#why is regulus always like “water” or “seeker” or something?????

[kohanayaki]

.:Time And Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 8

You come across an old photo book full of untouched memories and decide to go through it with Harry, though there are some things you decide he doesn't need to know and some things you'd rather forget. (Takes place mostly through Marauders era flashbacks)

LINKS:   CH 1   CH 2   CH 3   CH 4   CH 5   CH 6   CH 7   CH 8

Ch 8 .:Snapshots, Secrets, and Sentimentality:.

“Hey, Harry?” you called out into the living room where said boy was reclined on one of the large charcoal armchairs, “I found something you might want to see.”

His eyes widened behind the round frames of his glasses as you carried over a large, leather bound book that was thick with laminated pages. You sat across from him on the couch, setting it down on the coffee table in front of you.

“We still have a few more hours before the others arrive for the meeting,” you said, “and I don't know when the next time we'll be able to talk like this will be.”

“Wait,” he said before you could open the book, “you aren't staying?”

“I can't,” you smiled at him sadly. A statement that was true for a multitude of reasons you'd rather not get into with your godson. “I wanted to show this to you before I left, though.”

With a wave of your hand the book's pages gently flipped open, revealing a number of old magical photographs. The page you had turned to had a picture of James, and you could see Harry's eyes lock onto it. His father was beaming at the camera, holding up the Quidditch cup as two of his Gryffindor teammates held him up on their shoulders.

“Now you see why everyone always tells you how much you look like him,” you chuckled, “that's him in his fifth year, same as you now.”

Harry stared in wonder at the photo. He really did look like his dad. James was slightly taller, lankier, but he had the same disheveled waves of dark brown hair and boyish grin as Harry. Their faces were nearly identical; except for the eyes, of course.

The photo right next to that one was you wearing a Seeker's crest. You were posed, standing with the rest of your team with a wide smile on your face. Harry's brow furrowed as he spotted an unknown yet somehow familiar boy next to you with curly black hair and light eyes.

“Who is that?” he asked, “he almost looks like—”

“Sirius?” you finished. Harry nodded. “That would make sense,” you said, “that's Regulus, his younger brother.”

“I. . . didn't know he had one,” Harry said in wonder.

“Well, you know he doesn't talk about his family often.”

“Right. . .” Harry trailed off for a moment, “but you knew him? His brother?”

“Yeah,” you said, feeling a tug at your heart, “We were friends, for a while.” Your eyes subconsciously looked up towards his room which now stood empty. “He, um. . . he died, some time ago.”

“Oh,” Harry said, not knowing what to say, “I'm sorry. . .”

You gave him a small smile in thanks, trying to shrug off the grim feeling the memories brought up as you turned the page of the book to the next.

This photograph was one that was moving— you and James in your Quidditch captain's uniforms. He was reaching over, ruffling your hair while you were ducking to avoid him, pushing his face away and turning his glasses askew despite the grin on your face.

“We both became team captains in year six,” you said, smiling fondly at the picture, “we'd squared off as Seekers the year prior, so it was only natural. You were already playing Seeker your first year, weren't you?”

“Yeah,” Harry said bashfully, “although my first time catching the snitch was bit rough to say the least.” You laughed at that, recalling the time he told you the story of how he had caught the snitch with his mouth his first match.

“You take after your father, for sure,” you said, “he was always a creative flier; came up with all sorts of purposefully confusing strategies as captain. By the time the other team figured out what he was doing, he'd have already caught the snitch and the match would be set.”

Harry felt pride fill his chest at your words, glad he was taking on his father's good qualities.

“So you were a Seeker your fifth year and played until you graduated,” he recalled, “but I thought you said you played Chaser before?”

“Well, sort of?” you admitted, “Not officially. My introduction to the game was unconventional, to say the least. . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1974   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

James and Sirius huddled with the rest of the Gryffindor team on the Quidditch pitch, gearing up for the match. The energy around them was electric, the stands packed with students and faculty from every house.

“Remember, keep to the left,” Halls, their team captain, said sternly, “and take advantage of Parkinson's blind spot. If Rollins and the rest of the Chasers start scoring above 40 before halftime, we'll go in for the Pincer.”

Sirius nodded, determined to win this match. It was the first one of the season, so a lot was riding on this. However, his attention was diverted as the crowd's cheers suddenly grew louder. The Slytherin team had arrived on the field, marching towards them. Something Sirius didn't expect to see, however, was you, dressed in Chaser's robes next to his brother.

