#there was a time when I happy when I was Harry Potter

[shanastoryteller]

HAPPY VALENTINES!!!!! Draco and wizarding politics please?

a continuation of 1 2 3

When he opens his office door to see Neville Longbottom sitting in the chair across from his desk, it’s the last straw. “This is harassment.”

Neville turns enough to look at him and offers him a gin. “Little bit, yeah.”

“Little bit?” he repeats incredulously, this time being careful to close his door without slamming it. As long as no one sees Neville leaving, he can claim it was a client meeting. “This is ridiculous and I really expected you of all people to know better. You know good and well this is ridiculous. You were raised the same way I was, you could give him at least a decent start. There’s no reason at all to get me involved in this.”

He collapses into his chair and almost misses the bitter twist to Neville’s mouth. “Not exactly. I’m the family disappointment, remember?”

“You’re a war hero,” he objects.

“Well, that wasn’t until later,” he says. “The point is that I was never raised to take my grandmother’s place, and I haven’t, so good on that. My cousin’s doing a fine job of it anyway. I know the basics. I’m no expert.”

“Well, the basics is more than Potter knows, so it’s as good a start as any,” he says. “Weasley and Granger are insane, fine, but I really expected better from you.”

Neville licks his lips and taps his fingers against Draco’s desk and he’s about to kick him out when he says, “Harry doesn’t… trust. Easily.”

“I can’t imagine why,” he says dryly. “Unfortunately, trusting people who haven’t earned it is in fact necessary to get anywhere in the Wizengamot. How else do you think I got where I am?”

He shakes his head, eyes dark and serious and Draco already knows he’s going to hate what he says next. “You did earn it. That’s why Harry trusts you.”

Neville is going to give him hives. “Well, he shouldn’t.”

“Draco, come on,” he says. “You’re really telling me that you don’t know how to twist a public relationship with Harry to your advantage? I don’t believe that. If Harry refuses to learn anything from you, well, whatever, you’ll still come up on top, right? Why are you fighting so hard against this?”

He wouldn’t dare say this to Granger or Weasley, but he thinks Neville might be actually able to keep his mouth shut. “Potter’s distaste for being used by anyone is part of the reason his politics won’t get anywhere. I’m not saying I don’t get it, considering, but why would being used by me be any different?”

“He trusts you,” Neville repeats. “That’s the difference.”

Merlin.

Gryffindors.

[marauder-misprint]

Here I am again, my favorite Harry Potter fandom writer :)

I saw something on TikTok, but I lost it because the page was refreshed before I could watch the end and see the creator of the video. But it gave me an idea:

Severus Snape's daughter x Marauders (which you know my preference is always Sirius 😘)

Severus doesn't have much love for his child since Lily is not her mother, but as a father who is aware of his own family history, he makes sure that his daughter lives a relatively happy life in good conditions. She will probably have a natural talent for potions and defense against the dark arts.

In this case, I honestly didn't think how to connect her to Sirius, there would probably be an age difference problem… ah but I want to hope that my favorite author can do something about impossible love 💕❤️😍

Cora! ❤︎ This did become an age-gap fic (approx. 16 years between reader and Sirius). I spent so much time on HP wiki trying to figure out canon birth years. I set it in OotP with a post-Azkaban Sirius.

Hopefully this works for impossible love ❤︎ I mean, Sirius is always gonna hate Severus but that doesn't mean Sirius can't love his daughter!

Snape Spawn

Sirius Black x Snape!reader

6.7k words

cw: age gap!, Y/N, pining?, snog, fluff if you squint

In the aftermath of losing Lily for calling her a mudblood, Severus became a pathetic mess. He lived more and more inside of his head just to survive. When he went home for the summer, he didn’t have the respite of Lily’s company when his parents became too much. To put it shortly and concisely, he found comfort in some girl’s arms, a girl also tempted by Voldemort’s preaching. 

When he returned to Hogwarts in the fall, she wrote to him. He was going to be a father. 

The girl didn’t survive much past your birth. Your grandparents took care of you for a few years, until they reached an age where they were unfit to do so. They returned you to Severus, being that he was now of age and able to fulfil his role of father. 

He did so, although not gratefully. 

You were raised in a tolerable home. Severus knew he couldn’t bring up a child in a home similar to the one he was raised in, so he did his best to ensure that you were happy. He found himself wishing you were the offspring of Lily, rather than some girl who would’ve joined the ranks of Voldemort. He kept you in the dark when he did join the Death Eaters. You were to be protected. 

When Voldemort fell and Severus became a double agent, you were still unaware of everything. He took a job at Hogwarts as the Potions master, per Dumbledore’s request. You were watched over by a couple in Hogsmeade while he worked. 

When you came of age, you attended Hogwarts, being sorted into Slytherin. Some people immediately questioned if Severus was fair when grading your assignments for his class; you had only received O’s from him. Despite your high grades across the board, next highest being Defense Against the Dark Arts, there was enough suspicion for Dumbledore to step in. When the headmaster deemed that your work was exceptional and far above the rest of your peers, the concerns settled down.

Your expertise in potion making rivaled that of your fathers, as did your passion for it. You made plenty of extra potions in your spare time. You had a complete collection of potions in your dorm. You would sell some for non-academic purposes, the most popular being various healing potions. You also supplied the veritaserum for Truth or Dares at parties. Despite being the daughter of the least-liked professor at Hogwarts, you were fairly well liked. 

After you graduated, you opened an Apothecary in Diagon Alley. You and Severus spoke less and less. As he saw it, you were no longer his responsibility. And really, you weren’t. You didn’t reach out to him. Just the occasional letter to him at Christmas and his birthday and you received a letter on yours. 

Then you got a letter from Severus that confused you. It said ‘Happy Birthday’ but your birthday had passed and you had already received your annual letter. There was something else off about the letter: several words were misspelled. Out of curiosity, you wrote down the correct letters and it spelled out a potion. It was one you always had in stock, although it was particularly difficult to brew. You knew it was a long shot and probably wouldn’t do anything, but you took the potion and poured it over the letter. 

A short message appeared at the bottom. 

Danger lies ahead. Meet me.

And then an address appeared with instructions. 

You were quite confused when you arrived at 12 Grimmauld Place. You followed the directions left for you. You were even more confused when after you knocked on the door, you heard screaming from inside and then Remus Lupin opened the door.

“Erm, Professor?” you asked.

He stepped aside and let you in.

“Snape, she’s here!” he yelled down the hallway and then up the stairs, “Someone shut that portrait up!” 

“Y/N,” Severus said, standing in the doorway at the end of the hallway. “You came.”

You held out the letter before saying deadpan, “It’s not my birthday.” 

You looked past your father into a kitchen filled with people. Most of them were adults older than you, closer to your father’s age and older. Nymphandora Tonks was probably the person closest to your age. You looked back at Severus.

“What is this? What danger-?” you started to ask.

“Bring the girl in, we’ll fill her in with the door shut, please,” a firm, female voice said from within the kitchen.

Severus turned and you followed him into the kitchen, along with Remus. You recognized Molly and Arthur Weasley from graduation. You were in the same year as Percy, who was absent. The only other people you recognized were McGonagall and Mad-Eye Moody, from his picture in the paper. 

You took a seat at the table and crossed your arms. You were waiting for an answer.

“So this is your spawn, Snivelly?” a smooth voice said from the end of the table that had been out of view from the door.

You turned your head to see Remus sit down next to Sirius Black. He looked more sane and put together than he did in all of his mug shots that littered the Daily Prophet two years ago. 

“Merlin, when did you sire her? She’s older than Harry,” Sirius continued, eyeing you up and down. 

It only made you narrow your eyes at him. The arrogance that he emanated didn’t sit well with you. You had a feeling that you weren’t going to like him, no matter how handsome you were beginning to think he was. 

“None of your business,” Severus snarled, taking the seat next to you and putting himself between you and Sirius. 

“She’s of age. Otherwise she wouldn’t be here and we wouldn’t be about to tell her about the Order,” Remus said. 

The way that Remus looked at Sirius told you that Sirius would be filled in on you later. Remus had been one of your favorite professors at Hogwarts. It certainly helped that he taught your favorite subject and did a much better job at it than Lockhart did. Severus had warned you the moment Remus was hired that he was a werewolf. He had made you promise to remain in your dorm during full moons. Even with his Wolfsbane potion, Severus wanted Remus nowhere near you. 

“The Order? Is someone going to explain? I had to close up shop early,” you said as you looked around the table. 

“The Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore founded it when You-Know-Who first rose to power. And now that he’s back…” Arthur said. “Arthur Weasley, by the way.”

“So he is… he is back?” you asked, looking at your father for confirmation. 

He nodded.

“We fought him once and we’ll fight him again,” Moody said gruffly. 

You folded your hands in front of you. You swallowed thickly, once again looking from person to person around the room. 

“Where do I come into this?” you asked quietly.

“They want you to join,” Severus said. “They assumed you’d want to fight. Particularly, Lupin.”

You leaned forward to get a clear look at Remus and cocked an eyebrow when you made eye contact. 

“You’re a talented witch, Y/N. You’ll want to be on the right side of this,” Remus said. 

You thought about the idea of fighting. If Voldemort really was back, you knew there would be another war brewing and which side you would support. 

“How do I help? What do I need to do?” 

“Told you she’d agree,” Remus told Severus, a smirk appearing on his face. 

Mad-Eye and Arthur went into a deeper discussion about what the Order did, how secretive they needed to be, how they would communicate with you. Remus added a random comment here and there. You nodded as you listened intently. You gave Severus the occasional glance but he sat with a stoney expression. Beyond him, Sirius watched you with an amused look that you didn’t like. In your opinion, this meeting of the Order was no place for an expression like that. 

After the delegation of assignments and missions, Molly looked at you and said, “You’re welcome to stay for dinner if you’d like.”

“Oh, um, I don’t know…”

Severus put his hand on your shoulder, grabbing your attention.

“I’ll see you at the next meeting,” he said before disappearing out of the kitchen.

You briefly turned your head to watch him leave. You chuckled to yourself. Typical. 

“Meeting’s over?” Hermione asked, entering the kitchen. 

“Mum, what is for dinner?” Ron added, following her.

You and Molly moved to the side to allow for the new people entering and the members leaving. Then two pops could be heard from the hallway before Fred and George came in. Their eyes locked in on you. 

“Snape! Long time!” George called, wearing a grin that matched his twin’s. 

“Weasley one and two. How’d you two survive last year without me?” 

