#voldemort has no chill

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

Harry wandered back from Dumbledore’s office in a daze. He continued to question what he could possibly learn about how to defeat Voldemort by taking a trip down memory lane, as he had since these meetings had started, but now he felt added stirrings of discomfort. Like his skin was a size too small or he’d walked through an invisible spiderweb.

Voldemort, back when he’d been Tom Riddle, was… very much like Harry. Dumbledore could say that their choices defined them and made them different or whatever, and maybe he was right. But seeing how Riddle was talked about by the matron, how Dumbledore treated him in that first meeting – it made Harry realise how very easily he could have been the evil outcast, if anyone had listened to the Dursleys’ lies, or found out about his parseltongue abilities, or if he hadn’t already been lauded as some hero since he’d been a baby. As much as he didn’t like the fame and the wild mood swings of the magical population’s attitude towards him, Harry knew those expectations had guided his path and moulded who he was becoming.

Dumbledore’s actions were… well, unkind was possibly the nicest way to put it. He had instantly judged an eleven-year old as irredeemable, pretended to light all his worldly possessions on fire, and didn’t seem to find anything wrong with how he’d acted even sixty years later. Yes, Riddle hadn’t exactly helped his case with that talk of hurting things, but Harry had seen that desperation for connection, for belonging, that he’d once felt.

And then there was the added fact that he was being shown private moments from Riddle’s history. Harry knew how he’d feel if someone was shown his memories of life at the Dursleys. He still hadn’t told anyone about the cupboard under the stairs, and the rest his friends only guessed at.

Maybe he was reading too far into things, or projecting his own situation. Maybe Ron and Hermione were right and his saving-people-thing was showing. After all, hadn’t Riddle grown up to be a megalomaniac who led a hate group that murdered and tortured muggles and muggleborns? Maybe there should be limits to Harry’s empathy.

But Harry’s secret power was love, according to Dumbledore. If caring was what differentiated him from Voldemort – and especially since he couldn’t seem to stop it even when it left him gutted, cold and alone – then dammit, Harry was going to care.

So, Harry did what he did best (?) and leapt headfirst without looking.

Ducking into a dusty, moonlit classroom, he leaned against a desk, pulled out a bit of parchment and quill, and started to write.

Voldemort,

So, on a scale of one to ten, how pissed would you be

Hope you haven’t murdered anyone lately oh wait it’s you

Hey. I wanted you to know that Dumbledore showed me the memory of you receiving your Hogwarts letter. At the orphanage. With the whole fire wardrobe thing. 

I feel like I should apologise. It definitely seems like an invasion of privacy and I didn’t want to know, but now I do, and I’m sorry?

Is this weird? This is weird.

Anyway, I also saw the matron talking about you, but I know that sometimes people lie for stupid reasons, so here’s a one-time opportunity of me asking for your side of the story. If you want.

You probably don’t care.

– Harry (Potter)

Before Ron or Hermione found out or he could think better of it, Harry snuck up to the owlery and tied the letter to a nondescript school owl. (Hedwig was incensed that he would use another bird and pecked at his head a few times before flying off to the rafters to give him the cold shoulder, but there was no way he’d send his beloved owl off to Voldemort. Sorry, school bird.)

He returned to the Gryffindor common room as soon as the owl flew off, putting the letter as far from his mind as possible. After all, it wasn’t like he’d receive a response.

(thus, friends absent speak)

[ellecdc]

A Man With a Plan.1

prologue // p1 // p2 // p3 // p4 // p5 // p6 // p7 // p8

Remus Lupin x whimsical!reader - Hogwarts Era (no Voldemort) - Soulmate AU

CW: mentions of bullying - only one description of it, but it's chill cuz James tells them to fuck off like the king he is? Descriptions of werewolf behaviour idk. Use of Y/N

Synopsis: Remus planned to never fall in love. Moony had other plans.

“Don’t you think she’s just the loveliest thing, Moons?” James spoke in reverence.

Remus needn’t move his gaze from his book to know that Lily Evans just walked into the library – so he didn’t. 

“Sure is, James.”

“Don’t be getting any ideas though.” James said as he nudged his friend. He was clearly trying to go for light and breezy, but Remus caught the nervous twinge in his voice.

“You truly have nothing to worry about, Prongs.” He muttered.

“What? Don’t like birds?” James asked, though he was still watching Lily make her way over to her friends.

“Who doesn’t like birds?” Sirius questioned as he appeared out of nowhere, swatting Remus’ feet off a neighbouring chair and taking the seat for himself.

“Remus, apparently.” Peter answered from behind his book.

Remus finally lowered his book to regard his friends. “That is not what I said.”

“He said he doesn’t like Lily.” James told Sirius, finally turning his attention away from this girl to look at his mate like can you believe this guy?

“I literally just said I agreed that she was lovely.” Remus guffawed.

“If you think she’s so lovely, why don’t you go ask her out then?” Sirius asked with a smirk, causing James to let out a strangled groan. 

“What! No, common that’s like, against the bro code. Oh! Hi Y/N!” James cut himself off as he spotted you entering the library.

“Hello, James.” You greeted serenely as you started towards him. “What has your aura so pink today?”

This caused both Sirius and Remus’ eyebrows to cock, though neither of them interrupted yours and James’ interaction. 

“We were just talking about how lovely Lily is.” James answered solemnly.

“Yes, I suppose that would do it.” You answered as you turned to follow James’ gaze. 

“It’s funny, her aura turns the same colour when she looks at you. I wonder what that could mean.” You said softly, completely missing the way James’ head reared back.

“Well, I must be off. I’ve been trying to check out a book all week, but each time I’ve come to the library I’ve ended up distracted trying to clear the nargles from the shelves. The library is just full of them!” 

Your voice was feather light as you bid a simple goodbye to James who returned it with an easy smile before you floated away.

James turned from your retreating form to see the bemused faces of his friends, sans Peter who still hadn’t raised his head from his book.

“What was that?” Sirius finally asked.

“What was what?” James asked as he furrowed his brows. “Y/N?”

“Since when are you friends with her?” Sirius continued.

“We have care of magical creatures together. She’s tutoring me, actually. She’s really quite nice.” James said as he picked up his own forgotten textbook.

Sirius, still not able to let it go, added, “She’s an odd little bird, isn’t she?” 

James only shook his head. “She’s harmless. People give her a harder time than she deserves.” 

“Perhaps...” Remus acquiesced. “But what the hell is a nargle?” 

“Oh, not a clue.” James answered simply before beginning to work on his Ancient Runes translation.

Remus and Sirius exchanged one more look before moving to their own homework.

It’s not that Remus didn’t know who you were – Hogwarts wasn’t a big enough school to not know the other students in your own year – but there had never been any interactions between your circles of friends. Namely, Remus’ friends and whoever you happened to hang out with never seemed to intertwine. Remus had to assume you had friends – even he had friends, and he was a monster – but he had no idea who they could be. 

Remus had to admit you were a cute little thing, if a little odd as Sirius said. James could be a lot of things, but he always saw the best in people; so, it really shouldn’t have surprised Remus that James had made a friend of you. 

What Remus didn’t yet know was what your newfound friendship with James would mean for him.

“So, what do we think? Does Lily here have some competition?” Marlene joked with a wicked grin as she threw her arm across Lily’s shoulders at the Gryffindor table.

“Competition for what?” Sirius asked around a mouthful of eggs from his spot across from Peter and Remus.

“James, of course.” Dorcas clarified.

Lily groaned. “I was never competing.”

“I mean, who needs tutoring in care of magical creatures? Don’t you just like, show up and feed them? Seems like a ruse to me.” Mary chuckled from her place.

Peter leaned into Remus before adding. “Does seem a little weird that James needs help in care of magical creatures, seeing as that’s exactly what he does once a month.”

Remus nearly choked on his tea before regaining his composure. Apparently, he hadn't regained it quickly enough. 

“What’s so funny over there?” Lily asked as she narrowed her teasing-filled eyes at the two offending boys.

“Nothing at all, Evans. But trust me when I say you have absolutely nothing to worry about when it comes to the future Mr. Evans-Potter.” He responded easily. All the mirth left Lily’s face as she turned her gaze towards her breakfast, but both Peter and Remus noticed the faint blush dusting her cheeks. 

It was surprising to all, although not surprising at all (I mean, come on, James has been at this for seven years – it was bound to come about eventually), that Lily was slowly beginning to warm up to James’ advances. It probably helped that they were head girl and boy this year, it also probably helped that James was less annoying about it and far more polite with his advances, and it also probably helped that the rest of Lily’s friends really quite liked James. 

As if summoned, James accompanied by Lily’s competition, entered the Great Hall together. 

“I’d really like that, Y/N. Thank you!” James could be heard saying as the two of you approached his friends.

“It’s really no problem, James. I’m sure they’d love to have more visitors.” You responded softly. Remus noticed your smile was just as soft as your voice; he thought it was lovely. 

What the fuck? Stop thinking people are lovely, you git. He scolded himself immediately. 

“Who’s this little birdie introducing you to, Prongsie?” Sirius asked as he shot a salacious wink your way.

You furrowed your brows at him in confusion.

“Birdie?” You asked James softly. He smiled kindly as he turned to you. “A nickname, Y/N. The way Sirius just said it could be taken as a compliment.” 

“Or an insult if you don’t appreciate such brazen flirting.” Dorcas added which earned her an elbow to the ribs from said flirt. 

“Anyway,” James interjected, looking towards you somewhat awkwardly. “Y/N here was helping me study facts about thestrals when she told me she has befriended a wild herd not far from Hogwarts. She said she’d take me to meet them.”

“Meet thestrals? Can you even see thestrals, Prongsie?” Sirius asked inquisitively. 

“There are other ways to enjoy the presence of beings without being able to see them.” You offered simply, your tone remaining nothing but kind even as you corrected him. Remus couldn’t help but smile at you.

Stop smiling, dumbass. He mentally berated himself.

“Quite right. I’d like to try feeding them and petting them.” James said with a level of finality. “If you think they’ll let me.” He added hastily as he turned to you.

You offered the git a soft smile and patted his arm placatingly. “I’m sure they will, James. In fact, I think your voice might be the perfect hertz; the thestrals will love your lower tones.”   

The majority of the group just furrowed their brows at you, but Marlene began to cackle. 

“Oh, sweetheart. It’s a good thing you’re pretty.” She said as she wiped a non-existent tear from below her eyes.

James’ eyes turned stormy as he locked his gaze on Marlene, but his voice remained somewhat relaxed as he addressed you. “Thanks again, Y/N. I’ll see you in class.” 

You smiled politely at him before making your way over to your house table.

“How ironic is it that such a ditz was sorted into the house that values learning, wisdom, wit, and intellect.” She snorted, either missing James’ glare or ignoring it entirely. 

“Marlene, I love you, you’re one of my best friends, we grew up together, you’re my sister from another mister, I would die for you.” he started, making sure she was looking at him before proceeding. “Do not make fun of my friends.”

Remus was certain his eyebrows had flown right off his forehead as he exchanged a look with his friends. Sirius and Peter seemed to be in agreement that they’d never seen James so stern as he sat down beside Sirius and started filling his plate. Unbeknownst to the boys, Lily was looking at James with a small smirk a look of respect from her end of the bench. 

“So, boys,” James began, “I was thinking, for our next brilliant prank...”

And just like that, James was back to planning pranks with the Marauders as if he hadn’t just blown the entire Gryffindor table’s minds. 

The rest of the month went about the same; you and James could be found around the castle together, which Sirius was more than happy to take the piss about, and none of James’ friends made fun of you anymore - genuinely fearing James’ wrath ever since he hexed some Hufflepuffs who made a passing comment about you one day. 

Remus didn’t think you noticed any of it, however; at least it didn’t appear that way. He found that quite remarkable. He found you quite remarkable.

He hated that. 

It’s not that Remus was a prude, but he didn’t like liking you. It made him feel icky – out of control, like he didn’t have a say in any of it. Casual hookups were much more easy and comfortable for him, it was easy to roll over the next morning, say thanks, and carry on like nothing.

But just sharing a small nod of acknowledgment with you made him giddy. 

He hated that.

He certainly hadn’t agreed to liking you – he had rules. Rules like – having sex with someone was fine, having feelings for someone was not. And he didn’t want to have sex with you!

Okay, that’s not necessarily true.

He didn’t not want to have sex with you, but that’s not what drew him to you. You seemed ethereal; otherworldly; perhaps a touch too pure.

Certainly, too pure for a werewolf.

Which is why he had rules in the first place; he would not allow someone to get tangled up in his curse of a life, to suffer through loving someone as awful as him. It was painful enough being Remus, he wasn’t going to curse someone to loving him. 

So, Remus made a plan: he would ignore this friendship between you and James and pretend like you didn’t exist, only being as polite as humanly possible to stay within James’ good graces. 

That plan was fucked to shit in potions. 

The Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff 7th year class was finishing up as the Slytherin’s and Gryffindor’s entered for their own class. Remus inwardly sighed as he spotted you across the room heading for the ingredient supply cupboard. Remus sighed again when some of your fellow housemates chuckled watching you struggle to carry the many ingredients on your own, none of which offered to help. 

“Oh! Are you headed to the supply closet? Mind taking these too?” A snarky little witch (Remus replaced that W with a B in his mind) said as she placed another vial on top of your load without waiting for your response. 

Remus had to give you credit, however, as all you did was smile kindly as you reconfigured the many vials and jars in your arms. 

Remus sighed outwardly, and loudly, as he made his way to follow you into the supply closet.

“Here, let me help you with that.” He muttered somewhat petulantly like he hadn't just volunteered his help unprompted as he relieved you of some vials and jars.

You looked at him with a face of surprise which quickly morphed into one of gratitude. Remus loved hated it.

“Thank you, Remus. That’s very kind of you.” You all but sung to him. Your voice sounded like angels. Fuck. 

Remus scoffed. “Not quite as nice as you, cleaning up for everyone else.” He muttered somewhat darkly.

You bobbed your head back-and-forth noncommittally. “Oh, I don’t mind so much. They do plenty for me in return.”

He turned to you, genuinely interested to hear what exactly those knob heads ever did for you. “Like what?”

You smiled to yourself as you continued placing ingredients in their rightful homes. “Well, they’re always keeping me on my toes by hiding my things around the castle. They must know how much I enjoy a good treasure hunt.”

Remus’ hand stopped in midair as he watched you continue to work. Did he hear you right? Did you actually believe these people were being kind? Did you think of those people as your friends?

“Or perhaps they don’t know that. Then in that case, I suppose the joke would be on them.” You said plainly as you turned your attention back to Remus, offering him a slightly pursed smile – like you were trying to hide the full extent of your joy at the thought, though the dimple that appeared on your left cheek gave you away.

It actually surprised a bark of laughter from him as he forced his hand to resume its task. “I suppose so.” He concurred. 

Remus heard a small tinkling sound and a gentle ‘oh’ escape your lips as a vial rolled into his foot. You both bent down to pick it up, but Remus was faster. As he went to hand you the offending vial, your fingers brushed gently.

For Remus, you may as well have set off a bomb.

Remus swore he felt every neuron in his body firing at the same time, his blood cells turned to lava and his veins turned to ice, his feet felt like they were fully rooted to the dungeon floor below him while his heart thrummed and took off in flight from his body. 

And through all of this, Moony was going feral. 

“Pack. Pack. Pack. Pack. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. MINE.”

Remus ripped his hand away from you like it burned – and in some ways it did – but the newfound space between your beings seemed to hurt even more. 

Remus’ chest was heaving, and his heart was going a mile a minute while Moony continued howling inside of his head. He could barely hear the classroom behind him through the blood rushing in his ears.