“What are they doing here?” Sirius scoffed as he spotted you, “they're not even on the team!”

“Rollins took a spill last practice,” Vanity said as she stepped forward. The Slytherin captain had a wicked grin on her face, “(L/n)'s a last minute replacement. Don't bother trying to argue, I've already cleared it with Madame Hooch.”

“Convenient of you to tell us ahead of time,” Halls' eyes narrowed.

“Is there a part of 'last minute' that escapes your understanding?” Vanity rolled her eyes.

“Well, no matter,” Halls said, “you've lost your best Chaser, we don't have anything to worry about.”

“That classic Gryffindor confidence,” Vanity smirked, “we'll see about that. I don't choose just anyone to fill in.”

Halls scoffed as Vanity turned on her heels, not bothering to look back.

“Seems you've found yourself another game to lose, (L/n),” James smirked at you.

“Have I?” you arched a brow, “what's our score now? 10-9?”

“10-10 since I got you with that scalene water in the Prefect's bathroom,” James reminded you, “how was being half fish for a day?”

“Marvelous, felt just like you,” you quipped.

“Settle down, everyone,” Madame Hooch said, stepping out onto the field, “Potter, (L/n), I know you two have taken to pranks on each other in class, but I don't want to see a lick of that up in the air, understood?”

“Perfectly,” you said, a smirk sneaking onto your face as you mounted your broom. 

“Wouldn't dream of it, professor,” James said with sarcastic flair.

Sirius eyed you cautiously. Gryffindor had flying class with Hufflepuff, so they'd never actually seen you fly before, but there was no doubt that if Vanity approved of you, you had to pose some kind of threat.

“Take your marks,” Hooch said, and you rose off the ground in unison, staring each other down. “Let the match begin!” With a strong, well placed kick, the Quidditch case was thrown open to release the bludgers and the snitch, and as she threw the quaffle up in the air you lunged forward into a dive. You were just about to grab the ball when a blur of red and gold nearly knocked you off your broom.

“Potter has the Quaffle!” Kingston commentated from the box, “he passes to Longbottom, who evades Catchlove and Regulus Black. Longbottom scores! The first ten points go to Gryffindor!”

The patrons in the red and gold stands went wild, the roar deafening in your ears. This was definitely different from flying class. You had to get it together.

The hair on the back of your neck suddenly stood straight up when something whizzed right past your head as you barely moved to dodge it. Sirius gave you a passive shrug from the other side of the field, a beater's bat resting on his shoulder.

“Tosser,” you grumbled under your breath. You had half a mind to throw him right through the left-field hoops without his broom, but dealing with the bludgers wasn't your job; you just had to evade and score. You wouldn't let your team down.

Your eyes searched the skies for the quaffle again, and found it as you spotted a Gryffindor snatch it out of Catchlove's hands. You built up momentum, lowering your body to your broom handle as you picked up speed, swiping the ball from the red Chaser's hands before his eyes could register. You flew under him before their team could rearrange formation and spun around quickly, swatting the quaffle towards the lower right goal with the tail end of your broom. Their Keeper dove to block it, but was one second too late. The ball flew through the hoop and straight into Regulus' hands, who looped back around and threw it through the top right, leaving the Gryffindor Keeper too disoriented and too low in the corner of the goal posts to do anything about it.

“(L/n) outmaneuvers Johnson and scores!” you heard the commentary box boom, “Regulus Black follows up with another goal, we are 20 Slytherin to 10 Gryffindor, what a quick turnaround to start off the match!”

You huffed, impressed that Regulus was able to make the most of your shot. You knew he was Sirius' brother, but that was about it. He was a year younger than you, so you didn't have any classes together and never really talked to him before.

“Nice shot,” you said, flying next to him.

“Same to you,” he said with the slightest upwards quirk of his lips.

“Oi, keep it up you two!” Vanity shouted, hovering over you before dodging the bludger that flew her way, “Black, keep point on Johnson, he's off his game today. (L/n) I want you on intercept and watch for Potter.”

“Gladly,” you smirked, flying off towards the other side of the field. You were starting to feel more comfortable in the air, like you were when you were just flying by yourself; the sounds of the crowd disappeared over the wind rushing in your ears, and you were able to concentrate on your main objective:

Kicking James Potter's arse.

