helped you plan the surprise for your boyfriend, so you were thankful to have a friend like him.

—— day of the game ——

"Good luck, guapo" you whispered, kissing him passionately. "Mhm... don't want to let you go" he said, hands squeezing your ass. "Get a room" Ferran shouted. "I promise. Tonight" you said, pecking his lips again. Little did he know you will be busy that night, but not in the sexy way.

After the game, in which he scored, you were on your way to his place. "Are you okay? You don't seem that excited after a goal" you asked. You knew something was wrong with him since you kissed him after the game. Usually, he would talk you through the whole game, but now he was surprisingly quiet. "No, sorry, I really am. But..." he said. "I wish my parents were here. And Fer. He didn't even wish me happy birthday" he said and you could cry in that moment, telling him that they were waiting for him at home. "Oh Pedri, I'm sure he will" you said, texting Fer that you were on the way. This man, this man right here made your ovaries explode at how much he cared about his family. "I wish they were at the game too. Together with you. Supporting me. But they said they were too busy to fly here" he said thought greeted teeth. You bit your tongue, not wanting to ruin the surprise, but he was making it hard. Fucking ovaries, slow down. "They said they'll come in the weekend, no?" You asked. "Yeah, but it's not the same thing" he said defeated, parking the car. "Hey... look at me. It's your birthday and they love you, I'm sure they have something for you" you said, pecking his lips. "I hope you're right".

"Sorpresaaaa!!!"

Pedri remained like a statue in the door when he saw his family inside his house. "Don't you think we forgot about your birthday, you fucking idiot!" Fer said, hugging his brother. "You're an idiot" he repeated, fighting his little brother. Pedri then went to hug his parents. "If it wasn't for Y/N..." Fer said, bringing his attention back to you. "It was her idea. All this. And we were her accomplices" Fer grinned. Pedri ran to hug you tightly, whispering just how much he loves you. "I love you too, guapo. Now, let's celebrate" you said as Fer handed you a glass of champagne.

You talked with his mom about the match, then Pedri was curious how they couldn't make it to the game. Their flight got delayed, but you had this brilliant idea to wait for him home. "Wow... my girlfriend is really special, isn't she?" Pedri said, kissing the top of your head. "And now she'll say oh no, I didn't do anything" Ferran said, imitating your voice. "Hey!" You pouted, but still laughed at his joke.

"Hey! Where is the birthday boy?" Ferran asked after you had dinner. The birthday boy was sucking his girlfriend's face in the kitchen. "Tell me they aren't sleeping here" Pedri asked, sucking on your neck. "No. They're staying at Fer. Be patient, Pedri" you said, pushing him away. "I want you, amor" he whispered. "I know. I want to properly wish you a happy birthday too" you said, hugging him. "Ah he's here, where else he could be?" Fer said, seeing your flushed faces. "Slow down, cabron. We'll leave in a minute" Fer said. You bid your goodbyes to his family, promising to have breakfast with them in the city. "If you won't be busy" Fer winked before the left.

"Finally" Pedri said, hungrily kissing you. "Pedri... stop" you said, pushing him away. "What? Did I do something?" He asked panicked. "No, I just want to properly give you my present" you giggled, taking his hand and running to your shared bedroom. "Just wait here and be naked" you winked before disappearing into the bathroom to put on the new set of lingerie you bought special for this occasion. Meanwhile, Pedri undressed himself until his boxers, impatiently waiting for you. "You ready?" You asked from the bathroom. "Yeah..." he replied instantly.

"Fuck baby... I could come in my pants right now" he groaned, as you cat walked to him, pushing him down on the mattress. "What do you like more, Papi?" You asked, pulling his boxers down and eyeing him up and down. "Fuck me" he groaned as you sat on his thigh. "What do you like, Papi?". "Those panties, princess. I can feel you dripping on me" he smirked and you blushed. "Let me make you feel good, papi" you said, kneeling in front of him. "You wanna suck me? Come get it" he smirked as you lowered your lips to brush against his tip. He shuddered as you lips wrapped around him. "Looks so good princess. My cock into your pretty mouth" he said. When he hit the back of your throat, you both let out a moan. "Fuck baby... just like that" he praised, fucking your face. Your nails dug into his thighs, leaving marks behind, but he didn't care. He wanted you to mark him up for everyone to see.

"Let me give you your present Papi" you pouted when he pulled out of your mouth. "Wanna come inside your pussy, baby. Now lay back and relax" he said, dipping his head into your core. "But Papi, it's supposed to be about you tonight" you moaned as he pleasured you with his tongue. "It's also about you, mi amor" he said. "Giving me, hm, let's say, 5 orgasms" he said. "It's too much, Papi" you moaned, already close to the first one. "I know you can. You're my good girl" he said, sucking harshly on your clit, triggering your orgasm. "Fuck Pedri..." you moaned when he pushed a finger inside. "So sweet for me, love" he praised, seeing how you closed your eyes in pleasure when he added another finger into your hole. "F-fuck..." you moaned again, his fingers brushing your G-spot. "Orgasm number 2 incoming" he chuckled as you rode his fingers and came.

"Papi please fuck me" you said as he teased your hole with the tip of his dick. "I'll fuck you so good, baby... you won't be able to walk tomorrow" he said. "Good thing you have the day free" you said as he pushed all the way in. "So tight and warm" he praised, moving a little to test the waters. But after two orgasms, you were more than ready to take him, so he thrusted harder. While he fucked your cunt, he suck on your breasts, pleasuring your hardening nipples while you were a moaning mess. "Orgasm number 3... let go, love" he said and you moaned louder as you came on his dick. He pulled out, waiting for you to regain your breath before flipping you on your stomach. "Pepi... can't" you whined as he helped you on all fours. "I know you can" he said, harshly slapping your ass. "You're my good good girl" he said, plunging himself back into you. You moaned, over sensitive, his dick feeling much deeper as he fucked you from behind. "Papi... fuck..." you moaned as he continued slapping your ass. "Take it like a good girl" he groaned and you could feel his breath on your neck. "You're doing so good for the birthday boy" he praised, pressing a kiss to your ear. "Only for you, Pedri" you moaned, feeling another orgasm coming. "Yes, baby, only I can fuck you like this" he groaned as he felt you clenching again. "Let go when you're ready, love" he whispered. You cried as you came and he spilled himself into you, breathing heavily. He didn't pull out right away and you knew why. You squirted all over him, your wetness dripping down your legs. He finally pulled away, helping you on your back as you were too embarrassed of what just happened. "I'm... I'm sorry" you shuttered, seeing what a mess you made on the bed. "Love, hey... that's the best present you could've given me" he said, pecking your lips. "I'm helping you clean yourself yeah?" He asked and you nodded, him bringing a wet cloth to wipe everything off.

"The best present ever" he said as you laid your head on his chest. "Happy birthday, Pedri. Love you so much" you yawned. "Love you too, baby. You still have to give me one orgasm, so don't forget about that" he chuckled. "Of course, Pepi. But I have to rest, you know" you said, blushing. "I know" he smirked. "Night Pepi" you said, falling asleep on his chest as he played with your hair. "Night, love" he whispered, kissing the top of your head.

— next morning —

"Mhmm Pedri" you moaned as his head was between your legs again. "Pedri!" "What?" He asked. "We had to have breakfast with your parents" you said as he continued pleasuring you with his tongue. "I'm having my breakfast right now" he smirked, licking your wetness. "Fuck... we'll go after this" you moaned. "If you're able to walk, love" he grinned. "Pedri... fuck" you moaned as you came on his face. "And that's the fifth orgasm. You're welcome" he grinned, hugging you. "Te amo, Papi" you whispered. "Still want to go?" He asked. "No" you yawned, cuddling into his chest. "Good. Prepare for a lot of teasing from Ferran" he laughed. "I don't care when I have you" you mumbled. "I know. Me neither. Plus, he's jealous he ain't got a chick in his bed" he joked. "Good thing you have" you replied. "I have a girlfriend and that's even better" he said, pecking your lips.

Hope you like it 🩷

#pedri gonzalez #pedri gonzalez imagine #pedri gonzales smut #pedri fluff #pedri smut #pedri blurb #pedri one shot #pedri x reader #pedri imagine #pedri #football imagine

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little-riddles · 7 days ago

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hope | two

pairing: sirius black x female!potter!reader word count: 4.2k warnings: none

past | masterlist | next

it was a quiet, cold morning in september when james potter awoke to the screaming match coming from down the corridor from him, which seemed to be happening more and more frequently the closer they got to his sister attending hogwarts. he recalled a previous argument after his sister discovered she wouldn't be able to bring her broomstick to Hogwarts.

"what do you mean i can't bring mine with me? why can james then?" an enraged y/n shouted as she flew down from where she and her brother had been playing with a quaffle they'd found in the shed.

"first years can't bring their own brooms. it says so in your acceptance letter if you'd dare to read past the first two sentences." fleamont rolled his eyes, not looking up from reading his newspaper to see the anger written across his daughter's face.

"but that's not fair. i should've been a second-year at this point, so why can't i be the exception?" y/n threw her broom to the ground, regretting it immediately as she heard the snap of the handle.

"childish behaviour exactly like this is exactly why you won't be taking your broomstick to hogwarts. end of discussion." their father didn't break eye contact with his newspaper as he broke the girl's dreams.

"ugh! this is so unfair!" y/n stormed back through the conservatory door, her stomping on the stairs being heard loud and clear from the garden.

"and she wonders why she's going into first and not second year." fleamont scoffed, taking a sip of his cup of tea.

james sighed and pushed himself out of the comfort of his bed, stumbling down the corridor to find his sister's bedroom in tatters as her trunk still remained half-packed with her robes and textbooks. their father stood beside her trunk holding a familiar creature by its tail as a waterfall of the silverware of the house fell in a heap on the floor. with one final shake, their mother's engagement ring finally fell at the peak of the pile.

"i knew you were stealing, you little rat." fleamont gritted his teeth as he dropped the animal without a care for its health and plucked the ring from the scatterings of her floor.

"dad, he just likes shiny things. you know this." y/n whined, scooping up the niffler from the heap he'd left him in and shushing him and Jamie whined in her arms. "and you didn't need to shake him like that. he would've handed it over if you asked nicely. i trained him to."

"i don't care if you think you've trained him, that thing is out of control." he hissed, snapping his fingers for a house elf to come and clear away the silverware."ribly! coopey!"

ribly appeared in the room, followed by coopey, james' personal house-elf, who ran towards james with a familiar envelope in his hands. the lettering of his name was near perfect, a clear sign of the hands of sirius black.

"this one just arrived for you, master james." coopey didn't wait long before he swept up the silverware into a sack and snapped back out of the room with ribly following suit.

"dad, i can keep him in control. he's just bored." y/n sat on her unmade bed, a sign that she had not long woken from her slumber.

"bored?" fleamont asked incredulously, sweeping past his son with a quirked eyebrow. "if he's bored then let him free."

"but he's never been outside before. what will he do if he gets hungry or gets cold?" y/n cuddled the niffler closer to her chest and he, in turn, cuddled his snout against her chin.

"he's an animal, y/n. he'll be fine." he said, finally turning to assess the damage done to his daughter's room. "clean up in here. we'll be leaving early in the morning for king's cross. i don't want to have to clean up after that creature as well as you when we return."

"but i thought jamie was coming with me? professor dumbledore agreed that i could." y/n stood from her bed, already reaching for the parchment that said the same thing.

"i don't care what dumbledore has said, you're not taking him with you." fleamont sighed, on his last straw with his daughter at this point.

"but, dad." y/n pouted, already knowing that she couldn't fight her father on this. "he'll be good. i'll make sure of it. you'll never even know he was there with me. n'll even-"

"y/n cordelia potter! you are not taking that creature with you to hogwarts and that is final!" fleamont slammed the door behind him with such a harsh tug that it rattled the paintings plastering her bedroom walls.

y/n glared at the floor angrily, her hands shaking as she tried to soothe the shivering niffler in her arms. tears streamed down her face as she refused to look into the pitying eyes of her brother who remained motionless by her bedroom door.

"i just wanted to have a friend at hogwarts." she sniffled, standing to put jamie back into his cage.

"but you'll have me, and the boys. and i'm sure lily and the others will accept you into their group." james came to sit on his sister's bed, hugging one of her stuffed animals to his chest.

"but i'm not going to be in your year, jamie." y/n huffed, throwing her clothes that had become her carpet over the past few days into her laundry basket. "i might not even be in your house."

"what are you talking about, y/n/n? of course, you're going to be in gryffindor." james scoffed.

"but what if i'm not? what if i'm sorted into hufflepuff, or ravenclaw, or even slytherin? i couldn't face mum and dad if i was a slytherin." she shuddered at the thought of the disgust in her parent's eyes if she returned for the holidays.

"well, just tell the hat just that then. just say not slytherin. anything but slytherin." james grinned at his sister, remembering uttering the exact same words just last year.

"and it'll listen to me?" y/n huffed, lifting her head from where she'd been buried in the mass of clothes.

"it will if you actually make it to hogwarts and don't get suffocated to death by all of your clothes." their mother's voice carried through the open doorway she'd popped her head through. "i heard your father yelling. you okay, dear?"

"i'm okay, mum." y/n stared longingly at the sulking niffler in the corner of his cage. "i'm just going to miss jamie whilst i'm at hogwarts."

"you know why he can't go with you, dear. he would just cause too much chaos. it's bad enough with the amount that your brother and his friends cause." euphemia gave her son a pointed stare before starting to close the door behind her. "clean up in here, dinner will be ready soon."

silence once again fell over the room, only the sounds of y/n slowly moving her laundry basket out of the corner of the room where a mountain of clothes was beginning to pile up again. james couldn't help but feel sympathetic for his sister, knowing how much comfort the niffler had brought her whilst he had been away at hogwarts and she had been stuck in a muggle hospital. an idea sprung to his head as jamie's black eyes stared longingly at the freedom of the newly cleared space in Isobel's room.

"does dad actually know which of the nifflers he is?" james tilted his head, approaching the creature to look for any distinguishable features.

y/n could only shake her head as her brother took jamie out of the cage to inspect him closer. his black fur was the same as the rest of his litter, his beady eyes holding just the same amount of mischief as his siblings.

"i don't see any reason for junior not to be replaced by one of the smaller nifflers in the garden whilst you're away." james set the creature back down on top of his cage.

y/n couldn't hold back her grin as she realised how genius her brother's idea was, already knowing which niffler would be the perfect replacement to trick their father. the twins shared a grin as they knew they were going to get away with the mischief.

————— how exactly y/n had managed to both over and under sleep her alarm for the morning had amazed her. she'd spent the rest of the evening before wrangling one of the nifflers from the garden, tommy, into the cage in her bedroom whilst her brother had hidden the real jamie in his owl's cage shrouded in his invisibility cloak. after the excitement had worn off from the acts of mischief, she had collapsed on her bed, forgetting to close her curtains before the sun had begun to rise that morning.

"y/n/n! are you nearly ready?" james knocked tentatively on his sister's door, scared of the chaos that must be going on inside the quiet room. "y/n/n! dad said if you're not downstairs in ten minutes, he's leaving without you!"

y/n shot up from her bed and raced to change into the outfit ribly had steamed and pressed for her the day before. her eyes caught the owl cage she'd been forced to buy sitting in the corner of her room and lugged the heavy metal out into the corridor, where ribly snapped into existence before leaving once more with the cage in tow.

"mum! where's my wand?" y/n rifled through her chest of drawers, remembering having left the wooden stick somewhere in there. "i can't find it anywhere!"

"miss y/n left this in the kitchens. miss y/n must hurry before she is late." ribly hurried into the room, holding out the light-coloured wand in her hands before picking up y/n's trunk and snapping back out of the room.

y/n sighed in relief as she pocketed the wand into her jacket pocket and picked up the final bag from her side table, picking up the worn journal that fell from the bag in her haste. the tattered leather journal held many memories of her childhood, some being the happiest times of her life, but most being the darkest secrets that not even her brother had ever heard. she sighed as she shoved the journal into the depths of her bag for her to deal with at a later date.

"y/n/n, dear. don't forget to close jamie's cage before we leave." euphemia popped her head around the corner, seeing her daughter already closing the door with a note attached to it to remind her parents and ribly when and what to feed the niffler whilst she was gone.

"yes, mum. i was just making sure he had enough food and water until you and dad were back." y/n grinned mischievously at the niffler, tommy, in the cage.

"well, do hurry up. your father is already in the car with the engine running." euphemia rolled her eyes at her husband's antics.

"yes, mum." y/n skipped out of her room, trailing after her mother as they walked down the stairs and out onto the gravel drive. "dad! did ribly bring you my trunk and owl?"

"yes, now get in the car." he nodded his head to where james was already knocked out asleep in the backseat of the car, his owl cage slotted between their seats. "muggle rush hour will make us late at this rate."

"why don't we just fly then? we'll surely be on time if we're not stuck in queues the whole way there." y/n shrugged, her bag dropping to a heap at her feet.

"you know how your mother gets about us being seen." fleamont rolled his eyes, sharing a tired smile with his daughter.

"she'd be even more unamused if we're late though, dad." james groggily said, having been woken by the conversation.

"that is true, dear. i say as long as we don't go the route you took us last time, we can fly and get something to eat from the muggle bakery at the station when we arrive. how about it kids?" euphemia grinned, setting her purse on her lap as they pulled out of the driveway.

"only if i can get the chocolate muffins they had last time." y/n grinned, her stomach already grumbling at the thought of the gooey inside of the freshly baked muffin she was going to receive at the end journey.

"fine. but don't come writing to me and complain about the sugar crash you'll have on the train." euphemia huffed, settling down in her dear.

"no, she'll just come and whine to me about it instead," james grumbled, before immediately snoring as he closed his eyes once more.

"i loath you." y/n hissed at her brother jokingly, huffing as she caught the smirk that graced his face in his sleep.

y/n too slowly drifted off to sleep to the sounds of her parents conversing over their neighbour, mrs finchley's, dog who had been digging up their plants in the garden for the past few weeks. as she came to once again, she found that they were just flying into the country lanes that they often used as a way to transition from flying to driving once more. streams of green slowly turned to grey and red as they entered the main roads that the muggles used.

"how much longer, dad?" y/n yawned.

"with the rate of these stupid muggles, another half an hour, sweets." fleamont sighed, clearly already bored of waiting in this queue.

y/n only hummed as she looked out of the window, seeing a family similar to their own, squashed into the small black car. two young girls were squashed into the backseat, whilst the mother of the family, being asleep like y/n's own brother, had claimed the front seat by their father. the children were bickering over something that seemed to be irritating the owls in the middle of them as they fluttered, irritated in their cages.

y/n couldn't help but giggle, having been reminded of the times their mother was caught in the middle of an argument between their father and james, a very similar grumpy expression on her face as she tried to enjoy the tea that ribly had made fresh for them all. it was only as she saw the car was actually floating slightly, that y/n realised that they were a wizard family (if the owl cages and father's robes hadn't already given away the fact).

"dad! they're floating!" y/n gasped, pointing their father in the direction of the car that had come to a complete stop beside them.

"oh, anderson. what are you thinking?" fleamont sighed, rolling down his window before shouting across the space between the cars. "oi! geoffrey! you might wanna fully turn off the flying engine. muggles are sure to notice a floating car on the motorway!"

"oh, fleamont! cheers, mate!" mr anderson clearly was unphased by the faulty engine of his car, used to it falling short often. "this stupid crap bucket is definitely on its last legs, ay?"

"mum, who is that?" y/n whispered, having never heard her father never heard of a man named geoffrey or anderson.

"mr anderson, he used to work with your father as an auror in the ministry before your father moved departments," euphemia whispered with a smile.

y/n glanced back over to the small black car, only to find it gone. she pouted as she realised she probably wouldn't ever be able to get to know the two girls from the vehicle. they were probably in differing years to her, or at least different houses. the car began to move forward, driving them off the main road and towards the centre of london.

before she knew it, they were pulling up in front of the station, james already leaping out of the car as he spotted a lone sirius standing waiting for him by the main entrance to king's cross. the boy had been long left by his parents, who had walked his younger brother, regulus, all the way to the platform to see him off that morning. y/n rolled her eyes at the sight of the two animatedly talking about their summer, already starting to walk through the entrance of the station without waiting for the rest of the potters to follow.

"james!" fleamont shouted, popping the boot of the car. "your bags?"

james smiled sheepishly at his father, shuffling back over quickly to where fleamont was glaring at him.

"sorry, dad," James smirked at the floor, wrestled his trunk out of the boot and sprinted over to where the luggage trolleys were to grab two. "here, y/n/n. put your trunk and winnie's cage on here."

y/n grabbed both of her trunks and winnie's cage and placed them on top of each other on the trolley. she sighed as she looked up at the clock above the station entrance, pouting as she realised they wouldn't have enough time to stop off at the muggle bakery like her mother had promised. the quartet walked back over to where Sirius had been awkwardly waiting for james to return to his side.

"hello, potters," sirius smirked his signature smile, hasting his pace as they walked through the station towards platforms 9 and 10.

"hello, dear. have your parents already gone through with regulus?" euphemia struggled to keep up with her husband's hastened step in her kitten heels.

"yes, we got here extra early so that regulus could be treated to whatever he wanted from the muggle bakery." sirius rolled his eyes at his parent's clear favouritism.

y/n grumbled under her breath about not having gotten the same opportunity as sirius' younger brother before she giggled to herself at his matching grumpy face.

"ah! mini potter. you ready to finally become a hogwarts student." sirius winked down at her, having grown since she last saw him during the summer break.

"y-yeah." y/n turned shy, an irregularity to her usually bubbly demeanour. "i'm just worried about the sorting ceremony."

"don't worry, me and your brother will be cheering you on when you get sorted. hopefully into gryffindor." sirius winked once more, before running to catch up with the male potters as they had already reached the barrier to the station.

"c'mon, hurry up!" fleamont waved his arm, pushing james and sirius through the barrier one after the other. "train leaves in ten!"

"coming, dad!" y/n grinned, running straight past her father and pushing her trolley straight through the barrier.

she stopped in awe as the ruby-red train finally came into view in front of her. she hadn't gotten a good view of the train when she'd picked james up, having only seen the carriages in her brief visit before. a sense of pride filled her as she saw the hogwarts crest on the side of the train, a grin filling her face.

"y/n, why don't you hand your father your bags? he can get them sorted onto the train for you." euphemia said, already pushing fleamont to carry the heavy trunks over to the train workers who easily lifted them up onto the train.

james and sirius joined the pair, followed by their father who was wringing out his hands from carrying the bags a short distance.

"oh, my dears." euphemia already had tears in her eyes, though her sentiment was cut short as the train conductor announced the train would be leaving in five minutes. "well, you lot better be off then."