Remus could count many worst parts about this whole experience, but at this very moment, the worst part was your face.

Your head was cocked to the side like a confused cocker spaniel as your brows furrowed ever so slightly. You peered at Remus with a concerned gaze and your entire being just oozed kindness and understanding.

As if you could understand the clamoring of the 13-year-old werewolf living inside his brain screaming at him to lunge at you, bow down to you, fold you up and put you in his pocket, to crack open his ribcage and place you inside of him for eternity. What the fuck was wrong with him!?

“Are you alright, Remus?” You asked, so, so, so softly. In fact, you said it so softly that Remus was sure if Moony hadn’t just decided to dial into the exact channel of your frequency, he would have missed it completely. 

“Yes.” He breathed as he shook his head no. “No. I don’t know. I-”

You nodded sympathetically, as if Remus had said anything coherent at all. “That’s alright.”

Remus willed his lungs to take a deep breath. Because, was it really? Was it really alright? Because it sort of felt like Remus was dying; like his life was over as he knew it. 

“Ah, Miss. L/N, you should be off to your next class now, quickly. Mr. Lupin, please take your seat.” Mr. Slughorn said, poking his head briefly into the supply cupboard before retreating in much the same way.

You nodded politely at the teacher before offering Remus a smile.

“Thank you again for your help, Remus.” You said gently as you moved past him to retrieve your bag before exiting the classroom. Remus Moony wanted to follow you, begged to follow you. He could still smell you – you were everywhere. Fuck, Remus needs to shower.

Remus leaned his head against the cool stone of the dungeon walls. “What’s happening to me?” He moaned miserably to himself.

If only he knew. 

Continue to chapter two here.

Taglist: @hanniejji

[iamnmbr3]

crack au where in the beginning of book 3 when sirius comes to see harry in dog form he just...follows him onto the Knight Bus. and Harry's like 'well this is weird' but his life is weird. so whatever. and then the whole rest of the summer the dog just stays with him. since other people can see the dog he figures it's definitely not a Grim. And the dog seems pretty friendly. and well behaved. and he kinda likes. so harry's just shrugs and is like 'well this might as well happen' and when he meets up with his friends he tells them apparently he has a pet dog now.

can't decide if that would mean that book 3 still happens the same way as in canon or if peter takes one look at sirius and ditches and ron's always confused about why Scabbers ran away OR if Sirius eats Scabbers and consequently voldemort doesn't return and Harry has a very chill rest of his time at Hogwarts (except for the bit where he inevitably discovers that his dog is actually not a dog).

[sk1fanfiction]

I feel Voldemort torturing people for funsies is actually not super (book) canonical though, that's more Bella's thing.

Bellatrix: Potter's in the dungeon, may I torture him please My Lord?

Voldemort, looks up from his book/paperwork, waves hand dismissively : Sure, I don't care, go nuts

(but he would say it in a formal way obviously)

people saying i'm a "hard-core angst heavy hyper-realistic Harry being tortured at the hands of voldemort enthusiast" as if that isn't CANON. like bro have you even cracked open the books? or are you a fanon softboy simp voldemort enthusiast? you do realise the tomarrymort tags are for the CANON shippers, too, right?

[my-castles-crumbling]

Shocked

Based on a request by chill anon! Requests are open!

Harry has faced Voldemort empty-handed and alone in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, and yet he doesn't think he's ever felt more nervous than right now.

Standing in front of Ron and Hermione, both of them looking at him hesitantly, Draco at his elbow, he feels like this is, truly, the moment he will die. But he says the words. A little because he wants to stop lying to his friends and mostly because he wants to prove to Draco once and for all that he really does care.

"We're dating," he chokes out, steeling himself for the anger. The betrayal. The ire.

But neither of his best friends says a word. Ron just sighs and rolls his eyes at Hermione's triumphant expression before digging a galleon out of his pocket and handing it to her.

"I told you so!" she grins, pecking him on the cheek.

"Right, right, I know," Ron sighs but he smiles at her bragging.

Harry, however, is too busy processing their reaction. "Aren't you surprised?" he asks, feeling almost let down by their lack of emotion.

"Shocked, mate," Ron answers sarcastically, rolling his eyes and clapping both him and Draco on the shoulder before walking with Hermione out of the room.

[maddybthorne]

One of my favorite things in the Harry Potter fandom is how we all *know* Lucius Malfoy is so fucking tired of hearing about Harry Potter.

It (of course) starts when Harry Potter defeated Voldemort, the gossip and hero worship (or hatred) he could not escape, he’s a well known public figure he needs to be able to socialize with the general population. It’s fine, he told himself, it will die down in a few years. Then I will be free of Potter.

Then comes his son’s first year. September 1st 1991 he gets a letter from his son. The first words are “Harry Potter refused to be my friend” nothing about the sorting besides a footnote. No he gets five paragraphs detailing his son’s interaction with Potter. It’s fine, he told himself, my son will eventually get over this (he never does). Then I will be free of Potter.

Then Voldemort is resurrected. And all he talks about is Harry Potter. Capturing him, torturing him, killing him. Doesn’t matter what the conversation starts as. It will always turn back to Harry Potter. It’s fine, he tells himself, my lord will eventually kill the boy. Then I will be free of Harry Potter.

The battle of Hogwarts. Harry Potter is dead. Lucius feels a deep sense of relief for the first time in roughly 8 years. His son can’t keep complaining about the boy, the dark lord has succeeded and the general public will surely be banned from speaking of the boy. He’s finally free.

And then. After being hit by a killing curse in front of his eyes. Harry Potter takes off his invisibility cloak and shows everyone he’s alive. And then he wins the war.

And Lucius dies a bit on the inside. Not because his lord is dead. Not because he will probably be locked away in Azkaban.

No. It’s because now more than ever, everyone will be talking about Harry Fucking Potter.

I’d like to believe it drove him to a mental breakdown.

(And then, post war he’s just chilling as a hermit or something, maybe in Azkaban, relieved that he can’t really talk to people so they can’t bring up Harry Potter. And his son walks in and says he wants to introduce his new boyfriend.

And it’s Harry. Fucking. Potter.

He tries to jump out a window.)

[marauroon]

hello !!! can i request a right person, wrong time with siri? maybe they broke up because of the war... and the reason is because siri doesn't want to put the reader into danger and then they meet again, all grown up and they still have feelings for each other and Siri has to grovel to win reader back again? And it ends with a happy ending (please) (Siri was the one who broke the relationship and reader was really hurt) it's very long yet vauge 😅

A CALL TO ARMS — S.BLACK

sirius black was the love of your life, and you were his. but sometimes higher priorities—and deep-seeded anxiety—can get in the way. but the invisible string of fate always brings people back together.

cw — fem!reader, details of the first wizard of war, reader and sirius have a messy and complicated relationship, harsh arguments, character death mentions, happy ending

sirius black x reader || hurt/comfort || 6.2k || requests open!!

a/n — let’s just pretend sirius doesn’t get avada’d like three weeks after this fic ends

The war put a strain on everybody. Some people had to leave their families to join the fight, some had to hide away to protect themselves from the Death Eaters.

Some didn’t have a family, anyone to worry about them coming home at the end of the day.

They threw themselves into it the hardest.

Then there was you and Sirius, a pair of outcasts who found solitude in each other. A pair who paid no greater devotion than protecting the people that you cared about from the ravages of Voldemort’s uprising.

You were barely eighteen when you both joined the Order, fresh out of Hogwarts and straight into the line of fire after the group had been offered a spot in Voldemort’s army and refused, leaving every one of you with a target on your back.

By the time you were twenty it almost seemed fruitless, with James and Lily being sent into hiding to protect them and their son under Dumbledore’s direct orders under fear for their continued safety and a Fidelius Charm placed over them to keep them safe. Sirius denied being their secret keeper with the explanation of it being too obvious a choice. What a mistake that was.

Then order members started dying.

And it all began to fall apart.

The brass framed picture in the entrance of the Black family home offered Sirius no empathy as he escaped the bitterness that October was serving him, the laughing faces of his friends and self-proclaimed family only serving to make his already dwindling morale dampen further.

Twenty-two people in the picture. And how many remained? Fourteen. In the span of five months.

It was Dorcus and Marlene that really did him over, and he could barely so much as glance in the direction of their hopeful smiles without feeling like he was going to throw up.

The trudging of his feet up the wooden stairs was proof enough of his arrival for any present members of the Order to hear, too fatigued and all together bleak at the continued state he was living in to announce his presence verbally.

“Sirius, sweetheart, you’re home thank goodness,” Not even the warmth of your arms around him or the relief in your voice as you pulled his head into your shoulder could satiate him anymore.

You shouldn’t have to be relieved that he walked through the door.

You shouldn’t have to hug him like it’s your final goodbye every time he leaves.

Every time you leave.

You didn’t deserve that. And neither did he.

“Godric you’re freezing, come and sit down,” You pull Sirius into his childhood bedroom with all of the care of a feather floating on a pool of water, squeezing his hands in yours like you’re trying to transfer your own heat to him.

He follows you with no real resistance, though he doesn’t make any move by himself, and you have to push his shoulders down to get him to sit in front of the lit fireplace that would hopefully quell the chill echoing across his skin.

You help him remove his coat with a sigh, dark frown lines marking your features as you take a seat beside him and rest the side of your head against his shoulder, your hand gently tracing over his to capture his palm in your own. He doesn’t return the small squeeze of your fingers.

You can’t blame him for being so dismal, the situation was something that nobody could make it through without a gargantuan crack in their emotional shield, but seeing Sirius display his almost funereal sentiment so fervently without so much as a hint of a mask was devastating.

Displaying even the tiniest glimmer of hopefulness was what allowed the Order to survive for so long, and Sirius couldn’t even muster that.

“Harry said his first word today,” You try to keep the conversation positive, ignore the downfall of everything around you and keep focusing on the small wins. “Dada of course, apparently Lily was pretty miffed,” You punctuate your sentence with a small laugh, although it’s more pathetic than genuine and even you can tell you’re doing a horrible job of trying to uplift Sirius’ spirit.

“They sent over a picture, Remus has it if you’d like to see—”

“Just stop.” Sirius shakes his head sharply, pulling his hand from yours and standing with his back to you.

“Sirius—”

“I don’t know why you keep trying to pretend that everything’s okay, it’s not. Our friends are dying and you’re acting like its completely fine.” There’s more malice in his voice than he’s intending, and logically you know that he doesn’t really mean to get so angry at you. It wasn’t you that was the problem, it was the world in which you were living.

But logic can often times get overridden by other facets.

“I am trying to stop anyone else from dying.” Your words are more desperate than harsh, and they’re not laced in anger like Sirius’ are, but they carry just the same amount of conviction. “If we lose hope then we may as well just hand ourselves over…”

There’s a stuttered exhale as you trail off, and Sirius swears he hears your voice crack as you try to take his hand in yours again. “I can’t bear to see you like this…”

“You should leave the Order.”

You’re almost not sure you heard him.

“What?”

“You don’t belong here, you’re not fit for this,” He sounds almost resigned, and his shoulders drop just enough that you’re not sure he really believes what he’s saying. “You should leave before you get hurt.”

There’s a moment where all you can really do is let out a breath of astonishment, and then there’s an overwhelming need to defend yourself against Sirius’ accusation. “I am perfectly fit for this, Dumbledore agreed that—”

“Well I don’t agree with it!” He cuts you off harshly, turning around so that you can see the anguish that’s drenching his features. “People are dying, our friends are dying, and you are on the goddamn list of whose next.”

He takes your upper arms in his hand and shakes you like it’s going to make you see his point, practically shouting at you as he desperately tries to get you to see his point of view. “You are a brilliant witch, and you are in so much danger that it makes me want to rip my heart out so I don’t have to worry about you any more—”

His rant doesn’t stop once his hands halt, and they stay gripped uncomfortably tight around your biceps to the point where you’re sure it’ll bruise. “Dorcus died because she was brilliant, Marlene died because her father was a muggle, you are like the two of them wrapped up in a package practically serving yourself up to the Death Eaters every time you step out of this goddamn house and I cannot take it anymore.”

Sirius practically pants as his yelling comes to a halt, and he almost immediately regrets getting riled up as he sees the reflection of the fireplace in your glassed over eyes.

“I love you. I love you so much and I can’t live like this anymore.” His hands move from your arms to cup the sides of your face, and you flinch at the contact like you’re afraid he’s going to hurt you.

It breaks Sirius’ heart.

“The Order is falling apart love… I don’t want you to be here when it collapses,”

You pull his hands from your face with yours at his wrists, shaking your head as you blink through clouds of tears. “I’m not leaving the Order, Sirius. You really think I would abandon my friends like that? My family? You?”

“Then I’ll make one of the hard choices for you,” Sirius lets his hands fall to his sides on your prompting, taking a step back from you to hide them in the pockets of his jeans. “I’m breaking up with you.”

“What—” There’s nothing but absolute betrayal written across your face, and Sirius almost breaks down immediately. “Sirius—”

“If you want to stay here and watch shit hit the fan then be my guest, but I will not put myself through watching your downfall.” He doesn’t give you the courtesy of replying before opening and slamming the door behind him as he leaves, but you’re not sure you’d be able to articulate anything even if he did, your only response being the start of a sob that echoes off of the empty walls and back into your ears to amplify your own anguish.

You move your belongings out of his room that same evening, taking refuge under Remus’ open arms as you cried yourself into an uneasy slumber, so emotionally exhausted that you could barely formulate any sense of coherency.

Lily and James died two days later.

The news hit you like a truck when Dumbledore relayed it to you, and whilst most of the Order were left in a blanket of shock, Sirius took off in a rage before he could even finish his sentence.

It was enough for you to push the grief aside to not cost you any more.

“Sirius wait—” You weave your way through the others and past Dumbledore to rush after him, the first words either of you had spoken in the other’s direction since the argument. “Where on earth do you think you’re going the Death Eaters might still be there—”

“I hope they are.” Sirius’ tone drips with venom as he pulls his motorcycle helmet from the coat rack at the front door, and you just barely catch his wrist before he has the chance to leave.

“You’re going on a suicide mission—”

“They murdered my brother, I have nothing to lose.” He again leaves the conversation with a slammed door, and you don’t know whether the possibility of his death or the fact that he’d seemingly accepted it hurt you more.

He had nothing to lose.

It was the biggest insult he could’ve possibly left you with.

And it’s all he did leave you with.

For twelve years.

You grieved the loss of Sirius like you did James and Lily, like he too had entered into an early grave of which he would never return. Azkaban may as well have been.

You were angry at first, disgustingly loathing the thought of what those twelve poor muggles had to endure as their final moments. You were less empathetic towards Peter’s fate, although your grief for him was replaced with a deep-seeded betrayal that sunk into your muscles all the same.

Then it settled into an uneven weight in the bottom of your chest, something that you carried with you from that point onward.

You moved out of England soon after, with nothing but a silent vow to Remus that if Voldemort were to ever return, that you’d be there, a final standing against the allegiance that stole your life from you.

You couldn’t stay there anymore, every street of London reminded you of him, of them, of all the people that you lost and how the prime years of your young adulthood were unceremoniously ripped from you under the false belief that you could actually make a difference.

As weeks turned into months, and then into years, there were days that passed where you didn’t think of what happened, of how your previous life had fallen apart and left you as a shell of yourself, and eventually, you managed to pick up the pieces and live your life like it hadn’t happened.

Apart from a single shard of your heart that had lodged itself at 12 Grimmauld Place, underneath the black silk sheets you and Sirius once shared.