“Dreadful. Had to find a new way into the Slytherin Common Room,” Fred answered. “Are you staying for dinner?” 

“I guess I am now. Didn’t know you were here.” 

“Wow, we rank that high?” Fred asked, giving you a wink and earning an eye roll from you.

“You rank because you funded the first few months of my shop’s rent,” you deadpanned before breaking into a smile. “And I want to know why you needed so many wiggenwelds.”

As the people in the kitchen shifted, you found yourself sat at the table again. This time, as you sat across from the twins with Tonks to your left, you felt older, less like the child in the room. Arthur, Molly, Remus and Sirius were the only other members of the Order who remained. 

You turned to Tonks and muttered, “I thought this was going to be more of a… Order meal.”

She shook her head and gave Molly a weary glance. You both knew you weren’t supposed to talk about Order stuff around the younger kids, but you thought it was safe enough. 

“Not many stay. Molly invites them every time.” 

Then the twins took over your attention. They told you about what they got up to your last year at Hogwarts when they bought healing potion after healing potion from you. They recounted the Triward Tournament and everything that happened last year. At one point, you explained to Tonks how you let the twins into the Slytherin Common Room on several occasions so that they could prank some of your more foul housemates.

Sirius wouldn’t admit it, but he was listening intently to your conversation and stealing momentary glances of you. 

Some time after you left and everyone had dispersed throughout the house, Remus sat with Sirius in the drawing room. 

“When did you find out Snivellus had a kid?” Sirius asked.

“When her name appeared on my roster.”

“You taught her? And you didn’t tell me?”

“I hadn’t seen you in twelve years, Padfoot. It didn’t seem important. Why do you care so much?”

Sirius didn’t answer. He didn’t know why your existence was so intriguing to him. Maybe it was the shock that Severus had actually managed to be intimate with someone. Sirius had watched you all through the meeting and then practically all dinner. Seeing you interact with Tonks and the twins, and everyone really, made it clear that you were a much different person than Severus. 

“You said she’d want to join. What made you think that?” 

“You remember how Severus was in school, with the dark arts?” Remus asked. “She had that same intense interest, except in Defense. Wasn’t a better student in her year. I was shocked when I heard she wasn’t going for an Auror position.”

“Didn’t she say something about a shop?”

Remus nodded. “Follows Snivy in that sense. Runs an apothecary in Diagon Alley.”

“I’m still not over that Snivellus has a kid…” Sirius muttered with a sigh. 

---

Over the next few weeks, you met more and more of the Order’s members. Each meeting was a different combination of people. Molly, Arthur, Remus and Sirius were the only consistents. The Weasleys were fine, as was Remus. He insisted that you call him by his name, being that he was no longer a professor and you were no longer a student. It took time.

And then there was Sirius. This handsome man who looked at you with ever-changing expressions. One day he would be intrigued by you and the next he would be disgusted. You exchanged very few words with him. He was always on the other side of the room. And yet, your eyes often locked with his. 

“Remus, we need you to come with us,” Molly called from the door. “Y/N, can you stay? We’ll need healing potions when we get back.”

“Erm, yeah. Yeah, I can stay. Is there-” you started to ask.

“Potions station? Upstairs. Have Sirius show you,” Remus said before following Molly and Arthur out of the house. 

Once the door closed, you sighed. You hadn’t been on a mission yet, and you knew it was because of how young you were. It was a bit frustrating. You were of age. They asked you to be a part of the order. And here you were, staying behind to be a potioneer. Yes, you were good at it, but you were also exceptional at dueling. Remus had told you that before. 

You looked around for Sirius. He wasn’t in the kitchen or anywhere on the main floor. You checked the various rooms as you ascended the stairs. You asked the Weasleys and Hermione if they’d seen him and all you got were shrugs in response. Great. 

Then, with a sigh because it was so obvious, you knocked on his bedroom’s door. 

“What?” his voice bellowed from inside.

“Sirius, I, erm, I need a potion station? Profess-, ahem, Remus said to ask you for it,” you said loudly to ensure your voice carried through the closed door.

There was a moment of silence before the sounds of him grumbling and getting up before he opened the door. He was more casually dressed than you had ever seen him. You were caught off guard by how effortlessly handsome he was.

“Wait in the drawing room. I’ll bring it down.” 

You nodded. Sirius turned to go higher up the stairs and you went the opposite direction. You paced around the drawing room while you waited for him to return. You set up your travel package of potion ingredients. You knew that the Order had some stock, but something told you that your personal stock would be of higher quality and you preferred it when you knew where each ingredient came from. The sources could really affect the effectiveness of a potion. 

You jumped when the potion station clanked through the door, followed by a string of swears from Sirius. 

“Sorry, just this damn thing…”

You looked at it with a subtle gasp.

“Merlin, that’s ancient.”

Once it was in the room, you took over levitating it toward the middle of the room so you would have plenty of room to maneuver around it. 

“Well, it was my parents so…” Sirius’ voice trailed off, his eyes studying your every move. “Can’t say how much it actually got used around here.”

“I keep forgetting this is your parents’ place. Must be strange to have it turned into headquarters when you grew up here.” 

You started a fire and immediately went into work mode, starting a large batch of classic wiggenwelds. Sirius unceremoniously fell into a rickety armchair before getting comfortable. Surely watching you work would be more entertaining than staring at the ceiling in his room. 

“Strange doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

Without looking up from the cauldron, you asked, “How would you describe it then?” 

“Horrible,” he said quickly. He didn’t even pause to think about it. “It’s a prison. It was when I was growing up here and it still is. Different kinds of torture, but it boils down to the same pain.” 

You glanced at him through your eyelashes, only briefly as to keep the majority of your attention on the potion that was beginning to simmer. He looked utterly at ease in the chair.

“They say we can’t risk you getting captured. Dementor’s kiss and all.”

Sirius chucked. “They say… Like staying here isn’t sucking my soul out all the same.”

“It’s not exactly… cheerful.”

“My damned house elf was never a good housekeeper. Nor was my mother an interior designer. Parents took too much pride in their family heirlooms to consider taste.” 

You hummed. “I take it you think you have taste, then?”

“Oh, I know I do. I mean, don’t take my room here for example. If you could see my room at the Potter Manor?” He shook his head with a sigh. “And I had barely settled after moving out when… when it all happened.”

You sat back on your heels, turning a muggle cooking timer you had in your pack. The potion needed to sit for some time.

“Do you want to talk about those years? Or should we change the subject?” you asked, placing some of your tools back into their case.

He barked a laugh and tilted his head back against the chair’s fraying material. 

“Change the subject. There’s not much to say about sitting in a cell and rotting for twelve years.”

“Says the only man to escape Azkaban.”

“Different subject, darling.”

“Okay, okay. Can I ask why it feels like you’re always staring at me during meetings?” 

“Easy. Because I am.”

The casualness in his answer took you by surprise. Who admits to staring at a person? 

“Why?”

“You’re Snivy’s kid,” Sirius said like it was an obvious answer, but it made you frown.

“I take it you and my dad didn’t get along.” 

“I wouldn’t say we were friends, no. But the feeling was mutual.” 

“So Severus is my dad. Why does that make you stare?” you asked, standing up and crossing your arms over your chest. This time, it was you studying him, taking in every detail of his features. 

Under your intense gaze, SIrius sat up in the chair and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

“Trying to figure out how much like him you are.”

You hummed. “I’m sure someone told you it doesn’t matter if you like dad or me. There’s a bigger problem at hand that doesn’t require us to be friends.” 

Sirius flexed his eyebrows in mild annoyance.

“It’s not friendship I’m looking for from you,” he said, sounding irritated that he had to explain this. “Can I trust you? Can we trust you?”

You scoffed and took a step backwards. 

“Why wouldn’t you be able to trust me?”

“Because I don’t trust your father. I don’t care if Dumbledore does. I don’t care he claims to be a changed man. Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater.”

Suddenly, your expression changed into complete shock and disbelief. It hit Sirius that perhaps you didn’t know of your father’s history and the mark he bore on his left arm. 

“Oh, you didn’t know…”

“Dad was… is… was…” you stuttered. “No… He-he can’t… What?” 

“I’m sorry, I wouldn’t’ve said anything if I knew you didn’t know…”

“No,” you said, holding up a hand to silence Sirius. “I’m glad you told me. You really would think I would know that about my own father… Merlin…” 

Sirius stood up and took exactly one step toward you. Then your timer went off. The cauldron captured all of your attention again. You removed it from the fire, stirred it and added the final ingredients. Sirius didn’t sit back down. He was too distracted with how you turned off your emotions to deal with the potion. It was like you suddenly didn’t care that a portion of your father’s identity had been hidden from you for your entire life because you had a duty, a duty to be prepared when the members of the Order returned. 

“Sirius,” you said after a few minutes. “Thank you for telling me about my father.”

“They’re back!” Ginny yelled from downstairs.

“Great, help me take this down to the kitchen?” you asked, gesturing to the cauldron. 

“Yeah, I’ll bring it. You go ahead, assess the damage done.”

You chuckled softly. “I’m no healer. Just a potioneer.” 

---

Slowly, you started talking to Sirius before and after meetings. The ones Severus attended, you avoided his eye. You had never questioned some things before, and now you were. The more you thought on your childhood, things that previously seemed odd made sense, given Sirius’ revelation. 

Severus wasn’t oblivious to your sudden coldness to him. He cornered you after one of the meetings. 

“Are you feeling alright?” he asked.

“What?” you replied, barely able to bring yourself to look at him. 

“You’re avoiding me,” Severus said plainly. “It’s unlike you.” 

You shrugged before crossing your arms. 

“So what if I am? You’re not who I thought you were.”

“I’m your father,” he hissed, leaning forward like he was trying to assert his dominance over you. 

You kept your head held high. “Roll up your sleeves then, Father.”

Severus stood up straighter, taking a step backwards. He glanced around the room. Then he grabbed your arm and pulled you out of the kitchen.

“Come with me,” he snarled, dragging you up the stairs until you reached the drawing room. He closed the door behind you and casted a muffling charm. “Who told you?”

“Doesn’t matter. It should have been you.”

“It does matter, Y/N.”

You scoff, turning away from him. You didn’t see why it mattered who told you, just that it hadn’t been him. You knew now and you didn’t know how you could trust your father. You agreed with Sirius on that point; it didn’t matter if Dumbledore trusted him. You decided that your father had to re-earn your trust. You were his daughter, his own flesh and blood. How come he wasn't the one who told you?

“You made yourself a liability,” he said.