"see you at christmas, potters," sirius said to the purebloods before stepping back to allow the family to bid their farewells.

at the sight of her daughter ready to leave the coup and join james, euphemia sobbed and pulled them both in for a bone-crushing hug.

"mum!" the two groaned.

"we going to hogwarts, not going off to war." james rolled his eyes as he freed himself from his mother.

"i can't help it." euphemia wipes her tears away. "my babies are growing up and there's nothing i can do about it."

"well see you at christmas, mum. it's not too long." y/n smiled up at her mother.

"i know, y/n." euphemia patted her head softly. "now, remember what i told you last night. no pranking anyone. not even each other. that's especially to you y/n."

sirius and james stifled a chuckle with a cough as they knew that they were both not going to be following their mother's orders.

"that goes for you too, sirius. i want no letters from dumbledore explaining how you managed to blow up yet another toilet." euphemia sternly spoke, smiling as she knew that both of her kids weren't going to listen to her. "oh, why am i even saying this? you're all going to be in detention nearly every day anyway."

"you know us so well, mum." james smiled cheekily along with his sister.

"just have fun, okay?" euphemia asked, pulling them in for another hug.

"okay." y/n nodded, turning back to father. "see you at christmas, dad."

the pair waved off their parents as their trunks and cages were taken off of them by the train crew. y/n smiled widely as she was finally able to step foot on the very same train she had watched her brother leave on this time last year.

"sirius and i are going to find remus and peter in a compartment. are you alright to find somewhere to sit?" james asked his sister, helping her up into the train carriage.

"yeah." y/n nodded, though she was shyly looking down the hallway for someone who looked to be a first-year as well.

"i'll see you in the great hall later on, okay y/n/n?" james asked one last time.

"ok, now go before sirius or someone comes to find you again." y/n giggled, shoving her brother in the direction that the raven-haired boy had wandered off in.

as she found herself in the train corridor, y/n watched older students greet their friends and enter compartments together. she longed for a friend in her year to stick by in times like these. she walked in the opposite direction than where her brother had gone, finding that most compartments were already filled with students, many years her senior. she passed by one more compartment before she stumbled upon five girls who looked her age.

"hi. umm. there are no other compartments left. can i sit here with you?" y/n shuffled her feet nervously.

"sure." The ginger girl smiled, patting the seat beside her. "i'm grace-aoife young. but just call me grace, most people can't pronounce my full name."

"i'm y/n, potter." she shyly shook her hand.

"i'm josie thomas." josephine grinned broadly, her dimples showing as she moved along the seat to allow room for the brunette girl. "i think i know your brother. he's in the same year as my brother."

"scott?" y/n asked with a tilted head, recognizing the last name.

"yeah! this is so great that we're both in each other's years." josephine laughed, turning her head to the other side of the compartment.

"it's you! from the station last year!" the first twin, said in wonder, nudging her sister to look up from her journal, an identical look of shock on her face as well.

"hi." Isobel waved shyly, remembering the awkward interaction between their parents that had ended their conversation abruptly last time.

"i'm heather." said the first blonde twin who sat closest to the compartment door with a journal-type book in front of her.

"i'm holly." the other blonde twin said, reading the book that her sister had set down between them.

"i told you she wasn't lying." heather pushed her sibling, finally looking past her shoulder to spot the ginger-haired girl in the corner buried deep in her book.

"oi, michelle. you gonna talk or is that book more interesting than our company?" heather grinned, her sharp canines showing under her gums.

"oh, sorry." michelle smiled sheepishly, closing her book. "i'm trying to finish this book that my brother gave me before we get to Hogwarts."

"what book is it?" y/n asked, trying to get a sneak peek at the cover.

"magical theory by adalbert waffling," michelle replied, setting the book into her bag by her feet.

"i haven't even touched any of my books yet." grace rolled her eyes, grabbing some coins out of her coat pocket.

"at least you're not being forced to read them." michelle rolled her eyes, sinking back into her seat.

"you're definitely going to be in ravenclaw with that brain of yours." holly teased, also grabbing coins out of her pocket as the trolley rolled past.

"anything from the trolley dears?" the trolley lady asked the six girls.

the girls began to list off the sweet treats they were craving as they spotted the fully stocked cart before them. the lady passed all of the sweets over to the girls, who all smiled and ripped into the packaging before she had even wheeled away. it was silent in the compartment for a few seconds, before each of the girls began to share their sweets among themselves. and that was how the train journey remained all the way to hogwarts, with a new friendship blossoming between the first years.

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ginnympotter · 1 month ago

Note

Jily lives au, Harry is a certified mama’s boy and when Harry starts hanging out with the youngest Weasley he spends less and less time with Lily and she’s feeling a little jealous (this is a current situation with my mom and brother. my mom was upset because my brother opted out for our annual Christmas baking session to bake cookies with his girlfriend instead. FYI my dad and I found the whole situation hilarious 💀).

"You literally have a cookie cutter, Gin, it shouldn't be that hard," Harry teased, pushing down a tree-shaped outline tin onto her remaining dough on the counter.

Ginny feigned offense. "Well, excuse me for trying to be creative and make something free-hand!"

"Creativity is for cooking," Harry told her, putting the cookie on the pan with the rest of them and throwing them in the oven. "This is baking."

"Pshhh, it's all the same," said Ginny, giving up and propping herself up on the counter and sitting on its edge. She put space between her legs and gestured for Harry to fill the gap. With a smile, he obliged, putting his hands on either side of her stomach as she leaned in and kissed him. Her mouth tasted like chocolate frosting, and he could feel the flour on her face rubbing off onto his as he pulled her tighter to him, needing this distraction.

To Harry's disappointment, she only let the kiss linger for another moment or two before pulling away. She examined his face, then poked his forehead. "What's going on in there?"

"What d'you mean?"

"I can tell something's on your mind."

"Oh, you can, can you?"

"I'm something of a Potter expert," she smiled. "Tell me what's up, Harry."

He sighed. "Before I left my house, my Mum... she was kind of upset with me."

Ginny gasped. "Lily upset with YOU? What did you do?!"

"What?! I didn't do anything! I just... I just came over here to bake with you that's all."

"That can't be all," Ginny pressed.

"Well..." Harry ran a hand through his hair, a habit he picked up from his father. "Today was our family baking day."

Ginny stared at him with disappointment. "Harry James Potter, WHY did you come here then?!"

"Cuz we already set our plans, and I didn't want to- this is OUR first Christmas a couple and I just wanted- you asked and I guess- ERGHHH I don't know!"

Harry walked away in frustration. Ginny sighed. "Harry, that's sweet and all, but- you could've just invited me over to your house instead, yeah?"

"I.... didn't think of that," Harry admitted, dumbfounded.

Ginny laughed, jumping off the counter and reaching Harry in the middle of the kitchen. "You also just could've told me you were busy and I wouldn't have been upset like... at all? Although I appreciate you wanting to make me happy."

Harry smiled back. "What do I do, then?"

"Go home," she told him, running a hand through his hair herself. "Apologize to your Mum. Make it up to her. Our families are literally having Christmas dinner together anyway. I'll see you then- okay?"

"You're kind of the best, did y'know?"

"I did know, in fact," Ginny smiled, leaning up and kissing his mouth. "Now go-"

Ginny pushed him towards the fireplace. He stole one more kiss before stepping in and flooing home.

***

Arriving back in the Godric's Hollow living room, Christmas music was playing softly from the kitchen. Wiping the soot off his clothes, he stepped into the hall. He could faintly hear his parents playfully bickering, his mother smearing his father's face with frosting.

"Oh no, how will you get all of this off of me? Guess you have no choice but to lick it off-"

"James, just go WASH up, you git-"

"No, no, no, Evans," James laughed pulling Lily close to him. "I need your tongue's skillful expertise-"

Harry coughed purposefully. "Son in the room."

His parents both turned to look at him, surprised at his appearance. Lily let go of James and returned to whatever mess was at the counter, pointedly looking away from Harry.

"Harry, I thought you'd still be with Ginny for a bit?" his father asked.

"Er, yeah, change of plans....Can I help at all?"

"Yeah, sure!" James said cheerfully, walking towards the living room. "Mum's just finishing up with some of the biscuits, we still got some pies to make."

Harry walked over to Lily, who was busying herself. "Mum?"

"Mhm?"

"I'm sorry I ditched the family baking day. I should've just asked Ginny to join us. It was stupid. I'm really sorry."

Lily sighed. "No, no, it wasn't stupid. You're so excited about Ginny, it makes sense you wanted to spend time with her- I shouldn't have reacted in the way I did. I just... I'm not used to doing traditions without you yet."

"And you don't have to-"

"No, no, I do. It's part of you growing up. You're going to make your own traditions one day with your own family-"

"Alright, slow down, Ginny and I aren't married yet-"

"Yet being the key word!" James called from the other room. "Sirius and I are placing bets on how soon you'll be engaged-"

"Shut up," said Harry and Lily simultaneously. They smiled at each other.

"Maybe you're right," said Harry. "One day I will have my own family traditions. But today... I still want to be a part of OUR family traditions. Is that alright?"

Lily smiled brightly at him. "Of course," she said, wrapping him into a hug, kissing the top of his head. "Now c'mon, let me finally teach you how to make this treacle pie on your own so you can impress Ginny with it next year."

#harry potter fanfic #hp fanfic #james potter #lily evans #harry potter #ginny weasley #hinny #jily #jily lives au

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hollowed-theory-hall · 1 year ago

Text

Secrets of the Darkest Art: How to Make a Horcrux

So I saw many theories regarding how to make a Horcrux, but none of them really made perfect sense to me, so I decided to give it a crack myself as part of my mission to understand Lord Voldemort/Tom Marvolo Riddle (Which I think I did, big post coming about that at some point, this is but another piece of that puzzle of a man)

So this is my reverse engineering of a ritual to create Horcruxes based on book evidence, my knowledge of real-world alchemy, real-world ancient Greek cults and rituals and linguistic analysis.

How to reverse engineering a dark magical ritual:

The first thing is to define what we know for certain:

The name: "Horcrux"

The creator is an Ancient Greek wizard named Harpo the Foul.

A death is required in the making.

A Horcrux holds a piece of the caster's soul that anchors them to life so they won't die.

I'll actually start with the third point.

How to split a soul?

Both Dumbledore and Slughorn mention murder being required to tear your soul to make a Horcrux, and that never really sat right with me. It magically doesn't make sense and even the canon examples we have for Horcrux murders make this statement iffy.

We have seven examples of murders used to create Horcruxs (thanks to one Tom Riddle being dramatic):

The Diary - Myrtle Warren - killed by a basilisk. Sure, Tom freed the Basilisk, but it hardly seemed targeted at Myrtle specifically and you can argue he didn't actually kill her (more a manslaughter by negligence). He didn't cast the spell, so how come this tore his soul? (I also think Myrtle was an accident and wasn't meant to be killed, but I digress)

The Ring - his father (Tom Riddle Sr) - Avada Kadevra.

The Cup - Hepzibah Smith - she was poisoned by her house elf. Sure, the elf was under the imperious, but it wasn't a first-degree murder, and like with the Basilisk I find it hard to consider this the same as casting a killing curse. Magically those are very different things.

The Locket - Muggle Tramp - Avada Kadevra

The Diadem - Albanian Peasant - Avada Kadevra

Harry Potter - himself - backfired Avada Kadevra

Nagini - Bertha Jorkins - Avada Kadevra

Now, I used the term "magically different" or "magically make sense" what do I mean by that?

Well, besides the fact I'm going to make a full post about how I see magical theory in the Harry Potter Wizarding World, I'll say it takes a lot after occult philosophies from Alchemy that are very old, Slughorn mentions as much in book 6 and there are a few other references to it. I'm just gonna cover the basics required for this theory.

In Alchemy, everything (people, animals, plants, and rocks) is built of three base components:

The Salt - the body - the physical form.

The Sulfur - the soul - the self that holds the divine flame.

The Mercury - the spirit - the life essence that binds the salt and sulfur together.

Now, in Alchemy, the main study is in purifying and combining these different aspects of material. Let's look at a herb, for an example:

If we want to retrieve its salt, we'll dry the herb completely using fire to leave behind a fine light grey ash that represents only the physical form.

If we wanted its mercury we'd distill all liquids from it until we get a purified, clear liquid which in the case of plants would be alcohol (it's why alcohol is referred to as "spirit").

And if we wanted its soul, we would take the remains from the distillation and drying process which would be a kind of oil.

(it can get more complicated with different materials, but this isn't a post about Alchemy)

Now, back to Horcruxs.

So, if we would want to split a soul, Alchemecly, how do we go about it?

Well, we don't. Not really. See a soul can't really be split, as every part of it, every bit of that oil from our random herb represents the entire soul. It's why something like a Horcrux could theoretically work in giving a full life to the diary the way we see in Chamber of Secrets.

Additionally, to work with any material in Alchemy, you are required to purify it first. It means that to get a piece of soul to bind to a diary, you need a pure soul.

Killing someone else won't sever your own soul from the spirit and the body, it's not how this works. Killing someone severs their spirit and therefore splits their body, spirit, and soul. Besides, an Ancient Greek man, like Herpo was, would hardly consider murder as vile as we do today. It wouldn't even cross his mind that any murder (even an indirect one) could harm one's own soul.

No, the only way to "split" a soul is to first sever it from life, disconnecting the bond between soul and body. Essentially, the only way to promise you immortality is to kill yourself.

I know it sounds a little confusing, but, essentially, once the soul is severed from the spirit and body you can split it. Think of the herbal oil, once you have the oil, separate from the rest of the plant parts, you can combine it with new ingredients. You can only work on a specific aspect once you severed it from the other two and as what binds all three together is spirit — life — the only way to do it for a human soul — is death.

But really, how?

Well, here comes the second thing we know about making Horcruxs — that dear Herpo was from Ancient Greece.

In Ancient Greece they had multiple different religious cults, some of which were Chthonic cults. These cults dedicated themselves to death or ditties and heroes associated with death and more importantly — rebirth.

Many of these cults were dedicated to figures like Orpheus, Dionysus, and Persephone, characters in mythology who are known for going through the underworld — through death — and coming back out. These cults were very secretive and not much is known about their practices, but some are.

What is known is that they had rituals where they reenacted a death and then rebirth (usually drinking wine — water of life, was the representation of rebirth).

This created a very clear idea in my head — to split a soul, you'll have to ritualistically, magically kill yourself, severe a piece of your soul, and then revive yourself with a water of life — a potion.

This potion is never mentioned, but I believe it exists due to these Chthonic cult rituals and how they were structured. Not only that, but the Greek underworld did have a river known for being incredibly painful to drink, literally made of fire, but being able to bring the dead back - The Phlegethon River.

Note: Lethe River Water (the river in the Greek Underworld that makes the drinker forget) is a canon ingredient in a Forgetfulness Potion.

So what is the dead body for?

Well, congratulations, you killed yourself to retrieve a sliver of your soul and revived yourself so you won't stay dead. You found an item you can keep secure to tie that sliver of soul, too. Now, how would you bind then? After all, the only thing meant to bind a human soul to a body is a human spirit - a human life... you get where I'm going with this.

This is why Tom didn't have to be the one to do the deed. As long as he had a recently deceased corpse to harvest the life from to use to bind his newly split soul and the item of his choice.

It explains why nothing was missing from the bodies. Myrtle and the Riddles were investigated by the Ministry of Magic. One would assume the Aurors would've noticed if any corpse was missing a hand due to the killer eating it (as other Horcrux theories suggest).

Not only was nothing missing from the body, the soul was intact. Myrtle became a ghost after death, a ghost is quite literally, just the soul, no body, no spirit.

So the only thing that was taken from Tom's victims was their life, quite literally at that.

Is that all? Can we make a Horcrux now?

Not really. See, when analyzing spells in Harry Potter, one thing super important to note is their name.

Avada Kadevra - is a reference to an Aramaic healing spell "Abracadabra" pronounced in Aramaic as: "Avra Kadebra" and meaning "I will create as commanded". Merged with the Latin word "cadaver" meaning "corpse" to create -> "I will create dead bodies as commanded"

Or Wingardium Laviosa - is a cross of the English word "wing", the Latin word "arduus" (meaning "high, tall, lofty, steep, proudly elevated"), or "arduum" (meaning "steep place, the steep" and the Latin word "levo" (meaning to "raise, lift up"). So together the spell means -> "lift high up".

So, it's pretty clear spells, their names, and incantations are very self-explanatory. So a Horcrux should be no different.

I've seen some attempts at translating the name Horcrux. Unfortunately, these attempts treated the name as Latin, modern Greek, or Old English. Herpo, was Ancient Greek, though, so I went and translated a few possible meanings from Ancient Greek (Classical Greek and Homeric Greek are what I looked at):

ὅρκος (orkus, pronounced "hor-kus") - an oath, the object by which one swears, bound by oath (still used in modern Greek).

κρόκες (crukes, pronounced "cru-kes") - saffron-colored (blood red in Greek), crocus flower. The crocus flower symbolizes both death (the saffron that is the spice) and rebirth (the golden crocus which brings renewal and joy) because Demeter wears them when Persephone returns from the underworld in myth.

So what we have is a spell called "binding oath of death and rebirth" which all around sounds fitting.

There might also be a "made in blood" tucked at the end due to the association of κρόκες with the color of blood.

But why does it matter?

Well, now with this name, I expect the binding between the spirit from the victim, the split soul, and the item would be done in a sort of oath - an orkus.

The association with blood gives us another hint. Blood is the part of the human body most representative of life. Therefore, in Alchemy, your blood is your spirit. So it'll make sense that your own blood would be used in the binding process or more correctly in the process of turning another person's spirit into your own. Making the thread to bind the body (item) and the soul piece your own. As it also refers to just a red firey color, it can indicate the Phlagatton potion I hypothesize should be part of the ritual due to how Chthonic rituals usually went, as the Phlagaton river is made of fire.

So we have a general idea of how to make a Horcrux. You need an item of your choice to bind your soul to. You need a life (spirit) harvested from a human that you transformed into being your own using your blood. And you need a piece of your own soul, which you get by killing yourself and then reviving yourself. And you finish it off by binding it all together with an oath.

But how could you make one accidentally?

So, everyone knows Voldemort succeeded in somehow making a Horcrux accidentally, something a lot of theories I saw don't account for. Becouse whatever process you need to go to to make a Horcrux, Voldemort went through all of it the night he died the first time and marked Harry.

All the steps for my method of making a Horcrux were met that night.

The item in qustion is baby Harry, nothing interesting there.

The soul sliver was split the way it always is — through death. Voldemort died, killed by his own killing curse and that is what splits his soul.

The life or spirit that then binds his soul to Harry isn't Lily's spirit or James'; it's his own spirit that acts as a binder between Harry and Voldemort’s split soul. Because the spirit was already his, there was no need to transform it by blood so the additional ritual wasn't necessary.

Step-by-step guide to making Horcruxes:

I'm not going to actually give the full step-by-step least a budging dark lord is looking for this information. I do have notes about exact incantations and even the full recipe and instructions for the Phlagaton potion I'm going to mention. These instructions won't be here since they are more in the realm of speculation and headcanon. This is just the overview of the ritual based on canon information and the occult philosophy I mentioned above. (edit: the full step-by-step headcanon with my potion recipe and everything does appear in the reblogs)

Step 1 - Life and Blood

Get access to a recently deceased human and extract their Mercury (Spirit or Life Essence).

Submerge the retrieved life essence with your own blood on a new moon (life and vitality). (7 drops of blood will probably do)

Step 2 - Water of Fire

To complete the cycle of death and rebirth you’ll need the Phlegeton Water potion to return you to life at the end of the cycle.

As you brew the potion, it must be brewed in a dark room, preferably underground to remind as much of the underworld as possible.

While brewing the potion one must be in the mindset of the Phlegeton, must be willing to go through agony to achieve eternal life and imbue these thoughts in their potion. (In alchemy, when working, it is believed you imbue your work with your thoughts during the Alchemical process. As an Alchemical process affects both the material being worked and the Alchemist themselves)

Likley Ingrediants:

Saffron spice

Golden crocus flower juice

Pomegranate juice

Step 3 - The Ritual Preparation

Set up your space so none of the components may escape the ritual space and so the ritual will not be interfered with.

Make sure the spirit you retrieved is within reach.

Make sure the item you desire will hold the Horcrux will be within reach as well.

Coax the spirit into the item and prepare it to tie your soul to the next step.

Step 4 - Death and Rebirth

To create a thread of your soul to tie to the ritual, you must die figuratively. Go through death to return stronger from the underworld.

Once you feel like death has reached you and your soul is separated you should heal your soul and finish the cycle, bringing you out of death and back to life by drinking the Phlegeton potion.

After the pain subsides you will feel healthier than before, stronger than before, and you’ll have an additional thread of sulfur (soul) in your chest to be pulled out and placed into the Horcrux.

The split-off soul should, on its own, try to search for life and a body to be bound to. If it doesn't, coax it out yourself and bind it to the Horcrux with the spirit you made in step 1.

Step 5 - Oath of Life

The connection between the body (the item), soul, and spirit is still unstable, if most likely strong enough to hold.

Swear the oath of life to finalize the bond between you, the Horcrux, and the soul thread together to ward off death.

I'll end with this note I made regarding Horcruxes when I started working on this theory:

I don't know what all goes into the process of making a Horcrux but I don't believe a person who truly likes themselves and doesn't want to inflict pain on themselves could make a Horcrux. Tearing up your soul is an act of arrogance above nature, sure, thinking you deserve to change the laws of the world and be the exception is part of it, but it's also an act of self-hatred. You need to hate yourself enough to be willing to kill yourself, hurt yourself, and tear yourself up in the most unnatural ways — hence why so few can do so, let alone more than once.

And Tom Riddle does seem to have that exact mix of arrogance, spite, and low self-esteem that would allow it.

#hp theory #hp #harry potter #harry potter theory #harry potter thoughts #tom marvolo riddle #lord voldemort #horcrux #hollowedtheory #overthinking #voldemort #voldemort analysis #wizarding world #tom riddle #horcruxes #nagini #moaning myrtle #slytherin #hp magical theory

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iamnmbr3 · 7 months ago

Note

Ok I like #26 with Drarry, of course, but may I request for bonus points #26 with Harry and Lucius post-DH? 😈

26. What they would do if stuck in an elevator with [insert character of your choice from the same fandom]

Oh ho! I am chortling! I love this so much!

Drarry

This depends on when it happens but let's go with immediately post-war. By this point Draco has come to terms with the fact that he's in love with Harry Potter but will never have him. Potter will move on with his life and Draco will try to pick up the shattered pieces of his. They'll likely never see each other again. It's for the best he tries to tell himself. Nothing could have come of it anyway. He destroyed any chance at even friendship long ago. He tries to tell himself it doesn't hurt. And then Potter is right there in the lift in front of him. The closest they've been to each other since Potter inexplicably spoke at his trial and spared him prison.