You were thirty three when a letter from R.J.Lupin was sent through the letterbox of your house, and it was like those twelve years of growth and acceptance disappeared in an instant.

—

‘I hope this letter finds you well, I know I promised to contact you only for something of the upmost urgence regarding the resurgence of you know who, but I believe this is appropriately important.

Wormtail is alive. He was the one who caused those muggles to die without reason. Which leaves no question of Padfoot’s innocence.

I don’t know if you have kept up with the wizarding news, but he escaped from Azkaban, and is in a safe and secure location known only by the Order.

I understand if this news is too much for you to digest, but he has asked me personally for your consideration in returning to the place where everything began.

Yours sincerely,

R.J.Lupin’

—

The aftermath of your reading was a mess of shallow breaths and an elevated heart rate.

Panic.

You hadn’t felt so horrible since the day that James and Lily had died, the day one of your closest friends betrayed you and the love of your life was taken away presumably to never be seen again.

And now he was just out there? You were just adjusting to living without him, and now he was being thrust back into your life by his own doing.

He threw you away right before your house of cards toppled, and now he was trying to worm his way back into your life?

It took you almost three weeks of staring at the sheet of parchment before you made a decision, and it ended with the letter going up in flames and you watching on with a sunken expression, no tears left to cry over the man who’d ruined you.

All of those months where you’d pondered, where you’d asked yourself over and over again what might’ve happened if you’d have just not spoken to Sirius that day, if you’d just let him rest like he’d obviously wanted rather than try pathetically to lift his mood.

If it might’ve meant he would regard you as something to live for and stop him from blindly running off to avenge James and Lily without a second thought.

All of it went straight down the drain. Because you could have him back if you wanted. But you didn’t. You didn’t want to go back and see him again because the minute his name invaded your mind all you could think about was that god awful argument and it’s aftermath.

And it ripped you apart every single time.

—

“She’s not coming Pads…” Remus’ hand on Sirius’ shoulder was almost apprehensive as he gave it a soft squeeze.

It was almost three months of having to watch Sirius treat the front door like it was his lifeline, his head turning at the smallest creak of the wood in the fruitless hope that when it opened you would be on the other side.

“I know…” Sirius lets out a small, pathetic laugh as he rakes his fingers through his hair, his facade of indifference threatening to break with every breath he took. “Can’t blame me for trying though right?” His voice betrays his devastation, tone wavering and quiet, cracking when he tries to push it to sound more convicting.

“Pads…”

“I’m fine,” Sirius shakes his head with a dismissive hand, clearing his throat and blinking away the starts of tears from the corners of his eyes. “I’m gonna go get some sleep, gonna need all I can get if we’re gonna fight these sons of bitches hey?” Sirius nudges Remus with his elbow as he plays a characature of his former self, although it’s poorly executed at best.

“Yeah…” Remus consciously suppresses a sympathetic sigh that tries to escape his mouth, pressing his lips together. “Goodnight Pads,”

“G’night Moony,”

—

There’s eighteen months of radio silence before another letter is slotted through your door, and you have half the mind to burn it on sight when the familiar red seal is left face up on your patio tiling, but the handwriting on the back wasn’t Remus’, and it was definitely not Sirius’ either.

The scrawl of your address was almost unmistakably Dumbledore’s, and you were left in an emotional state of uneven limbo as you debated why he of all people would be personally sending you a letter.

Logically, you already knew the reason, but your brain chose to ignore that logic as you ripped the envelope open, only for that denial to be thrown right back at your face once the seal of the Order inked itself into the folded parchment.

You didn’t even need to read the letter to know what was inside it.

Three words.

Invitatio ad arma.

A call to arms.

You barely remember packing your bags, leaving the sense of normalcy you’d built over the past fourteen years to throw yourself back into the line of fire and more devastatingly, right back to Sirius Black.

The train ride to England almost felt like a fever dream, your body left in a state of dissociation where you couldn’t discern whether your actions were real or just a part of some vivid nightmare that you couldn’t wake from no matter how much you tossed and turned.

And by the time you reached the front door of number 12 Grimmauld Place it felt like you were right back where you started, just barely twenty one thrust into a war that could leave you in your grave at any unfortunate minute.

It felt almost foreign to you as you entered, the hallways that once proved to be your substitute home reduced to unfamiliar sights covered in dust and peeling wallpaper. There was no brass lamps to warm the sight, no picture of your closest friends on the wall, not even the mirror that had been hung beside the door had survived, reduced to a half shattered mess that hadn’t been replaced under higher priorities.

“Oh—” The slightly surprised sentiment draws you away from your almost depressing nostalgia, drawn instead towards an almost perfect capture of teenage James Potter, down to the slanted circular glasses sat over his nose bridge.

It’s enough for you to genuinely consider for a second that you’d actually stepped back in time, right into your graduation year when you were all so young and full of hope.

But it couldn’t be James. As much as your heart desperately wished it was.

“You’re another member of the original Order of the Phoenix right?” The boy takes a few steps towards you, wonder still lingering in his eyes despite the film of knowledge that cloud them. Knowledge of just how unfortunately dark the world actually is. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m—”

”Harry…” Your interruption is barely more than a breath of air as you take in the sight of one of your closest friend’s child, a child that he never got to see grow into an almost perfect replica of himself. “You look just like your father…”

There’s a mix of shock and a small amount of sadness in his expression at your statement, and it’s enough for the glimpses of Lily to shine through in his demeanour. “Thank you,”

It’s enough for your eyes to well with tears, and you blink them away with a small clearing of your throat to regain your composure in front of the boy. He didn’t need to see you cry over the fact that he looked like one of your dead friends with the personality of another. That wasn’t fair.

“It’s nice to finally meet you Harry, properly,” You extend your hand almost hesitantly as you introduce yourself, and he takes it graciously in his own with a small sympathetic smile. Being proxy comforted by a teenager, how pathetic.

“It’s nice to meet you too, my parents have good friends,” You give the boy a small nod with a small, sad smile, and he mirrors it himself in turn.

“I’m so sorry, you didn’t deserve any of this,” You let your hand rest on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly in a terrible attempt at consoling the sadness riddling his expression. “You’re just a boy Harry,”

“I know,” He gives a small sigh and a more confident smile, sympathy lingering in the creases of his cheeks in a perfectly Lily fashion. “I’m sorry for your loss too, I know they probably meant a great deal to you,”

“They still do, that’s why I’m here,”

“Thank you,” He sounds more confident in his thanks this time, more determined, and the remnants of his parents continue to show on full display as his focus returns to the reason you’d arrived here in the first place. “We’re about to sit down for dinner, join us?”

“I’ll be there shortly,” You give Harry a small nod and another small squeeze of his shoulder before excusing yourself up the stairs to leave your belongings.

—

“Good evening everyone,” Your voice is taught and awkwardly flat as you push open the door to the dining room, and you stand there with your hands wrung together behind your back as your eyes flicker over the room.

There are so many people that the table is almost entirely too crowded, and a mix of familiar and unfamiliar faces in your presence, although those who do recognise you leave their seats almost immediately to greet you properly.

“It’s good to see you,” Remus reaches you first, wrapping you in a secure hug that you happily return with your own.

“It’s good to see you too, Remus, it’s been too long,”

“Welcome back, we need all of the human shields we can get,” Mad Eye’s reuinionative statement is much less heart felt, but you give him a small laugh and a “Thank you,” nonetheless.

Then there was Sirius. Stood at his chair, not daring to walk into your little bubble under fear of whatever consequences that might come from it.

He looked almost as you remembered him, but he was leaner, more gaunt, his hair more unruly and his skin even more paper-white than the almost impossibly pale complexion of his teenage years.

He was still Sirius, but he was different, and it took less than half a second of eye contact for him to realise that you were different too.

“Welcome back,” His voice is hesitant, almost catching in his throat as his brain catches up to the fact that you’re stood in front of him, less than ten feet away after all of those years he’d spent desperately dreaming of what it would feel like to have you in his arms again.

Now you were here. And you were a stranger.

“Thank you,”

Dinner progresses pretty much how you expected, a mix of awkwardly introducing yourself to the Order’s new members and horrifically failing at avoiding eye contact with Sirius from across the table.

Then the topic of interest moves to the Order’s plans, and things seem to spin into a downwards spiral all too quickly.

“We don’t have enough members to reliably be able to pull this off,” The argument was entirely valid from a logical standpoint, a weakness that quite a few of the Order seemed to have choice opinions about.

“Yeah well we’re not getting any new members are we?” Sirius leans back in his chair exasperatedly. “With the way Fudge is portraying Dumbledore and the lack of official credibility, we’re on our own here, there’s no use in waiting around,”

“I’m inclined to agree, we all know you know who isn’t going to waste any time,

“It’s reckless,” You shake your head with furrowed eyebrows. “We not ready to face something like that head on.”

“We’re never going to be ready,” Sirius shakes his head with a sigh. “We have to take action before he has the chance to build himself back to where he was all those years ago.”

“Sirius is right, we need to do something,” Sirius gestures towards Harry’s response like it’s the final nail in the coffin against your reasoning.

“Harry, sweetheart, I appreciate your enthusiasm but you don’t know the extent of what we’re dealing with,” Your voice is as gentle as it is assertive, not wanting to put him down too much but also wanting to make sure he understood the true extent of what was going on.

“He killed my friend in front of me—”

“And he’s killed dozens of ours,” You shake your head softly but firmly. “Jumping in without a plan is only going to make things worse, trust me.”

He seems more than a little shot down, but he gives you a small nod of understanding nonetheless as he backs down from his standing.

Sirius doesn’t pay you the same mind.

“So you’re suggesting we just wait in hiding for what, forever? We need to act,”

“The last time you ‘acted’, Sirius, you spent twelve years in Azkaban for it.” Your rebuttal holds none of the softness that was present when you were talking to Harry, and you can see it eroding the calcified shield behind Sirius’s eyes.

“That wasn’t my fault,” Sirius presses his teeth together to keep himself from raising his voice, his back straightening alongside his defensiveness. “At least I’m trying to do something, if you don’t want to contribute maybe you shouldn’t be a part of the Order at all,”

“I will not have this argument with you again Sirius!” His chastation seems to finally get under your skin as you rise yourself from your chair with your hands on the dining table, ignorantly ignoring the uncomfortable gazes of everyone else present as you’re forced back into that evening fourteen years go all over again.

“Okay, I think it’s time we called it a night,” Remus, seemingly the only normally functioning person at the table, rises from his chair slowly, taking your shoulders in his hands to guide you away from the group and calm you down.

“Yes right you are Remus,” Molly stands up with a nod that’s almost too enthusiastic clasping her hands together. “Off to bed, all of you,”

You can practically hear the lingering exasperation in Remus’ breathing as he leads you up the stairs and into the room he was staying in, and the second he shut the door behind you you knew what you were in for.

“You need to speak to him.”

“I know,”

“Properly.”

“I know,”

You’re sure the sigh you let out echoes across the house’s first floor, and it’s enough for Remus’ eyes to shift into displaying a concerning amount of sympathy in your direction.

“He misses you, you know,” Remus takes a seat on the edge of his bed with a soft sigh. “He said the thought of seeing you again was the only thing that got him through Azkaban,”

“Yeah well he wouldn’t’ve gone there in the first place if he hadn’t’ve been such a hot-headed twat,” You wouldn’t lie that Remus’ statement didn’t hit you a little where it hurt, but the lingering anger towards Sirius’ situation was clearly still more forefront in your mind.

“It’s a carried trait in all of us ’m‘fraid,” Remus tilts his head knowingly, and you have half the mind to roll your eyes at the clear implication of what he’s saying.

But he isn’t wrong, not really.

“You know where to find him,”

There’s a small moment of silence, then a sigh. “Do I have to?”

“The longer you wait the worse it’ll be,”

Sometimes you hate how logical Remus can be.

With another sigh and a loll of your head, you reluctantly stuff your hands in your pockets and turn towards the bedroom door, muttering a soft—and only half genuine—“thanks,” in his direction as you leave.

The wooden door that barricaded you from the former love of your life felt more like steel than anything else. Tall, dark, and intimidating to the point where you couldn’t even consciously lift your hand to knock against it under the blood rushing behind your ears from how fast your heart was pounding in your ribcage.

It really shouldn’t be so scary, you’d spent weeks, months in that room when you’d originally joined the Order, yet now it felt entirely foreign to you.

Maybe it was the fact that the wood was slowly rotting away with how unkept it was. Maybe it was the knowledge of what—who—was on the other side of it. Or maybe, your mind was just so completely and utterly fucked that the idea of confronting the consequences of your own actions was more nerve-wracking than the idea of standing face to face in a death match with Voldemort himself.

You stand there staring dumbly at the door for almost two minutes, and when it opens your eyes widen like it’s a new form of magic that you’d never encountered.

Sirius halts halfway out the door, arm stretched straight with the doorknob still in hand as his face seems to go through an insurmountable number of emotions in the half-second it takes for him to realise you’re there.

You don’t say anything as you make eye-contact, head immediately ducking downward and stepping aside so that he can leave without you blocking his path, but he just stays there, staring at you like you had been the door, and it was becoming increasingly uncomfortable by the second.

You clear your throat with a feigned cough, pursing your lips together with a muttered “excuse me,” as you turn around to leave, but Sirius catches your wrist in his hand before you even manage to take the first step.

“Wait—” He loosens his grasp almost immediately after he feels a resistance, but his eyes convey just how determined he was to keep you where you were. “Let’s talk, please?”

There’s a hint of desperation in his tone, and you almost crumble on that alone, but you manage to maintain your composure with a small shake of your head and a gentle pull of your wrist from his hand. “I don’t think it’s worth it Sirius, not anymore,”

“Don’t say that, we can fix this,” Sirius mirrors your head shake with his own. “You just need to talk to me,”

“I tried talking to you Sirius, and look where it got us,” You gesture between the two of you with exasperation in your tone.

There’s a small pause where the two of you share and almost identical mask of composure over your agony.

“It just wasn’t meant to be, that’s it,”

“That’s not true,” Sirius shakes his head again, more confidently this time, and his inky black curls bounce against his shoulders like they’re trying to torment you with the memories of your fingers raking through them. “We can fix this, us, we just have to try,”

“I don’t want to argue with you anymore,” You lower your gaze away from his so you don’t have to see the heartbreak in his irises. “Especially not over this…”

“Then don’t, let’s work this out properly, like adults,” He reaches out his hand cautiously towards yours, and you flinch away as your fingers make contact. “Please,”

“Sirius…”

“I’m sorry.” Sirius lets out a heavy, pathetic breath as he retreats his hand to run it through his hair. “I am so sorry. I made the biggest mistake of my life and it cost me the person that I love more than life and I have suffered the consequences of it every day for the last fourteen years.”

Sirius lets his hands fall to his side with a start, voice beginning to tremble under the strain of his emotions as he desperately tries to voice everything that he’d bottled up over the last decade and a half before you leave him to rot in his own depression again. “I spent every hour in Azkaban imagining what it would be like to see you again, to hear your voice, to hold you and tell you that you’re the one thing in this goddamn hell that we live in that actually makes anything worth fighting for,”

The breaths between his words are shallow and weak, and your expression starts to blur as his eyes glass over with the beginnings of tears. “I love you so much, and I’m so— sorry that you had to live through everything I forced on you and I just—“ He takes a sharp, stuttering breath in. “—I need you to know that I will spend the rest of my life devoted to you, to correcting what I’ve done even if you don’t so much as spare me a glance,”

He’s not sure when the tears started running over his eyelids, but he can feel them fall in drops to dapple the ivory skin of his fingers. “And if I die tomorrow, I’ll take whatever punishment hell has to give me so that you can rest easy,”

The end of his rant is echoed by laboured breathing and a horrific attempt at muffling a sob that leaves his throat, bouncing off the walls of the hallway to settle into your muscles as you stand stationary in an astonished silence.