“Oh no, what’s going to happen? I can’t go on missions? Oh, wait, I haven’t been on one.”

“You’re starting to sound like… Merlin…” Severus said.

Severus stormed out of the room and practically flew down the stairs. Even from upstairs, you could hear his threats.

“Are you trying to turn her against me? Do you ever think about your actions?”

“I didn’t know Y/N didn’t know!” Sirius’ voice replied, carrying as much anger as your father’s did. “She deserved to know.” 

“Severus! Sirius!” Molly yelled. 

You could imagine what the kitchen looked like. Severus at Sirius’ throat. Despite the anger in his voice, Sirius would maintain an even expression, or it would be masked with a casual grin. Molly was certainly trying to get in between them. 

“Molly, don’t you agree that Y/N should know of past alliances?” Sirius asked.

“Y/N, maybe. The rest of the house? No.”

You rolled your eyes as you left the drawing room and went down the stairs. You slipped out the front door before you could overhear any more of the argument. Something flipped in you and you didn’t feel like seeing Severus or Sirius in the aftermath of that meeting. You also didn’t want to talk to Molly and explain your part in it. You knew you wouldn’t be able to avoid it forever; there would be more Order meetings. But that wouldn’t be for a week, and people would be able to settle down. 

The next week, you arrived early. You’re not sure why, but it felt like the thing to do. The Advance Guard was gathering. You weren’t a part of it, surprise surprise. You knew that Severus wouldn’t be, but he would arrive as close to meeting time as he could. Sirius would be around. 

“Y/N, you’re not needed until later,” Remus said as you walked through the door and hung up your coat.

“I know,” you said casually. “But I can have tea in my flat, alone, or I can have tea here.” 

You walked past the guard, which proved more difficult than it should have been as they stood in the narrow hallway. There was no one in the kitchen, which you found odd. It was usually the life of the house, especially before meetings. You knew the kids liked to linger in attempts to be overlooked so they could attend a meeting. Molly always spotted them and kicked them out. ‘Members only,’ she’d say to their protests as they declared that they’d like to join. 

You put a kettle on and milled around, looking for the various things you need. Cup, tea leaves, sugar. Maybe a biscuit if they had some. You find everything you need just as the kettle whistles, and then you settle at the table. 

It doesn’t take long before Sirius enters the kitchen, smiling when he sees you. He took the seat next to you. After a minute, he reached over to grab your cup and took a sip of your tea. He made a face as he placed it back in front of you.

“Got enough sugar in there?”

“Not a fan of this blend,” you deadpanned, which was a partial truth. You also just liked your tea on the sweeter side. “You excited to see Harry?” 

Sirius tensed slightly but then he nodded.

“Yes. I wish he could’ve come sooner or we could’ve written him any kind of information…” He gave you a soft look. “It’s not like with you. He doesn’t have the ability to solve a riddle and brew up some potion to counteract a cursed piece of parchment. Bloody muggles he lives with…”

“I’ve heard stories,” you muttered. “They put bars on his windows at some point.”

Sirius’ eyes widened at that.

“They did what?”

“The muggles, um, Fred and George said they rescued him from some horrible situation a few years back. You’d have to ask them ‘bout it.”

Sirius nodded and the two of you fell into a mostly comfortable silence. Slowly, other members of the Order started to fill the kitchen and the seats at the table. The murmur of small talk broke up the silence. Then there was a commotion by the front door – Harry had arrived. 

You remained seated as Molly and Sirius went to greet him and the Advance Guard. You made brief eye contact with Harry before he was ushered upstairs and Molly closed the kitchen door so the meeting could start. Sirius sat down next to you, but the air around him was changed. 

You stayed for dinner again. In exchanging Order Members for the non-members, Sirius got up and sat down next to Remus. The spots on either side of you were filled by Fred and George. You sunk into your seat as Harry asked question after question about the Order as Sirius encouraged him and Molly shut him down. It was tense. You just wanted a warm home cooked meal, not an argument if the Harry Potter should be allowed into the Order and who was his family. 

The meal took far too long in your opinion. You barely took the time to say goodbye before hurrying out the door and making your way back to your flat. You sighed in the darkness. You didn’t bother turning on the lights, not needing it to cross the small distance to your room. The emptiness of your flat reminded you that you liked the solitude of it. It wasn't busy or filled with raging arguments. It was calm. It was quiet. It was you. 

The next few meetings, Sirius didn’t sit near you. He didn’t bother to say hello or bye. You practically glued yourself to Tonks, given she was the only person in the room who currently didn’t make you feel like a child. Yes, you were the baby of the group, but you didn’t need to feel like that. It didn’t help that you still hadn’t been chosen to go on a mission. Your main and only task was to stay behind and prepare potions in case the worst happens on the mission. 

“I’m not a healer,” you reminded everyone time and time again, only to be dismissed. 

You started leaving Grimmauld Place in a huff more often than not. Then you heard about the group selected to accompany Harry to King’s Cross. You didn’t even bother showing up to headquarters on September 1. No one was going to attack the boy at the train station, and you knew there would be no need for potions when the Order members returned. You’d hear about how Sirius tagged along in his animagus form during the next meeting. Great. Even Sirius technically got to go on a mission. 

Your attitude toward the Order was worsening. You knew that it was the side to be on. You knew you signed up for this, but it really wasn’t living up to any expectations that you had. Then, Remus approached you with a desperate request. You couldn’t turn him down. 

Sirius sat watching you as you worked on preparing the Wolfsbane potion. Remus was running out and Severus claimed to be too busy to brew it. You could’ve brewed it at your shop but something drew you to headquarters. So you sat in the drawing room with the ancient brewing station, a wide variety of ingredients and a potions book. You could feel Sirius’ eyes on you, taking in every motion. 

“Do you need something?” you asked, an air of impatience to your voice. 

Sirius doesn’t respond right away. He had been in his thoughts thinking about how when Severus was that intensely focused on a potion, Sirius would’ve made fun of him for it, but when it was you, it was fascinating and beautiful. 

“No,” Sirius said firmly.

You spared him a glance. It barely lasted a second. Sirius made no effort to pretend that he wasn’t staring at you. You sighed. You weren’t a huge fan of having someone watch your every move while you brewed a potion. You were no longer in school; you didn’t need supervision.

“If you don’t need anything, why are you in here?” 

“It’s my house,” he replied flatly. 

“Look,” you said, standing up and brushing yourself off before slowly walking over to him. “I know you and my father don’t get along. But I’m brewing that-” You gestured back toward the cauldron. “For Remus, who is your friend. And I really don’t need any distract-”

You were cut off by Sirius’ lips pressing onto yours as he leaned upward. You hadn’t realized you were standing close enough to his chair for him to do that. You took a shocked step backwards. Sirius stood up with a smirk on his face.

“Thanks, on behalf of Remus. I’ll leave you to finish that. Uninterrupted. And if you need me, I’ll be in my room.”

No distractions. That is what you had been asking of Sirius and instead, he gave you one of the biggest distractions that he could. You watched him leave the room and then tried to regain your focus. You had a task at hand. A rather important one, if you asked anyone who knew of Remus’ condition. The liquid started to bubble and you swore, hurrying to stir in the next ingredient. 

Your mind kept drifting back to Sirius and the fact that he kissed you. And then left? Well, you had been in the middle of asking him to leave, but still. You don’t kiss someone and leave. Not like that.

You finished brewing the Wolfsbane and poured it into a collection of vials. You took your time cleaning up, debating what you wanted to do. You were still debating it as you went to find Remus and give him the vials. The upcoming full moon was already taking effect on him. He looked more tired and weak than usual. You knew the potion helped but it was still a far cry from a cure-all. 

Then you found the door that said ‘Sirius Orion Black’ on it. You stood outside it for at least a full minute before raising your hand to knock on it. But you didn’t knock. Not right away. You let your hand fall. Then you raised it again, and let it fall. On the third try, because third time’s the charm, you knocked. You could hear movement from inside the room and then he opened the door. 

Sirius watched you with curious eyes as you walked into his room. He closed the door behind you. You scanned the room, scoffing at the posters of motorbikes and girls in bikinis.

“Classy,” you said. “This is the taste that your parents didn’t have?”

“If I recall, I said to not count my room here. I put all this up when I was like 13? 14? Give or take. And permanent sticking charms are more powerful than most people give them credit for.”

“Ah, that’d be the lack of understanding for the word permanent.”

Sirius chuckled at that and leaned against his desk. Once again, he was watching your every move. He couldn’t help the smirk that pulled at his lips as you cautiously sat down on his bed. You were still taking in the time capsule of Sirius’ childhood when you spoke.

“So, um, what was that? Downstairs.” You knew you sounded confused, unsure of how you felt about it.

“When you said that I don’t get along with your… with Severus,” he started, saying your father’s name with a moderate level of disgust, “you weren’t wrong. Apparently, I have strong emotions for Snapes. For him, it’s… ahem, not good. But you?” He took a breath and shook his head. “I can’t get you out of my head. At first I thought it was because you’re his kid. But it’s not that. It’s… Merlin, you’re something else, you know?” 

You just stare at him. You didn’t quite understand what he was saying. This time it was your turn to watch him as he stood up from leaning against his desk and made his way toward you. He stood in front of you for a moment, running a gentle finger along your jaw from your ear down to your chin. 

As he sat next to you, he added, “And I tried to stop what I feel for you. Bury it deep. But, fuck, Y/N, you’re irresistable…”

“So August was…”

“That was me telling myself this would never work. You’re a Snape. There’s no way you could want me like I want you.”

You wanted to laugh. Sirius was devilishly handsome and you found he was easy to get along with. You liked how he didn’t treat you like a child and understood why you felt less than in the Order, since you were both consistently left behind. 

“What made you… change your mind?” you asked, turning so your body was angled toward him.

“I may be very much reading into it, but I don’t think so since you’re here now. But you brewed Remus’ potion here rather than your little apothecary shop. Thought that it might be because I’m here. And then you were about to call me a distraction.”

This time you did laugh.

“Cocky much? Assuming a distraction is a good thing?” 

He leaned in so his face was only centimeters from yours. “Is it?”

You hated how your breath caught in your throat. You hated how Sirius obviously noticed with his smirk growing into a wide grin. He leaned in more. His lips weren’t quite touching yours but you swore you could feel them move as he spoke.

“It is, isn’t it?”

“Just kiss me again, Black,” you breathed.