They kind of both freeze for a moment and just stare at each other. Neither really knows what to say. Harry immediately notices how much better Draco looks than the last time he saw him - the sheen is back in his hair and he's lost some of the hollowness in his cheeks. He has a subdued, open, almost vulnerable look though that Harry's rarely seen on him. Draco had written to him after his trial - thanking him and expressing remorse that Harry is sure was entirely genuine for all that Ron & Hermione remain skeptical. Harry'd meant to write back but there had been so much going on, so much pain and loss that he still hasn't gotten around to it yet.

And now Draco's here. His old enemy and yet all he can think is how glad he is that he's alive and safe. They both speak at the same time. Draco is trying to stumble through thanking Harry (yet again) and apologizing while Harry is trying to say that he got Draco's letter and he's sorry he didn't write back. They both stop and try again. It's awkward but it somehow it also breaks some of the tension. And suddenly they're actually talking - each asking how the other is doing and actually giving honest answers in turn. Because even though they've never been friends they aren't strangers either. They know each other. And each knows that in his own way the other understands - they have both suffered at Voldemort's hands after all, and still are plagued by similar nightmares, and they both know better than to believe in the mythologized caricatures they have both become in the public eye. And there's some connection between them, an inexorable draw that seems stronger than ever now there is no war to keep them apart.

The lift eventually stops but their conversation doesn't.

Harry & Lucius

This is AWKWARD. Harry is The Boy Who Lived Twice, the Chosen One who defeated Voldemort in single combat and probably 20 other epithets that he hates and is mortified by. Lucius is The Man Who Desperately Doesn't Want To Go Back To Azkaban, somehow known as a traitor by both sides and universally loathed. AND to make matters worse the last time he and Harry were in close proximity was at the Manor when he tried to hand Harry over to Voldemort. Not to mention the time in the graveyard when he jeered while Harry was tortured. Or the time in the Department of Mysteries. Yeah. It's not good.

Lucius spends the whole ride with his thoughts caught in a loop. Part of him just wants to stay still and unobtrusive - a skill that was beaten and cursed into him during those awful months when the Dark Lord lived in his house. He's only just been released. Potter has more reasons than most to hate him. The last thing he wants to do is provoke him. But if he doesn't say anything maybe it will seem arrogant or insufficiently penitent or worse still, hostile. And he can't afford that. But what can he say that won't be obviously false and ingratiating?

Meanwhile Harry's first thought is that Lucius looks kind of pathetic and diminished and he feels a small spark of pity for him quite against his will. Then he notices that Lucius is looking at him funny and seems on the verge of speech and he starts wondering if the man has somehow figured out that while he's been in prison Harry has taken up with his son and oh Merlin he does not want to be the one to have this conversation. (Lucius sees Harry frowning at him and becomes convinced he's going to be thrown back in prison by the end of the day.)

Draco subsequently gets two separate frantic letters by owl post. "I was at the Ministry today for my first required meeting with my parole officer and Potter got in the lift; I think he suspects me of something..." the first one begins. Meanwhile the other starts off: "Draco - I ran into your dad today at the Ministry. I think he knows about us." Draco hasn't laughed this hard in years.

Send me a character and a number.

#asks #Harry Potter #drarry #Draco Malfoy #Lucius Malfoy #ask game #hpdm #dmhp #harco #drarry g #meta #my meta #drarry meta

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unconventional-lawnchair · 6 months ago

Text

We'll heal together: Chapter Seven

Not Strong Enough Boygenius

Sirius Black x Reader / Remus Lupin x Reader (Ambiguous-Past)

Masterlist

Summary: Remus confiscates the map and sees a name he never thought he'd ever see again/how Remus lost the reader

Cw: Use of {Y/N}, Mean Remus, Jealous/Jerk Sirius, Harry with hurt feelings, mentions of death, mentions of character death, cusses, mild sensual content (please reach out if I missed something}

Wc- 5963

If you were asked in school when was the first time you had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting the eldest Black brother, you probably would have told them your first year when you met with James to be sorted into your houses.

The Grand hall was magnificent, it looked as amazing as you had always guessed, with so many faces you had never seen before, and such a warm feeling that came with it. You looked around, eyes following the floating candles that cut down the middle aisle and tried to stop you before you could reach James.

You were bouncing on your heels, holding James’s arm, and swaying. Sirius didn't say anything to you, but he stared. Stared the whole time James introduced you to Peter and Remus, telling you the story of how they met, luggage mixed up after several of the suitcases on the platform had been knocked over.

You and Lily shared a look and amused snickers at that.

When James got to Sirius, you two shared a look but nothing else. There was a tension in the air, as you twisted your lips into a skilled and annoyed pout that James knew very well. Sirius just scoffed and looked away from you, stepping closer to James.

You gave a small huff, it felt like you were watching a dog lay claim on their favorite human. You grabbed James’ arm tighter and Sirius in turn wrapped his arm around his shoulder. You glared at Sirius while James stood there with a confused but content look.

“James Potter.” Professor McGonagall called to the front, and he wiggled himself out of your grasp, You and Sirius still remained tense. You looked up at James with a hopeful smile, and your jaw dropped as the hat announced ‘Gryffindor!’ and the kids adorn in red cheered.

You also cheered. Then when Lily was called, you gave her a thumbs up as she glanced at you. With your reassurance, she walked forward, nose upward and full of confidence. The hat hardly touched her head before it boomed out the same house. You lit up as Lily looked over to Snape. The boy slowly nodded, as she hurried off to the red table.

“Severus Snape!” She called forward and the boy climbed the steps. He sat down and his face twisted with determination, before the hat gave a scoff. “You can't just ask for a house, boy! There is more to it than that!”

Snape's face fell but his eyes remained closed.

“Slytherin!” The house called and you gave a worried look at how distressed that seemed to make him. You heard a pompous laugh beside you, turning to look at the gray eyes of Sirius Black.

“Don't be cruel.” You hissed at him and he simply stuck his tongue out at you. You gave a gasp and before you could retaliate, the assistant headmistress called you forward.

At the sound of your last name, a few students looked at you wide eyed. Ignoring the attention had become a useful skill you picked up on when you were younger. You walked up and sat on the stool. Closing your eyes tight, you listened. Praying for Gryffindor. The hat gave the best impression of rolling his eyes. “Hm.. A {L/N}, you have some legacy here. Brave, wise for such a young child. Loyal and ambitious.. Oh, very ambitious.” He muttered and you twisted your face. “You, small child, are an interesting one. Mind is nothing like your father’s years ago..”

You slowly peaked your eyes open, looking over at the red table and smiling as James and Lily met your gaze. By chance, you glanced over at the Slytherin table, eyes locking on Snape who seemed so awkward and out of place, People talking to him and he didn't respond, staring at Lily. You frowned and the hat seemed to notice something in you shift, before the rim curled and he bellowed. “Slytherin!”

Your face fell and your jaw unclenched in shock. Standing up you walked over to the Slytherin table, ignoring people as they tried to call out to you sitting by Snape. He snapped his head up as if he was about to snap at you, before he paused. You both held a look at each other before he huffed and laid his head on the desk. You were content with the silence.

You always told everyone that was the day you were cursed with the parasitic knowledge of Sirius Black. For the trained eye, however, like Lily Evan’s, you two clearly knew each other before that.

“So.” Lily mused as she laid in your bed, facing the canopy above her, and legs curled up. One thing you loved about being Prefects, was your dorms were not but a few yards away from each other. All it took was a silencing charm and James’s cloak to get you and the girls together.

Mary was on the floor facing your mirror, using the back end of your comb to line up her eyeliner while Marlene, her usual make up partner, was distracted.

Dorcus, your fellow Slytherin Prefect, was sitting on your bed by Lily, looking down at Marlene who was laying her head on her lap and biting her lip. Trying to flirt with the usually stoic girl. You raised your eyebrows in surprise when Dorcas actually smiled back. James is going to owe you so much money.

“So?” You asked, sitting on your desk and reordering your record collection Lily had slowly smuggled in for you over the years. As it was Lily’s gifts, it mostly consisted of ABBA and Queen, but all songs you adored.

“Well, I’ve been meaning to ask you, when did you meet Sirius?” Lily asked and your face twisted up in confusion. “What?”

“Don't ‘what’ me, there is clearly history there even before you met in the first year. There is so much hate in that boy's heart for you it's unrivaled. I sometimes wonder if James is the only thing keeping you away from meeting the other end of his wand.”

You gave a bitter laugh and rolled your eyes. “As a training Auror,” The girls collectively groaned and you giggled. “I could totally land him on his arse, thank you very much.”

“You're deflecting.” Mary sang from her seat on the floor and closed her makeup, turning to face you four. You bit your cheek as Marlene snickered. “And clearly there is something going on in that pretty head of yours.”

“I have to agree.” Dorcas called over and turned to face you, hands still on Marlene’s face. The glossy almost transparent lipstick stains all over Marlene’s face did NOT go unnoticed by you. You contemplated honesty, biting your cheek before you groaned.

“It's.. It's stupid, really. I know why he hates me, and it's not complete rubbish.” You sighed and set one of the records on to play with a wave of your wand. “He is just a child. Still thinks he's the only one suffering regardless of the situation. Narcissistic and cruel.”

The room was quiet for a moment before Lily gestured you over to your satin green sheets. You sat down and turned to look at her, as she squashed your cheeks together and Mary, feeling left out, hurried over to practically shove you across the bed. You guys fell down, head to head, looking up at the ceiling, and with another glance at Lily you caved. “Well, I may have met him one other time.”

“Where?” Mary prodded as she shifted to her stomach.

“At our engagement party?” You winced out as you cautiously looked at the girls who were all giving you serious looks of appalled shock.

“You're what!?” Lily finally shouted.

~~~

You couldn't have been more than five, maybe six, when you were told by your father that you were engaged. You were sitting in your room, having just finished your cleaning and making sure there were no blemishes to be seen. Your father and mother came in for their nightly overlook.

You stood in the center of the room, head held up, back straight, and your nose turned so you looked like a presentable young lady. Your hands clasped behind your back as your father walked around you and ran his finger along one of the tops of your bookshelf.

“We are going to the Blacks tomorrow, do you understand?” Your mother’s piercing bird-like voice filled the quiet dark room. “The house elf will dress you, but after your next birthday we expect you to be able to do it yourself. Understand?”

“Yes mother.” You mumbled. You hated the Blacks’, Mrs. Black was always so.. cruel. You couldn't imagine her home would be much better.

“What is the occasion, mother?” You asked in a faint voice.

Your father went to stand by her and began to lead her out. “Your engagement to Sirius Black, her oldest son.”

You had to fight to keep your expression even. Oh.

“You will be on your best behavior, understand?”

“Yes sir.”

As promised, mid afternoon next day, you were dressed in a complicated black dress, with frills and feathers to match the Black’s matriarch. You stood at the door, hands in front of you as you presented your full self, as your father always said. You had to fight back the tears as the door opened and it revealed a rather cruel looking house elf.

“{L/N}s, we welcome you to the noble house of Black.” He drew in a slimy way. You pouted and followed him in, your parents following close behind. Your father took off his coat as Kreacher took off your mothers, then yours.

The first thing you noticed when you entered the house was the smell. It was awful. It was a burning rotten stench, like when your father would come back from his meetings with the dark lord. You would speak more on it if you knew more than the hushed whispers between him and your mother. Everything around you was so dreary, so depressing. All black and dark colors, it made you feel smaller,

You were so wrapped up in your thoughts, you didn't notice as the Black family made themselves visible at the entrance of a rather large ballroom.

“Mr. and Mrs. {L/N}, how lovely to see you.” Mrs. Black called out to the three of you dripping in fake honey. Looking at your parents, your mother nudges you with her plastic smile, moving you both forward. “Mrs. Black, lovely to see you again.”

Their little interaction fell on deaf ears as you looked at the boys across from you. The taller one, who you assumed to be Sirius, was standing in front of a shorter boy, Regulus. The younger black was clinging to his brothers tailcoat and half behind him

Sirius was glaring at you, as much as a seven year old could glare. The look made you slowly lower your gaze down to your feet. What have you done? Only two minutes in and your future husband already seemed to hate your guts.

You winced as your father gave you a firm pat to the back of your head when he noticed your head down. You quickly raised it and looked towards the boys. Slowly, you offered your hand. “{Y-Y/N} {L/N}. It's a pleasure to meet you. You waited for Sirius to offer his hand in return, but it never happened,

Your father sent Walaburga a look, and she twisted her lip and smacked Sirius rather hard, and the boy hissed out in pain, rubbing the spot before he took and shook your hand.

That night was spent mostly clinging to your mothers leg as Sirius avoided you. Getting congratulations and proud looks from people you didn't know, and frankly, didn't want to know. Even Beatrix, Narcissa, and Andromeda Black came to congratulate you. Though, the eldest, Andromeda seemed more sympathetic than actually happy for you. The other two didn't have a truly readable look, but Narcissa kept her eye on you for the rest of the party.

When it was time to go, you were at the door waiting for a proper farewell from Sirius, but even at his mothers insistence, he refused to meet your eyes. You didn't really want this to work, you didn't want to marry someone as mean as Sirius. All you could think was that you wanted to see James and hide away at the Potters. They were the only truly comforting family you knew.

“He just kind of.. Hated me ever since. As a kid, I think I can see it. He has associated me with his family since that night. I don't know much about them, but I could make a few guesses.” You rattled on and sniffed, you didn't even notice you began to cry until Lily ran her thumbs across your cheeks. You puffed up your bottom lip and Lily gave a faint laugh at that.

“Why didn't you tell me?” She whispered and you shrugged, moving to sit up. “I don't plan to marry him, you know that. I just have to push it, avoid it until my seventeenth birthday and I have left Hogwarts.” You declared, self assured.

“I will have access to my vault then, and when I move it to my own account I can go back to the Ministry as an Auror, my own person.” You sat up straight as your eyes landed on one of the many books you had read about your hero, Alastor Moody. You scrambled to your feet, past the girls and their sympathetic looks. “I learned not to hold onto it. Sirius will thank me eventually.”

You pulled out a book and flipped a few pages, down to the ‘dedicated to’ page that had Moody’s signature. The only gift your father ever gave you that wasn't about his preset image of your future. The one thing he ever gifted you that showed you he knew who you were. Even if he seemed to hate it.

Dorcas and Marlene shared a look before Mary laid down flat against the bed with a huff. “I never figured Sirius for that kind of person.” She mumbled into a pillow.

“Really?” You, Lily, Marlene and Dorcas asked in shock, making you guys sputter out a laugh. Easily diffusing the tension of the room.

~~~

It had been a few days now, of you sneaking away from the Weasleys to go and watch Harry simply… live. It was the best feeling, watching him exist in the walls you once called home. It was nostalgic, gave you a bit of pride to watch him make choices you knew James never would, and acted with so much of his mothers patience and bleeding heart.

His friends, Merlin his friends, that Hermione girl behaved so much like Lily you caught yourself doing doubletakes whenever she would say something that sounded a bit too much like the red head. Ron, he was like a balancing act, shy like Peter, but his personality reminded you of his uncles. Particularly like Fabian.

You were quite fond of them, following them around almost everywhere you could. Eventually you cut the visits to every other day, you needed rest at some point. So, here you were, following after Harry with his two friends, listening to their complaints about a rat of some kind. The simple reminder of the animal had you huffing.

Apparently, you were a bit too loud. Harry, who was behind his friends, turned his head to look into the forest. He spotted you again, and you simply stared. This time, he smiled at you, and you gave a happy shrill. Your entire body wiggling, from your nose to the tip of your tail. He gave a laugh, and mumbled. “Hello again.”

“What was that?” Ron shouted from down the trail, and Harry only looked away for a moment, but when he looked back, you were gone. He frowned a bit before he hurried down the trail to catch up with his friends.

You followed them all the way down to the river, your ears rotating around as you watched them meet with Hagrid. You tilted your head, curious about the impromptu meeting. You remembered Hagrid vaguely, he was a charming man, but you didn’t have much time to spend with teachers casually. Like… well, a normal student. Hagrid was probably the only exception to this in your eyes. You admired the guy, but he was basically an overgrown child. Didn’t make him any less appealing.

You slipped past a few sticks and twigs to keep your volume to a minimum. That was, until you heard a few snaps behind you. You quickly turned to hide under a bush. You had run into too many wolves and other creatures who were looking to make a meal of you to take any chance.

Your thoughts were derailed when you saw it, however. A muggle dog, larger than average, black and matted, he looked like a stray riddled with mange. You lowered yourself closer to the earth, but then, something clicked. No… truly? That silky fur you knew from his constant pampering, his full coat and frame had been whittled away to nothing, but you knew him. You knew that mutt anywhere.

You took the chance. You ran from cover and bit down on his tail. He gave a yelp and whipped around with a snarl. You held his eyes, it felt like he was moments away from pouncing. You took a shaky breath before you turned sharply and dashed off deeper into the forest. It wasn't long before you heard his heavy footsteps behind you. You ran for a while, until you were positive no one else could see you. You jumped down into a miniature cliff that was once a rushing river that had run dry. The second you jumped down, you transformed back. You raised your wand to the dog before you.

Sirius, those eyes, they were his. He stared at you, and you returned the blank sentiment. He slowly shifted back and you saw him in all his tortured beauty.

He didn't look much better than he did as a dog. Hair patchy, you assumed from neglect, He did always have a hair pulling problem when you were younger, you couldn't imagine what that did for him in Azkaban. “{Y/N}...”

Your name sounded broken coming from his lips like that. He walked closer and you stepped back, He didn't relent, walking you straight against the dirt walls that encased you. He only stopped when your wand hit his chest. He looked from your wand, looking up your arm, and to your face. He gave an almost crazed smile. “Scared of me, pretty girl?”

His voice was haunting. It put a weight down your throat, even in this state he had an effect on you that you could never understand. Your hand began to shake, and he took your wrist, lowering it and stepping forward. His dirty hands took your head so gently. You both stared into eachothers eyes and he gave a crazed and desperate laugh. His grip on your cheeks growing harsher. The dirt that was on his palms and under his fingers stained your skin, “Sirius-”

“Again.”

“What?”

“My name, say it again.”

You stared at him. His voice was so strangled, likely from under use. He wet his lips and you took a shuttered breath.

“Sirius.”

He let out a sound that you were sure only a dog could make. Grinding his teeth, he dug his nails into your cheek and jaw as he forced you to look completely up. Into his eyes. “Where have you been, vixen?”

You raised your hand to grab his wrist in warning, but the crazed man seemed to have come to terms with it. “I have.. Quite the tale for you, Sirius.” You breathed, and he slowly nodded, Hands lowering to your sides and you bit your bottom lip. Looking away from him. Giving him the chance to lean into your ear to speak. “Better make it quick, Vix.”

You almost forgot how to breathe. Struggling to hang onto your anger. This man had gone after Peter alone, told no one, not even thinking about how he was abandoning your godson in the process. Your mind was suddenly fogging once more when his thumbs pushed hard against your waist and his nose found its way to your neck.

You pushed him back just a few inches, turning to face him again, “Let me start from the beginning.”

~~ Harry’s POV~~

He saw the name, he knows he did. Peter Pettigrew. He knew something was off, walking down the hall alone. The steps were getting closer, but the name tag had disappeared. He ran his thumb over the sheet as he stood still in the hall. There was a tense moment, where he was sure Peter was getting closer. He flinched at his own reflection.

He was going mad, looking at this old parchment. Surely, it was mistaken. He had gone on a wild goose chase this whole time. Oh great, now Snape is coming? “Mischief Managed, Nox”

As if he was just waiting for him to hide, a blinding light took over his peripherals.

“Potter.” Snape drawls, his lips curled up in a permanent scowl. “And what are you doing, wandering the corridors at night?”

“Uhm,” Harry stated and began to look around for any excuse he could muster. “Uh, sleep walking?”

He cursed himself as it came out as more of a question than a statement.

Snape scoffed. “You are so extraordinarily like your father, strutting around the castle.”

“My father didn't strut.” Harry snapped back and Snape narrowed his eyes at him. “And nor do I. Now, if you would be so kind as to lower your wand from my face.”

Snape lowered his wand and rolled his wrist. “Turn out your pockets.”

Harry sighed and pulled out the parchments and his wand. “Open it, now.”

He thumbed over the paper and unfolded the map. Snape lowered his wand to utter an incantation, before gesturing to the words. “Read it.”

“...” Harry sighed and lifted the page to his face. “Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Vulpes, Padfoot and Prongs offer their compliments to Professor Snape and..”

“Go on.” Snape insisted and Harry glanced up at him before sighing and looking back down.

“And request that he keeps his abnormally large nose out of other people's business.” Harry remarked as he snapped his eyes up to Snapes, looking him dead in his dark pupils.

“Why you insolent little-”

“Professor?” Lupin called down the hall, turning the nearest corner and narrowing in on the two.

Snape turned sharply and slowly smirked at the fellow professor. “Ah, Lupin. Taking a stroll out in the moonlight are we?”

Lupin resisted the urge to scoff, and looked around him. “Harry? Are you alright?” He called over in a gentle tone. Harry nodded but Snape snapped his hand forward and snatched the parchment from him before he could stop him.

“That remains to be seen. I have just now confiscated a rather curious artifact.” Snape remarked as he looked it over. Lupin felt his heart fall to his feet. He hadn't seen that map since Finch confiscated it, Lupin quickly recovered,as Snape handed it over.

“I believe this is your area of expertise.”

Lupin looked it over with a firm sigh, threw his nose, rolling his tongue to try and stifle a laugh at the words. “Looks to be a parchment designed to insult whoever reads it. Likely a Zonkos product. Severus, but.” He lifted the paper higher as Snape tried to grab it back. “I will look it over. As you said, it is my area of expertise. Now!”

Lupin turned on his heels and gestured to his side. “Harry, a word of you'd please?”

Harry nodded and quickly passed Snape, head down as if in shame.

Once they made it to the classroom, Harry followed Lupin to his desk. The professor was clearly upset, so Harry stayed quiet. He spoke calmly, but his tone was anything but, like he was holding himself back from rage he didn't recognize.

“Now I haven't the faintest idea how this map came to be in your possession, I would say I am shocked you didn't hand it in, if I didn't see James doing the same thing. I am, however, incredibly disappointed in this behavior. Did you stop to think of it? For a moment?” Lupin raised his voice steadily before he took a pause and a deep breath, turning to face Harry fully. “That if Sirius Black got his hands on this map, that this would lead straight to you?”