You’re not sure what to say. You’re not sure there’s anything you can say. How on earth are you supposed to respond to something like that? Something so desperate and raw and real?

Sirius Black, after fourteen years of radio silence, still loved you like you’d never parted.

“Sirius…”

And you’d be absolutely damned if you weren’t the same.

“I forgive you…”

It’s like a tsunami of relief ravages Sirius’ body at your words, barely a whisper escaping your mouth but invading his ear canals like a nuclear explosion, and it’s enough for that sliver of composure remaining to erode under the waves of his tears until he’s sobbing into his hands, hunched over with trembling shoulders as he lets everything go all at once.

“I’m so sorry—“

His final apology is doused in so much heartbreak it might as well rip your heart right out of your chest, and your at his side almost immediately, gently pulling his hand from his face to pull his head into your shoulder with a soft shush of consolation.

He clings to you like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance to, tears damping the shoulder of your shirt and his arms wrapped so tightly around your torso you’re not sure he intends to ever let go. You’re not sure you’d complain if he didn’t.

That familiar musky scent of cigarettes and faux leather hits your nose once he’s close enough, and that’s where you break too, silent tears streaming down your face as you bury your nose in his hair.

You’re eternally grateful that everyone on this floor of the house is already asleep, either that or just polite enough not to interrupt the two of you out in the hallway, because the state the both of you were in was definitely not meant to be seen by other people.

A desolate, broken side to the two of you only trusted in the company of the other.

“Stay with me tonight, please…” His plea is barely more than a mutter against your shoulder, and you’re sure he wouldn’t even have to ask to know what your answer would be.

And so you find yourself back where you started, tangled up underneath the silky black sheets of Sirius’ bed in the warmth of his embrace, that tiny shard of your heart finally recovered and back in it’s rightful place.

Right where you belong.

[rosesareredrosa]

The Strongest Weapon

Mattheo Riddle x reader

Summary: based on this ask <33

w/c: 1344

The cold wind whipped through the corridors of Hogwarts as you made your way to the Astronomy Tower, your heart heavy with worry. Mattheo Riddle, the boy you had come to love, had grown distant, a shadow of the person you once knew. His usual charm and warmth had been replaced by a chilling detachment, as though something dark was gnawing away at his soul.

You found him at the top of the tower, staring out at the night sky. The stars glittered like distant, unreachable hopes, casting an eerie light on Mattheo's tense features. His dark curls were tousled by the wind, but he didn't seem to notice. He was lost in thought, his brow furrowed, his jaw clenched. You could feel the weight of something terrible pressing down on him.

"Mattheo," you called softly, stepping closer. He didn’t turn to face you, but you could see the tension in his shoulders. "Please, talk to me. I’m worried about you."

He remained silent for a moment, and when he finally spoke, his voice was cold and distant. "There’s nothing to talk about."

Your heart ached at his words. This wasn’t the Mattheo you knew—the boy who had once made you laugh until you cried, who had held your hand when you were scared, who had whispered sweet promises of a future together. This was someone else entirely, someone shaped by the darkness you feared.

"There is," you insisted, taking another step forward. "You’ve been distant, withdrawn. I can see that something’s wrong. Whatever it is, we can face it together."

Finally, he turned to you, his eyes dark and stormy, filled with an inner turmoil that sent a shiver down your spine. "You wouldn’t understand," he muttered, his voice laced with bitterness. "This isn’t your fight."

"Is it because of your father?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly. The very mention of Lord Voldemort made your blood run cold, but you couldn’t let fear stop you. "What has he done to you?"

Mattheo’s expression hardened at the mention of his father. "He’s given me a choice," he said quietly, his voice filled with a mix of anger and despair. "Join him, or suffer the consequences. There’s no escaping him. Not for me, and not for you if you stay with me."

The words hung heavy in the air, each one a knife to your heart. You had always known that Mattheo’s lineage was a curse he bore in silence, but you had never imagined it would come to this.

"You don’t have to follow him," you said desperately, reaching out to grasp his arm. "We can leave, Mattheo. We can run far away, somewhere he can’t find us. We’ll figure it out together."

He shook his head, pulling away from your touch, his eyes filled with a painful resignation. "You don’t understand. If I refuse him, he’ll kill me. And if he knows about us, he’ll kill you too. I won’t let that happen."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you saw the agony in his expression, the internal battle he was fighting between the person he wanted to be and the person his father was forcing him to become. "But what about you? What happens when you lose yourself to him? I can’t lose you to that darkness."

His eyes softened for a moment, and you saw a flicker of the Mattheo you knew and loved. But it was quickly replaced by a cold determination. "I’m doing this to protect you," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I love you too much to let him take you away from me."

Before you could respond, a cold, sinister voice echoed through the tower, making your blood run cold.

"Ah, young love. So fragile, so naive."

You spun around to see the shadowy figure of Lord Voldemort himself emerging from the darkness, his serpentine face twisted into a cruel smile. His presence was suffocating, filling the room with an aura of pure evil.

"Father," Mattheo said, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and defiance.

Voldemort’s cold, red eyes flickered to you, and his smile widened. "I see you’ve been distracted, my son. This… attachment is making you weak."

Mattheo stepped in front of you, shielding you with his body. "She’s not part of this," he said firmly. "Leave her out of it."

Voldemort chuckled, a sound that sent chills down your spine. "On the contrary, she’s very much part of this. You see, Mattheo, love is a weakness, and weaknesses must be eliminated."

Before you could react, Voldemort raised his wand, his movements quick and deliberate. "Crucio."

The curse hit you like a bolt of lightning, sending waves of excruciating pain coursing through your body. You screamed, collapsing to the ground as the agony ripped through you. It was as if your very nerves were on fire, burning away every thought, every hope, every dream.

Through the blinding pain, you heard Mattheo shout, his voice filled with desperation and rage. "No! Stop it! Please, stop!"

But Voldemort’s twisted smile only grew as he watched you writhe in agony. "Do you see now, Mattheo? This is what happens when you allow yourself to care. It makes you vulnerable, and vulnerability is death."

The curse lifted, leaving you gasping for breath, your body trembling violently. You felt Mattheo’s arms around you, holding you close, his hands shaking as he tried to comfort you.

"I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice broken. "I’m so sorry…"

But Voldemort wasn’t finished. He stepped closer, his wand still raised, his eyes gleaming with malice. "You have a choice to make, Mattheo. Join me, and she will be spared. Refuse, and watch her die."

Mattheo’s breath hitched, and you could feel his internal struggle, the war raging inside him. He looked down at you, his eyes filled with pain, and you knew what he was thinking. If he joined Voldemort, he would be lost forever, consumed by the same darkness that had taken his father. But if he refused, you would pay the price.

"No," you whispered, your voice weak but determined. "Don’t do it, Mattheo. Don’t let him control you."

Tears welled up in his eyes as he cradled your face in his hands. "I can’t lose you," he said, his voice cracking.

"You won’t," you said, forcing yourself to smile through the pain. "We’ll find another way. We’ll fight this together."

But the decision was already made. Mattheo stood slowly, turning to face his father, his jaw set in a hard line. "I’ll join you," he said quietly, his voice filled with a bitter resolve. "But only if you spare her."

Voldemort’s smile widened, a cruel, triumphant expression that made your blood run cold. "Very well," he said, lowering his wand. "But remember, Mattheo, this is only the beginning. Love will not save you in the end. It will only destroy you."

With a flick of his wand, Voldemort disappeared into the shadows, leaving you and Mattheo alone in the tower, the echoes of his words lingering in the air.

Mattheo collapsed beside you, his face buried in his hands, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. You reached out, your hand trembling as you gently touched his arm.

"It’s going to be okay," you whispered, though you weren’t sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself.

But deep down, you knew that nothing would ever be the same. The darkness had claimed a part of Mattheo, and you didn’t know if you would ever be able to bring him back from it. But you would try. You would fight for him, for the love that still burned between you, even in the face of the overwhelming darkness.

As you held each other in the cold, empty tower, you made a silent vow to yourself: you wouldn’t let Voldemort win. No matter what it took, you would find a way to save Mattheo, to bring him back to the light.

Because love might be a weakness, but it was also the strongest weapon you had.

[cherryslyce]

Enclosed To You | Regulus Black

Synopsis: To cope with your lonely marriage to Regulus, you begin to pen letters to him without the intention of ever sending them. As you both grow closer, you decide to continue the hobby until the very end.

Pairing: Regulus Black x Reader

Notes: I got this idea just as I was about to fall asleep. This fic switches perspectives a bit, so I hope I blended it seamlessly.

Regulus Black prided himself in his innate ability to read through fake pleasantries, steel gaze rippling through any fool willing to throw in their chance at trying to deceive the young heir. 

With the sudden void torn into his life at his brother’s department from the family, Regulus found his heart crystallizing to preserve what little warmth he had left of his childhood. Gone were the sunny days spent in ignorance bliss, now marred by the ricochet of his brother’s insatiable foolhardy nature. 

Make perfect marks. The Noble House of Black will not be tainted by academic shortcomings 

Bring pride to your house and win the Quidditch Cup, but be vigilant on the field. There is no use for a cripple as the Black Lord—no, the House of Black will never face such ignominy. 

Never forget, there is no pity given for incompetence. Do well to remember the proper etiquette.

Condemn those who have turned against what we stand for—who have turned against our family. 

Do not bring up that vile brat’s name. 

Do better. 

We did not raise you to be so fallible. 

Toujours pur, Regulus. Do not forget yourself. 

Do not fail us, do not desecrate everything we have worked for. 

Be the perfect heir. 

His mother’s words were imprinted into his head, carving themselves into every fiber of his being until not even a modicum of imperfection was plausible.

He would become the perfect heir. 

He would ignore the burning ache in his chest that pried into his soul. He would squash the buds of hope that planted themselves into his head. He would sharpen his mind and hone his stone mask. He would dance with whoever his parents wanted, and he would pretend to care for what the other heirs had to say. 

He would be what his parents expected him to be. 

He would forget his dreams of being like his big brother. He would forget the needless longing for freedom. 

Which is why he allowed his mother to do as she pleased – even now, as she finalized the contracts of his marriage arrangement. 

It was a particularly bright day, the singing of birds drifted through the air and danced into the somber parlor. Regulus was intent on scanning through the paper in front of him as to avoid looking into his father’s expectant eyes, lips drawn together to hide his vexation. 

You were a familiar face, and Regulus vaguely recalls you as a classmate of his, a quiet and diligent student. He hadn’t even known you came from a prominent family, and he was surprised that his parents would agree to the pairing as it was apparent that your family was neutral and not dark-aligned. 

He almost allowed himself to frown; you looked unshaken by the arrangement. 

Yet, he was barely able to contain himself from walking out. He was far from thrilled.

He would fulfill his duties, no more and no less. 

He was not going to paint an illusion of love, and he hoped you would not be foolish enough to believe him desiring to provide as much.

With that resolve in mind, Regulus draws the quill into his hand and signs the contract. 

The months flush by in periods of chill and gloom, sunshine becoming a rarity as Voldemort continued to infiltrate and pollute sectors of Magical Britain with his influence. Despite how stressful his studies were, Regulus carved time to research the growing support behind Voldemort and the benefits to joining the movement. 

Regulus does not even wait until after graduation to be marked. It took a little nudge from his father to come to the decision, but Regulus has hope that perhaps Voldemort would be able to preserve the sanctity of blood purity and the immemorial wizarding traditions. 

You vehemently disapprove of his decision, but Regulus pays little mind to your opinion on the matter. He would ensure your safety, and keep you away from Voldemort if that was what you wished for, but he would not turn away from his desires because of your opinion. 

Inklings of hope for a warm relationship recede and wither by the sixth month of marriage. Regulus allows you freedom to wander about, granting you access to endless rows of grimoires, bottomless springs of galleons, tireless shipments of luxuries, and anything an aristocratic pureblood could dream of. 

He gives you everything you want, but one. His heart is hidden in the unrelenting walls he’s constructed, dangling in the darkness as you bat around futilely in search. 

It was only a few months after you and Regulus had graduated, and the marginal distance between you and the boy had hardly changed despite the fact that you were both living together now. Regulus threw himself into servitude under Voldemort, and he often was missing from the chilly manor. 

You find hobbies to distract yourself from the suffocating loneliness and dejection that trail you like a shadow. Deciding to pick up a childhood activity of yours, you begin to vent all your suppressed emotions onto paper.

Regulus is faintly aware of your newfound interest in journaling. He catches you more than a handful of times with your head buried in a worn journal, quill flying furiously across the pages as you furrow your brows in deep concentration. 

The heir is not sure when he started observing you so closely, but he is pleased by what he discerns. He admires your independence and proclivity for research, surprised by your ability to disappear for hours in a sea of books. 

Regulus begins to consider his options after realizing you wouldn’t try and force him to play the role of a doting husband. It would be counterproductive to continue putting a wedge between the both of you, and he wonders if a friendship is possible. 

He decides to spark up small conversations during your meals together to ease the tension.

At first, the chats are formulaic and polite, confusing you greatly as you observe the rigidness in the boy's frame. You weren’t sure what he was seeking to gain from your conversations since he seemed so stiff from just interacting with you. 

“Regulus, was there something you wanted from me?” You don’t lift your gaze from your plate as you bite the bullet, curiosity getting the better of you. 

The boy across from you tilts his head imperceptibly, “Not particularly.” 

Regulus had never asked anything of you before, and you had assumed that he simply felt uncomfortable with directly requesting you for something. As you peer up at his confused face, you are left breathless as his expression reflects his youth, mouth tugged in a boyish frown. 

You find yourself sitting up straighter, “Oh. Well, I’ve enjoyed our conversations thus far, so I just wanted to repay you.” Regulus’ eyes light up in realization at your remark, and you see him slowly consider his next words. 

“No worries. I figured that it would be beneficial to grow accustomed to each other despite how unconventional our situation may be.” His diplomatic words are paired with a small nod, and you find yourself leaning forward in interest. 

At the beginning of your marriage, you were deeply troubled by Regulus’ indifference towards pursuing a romantic connection, but as time passed, you grew to understand the situation. The marriage was solely for political reasons, and you could hardly complain since Regulus always treated you with respect and dignity. Secretly, you still held onto hope that he would warm up to you, but you knew how deeply affected he was by the disgracing of his brother. 

Nodding in agreement, you feel a small smile grace your face, “How unexpected. I’m in agreement.” 

From that moment onward, Regulus put forth an effort to get to know you, no longer barred by classes or personal reservations. The sudden feeling of companionship that warmed your body seemed to inspire energy into the dim manor, every room permeated with a newfound vitality. 

Your practice of writing down your thoughts in your journal soon shifted along with this change. The leather book in your hand quaked faintly as you finished up the last lines of your words. Craning back to reread the page, you almost want to vanish it as doubt takes root in your stomach. 

You had decided that you wanted to pen a small letter to Regulus, in part to express gratitude for his initiative, and also to perhaps become closer to him. As your eyes trail through the last line, you groan inaudibly as you feel your resolve crumble. 

Your ‘From, Y/N’ seemed to taunt you and you quickly shut the journal, deciding against sharing the letter with its intended. 

As the days waned by and summer dawned on Britain in rustles of wind and splinters of heat, you feel your friendship with Regulus slowly blooming like the azaleas in your garden. 