That was all he needed to press his lips to yours again. You didn’t pull back this time. You leaned into him, kissing back with passion you hadn’t felt in years. Sirius had one hand cupping your face and the other holding onto your waist, holding your body in place. The voice in his head kept saying that any moment now you’d remember that Sirius is the same age as your father and it would disgust you. You kept proving the voice wrong with each passing second. 

Soon enough you were no longer sitting on Sirius’ bed. You straddled him, pressing your body against his. Both his hands were traveling your body, feeling the softness of your skin under your shirt. You simply had an arm around his neck and a hand in his hair. 

You felt like you had fire in your veins as Sirius’ lips left yours but kept pressing wet kisses to your skin. He moved to your jaw and down your neck until he found the sweet spot near your collarbone.

A firm knock on his door froze the both of you where you sat practically intertwined. 

“Padfoot, I’m going for takeaway. Want anything?” Remus called through the door. 

You pressed your mouth against Sirius’ shoulder to prevent yourself from giggling. There was something so utterly teenage about almost getting caught snogging. You and Sirius were both adults, but being walked in on by Remus would still have felt mortifying.

“Nah, mate, I’m good,” Sirius yelled back. His hands were still holding your side and back under your shirt. 

“Alright.” There was a pause. “Did little Snape leave? I didn’t hear the door.” 

You pulled back from Sirius’ shoulder with wide eyes. You didn’t know what you wanted him to stay. If Sirius said you were still here, Remus would probably ask if you wanted anything or where you were since you clearly weren’t anywhere else in the house. If he said you were gone and Remus decided to come in for some reason, Sirius would have to explain why he lied. Well, it would be obvious why he lied, but still. You figured it would be better if Sirius said you were gone and then you could sneak out while Remus was gone. 

“She’s quiet, that one. Mum would’ve liked her,” Sirius replied and you nodded approvingly. 

“Right. Okay. I’ll be back.” 

You and Sirius sat silently. You listened to Remus descend the rest of the stairs and leave the house. 

“I’ll have to be gone before he gets back,” you said.

“Or you could stay,” Sirius offered. “Say you forgot something or another.”

You placed a kiss on Sirius’ cheek. “Yeah? And then what?” 

“Then…” Sirius drew out the word as if pondering your question. “You spend the night?”

You let out a dry laugh. “Oh, Sirius, I don’t fuck on the first date.” You patted his cheek gently before removing yourself from his lap. You tried not to look at the tent in his pants, the result of having you. “How about you make me dinner sometime?”

Sirius had frowned when you got up but it was quickly replaced with a smile when you suggested dinner.

“And if I’m no chef?”

You shrugged. “I could pick up takeaway. Or, if you’re really nice, I could make something.” 

Then, realization hit you and you sat back down next to Sirius. 

“If this happens,” you said, gesturing between you and Sirius, “we’ll have to tell my father.”

Sirius’ grin only grew, something wicked flickering in his eyes. “I can’t wait to tell him.”

“That’ll help you mend your past,” you muttered, earning a bark of a laugh from Sirius.

“I think we’re well past being able to mend anything, sweetheart,” he said. “But I can be cordial if it means I can have you.”

You jam a finger into his chest. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. So far all you are is a good snog.”

“A good snog, eh? High reviews.”

“Think you’re open on Friday?” you asked, standing up again and straightening your shirt.

“Let’s see,” Sirius said, mock-pondering. “Tomorrow, Friday, next week, next month… I’m open.”

“Right, sorry.” You gave Sirius a small smile. “Chinese sound good? I’ll pick it up and be over ‘round 7?”

“Sounds lovely.” 

Tag: @bruxa0007

[until-the-house-shakes]

Adding on from this post

Remus and James went through so many lengths to find Barty, Evan, and Pandora to reunite them with Regulus. It was not easy either, because Barty and Evan always move around and change their phone number while Pandora is off the grid seven months out of the year. But after a month of searching they found them and regulus had his friends back.

Regulus cannot sleep by himself. For the first couple weeks he would sleep only with Sirius, but as he got more comfortable he was able to sleep with his other friends and James. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to sleep alone however.

James offers Regulus all his hoodies and sweats (which swallow Regulus) to hide his baby bump because he knows Regulus HATES how he looks.

James’ parents absolutely ADORE Regulus. They spoil him rotten and demand ‘son’ time with him. He gets brunch and tea with Effie, and bakes with Monty. The three of them plus Lily, Remus, and a few of Effie/Monty’s friends are in a book club together. Effie and Monty keep hinting at Regulus giving them the baby but he doesn’t want to burden them with it because of their age. (Effie wants a grand baby so badly so she doesn’t give a shit).

Sirius goes with Regulus for all his appointment. He is the one to ask all the questions and straight up threatens the doctor whenever they accidentally misgenders Regulus.

By month seven, Reg and James are basically dating, but without any label. Regulus is still technically married to tom, but Monty used to be a lawyer, so he knows the best people to help Regulus finalize the divorce. This plus his vast amount of trauma keeps him from feeling comfortable putting a label on him and James, but he always makes it clear he loves James and only James.

Regulus has the worst pregnancy hormones. By month 6th, the entire house is on edge and is so scared of making any wrong move. Once Sirius brought home Chinese take out when Regulus said a few hours earlier he was craving Indian, and Regulus had the worst tantrum. James fixed this by making one of Effie’s recipes by scratch.

 Here is where I am still deciding on different endings.

Regulus keeps the baby

One rule Sirius implemented for Regulus to stay with him was that he had to go to therapy. During his months of therapy, he became more sure of his gender identity and very comfortable with the idea of reclaiming his child and raising his child in a happy, healthy, and loving environment. Plus he will raise this kid with James, and everyone else by his side.

He decided during month 8 he was keeping the kid, so it was very hectic trying to make a nursery, baby proof the house, and prepare everyone for parenthood. Effie and monty were a HUGE help during this month.

James is instantly wrapped around the baby’s finger (as is everyone else) and is so crazy protective of both the baby and Reg since the birth.

Regulus decides to name the baby Harry, because it was a name James always adored, and it was also the name Effie wanted to use if she ever had the opportunity to have another kid. The entire Potter family sobbed when they learned what Regulus was going to name Harry.

After childbirth, regulus suffers from awful dysphoria and postpartum depression. James, Sirius, and Barty never leave Reg’s side. At least one of them are next to Reg at all time and keeps him occupied. Evan and Remus are the ones to keep the house clean, do chores, and keep Reg and the others fed. Pandora and Lily help with child care. (Plus everyone else of course but this is the main ‘what they do to help’)

Effie and Monty already signed themselves up for baby sitting duty. Doesn’t matter when or where. They will be free upon request. 

Sirius and Remus are Harry’s godfathers. They all call him prongslet as well. Evan and Barty call him bug.

Wolfstar adopts the baby

They name the baby Teddy, and call him cub (Remus) and Bud (Sirius)

James is the Godfather while Marlene is the godmother.

It was very weird for Regulus to watch the kid he birthed grow up, not knowing he is his father, but it is still healing in a way.

Regulus ended up moving out of their house right before child birth, and into a small apartment with James, which does help, but still makes him feel a little odd.

He obviously still receives therapy, and sadly still suffers from postpartum depression. Barty and James are watch dogs for him and Evan buys him a cat to help him cope.

It takes Regulus a solid six months to be able to hold Teddy without crying and regretting all his decisions out of impulse.

As Teddy goes up, Regulus is that cool uncle and is super over protective of him.

Give me more ideas!!! Maybe the more i flesh this out the more likely I am to write this lmao

[ohcutevaltersen]

The Hogwarts Gangsey

So I saw Pynch in Hogwarts Fanart and this pin and now I'm doing headcanons of the Gangsey in the HP universe bc why not? (Also, me rewatching HP 7.2 has absolutely nothing to do with this)

Obvious disclaimer but important nevertheless: I DO NOT support JK Rowling in any way, shape, or form. Liking Harry Potter was my only personality trait from ages 12 to 15, tho so I can't really let it go.

This is all over the place, so sorry in advance. Also, I make a lot of Marauders Fandom references, so be prepared to be confused if you don't really interact with that side of the random.

I personally don’t see Gansey in Gryffindor, but we're rolling with it because Maggie said so. Also, Blue is a Slytherin that was nearly sorted into Hufflepuff

instead of being obsessed with dead Welsh kings, Gansey has a thing for horcruxes. Hear me out on this: the whole reason he wanted to find the Glendower was because he died and was brought back to live. Now, let's say Gansey had a similar experience with this in the magical world (without dying tho, that's not how HP works) and he finds out about this dark magic that allegedly makes you live forever? Idk about you, but I would become obsessed with it

So since the Gangsey has Marauders dynamics, it is crystal clear that Gansey instantly had a crush on Blue like the first time he saw her (like James had on Lily, get it?)

and Blue was all annoyed bc 1) the Slytherin/Gryffindor rivalry, duh and 2) she really just found him annoying and prentious. Like this kid is walking around asking everyone about dark magic??? Not that Blue thinks she is normal, but Gansey is a different kind of weird.

I don't think Gansey would be like James tho and ask her out a million times. He would be just admiring her and annoying her at the same time, asking her about horcruxes and calling her Jane

Blue always rolls her eyes and ignores the question bc why would she have an opinion on horcruxes? UNTIL one day, after she realized she actually kinda likes Gansey (that's a thing for another time), she gives in and spills her thoughts on horcruxes, and Richard Campbell Gansey III WAS STARSTRUCKED.

Anyways, since Bluesey is out of the way let's focus on the Gangsey itself shall we?

Since they all were sorted into different houses it takes some time until they all become friends really. I would say they only really start hanging out halfway through fourth year

Ronan and Gansey are friends before even going to Hogwarts bc they were OG friends in the books as well, Gansey is still the only one the group that knew Ronan before his dad died and how he was a "nicer" person

Henry weirdly always looked up to Ganseys theories, and so he befriends him first in third year. Ronan is a little annoyed at that bc yk his father just died (idk when he died canonically in the books so roll with this) but Gansey is just really happy to have someone who listens to him and his crazy theories about dark magic

I forgot to mention but Ronan IS Irish, like he has a heavy accent and all (which Adam obviously thinks is super attractive)

And then Adam slowly befriends them as well because his father is a death eather, so Adam wants to know more about dark magic - why not turn to the weird Gryffindor kid who won't shut up about it?