Harry’s eyebrows raised. It wasn't that he was unused to people's rage being directed at him, or their disappointment for that matter. But something about it being Remus looking at him like that, it broke a bit of his heart. He was just so used to Lupin’s warmth. “... No.” He admitted.

“No. Of course not.” Lupin hissed. “I understand the thrill of it all, I was a student in these halls once too, but it is time to stop looking at this like a game. You are in danger Harry. Danger that your father and your mother lost their lives trying to keep you from. Danger that the people dearest to me were killed and maimed to protect you from! And wondering about the castle with a killer on the loose seems to be a pretty poor way to repay them.”

The professor waved the paper around like it had done some horrible offense. He tossed it on his desk with a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I don't mean-” Harry tried to explain and Remus didn't want to hear it, raising his hand to tell him to be quiet.

“Didn't mean what? To sneak out? Endanger yourself and in turn, this school?”

“I didn't think it was-” He began in bewilderment and Lupin simply raised his voice.

“Do you know how many people were affected by this war? How many people were on the front lines to ensure your safety?”

“No..”

“Fabian Prewett, do you know that name?” Lupin walked up to a letter that rested on his desk. He flicked it open. Harry frowned, hard.

“No-”

“Molly Weasley’s older brother, dead. Do you know Gideon Prewett?”

“No, I-”

“Fabian's twin brother, he was splinched and lost his left arm, moved to America. Marlene McKinnon?” He prodded. Harry looked down at his shoes. “Dead, death eaters killed her entire family. Dorcus Meadows? Voldemort killed her himself after she snapped and went rogue, looking to avenge Marlene. Mary McDonnell?”

“No-”

“She was killed in her safe house days after your parents death. {Y/N} {L/N}?” His voice cracked at the name.

“Yes, that name I-”

“You don't have a clue about that woman! About your Godmother, because she was killed. Killed trying to protect you and saving lives. All of these people put themselves on the line. Not just for your parents, but for you. For the concept of what we believed was our family. Peter Pettigrew faced Sirius Black for you! And to you that means nothing but for a boy like Peter that meant the world.”

There was a thick and tense silence.”Do you know what that means? Family means we look after eachother. In order to do that, you have to look after yourself first.” He tutted as Harry sniffed and looked away. He hated to be this intense about it, but Harry needed to wake up at some point.

“I will not cover up for you again, Harry. Do you understand me?”

“Yes sir.” He whispered low and Remus huffed. “Go to your dormitory.”

Harry had never run quicker from Remus, before he paused and cleared his throat. “Professor?”

Lupin gave a deep sigh and slowly turned to look up at Harry. “Yes?”

“I think it may be broken. It's uhm.. It’s been showing me Peter Pettigrew.” He spoke carefully and Remus narrowed his eyes. Harry gave an awkward nod, muttering a good night before running off.