The day brought mercy on the world as capacious clouds masked the heat of the sun, generously casting verandas of shadows around your manor. Regulus had been faring decently among Voldemort’s forces as he fed you tidbits of his progress, telling you that he was perhaps even considered as a potential member of the man’s inner circle. 

You were heavily conflicted about Regulus‘ predicament, but you knew that there was nothing you could do to dissuade his goals. Regulus was mindful of your caution around the topic of Voldemort in general, and was careful to not let conversation stray too far into the topic of his duty. 

Instead of constantly recounting his varying missions and commands, Regulus often spoke to you about your future goals and plans together, and reminisced of your times at Hogwarts. 

“I was never invited to join it. I’m quite disappointed, it seemed like an interesting opportunity.” You reflect, keeping your steady pace as you stroll alongside Regulus. Since the day brought reprieve against the sun, you both decided to spend it outside in your gardens, admiring the hard work of your house elves. 

Regulus chuckles quietly, hands clasped behind his back as he kept his gaze downcast on his shoes, “Trust me, you were not missing out on much. The Slug Club was mainly just a gathering for people to peacock around.” 

Grinning widely, you avert your gaze to look over the treeline surrounding the perimeter of your grounds, “I see, and did you happen to flounce around and gloat as well?” 

Regulus playfully shoots you a narrowed look, “I have no need to debase myself in such a manner. Now, Lucius on the other hand…” 

Your laughter echoes around the garden, and you feel the stubborn glimmer of hope in your chest amplify. 

You find yourself sitting in your study hours later, left alone in your thoughts as Regulus sweeps off after being summoned unexpectedly. Eyeing the item in front of you, you sigh and give in. 

Summoning your quill and a pot of ink, you flip your journal to the next clean page, only briefly glancing at your abandoned letter to Regulus. Steadying your hand over the page, you begin to write. 

Regulus, 

Today we took a walk around the garden, and I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard in my life. I’m glad that you didn’t immediately reprimand me for my undignified actions, and I’m pleased that our chats are a regular thing nowadays. 

The flowers bloomed splendidly this season and I’m wondering if I should perhaps draw up some plans to remodel the abandoned wing of the manor. It gets boring when you are not around, and I swear I’ve already read everything in the library. 

Narcissa has been owling me more often as of late, and we are both surprisingly content with our arrangements. 

You’re currently off to meet your lord right now, but I hope you will return before nightfall. 

Gratefully, 

Y/N

Your third letter submission in your journal comes only a matter of days later. Regulus was slowly becoming more engrossed in his responsibilities, having officially been granted a spot in Voldemort’s inner circle. Luckily, he still found ways to make time with you and your friendship was growing stronger with every passing day. 

Regulus, 

Today you took me to the opera. I was quite surprised since I had only ever told Narcissa that I hoped to go again one day. I’m glad that the outing went well, even if you were bored half to death midway through (yes, I could tell). 

You’ve been gone for a few hours now, but I still feel the rush of our trip even as I write this. It seems that you will be busier in the following days, but I’m happy that you are working towards accomplishing your objectives. I can only hope that you are not tasked with something too daunting, though I have no doubt that you would manage to overcome it in the end. 

I haven’t told you the good news yet, but I received an owl yesterday from Gringotts that notified me that our request for the joint vault has been granted. 

Mother keeps pestering me to get a check up from our family’s personal healer, but I don’t understand the rush. She gets fussy every year about our family check ups, and father is positively worn out by it. 

Autumn is approaching, so cheers to many more seasons of friendship! 

Your friend, 

Y/N 

It was to be expected, but you couldn’t help but worry. Regulus was alight with joy as he strided across the parlor room, a glass of firewhiskey cradled to his chest. You were sitting on the velvet chaise lounge, mouth perking up at the boy’s gleeful expression. 

“So you accepted?” 

Regulus spins on his heel and moves to sit across from you on the complementary lounge, setting down his glass on the table between you both. 

“Of course. Kreacher will be delighted.” Regulus’ words are thick from the alcohol and he grins at your silent congratulatory expression. 

You were proud of Regulus’ strides in the group, happy that others could recognize his talents and cleverness. However, you couldn’t suppress the worry that bubbled over in your mind. The closer Regulus got to Voldemort, the more danger he was in. 

It was a narrow path he was venturing down, and you hoped that it wouldn’t push him out of your reach. 

You didn’t want to spoil the mood and bring up that concern amongst other things, so you decided to write out your thoughts in your journal once Regulus retired for the evening. 

Regulus, 

I am overjoyed by your happiness and accomplishments. Though, I still can’t help but worry, and I don’t know if I’ll ever stop worrying. But, I trust in your judgment and I know you would never throw yourself into the path of an oncoming blade. 

It is good to see your mind off of things that bring you so much sorrow. I know you didn’t notice, but I saw you burning letters from your mother a few dawns ago. I hope everything will be rectified on that front. 

I saw my family’s healer earlier today while you were called away. I understand why my mother was so paranoid with our health, but I will stop from spilling such concerns onto paper in hopes that it goes away. I will have to be put on a strict potions regime inconclusively, but I feel stronger than ever. 

I know you will be busy in the coming days, and I will pray for your safety from here. 

Sincerely, 

Y/N

Regulus is disoriented by the onslaught of emotions coursing through his body. At first, he attributed it to the joy of being initiated into his Lord’s inner circle, but he found that the feeling persisted even after then. 

He didn’t want to acknowledge them, but he knew where they stemmed from. 

You were much more of a force than he accounted for during the beginning of your marriage, and admittedly, he was too guarded to even consider befriending you until many moons circled by. 

He couldn’t pinpoint when his feelings morphed from platonic concern to more, but he allowed himself to bask in the feeling. Since he now had a firm standing in the death eater circle, he could protect you better, and so perhaps allowing himself to indulge in his romantic urges would be plausible. 

He knew you had concerns about his job, but he would never compromise your trust and wants by forcing you to follow his path. As he laid in bed, recalling your quiet chat in the parlor, he couldn’t tell if it was the thought of you or the firewhiskey that was causing his face to burn so fiercely. 

He found that he didn't mind all too much about which it may be.

The next few days were hectic for the both of you, and you barely managed to find time to eat together at least once a day.

It seemed so sudden. The shift in your relationship went unspoken, but exchanged glances and hidden smiles became the norm between you both. 

The tension of your blossoming feelings weighs heavy whenever you both lock eyes, the feeling of wires of electricity buzzing between your veins. 

The bud of hope that sprouted in your chest all those months ago bloomed on a particularly windy night after Regulus finished up some paperwork. You found yourself wandering into his study with a small smile and a glass of water. 

The boy shoots his head up to gaze at your approaching figure, eyes lighting up at your arrival. 

“Finished for the night?” Your words are light and cheerful and you have to ignore the twitch of your fingers as you take in Regulus’ disheveled appearance. A large part of you wanted to reach over and smooth out his curls, but you resisted and opted to pass over the glass to the tired boy. 

Regulus nods and twirls the glass appreciatively on his desk, “Fortunately, I am all caught up.” 

You hum and lean against the desk, turning your back to him as you scanned your eyes over all the decoration and furniture you’ve already imprinted into your memory. The warm pool stirring in your stomach consumed your thoughts, and all the worries of the world seemed to melt away. 

“Knut for your thoughts?” 

Peering over your shoulder, you smile teasingly at Regulus as he leans back in his chair. His gaze seemed to penetrate right through you, eyes dark from fatigue and an emotion you couldn’t quite decipher. 

“It’s going to take a lot more than a knut.” Your playful words have him chuckling and shaking his head. 

You watch curiously as he pushes back his chair and rises from his seat, slowly rounding around his desk to stand in front of you. He quirks an eyebrow as you feel your face heating up at the close proximity, instinctively leaning back to peer into his eyes. 

“Oh? How much will it take then?” He breathes out. 

“Think you can afford it?” 

Your heart stutters as Regulus leans in towards you, “You’ll find that I have quite a bit to spare.” 

“I’m not swayed by money alone.” You retort quietly, desperately stopping your eyes from darting to his lips. 

“I have much more to offer than just money.” Regulus steps closer and places a hand on the desk, partially caging you in between him and the wooden piece of furniture. 

Tilting your head, you let your gaze drop down his face, “And here I thought you were a man of few words.” 

Regulus leans in closer and drops his other hand to your waist, eyes finding yours in search of something. He seems to be satisfied by what he sees and brings his face impossibly closer, pausing to silently ask for permission. 

When you don’t move away, he shifts to hold your waist tightly, “You’re right, I’m much more of a man of action.” 

Your brain short circuits as Regulus’ lips crash into yours, conveying the pent up emotions that he’s been keeping locked away. You move your hand to grip his neck, pulling him to your body as his hand begins to draw circles on your side. 

The world seemed to fade away as you spent the rest of the night in each other’s embrace, only breaking apart to share giddy laughter and loving smiles. 

Regulus, 

I suppose it has been a long time coming. I’ve never felt this way before, and frankly, it’s frightening. I think I understand what Narcissa means now when she says being around Lucius is like being enveloped in warmth, like stability and unrivaled fulfillment. 

It’s hard to put into words how much everything has changed overnight. I’m excited to see what our journey ahead will look like, and I’m already missing having you by my side. 

You’re not here today, and it’s given me some time to reflect. 

Just as you will do anything to ensure our happiness and safety, I will do the same. It is frightening and I know you will hardly understand when the time comes, but I have confidence that everything will be okay in the grand scheme of things. 

Love, 

Y/N 

A few days of bliss seem to drift by in honey-laced seconds, happiness and love drenching the manor’s atmosphere. You and Regulus were attached to the hip for many of those days, basking in each other’s arms and affection before you would both be separated by your tasks. 

Regulus was in fact a man of action, often choosing to linger around you as you paced around the manor in an effort to redecorate. Words did not need to be spoken, and you figured it was fitting in that way. 

You both never had to verbalize your feelings and intent to get the other to know. From the very beginning of your relationship to present time, it was always both of your individual actions that shone through. 

Unfortunately, Regulus had to attend to his duties soon after. With much hesitancy and lingering embraces, your husband left with Kreacher by his side. You were left to continue with your plans, and you hoped that Mother Magic would be merciful to you both. 

When Regulus returned in a storm of fury with an inconsolable, injured Kreacher by his side, you knew that something dire had occurred during his meeting with Voldemort. Your heart seemed to dunk into freezing water as Regulus shook in anger, barely containing himself as he told you what had happened. 

You knew that Regulus would move the entire world and beyond for those he loved, and Kreacher was no exception to your husband. Hearing about Voldemort’s deception and indifference to the elf’s life had you hardly surprised, but equally incensed. 

The day was marred by silent disbelief and anger, Regulus’ hurt at the betrayal palpable in the air even as dusk fell upon the manor in a sheet of grey. 

You supported Regulus as much as you could in the following days as he came to terms with the events. You also nursed Kreacher back to health as Regulus began to hatch his plans, stubbornly refusing to tell you more about what occurred, insisting that it was too dangerous for you to know. 

As soon as Kreacher was back on his feet again, Regulus asked for his help with his plans, leaving you to wander about. Deciding that lazing around was pointless, you decided to occupy yourself with your own plans as your husband locked himself away. 

It was currently nearing midnight, but unlike the previous week where you and Regulus would retire and go to sleep in each other’s arms, you were both awake on opposite ends of the manor. Realizing that Regulus was still closed off in his study, if the sliver of yellow light steadily peeking from under the door were to give any indication, you decide to sit and write another letter. 

Summoning a loose piece of parchment, you hastily race to write down your thoughts. 

Folding up the finished letter, you traverse back to your shared bedroom and carefully place it down on your pillow. 

Standing back to observe the paper, you hesitate to back away. A heavy stone seemed to weigh down your chest as you realize you need to draft up another letter, one that has you nearly hissing in displeasure. 

Making your way to your study, you fish out your journal from your desk and tentatively sit down. The quill in your hand seems to hang over the page for hours before the fog clears from your mind, and you’re able to formulate a satisfactory letter. As you sign your name, you let out a shaky exhale before summoning one of your house elves. 

“Bon, give this to Regulus if I don’t return by tomorrow evening.” 

The house elf carefully reaches for your journal, eyeing you with a knowing frown. Tucking the journal against his chest, the elf peers up at you with sad eyes, “Bon will do as you say.” 

Taking one last look at your bedroom and at your house elf, you make your way out of the manor, wand and cloak in hand. 

In the whistling of the wind, echoed by the rustling of tree leaves, you noiselessly apparate away without turning back. The moon gleams down on the darkened manor, and the stars seem to fade away from the inky sky. 

It takes Regulus five days after Kreacher’s near death experience to hatch a plan. His heart hangs heavy in his chest as doubt drills through his body like a fervent cramp. The door to his study cracks open with a noise of protest, and Regulus steps out for the first time in days. 

The house is quiet, the dim light serenely pouring through the windows indicating that it was near dawn. 

He needed to make a choice, one that he couldn’t go back on. 

But as he wanders through the desolate hallway, a muffled pop stops him in his tracks. 

“Bon? Where is Y/N?” 

The elf gazes at the boy with shiny eyes and wordlessly extends a journal, one that he recognizes to be yours, out to him. Before Regulus can question the small creature, Bon pops away just as quickly as he came. 

Rubbing his eyes tiredly, Regulus continues on his journey to your bedroom, intent on holding you in his arms to distract himself from the world. 

Regulus is hit with confusion when he sees your bed empty, sheets pulled neatly to emphasize its vacancy. Before Regulus can spin on his heel to track you down, his eyes are drawn to a piece of paper carefully folded on your pillow. 

The contents of the note has him shakily sitting down on the bed, hands hurrying to open your journal. 

Regulus, 

I didn’t realize how bad it was. The healers are saying there might be a chance, but if you’re reading this, I’m afraid it was futile. As my previous letters indicate, the blood curse didn’t present itself until recently, but it’s been degrading my soul quite rapidly for a long time. I know this isn’t the explanation you want–the explanation you deserve–but I know very little about it myself. 

I won’t lie to you. I’m scared. 

I hope you never have to read this. I hope I made my way back home, cured, and ready to assist you with your plans for Voldemort. 

But in case that doesn’t come to be, I want to make sure I leave something behind for you. 

Even now, I’m unsure how to write out my feelings, but I need you to know that there was nothing you could have done to stop this. I made this decision because I didn’t want you to worry or suffer. It was selfish to hide the truth, but I would do it again if I had to. 

But Reggie–Thank you for everything. Being with you was everything I hoped for it to be, and I’m so grateful that it was you I fell in love with. I know it wasn’t easy for either of us at the start, but you never made me feel inept or undeserving. Loving you has been the greatest privilege of my life, and I hope we can reunite one day. 

Do not worry about me, I will be by the seaside somewhere. I've always wanted to see the ocean with you, it just seems like I'll be the first to get there.

Let’s meet again one day, my man of action. 

Endlessly Yours, 

Y/N 

Regulus runs his thumb across the journal page one last time, eyes flickering across the swirl of words in front of him. 

Looking up from your journal, he wipes away a stray tear as he turns his gaze upward. The crashing of frenzied waves had mist swiping across his figure every so often, but he could hardly focus on the droplets clinging to his face. Rigidly standing by the cliffside, he hardened his resolve.

He would dance amongst the waves with you soon, death eater duty be damned. 

With a content stretch of his lips, Regulus enters the dark cave. 

He knows he will not breathe to see another moon, but he’s never felt so unbound. 

He was free. Free at last to walk away from his responsibilities and burdens. 