Adam and Blue are dating at this point, so he drags her with him

And Noah befriended Blue in like first year because he is precious and loves Blue, so he also kinda ends up in this friendgroup

Adam and Blue's relationship is not as awkward as in trc (yeah, no, that would be pain) they just really have a loving Lily/Remus dynamic and thought it was love, but after like a year they realize it's just friendship and break-up

I also like the idea of Adam being Welsh like Remus is often headcanoned as and he is really ashamed of like his accent and his like "poor slang" because most Hogwarts students have a posh accent (a bit like Remus in All the young dudes, if you know what I mean)

That's why he likes Ronan's accent so much as well - Ronan doesn't give a damn about it and speaks without shame

Anygays, we're not deep-diving into Pynch bc that would make this already too long post even longer, but they get together in sixth year and tell nobody until seventh

It's not like their hiding it. Everybody (except for Blue) is just super oblivious and doesn't see how obvious it is that these two are going out

Blue and Ronan's friendship is as slow burn as in trc

They're just constantly arguing. Ronan is like really scared that Blue will hurt Gansey's feelings, and he shows it. Blue on the other hand has no glue why Ronan is being extra shitty to her, so she fights backs twice as much and yeah - let's just say they end up I detention (and the hospital wing) quite a lot because of hexing each other

But in seventh year they just click, after Blue and Gansey are sorta going out. Blue also gave Ronan the "If you hurt Adam I'm going to kill you"-speech and Ronan is like "bitch same" and they become besties instantly

Idk how to incorporate Noah's deadness here, bc like I said that's not really how the Wizarding World works

Maybe he is friends with a hogwarts ghost so everyone turns it into a joke like "Haha, Noah is like a ghost himself"? But not in a mean way if that makes sense?

Also I do like the idea of a Henry/Blue/Gansey relationship AFTER Hogwarts

Like Henry is really confused bc he thought he liked Gansey (he comes to that realization after seeing him interact more with Blue in year five/six) but suddenly he also likes Blue and he is not opposed to the idea of dating both? That sounds really confusing to me

Since everyone is so slowburn it just wouldn't fit into their Hogwarts timeline

But I can see the tree of them traveling around the world after Hogwarts just like in trc, so that's when Blue and Gansey also realise they like Henry

That's it for now. I have more ideas so I will probably post more about them in the future. I'm definitely planning on doing a whole Hogwarts Pynch post, but idk if I'll get to it.

[t3a-gh0st]

Clark Baxtresser when I was………. Clark Baxtresser when I was starkid innit…when I was starkid…..

[aslyran]

Hogwarts letter

[queermoons]

i know a fanfic is gonna eat if it has "internalised homophobia" in the tags

[mazzy-rockstar]

OMG !! Lilson ! You are a Pirates fan ?!?!?! 🥹🥹🥹🥲🥲🥲 my bestie 💕

Sure everyone who grew up in the early 2000s likes them! And not to brag but I met capn Jack Sparrow once in a theme park 😌

[cursedwithwords]

There are bad fics. There are good fics. Then there are fandom famous fics. These are all three separate genres.

[regulationlistener]

in the winter i get what i can only describe as More Autistic, like a weird combination of nostalgia and wanting nothing more than to look at lists and spreadsheets and sort things.

[tristantzara]

the worst thing that ever happened to me was when i was explaining the plot of "the happy hypocrite" (an 1897 short story that's sort of an adaptation of the picture of dorian gray) to my sister and my father thought i was talking about "some demented potter fic" ☹️

[fushitoru]

thinking about writing a reincarnated/isekai!gojo and reader series...

you and gojo were married in canon/jjk verse.

you’ve seen his mental health deteriorate because of the higher ups and how he’s perceived as a weapon and is a weapon. satoru’s mental health has been descending for a very long time, and by the end, when you’re soullessly watching his dead body projected by mei mei’s crows, you blankly volunteer to be next (ignoring all of kashmo's protests).

can anyone blame you? your life has no purpose anymore. you and satoru were never able to get the life you deserve. late nights spent waiting in bed for your lover, seeing the love of your life get burdened more and more from the weight of his responsibilities, and, in the end, even witnessing him volunteer his own body as if he were a doll, a weapon. you know damn well you're not going to spend the rest of your life replacing the flowers on his grave and try to reform the society that never even cared about satoru anyways.

you don’t last very long fighting sukuna, and you die, praying to whatever merciless god out there that, in another life, you and satoru get the happy ending you both deserved, that he wouldn't be the one that got away—

you wake up from your dream, gasping. you don’t know why it was so vivid; all you remember is that you were some kind of magician? like winx club? harry potter? hunter x hunter? and you had a husband and he WAS SMOKING HOT. also both of you died and you were kind of sad, because he was hot :(

so—as a college student—you head to your first lecture of the year. you’ve decided to switch majors and have to take this dumb math class that’s a gen ed and is filled with people. so you take one of two empty spots remaining.

the lecture goes on, until professor yaga rolls his eyes and suddenly everyone’s heads is turned towards the door, so you just follow the crowd.

and there he is.

a boy with the most stunning white hair and sheepish blue eyes upholding a charming grin, yelling out something undoubtedly snarky while taking his seat, some people dapping him up as he makes his way to the only seat—-the one next to you.

as he’s setting his stuff down, and he turns to look at you. blinks.

A breathless, “Hi.”

And then, your story begins again.

AHH COMMENT IF you want to be on the taglist <3

this is basically me giving you and gojo the rom com you deserve. does he remember you? did he get the same dream as you? and will he call the police if you chase after him, insisting he's your husband and the love of your life? stay tuned! prepare for angst (hurt/comfort), pining, and ridiculously horny reunion sex (at the end after i make you suffer and yearn, of course)

and to my bridgerton!gojo readers, i promise i will publish the first chapter only after chapter ten/eleven of bridgerton!gojo is out <3

[sunnami]

❝i am half-agony, half-hope. . . i have loved none but you.❞

summary: how the marauders loved you in their time. featuring harry potter the time-traveller and sixth-wheel.

pairing/s: poly!marauders + lily x reader.

tags: reader is referred to as she/her and a mother throughout the whole fic[!], reader is a violent gremlin who craves blood but the marauders love you for that, implied child abuse[!], mentions of blood and violence[!], disgustingly sappy poetic fluff, no angst, happy ending, not proofread we die like finnick odair, edited: very minor detail.

note: there is little plot, it’s just the marauders and their adoration for you. thank you all so much for your kind responses to my first marauders fic :(( ilysm! i hope you enjoy this one as well! because there are parts when i was writing that i ended up kicking my feet in the air and smiling to myself.

“MY NAME IS HARRY POTTER. I come from twenty-years in the future, you’re my mum — one of my ‘em, actually. It’s complicated. And you’re married to James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black.” 

You blink. 

“Get the fuck out of my room!” 

Harry James Potter has dodged many things in his life. Killing curses, jinxes, girls, Draco Malfoy, and Dudley’s sloppy punches, but he’s never had to dodge his sixteen-year-old mother’s fuzzy slipper before. (Godric, that sounds weird, even in his head.) He doesn’t know precisely how he arrived here. In the Slytherin common room, to be exact, in your dorm. Harry remembers duelling with Death Eaters, Hermione calling his name, and a flash of light hitting him square in the chest, then he remembers waking up in the cold tiles of the snake dungeon. He nearly throws himself off the window when he meets your eyes, bleary from interrupted sleep — it’s not often he gets to meet [read: one of] his dead parents, after all, three had been brutally murdered by Voldemort, and one killed by his own loony cousin. He misses Sirius, though. A lot. And right about now, he could do with some of Hermione’s nagging and brilliant plan-making. 

At present — or past, Harry guesses — he watches you scramble out from your duvet, hand clumsily reaching for your wand as you snarl at him. He wonders if his mother knows that he’s encountered other creatures far more threatening than her. Oh shit, he realizes with all the forces of an angry Hermione Granger, isn’t this the last thing he’s supposed to do? But, well, Harry has given, and given, so much of himself all for the greater good — just this once, he’d like to see his parents alive and well. Even if they were currently trying to blast him into the walls. 

“If you’d just let me explain, mum—!” Harry pleads, nearly dropping his glasses after dodging one of your stinging hexes. Godric, you’re crazy. “Please!” 

“Stop calling me that!” You screech, eyes set ablaze.  Harry finds that you’re quite dynamic with your attacks. A hairbrush, followed by a stinging jinx, then a thick History of Magic textbook — which rudely hits him in the face, but he doesn’t dare complain because you’re his mother, and he’s respectful like that — and after you’ve exhausted your breath, running him into a corner, and your nostrils flare with the stubbornness of a lion, you point the tip of your wand at him. “If this is another one of the Prewett’s shitty pranks, I want you to leave! You are in the girls’ dormitory beyond midnight, and so help me, if you aren’t walking out that door in the next five seconds, I will kill you and string you up by your bottoms for everyone in school to see! Maybe all your stupid rumours of me being a Death-Eater might come true after all!” 

“You’re a Death-Eater?” Harry asks dumbly. 

You growl furiously, and Harry figures that was not the right thing to say. “I wonder what McGonagall would say if I delivered your head to her on a silver platter.” 

“Professor,” Harry corrects with a toothy grin. “Professor McGonagall.” 

You slam his head against the wall.

Definitely the wrong thing to say. 

Harry groans, little Dobby heads floating around his vision. Why was this so much harder than actually facing Voldemort? Quick, he needed to think of something, otherwise he’d end up eviscerated to ashes on your cold, stone floors. Harry is pretty sure you’d use his remains as decoration to send off a message to your enemies. 

“You hate your father,” Harry slurs through the pain, remembering Remus’s stories of how you were the gentlest magical being he’s ever had the privilege to love — now that Harry thinks about it, Remus was being extremely biased, nothing about you is gentle at all. “He’s forcing you to marry someone old enough to be your grandfather. You love to read Muggle literature but had to stop when your father burnt your whole collection of books. Your favorite novel is Persuasion by Jane Austen. It’s the one book you carry with you everywhere, you could never get tired of it.”  

Your grip on his shoulders falters, but the fury in your eyes crackles. “This isn’t funny.” 

“It’s not meant to be funny, mum,” Harry croaks, voice cracking pathetically — strange how this is the most he’s ever uttered the word, mum; it’s a peculiar string of letters, foreign on his tongue. “You have tremors in your left leg from when your father cast the Cruciatus curse on you. One of your dearest friends is a Hogwarts house-elf named Pipley. You cheated on your Transfiguration essay once, and—” 

“That’s enough!” You bark, eyes narrowed in dangerous slits. “I don’t know where you heard those from, you creepy, little stalker, but if you want to keep breathing, then I suggest you shut up.” 