Remus was left alone with his thoughts, eyes wandering up to the window behind his desk. He thinned his lips as he let his mind wander next. Those names, Maybe it was the date that led him to be so hard, even close to the full moons he had learned to manage his temper for the most part. The date was getting closer and closer to when he made one of the stupidest mistakes he has made in his life.

~~~

The spring formal, in lue of the triwizard tournament in the winter. He remembered when Lily suggested it to the other prefects then to the professors. They hadn’t held the tournament in years, and the kids were close to their last years at Hogwarts.

He thought it was a cute idea at first, having been one of the many students Lily had referenced to get the whole thing reviewed by the professors. Then, he started getting those bloody questions. It started when you were all sitting together in the library, the boys, you, Lily, and Mary.

You were talking Mary threw the process of making liquid luck, when a hufflepuff boy walked up to the table. He cleared his throat and looked at you in a way that made Remus want to pull you closer. His lip twitched and the boy didn't even seem to see him there. You two always sat together, no matter where it was.

You sat up straighter and your knee pulled from his, he almost whined at the loss of your warmth. Merlin, he was a mess.

“{Y/N} {L/N}?” He called over to you and you looked up at him with your beautiful eyes. He saw the boy take a nervous breath and you sat there so patiently, eyes fluttering. “I was wondering, if you had a date yet? To the Formal, I mean.”

Your mouth shaped an ‘o’ and you gave him the sweetest look you could, avoiding pity or sympathy. “Sorry hun, you're very cute, but I am actually waiting on someone.” You remarked, Remus glanced at you to see you were already looking at him with this cheeky look. Didn't know if his blood was rushing to his face or leaving it, but he suddenly felt dizzy. You gave a giggle at his look before you turned back to Mary and got back to helping her. The curly haired girl was staring at you with a slack jaw. “Did you really just say that?” She whispered to you before Lily spoke up next. “Did you really just do that?”

He turned to face the boys and they were staring at him with wide and cheeky looks, all but Sirius who seemed annoyed by the whole thing.

“Well, he knows what I want.” You remarked and he just about fainted on the spot.

You damned Vixen.

That's how he got here, sitting in his dorm room with the boys, as they interrogated him.

“You're not going to ask her? The girl you've been mooning over for years says she wants you infront of everyone and you're not going to ask her?” James sounded like Remus had personally offended him.

“First of all, I resent that. Second, it's only been a year.” Remus muttered the last part, remembering the day he fell for you fondly. Waking up to your warmth after one of the worst nights of his life. You had found out about his condition months ago, he had been avoiding you. You always had a playful and flirty friendship. But when he woke up to you in the chair beside him, sound asleep. He thought he could see that for the rest of his life, and he fell even harder when you let out the most embarrassingly loud snore.

“You flirt with her all the time! What’s so unappealing about doing that for an entire night?” Peter, ever bold when it came to you challenged and Remus sighed.

“When the full moon is close, she can't possibly think I'm serious, and! it's hard to think the same of her when she flirts with Lily and Marlene all the same.”

“She does what now-” James sat up straight like a rocket and that made Sirius cackle.

“It's easier when it's not serious. But, a spring formal? That's like.. asking her to be my girlfriend!” Remus declared in offense and Sirius scoffed, looking over his book as Remus struggled.

“Do you not want that?” James asked and Sirius chuckled. “Must have realized how vile she truly is.”

“Watch it Sirius.” Remus huffed before he looked back at James and Peter. “Of bloody course I want that. I just can't have it.”

James gave him a confused look before he groaned. “This shit again-”

“I will ruin her life! She'll be an Auror the second we cross that lake after graduation! Then what will people think? It won't be cute anymore. A werewolf husband can't keep a job, and I can never have kids. That's the one thing she wants the most. A family.” He mumbled and James sighed. Sirius winced and sunk into his bed a bit more as Remus spoke about his betrothed without knowing it.

He was going to tell them, but you had never made it known if you wanted him to share it or not. Not that you willingly interacted with him after how he treated him. Then you started this fling with Reamus. He figured at first it was to make him jealous, and it worked. Though, the way you looked at him was chilling. He quickly realized he had gone too far, but there wasn't much he could do now. So he stayed quiet.

“Do you think maybe you would be enough for her?” Peter offered and James nodded along.

“I think knowing she settled for me would be worse.”

Remus Lupin, despite his best efforts to prove otherwise, was not stupid. He saw the way you looked at him, the tone you took with him and no one else. You were wild. fun, but responsible and respectful. You were the coolest witch he ever met, and when he first said that out loud Lily gushed like a schoolgirl. Well, as a school girl. He knew that the remark in the Library was true,

He wanted to know what loving you meant. The feel of your hand in his. He wanted to know what it was like being your number one, you already had a way of making people seem special, but to be special to you was something he wanted all to himself. He wanted you all to himself.

He couldn't have that, he couldn't do that to you. To anyone. So, he made a choice that would haunt him for the rest of his life. He would let you go, and let you down easily. Before it got too real.

Remus shoved away the memory as he sighed, pulling open the map and looking it over. “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.” He whispered to it, looking it over with a frown. He curled back the pages, looking over the forest and the names around. It was oddly stimulating, watching the prefects doing their rounds and the occasional professor here and there.

His eyes wandered all over the map, looking to see if Harry was being truthful about it having Peter’s name. He didn't see it, but his nearly dropped the map when he saw his name. Sirius Black.

And he wasn't alone.

210 notes · View notes

averagewriter-inthedark · 10 months ago

Text

Me & The Devil P.2 🌘| Harry Potter Imagine

takes place during HBP & DH1

Part 1 here Final Part | HP Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Black!Sister reader x HP characters (platonic), Severus Snape x reader (platonic/semi-romantic)

Content Warnings: death, violence, profanity, angst, slight cannon divergence, mentions of torture and blood, set during the book timeline of the 1990s | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 6k

Requested yes/no

Premise: A dark storm is brewing over Hogwarts. The return of Voldemort and his Death Eaters spark unease in the Golden Trio. For a certain member of the Noble House of Black, she takes on a new role of double agent with the partnership between her and a certain Hogwarts professor. Will she survive the ordeal and get her freedom when it's all over? The odds are slim when acting as a loyal servant and hunted by aurors.

Note: Snape is 37 in this like the books and reader is 31. Part 3 will be the final chapter to this miniseries but I have no idea when it will be posted. Hope y’all like this one! Also near the end the final scenes are inspired by Wanda in MOM so yeah that belongs to Marvel

——————-

Months went by. Waiting. Scheming. Y/n felt her mind deteriorate by the day. Between Bellatrix’s constant complaints of Draco’s failures and Narcissa’s moping, Y/n spent most of her time in the attic of Malfoy Manor. Hidden away to perfect her spells and create new ones. She even managed to successfully become an animagus.

A black crow.

How fitting.

At times Y/n found herself sitting in front of the window. Especially when it rained. The lightning in the distance, the crisp air filling the attic walls. Lost in her thoughts, Y/n would caress the silver jewelry laid on her left ring finger.

Once a month she’d receive a letter from Severus, unbeknownst to the others, detailing Draco’s attempts and all the times Snape’s had to cover for him. As part of their deal to keep quiet of the others' disloyalty and motives behind actions, Snape agreed to update her on Draco and keep the Order off Y/n’s trail. For Y/n’s side of the bargain, she agreed to deflect suspicion on him from their fellow Death Eaters. Specifically her sisters.

And what better way to do that then in holy matrimony.

“You want to get married?” she scoffed, placing her wine glass on the coaster. Having left with her sisters following the unbreakable vow, Y/n returned later that night after Severus sent an owl. Sitting in the same leather chair from before, “You humor me.”

“I can assure you I am everything but comical, Y/n,” he drawled, standing by the fireplace. The sound of wood crackling filled the room. “This is not an arrangement I suggest lightly.”

Seeing how serious he was, Y/n’s demeanor changed. “Wow,” her tone lowered, finger raising to tap her lips. Unable to read her mind since she was a gifted Occulmens like himself, Snape was left to wonder what Y/n was thinking. Truth be told the woman was more impressed than shocked by his proposal. “I think that’s the first time I’ve been rendered speechless, Severus.” Standing, Y/n grabbed her glass and approached the man. “You truly believe this would work? Proposing a marriage between us….” she trailed, glancing at the fire briefly, “is intriguing. Tell me more.”

Snape’s expression remained the same, “It is simply a matter of convenience.” No need to sugar coat it, “We want to keep our secrets hidden. So long as you can assure your sisters stay off my back…..I’ll make sure the Order stays off yours. We play the part of a happy married couple when operating business with the Dark Lord, and I will do everything in my power to get your freedom when this all ends.”

Y/n liked what she was hearing. The more she thought about it, the more engrossed she became. Marrying Snape wasn’t ideal--as the concept itself she did not care for--but Y/n could not deny the idea made her curious. Plus Severus was handsome, a talented wizard, and obviously, he knew her motives for following Voldemort. What her end goal was. She needed to keep him close.

“I think I’ll find playing the part of a smitten wife will be rather easy,” she rasped, stepping closer to Snape so their chests were nearly touching. Walking her fingertips up the length of his arm, Y/n leaned closer to Snape which ignited a sharp breath from the man. She smelled of expensive perfume. Their closeness allowed him to see how her eyes turned from their usual coldness to something more lustful. Almost sinister. His reaction made her smirk, “Confident you can manage the same….husband?”

Now, almost a year later, the two managed to successfully keep their union hidden from the Order. All while any suspicion the Death Eaters had of Snape seemed to disappear. Bellatrix, initially furious and doubtful of their ‘relationship’, soon began to trust him. Still, the witch grimaced each time the pair greeted the other with an affectionate kiss. Or when Y/n took claim to Snape’s lap during meetings. An action which surprised the man himself in the beginning.

Each letter Severus sent was met with one in return, however Y/n was careful to only send her owl in the late hours of the night. When her family was sound asleep. Signing the parchment with only her initials, but instead of B as the ending initial it was S. She’d never admit it aloud, but Y/n felt a sense of comfort with Severus. There was an overwhelming amount of hate in her heart, but the pinch of sanity left in her soul connected to him. Which is not a surprise. He is, of course, the only person who can relate to her.

Neither would call it love. Y/n possessed no love. And Snape lost his when Lily died. They had mutual respect and care for each other as their partnership grew. Finding the other’s presence calm despite the world around them going to shit.

The news of Draco’s success in connecting the two cabinets came from Bellatrix’s glee, the woman bursting into the attic with a loud, “It’s time, sister.” Reluctantly, Y/n trailed Bellatrix to Knockturn Alley, where they met several of their associates.

Dark clouds painted the sky. Thunder rumbling. It set the tone of the evening.

Y/n stayed stoic the entire journey. Hating every minute, yet doing nothing to escape. Where could she even go? The mark on her arm prevented her from doing so. Until Voldemort was defeated, the only way for her to stay alive was to continue the act of a loyal servant.

Draco was gone when the group breached the cabinet in a cloud of black smoke. The boy rushed to find Dumbledore and complete his task. He found the man on the observation deck of the Astronomy Tower. Unaware his longtime rival, Harry Potter, was below him, watching the scene play out.

The others arrived to witness Draco complete the task, however, in the end Snape was the one to administer the curse. And so the greatest wizard in history fell from the sky.

Y/n kept her eyes on Severus the entire time. Watching his reaction. When he went through with the unthinkable, Y/n wasted no time in rushing to his side. Cupping his face, she noticed the dissociative expression Snape wore. Mind processing what he had done. “Severus,” he didn’t respond, making her shake his shoulders, “look at me.” Finally he meets her eye and the woman matches his anxious demeanor. “We have to go. Now.”

Clutching his robe, the two push Draco in the direction of the Death Eaters. Bellatrix’s maniacal laughter rings as she shoots a spell into the sky to bring forth the Dark Lord’s symbol in the clouds. Not long after the tower was surrounded by members of the Order, ensuing a battle between the groups. Y/n tried to avoid dueling as much as possible. Not wanting to harm anyone, especially the kids in the school.

Cutting the corner after dodging a spell from her niece Nymphadora, Y/n spotted the wretched Fenrir Greyback attacking a man she didn’t recognize. Judging by the wild red hair he possessed, she assumed it was a Weasley. Greyback’s back was toward her, unaware she stood behind him. From the looks of it, the redhead was losing the fight.

Not sure what came over her at that moment, Y/n raised her wand and shouted, “Stupefy!” The werewolf was flung into the wall behind him, falling unconscious.

“Bill!” a voice screamed, Y/n turning to see a young woman running to where the Weasley laid. Bloodied and knocked out. Fluer dropped beside him, sobbing at the state of her fiance. She glanced up to see Y/n, immediately becoming frozen with fear while pleading with her to help. “Y-you--H-he’s been--.”

Cursing to herself, Y/n approached the two. “He wasn’t bit,” adjusting her dress skirt, she grabbed the cuffs of Bill’s jacket and gestured for Fluer to help. Together they moved him to a concealed area away from the battle. “He’s been scratched.” Having studied werewolves while in school, the woman was well educated on the subject. Muttering a healing spell, Y/n attempted to at least stop the bleeding, however, she knew the extent of his injuries were serious. “Nevertheless, the wounds are cursed. They’ll scar.”

Fluer watched her carefully, “W-why are you helping us?” Y/n gave no answer, instead casting a final healing spell before standing up to leave. In her peripheral vision, she noticed movement from Greyback, and sent a second stun his way to keep him unconscious. She always hated him, so it gave her great pleasure to pu thim down.

Truth be told Y/n didn’t know why she helped the injured Weasley. It would have best suited her to get the hell out of there and let whatever outcome happen. Whether that be Greyback killing the man or Bill successfully overpowering the werewolf. But instead, she cursed her associate. Saving the life of ‘the enemy’.

Several agonizing minutes passed before Y/n managed to escape the tower. At Snape’s order, she ran deep into the forest until she was far enough to apparate. Back at the manor she was immediately questioned by her sister.

“Is Draco okay,” Narcissa grabbed Y/n’s wrist to stop her from escaping to the attic. Eyes glossy with tears, “Did he--.”

“Your son is fine, Narcissa,” she roughly pulled away. “You have my husband to thank for that--he finished the job.” There was immediate relief from Narcissa, exhaling the breath she had been holding. Y/n went straight to the liquor cabinent, taking a glass and pouring a generous amount before downing it. She then refilled the glass, offering it to her sister without a word. Once Narcissa took it Y/n kept the bottle for herself, saying nothing more as she made her way to the attic.

It wasn’t long before the others arrived. Y/n heard Narcissa’s cry of relief upon seeing Draco. Bellatrix was busy scolding Greyback--something that brought a smile to her face. Other murmurs were made out, but hard to identify with all the noise. Moments later she heard the fast approaching sound of footsteps nearing her door. Jolting from her bed with her wand raised at whoever was about to breach it. Only when it was revealed to be Severus did Y/n lower her guard, rolling her eyes, “What have I told you about--.”

Snape slammed the door shut, muttering a silencing charm which caused Y/n to raise her brow. “We need to talk.” Her guarded expression returned, but Snape beat her before she could question him. “I know you stunned the werewolf to save Weasley.” All movement from the woment seized, frozen in shock.

“How do you know--.”

“I saw you with Miss. Delacour, Y/n,” Snape peers down at her with visible frustration. “Why would you risk such a thing? If you had been caught--.”

“But I wasn’t, Severus,” she interrupts, eyes flicking to the door in fear someone was listening, but then she remembered the spell he cast. “I was careful. You should know better than to underestimate me. And to answer your question….” she turned away from him, hands on her hips as she turned her focus to the woods beyond her window. “I don’t know what possessed me to do what I did--It just happened. Maybe it’s the fact the Weasley’s are distant family. Or because I fucking hate Greyback.” She throws her hands up in defeat, “Or I want the Order to have all its members to better their chances at winning this damn war. Maybe…” her hands fall back to her sides, “deep down there’s some humanity left in me.” The words were so low it was barely a whisper. Y/n shook her head, the speck of softness replaced with disinterest.

“Whatever it was,” turning back to him, Y/n narrows her eyes in warning. “It’s no longer our concern. Dumbledore is dead, you killed him.” footsteps echo against the wood as she approaches Snape, noticing his expression change at the mention of the headmaster. “He will be plotting his next move. We need to remain focused--I expect his attention will be on us more now given the circumstances.”

Snape knows she’s right. Killing Albus only shined a spotlight on him, and in turn on Y/n. He was now labeled public enemy #1 in the eyes of the Order. Voldemort himself will likely turn to Snape. They will have to up their game, continuing the act of a happy couple. Well happy as one can be in the middle of a war.

That summer was endless torture following the Headmaster’s death. Y/n not only had to deal with Voldemort growing stronger, but also the return of Lucius from Azkaban. It did bring the witch great joy to see the dark circles beneath his eyes and matted hair. One year in prison did a number on him.

Lucky for Lucius it was only one year. Had it been 15 like Y/n, he’d surely gone mad. Thankfully the two rarely saw each other. Not long after his release following Dumbledore’s death Y/n moved into Severus' home. Only returning to the mansion when necessary.

At every Death Eater meeting Y/n had to fight yawning with how bored she was, keeping her expression blank even when addressed by Voldermort from time to time. The man wasn’t blind. Well aware the youngest Black was not as forthcoming with her praises to him like Bellatrix. Never voicing her opinions, while also keeping any objections to herself like a smart person would do. He never fully trusted her. Even though she was married to one of his most trusted advisors, something in the back of his mind told Voldemort she’d be the first to turn on him. Without proof, Voldemort kept a close eye.

The meeting tonight was just like any other. Seated at the massive dining table in Malfoy Manor, Voldemort at the head while the Black’s and Malfoy’s flanked to the right. Y/n seated beside Draco, far from her sisters. Very telling of her attitude towards them.

Severus was the last to arrive, dark cloak tailing behind him. His entrance caught everyone’s attention, while his was on his colleague hanging in the air. Muggle studies professor Charity Burbage. The wounds on her body indicated she had been subjected to torture.

“Severus,” Voldemort greeted, “I was beginning to worry you had lost your way. Come. We’ve saved you a seat.” The headmaster took claim to the only free chair at the table, bidding a look to his wife, to which she slightly shook her head. Silently saying, “I had no part in this.”

Voldemort then said, “Do you bring news, I trust?”

“It will happen Saturday next, at nightfall.”

“I’ve heard differently, my Lord,” Yaxley interrupted at the other end of the table, then proceeds to say he believes Harry will be moved at the end of the month. The 30th of July. The day before his 17th birthday.

“This is a false trail,” Snape insists. “The auror office no longer plays any part in the protection of Harry Potter. “Those closest to him believe we have infiltrated the ministry.”

The Death Eater seated beside Y/n laughed, “Well, they got that right aren’t they.” Several at the table joined in the laughter. The youngest Black’s expression was tight, plastered with annoyance.

“What’s say you, Pius?” Voldemort addresses the man seated at the opposite head of the table.

Nagini curled herself next to the chair as he answered, “One hears many things, my Lord. Whether the truth is among them is not clear.” Voldemort chuckles.

“Spoken like a true politician. You will, I think, prove most useful, Pius.” The Death Eater appears pleased by the compliment. Voldemort turns back to Snape, “Where will he be taken, the boy?”

“To a safe house. Most likely the home of someone in the Order. I’m told it’s been given every manner of protection possible, once there it will be impractical to attack him.”

Suddenly the conversation is interrupted by Bellatrix. “My Lord, I’d like to volunteer myself for this task.” She leans against the table, voice dropping, “I want to kill the boy.”

“Of course you would,” Y/n thinks to herself, holding back the urge to roll her eyes. Frankly she found her sister to be stupid to ask such a thing. Considering Voldemort mentions his desire to kill Harry Potter everyday. And with the prophecy, there’s no way he’d allow anyone else the opportunity to do the deed.

In the back, Charity let out a haunting groan, causing Voldermort to shout, “Wormtail! Have I not spoken to you about keeping our guest’s quiet?”

“Yes, my Lord,” the man spoke with urgency. “Right away, my Lord.” As he scurried off, Voldemort returned his attention to Bellatrix.

“As inspiring as I find your bloodlust, Bellatrix,” the hope was clear in her eyes, disappearing with his next words. “I must be the one to kill Harry Potter.” With that she curled back into her seat, Y/n’s lips raising in a satisfied smirk.

“But,” he rises from his chair, “I face an unfortunate complication.” As much as Y/n wanted to tune out this conversation, the nature of it was hard to dismiss. Especiall when the man walked behind the chairs on her side of the table. Brushing past her sisters before ending beside Lucius. There was satisfaction seeing him visibly afraid of Voldemort. A smirk on her lips when he was to give up his wand, a wizard’s most prized possession.

Her expression shifted when Charity’s brought to the center of the table. Death Eaters laughing at her despair and cringing with disgust at her profession. Y/n moves her gaze to Severus, who’s emotionless to Charity’s pleas. Then when the woman’s killed and her body drops to the table, Y/n lifts her hand to grasp Draco’s wrist. Squeezing it in warning for him to control himself when she sees his distraught state in the corner of her eyes.

The action surprises the boy. Draco sucking in a breath and forcing himself to relax. Once he does, Y/n removes her touch and waits to be dismissed by Voldemort. As soon as the order is given she’s quick to leave the table, taking Snape’s outstretched hand where he apparates them back home.

“How do you plan--?” he doesn’t let her finish the question.

“I have it covered.” Moving to his study, he hears her footsteps behind him, Y/n slamming the door shut once they’ve entered. He looked annoyed, “This doesn’t concern you.”

“The hell it does!” she shouted, making him clench his jaw. Ever since the incident at the Astronomy tower the two had been on edge with each other. For one, the Order discovered their marriage causing Y/n to lose her shit. Now she was public enemy #2 in their eyes. Or 3 if you count Voldermort at the top. Her odds of the Order leaving her the fuck alone decreased immensly.

Second, Snape told her of his and Dumbledore’s arrangement. That the headmaster asked Snape to kill him. A secret Y/n had trouble wrapping her head around and prayed to a higher power no one, especially Bellatrix, found out about.

Crossing over to him where he stood at his desk, Y/n caught his wrist to make him look at her. “In case you have forgotten, dear husband, we are playing both sides right now. You say you want to protect Harry Potter…just how do you plan to do that during an ambush you helped orchestrate? What the hell are we supposed to do if Harry Potter dies at his hands Saturday next?” Y/n squeezed his wrist tighter, “I’m putting all my trust into Severus Snape. You promised me my freedom when this was all over.”

“I haven’t forgotten, Y/n,” he removes himself from her grip, “You say you trust me. Do so, and you won’t be let down.”

Y/n didn’t know where it all went wrong. One moment she was flying in the sky, the next she’s being rammed into by Bill Weasley’s Thestral. Pain erupted in her chest, likely from a broken rib and caught herself on the creature's satchel. Her hand is then grabbed by the imposter Harry seated behind Bill, keeping Y/n steady to prevent falling to her death. Using her talent of legitimins, Y/n identifies the imposter as Bill’s fiance Fluer.

“You’re not Harry Potter,” she whispers, causing Harry (Fluer) to widen her eyes. The accusation was confirmed when Fluer’s voice responded, “How did you know?” Before Y/n could answer, however, the world around her became black. Having been stunned by Bill who realized what was happening behind him.

Acting fast, Fluer reached with her other hand to further grasp Y/n’s now limp body onto the Thestral.

“What are you doing?” Bill shouted over the chaos, “She’s one of them!”

“And she saved your life in the Astronomy tower, William!” Fluer screamed back. Using all her might, she hauled Y/n over the bottom half of the creature. Gripping the material of her robes and dress while ducking at the incoming curses around them.

When they finally made it to the Burrow, the shaky landing caused Fluer to lose her hold. Y/n fell to the ground, still unconscious. Bruises were sure to form on her body. Bill leaped off the Thestral, helped Fluer off and rushed to Y/n. After confirming she was alive by pressing his fingers to her pulse, the oldest Weasley took the death eater into his arms and followed Fluer into the house. But not before telling Fluer to take her wand which had been discarded into a ditch.

“Wait here,” he said, placing Y/n in the care of Fluer by setting her on a bench outside the door, Bill entered to find the others gathered around an injured George. After the shock wore off of his brother’s state, Bill announced the death of Mad-eye and departure of Mundungus. Deepening the already intense mood.

“There’s something else,” he hesitated, eyes flickering to find everyone staring at him with unease. They watched Bill exit the house, only to return a second later dragging the last person they ever expected. Gasps rang out, wands drawn in Y/n’s direction. The witch barely conscious but fighting against Bill’s hold. Eventually succumbing to sleep once again due to the pounding in her head.

With the help of Remus, the two propped Y/n in a chair, casting a spell to bind her hands and legs. “Where’s her wand?” Remus urgently looked around, relieved to see the object in Fluer’s possession. He turned to Bill, “What the hell happened?”

As the oldest Weasley explained, Molly approached the woman, assessing her carefully. Y/n had dirt and grime in her hair. A small cut to her temple. Likely from a rock when she fell from the Threstral. Her breathing was shaky, pained groans escaping her mouth which Molly assumed was from trauma to her chest. Although the others were against it, Molly began performing healing spells on Y/n, “Had it not been for her my son would be dead! I do not care what side she is on--I shall offer the same courtesy.”

The group was alerted to Y/n’s consciousness twenty minutes later when she groaned. Shifting in the chair, her eyelids fluttered briefly before opening to bright lights. Moaning, Y/n straightened up aware of the audience in front of her, however she did not appear concerned. Even with several wands pointing at her. “Hmmmph,” she blinks a few times, settling her gaze on Remus, “what an unpleasant situation we have here. I hoped to be dead before experiencing this.”

It pained Remus to hear her words. Thinking back to that little girl he’d met on the corner of Diagon Alley with James, perched on Sirius’ hip. That little girl was gone. In her place was a woman with the Devil on her shoulder. “We don’t want to hurt you, Y/n.”

Tilting her head as though she found his statement funny, she replies “Is that supposed to make me feel at ease?” rolling her eyes she adds, “Surely you could’ve come up with something better.”

Remus sighed, realizing it was about to be a long night. “We’re willing to negotiate terms if you provide us with information. A lesser sentence if you will,” he chose his next words carefully, seeing her demenor shift, “so long as you are upfront and answer all of our questions with honesty.” Y/n’s face tightened, no longer humored. Remus felt his stomach lurch, not breaking the intense eye contact she set with him.

“You threaten me--.”

“It’s not a threat--,” he insists but Y/n continues.

“With a cell in Azkaban and expect me to comply? By being a snitch?” she shakes her head, eyes full of fury. “Go to hell, Remus Lupin.”

“It doesn’t have to be this way.”

“Oh?” She grumbles with a glare, “and how else do you suggest it be? I’m not stupid--a tad mad if we want to get technical, but you all have yourselves to blame for that.” Y/n was referring to the Order not taking her in during the First Wizarding War. Sirius warned them of his family and the Death Eaters recruiting her at a young age. Yet no attempt to protect Y/n was initiated.

The werewolf’s face fell, “Had we known--.”

“Known what?!” She jumped forward in her chair as the dam of pent up resentment and anger broke, making several flinch at the sudden movement. A few wands pointed up but she paid them no mind. “That I’d become a Death Eater against my will? That I’d be forced to use the Cruciatus Curse on the Longbottoms or face my sister’s wrath?” She spat with ferocity. Pupils nearly pitch black it made her appear demonic. “You knew what my family was like! Sirius knew--It’s why he left! And you did nothing to save me.” Leaning back in the chair, Y/n finished with, “Go ahead and kill me. I’m not telling you shit.”

Remus runs a hand through his hair, his patience running thin and stress levels rising. “Y/n, I’m trying to help you here. We’re giving you the opportunity to avoid a lifetime in jail if you help us--help us end this war.” When his efforts are exhausted Remus gestures to the man behind him, “Kingsley has Veritaserum and we will use it if necessary.” Now this has her smirking, chin raising in challenge.

“Go ahead,” her voice lowers an octave, sending chills along his arms, “I welcome you to.” Weary of her acceptance, the adult members of the Order all exchange looks before Kingsley approaches. Y/n tilts her head back, watching Kingsley unscrew the vial and pour the tiny amount of liquid onto her tongue. Once it’s entered her stream, the woman cracks her neck and returns her attention to Remus.

He clasped his hands in his lap, leaning in his chair. “How’d you know about tonight?”

Y/n pretends to think, “I think I saw an advertisement in the Daily Prophet. Yeah,” she nods her head, acting serious. “That was it.”

Remus’s own head falls to his chest, the others visibly confused. The potion was to make her tell the truth. Pretty much against her will. Thinking it may have not settled in yet, Remus asks another question. “Who told him we were moving Harry?”

Deciding to play along, Y/n shrugs her shoulders, “Yaxley.” Lie. She held back a chuckle at his confused reaction.

“How did he know?”

“Overheard it.” Lie.

“Where?”

“Diagon Alley I assume.” Lie.

“From who?”

“I don’t know.” Lie.

“But he’s the one who told Voldemort.” Y/n rolled her eyes at that, gesturing to her binded hands.

“Obviously since we’re sitting in this predicament.” She sees the frustration on Remus, as well as the others. Yet, the witch couldn’t help but feel entertained. “Anything else?”