So he walks. 

masterlist

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Hello! I have seen this question debated many times and I wanted to know your take on it cause I find your theories very compelling. Do you think harry should've been in Slytherin? Does he have what it "takes" to be a Slytherin? Is it because of voldemort's soul in him that lead the sorting hat to even suggest he could be in Slytherin? I know this is not one question but I would like to know your opinion on this topic in general!

First of all, thank you for the kind words! 😊

As for the questions, well, you've asked more than one question, but this ask kinda gives me a good reason to talk about how Harry isn't some golden Gryffindor. He actually has some anger issues and he most definitely has what it "takes" for Slytherin.

I'll start with the last question and then go backward, actually.

Did the hat consider Slytherin house just because of the Horcrux?

I don't think so.

I mean, Harry is incredibly clever, magically powerful, and has a cunning streak a mile wide all on his own. I'd actually go as far as to say he's more cunning, ruthless, and resourceful than many of the Slytherins we see in the books. So his own traits definitely are in line with a Slytherin sorting, Horcrux or no Horcrux.

We can try and discern if the Horcrux has an effect on Harry's personality then, and if its influence is seen like that. I'd say that I don't think so either.

Tom and Harry, while they have their similarities, are very different people. They both have a bad temper (although they react to anger differently), but Harry has low self-esteem whereas Tom thinks he is the best (while still hating himself). They're both stubborn, but Tom is much more obsessive than Harry in pursuit of his goals. Harry cares for justice and isn't willing to hurt innocents, Tom doesn't really care about any of that he cares for efficiency. If the Horcrux was influencing Harry's personality, I'd expect to see more similarities between them that go deeper than that.

So, I don't think the hat only offered Slytherin because of the Horcrux. Harry is a Slytherin in his own right.

Does Harry have what it "takes" for Slytherin?

So, I honestly got really excited at the sight of this sentence. See I love Harry, that's no secret. But one of the things I love about him is that he isn't the perfect noble hero. He can be angry, and cruel and ruthless. But he has a sense of justice, he wouldn't wish harm on someone innocent, but someone who did harm to him, or was mean to him or someone he cares for... then Harry can be terrifying when he wants to be.

So, now I'm going to go through some (I have so many more examples of this, and the examples here are mostly books 1-5 since that's what I had on hand) of my collection of quotes showing Harry Potter's vindictiveness and anger.

Harry's response to "have a good summer" at the end of his first year:

“Oh, I will,” said Harry, and they were surprised at the grin that was spreading over his face. “They don’t know we’re not allowed to use magic at home. I’m going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer.…

(PS, page 221)

This is Harry's (very justified) vindictiveness we see towards the Dursleys many times in the books. He uses the idea of magic to scare them and is gleeful at the thought of Dudley's fear. Harry is very much chill with vengeance.

“…He likes to keep in touch with me, though . . . keep up with my news . . . check if I’m happy. . . .” And, grinning broadly at the look of horror on Uncle Vernon’s face, Harry set off toward the station exit, Hedwig rattling along in front of him, for what looked like a much better summer than the last.

(PoA, page 435)

Same as above, just Sirius Black as the threat instead of magic.

Yes, thought Harry, that looked all right. There was no point putting in the dream; he didn’t want it to look as though he was too worried.

(GoF, page 25)

Harry can and does lie and conceal information, even from people he trusts (like Sirius) if he thinks it'll be better not to tell them something. Whether that is for his own image or for what they would think.

“Potter! Weasley! What are you doing?” It was Professor McGonagall, and her mouth was the thinnest of thin lines. “We were — we were —” Ron stammered. “We were going to — to go and see —” “Hermione,” said Harry. Ron and Professor McGonagall both looked at him. “We haven’t seen her for ages, Professor,” Harry went on hurriedly, treading on Ron’s foot, “and we thought we’d sneak into the hospital wing, you know, and tell her the Mandrakes are nearly ready and, er, not to worry —” Professor McGonagall was still staring at him, and for a moment, Harry thought she was going to explode, but when she spoke, it was in a strangely croaky voice. “Of course,” she said, and Harry, amazed, saw a tear glistening in her beady eye.

(CoS, page 259)

And he clearly can lie well, even at 12.

But Harry wasn’t going to stand for this. Gone were the days when he had been forced to take every single one of the Dursleys’ stupid rules. He wasn’t following Dudley’s diet, and he wasn’t going to let Uncle Vernon stop him from going to the Quidditch World Cup, not if he could help it. Harry took a deep, steadying breath and then said, “Okay, I can’t see the World Cup. Can I go now, then? Only I’ve got a letter to Sirius I want to finish. You know — my godfather.” He had done it. He had said the magic words. Now he watched the purple recede blotchily from Uncle Vernon’s face, making it look like badly mixed black currant ice cream.

...

He stopped there to enjoy the effect of these words. He could almost see the cogs working under Uncle Vernon’s thick, dark, neatly parted hair. If he tried to stop Harry writing to Sirius, Sirius would think Harry was being mistreated. If he told Harry he couldn’t go to the Quidditch World Cup, Harry would write and tell Sirius, who would know Harry was being mistreated. There was only one thing for Uncle Vernon to do. Harry could see the conclusion forming in his uncle’s mind as though the great mustached face were transparent. Harry tried not to smile, to keep his own face as blank as possible. And then — “Well, all right then. You can go to this ruddy . . . this stupid . . . this World Cup thing.

(GoF, page 33)

Again, vindictiveness and manipulation of Vernon through fear. Not only that, but Harry can keep his calm and keep his face blank even at 14 for the sake of getting something he wants.

“Get stuffed, Malfoy,” said Harry. “C’mon, Ron. . . .” “Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren’t you, Potter?” sneered Malfoy. “So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?” “You know your mother, Malfoy?” said Harry — both he and Hermione had grabbed the back of Ron’s robes to stop him from launching himself at Malfoy — “that expression she’s got, like she’s got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?” Malfoy’s pale face went slightly pink. “Don’t you dare insult my mother, Potter.” “Keep your fat mouth shut, then,” said Harry, turning away.

(GoF, page 204)

Harry has a bark (all of the above quotes are Harry having a bark). He can and does shoot back as good as he gets.

Harry isn't all bark though, he's got a bit. Harry's anger is palpable and so very real and I love seeing it:

just as Uncle Vernon burst out of the dining room, his trouser leg in bloody tatters. “COME BACK IN HERE!” he bellowed. “COME BACK AND PUT HER RIGHT!” But a reckless rage had come over Harry. He kicked his trunk open, pulled out his wand, and pointed it at Uncle Vernon. “She deserved it,” Harry said, breathing very fast. “She deserved what she got. You keep away from me.”  He fumbled behind him for the latch on the door. “I’m going,” Harry said. “I’ve had enough.”

(PoA, page 30)

Again, Harry has his vindictive strike. (Obviously, Marge had it coming, but that's also what Harry is thinking).

A boiling hate erupted in Harry’s chest, leaving no place for fear. For the first time in his life, he wanted his wand back in his hand, not to defend himself, but to attack . . . to kill.

(PoA, page 339)

“You killed my parents,” said Harry, his voice shaking slightly, but his wand hand quite steady.

(PoA, page 341)

Harry, at 13, was fully willing to kill who he believed led to his parents' deaths. And more:

So what if he had to kill the cat too? It was in league with Black. . . . If it was prepared to die, trying to protect Black, that wasn’t Harry’s business. . . .

(PoA, page 342)

He's willing to kill Hermione's cat if it stands in his way.

Harry stood there, feeling suddenly empty. He hadn’t done it. His nerve had failed him. Black was going to be handed back to the dementors.

(PoA, page 343)

Harry Potter, at 13, laments that he didn't have the nerve to kill Sirius himself. He thinks he should've killed himself. He sees it as a failure that justice would be served by someone other than him.

Harry sat there staring at Snape as the lesson began, picturing horrific things happening to him. . . . If only he knew how to do the Cruciatus Curse . . . he’d have Snape flat on his back like that spider, jerking and twitching. . . .

(GoF, page 300)

Harry felt oddly separate from everyone around him, whether they were wishing him good luck or hissing “We’ll have a box of tissues ready, Potter ” as he passed. It was a state of nervousness so advanced that he wondered whether he mightn’t just lose his head when they tried to lead him out to his dragon, and start trying to curse everyone in sight.

(GoF, page 347)

The above quotes are both situations Harry was willing and wishing to curse people. Even Crucio Snape. He's not as noble and righteous and golden as many fans and characters in the books make him out to be...

If Dudley’s friends saw him sitting here, they would be sure to make a beeline for him, and what would Dudley do then? He wouldn’t want to lose face in front of the gang, but he’d be terrified of provoking Harry. . . . It would be really fun to watch Dudley’s dilemma; to taunt him, watch him, with him powerless to respond . . . and if any of the others tried hitting Harry, Harry was ready — he had his wand . . . let them try . . . He’d love to vent some of his frustration on the boys who had once made his life hell —

(OotP, page 11)

And sometimes, Harry wishes for an excuse to fight. An excuse to take his anger out on someone. (He has a lot of anger in him)

Smirking all over his pointed face, Draco Malfoy leaned across Harry and seized the largest bowtruckle. “Maybe,” said Malfoy in an undertone, so that only Harry could hear him, “the stupid great oaf’s got himself badly injured.” “Maybe you will if you don’t shut up,” said Harry out of the side of his mouth.

(OotP, page 260)

He's threatening and witty.

“Oh no,” said Hermione, quaking so badly that her knees gave way. “Oh, that was horrible. And he [Gwamp] might kill them [the centaurs] all. . . .” “I’m not that fussed, to be honest,” said Harry bitterly.

(OotP, page 759)

And when it comes to people he doesn't consider innocent, or ones he doesn't care for, even if they never harmed him, Harry is still vindictive. The centaurs mistreated Firenze and Hagrid, so Harry doesn't really care if Gwamp kills them all.

That being said, he is more concerned about Sirius in the above scene.

And he can and does cast unforgivables easily by the later books:

Hatred rose in Harry such as he had never known before. He flung himself out from behind the fountain and bellowed “Crucio!” Bellatrix screamed. The spell had knocked her off her feet, but she did not writhe and shriek with pain as Neville had — she was already on her feet again, breathless, no longer laughing. Harry dodged behind the golden fountain again — her counterspell hit the head of the handsome wizard, which was blown off and landed twenty feet away, gouging long scratches into the wooden floor.

(OotP, page 809)

Harry raised the hawthorn wand beneath the cloak, pointed it at the old goblin, and whispered, for the first time in his life, “Imperio!” A curious sensation shot down Harry’s arm, a feeling of tingling, warmth that seemed to flow from his mind, down the sinews and veins connecting him to the wand and the curse it had just cast. The goblin took Bellatrix’s wand, examined it closely, and then said, “Ah, you have had a new wand made, Madam Lestrange!”

(DH, pages 152-453)

As Amycus spun around, Harry shouted, “Crucio!” The Death Eater was lifted off his feet. He writhed through the air like a drowning man, thrashing and howling in pain, and then, with a crunch and a shattering of glass, he smashed into the front of a bookcase and crumpled, insensible, to the floor. “I see what Bellatrix meant,” said Harry, the blood thundering through his brain, “you need to really mean it.”

(DH, page 502)

So, I think Harry definitely has what it takes. He's clever, he can be ruthless, and he's capable of lying and hiding secrets when he feels it's the best option. He can hide his emotions when he really needs to, even if he rarely does. Actually, only in book 6, Harry starts sharing everything with Ron and Hermione on Dumbledore’s advice. Up to that point, he kept quite a bit to himself. And when someone wrongs him, he can and often will swing back.

And last but not least, should he have been in Slytherin?

So, this is an interesting question, because "should" can have two meanings.

1. Should've for the story — as in what is best for the narrative.

2. Should've for the character — in universe, which house the sorting hat should've picked.

So, for the first one, my answer is no. Gryffindor was the right choice for Harry for the narrative of the books as they are. Gryffindor is essentially the opposite of Slytherin and represents a choice more than just the traits and values the house represents. It represents Harry's choice even though he could've been a Slytherin he chose Gryffindor. And it's a constant choice with every heroic act. (personally, I'm not the biggest fan of equating school houses with morality, but it's effective in creating a clear narrative)

And while not all Slytherins are evil and not all Gryffindors are good, a Slytherin Harry Potter would've resulted in a very different story than what we have. So, for the story we ended up getting to happen the way it did, yes, Harry needed to be a Gryffindor.

For the second, maybe. Personally, I believe people (even if they aren't hatstalls) have more than one house they can fit into. Harry is both a Slytherin and a Gryffindor, and neither of them is more wrong or right for him as a person. I think deciding which one of them is best for him is up to a coin flip (and when in his life the question is asked).

He can be ruthless and cunning like a Slytherin. Selfless and courageous like a Gryffindor. He values justice like a Gryffindor. But he also has the selective loyalty of Slytherin to their own.

Point is, there isn't really a "should", because both suit him and he would’ve done well in both. Do I think Slytherin Harry is an incredibly fun concept to consider? Yes. Did I read way too many fics with this premise and would read more? Yes. Do I think he might've fit into Slytherin better than Gryffindor? Well, not necessarily.

Harry is much quieter than most in Gryffindor, but I think the constant scheming and image-keeping in Slytherin would be exhausting to him. He just doesn't care about all the gossip and politicalizing (something that occasionally leaves him out of the loop also in Gryffindor). So, again, both suit him about equally. The difference is that we get a very different story depending on his house.

[metalomagnetic]

I am spiraling into Sirius being a father again.

His relationship with his sons and harry are so interesting to me. Because it seems to me they all want to be his favorite child , even Marvolo who seems to like his mother better.

And we see a lot of glimpses of them being a little jealous of each other. So this makes me wonder , does Orion sometimes resent Harry for being the "favorite". Because Sirius gives Harry a lot of special treatment even if he doesn't realize it himself.

I imagine it would get worse after Voldemort comes back and wants to kill Harry , so it would be logical for Sirius to get even more protective of Harry.

But hey , maybe i'm reaching a little too far because i love angst too much.

All the boys want to be Sirius' favourite, of course.

You didn't reach too far at all. That 'your precious Harry' Orion let out shows there is some resentment there. Orion loves Harry, but one has to be blind not to notice Sirius treats them differently.

And children are jealous, generally. Especially so young. Especially when there are already expectations on Orion's shoulders to be the perfect Black Heir, meanwhile Harry can do whatever he likes with little to no repercussion. Of course, here is not just Sirius that puts pressure on Orion, but the entire family.

On the other side, even if Harry isn't at all jealous that he doesn't get smacked around by Sirius, Walburga and Arcturus (RIP), he, too has some insecurities about the entire Black/non-Black thing. But Harry is not only older, more chill, but also Sirius' devotion to him helps a lot, so Harry isn't resentful of the other boys, just sometimes insecure.

Poor Marvolo has it the worst (in his head) because there's Harry the Golden Child, Orion the Heir, and now Helix the baby that captures more attention, so he feels he has to compete extra hard; though, he's more resentful of Orion, not Harry,

They do all love the other, but sometimes brothers do get like that, even in normal families, let alone the most noble and ancient House of Black.

I do think Lucius was right, and Sirius should have treated them all the same, but Sirius doesn't want to 'steal' James' place as father, even if it's a fool's errand, since James has no place in Harry's life. But, for James' memory, he tries to raise Harry how James would have raised him, once again, an impossible task, because Harry is surrounded by values James wouldn't have exposed Harry to, anyway.

It would have been better if Sirius was ready for children, and if he wasn't so traumatised when he took Harry and then practically had Orion and Marvolo back to back. He really wasn't ready for all that, but well Harry had to be taken care of, and then his lovely family pushed him into marriage and here we are.