Harry scoffs — you don’t understand. Everything he’s learned about you is from Sirius and Remus. They talk about you with whispered devotion, your name like a prayer on their lips, their eyes glazed with wistfulness as though they could see you reaching out for them — but you were dead in Harry’s time. Yet, you might as well have been alive with their tales of you. 

(“She’s a different kind of beautiful,” Sirius had said, a year after breaking out from Azkaban, sitting by the fire in Grimmauld Place, taking a swig of decade-old firewhiskey, “The kind of beautiful you don’t want to take your eyes off from because you’re afraid she’ll disappear from your eyes. But you won’t forget her, oh no, you’ll memorize the freckles and moles on her skin, the scars from her years, the light in her eyes, and the way she holds her head up high. You should have seen her, James, she. . . she was — is glorious.”) 

“I told you,” says Harry firmly — although he loves his mother very much, she’s beginning to wear him out, “My name is Harry James Potter, I come from twenty-years in the future. You are one of my parents.” A lightbulb flashes in his head. He squirms in your hold, reaching for his robe pocket until he finds the thing he’s looking for. Harry dangles the ring in front of you, grinning in success when your eyes flash in recognition. “It’s—” 

“A family heirloom,” You say breathlessly. The alexandrite winks under the light, a familiar gold band with the Latin inscription of your House words. “Where did you steal this from?” 

Harry rolls his eyes. “You left it for me in my Gringotts vault. It’s my heirloom now. You have to believe me, there’s no way you can deny this.” 

You take a step backwards, nibbling on your lower lip, as you stagger to your bed — Harry nearly stumbling to catch you in case you fell; adjusting to the living proof of time travel was quite difficult, he, of all people, should know. He exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “Magic, amirite?” 

You throw a pillow at him, which he catches gracefully thanks to his Seeker reflexes, as you plop down in the comforts of your quilts. “Sleep. The other girls won’t be back until the end of the holiday. We can deal with whatever this is in the morning. It’s way too early for me to process the idea of a future Potter spawn following me around.” 

Harry smiles. “Yes, mum.” 

ONE THING THAT his fathers failed to tell him about you, and that Harry had to learn himself, was that you took ages to get ready. You sat on the chair in front of your vanity mirror, the birch wood legs whittled with snakes, and it was as though you had a Sticking Charm on the cushion. Harry didn’t know there could be so many creams, oils, and serums, and powders one put on their face. He blanches when you turn to offer him a cream for his under eyes. (“Suit yourself.” You shrug, turning to brush your cheek with dusts of pink. “Just saying, those dark circles aren’t doing you any favors.”)

“What am I like in the future?” You ask, a kind lilt to your voice, much like a warm hug, much like home. 

Harry stiffens, shoving his hands in pockets of the robes that were twice his size — you had given him the garments of Lucius Malfoy to change in, which you apparently had stolen from his room. It’s come full circle, really, the Sorting Hat had once told him he would be great in Slytherin, and now here he was, looking fabulous in green — because he was about to hurl at the feel of the velvet on his skin, knowing slimy Lucius Malfoy had worn it. (“No son—” You pause with a tight purse in your lips, as if you still can’t accept the fact. Harry doesn’t blame you. “—no son of mine will be parading around in red of all colors, future or not.” And Harry finds that he really doesn’t care, so long as you call him your son.)  

“Loved,” replies Harry gruffly, avoiding your eyes in the reflection of your mirror — they were piercing. One look and Harry wanted to spill all of his deepest, darkest secrets. He remembers the photographs in his album, the one he’s stared at so many times as a child. It’s a moving photograph of the five of you, fresh out of Hogwarts, each wearing a smile that stretched from ear-to-ear. Before Sirius and Remus, it was the only semblance of proof that Harry had — that you had once been alive. Remus is holding you by the waist in the picture, twirling you around as autumn leaves fell. You were — are — loved, and Harry thinks there’s no better description than that. 

(“I bloody hated her cat,” says Remus with a roguish quirk to his lips, regalling Harry with more talks of his parents. “Sirius, too. We just never got along with the little creature. But your mother loved it, and we would have done anything to make her happy. She deserved it, you see. She deserved more than what I had to offer her, but still she chose me anyway. And I am a selfish man, Harry, I crave glimpses of her and the whispers of her voice. She has made me a mad man whose only reprieve is her touch.”) 

You hum knowingly. “Stupid question, I guess. Since you aren’t allowed to reveal anything more about the future.” You sigh, gracefully threading your arms in the sleeves of your shirt, a green tie in the center of your collar. “Except, of course, when you gave me a heart attack in the middle of the night by telling me the last thing I want to become — no offense, I just don’t see how a relationship with those rowdy bunch would work. They get on my nerves far too much for me to ever feel anything other than disgust.” 

Harry doesn’t need a mirror to see that his expression has contorted in confusion; brows knitted and upper lip crinkled. By their memories of you, you all were madly in love in Hogwarts. Damn. This just made his trip to the past a lot harder. No maze seems to be ever just a maze. 

Luckily, you don’t notice him brewing a grand master plan to bring his parents together. Instead, you say, “But you don’t seem to be phased by any of this. If I had been thrown twenty years into the past, I would have puked my guts out twice at some point.” 

“Thanks for the image,” says Harry with a scowl. Truthfully, it had either been a present with a noseless Dark Lord to face, trauma to unpack but really never have the chance to, or a past where all of his parents were alive, and a chance to talk with them for however long he has. He knows where he’ll be staying, thank you very much. 

“Anytime,” You reply with an impish smile. 

Your heels pad across the floor as you walk over to him, mouth clicking as you pat the top of his head, full of wild, untameable Potter hair. “You need a trim soon,” You mutter, frowning, as you brush the thick strands away from his eyes, then you gasp — and Harry knows exactly what’s coming next. “Oh, you’ve got Evans’s eyes. That’s freaky.” 

“I know.” Harry grins. 

“Here’s the plan,” You say as you lead him out of your room, making sure no one saw him walking out of your door and getting the wrong impression — because that would be so wrong on many levels, but also, explaining to someone else that the person beside you was a time-traveller was just complicated in general. The Slytherin dungeon is unfamiliarly familiar, eerily quiet, as the two of you made your way out. “Just say you’re Potter’s distant relative, twice or thrice removed, and you’ve always been here. If you lie to their faces enough, they’ll believe it eventually.” 

“Will that work?” Harry doesn’t really mind — he needs a connection to James, his father, if he’s going to work out a connection between you and the others, because at the moment, it doesn’t seem like you’re too fond of them. There’s a tick on your jaw every time you mumble the word, Potter. Nevertheless, Harry decides he’s going to spend the duration of the holiday break trying to set you up with them — on the list of most insane things he’s ever done, living out the Parent Trap was high up the tally. 

You shrug. “They’ve fallen for less.” 

(“She’s got this adorable habit when she lies,” Sirius tells Harry, whipping up a stack of pancakes for their breakfast — Remus browsing through the morning paper. It’s the closest he’s ever been to a normal family. “It’s not obvious to her, of course, but I know her more than I know my own name. So we play along with it.” For a moment, he stops drizzling the maple syrup on the well-cooked batter, gazing at Remus fondly. “D’you remember that, Moony? She led us straight to one of her pranks, and we ended up covered in slug slime. She was so obvious — with her adorable fucking giggles. I need help with Charms, she said, and we knew right away it was a set-up. But it didn’t matter. I’d happily let her lead me to my ruin.”)  

The Great Hall is the same as Harry remembers. Now that most have returned home for the holidays, those who stay back mingle with students from other Houses, sharing meals under the bewitched ceiling, their low murmurs and hushed Christmas greetings bouncing off the walls. Harry scours the four tables to find a hint of blazing red hair, or the scent of impending trouble. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to search very far. As fate would have it, James Potter finds you — and where he is, Sirius Black is sure to follow. 

You’re barely seated when James comes bounding over to your table — more precisely, he struts, and Harry is horrified to ever be proven wrong by Snape, of all people. He ignores the roll of your eyes as he drags a leg over the bench, sitting to face you as Sirius occupies the space to your left before Harry can even sit down. He can’t even fathom how weird it is to see his parents as rambunctious teenagers. Lovesick, rambunctious teenagers. 

“Morning, dove.” James preens under your glare, stealing a grape from your bowl with a boyish smirk. His hair looks as though he’s ran his hand through it many times. “You look ravishing today.” 

“As always,” Sirius pipes in. “But that eyeshadow really isn’t complementing your skin tone, my darling.” 

You smile at him, right before your lips twist into a cutthroat sneer. “Piss off, Black.”

James stifles a laugh as he shovels a mass of potatoes on your plate, then pumpkin pasties, and slides a steaming cup of Dragon Well tea in front of you. 

“What the hell are you doing, Potter?” You reach over to smack his arm when he sprinkles apple slices and bacon on your breakfast. 

“What does it look like?” James smiles lopsidedly. “You need to eat more, honey.”

(In the future, Sirius will tell Harry, “It started off as a joke, a way to get on her nerves — but then, it just became this thing about taking care of her, making sure she got enough sleep before her tests, wondering if she had breakfast or dinner, staying with her in the library, walking her to the Slytherin common room, and sending her stupid notes just to make her laugh. You don’t get it, Harry. I’d give my every breath to ensure her life. We all would.” Harry doesn’t see Sirius any more during that evening, but he hears a bottle crashing against a wall, cracking into a million pieces, and the masked sound of Sirius sobbing, and Harry decides to leave him alone for the night.) 

Then, you tear your eyes away from James — he huffs, pushing your plate to you, mildly annoyed that you’ve deprived him of your eyes; they were his favorite part of you, you see, so expressive and full of life; James thinks you put the stars to shame — and thankfully, you remember that Harry still exists. You lightly smack Sirius’s leg until he gives Harry some room to sit. “Potter, meet other Potter. It’s the holidays, shouldn’t it be the perfect time to let go of House prejudices and spend time with family?” 

James looks at Harry up and down. “You must be from dad’s side of the family with all that hair.” 

Harry lets out a breath of relief. That was easy — way too easy. When he takes the vacant space in between you and Sirius, you dump all the available food on his plate, just as James had done for you. 

“Eat,” You say with a tone of finality. “You look like the wind could snap you in half.” 

“Yes, m—” Harry stops himself before he could finish his sentence, avoiding Sirius’s curious gaze. 

“Wow.” Sirius pokes Harry in the shoulder and in the cheek. “You really look like a mini-James, you’ve even got his terrible eyesight.” 

“Oi!” 