“What’s your relationship to Severus Snape?”

“He’s my husband,” She didn’t miss the way the Order reacted to the news. Upset but not surprised. No point in lying. They already knew about their marriage from what Snape told her. The truth of why, however, was still a secret.

“Why did he kill Dumbledore?” Harry stepped forward, drawing her attention to him. Anger was written all over his face. Filled with absolute hatred. Something Y/n had expected when her husband murdered the man he looked up to.

“You were there, right?” she asked, head tilting with curiosity. “Snape mentioned you’d been below the observatory deck.” Tsking, Y/n surveyed him. She was getting under his skin. “Why do you think he did it?”

“I think he did it to save himself. He was a coward,” Harry saw the way her face tightened. Taking offense to his words. A mere speck of what someone could label as affection or respect to her spouse.

“Severus Snape is many things,” she sounded sinister, anger seeping off every word. “But a coward is not one of them.”

“Fat lot of good coming from you.” Harry antagonized her. “You hightailed it out of the ministry when Sirius died. He was your own cousin.”

“My cousin who left me a sitting duck for the wolves,” Y/n reminded the boy, temper rising. An indicator with how her voice was strained. “Let’s not forget you all thought he was responsible for betraying your parents. Didn’t even hesitate to believe he was guilty.” That cut them all deep. “And I adored Sirius at one point in life. Much like you, Harry Potter,” she let out a deep sigh, attempting to calm herself, “look at where it got me.” Exhaustion was beginning to take over the witch. Her body ached and there was a pounding in her head. Molly’s healing spells worked to patch any internal injuries Y/n had, but she still was drained from the whole ordeal.

They were getting off track. Having had enough of the tension, Remus butted in, “Answer the question, Y/n. Why did Snape kill Dumbledore?”

“I don’t know,” she simply stated. Lie. “He didn’t say. Although…I can only assume it was to spare my poor nephew.” Another shrug, “And survive the unbreakable vow. Which you already know of.”

Harry shook his head, “I don’t believe you.” His gut was telling him there was more to the story.

“Harry, she took the Veritaserum,” Hermoine pointed out gently, missing the flicker of amusement from Y/n. “She’s telling the truth.”

“Hermoine’s right, Harry,” Ron agreed, moving beside his friend. ��There’s no way she could be lying.”

“How much did you give her, Kingsley?” Arthur questioned, also suspicious of Y/n’s answers. Kingsley held up the vial. More than half was consumed.

“Enough.”

“Something’s off,” he murmured, rubbing his chin. A bickering match ensued between members of the Order. Harry, Arthur, and even Y/n’s niece, Tonks, had difficulty believing Y/n told the truth. The majority, however, voiced opposition.

“Veritaserum is a very potent and strong potion, Harry,” Remus stood from his chair, but before he could say anything else, Y/n’s voice took over.

“Which you just wasted.”

Silence consumes the room. Processing what she said. That’s not possible.

Heads turning to the witch, Y/n starts to chuckle in delight. A sight unnerving to the Order as it becomes more deranged. Harry looked to his friends for an answer, but they were just as perplexed as him. Y/n’s voice turns taunting, “Oh my, you lot really are daft at times. Have you forgotten? Or did you believe it to be a rumor?” Her grin is wicked, finding the scene entertaining much to their dismay. “I’m a skilled Occulmens.”

It was as though the dementors arrived with how cold the air became. Everyone falters, stilling at the revelation. It could only mean one thing:

Everything Y/n said potentially was a lie.

The Death Eater tsked, “What do you think I did with all that time I had rotting in the middle of the ocean?” she laughs again, more menacingly. “Your little potion is useless! My mind is more protected than Azkaban. For all you know I fabricated everything I just told you.” Her taunting laugh continues, shredding the last ounce of patience the Order had for her.

Remus kneeled in front of her chair and smacked the table, causing everyone besides Y/n to flinch. “Enough of these games! I have tried to give you the benefit of the doubt knowing you’d been forced into this life, but you have proven to be not so different from your associates.” Now that was a nail to the coffin. Any and all of Remus’s hope for Y/n having some level of good in her gone. “This is your final warning--or we will throw you in Azkaban for the rest of your life for good!”

Never straying her stare, the Death Eater murmered cooly, “You have no idea how reasonable I’ve been.” This time it was Remus’s turn to scoff.

“Holding children hostage at the Ministry, attacking Hogwarts, marrying Snape, and sending assassins after the officials who locked you up,” He lists off, surprising the Order with the last detail. They had heard rumors of Azkaban guards and Ministry officials killed in the last few months, but assumed it was Bellatrix. “I don’t see how that’s being reasonable.”

Y/n gave a sound that was a mix of a chuckle and scoff, leaning forward in her chair. “Sending those assassins after them instead of myself was mercy.” A chill rose, Harry’s intuition telling him something was about to happen. “And despite your hypocrises and insults I have warned you time and time again to simply get out of my way.” Remus saw her hands fidget, tightening his grip on his wand.

“You’ve exhausted my patience,” Her voice lowered once more, almost to a whisper as her bottom lip quivered. “But I do hope you understand…that even now--with what’s about to happen…..” lips curled into a deathly smirk. “This is me being…reasonable.”

Faster than the speed of light, Y/n casts a non-verble, wandless spell that mimics a gust a powerful wind, ripping the binds off her hands and ankles. Remus flies onto his back, the lights flicker and burst. The windows and glass shatter. Papers fly. Hermoine screams, echoing amongst the shouts as Ron pulls her into his arms. Molly leaning over an injured George to protect him from shards.

Fluer gasps at the feeling of Y/n’s wand in her hand ripped from her. The death eater had snapped her fingers in the chaos with a non-verbal Accio.

With her wand now in her possession, Y/n unleashes another bout of wind, crippling the Order from attacking her. Once satisfied she makes her escape. Black smoke fills the room before flying out the window and into the night sky. The storm inside the burrow seizing.

“What the bloody hell was that?” Ron coughs, catching his breath.

“That,” Kingsley stands up straight, sore from colliding with the wall which knocked him down. “Was the closest thing to experiencing the Devil on Earth.”

Tags: @unloved-and-outspoken

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andillneverbethesame · 11 months ago

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𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒏𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒔.

❥ harry potter x fem!reader

❥ summary; you didn't want to break his heart but you had to

❥ warnings; none really

❥ a/n; 99% based off champagne problems by taylor swift!!

"your ticket, please," said the ticket collector. it was loud enough for the young man to hear but he remained still, staring out of the window. "sir?"

harry's head snapped to the man's direction. "oh, yes, sorry." his hand quickly found it 's way into the pocket of his jacket. unconsiously, while grabbing the little paper, his fingers also wrapped around a tiny box and when he gave opened his hand to give the collector his ticket, it fell onto the floor.

harry stared at it for a moment and the man chuckled, realising what was inside.

"i can see why you're so lost in your thoughts," said the man. "i'm sure she'll say yes. good luck!"

"she said—" before harry could finish the sentence, the door of the compartment closed, "no."

he sighed and glanced back at the black box between his feet, wondering if it would matter if he simply left it there. maybe some man finds it and will be lucky, not like me, he thought. but he bent and picked it up anyway. it was his mother's ring after all.

——————————————————————

the way back to london was endless.

earlier that night, harry was joined by two young men and women who seemed that they couldn't shut their mouths no matter what. harry wanted to pack his things and find another compartment. he wanted to sleep and let himself dream that things went differently.

but now, that everyone but him was asleep, harry wanted nothing more but to be a part of a conversation that didn't involve relationships, marriage, kids or anyone named y/n. his thoughts didn't let him fall asleep no matter how much he tried.

——————————————————————

"want to go somewhere more quiet?" harry whispered in your ear, making you shiver and at the same time, setting your skin on fire under his warm touch on your upper arm.

you turned around and smiled. "now, harry, that would be so inappropriate from me," you pointed at the small tiara ginny put on your head earlier. "it's my birthday party."

your boyfriend put on a puppy face. "please?"

you rolled your eyes and chuckled. you put your hand in his open one. "how could i say no to that face?" you glanced back at your friends who were sitting at the same table as you. "excuse me, everyone."

ron, hermione and luna all sniggered and then winked at you. you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion but you blamed it at the alcohol.

harry lead you outside on the driveway in front of your parents's house. his other hand travelled to your lower back and you put yours on his shoulder.

"have i told you how beautiful you look tonight?" harry stared into your eyes. blood rushed into your cheeks and you only hoped the dim light from the lamp post wasn't bright enough for him to see how he makes you feel.

"about a million times," you responded. "but it won't hurt to hear it again."

"you really look enchanting. i don't know how i got this lucky." before you could respond, harry pulled you into a deep kiss, leaving you breathless.

"what's gotten into you, huh?" you asked after catching you breath. "not that i don't like it."

"it's a special day."

you shrugged. "only my birthday."

"maybe not only that."

you raised your eyebrow. "huh? what?"

instead of responding verbally, harry lowered himself and got on one knee.

you snorted. "babe, what are you doing? get up!" he didn't. he pulled a tiny black box out of the pocket of his suit and opened it.

a gasp left your mouth at the sight of a ring you recognised. you've seen it before. it was his mother's.

"harry. . ." in all the shock, it felt impossible to say anything else.

the boy couldn't hear the tone in your voice. the one that obviously said, "please, don't continue, i don't want to break your heart."

"y/n, i've said it before and here i am kneeling before you, saying it again; the years we've spent together were the best years of my life. and i want to feel this way until my last day. because only with you, i can die happy. so. . . y/n y/l/n, will you marry me?"

you stared at him, wide eyed with your mouth open. you definitely didn't see this coming when he lead you outside. however, you were sure of your answer.

"y/n?" the smile he had before was slowly fading away from his face with every passing second you took to answer.

you shook your head. "no, harry, not now."

the look in his eyes broke your heart. "what? what do you mean?"

you sighed, turned around and started walking away from him. he got up and you heard him running to you. he got a hold of your hand, making you turn around once again.

"you can't just reject me and leave like that without any explanation, y/n."

"i'm sorry, harry, i really am!" tears threatened to fall out of your eyes.

"i don't want to hear you're sorry," harry was crying by this point. "i want to hear why you don't want to marry me."

"we're too young, harry, i am not ready for this kind of commitment yet!" you explained.

"young?" harry repeated loudly. "we're twenty. my parents got engaged straight after finishing their n.e.w.t.s exams!"

"and that's great if that worked for them, but i am not your mum and you, as much as you look like him, are not your dad. we are not them, harry! i'm sorry if you don't want to hear that but that's the truth!"

"i can't believe this," harry retorted. "were you ever even planning on marrying me? was i even in the image when you imagined your future?"

"of course, you were," you tried to calm him down. you reached for his hand but he backed away before your fingers could even connect. "it's just too early."

"it's never early when it's the one," he claimed. "i'm gonna ask you a question and i want a brutally honest answer. am i the one for you?"

"yes! yes, you are!" you cried out. by this moment, your mascara was smudged and you were having trouble seeing clearly through the tears. "never in my life have i had any doubts about that. harry, i do want to spend the rest of my life with you. and we will get married, but just not now."

"well," harry put the ring back into his pocket. "i don't want to wait." and with that, he left you out there standing.

when he was out of sight, you, very slowly, made your way back into the house.

cheering was the first thing you heard when you walked into the living room. hermione splashed out on the bottle. but after everyone got a good look at the state you were in, everyone stopped celebrating.

"y/n? what happened? where's harry?" ron asked.

"he's gone. forever."

——————————————————————

"so, she just said. . . no?" lily, harry's mum, asked for what felt like millionth time.

"yes, mum," harry mumbled, his fork playing with the potatoes on his plate.

"but i just don't understand. why?"

"she said she wasn't ready."

james potter snorted. "what a stupid excuse."

lily still couldn't wrap her head around the fact that you won't be her daughter in law. "but she would've made such a lovely bride."

"yeah," sirius black agreed. "what a shame she 's fucked in the head."

"sirius," harry glared at him.

"what?" the man put his hands up in defense. "i'm just saying, if she had a common sense, she would've said yes in a heartbeat."

harry shrugged. "maybe, it's for the best. guess it wouldn't work when we both want something else."

——————————————————————

2 years & 7 months later.

this was the worst date of your life.

you weren't even listening to the man sitting in front of you. all he did was talk about himself. he didn't even ask you a question. he doesn't know a thing about you while you knew everything about him. even the name of his grandma.

"y/n, if you excuse me, i'll go use the toilet."

you faked a smile and nodded. "alright."

"be right back."

"oh, you don't have to be," you said under your breath while you watched him leave.

you looked around the restaurant, thinking and searching for something that could get you out of the situation. just then, you heard it. the voice you haven't heard in almost three years.

"y/n?"

he looked the same like the night you broke up, just a bit older. he wore the same glasses that made his eyes bigger. he was dressed in a black suit and he looked so charming as always.

what caught you off guard was the girl who was standing next to him. ginny looked so much more mature now. her red hair was in braid. she wore long dark green dress that almost matched her eyes. she looked magnificent.

they looked magnificent together.

"wow, harry, ginny," you were speechless. "hi."

you hadn't seen anyone from harry's friend group for a while. you and hermione occasionally called but that was it. interesting she didn't mention this.

"what are you doing here?" harry asked but before you could answer, your date came back.

"um, martin, meet old friends of mine — harry and ginny. harry, ginny, this is martin."

after they all shook the other's hands and exchanged all their "nice to meet you"'s, the couple excused themselves and went to sit down so they could order their dinner. suddenly, you didn't want to leave the restaurant so much anymore. something kept you there.

while martin went on to talk about his job, you pretended to listen while keeping an eye at the table harry and ginny sat at.

you couldn't help but wonder how the hell did this happen. questions came flooding into your brain. how? when? is it serious? are they engaged? how long after you shattered harry's heart did they start dating? do harry's parents like her more than they liked you? is he happier with her than he was with you?

about an hour later, you saw harry getting on one knee for the second time in his life.

you couldn't see ginny's face but you knew by the look in harry's eyes that this proposal is going a different way than when he proposed to you. you also couldn't help but to notice that it was the same tiny black box and the same ring.

but everything was different.

ginny nodded and pulled harry into a deep kiss.

you hoped that she'll patch up the tapestry you shred, that she stitches his heart right back up. and that he won't remember all your champagne problems.

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter fluff #harry potter angst #harry potter smut #fan fic writing

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thebiggerbear · 1 year ago

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"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that." - CJ Braxton Prompt Response

Summary: You had only meant to call once, remaining anonymous while feeling out the whole helpline thing for yourself. Now, you talk to CJ every Friday night around the same time. When you don't call one Friday, CJ is worried and comes looking for you which presents its own host of problems.

Pairing: CJ Braxton x Female!Reader; CJ Braxton x College Student!Female!Reader

A/N: Prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting (#941). I initially wasn't going to write anything for CJ but this idea popped into my head for this prompt and I just had to write it. And I absolutely fell in love with the dynamic between CJ and the reader (and had so much fun with this). Please forgive any timeline tomfoolery or anything time wise that makes you go "huh?"; I was trying to make this work throughout the season from CJ's entry into the show (and his conversation with Jen about the helpline) to the end.

I wasn't much of a Dawson's Creek person back in the day (I still haven't seen seasons 2-5), so I hope this came out alright. I tried to keep it as 2000-ish as possible. I remember back in the day not everyone had a cell phone like Dawson, Audrey, and Pacey (though a lot of people were getting them moving into the beginning of the decade) so that rule kind of applied here so to speak.

This is meant to take place during s6 before Jen joins The Stand.

Sequel here

Warnings: implied sex; panic attacks; implied anxiety

Word Count: 15k+

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel

CJ Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx

You can also read on AO3

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

Soldier Boy version ✨ Beau version ✨ Dean version ✨ Jenny version ✨ Jason version ✨ Tom version ✨ Rachel version ✨ Anael version ✨ Alec version ✨ SDV Leah version

You glanced at the clock, seeing it was 6:59. One more minute and you’d pick up the phone as you did every Friday night and make the call you always did. Your nerves thrummed in anticipation as you stared down the clock, willing the numbers to turn.

Eventually, you got your wish and as soon as the 7 appeared on the clock face you picked up the phone, dialing the number you now knew by heart. After a few rings, the call finally connected.

“Hello, Helpline. This is CJ.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the sound of his voice. “Hey.”

“There she is.” You could hear his own smile in his tone as he recognized you. “How are you, Jo?”

You winced at the fake name you had given him. At the time, you had quickly scrambled and chose the first name that came to mind. Granted, Joey Potter was in the same school as you so you weren’t too worried about him finding out about either of you seeing as he was from Boston Bay. But as you had talked with him more and more, you really wished you hadn’t given him any name but your own. Even if you were beyond terrified; you felt bad for lying to him.

Why should it matter, right? He was a volunteer counselor for a teen helpline at another college. Why would you care what this one person thought out of you?

Well, unbeknownst to him, you had seen him once and you knew who he was. Thanks to Joey and Audrey’s friendship with Jen, you had come to hear quite a bit about the cute tall guy whose voice made your heart rate speed up way too fast. Jen had even invited him out to a house party and that was when you saw him for the first time. Your nerves got to you and you bounced before one of your friends could make an introduction. Partly because you were afraid he would recognize you from your voice and immediately put a face to the name and possibly be disappointed or worse: he’d know you lied to him. So you avoided him at all costs — well, in person.

It wasn’t like you had planned for this to happen, where you would call a helpline weekly just to speak to a certain boy. That’s not how this started at all.

When you got to Worthington, you were homesick, overwhelmed, and overall terrified. While you eventually eased into the college student lifestyle and Boston was now home, you never really got past the overwhelmed feeling, and terrified had dialed down to being anxious all the time: anxious that you would mess up, anxious that you would fail, anxious that your future wouldn’t turn out the way you planned — all of it. There were days you felt like you were just scraping by, barely making a passing grade (though your final grade usually proved you wrong), and you felt like you were some sort of imposter who was soon to be found out and didn’t really belong. Meeting Joey and her roommate, Audrey Liddell, who lived down the hall from you, helped some, and their introducing you to their group of friends helped even more. But there were still times that you just felt…tightly wound and about to snap. As if you had too many balls in the air and you were about to trip, and all the balls would fall to the ground.

So when Jen mentioned to the group about some guy wanting her to join a teen helpline for the college, you quietly paid attention. She laughed it off — his approach, not the helpline — and she didn’t think she would be right for it so that was that. While everyone else began to talk and laugh about another topic, the wheels in your head slowly started to turn inside your head. A helpline where you could remain anonymous and talk to someone who would listen and could possibly even help. You knew your school most likely had one of those but you wouldn’t even dream of risking it. But a helpline elsewhere where you could talk to someone who maybe understood how you were feeling most of the time, maybe experienced similar things, and you were able to stay anonymous? That you could look into.

After much back and forth in your mind over it, you took the leap and made the call one Friday night after a particularly rough week. You really didn’t think anyone would pick up, it was close to 7:00 and most college kids were either out or getting ready to go out…right?

Before you could answer your own question to yourself, the line connected.

“Hello, Helpline. This is CJ.”

You did what any other person would do; you promptly hung up. You stared at your phone in terror. Someone had picked up. A guy. Just when you were convincing yourself that this was stupid and you needed to take a chill pill and deal.

You argued with yourself in your head for about another minute, hemming and hawing over it all. Wasn’t the whole point of you calling to try to do something about how you’d been feeling? You supposed you could always see a therapist here in town but that could be costly, even with insurance. You also had no desire to tell your parents because they would respond the same way they did the last time you tried to allude to how overwhelmed you were when you had returned home for the summer.

“You should be grateful you got into such a great school, Y/N. Most people would kill to be in your position, going after their degree. You don’t see your classmates moping about, do you? Just because they have classes and homework,” your mother had made sure to prick you with that pin of guilt. “Make the best of it.”

“You know what I think? I think you need to get yourself some friends and then you’ll stop focusing on this so much. If you have nothing to fill your time, of course your mind is going to obsess over what you’re viewing as negative. Try to join a club or a social group. They have keggers all the time. I remember back when I was in college. It was party city every weekend. Maybe let loose a little one of these Saturday nights and things will start to get better. And who knows? Maybe you’ll even make some friends.”

“Thanks, Dad,” you mumbled, tossing your overeasy egg onto its side with your fork, your eyes trained on your plate. You knew he was just trying to help — they both were — but their attitude seemed to imply that you could simply hit an off switch somewhere and you’d stop feeling so overwhelmed. If only.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried to take their advice. You had gone to some frat party and it had been one of the worst experiences of your life. You weren’t a big drinker and you weren’t really a party person in general. You didn’t really recognize anyone from your classes or your dorm and the music was so loud, it seemed like a ridiculous notion to try to approach someone and start a conversation. Not something you were very good at anyway. You had no idea how to play the drinking games you saw, other than what you’d seen on TV, and you didn’t want to do something to mess up anyone’s scores if you didn’t do it right. Then some hulk of a guy accidentally knocked into you, deluging you in beer, and he was so drunk, he didn’t even apologize, just kept on going. After about an hour (and the unintended beer bath), you decided to call it quits.

That night, you had gone back to your dorm room which was blissfully empty, taken a hot shower, and then sobbed into your pillow. So much so that when a drunken Audrey accidentally stumbled into your room, she saw your tear-stained face when your head snapped up and immediately asked what was wrong and why you were crying in her room of all things. Despite the back and forth over whose room it actually was and her drunken state along with the slurring of her words, you two actually kind of hit it off. Before long she had you laughing, something you felt like you hadn’t done in some time. She passed out in your roommate’s bed, much to your roommate’s chagrin, but when Audrey’s boyfriend and roommate came to get her the next morning, you figured that had been it. Your one social interaction with someone who didn’t look at you as an unwanted intruder every single day (like your roommate) or like you were some loner weirdo (like most of your classmates). You knew that Audrey would probably either ignore you the next time she ran into you or she wouldn’t remember you at all.

Boy, had you been wrong. The day after her hangover, she had been knocking on your door, smiling and telling you that you were going out with her for the night. Just like that. She introduced you to her roommate, Joey, and their group of friends. You had been inducted into their group of friends, just like that.

Eventually, Jen mentioned the helpline that one night and now here you were, staring at the phone as if it was about to come to life and do a dance or something. You waited a few more minutes, deciding you’d try again and hopefully get someone else. There couldn’t be only one person answering phones at a helpline, could there? That would make for some backed up phone traffic and not a good look for a helpline at all. Maybe you’d be lucky and the guy would have already had another caller he was speaking to so another counselor would have to pick up.

When the clock turned to 7:11, you slowly picked up the phone, took a deep breath, and dialed the number again. You began to jiggle your leg as you waited for the line to connect.

“Hello, Helpline. This is CJ.”

Oh crap. You froze.

“Hello?”

What did you do? You wanted to hang the phone up again but you were unable to.

“Hello?” He asked again.

No. You were going to be a mature adult about this and answer him. Just as soon as you could breathe. You covered the mouthpiece with your hand and exhaled a breath.

“Look, if you’re in trouble or can’t talk, just hit a button. Any button will work.” A minute passed while you were trying to breathe, getting ready to talk. “If you don’t have a crisis and you’re not calling to speak to someone here, then I think you should hang up and let other people who need us call in. No use in tying up the phone lines.”

Another minute passed. You really were trying your hardest to get words out but your chest was tight and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Your heart was racing yet you were frozen. This happened sometimes but usually you were by yourself, not with someone waiting for you to speak on the other end of the phone line. It also happened a couple of times while you were out with your friends, but usually you hid out in a bathroom stall until it passed and then you left to go back to your dorm with the excuse of a test the next day or a project due, whatever you could come up with on the fly. You didn’t understand why it was happening to you right now, though.

“Alright, I’m going to hang up now.”

You smashed a key on your phone so fast that you heard a loud annoying sound in your ear. Immediately, the guy’s tone changed.

“Okay, I’m here. If you’re in trouble, hit the key again. If you’re not but can’t talk at the moment, don’t hit it.”

You didn’t hit any more keys and gasped for air that just wasn’t coming.

“Good. I’m glad you’re okay. Is someone in the room with you and that’s why you can’t talk? If so, hit the key again.”

You moved over to your bed and laid down. That was the fastest way to get your body to relax when you had the option you’d found out.

“Okay, so you’re alone but you can’t talk but you’re not in trouble. Can you just try to say one word or make a sound so I know you’re really okay?”

You removed your hand from the mouthpiece. “T-Trying,” you rasped out. Holy crap, this was a bad episode you were having. You were completely mortified. Perhaps you really should hang up. You were worried, though, that now he might notify someone or think you really were prank calling the helpline. Either way, you were bound to get in trouble and even more embarrassed, and that just made your chest tighter.

“Okay. That’s good. I’ll take that. Do you have asthma or something similar?”

Great. That’s how bad you’d sounded; he thought you might actually have some sort of breathing issue. Well, technically, you were struggling to breathe right now so it made sense that he would think that but if he only knew the actual answer was something that was beyond ridiculous and couldn’t be explained away as something as serious as asthma.

“No,” you whispered, rubbing at the spot in your chest where a mix of discomfort and a heavy-rock-feeling sat.

“And you’re sure you don’t need to go to the hospital to get checked out?” He sounded concerned now.

“No,” you repeated, staring up at your ceiling, your vision blurring with building tears. All you wanted to do was give this helpline thing a shot since nothing else seemed to be working, and here you had gone and made it so much worse. On top of that, you were frustrated that you couldn’t even do something as simple as answer a person when they said hello on a phone call that you made to them. What was wrong with you?

“Okay. That’s good. Why don’t I talk for a minute so you can relax?” A tear slipped down your cheek when you realized he must have heard your heavy exhales over the phone. “Like I said before, my name is CJ. I’ve been with the helpline for a while now. I’m here four days a week. I try to schedule shifts around my classes and pick up a few extra when I’m able. Before you called, I was doing some reading for my Philosophy class. It’s not my major but I had to take another humanities course. It was that or religion so…philosophy it was.”

You closed your eyes and focused on his voice. It was actually very soothing and it was helping.

“Between you and me, I’m not the best student.” Your eyes opened and you stared at the ceiling, listening intently. “I mean, I do okay in terms of grades, but I’m not exactly a frequent flier on the Dean’s list.” He chuckled and after a moment, he asked, “How about you?”

You swallowed, feeling the slightest bit of easing up on your chest, almost if it was allowing the words through. “I do okay.” You didn’t sound as raspy as before but you still had a faint wheeze at the end. You were coming out of this, slowly but surely.

“That’s good. College sure isn’t easy, by any means. When midterms roll around, I always get a little more stressed. I usually have to blow off some steam to keep it all balanced, you know? Or else I get easily overwhelmed. I have to remind myself to take it one class at a time, one day at a time. But easier said than done sometimes, right?”

“Right.” You knew what he was doing but since it seemed to be helping, you played along. He was getting to the heart of the issue while also giving you time to come back down. You’d only been on the phone with him for close to ten minutes and already you felt much better than you had when the call started.

“How are you feeling? Any better?”

“A little.”

“Good.” He sounded genuinely pleased. “Is my being the one to talk helping any?”

“Actually…yeah,” you breathed out.

“Does this happen a lot?”

You bit at your lip, not really wanting to admit it, but you had called for this very reason, hadn’t you? “Yeah.”