Mistakes were made.

Still, despite all that, they do have a loving family. All those children know they are loved fiercely. They just compete for the 'favourite' spot.

[georgeweasleyslostearhq]

THAT'S MY GIRLFRIEND?!

Pairings: George Weasley x Fem!reader Summary: you and George found Ron jerking off to you Warning: mention of jerking off. Note: requested by @lillisummers BASED IN OOTP

you sat between Fred and George at dinner as George poured you a cup of juice, he sat down and kissed your head before taking a sip of your cup

"ay, use your own cup" you whispered, trying to be quiet as the room fell silent

he smiled and looked forward, at harry, who's now holding the daily prophet

"he's been attacking dumbledore as well...fudge is using all his power, including his influence of the daily prophet to..smear anyone who claims the dark lord has returned" Sirius stated

your hold George's hand at the mention of the dark lord by instinct.

"why?" Harry asked

"the minister thinks dumbledore is after his job" Remus interjected, sitting in front of Harry

"but that's insane, no one in their right mind could believe that would of..." Harry began, being cut off by Remus

"exactly the point! fudge isn't in his right mind, it's been twisted and warped by fear" Remus nodded "now fear makes people do terrible things, Harry, the last time voldemort gained power, he almost destroyed everything we hold most dear..."

you looked over and George smiled sadly as he gave your hand a squeeze

you leaned into his side and closed your eyes, feeling his warmth

"now he's returned, and i'm afraid the minister will do almost everything to avoid facing that terrifying truth" Remus trailed off

"we think voldemort wants to build up his army again..fourteen years ago we had huge numbers at his command, and not just witches and wizards, but all manner of dark creatures. he's been recruiting heavily and we've been attempting to do the same, but gathering followers isn't the only thing interested in" Sirius explains

mad eye clears his throat, trying to make sirius stop talking, to which he doesn't

"we believe.." Sirius starts again, making Molly stop cutting the vegetables at the end of the table. you opened your eyes, feeling goosebumps form on your arms, having a chilling feeling

"voldemort may be after something" the long haired man said

"sirius" mad eye warned

"something he didn't have last time"

"you mean..like a weapon?" Harry questioned

Sirius opens his mouth to say more but Molly buts it

"no. that's enough, he's just a boy!" she exclaims, coming over to harry, taking the prophet away "say more and you might as well induct him into the oder straight away"

"good! i want to join. if voldemort's raising an army, then i want to fight!" Harry fought, making sirius clap his hands and lean back in his chair

"no, no, you've encouraged this sirius! it's not safe for him!" Molly scolded the Black

"is it just me or are you hungry too?" George whispered, taking your attention away from the adults

you looked at him and smiled "starving, what about you Fred? you hungry?" you looked over at Fred, who snickered

"why did mum bring us down for dinner when it wasn't even ready?" he wondered

"i was thinking the exact same thing" George huffed with a smile, throwing his arm over your shoulder before starting a conversation.

you looked at Fred but noticed Ron, sitting on the other side of him, staring at you.

though he didn't seem to notice you saw, as his eyes were focused a little lower. looking down at your chest.

you wouldn't say you were wearing a revealing shirt, but it did show a bit of cleavage

you raised your eyebrows at the boy as he finally looked up at your face

his eyes went wide as he realised you caught him and looked away, his face beet red

you shook your head and lifted the shirt up ever so slightly

Molly got fed up with Sirius and walked back to the food, ignoring him before angrily chopping the vegetables

"what did the broccoli do to her?" Fred joked quietly, making you and George snicker

George picked up your cup of juice and drank from it again making you sigh before slapping his chest

"drink from your own cup!" you sighed before leaning over taking his cup that has been left untouched but filled with juice and drinking from his cup

"oi don't drink from my cup" he huffed, trying to take it off you

"no, shove off, that's yours now, this is mine" you smile, moving the cup away, leaning away from him

"Fred get the juice off her" George pled, making Fred shake his head

"i'm not getting involved in your juice stealing" Fred leaned away

"ha!" you stuck your tongue out at George

"oh yeah? how about i pour the juice on you" he raised his eyebrow

you gasped and glared at him "you wouldn't!"

he smirked "i would"

he teasingly tipped his cup slightly, making you squeal

"shove off!" you giggled, leaning away, now leaning on Fred

"Fred help me!" you begged

"i'm not getting involved, but please don't get the juice on me" he chuckled

George leaned forward and teasingly tipped it again, messing with you "George, i swear to Merlin if you pour that on me" you squirmed as he wrapped his arm around you

"oh? what would you do?" he grinned

"i'll leave you" you stared at him warningy, but he didn't buy it one bit

"no you won't, you love me" he smiled innocently

"i do, but not right now" you whined

George gasped, faking hurt "wow"

"George, don't pour juice on her" Ron interjected

George leaned away from you and looked at his younger brother, sitting 3 down from him "aw, how sweet Y/n. ronikins here is looking out for you, he's on your side" George pouted at his brother, teasing him

you looked back at ron and found him staring at you again, making you feel weird, his eyes said something that made you feel a little..gross

--

you walked up the stairs hand in hand with George to talk to Harry, who had left the dinner table with Hermione ten minutes ago, probably to find Ron, who had left the dinner table well before them

"i think we just need to warn him s'all" George shrugged

"George, i think he already knows how dangerous it is, he's faced him before" you sighed, feeling sorry for Harry

"i know but he's still a kid" George huffed, walking to the first door to the left, Harry and Ron's room

"so are we" you tilted your head, not understanding his point

"but we're older, wiser" he smiled down at you

"oh you are anything but wise, George" you rolled your eyes, amused

"you're the best girlfriend, aren't you?"

"i like to think so" you grinned happily

George shook his head and opened the door, still holding your hand.

you looked up as George go ready to greet Harry- although, Harry wasn't there at all.

instead of the Potter boy, the youngest Weasley boy was sat on his bed, pants down to the knees as he pumped his cock at a fast pace, moaning as his head was thrown back in pleasure, clearly not noticing your presence

you quickly let go of George's hand and covered your eyes, turning around, trying to leave the room

"o-oh Y/n.." you heard Ron grunt, the sound of squelching getting louder

"what the hell?" George cursed in shock as you walked in to a wall on your way out, trying to get the image of a half naked Ron, jerking off

you heard Ron scream and shuffling of the covers

"what the hell! get out!?" ron yelled

you groaned in pain from headbutting a wall and turned around, reaching one hand for George, eyes still closed

George saw you reaching out and grabbed onto your waist, pulling you close to him

"were you seriously just jerking off to Y/n?" George asked, just as shocked as you were

"n-no" Ron stuttered

you peeked, seeing Ron fully covered by his blankets, his face as red as his hair

"We clearly heard you say her name" George frowned

"Whatever! Just leave!" Ron begged.

"You were wanking off to my girlfriend! That's your future sister in law dude! That's disgusting!" George exclaimed. Still in horror

Ron stayed silent. Feeling beyond embarrassed

"I mean come on. That's my girlfriend!" George scoffed

"I'm sorry!" Ron cried out.

You stood there in George's arms, Feeling a little uncomfortable

"Don't say sorry to me. Say sorry to her!"

Ron looked down. Not wanting to make eye contact with you

"I'm sorry" he sighed

"Now you're going to treat her with respect and if I catch you even looking at her the wrong way. Out come the spiders. Everywhere. I'm talking in your draws. Bed. Trunk, and on your face" George said sternly, making Ron nod vigorously. Still looking down

"Good" George scoffed before letting you go and taking you hand

"C'mon babe" he walks towards the door. Leading you out of the room

Once he shut the door. You looked at him and raised an eyebrow

"Future sister in law? What are you insinuating there, Weasley?" You smirked

"I think you know" he grins

"Oh yeah? It sounds like someone is planning on marrying me" you hugged him

"Oh shush. Now. Do you wanna go bleach your eyes?" He asked

"Oh yes please" you nodded happily

‐‐---------------------------------------------------------

[fictionalsimp09]

raven – @rosekillermicrofic – 377 words – CW: Death

A raven lands in front of Barty sitting on a bench in their favourite park, chain smoking to try to calm his racing brain. It’s been days. Evan has never been away this long, and Barty can’t help but fearing the worst. They’ve been lucky, not being seriously hurt during the war so far. What if Evan got cocky? What if he’s not coming back home to him? 

Barty shivered and wrapped his coat tighter around him, the early November breeze sending a chill down his spine. 

“Can you believe it?” someone says as they walk past. “It’s finally over.” 

“But how can a baby defeat He Who Shall Not Be Named?” 

What? The Dark Lord’s gone? They can live their lives now, together, without the risk involved in fighting a war. If Voldemort’s gone, then where the bloody hell is Evan? Has he been arrested? Barty would much rather that than what he has been thinking the past few days. 

He rushes back home, and calls Evan’s name. No one’s here. Sighing, he plops down on the sofa and fights back tears. Where the fuck is his Rosie? 

An owl taps at the window and Barty flicks his wand, opening it. It drops todays copy of the Daily Prophet into his lap and he places some money in the pouch on its leg. He scans the first page – Voldemort is indeed gone, defeated by none other than one-year-old Harry Potter. He flicks through the paper until his gaze snags on something a few pages in. A name. Evan’s name. On a list of confirmed Death Eater deaths. 

This is a hoax. A nightmare. He is not dead. Barty would feel if Evan died, right? He would just know. 

The tears he was holding back finally fall. Now that he thinks about it, now that he’s seen it in black and white, he just knows it’s true. His best friend, his soulmate, his Rosie is gone. Dead. Never coming back. He will never walk through those doors again. Never smile or laugh or roll his eyes at an awful joke Barty made. He will never get to look at, hold, kiss Evan again.  

Evan is dead. And Barty is going to make sure whoever is responsible suffers. 

[sheeple]

Miracles don't exist | 34: Stay and leave

Genre(s): Riddle!reader / Slytherin!reader / kinda slowburn / little happy moments Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Theodore Nott x Reader / Harry Potter x Riddle!reader Summary: Being the Dark Lord's daughter and raised under the strict supervision of the Malfoy's is no easy life. Especially if you start crushing on your father's arch-nemesis, Harry Potter. And that while being engaged to one of his follower’s sons. Warning(s): None really [Masterlist] [Mini masterlist] [Playlist]

You wouldn't have thought that shadowing Dolores Umbridge was the worst part of the Voldemort takeover. But surprisingly, it is. The woman takes a true delight in bringing dread and sorrow to other people. 

You're not even listening to the hag questioning the poor Muggle-born witches and wizards. Instead, you write letters with no intention to send them. They're mostly to Sirius. You miss the man. The safety and comfort he provided is a far-away concept in the middle of the war.

Sirius,  How are you? Are you safe? Is the Order still fighting the fight? I wish I could join. But I am under close observation at the Manor. The Dark Lord has great expectations for me and I am scared what will happen if I don't follow them to a T.  I am married now. For a while actually. To Theodore Nott. It's the same boy who was at the hospital. Despite it being a forced marriage, I am happy it's him. He takes good care of me, so don't worry. We keep each other safe in the eye of the war.  How are Harry, Hermione and Ron? Are they safe? The last thing I've heard was that they are on the run for the Ministry. Do you know what they are doing? Maybe I can find some things out for them to help them?

You look up from the letter and your frustration with the words on the page only grows when you look at the pink hag. There is a constant high-pitched ringing that follows Umbridge wherever she goes. And it seems like only you can hear it. It brings you to the brink of insanity and your hands itch to grab your wand and silence the witch and the ringing once and for all.

A chill rolls over your back while your head twitches. The thoughts scare you. And they have been getting a lot worse ever since you have been ordered to shadow the Muggle-Born Registration Commission. You glance up at the ceiling, where a pack of dementors hoover above the Patronus barrier Umbridge created. 

Mafalda Hopkirk has been giving you skittish looks the whole time and every time you give her a small but awkward smile when you catch her eyes. She then quickly looks away, her eyes wide as saucers. Shaking your head, you crumple up the letter to Sirius and put it in the pocket of your jacket. 

The high-pitched ringing around Dolores picks up when she speaks. "Marry Elisabeth Cattermole. Of 27 Chislehurst Gardens, Great Tolling, Evesham?"

"Yes", whispers Mrs Cattermole scared.

"Mother to Masie, Ellie, and Alfred? Wife to Reginald?"

Mrs Cattermole turns her head. Her husband gets dragged in by Albert Runcorn, the former having a skittish look on his face. Mafalda tenses in her seat at the arrival of the two men and you raise your brows. Interesting.

Mr Cattermole goes to stand next to the chair his wife is seated on while Runcorn stands in the doorway.

Umbridge continues after thanking Runcorn, "Marry Elisabeth Cattermole? A wand has been taken for you upon your arrival at the Ministry, Mrs Cattermole. Is this that wand?" She holds up the wand.

Runcorn starts to circle Mrs Cattermole as she answers the crude questions the hag throws at her, her voice getting thick with desperation.

As Umbridge accuses Mrs Cattermole of lying, Runcorn's face hardens with hatred. It piques your interest as the man always has seen impartiality of the many claims Dolores makes. You sit up straight, no longer leaning with your head on your hand.

As the poor woman begs her husband to defend her, the ringing intensifies. It's almost unbearable. Your head snaps towards Umbridge, seeing that Runcorn has snuck upon her, his wand in his hand.

Suddenly, Runcorn's face starts to bubble and deform. A nightmarish sight as his face morphs. "You're lying, Dolores. And one mustn't tell lies." 

Runcorn- no Harry! Harry fires stupify at Umbridge, who slumps in her seat. As Mafalda reaches out and janks something from her neck, Mr. Cattermole hits Yaxley with a spell, which makes him fall off his seat.

You have no clue why the two strangers help Harry, but you're quick on your feet, running after them as they bolt out of the interrogation room with Mrs. Cattermole. 

The dementors swoop after you as the Patronus charm disappears with Umbridge rendered unconscious. Just before you jump after them in the elevator you send your hippogriff down the hall, which fends off the dementors.

The elevator speeds off and you're met with two pairs of wands in your face. You hold up your hands in surrender as you try to catch your breath. "Please", you pant, "I'm on your side. We have to escape the Ministry as soon as possible as it is likely that the fireplaces will be shut off at any moment. But we have to pretend. Please..."

Mr Cattermole takes a step towards you, his wife still tightly clutching his arm. "And why should we believe you?" Now that you hear his voice you recognise him. It's Ron. So that means that Mafalda is... the Poli-juice has run out of her system and Hermione looks at you, an unreadable expression on her face. But she gives Ron and Harry a look that tells them to trust you.

The doors of the elevator open and you all bolt out. You decided to run behind them so it looks like you're chasing them. As the police storm your group, spells fly around your ears. You can hardly dodge them.

"They're mine!", you growl at Yaxley as you pass him, throwing spells yourself that you misfire on purpose. 

With Yaxley hot on your heels, you fire Depulso at the man so he crashes into the opposite wall, before diving after the Golden Trio into the last open fireplace.

You twist and turn, your body contorting uncomfortably until you roll onto the ground, dirt and try leaves in your mouth. You cough and wheeze as you try and scramble upon your feet.

Your wand flies out of your hand and a hot glowing tip gets pushed into your face. You up scared at Harry as he holds you at wand point. But painful wailing catches your attention and you look to the side.

Ron lies squirming on the ground, the flesh of his arm removed in graceful twists. Blood coats Hermione's hands as she tries to comfort the wailing redhead.

She yells to Harry for him to grab the bottle of Dittany from her bag. As he searches haphazardly, you reach for your wand before crawling towards them. "I know a spell. Please, let me help."