Your fork clatters against the silverware as you turn to Sirius with a shrill. “Not that I do enjoy your company — because, trust me, I do not want you here at all and would very much prefer if you got out of my sight — but why are you here? The Gryffindor table is over there. Unless your housemates finally got sick of you, Potter, which I can definitely see happening.” 

James chuckles, tossing another grape in his mouth without taking his eyes off you. “It’s as you said, isn’t it? It’s the time for putting aside House prejudices. And I think it’s a lovely day to enjoy a meal with my favorite snake.” 

“Drop dead,” You retort, digging into your chicken with a little more force than necessary. 

“Oh, dove.” James shakes his head, a teasing grin pulling at his lips. “It’s cute that you think death will keep me from you.” 

(Harry’s been told before, probably by Sirius, that this line had been wedged into his wedding vows for you. “A dramatic one, James was,” Sirius chuckles to himself one morning, Harry and Hermione listening intently, “He always said he’d rather die than ever hurt her. There was this time in seventh year, they had a fight — it was ugly — and she had ignored him for a week. James cried in Remus’s arms begging him to cut his heart out, saying that he didn’t deserve to keep on breathing, not after making you cry.”) 

“That is so creepy,” You say in disgust, scrunching your nose. Sirius chortles at your side. “I still wonder why Evans agreed to go out with you.” 

“It’s all part of the charm, dove.” James winks. “It’s all part of the charm.” 

Harry wants to barf, actually.

After breakfast, James then decides to introduce Harry to Lily, Remus, and Peter. (He’s gonna need the patience of a saint to not Avada Kedavra that rat on the spot.) Harry had spent the whole morning watching Sirius peel oranges and give them to you with a smitten look in his eyes — naturally, you gave whatever Sirius offered you to Harry, and each time Padfoot would visibly wilt. If he were in his Animagus form, Harry thinks he would be whining by now, tongue out and all. James and Sirius follow after you like lost puppies when you extricate yourself from the table.

“Where are you going?” James calls, hot on your heels as you leave the Great Hall.

“Away from you, Potter!” 

And James actually sighs when you turn the corner and disappear from their peripheral vision. Seconds later, he turns to Harry with a blinding smile, “She’s definitely charmed.”

Harry chortles.

“Well, come on then!” James guffaws as he wraps an arm around Harry’s neck — this is so, so strange. They begin walking in the opposite direction of where you went. “I still can’t believe we’ve got another Potter here and in Slytherin. I think I would have remembered Minnie calling your name during the Sorting Ceremony. What year are you in?” 

He’s supposed to start his sixth-year in a few weeks. “Fifth.” Technically. 

“We should ask Lily,” says Sirius, hands in his pockets and ebony ringlets tickling his nape. “She’s got the best memory out of all of us.”

It’s odd, Harry thinks, meeting the person who’s got his eyes — or the other way around, as people have told him. It’s like someone carved out the emeralds of Lily Evans’s eyes and bestowed it upon Harry for safekeeping. She sits beside Remus Lupin, head resting on his shoulder, hands clasped together, as they enjoy the shade. Nex to them, oblivious to their intimate conversation, is Peter Pettigrew — with his rosy, cherub cheeks and innocent blue eyes; not at all the image of a pathological, cowardly liar. Their heads snap in attention as James boisterously cries for their name. 

“Marauders — and Lily-pad — meet ickle Potter.�� James lightheartedly whacks Harry on the back, to which Harry feels his lungs spill out from his mouth, he’s sure there’s an imprint of his father’s hand on his back now. 

“There’s two Potters in Hogwarts?” Sea-green eyes look at him in scrutiny as Lily knits her brows. “How even is the castle still standing?” 

James cackles like it’s the best joke he’s ever heard in his entire life, slapping his knee for dramatic effect. Oh, well, at least they’re buying Harry’s half-baked lie. At this point, it’s not even baked, it’s just wet, soggy, and poorly done. “Good one, Lily-pad!”

Sirius ruffles Remus’s shaggy blonde hair, canines bared in a wide grin. “This one here’s Moony, uptight prefect in the morning and absolute beast in the evening.” 

Harry blanches. Surely he was talking about his furry problem, right? Right? 

Remus doesn’t even flinch, just peels off Sirius’s hand from him and extends his hand out to Harry. “Please do not mind him. Remus Lupin, nice to meet you. Although, I can’t believe this is the first time we’ve met. We would have definitely remembered if we had another Potter in our midst.” 

“It’s true, we Potters are just hard to forget,” says James, smiling cheekily. 

Harry pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Mum didn’t take the Potter name. I’m part Dursley. Muggle.” 

Lily hums, toying at the ends of her bright hair. “Dursley, huh? What a familiar name.” 

“It’s a common one,” Harry assures her — not at all the names of the people who would take him in after they died. And make his life miserable. 

“I suppose you’re right,” says Lily, unconvinced. 

“And this is Peter.” James introduces the boy eagerly, pride in his voice — as though this isn’t the person who literally allies himself with Voldemort. As if Peter won’t betray his friends all because of fear. 

“N–Nice to meet you,” Peter stammers with a nervous fidget, “Any family of James is a friend of ours.” 

Harry’s eye twitches. 

IT IS ALMOST COMICAL — the way their eyes land on your figure, bursting through the courtyard from the corridors, winter cloak swishing with every step, tendrils of hair swaying in the crisp wind, and head held up high, thick books under your arms. You pause in front of the Marauders, face blank, then you turn to Peter, greeting him with a: “Hello, only Gryffindor I can tolerate.” 

Peter’s cheeks burn a saccharine hue of pink. Oh, no, no, no — absolutely not — Harry will not stand for a little crush Peter Pettigrew has on his mother. He needs James to act now. “Hi,” Peter replies shyly. 

Lily quirks her lips. “Hello, princess, see your score for the Astronomy test yet?”

You scowl. “Zip it, Evans.” 

The sound of Lily’s laughter fills the atmosphere — it’s the sort of melody that makes flowers bloom in deserts. “Had a bit of difficulty with the star charts?” 

Sirius pinches your cheek — Harry thinks you’re going to murder him on the spot. “Difficulty? I think this one just slept through the whole thing.” 

James snickers. “Must have been one hell of a nap, princess. You were drooling on my jumper.” 

“I most certainly do not drool!” You gasp, appalled, eyes wide as you step away from Sirius.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “What? Is drooling too barbaric for the pretty, little pure-blooded princess now? Newsflash, pet, you’re just as human as we are.” 

“Oh, you horrible, loathsome, infuriating—” You whip around to beat his chest with the course book in your grasp — it’s the kind of book Hermione would consider for light reading. 

“Irresistibly attractive—?” Sirius supplies for you, grin widening with as he captures your wrist with his hands. 

“In your dreams!” You shrill. 

You exhale slowly, eyes closing, chest rising when you take a sharp inhale. You open your eyes and stare straight at Harry — for a moment he fears that you’ll bite his head off. “Harry, dear, will you accompany me to the library? I think I’ve found something important regarding your situation.” 

Harry nods. “Is it time already?” 

“Yes,” You say firmly. “And time is of the essence. Come on.” 

“Wait!” Lily calls out to you as you turn to head back to the castle, Harry in tow — he tries to avoid the way James is glaring at your linked arms. “Hogsmeade next week?” 

Your jaw falls to the ground — this must have been unrehearsed, if the others’ reactions were anything to go by; Remus had dropped his book in shock, Sirius looked like he couldn’t decide between applauding Lily’s bravery or shaking her, and James was somehow frozen in time. “Excuse me?” 

“You’re excused, princess,” says Lily, dimples poking out of her cheek as she takes another step towards you. “You, me, Hogsmeade. A date. I’m sure you’ve gone on one of those before.” 

Harry elbows your stomach as you stare at Lily in shock. It takes a few moments to break you out of your stupor. “A–And what makes you think I’ll just go with you?” 

Lily shrugs. “I’m fit. Aren’t I, Remus?” 

“The fittest,” says Remus without missing a beat. 

You laugh incredulously. “Do you just expect me to go along with this? You’re mad, Evans.” 

Harry glares at you. You need to go along with this. 

“Are you scared, princess?” Lily’s face is inches away from yours, noses almost touching — Harry doesn’t know if he should keep watching this painful way of flirting — as she grins at you, happiness barely contained within her eyes. 

To your credit, you don’t back down. (Harry has to say this for the masses: he saw your gaze flitter down to Lily’s lips for a split second.) “Stop calling me that, Evans.” 

“One date, then.” 

You growl in exasperation, eyes flickering to the boys behind her back — pretending not to hear their conversation. “I suppose I’ll have to deal with them as well?” 

Lily beams and Harry swears sunflowers could grow in her direction. “We’re a package deal.” 

“Unfortunately,” You utter — but Harry notices it, the lack of venom in your voice. You straighten your posture, nose lifted haughtily, “I choose where we’re going.” 

“Done.” The sun peeks out from the cloud just as Lily smiles at you. 

“And I want to—” 

“Done,” Remus interjects raspily, peering up at you from underneath his lashes. “Anything you want, it’s yours.” 

You fight a growing smile, but continue, “If we’re going out in public, you’re going to have to wear—” 

“Done,” says James giddily, he looks as though he could kiss you in front of everyone without a care in the world.  

“You can’t just agree to anything I say!” You flap your arms in frustration. 

“Yes, dear,” Sirius teases. 

“Do you know how much you piss me off, Black?” You squawk. “Because you are this close to—”

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Sirius confesses, every pretense shed raw from his skin, sincerity pouring from his words. 

“I—” You falter, heat rushing to your cheeks. “You’ve gone mad.” 

“It’s your fault, dove,” says James, eyes twinkling like crescent moons as he smiles. “You best take accountability for this.” 

“You’re incorrigible — all of you,” You say as you avoid their gazes.

(But they were yours. Past, present, and future. They loved you so much that their soul was no longer their own — it was yours; yours to keep, yours to break, and yours to love. It would be unjust to ask them why they loved you. Do we ask why the sun rises each day without rest? Do we ask a daisy to stop blooming, or a tree to stop growing after it has endured storms and floods? After all, we do not ask why humans follow the light in a tunnel shrouded in darkness.) 

“Come on, Harry, let’s go.” You reach for his hand, he notices immediately that the tips of your ears are pink, and your palms are warm with sweat. He barely sees Peter wave goodbye before you tug him in the direction of the castle entrance. 

“Wait up!” Remus catches up to you two in quick strides, offering to carry your books for you — not that you agree, stubborn Slytherin that you are. “I’ll walk you to the library.” 

“There’s no need for that, Lupin, thank you.” You dodge his eyes, lips tightly pressed together, nails slightly digging into Harry’s arm. 