“Around midterms or anytime?”

“Anytime.”

“Even when you’re not in school?”

“Sometimes,” you whispered. “But mostly when I’m here.”

“So school related then?”

“Kind of.”

He was quiet for a moment and you wondered if you had said something wrong or if he was looking instructions up in a pamphlet or something for this sort of thing.

“Hey, did you see Phantom Menace when it came out last year?”

That caught you off guard. You hadn’t expected to switch gears so quickly. “Um, no?”

“You’re not a Star Wars fan, I take it?”

He didn’t sound disappointed so you chalked that up to being a good thing. Most guys you’d met either were completely into Star Wars or weren’t into it at all. “I don’t know if I’d call myself a fan but I’ve seen the original movies.”

“Uh oh, you’re not one of those prequel snobs, are you?” He teased.

“No? I just saw the trailer and I wasn’t interested.”

“Well, a buddy of mine and I went to see it when it came out. The theater was packed. I’m talking bursting at the seams.” A small smile started to creep onto your face at his energy. “And when the lights went down and the opening credits started rolling and the music started up, everyone was cheering and clapping. It was pretty awesome. My buddy ended up loving it. He’s the biggest Star Wars fan you’ve ever met.” A moment later he asked, “So besides anything in a galaxy, far far away, have you seen any other movies that came out?”

“I went to see The Green Mile. My, uh, my dad is a big Tom Hanks fan and a Stephen King fan so he really wanted to go.”

“And you?”

“I liked it. Though it was sad.”

“I didn’t see it yet but I got the feeling that it was going to be a bit of a heavy one.”

“It was, but it was worth it.” You noticed then that you were talking to him normally, you were breathing normally, your chest was still a little tight but that was to be expected, and you were sitting up with your back to the wall. You had gotten through your latest episode and this CJ had helped. Perhaps there was something to this helpline thing after all.

“I’m definitely going to check it out then. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Almost as if he had heard your thoughts, he then said, “You sound a lot better than earlier. Hopefully, you’re feeling better, too?”

“Um, yeah.” You anxiously tucked your hair behind your ear. “Thanks for earlier, by the way. You know, being patient…”

“Of course. That’s what I’m here for.”

“Right.”

“So, you feel up to telling me what’s going on and why you called tonight or did you want to talk about something else?”

You bit at your thumbnail, unsure. “I feel bad. I’ve taken up so much of your time already.” You glanced at the clock and saw that you had been on the phone with him now for almost half an hour.

“Don’t worry about the time and I don’t want you feeling badly.” He sounded completely genuine when he said it and it made you feel a little bit better about monopolizing his time like this. “This is why I’m here. So, if you want to talk, I’m here to listen.”

You still weren’t certain you should take him up on his offer. “Are you sure? What if there’s someone else who needs to call in who is having an actual crisis and you’re stuck on the phone with me? I would feel bad if they didn’t get to talk to you when they needed to because of me.”

“I’m not the only one here so if someone else does call in, they’ll speak to one of the other counselors who can help them. While we’re on the subject, what you’re experiencing is just as valid as what anyone else might be experiencing. I’m not stuck on the phone with you, I want to be talking with you and try to help you in any way I can. And yes, I’m sure.”

You contemplated it, turning it over and over in your brain. This was why you called. This was why you decided to give the helpline a try, to speak to a stranger who would listen and possibly be able to help you and if not, at least maybe understand where you were coming from. If he was willing (and he had been helpful so far), then why not?

“Would it help if I promise not to make any more Star Wars references?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Tremendously.”

“Deal,” he laughed. You liked the sound of his laugh; it was warm, inviting, and put you instantly at ease. This CJ seemed to know what he was doing and you could now see why people called in to speak to him and other counselors like him.

You nervously licked your lips and decided to take the plunge. You told him everything. You told him about how it started when you began college, how the classes and workload immediately overwhelmed you. How you struggled to keep from drowning in assignments and tests and projects and papers. How you started to develop these episodes and how badly you felt during them. How you had tried to talk to your parents but they just didn’t seem to hear you, dismissing it as an issue that would be resolved by you being more outgoing and feeling more grateful that you had such an educational opportunity when many didn’t. How you could be in a room full of a hundred people and still feel completely alone, especially when an episode kicked in. You’d even told him about your failed attempt at attending the frat party. He had rarely talked, giving you the floor, but he had interjected a couple of times to either support you or make some helpful suggestions. Other than that, he just listened. By the time you finished, you felt like you had told him your whole life story, but you had to admit that you felt a lot better once you got it all off your chest, which incidentally, was feeling lighter. And this time, someone listened and actually heard you. That made all the difference.

You glanced at the clock for the first time in a long time and noted it was 10:16. Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped, your cheeks immediately heating up. Had you really been talking nonstop for over three hours? “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize it was so late. I should let you go so you can speak to other callers.”

“My shift ended fifteen minutes ago actually.”

Your heart stopped and however much better you’d been feeling, felt like it went right down the drain. How could you have been so self-absorbed and only concerned with your problems that you’d talked his ear off and used up his whole shift? Not one other person got to talk to him tonight and you didn’t even go to that school. Seriously, how selfish were you? “I-I’m so, so sorry. You should have stopped me or told me there was a time limit per call.” You were full on babbling now. “I didn’t mean to— I am so beyond sorry. I’m going to let you go. Thank you so much for your help and I hope you have a good rest of your night. Don’t worry. I promise I won’t call again. Good night.”

You went to hang up the phone when you heard loudly, “Please don’t hang up.”

You put it back to your ear, your brows drawing together in confusion. “But you said your shift was over.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “But that’s okay. If I wanted you to stop talking, I would have said something. And did I ask you to stop?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Then I didn’t want you to stop talking. It seems like there’s a lot on your plate at the moment or else you wouldn’t have called, right?”

“Okay, yeah. But—”

“So it’s good that you called and I’m glad I was able to help. And for the record, there’s no time limit on a call.” Someone said something to him in the background and he quietly responded though you couldn’t hear what he said. “I’m actually gonna get going because my replacement is here and they don’t have another place to sit.”

“Right. Of course. Again, sorry.”

“But,” he continued. “I’m going to be here Monday afternoon around 2 so if you want to call back then we can talk again.”

“I have class then.” You truly did but even if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be calling him back. You had taken up enough of his time.

“I’m here until 6:00 that day.”

“I have a study session after that class.” Okay, maybe that was a lie. “But I appreciate the offer. Thank you and have a good—”

“I’m back on again next Friday. Same time. Why don’t you call me then if you’re free?”

“I appreciate it, CJ, but don’t worry. If I need the helpline again, I’ll call, but you helped me a lot tonight and I feel better so…I won’t need to call. Again, I’m sorry I monopolized your shift.”

“Do me a favor and call me again anyway, even if you are feeling better. I’d like to check in with you and the only way I can do that is if you call me back.”

“Right. Being anonymous and all,” you mumbled. Thank God for that. You didn’t think your embarrassment at talking his head off for over three hours while you complained about your life would ever go away.

“Yeah. So, please, if you can call me next week, same time, even if you just tell me you’re feeling better and hang up. That’s all I ask.”

You supposed you could do that, after he’d generously taken the time to hear you out, after he’d helped you through your episode. “Okay.”

“Friday, 7:00. Promise me.”

“I promise,” you whispered.

And so had begun the tradition of you calling him every Friday night at 7:00. You hadn’t intended for that to happen, honestly. But each time you would talk to him, ranging in times from twenty minutes to an hour and a half (you refused to ever get near that three hour mark again, no matter what he said), he would always ask you to call him back the following week, making you promise that you would. Over time, you noticed that your overwhelmed feeling had lessened considerably (though not completely gone) and instead of having an episode (or panic attack as CJ called them) twice weekly, they had now diminished to one every couple of weeks. And even then they weren’t as bad as they had been, thanks to the techniques CJ suggested you try using. Things had gotten better for you and you had to admit, the helpline definitely was a useful service for students, though for your own personal experience, you attributed a lot of that to CJ.

Speaking of which, that was how you two began to get to know one another, moving from strictly counselor and caller into a tentative friendship. When initially speaking to him, he began to feel like a friend you were just catching up with on how your past week had been, and then it actually sort of became that. He started to tell you more details about himself and now you knew what type of music he liked, what he was majoring in, where he had grown up, and why he had joined The Stand. He had even shared his backstory with you and why he didn’t drink when you told him how uncomfortable college parties made you in general. The conversation was no longer one-sided and you’d come to like it that way.

Until the day came when he asked your name.

“My name?”

“Well, yeah, so I know what to call you. It feels weird calling you “you” all the time,” he laughed.

“Um…” You were practically crapping bricks. You didn’t expect this.

“Just your first name. You’ll still be anonymous,” he reassured. “It could be a nickname if you want. Or your middle name. Just something.”

You ran over it in your mind. What if he still somehow managed to find out who you were if you gave him only your first name? Sure, you weren’t going to the same schools, but what if somehow someway…? Plus, your friends weren’t exactly fans of CJ right now. Apparently, Jen had a major crush on him but her hopes were dashed when he told her he didn’t date (something he had told you long before you heard it via your friends) and then hooked up with Audrey the same night. You hadn’t been there that night, opting to stay in and study for a huge test you had coming up in your Lit class, and after hearing that not only had CJ been present but also what happened, you were glad you had made that decision. Audrey and Joey were on the outs thanks to the events of that night and now so were Jen and Audrey once it was revealed that CJ and Audrey had slept together, right before Pacey punched his face in.

When that Friday rolled around, you almost didn’t call him. You were angry and hurt yourself. Angry because his careless actions had hurt more than one of your friends, and hurt because truth be told, you had started to crush on him yourself from afar. You trusted him with the details of your life, very personal details (without giving specifics obviously), and he’d helped you. How could he be this helpful, compassionate guy working at a helpline but turn out to be this scummy, advantage-taking, selfish player? You couldn’t reconcile in your head the CJ you were getting to know with the CJ your friends saw.

“That’s just the thing, Y/N,” Jen told you when you wondered aloud how a helpline counselor could do something like he had with your friends. “Most people who go into those positions to help other people are usually a thousand times more screwed up than the people they’re helping. Audrey’s been hurting, as you know, and she’s been acting out and he saw an opportunity. Case closed.” But it wasn’t case closed for you. Not by a mile. You wanted answers, but how could you get them while remaining anonymous?

So that following Friday at 7:00, as you angrily punched in the helpline number, you had no idea how you would do it but you were determined to get them. And if you didn’t like what you heard, then this would be your last call and you would close the book on CJ and your budding friendship for good.

It caught you off guard, though, when you heard a different voice this time.

“Hello, Helpline. This is David.”

You nearly hung up. You knew David; he was starting to hang out with your group more and more, especially Jack. What if he recognized your voice?

“Hello?”

You forced yourself to ask the burning question on the tip of your tongue, albeit with a slightly higher pitch of voice. “Hi, is CJ there?”

“No, I’m sorry.” You covered the mouthpiece with your hand and let out a sigh of relief. Whether it was because David didn’t recognize you or you didn’t have to confront CJ right this second, you couldn’t be sure. Probably a bit of both. “He called out sick and asked me to fill in for him. He should be back next week, though.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll call then. Thank you.” You quickly hung up before he could ask you anything else.

The next Friday you called, you got CJ.

“Hey,” he greeted, sounding relieved when he heard your voice. “How are you?”

“I’m okay.” You were standing in your dorm room, staring out the window and watching the rain, your arms crossed. You weren’t as angry as last week, the extra time allowing you to let a cooler head prevail, but you still wanted answers. “How are you?”

“Honestly? I’ve been better.”

“I’m sorry. I know you were sick last week. Has it not gotten any better?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m sorry about that. I was feeling lousy and just needed to take a day, you know?” And he didn’t need to be parading around a still-healing black eye that might prompt questions, you bet.

“I get that.”

“God, I wish I had your number outside of this so I could call you.” Your jaw tightened. Perhaps your friends were right; there was a whole other side to him. A side you didn’t really want to get to know. “I really could’ve used a friend to talk to.”

You unclenched your jaw when you realized he wasn’t hitting on you and when you thought about it, he sounded genuinely miserable and he never had in any of your previous conversations, even when your friendship formed. It was unlike him, or at least the CJ you had gotten to know. Just like this behavior your friends had told you about sounded unlike him. “Well, I’m here now, if you want to talk.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make this about me. You called in to talk, not to hear about my problems,” he laughed, sounding nervous. That was a first.

“I’m sure. What are friends for?”

He told you everything while not naming anyone. He didn’t hold back anything and you realized that while he didn’t know who you were, he was giving you the side that had been missing from the story your friends told you: his side. Every side has a story after all. He admitted he had messed up big time. He had hurt Jen (or Blondie as he called her), he had been an ass to Pacey (or The Guy Who Punched My Face) when he had no right to be, and he should have never hooked up with Audrey (or The Girl That Came Out of Nowhere). Apparently, Jen had said to him the same thing she said to you and it got him thinking, along with some things Audrey had said. He felt like a huge jerk and all he wanted to do was keep his head down and move forward, get back on the right track that his life had been headed in. You stayed silent as he talked and before you knew it, the clock read 9:47.

“Your shift is over soon,” you whispered once he was done.

“Yeah, but I still have a few minutes. So what do you think? Am I a complete jackass or what?” He let out another nervous chuckle.

You briefly pressed your lips together as you thought of how best to answer that. In the end, you were as honest as you could be without giving yourself away. “I think we all make mistakes sometimes. But as long as we recognize them, apologize to those we’ve hurt, and try to do better, then that’s all that matters. So no, not a complete jackass.”

This time when he laughed, it sounded relieved. “Thanks.”

“Of course. That’s what I’m here for,” you repeated his words back to him, teasing him slightly.

A moment of silence passed between you before he asked, “Will you call again next week?”

That made you do a double take. He never asked you to call the following week like that. Usually he asked in the form of making you promise you would call or he’d tell you he’d talk to you the following week. But when he asked like this, he sounded uncertain, vulnerable. You knew then that more than just his face and ego had been hurt by recent events. Perhaps you were a fool but you believed his remorse to be genuine.

“Yeah,” you assured him. “I’ll call next week.”

And when you did, he immediately hit you with the name question.

“Earth to you…” He called, snapping you out of it and reclaiming your attention. “See? It doesn’t really work,” he laughed.

You had to be careful here. Not only because you didn’t want him to find out who you were but also because if your friends ever found out, especially Audrey…you were toast.

You opened your mouth to give him the name of a classmate that couldn’t be traced back to you but “Jo” came tumbling out instead.

“Jo?”

Oh crap. You had Audrey and then Joey on your mind and it just slipped out. Crap, crap, crap. “Yeah,” you lied. “Jo.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jo.” You could practically hear him smiling, happy to have gotten a name out of you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, angry with yourself. “Nice to meet you, too,” you mumbled before you dropped your head into your hands.

So now here you were, him thinking you were Jo from the college he was attending, and you were calling him every single week at the same time like clock work. You had long ago stopped questioning the morality of what you were doing and it seemed that he didn’t appear to question it at all. He was always happy to hear from you and your conversations were more personal now. You couldn’t deny the way your heart rate spiked every time you heard his voice when he picked up the call or how whenever his name was mentioned in passing by David or Jen (though rare these days), you would specifically tune in, listening for anything that had to do with him. You had it bad and you knew it, but it was also a safe crush from a distance and would be staying that way.

You shook your head, snapping yourself out of your reverie and remembered CJ has asked you a question. “I’m good. Really good. How about you?”

“Really good, huh? I’m happy to hear it and happy to be hearing from you.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, I got that paper back and you were so right, The Writing Center really helped. I can’t believe I never thought to try it before. Thank you so much for that idea.”

“I’m happy to be of service,” he chuckled. “I’m glad it helped. And the club thing? Did you give that a try as well?”

Your smile dropped. He had been trying to urge you to join a club or a group where you had shared interests with other students. His theory was that if you gave a small group of people a shot doing a social activity you might enjoy, that it might help decrease your nervousness in other social settings. Even though you told him you had a group of friends you regularly met up with, he didn’t think expanding your social circles would be a bad thing to consider. “No? I told you, CJ, that’s not really my thing.”

“I get that, I do. How about this? If you want, I could meet you at Student Activities and we could take a look around together, get some info. No pressure, of course, but you wouldn’t have to walk in there alone. I know it can be a bit much sometimes. I remember my first semester here and I didn’t know where to stick my head.”

You froze. That was the first time he’d ever mentioned the possibility of you meeting in person. Perhaps if you were really Jo from Boston Bay College, you could take him up on it or give him your number like he’d asked you for or call his room number like he’d offered up a few times now so you could talk outside of the helpline. But you weren’t and so you had to decline. “I appreciate the offer but it’s not my thing so I’m going to have to pass. Sorry, but thank you, though.”

“If you’re sure.” He sounded slightly disappointed but maybe that was just you imagining it.

“Yep, I’m sure. Uh, so listen, I can’t stay on long. My roommate and her boyfriend will be here in less than ten so I’m gonna go so I can get out of here before I get hit by the clothes hurricane that’s most likely to happen.” It was a complete lie. Your roommate, Stacey, had actually gone to visit her boyfriend for the weekend. You would have peace and quiet and the dorm to yourself for two whole days.

He chuckled good-naturedly. “I don’t blame you. If you get bored later, I’m here at The Stand until 10:00, like you already know, and then I’ll be back in my room. You can call me then if you want to talk. I”ll be up for a while so don’t worry about calling too late.”

“Oh. Thanks. Maybe I’ll do that.” You weren’t going to and he knew you weren’t going to. You hadn’t the last two times he’d made the same offer and the last two times you’d given him the same response.

“Jo?”

“Yeah?”

“If I don’t hear from you… Call next week, okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed, smiling, like always. You said your quick goodbyes and you hung up, letting out a heavy breath. While he had been urging you to contact him personally, he had never mentioned meeting him before. That was different. And it worried you at the same time. Why the offer now? Granted, he was just trying to be helpful to you, given the context, but what if he began to find other ways to work it in like he already had about your phone numbers? What if he continued to push to meet Jo?

You shook your head, telling yourself that you were doing it again, worrying over things that might not happen. You would cross that bridge when you came to it, something CJ had once said to you that you kept for yourself as your own personal mantra. You would wait to see how next week would go.

But unfortunately, the call never happened.

You had been out with Jack and David on Thursday night at Hell’s Kitchen, when Jen waltzed in, smiling and taking a seat. Joey and Emma were working and Pacey was supposed to join you later.

“You worked late today,” Jack commented.

“Training took a little bit longer than expected. We were supposed to be done at 6:00 but then our relief called and said they were going to be late. Of course, since CJ was going to stay, I wasn’t going to just leave him there.” Your ears perked up at the mention of CJ. You knew Jen was training as a counselor and he was the one training her. Jen had begrudgingly forgiven CJ but it was also obvious to you all that she still had a crush on him. While you couldn’t blame her, you also felt for her. CJ told you that he had to make it clear once more to Blondie that he wasn’t looking to date though he was happy she had finally started training at the helpline. He really believed she would make a great counselor once she settled into it.

Talk about complicated. Jen was your friend and you didn’t want to see her get hurt, but you could also understand if CJ didn’t see her that way, he just didn’t. They were both your friends now and you just wanted them both to be happy, whatever that looked like.

“But then, listen to this,” she continued. “Our relief, this guy named Seth, sees me there with CJ and starts teasing him about how he’s racking up all of these beautiful girls through the helpline, not leaving any for him.”

“Jen,” Jack warned.

“No, listen. This is good. You’re going to like this.”

Jack sighed but let her finish.

“CJ laughs it off but then Seth mentions how he has this girl calling him every Friday night, around the same time, and she talks his ear off for hours.”

You were about to take a bite of your french fry when you froze. Your heart dropped down to your feet.

“And so I ask if this is true and CJ says that we’re there to help everybody, time limits aren’t a thing, and it doesn’t matter how many times a caller calls back or they speak to the same counselor. As long as they get the help they need.”

“He’s right,” David chimed in.

“But then Seth starts teasing him again and asks if CJ can give him tips on how to get dates using the helpline. CJ laughs and says sure. I mention how he said he wasn’t looking to date and Seth says he tells every girl that so he doesn’t have to commit but can still get what he wants.” You dropped your fry back into your basket, trying to ignore the rolling nausea in your stomach.

“I don’t know about that,” David chuckled nervously.

“He didn’t deny it, David. He just laughed and walked away. Can you believe it? He’s using the helpline to get girls. Talk about abusing the system, not to mention the absolute lack of morality.” You definitely felt like you were going to be sick. “I quit. If that’s what guys like him and Seth are using that helpline for then I don’t want any part of it. And CJ? Audrey was right. He’s a skeevy player. I can’t believe I didn’t see it this whole time.” Jen shook her head. You were getting that all-too familiar falling feeling again.

“Wait, seriously? Guys are using the helpline to pick up girls?” Jack turned to David.

“No. Jen, I’m sure Seth was just kidding and CJ was just playing along. Nobody is using the helpline to pick anyone up. Everyone that works there knows the rules and they’re there to help callers. How could they pick anyone up, anyway? It’s all anonymous.”

“Yeah, but if they pushed for a date or something… It could happen.” You immediately felt your stomach jolt and like someone had punched you in the gut at the same time.

“It could,” David agreed. “But I doubt it does.”

“He has the same girl calling him every single week at the same time. What would keep her calling like that?” Jen interjected. You glanced away from the table for a moment, not sure if you wanted to hear the answer David would give.

“Is that true? Every week?” Jack asked in disbelief.

“It’s true,” David confirmed. “I actually got her once when CJ was out sick. She sounded nice.” If you could have, you would have given him a smile, thankful for David’s attempt to defend CJ and the helpline and unknowingly you. But right then, you were trying not to hyperventilate. “And CJ appears to be helping her. He said she’s made a lot of progress since they started talking.”

“He talked to you about her?” Jen looked shocked. Oh God. Your chest started to feel tight.

“Only because he was going to be out sick that one day and in case she called and then decided to talk to me, he wanted me to be up to speed in case she needed something. That’s all.”

“I feel badly for this girl. She probably thinks CJ is some great guy and she can trust him but based on what Seth said, he’s simply playing the long game with her. A girl whose trust he’s taking advantage of. I’m telling you, Audrey was right about him and I should’ve seen it.” Jen rubbed at her forehead. It was beyond hot in here and even though it wasn’t crowded, the room started to feel smaller.

“I don’t think that’s true, Jen,” David defended. “I don’t think he’s looking to take advantage of this girl at all. I think he truly wants to help her.”

“Yeah, that’s how it started with Audrey and look at how that turned out.” David dropped his gaze to his food, continuing to poke at it with his fork. There wasn’t much he could say to that though he wished he still would. “And if that’s true, he only wants to help her, then why was he laughing along when Seth talked about her and how she keeps him on the phone for hours? How is that helping her?”

You felt like your feet were locked in cement but your legs were wobbling to and fro. And yet you also felt like a large boulder was now sitting on your chest, making it difficult to breathe. How could any of this conversation be happening right now?

Jack glanced from David to Jen. “Perhaps David’s right, Jen. Maybe he was just playing along. That’s what guys do sometimes. You know that.”

“I don’t think that’s what that was. Either way, I quit.”

Jack and David started to urge her not to quit, but at that point you’d had enough. Your hands were clammy and you felt that feeling on your forehead, too. You needed cold, and air. “Excuse me,” you nearly rasped out and beat a hasty retreat to the bathroom. You could feel your dinner coming back up. Joey stopped you in your trek.

“Hey, Y/N, are you okay? You don’t look so good.”

You shook your head and dodged past her, hurrying to the bathroom. Once you reached it, you locked the door and pushed into a stall just in time. You emptied the contents of your stomach and once you were finished, you made your way towards the sink, splashing cold water on your face. You could feel the panic attack you were having and you tried your best to ward it off but to no avail.

You slid down the wall and struggled to breathe, trying the techniques CJ had taught you. You didn’t want to think about him right now but you also didn’t want to be having this happen while your friends sat right outside. Not to mention, you knew Joey was going to come check on you. You gasped for air and rubbed at your chest. Once it passed, you unlocked the door, made excuses to Joey and your friends, went home, showered, and cried yourself to sleep. For the first time in a while, you’d had a particularly bad episode and ended the night in tears: two things you hadn’t done since you’d started talking to CJ regularly. You felt as if all the progress you’d made was like a house of cards that fell to the ground after one card was pulled out from under you. And all because you’d trusted the wrong person.

So you stopped calling and instead, spent your Friday nights at the library, studying, so you wouldn’t be tempted to pick up the phone and call to confront the guy who’d betrayed your trust.

A few weeks later, you were sitting on Joey’s bed, watching Audrey unload her closet onto her mattress. Apparently, she was going to rehab, for real this time. She was ready to confront the fact that her drinking was out of control. Joey was helping her sort through everything and handed you things to fold and place in her suitcase. Eddie had already taken one heavy suitcase down to the car, along with a very high Bob.

You all looked up when there was a polite knock on their dorm room door. Joey got up to answer it, most likely thinking it was Eddie, but when she opened the door, it revealed another guy altogether.

There stood CJ, in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt with a jacket covering his tall frame. Your heart skipped a beat before falling into your stomach but then leaping back into place and pounding faster than before for a whole other reason. You immediately grabbed a magazine from the nightstand and began sifting through it, your jaw clenched and you refusing to look in his direction.

Before anyone could say a word, Audrey groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw CJ hold up a placating hand in her direction. “I’m not here for you, okay? I’m actually looking for someone.”

You froze.

“I bet you are,” Audrey grumbled.

Joey crossed her arms. “Who?”

“A girl by the name of Jo who lives in this building.”

You mentally cursed yourself. You knew you had let the name of your dorm building slip once by accident but he hadn’t appeared to have heard you so you thought you were in the clear; apparently, he had heard you. Crap.

Joey tensed. Uh oh. You had a feeling this was going to come back to haunt you at some point. Here it was. “Why are you looking for me?”

CJ’s brow drew together. “You’re Jo?”

Audrey was suddenly at Joey’s side. “Yeah, why are you looking for her?”

“Jo is a girl who called the helpline. I haven’t heard from her in a few weeks and I just wanted to check on her.”

Her distaste for CJ forgotten, Audrey turned in shock to her roommate. “Joey Potter, you called the helpline?”

“What? No. Don’t be ridiculous, Audrey.” Joey then looked at CJ. “I don’t know who this girl is but it’s not me. Good luck in your search.” She went to close the door but CJ stopped her.

“Wait, so you’ve never heard of a girl named Jo who lives in this building?”

“No,” Audrey snapped. “Now, go away.”

“Hold on a second. Because Joanna Martin who lives on the 2nd floor isn’t her and has never heard of her. Now you’re saying you’re not her and you’ve never heard of her either?”

Audrey gave him a nasty smirk. “Imagine that. A girl using a fake name calling an anonymous helpline. She probably knows what a sleazeball you are and didn’t want you stalking her. If she was calling the helpline, she’s probably got enough on her plate. Best of luck, Stalker Boy.”

Audrey went to shut the door in his face but again, he stopped it.