Hermione nods, tears and panic paint her face. Closing your eyes, you begin to recount the sing-like incantation of Vulnera Sanentur, the same spell Snape used on you after your incident in the toilets a couple months back.

Ron's twitching slowly eases as his wounds gradually close. Hermione pets Ron's head while she watches you work. Her bloodied hands leave red streaks on his forehead.

You sit back on your heels, watching your spell work. Your eyes travel from Hermione and Ron towards Harry, who stands off to the side with something in his hand. A necklace or some sort.

"Why- what were you thinking?! Do you realise how incredibly dangerous the Ministry is right now for you lot?!" You raise from your feet, dusting off your knees. You run frustrated a hand over your face. "Was it at least worth it?"

Hermione and Harry share a look with each other, the former giving Harry a sympathetic look. Harry sighs and holds up his hand, showing you what Hermione snatched from Umbridge. A locket.

You reach for it and when you touch it, a weird feeling goes through you and your head twitches violently to the side. And so does Harry's. 

"Wha-what is it?"

Harry still looks hesitant. "A Horcrux."

Raising your eyebrows, you look at Harry, silently asking him to explain.

The bespectacled boy sighs. "You-Know-Who has split his soul into seven pieces in order to be immortal and put them in objects. And to defeat him, all those objects need to be destroyed."

Your eyes flicker towards the locket. "So... You're telling me that a part of the Dark Lord's soul is in that locket?"

Harry nods and you sigh heavily. "How many did you destroy already?"

"Dumbledore managed to destroy two, but other than this one we have no clue what those objects are."

Chewing on your bottom lip you frown, thinking deeply. "I imagine that the Dark Lord keeps those objects close to him or in a secured place. I mean... I wouldn't be surprised if Nagini is a Horcrux. She's everywhere he goes. Except for a couple of times, she's with me when it is not safe for her to join him."

While you and Harry discuss the locket, Hermione has set up a tent and is placing protective charms around the encampment. Her voice makes you turn towards her.

"I have to go. If I stay any longer people will be suspicious."

"You-you can stay", blurts Harry out, his eyes wide. "With us... if you want. Or we can bring you to Sirius, where you are under the protection of the Order." He takes a step towards you, his hand reaching out. But you flinch away from him, not having forgotten the pain his curse caused.

You shake your head, playing with the ring on your finger. "You know I can't Harry. I'm so afraid of what they'll do to him if I don't return. Once they discover I betrayed them, they will kill Teddy to make an example. I am sure of it." Your bottom lip wobbles at the thought of those warm, brown eyes staring up at you blankly. Just like Mrs Burbage's.

"You're married?" Hermione has finished the protective enchantments and grabs your hand, examining the ring. "It's beautiful..." Her eyes catch the faded outline of the bracelet around your wrist and frowns. She looks at you with silent questions in her eyes.

You snatch your hand away, tugging it behind your back. "Ancient wizarding traditions", you say, hoping it explains enough. 

You turn around to walk out of the protective barrier, but just before you stop. Turning around, you say, "you have to hit me with a spell. Preferably in my face."

"I'll do it", quips Ron, who you honestly to Merlin kind of forgot that he was there. Hermione shoots him a look.

"Yaxley saw me leave with you. I can't come back and claim to have battled you without any proof. I'm not saying you have to break my nose. But just a few cuts here and there."

After some convincing Hermione reluctantly agrees to do it, as she is arguably the most skilled out of all of them. She stands a few metres away from you, wand at the ready. 

"Just... don't scar my face again, please", you say before closing your eyes. 

You hear Hermione take a sharp breath in before wordlessly firing a spell your way. It hits you square in your face and sends you flying back a few metres. A pained groan escapes you as Hermione hurries towards you, helping you to your feet.

"How do I look?", you ask weakly, half a smile on your face. You feel blood run out of your nose and staining your lips while your forehead stings. "Thanks for not going easy on me."

Hermione engulfs you in a tight hug. "Please be careful."

You hug her for what could be the last time for a very long time before stepping outside of the boundary. The encampment is gone when you turn around. Taking a deep breath you dissipate back to the Manor.

You land safely back in your and Theo's bedroom. Expect it's a total mess. Every door, drawer, and cabinet is wide open, and clothes and papers are strewn about. Everything is turned over like it was searched for something. And then you see it. The box you stored all your letters to Sirius is pulled from its hiding place under your bed and empty, every letter taken away.

Shit! SHIT!

The door flies open and you raise your wand. Theo stands in the door opening, eyes wide and hair dishevelled like he has been running his hand through it. 

The two of you stare at each other before it finally clicks in your mind. You wildly search the pockets of your coat for the letter you wrote today. But it's gone.

Within two strides, Theo's next to you and grabbing your face, wiping the blood away. "What happened? They are turning the house inside out in search of you. Why are you covered in blood?"

"You have to leave", you say, turning around and grabbing the first bag you find and stuffing it with clothes for him. But he grabs your arm which effectively stops you. You look at him guiltily, casting your eyes to the ground. 

"I'm not leaving without you."

You shake your head. "Listen to me, Teddy, please. They will kill you if you don't leave. Please." As you beg, you grab his hand and push the bag into his hold. "Quickly, before they find me."

You hear footsteps down the hall. Panic floods your system and you look around the room. you spot one of the first letters you wrote for Sirius and take it, pressing it in his hand. "Go to 12 Grimmauld Place and show them this letter."

"I'm not leaving without you. We're married, (Y/n). We're supposed to do this together."

Shaking your head, you hear the people near your room. "Now, Theodore", you growl, your breath picking up. 

Just before the Death Eaters storm your room you hear the distinct sound of disapparition and Theo is gone.

The door gets thrown open and a handful of Death Eaters pour into your room. "Get her!", one says before they pound upon you.

Taglist: (bold means I couldn’t tag you): @the0doreslover @lqndkxlmqma @st4rrry  @choppedpartymuffinwinner @ledtassoo @literallyobessed @lestat-whore​ @vanishingcherry @harrysnovia @pietrobae @ireallywannasleep127 @yeolsbubbles @fruityfrog505 @fluffybunnyu @theroyalmanatee @shinrjj @hegdus @kermits-bitch @m1kasawps @noah-uhhh-what @mypolicemanharryyy @fals3-g0d @decapitated-coffee @thatgirljas13 @slytherinambitious @raineisms @mastermindmiko @timmytime17 @regsg18 @supernatural-lover @bubybubsters @lafrone @hermionelove @the-sander-fander @akengii @aliciacat20 @unstablereader @burns-in-the-sun @rachelnicolee @damagelove @mqndrqke @llpovi @clairesjointshurt @222244445555 @jolly4holly @padf00ts-l0ver @fandom-life-12 @prettyb1tchsblog @pari-1 @f14ever @nopedefe @randomgurl2326

[thegoldfishkid13]

Home again Regulus Black x Fem! Reader

Warnings: A few swear words, Being James potters little sister. Mentions of death and killing. Fighting and running away.

Summary: After a fight with James you run to Regulus and he has a plan that will help you be together. But the plans dangerous, will you both make it?

Word count: 1634

This wasn’t a choice that you ever thought you would have to make. But here you are standing in the rain outside of your brother James’s house. After the heated argument you stormed out. Grabbing nothing, not even a jacket; that's something you would soon regret. You make your way down the streets of London and towards a familiar house. A house that you swore you would never go to. But here you are standing on the steppes knocking on the door.  An old man opens the door, he looks upset like you have interrupted something. 

  “Good afternoon sir, is Regulus here?” You question, your voice wavering slightly. A strong gust of wind blew and chilled you to the bone. The man nodded.

 “Wait here and I will go grab him for you.” He practically scoffs out his words. You nodded in agreement and waited outside. The man goes back inside to grab Regulus. Once he's at the door he opens it letting you in.

  “Y/n? What brings you here?” He takes a good look at you and pulls you close. He pushes some of your wet hair out of your face. “You’re drenched darling. Come on, let's get you changed.” He leads you up the large staircase and down the corridor. The place seems a lot larger than it does when you're outside. Once you make it to his room he grabs a jumper and a pair of pants for you.

 “Here to change in the bathroom. It's right there.” He points to a door on the other side of the room. You nod and walk over there and change. After emerging from the bathroom you finally take in what his room looks like. Gray walls with pictures of the two of you on one wall. Another is covered in books and other little trinkets.

 “Thank you Reggie.” Your voice is soft and sweet. He walks up to you and pulls you into his arms.

 “Why are you here darling?” He speaks, your head is placed in the crook of his neck. You can smell his cologne; cedar wood, and a hint of warm spice lingered in his neck. He spoke again. “I know you promised James and Sirius you would never come here.” His words were soft as he started to sway with you. You swayed to the beat of the record playing on the record play that sat in the corner, something you're just now releasing was there.

 “Me and James got into a fight and I left. He's angry about me not wanting to join the order. I don’t want to be separated from you.” The last of the sentence came out as a mumble. Regulus knew what you were referring to. Since his parents made him get the dark mark a year ago, James hasn’t been trusting of him. Even though he didn’t want it. James has also been wanting you to join the Order to help take down voldemort. It’s not that you don’t want to, it’s just you and Regulus won’t be able to see each other and that's not what you both want.

 “I see.” He spoke, his words were soft and he let go of you. 

 “I don’t want to be on any sides, I just wanna live.” You expressed your feelings for the first time. You tried to not speak of the topic ever. In hopes that nothing will come of it. In hopes that the stupid war would end.

 “I have an idea. It's not the best and safest but it's an option to get what we want.” He spoke and pulled you to a desk, and pulled up a chair for you to sit next to you. You see a pile of notes and pictures. 

 “Horcruxes… Voldemort has practically separated his soul and placed them into objects all hidden somewhere. If they are found and destroyed they weaken him and his power.” He says. You look over the notes and pictures. Trying to figure out where to start and how to start the process.

 “But there’s a catch.” He sighs. Your eyes meet him with a longing stare.

 “There’s always a catch that isn't there.” You sigh, eyes roaming his face. When he didn’t speak your eyebrows furrowed.

 “Yeah it seems like it… but it’s dangerous. We would have to drop off the map. Make it seem we are dead. Nobody can know. If we do this.” You nod and stand from the chair. You place a hand on his face.

 “ We should do it. Something needs to be done.” He looks at you with a shocked expression on his face. “We leave tomorrow morning. Meet me here at 5.” You nod and peck his lips. 

“I must go now before James starts a search party for me.” Regulus laughs and nods. You change back into the skirt and shirt you had been previously wearing. Regulus walked you to the door. The rain had now stopped and the sun started to peek through the clouds slightly. On your way home you stopped at a small little muggle bakery to get bread. Once you had arrived back at your’s and James’s shared place you noticed him and Sirius sitting at the kitchen table. You walked past them and up into your room. James appeared at your door.

 “Where the hell did you go?” He asked, his voice was loud and slightly gravely. You continued reaching for a book that was on the shelf above your bed.

 “I went out. Is that a problem?” You ask, trying not to give him much information on your whereabouts or who you are with.

 “Who did you go see?” His eyebrows furrowed and his voice started to raise again. You kept your cool this time. In hopes to show that you're stronger and being the bigger person. Even though you slightly instigating the fight.

 “ I’m not sure that it's any of your business now is it?” You exclaimed, sarcasm dripped from your words. This seemed to piss James off more. 

 “It is my goddamn business, as long as you live in this house everything is my business.” He spoke feeling like he had trapped you into giving up the answer. You sighed knowing he wasn’t trying to be manipulative, he just didn’t think before he had spoken.

 “Then I will move out, you won't have to be in my business then.” You spoke leaning on the wall that you were standing by. His eyes widened in shock. He didn’t want you to leave. He sighed and stalked out of your room and back down stairs. To where you presumed Sirius and maybe even Remus and Lily where. Once you knew he was gone you began to pack an enchanted bag. One that has never ending storage so you could place whatever you wanted in it. Once morning arrived you set off to see Regulus, meeting him where you said you would. When he walks up you wrap your arms around him.

 “Hi baby. Are you sure you want to do this?” He asks, knowing there's a chance one if not both of you wouldn’t make it back. But it was only a chance, nothing more or nothing less. The two of you set off hunting down horcruxes and breaking them, Voldemort grew weaker and weaker by the day. Nothing was stopping the two of you as you continued on. But when you both returned after Voldemort was killed for what you hoped was good. You noticed lots of things changed in the year you both were gone. James and Lily got married and had a baby boy named Harry. Regulus’s father had died and they had found out that Worm tail had gone to the darkside. Walking up to the door of the Potter residence hand and hand with Regulus, you both grew nervous, would they take you both back in? The two of you had practically dropped off the face of the earth not even leaving a letter.Regulus noticed your hesitation to knock on the door.

 “Don’t be nervous, if things go wrong we can leave.” He spoke trying to ease the pit of nerves that had grown in your stomach. You nodded and knocked loudly on the door. You heard heavy footsteps coming from inside. You and Regulus removed the hoods of the cloaks you had been wearing. The door swung open widely, Remus was the one who opened the door. His face was in complete shock and disbelief. His mouth was hung open slightly. He took a second to gather his composure. 

 “James! Sirius! It’s for you too.” He yelled. You heard the two mens walking towards the door. Remus left the door open but walked away wanting to give you both privacy.

 “James I’m real-” You didn’t even finish your sentence before you felt a hard slap on your face. You knew you deserved it, leaving without a note or anything. Sirius looked upset but you couldn’t hear what the brothers were saying to each other.

 “You left with no note, no call, no fucking nothing. Not a damn word about any of this came out of your mouth.” James spoke, he sounded angry but he looked more hurt.

 “You have every right to be angry. You do. I should have said something but I didn’t want to worry you.” You spoke, tears welled in your eyes, threatening to slip down your face. James pulled you into a hug.

 “You made me worried, Y/n, never do that again.” He said, his voice cracking. You nodded glad to be home.  You meet baby Harry and you and Regulus got married a year later. After having a daughter of your own. Finally, the wizarding world is at peace. For now at least…

[obsidianpen]

Uh, kinda rude but the previous anon wasn't entirely wrong. Just look at the numbers, your most popular story is Tomione, Pen, and I think you also prefer them to write, don't you? I mean, the relationship between them is more equal and interesting and intellectual and they complement each other in a way that, Harry never could, I mean, he's great, really good but uh, too simplistic. Hermione has more complexity as a character, and her dynamic with Tom/Voldemort is more fascinating. This is just my opinion,.. but the numbers are there to prove that we are a bigger community.

lol ACTUALLY

The numbers on B&G are only bigger because that story is public. NG, and all my other harry/V ones, are private, meaning it’s only available to people who make accounts and are logged into them. The only people who can bookmark, leaves kudos, or comment on those fics are people who have active Ao3 accounts.

I’m pretty certain that there are MANY more tomarry fics than there are tomione ones, at least on Ao3. Not sure about on ffnet or other sites but I’m only on ao3… except for when people tell me they found my stories on Reddit or TikTok and then I inevitably have to sit and marvel at how I am like an ancient shaman of toxic storytelling to a younger generation who yell at each other about whether they should read my fics in the comment sections of ambiguous posts with quotes from those fics… what a journey these stories have been on.

So. why is my tomione fic public but not the harrymort ones? Because, in my experience as a ff write for both ships - and I’ve been here a while - people who like harry/V are pretty chill with people enjoying other ships (usually). People who come for tomione, however, sometimes FREAK when they see harrymort. So I try to make it a little less accessible to that crowd, for my own sanity.

lastly…. Does one have to be better than the other? I think both Harry and hermione are great for different reasons. One is t better, they’re just different. :)