“Remus,” He says with a twinkle. “Call me Remus.” 

“Alright.” You pause. “Remus.” 

(In that moment, Remus wonders if you remember decking Lucius Malfoy in the face to defend him in your fourth year. He didn’t think he deserved to even breathe in the same air as you — the pure-blooded princess, dressed in clothing worth more than his life, adorned in jewelry he could only dream to afford, raised to believe she was better than everyone else. Then, you beat up Evan Rosier the next month in the courtyard, eyes ablaze, extravagant silk marred with grass stains and mud, and knuckles split open. You spit blood on the ground, looking at Lily then back at Rosier. “Red,” You say, kicking him one last time in the stomach, unafraid of McGonagall’s wrath growing louder and louder. “Just like everyone else. Like those Muggleborns you fear. We’ve all got dirty blood, Rosier. Suck it up.” 

“I’ll tell your father about this!” Rosier bellows through bloody teeth. 

“Tell him!” You grab his neck and slam your forehead against his. “Tell him that I decide my own future now!”

Remus doesn’t even have to think about it. 

He falls in love.) 

FUNNILY ENOUGH, IT’S LILY who gives you her heart first, before anyone else does. It’s the last month of her first year at Hogwarts — it still hasn’t quite sunk in yet that she was a witch. Her, not Petunia, but her — Lily Evans, the witch. Apparently, some people can’t believe it either. A girl from Ravenclaw calls her this foul word, she’s heard it a few times now but it always hurts the same. James and Sirius get into a fight for her honor, now faced with detention later this evening. But she can’t help but wonder, what if they were right? What if she really didn’t belong in this world? It was too good to be true, anyway. Perhaps she’ll just run a flower boutique with Petunia.

“Oi.” 

The sound of your voice startles her, and she nearly topples over in the Great Lake. Lily catches sight of your Slytherin colors and resigns herself to another round of name-calling. “What do you want?” 

“They’re wrong, you know,” You tell her, ignoring Lily’s question. You look down on her with your nose raised arrogantly — she wishes she could be like you. Born to be magic. “You’ve got a terrifying brain locked up in your head there, Evans. And they know it, too. They’re scared.” 

Lily scoffs. “I’m just a Mudblood to them. There’s nothing to be intimidated by.” 

You sneer. “Don’t say that word. You’re more than that. More than them. They’ve got long ways to go to prove they have a place in this world. But you — you’ve defied the odds and you were destined to become magic. You don’t have to prove anything. You have the right to be in the wizarding world and no one can take that away from you.” 

Then, you pivot on your heels, not bothering to hear her reply. “You’re my rival now, Evans. Do keep up. We’ve got an Astronomy test tomorrow. I look forward to seeing how you do then.” 

Lily just gapes. She’s certain there’s butterflies in her stomach. Her heart thumps wildly against her ribcage. Lily raises her hands to feel her blushing cheeks. There’s a light unfamiliar sensation in her stomach — like the urge to kick her legs and scream into a pillow, or more precisely, chase after you and hold your hand.

She stiffens.

Oh.

part two

[msmk11]

Darling Boys

James Potter x fem!reader; Harry Potter (son) x reader (mom); James Potter (dad) x Harry Potter (son)

CW: FLUFF; one mention of food

Summary: You’re shocked when your son wants to spend time with you.

****

It’s a cold Friday evening and by a rare chance, you have the house entirely to yourself. James is out having drinks with his friends and Harry is over at the Burrow. The silence is a little eerie, but you are also enjoying the peace. You’ve got a glass of wine in hand and a movie on while you’re snuggled up on the couch under the thick wool blanket Molly knitted you for Christmas. You don’t expect either of your boys to be home anytime soon, so you’re surprised when the flames of the fireplace burn green and Harry comes stumbling out. You sit up in your seat, wine sloshing a little in your glass.

“Haz? What’re you doing home so early?”

Your son wipes his feet on the rug- set out for any ash- and shrugs, “felt like calling it an early night.”

Your brows furrow, “hmm, really? Is… everything okay?”

Harry’s eyes widen and he nods, “yeah, Mum, I’m fine, really. Just wanted to be home. Is that okay….?”

You observe your boy’s face for any hint of deception but can’t spot it, “okay, sweetheart. Well you know I’m always glad to have you home.”

He smiles at you and slides his shoes off, leaving them in his already small pile. You don’t think to nag him about it.

His eyes trail to the screen and to you, comfy on the couch, “whatcha doing?”

“Just watching a movie and having some wine. Thinking about ordering a pizza soon. Have you eaten?”

Harry laughs, “I was at the Burrow. Of course I ate. But… can I join you?”

Surprise complicates your features- Harry’s far from a rom-com enthusiast and you were certain he’d gotten too cool to hang out with his old mom. Of course, you don’t say that, happy to take any quality time he gives you.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

You sit up and scooch over on the couch, offering him a place underneath the blanket. He joins you and your heart melts in your chest. You side-eye him one more time and then press play on the movie, a small smile playing across your lips. The two of you watch the movie for a few minutes in silence.

“Mum?”

You look over at Harry, “yes, Haz?”

He fidgets nervously for a second, “uh- can- uhm…” he pauses and sighs before shaking his head, “can I lay with you?”

You think you’re going to die on the spot. Not only does Harry want to spend time with you, he is asking for physical affection, and who are you to deny your baby.

“Sweetheart, yes.”

You hope you play it cool.

You lay back and Harry crawls in between your legs, laying his head on your chest. You wrap your arms around him and kiss his head gently.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Harry stares up at you with your own eyes, “yes Mum, really. I just… well I just missed you.”

You audibly coo and your son blushes in embarrassment.

“Well, I’m glad to have you here, sweetheart. I love spending time with you.”

He hums and hugs you, “I love you, Mum.”

You run your hands through his hair and his eyes flutter shut. Just like his father.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

The movie plays on, Harry staying cuddled up to you. He watches the movie for a bit, but your fingers running through his hair sends him to sleep quickly.

An hour later, the front door opens and your husband comes in quietly. He pads into the living room, smiling at you as he sees you cuddled up on the couch watching a movie. James moves to kiss you but freezes when he realizes you’re not alone.

You put your finger to your lips to shush him, eyes trailing down to your son fondly.

James’ eyes soften at the sight, “baby… what’s he doing here? I thought he’d be out still.”

“Said he missed me,” you murmur, voice thick with emotion and joy.

James smiles at you, heart melting at the sight of his two most treasured people so happy and together. He kisses your head and then ruffles Harry’s hair gently.

Harry stirs slightly and you wince, fearful that the moment is over.

“Dad?” Harry croaks softly.

“Hey Haz,” James murmurs, love oozing from every word.

Harry sits up and your heart breaks, sad that your quality time with your son is already over.

“Will you join Mum and I?”

Your heart bursts into a kaleidoscope of butterflies.

“Of course. That’s the best question ever.”

You soon find yourselves in a familiar arrangement- one you hadn’t realized would be gone until suddenly your boy had grown up. James sits against the couch and you’re between his legs, laying against his chest. Harry is between your legs, laying curled up against you. It’s just like it was when he was little, and your eyes swell with happy tears.

“I love you both, my darling boys.”

[talesbyhestia]

I AM (gently) FORCING MY BROTHERS TO BECOME HARRY POTTER FANS SO THAT I WILL FINALLY HAVE SOMEONE TO TALK ABOUT ALL THE LORE, INSIDE JOKES AND USELESS FACTS I KNOW MWAHAHAHA I'M A GENIUS

[alpaca-clouds]

Why the media CEOs will always learn the wrong lessons

Yesterday a friend and I talked about how the entire (AAA) game industrie looked at BG3 being as popular as it is and going: "Oh, we need to produce 100+ hour games, I guess! Those sell!" Which... obviously is not why it is popular. The game is not popular because it has 100+ hours of gameplay, but because it has engaging characters, that are well-acted and that work as good hooks for the players. Like, let's face it: The reason why I so far have sunken 160 hours into this game is, because I wanna spend time with these characters - and because I wanna give them their happy endings.

But the same has happened too, just a bit earlier this year, right? When Barbie broke the 1 billion and every Hollywood CEO went: "Oh, so the people want movies based on toy franchises! Got it!" To which the internet at large replied: "... How is that the lesson you learned from this?"

Well, let me explain to you, why this is the lesson they learn: It is because the CEOs and the boards of directors at large are not artists or even engaged with the medium they produce. They mostly are economists. And their dry little hearts do not understand stuff more complex than numbers and spread sheets.

That sounds evil, I know, but... It is sadly the truth. When they look at a successful movie/series/game/book/comic, they look at it as a product, not a piece of art or narrative. It is just a product that has very clear metrics.

To them Barbie is not a movie with interesting stylistic choices that stand out from the majority of high budget action blockbusters. It is a toy movie with mildly feminist themes.

Or Oppenheimer is not a movie to them with a strong visual language and good acting direction. No, it is a historical blockbuster.

And this is true for basically every form of media. I mean, books are actually a fairly good example. In my life I do remember the big book fads that happened. When Harry Potter was a success, there was at least a dozen other "magical school" book series being released. When Twilight was a big success there was suddenly an endless number of "teen girl falls in love with bad boy, who is [magical creature]" YA. When the Hunger Games was a success, there were hundreds of "YA dystopia" books. Meanwhile in adult reading, we had the big "next Game of Throne" fad.

Of course, the irony is, that within each of those fads there might have been one or two somewhat successful series - but never even one that came even close to whatever started the fad.

Or with movies, we have seen it, too. When Avengers broke the 1 billion (which up to this point only few movies did) the studios went: "Ooooooh, so we need shared universe film series" - and then all went to try and fail to create their own cinematic universe.

Because the people, who call the shots, are just immensely desinterested in the thing they are selling. They do not really care about the content. All they care about is having a supposedly easy avenue of selling it. Just as they do not care about the consumer. All they care about is that the consumer buys it. Why he buys it... Well, they do not care. They could not care less, in fact.

So, yeah, get ready for a 20 overproduced games with a bloated 100+ hours of empty gameplay, but without the engaging characters. And for like at least 15 more moves based on some toy franchise, that nobody actually cares about.

And then get ready for all the CEOs to do the surprised Pikachu face, when all of that ends up not financially successful.

Really, I read some interviews yesterday from some AAA-studio CEOs and their blatant shock and missing understanding on why BG3 works for so many people.

Because, yeah... capitalism does not appreciate art. Capitalism does not understand art. It only understands spread sheets.