“I don’t really care what you think of me. You want to think I’m the bad guy in everything that happened with us? That’s fine. But I’m actually trying to find this girl to help her.”

“Help her into your bed, you mean.”

His jaw clenched. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, I bet it is but whatever.” Audrey rolled her eyes and turned back to you. “Y/N, have you ever heard of this girl he’s looking for?”

Your eyes snapped up to them and all three of them were now staring at you, waiting for your answer. Crap. CJ was looking right at you. Double crap. You shook your head and went back to your magazine.

“There you go. No one here has heard of her. Buh-bye now.”

Audrey was closing the door when Joey’s phone started to ring. Joey, who had gone back into the whirlwind of clothes, looked over at you. “Hey, can you get that? Eddie might be calling from his cell phone.”

You nodded and picked up the line. “Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N. Can I talk to Joey? Audrey’s friend, Bob, is getting a little impatient down here.”

“Sure. One sec.” You handed the phone to Joey. “It’s Eddie.” She took it and began rolling her eyes when Eddie was most likely telling her the same thing he had just told you. She came over, zipped up the suitcase you had been working on after dumping more things into it. “Do you mind taking this to Eddie downstairs? He’ll meet you in the lobby.”

“Sure thing.” You tossed the magazine back onto the night stand and grabbed the suitcase handle, picking it up and placing it on its wheels. You slipped your worn paperback copy of your book into the back pocket of your jeans, intent on returning it to your room when you came back up. Now that you knew CJ was trying to track you down and he was in the building, you didn’t feel comfortable having any clues pointing to your identity out in the open like that.

You grabbed the tail of the suitcase and began to pull it along. “Oh my God, Aud. Do you really need this many outfits?”

She looked up from her cell phone and gave you a smile. “Of course. Rehab is bound to be drab so I’m going to make it fab.” She shot you a wink and opened the door for you.

You laughed and shook your head, crossing over the threshold. You made your way to the elevator and pushed the button. While you were waiting, you heard behind you, “Need some help with that?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin. CJ was right there, behind you, talking directly to you. While a part of you wanted to tell him to take a hike, your desire for anonymity was greater. You turned and gave him a wan smile, shaking your head. His green eyes were intent on you and you didn’t care for that one bit. It was like he knew who you were without you even having to say it. Luckily, at that moment, the elevator dinged and the door opened. You went to roll the suitcase onto it when a hand picked it up out of nowhere.

“Let me give you a hand,” CJ offered, not waiting for you to reply and stepping into the elevator. You paused for a moment, considering not getting onto it with him but Eddie was expecting you and Joey and Audrey were waiting for you to come back. You let out a quiet sigh and stepped inside, hitting the button for the Lobby and waiting for the doors to close.

Once they did and you started descending, CJ glanced over at you. “So, Jo, were you planning on ever calling me again?”

Your heart started to pound but you forced yourself to remain cool as a cucumber, hoping he wouldn’t recognize your voice. You arched a questioning brow up at him. “I don’t know who you think I am but my name’s Y/N. Sorry to disappoint.” You turned back to the door.

“The Green Mile book in your back pocket says otherwise.”

Crap. You tried to think quickly. “That’s just a book I’m reading for class.” You decided to channel Audrey, the queen of mean when she wanted to be; perhaps that would get him to leave you alone. The doors were opening and you turned to give him a smirk. “NIce try, though, Sherlock. Better get back to Watson before he misses you.” You grabbed the tail of the suitcase and nearly stormed out of the elevator.

CJ was suddenly at your side. “I know it’s you. Why are you trying so hard to act like it’s not?”

You shook your head, choosing to ignore him. Thankfully, Eddie came into sight, rushing to get the suitcase.

“Thank you, thank you.” He picked it up and gave you a look. “About how many more of these are coming down, do you think?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. She has a lot of outfits. Joey’s got her work cut out for her.”

Eddie groaned and then noticed CJ standing next to you. “Good to see you again, man.”

“Likewise.”

Eddie glanced between you and CJ before walking away. Great. He was bound to mention that to Joey who would most likely question you about it later thanks to CJ’s impromptu appearance earlier. You spun on your heel and headed back to the elevator, punching the button.

CJ was suddenly next to you. “What happened? Why did you stop calling?” He quietly asked you.

You didn’t answer him, just kept staring straight ahead, your jaw clenched.

He leaned in slightly, his voice even quieter. “Did I make you nervous by offering to meet you? I was only trying to help. Nothing funny, I promise.”

When the doors opened, you stepped inside and of course, he followed you. The doors closed and your ride up began.

“Are you going to talk to me or just keep ignoring me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know your voice. It’s you.” After another quiet moment, he begged, “Would you please just talk to me? What happened?”

You shook your head.

“Something obviously happened to make you stop calling. So, talk to me. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

You glared over at him. “Again, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now please stop bothering me.” CJ looked as if you’d slapped him for a moment and you felt guilty but then you immediately remembered what Jen had said that night at the bar.

He gave you a curt nod and turned to face the door. Once it opened, you went to step out when he lifted the book out of your back pocket.

“Hey! Give that back!” He held it out of your reach, opening it to find the note from your dad on the inside page that he’d written after he bought it for you. Why did you have to mention that in your phone conversations? That was a dead giveaway that yes, Jo was indeed you. How could you have been so stupid?

CJ gestured to the note. “Tell me again how it’s not you.”

You snatched the book out of his hands and hurried down the hall to your room. You would’ve gone back to Audrey’s and Joey’s room, but you were afraid he’d out you to them. Even if they didn’t believe him, you still remembered Audrey’s reaction when she thought it might be Joey for a moment and the latter’s response.

“Y/N, wait,” CJ begged behind you. “Please, can we just talk for a minute?” You were unlocking your door when he was right next to you. “Just one minute. Please. That’s all I’m asking. Then, if you want, you’ll never see or hear from me again.”

You mulled it over for a moment. You could do one minute, you supposed, and get this over with. You glanced up at him and nodded, pretending not to see the relief that filled his expression. You opened the door and then held it open wider for him to follow.

You saw your roommate sitting on her bed, talking on the phone to her boyfriend. “Stace,” you interrupted. “Can you give us a minute?”

She frowned. “I’m kind of in the middle of—”

“I need the room.” Your tone brooked no argument. You surprised her; usually, you kept to yourself and never really stood up to her if she got mean or demanding. But you were not in the mood for any of her crap right then. You were at your limit.

Stacey scoffed but got to her feet. “One second, babe.” She glared at you, which you were more than happy to return, and then turned it onto CJ as well. “Boys aren’t allowed to stay up here so make it quick. You know the rules.”

You huffed out a snort. “The rule you break almost every other night? Got it, Stace, thanks for looking out.” You practically shut the door in her scowling face. You turned to find CJ’s eyes trained on you.

“So that’s the roommate, huh?” You shrugged. “Exactly how I pictured her, scowl and everything.”

You didn’t laugh at his joke and instead, crossed your arms. “You wanted to talk?”

He pressed his lips together and thrust his hands into his jacket pockets. “Why did you stop calling?”

You wanted to tell him the truth but it also seemed best to just get him out of there as soon as possible. He knew who you really were now and that was a problem. Especially if your friends found out you were the girl that had been calling him every week. Because sooner or later, they would want to know why and you weren’t ready to talk about that or have them look at you funny. You knew they’d be supportive, especially Joey and Audrey, but you also knew things would change. And you weren’t quite ready for that to happen.

“I’ve been doing better so there was no need. You should know, you made me your pet project after all.” You didn’t mean to be harsh but you were still angry.

His brows furrowed. “What does that mean?”

“You know. I’m the girl who calls you every week to talk your ear off and keeps you on the phone for hours. The girl you’ve supposedly been trying to pick up through the helpline, though apparently I’m not the only one.”

His eyes widened. “Y/N, that’s not true at all. I don’t use the helpline to pick up girls or try to get dates. I don’t date, you know I don’t. I don’t know who told you that but it’s not true.”

“But the other part is?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Because that’s how your buddy Seth put it, the way Jen tells it.”

CJ huffed out a mirthless laugh, rubbing at his forehead and giving a nod. “Jen. That’s who you heard this from.”

“Don’t even,” you snapped. “David also mentioned how you told him all about me and my issues.” You used quotation marks on the last word.

His hand dropped. “Okay, first off, you don’t have issues, no more than anybody else around here, myself included. Second, I only told David because I was going to be out that one night. I wanted to make sure if you called in that you were taken care of. That’s it. David is one of our better counselors, he’s a friend, and I trust him completely.”

Your jaw tightened. “That still doesn’t explain why Seth would even say anything like that. And you laughed! You stood there and laughed as this guy, who I don’t know by the way, is turning me calling you for help into a joke! Is that what I am? The joke at the office? Does everyone there know how I’ve been calling you every week and boring you to death with my problems?”

“What? No! You’re not a joke. And you’re not—”

“Really? Because it sure sounded like it to me based on what Jen said.”

“Okay, let’s get something straight. You’re not boring me to death when you call, you’re not talking my ear off, or keeping me stuck on the phone with you, or anything else that someone else might have said. I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to be there for you and try to help. Then when we started talking about more than that, I wanted to talk to you even more. If I didn’t want to talk to you at all, if you were such a nuisance, then why would I ask you to call back every week or give you my phone number even?”

“But you weren’t trying to pick me up.”

“No, I wasn’t. I wanted to be available to you if you needed to talk to me outside of the hours I had at The Stand.”

“Yeah, because I was your pet project.”

“No, you weren’t and why do you keep saying that?”

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not.”

“Isn’t that what you do, though? Isn’t that why you tracked me down? Isn’t that why you kept trying to get my number and even suggested we meet though the helpline’s supposed to be anonymous? You look for girls who are messed up and try to be their white knight. It gives you some sort of satisfaction, some twisted sense of purpose… That’s what happened with Audrey, right?” Again, he looked like you slapped him but this time, you didn’t feel guilty. You were only speaking the truth. He had told you how much he wanted to help Audrey and how somehow they ended up in bed together and before he knew it, he really liked her and wanted to see more of her. In the end, he’d admitted to you that it might have been him confusing his desire to help her with his interest in her. That maybe Audrey had been right in what she’d said.

You watched as his shoulders deflated slightly and he let out a heavy breath, hanging his head. You bit your lip and glanced away from him, not wanting to see him look so defeated. You had to be strong, you had to stand up for yourself and not let him or anyone else take advantage of you. That was the silent vow you’d made to yourself after you’d cried yourself to sleep that night you found out how you were being used and made a mockery of.

“I tracked you down because I was worried,” he spoke softly. You turned back to find him staring at you, remorse radiating from him. You felt slightly bad for hurting him but you had said nothing but the truth, from his own lips. “It wasn’t like you not to call so I thought maybe something happened or maybe I made you nervous with that last call. Like I said, I gave you my number because I wanted to be there for you anytime you needed me, even if I wasn’t working. So this way you always had a way to get a hold of me if you needed to. I only asked for yours because I did like talking to you and I thought we were becoming friends. I know that’s not the norm for the helpline and it’s never happened before, to me or to anyone else that I know of, but like I said, I enjoyed talking to you. I only offered to meet you at Student Activities that day because you seemed nervous to try it alone and I didn’t want you to feel like that. I would’ve made that offer to anyone that needed it.” He nervously licked his lips. “I do like you but it has nothing to do with my wanting to help you or make sure you’re okay. I made a mistake with Audrey but I learned from it. I told you that.” He sighed before continuing. “I like you, Y/N, because you’re funny and smart and kind. Even if we didn’t meet through the helpline, I still would have liked you once I got to talk to you, once I got to know you better. That’s the truth.”

He turned to leave when he stopped suddenly. “By the way, Seth is the guy who usually relieves me on Friday nights. That’s how he knew about you calling every week. He always liked to razz me about being on the phone with you since I made him fifteen minutes late for his shift that one time. I only laughed because it was obvious he was showing off for Jen, that he likes her, and I was trying not to embarrass him in front of her. I did end up talking to him later about it, though, and asked him not to mention it again in front of her or anyone else. He agreed; he’s not a bad guy.” He glanced back at you over his shoulder. “I’m sorry this happened. If you call the helpline again and want to talk to someone else, I understand. If you don’t want to call at all, I understand that, too. Just…take care of yourself, alright?”

You averted your eyes, not wanting him to see the tears building in them, and you gave him a curt nod. You only looked up again when the door snicked closed. You pretended a tear didn’t suddenly roll down your cheek and you told yourself that you had done the right thing. Though it certainly didn’t feel like it in the moment, deep within your chest.

You stared at your phone, pacing back and forth as you chewed on your thumbnail. It had been almost a month since CJ walked out of your dorm room, leaving you more conflicted than you felt prior to his arrival. You had turned his explanation over and over in your mind so much that you had begun to dream about him every night. You had more panic attacks during that time, to the point where you’d finally taken the plunge and made an appointment to see a therapist. You’d told your parents everything you’d been experiencing, making sure they heard you this time, and told them you needed help. Your mother was still annoyed with you but your father was supportive, especially when you told him that you had a group of friends you met up with pretty regularly. He agreed to help with payments for your therapy.

You were doing better, just like you had been while talking to CJ, and the therapist had even more techniques in her toolbox that she taught you how to use. You’d even opened up to her about CJ and everything that happened with him. She was the initial reason why you were considering making a call that you hadn’t made in quite a while.

When you saw the clock hit 7:21, you made your decision. You huffed out a breath, picked up the phone, and dialed the all-too familiar number.

“Hello, Helpline. This is CJ.”

You resumed your pacing, nervous, unsure of how to say what you wanted to.

“Hello?”

You’ve got this.

“Hello?”

Just do it already. Talk to him.

“Listen, if you’re—”

“What are your plans for tomorrow afternoon?” You rushed out before you lost your nerve.

“Jo?” You appreciated him using your fake name. “Is that you?”

“Well?” You asked.

“Uh, tomorrow? I’m free...”

“Would you…want to get some coffee? Maybe?”

“Coffee, huh?” You could hear the smile in his voice. “Jo, you’re not calling the helpline to ask me out on a coffee date, are you? Because that would be a serious misuse of this valuable resource the college provides,” he teased.

“Oh. Okay. Well, I’ll just wait until Seth is on shift then and call him up to ask him instead. Thanks, though. Bye.”

“Don’t you dare,” he laughed. You lifted the phone back up to your ear. “What time and what coffee shop?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Got a pen?”

You walked into the coffee shop ten minutes early, intent on getting a table and settling in before CJ arrived. To your surprise, he was already there, waving you over. You approached, feeling your heartbeat speed up with every step. “You’re early.”

“I wanted to make sure we got a good table.” You had a feeling that wasn’t the only reason. The worry shadowing his expression confirmed it. Did he really think you had called him up to ask him to meet you only for you not to show? Then again, you supposed you couldn’t blame him.

“Good thinking.” You gestured towards the line with your thumb. “I’m going to get some coffee. Do you want anything?”

He was immediately on his feet. “I’ll get it. You sit down. You still like lattes?”

You gave him a small smile and nodded; he remembered.

He returned your smile. “Okay. Here, take a seat. I’ll be back in a minute.” You watched him walk over to the line as you did just that.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous, but you were taking your therapist’s advice. You were moving your friendship with CJ away from the helpline and out into the real world. You were giving him another chance while also allowing both of you to start over. If CJ agreed to, that is.

A few minutes later, he returned and placed your cup in front of you. You gave him a smile of thanks and waited for him to join you.

“So,” he started once he was settled. “You called in.”

“Only to ask you to meet me,” you pointed out.

The corner of his lips tipped up in a genuine smile. “I’m glad you did.”

“Me, too.” And you meant it. You were happy he’d said yes. “I actually asked you to meet me because I wanted to thank you.”

His brows drew together. “Thank me?”

You nodded and began to tell him about all of the recent developments in your life, including therapy. You also apologized for how harsh you’d been the last time you saw each other but he waved it off, saying you didn’t need to and he understood. He listened intently and his smile grew when you mentioned how the therapy was helping and your panic attacks were starting to lessen.

“I’m really happy to hear it, Y/N, and I’m glad you’re doing better.”

You bit at your lip, feeling nervous about speaking this next part. “It wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t helped me the way you did, especially that first night. So, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he murmured.

Your heart began to pound against your rib cage but you bravely surged forward and kissed his cheek. When you sat back in your chair, his eyes were wide and you felt your face get hot. “Sorry. I just really wanted to do that for a long time. I hope that was okay.”

He grinned. “More than okay.” You felt relief sweep through you. “I was just thinking—”

“I know. You’re not dating, and we’re friends. Don’t worry, I understand.”

He studied you for a moment before speaking again. “I was going to say ‘I was just thinking what a coincidence because there’s something I’ve wanted to do for a really long time, too.’” His hand gently covered yours and he slowly leaned in, giving you time to pull away or tell him to stop. You weren’t going to do either.

His lips brushed gently against yours and you felt a thrill rush through you at the contact. You had imagined kissing him so many times but the fantasy did absolutely no justice to the real thing. When you broke apart but he didn’t lean back right away, he murmured, “Was that okay?”

“More than okay,” you whispered before pulling him back into you, both of you grinning like idiots before your lips connected again.

You stopped, seeing the front of the building you were about to go into. “Are you sure we should be doing this?” You asked nervously.

CJ turned back to you and gave you a reassuring smile before cupping your cheek and kissing you. “Yes. We should.”

“But—”

“Everything’s going to be fine,” he assured you. “Trust me. I’m right here with you, okay?” He pecked your lips one more time, tightened his hold on your hand, and began pulling you forward.

“Okay.” You didn’t sound so sure about this and truthfully, you weren’t.

CJ chuckled and led you inside. The Stand office was decorated with balloons and streamers and there was even confetti on the floor. One of the counselors was leaving since she was soon to graduate and a party was being thrown for her last day. You tried not to get overwhelmed at the amount of people filling the small space. It was overly warm in here and you could barely hear yourself think over the din of multiple conversations going on at once. Somewhere music was playing at a decent level. You noted a room in the back where through the window you could see two people sitting, talking on the phone, a closed door in between them and the noise.

CJ intertwined your fingers and moved you both towards a group of a few people that he was intent on talking to, people greeting him as he passed. You remembered the techniques you had been taught and tried to put them into action while reminding yourself that you were with CJ and he wasn’t going to abandon you.

He stopped and greeted the group before he turned to you smiling. “This is Y/N, my girlfriend.”

One of the guys laughed. “Ah, so this is Y/N.” Your heart started hammering inside your chest. “CJ hasn’t shut up about you since you two started dating.” You nearly sighed in relief.

CJ shrugged, grinning down at you. “Seth’s not wrong.”

Your eyes widened before you turned back to the guy. “Oh, so you’re Seth.”

Seth beamed. “Aww, CJ, you told her about me? I just knew we had something special,” he joked.

You frowned. “Hey now. Go get your own CJ. This one’s mine.” You winked up at CJ who laughed.

He let go of your hand to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you into him. “Definitely yours,” he whispered huskily.

Seth pretended to gag. “Ugh. Young love. Gross. You can have him, Y/N.”

“Damn right I do,” you laughed as CJ wrapped himself around you from behind and leaned down to kiss your cheek.

From that moment on, it wasn’t so bad. CJ circulated around the room to different groups, introducing you each time. With him by your side, you began to feel more comfortable and you opened up bit by bit. At one point, CJ took your hand and led you away. “I want to show you something.”

“Again?” You teased. “Didn’t you already show me something back in my dorm earlier? Twice?”

“Ha ha. No, this is something different. Though there will definitely be a third time when I get you out of here and back to my place.”

“Ooo. You sure know how to sweet talk a girl, Mr. Braxton.”

He smirked, wiggling his eyebrows playfully, and pulled you into a kiss that left you breathless. “Just a small preview for later.”

“A small preview?” You panted. You just loved teasing him and couldn’t resist.

He rolled his eyes in amusement. “Come on.”

CJ led you over to a desk and with his free hand, he swiped confetti off of the seat. “This is it. My station,” he told you.

Your eyes roamed over the computer, the keyboard, the notepad and pens, stopping on the corded phone. So this was it. This was where CJ had sat on those Friday nights during your conversations. You smiled to yourself at the memory.

You let out a squeal when CJ quickly sat down in the chair and pulled you into his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck to keep from falling, glaring at his laugh. You softened though when you looked back over the desk. “So this is where you sat on those nights we talked?”

“Uh huh. Though I much prefer you here on this end with me.” He gripped your chin between his fingers and turned you to him, kissing you sweetly. You snuck your fingers into his hair and tilted your head to deepen it, not caring right then about anyone or anything else around you.

You and CJ had been dating for a while now and it was starting to become serious. He had met your parents when they came to visit. Your dad had liked him right away. Your mom, on the other hand, had given him a bit of a hard time but underneath the harsh exterior she was presenting, you could tell she liked him, too. He had initially planned to transfer to a school in New York, which you more than supported (though you were secretly heartbroken). You reminded him that you had done the phone thing once upon a time and you could do it again, if he wanted. After contemplating it, he decided to stay in Boston.

“Please don’t tell me you chose to stay because of me. I’m not going anywhere. If it’s a great opportunity for you, you should go. I don’t want you to regret not going.”

He’d simply smiled. “I have a great opportunity right here and I would regret leaving.” He’d kissed your nose. “Besides, Boston’s home.”

“CJ, you should go. I’m almost done and I can come visit you. It’s only a few hours’ drive. You could show me things like the Empire State Building or take me to a museum or a play or show me Times Square.” You’d tried to make it sound enticing but inside it was killing you. Everyone knew long distance relationships had their problems and who knew? Maybe he might meet someone new in the Big Apple. But you also wanted him to do what was right for him, just like you’d spoken with your therapist about. You didn’t want him to resent you later on if he didn’t take this opportunity now and you certainly didn’t want him to have any regrets. “We could even visit Jen and Jack, see how her Grams is doing.”

Jen and Jack had transferred to New York. You had been worried to tell her that you and CJ were dating but while she was a little miffed in the beginning, she was more focused on the developing situation with her grandmother who had been diagnosed with cancer. Eventually, she forgave you before she left and gave you her blessing. You had been relieved; Jen was a good person, a good friend, and you didn’t want to lose her friendship. Jack had been worried about Jen’s reaction but for the most part, he had been fine with it. David was happy for you both. Audrey was doing better these days and though she had wanted to know what the hell you were thinking by shacking up with The Sleaze (as she referred to him), she had eventually told you she loved you and just wanted you to be happy. Joey asked you if you were sure when you told her and when you assured her that you were, she pretty much said the same thing as her former roommate and gave you a hug. She gave you a look when you pulled away and you knew that she had connected the dots on who you really were to CJ, but to her credit, she mercifully never said anything. Pacey and Emma had shrugged (CJ had apologized to Pacey at some point after what happened with Audrey and they had resolved things), wishing you well. Dawson…well, you never really got to know Dawson all that well during his brief visits so no conversation needed to be had there really. All in all, your friends were supportive, even if still a little wary of how things were going to work out. You were happy, though. It was strange but shifting from friends into romance proved to be an easier transition then you thought it would be.

CJ laid his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes, as he stroked your cheek with his thumb. “I’m not going without you.” You went to speak, to remind him you weren’t going anywhere, when he cut you off. “I know what I want. I’m okay with my decision. I need you to be, too.”

You tenderly stroked his arm. “Are you sure?” You whispered, worried he was making a mistake.

“More than sure.” He then pulled you to him for a kiss.

“Okay,” you whispered to his lips before kissing him again.

And now you had met all of his co-workers at The Stand and had seen where he worked a few days out of the week. He had offered to bring you several times before, but you had been hesitant to take him up on it, still worried someone might figure out who you really were. It’s not that you were embarrassed that you had called the helpline for help, but your business was your business and you didn’t want to be seen as that girl CJ got himself through the service. You both obviously knew that wasn’t the case but people talked, people judged, and you just wanted to steer clear of both as long as you possibly could. You knew you shouldn’t care what anyone thought or said, just like CJ didn’t; it was something you were currently working on in therapy.

“So,” you teased when he finally broke away for air. “Is there a switchboard somewhere that you have somebody directing all the girls to you when they call? Is that how I got you every single time I called?”

He grinned. “Not exactly. I told everybody that any calls that came in on Fridays at 7:00 were mine.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“Well, how did you know I would call every single time?” You huffed out. “How do you know I might not have gotten held up? Or made plans at the last second? Or got fed up with you?”

He gave you a cocky smirk. “Because you liked talking to me. I could tell.”

You playfully swatted at his shoulder, making him laugh, and rolled your eyes. “It always amazes me that you’re able to make it through doorways with that massive ego of yours. That can’t be how you knew I would call you every time.”

His smirk grew and he nodded.

“I hate you,” you mumbled. You didn’t really mean it and he knew you didn’t.

CJ pulled you closer up against him. “You have a weird way of showing that.” He inclined his head towards your embrace around his neck.

“True,” you murmured and kissed him again.

“Plus,” CJ added when you pulled back. “You always said you would call back and I believed you.”

“Better,” you decided. “Though I will begrudgingly admit that I did like talking to you.”

“Like I said, I could—”

“Hush.” You covered his lips with yours and he chuckled into your mouth. When you pulled back this time, you laid your forehead against his, your eyes closed, smiling. “I love you,” you murmured.

“I love you, too” he whispered back to you, lifting up to press a kiss to your brow before you buried your head into his neck and he discreetly snuck his hands under your shirt to rub your back, just the way you liked.

“Want to get out of here?” He asked you after a few minutes had passed.

“Mmm.” You lifted your head to look him in the eye. “No Fleetwood Mac this time, though.”

He laughed and helped you to your feet. “What have you got against one of the greatest bands of all time?”

“Nothing. It’s just weird to listen to that chorus when we’re about to…you know.” You could feel your cheeks starting to warm.

He grinned salaciously at you. “Oh, I know. Hey, at least it’s not the Star Wars theme.” He snickered at your glare and picked up your hand, kissing it. “No Fleetwood Mac tonight. Got it.” He intertwined your fingers and his grin softened into an affectionate smile before he led you out of there. You quickly made your goodbyes and hurried back to his place where he kept his promise of no rock group music track playing along to your own soundtrack.

Later, as CJ slept, you repeatedly ran your fingers through his messy hair in soothing strokes as you studied him. Who knew calling the helpline that one Friday night would lead you here? Where you were happy, in love, and doing much better than you ever thought possible? You had gone from feeling overwhelmed by your education to feeling a different type of overwhelmed together. Overwhelming love and affection for the special person in your life; overwhelming gratitude for the progress you’d been able to make in managing your anxiety and panic attacks as best you could; and overwhelming contentment with every single moment, no matter the ups and downs that was best known as life. Regardless of whatever happened from here, you knew you’d be okay and you’d handle whatever was thrown your way. Like CJ had once said, one day at a time.

In his sleep, your boyfriend reached out for you and pulled you in closer to him, snuggling into your side and burrowing into your neck, making you smile.

And to think, you almost hadn’t made that call. You laid your head against CJ’s and closed your eyes. You were so glad you did.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

#cj braxton x reader #cj braxton x female reader #cj braxton x y/n #cj braxton fanfiction #i hate you you have a weird way of showing that #thebiggerbear writes

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