And that you did. The all too confident smirk that seemed to be permanently plastered to his face disappeared when he suddenly felt the weight of the quaffle leave his hands. A victorious smile graced your lips at his dumbfound expression as you threw the ball long to Regulus, who caught it with ease, swatting Johnson away like a fly before scoring another goal.

“(L/n) passes to Black who scores another ten points for Slytherin!” Kingston announced, “it looks like the two rookie players are really hitting their stride now. Choosing (L/n) as a last second fill in is really paying off!”

Sirius' eyes narrowed, grunting in frustration as he hit another bludger your way. Regulus' head turned at the sound of the crack of the bat and signaled over to one of your Beaters, who tossed the bat his way just in time for the Slytherin to send the ball flying back towards his brother. Sirius cursed under his breath, rolling to the right and spinning out of control for a moment before reorienting himself.

“Hooch, what gives!” he shouted, “penalize them!”

“Fair play under protection,” Hooch denied him, “you've been taking headshots, Black. Be grateful I'm not docking you.”

Sirius grumbled a few choice words under his breath before flying back into the fray.

“Thanks for that!” you called over to Regulus.

“Don't mention it,” the boy said, his expression still fairly neutral save for the slight smirk on his face. How the hell was he so calm during this game anyways?

You continued to work with Regulus throughout the match; you'd found a system that worked, and your captain told you to roll with it. Pass after pass you intercepted and scored, mainly targeting Potter not just because Vanity had told you to, but because it brought you a considerable amount of personal enjoyment.

That's when you saw it— a tiny, nearly imperceptible flash of gold that whizzed by your peripheral vision. Neither of the Seekers had caught sight of it yet, but you watched as it zoomed low towards the ground, hovering just beneath one of the crowd stands.

“Oi, Talkalot!” you shouted over the crowd at your Seeker, “Dive low at Hippogriff, now!”

You'd only had  a few hours to look over the strategies that Vanity laid out for you, but you knew the Slytherin team had come up with code words for each quadrant of the Quiditch pitch so you could alert your Seeker if you saw the snitch without the other team knowing where it was. You hoped to Merlin you'd gotten the code right, and you exhaled in relief as Talkalot zoomed past you, taking a sharp dive straight down.

“Nice eye, (L/n)!” she shouted over her shoulder, her voice trailing off as she went after the snitch at top speed.

Sirius' eyes widened as he saw the sporadic move from your Seeker. That could only mean one thing.

“Halls, they've got eyes on the snitch!” he shouted to his team captain who cursed under his breath, taking off in Talkalot's direction, but her lead was too great.

“She's got it!” Kingston hollered into the mic, “Lucinda Talkalot has caught the golden snitch, scoring 150 points for Slytherin! Our score comes out 50 Gryffindor to 230 Slytherin, and this match is over!”

“Slytherin wins!” Madame Hooch proclaimed from her broom.

Everyone in the emerald stands cheered so loudly you thought their tents would topple. You couldn't believe the amount of adrenaline coursing through your body in that moment. It was a complete sensory overload as you were bombarded by the Slytherin team, mostly comprised of people you hardly even knew, and thrown on top of their shoulders and they cheered for you.

“What a game, (L/n)! I never knew you could play!”

“Where the hell have you been all this time, eh?”

“You better try out next year or you're dead!”

You laughed at the last comment from Vanity, people buzzing around you as soon as you were set down. You broke away from the congratulatory comments and pats on the back, however, as you spotted James across the field. You couldn't help but rub this in his face a little.  

“Why so blue, Potter?” you grinned as you bounded over to him, “what was that about me 'finding another game to lose'?”

For once, James had no clever comeback, and his face flushed as you laughed at his expression.

“I do believe that leaves us 11-10,” you said cheekily, doing an overly exaggerated bow before tossing your broom from your left hand to your right and stalking off.

“Not for long,” James said to himself once you were out of earshot, equal parts impressed and supremely annoyed. It was time for him to pay another visit to Zonko's. He'd show you blue all right. . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“After that year I tried out for a permanent position as Seeker,” you said, “your father and I concluded our prank war, Sirius and I put aside our differences, Lupin vouched for my involvement with the map, and the rest is history.”

“I seriously can't believe you became such close friends only two years later,” Harry said, shaking his head in bewilderment.

“Neither could we,” you said, “it was just a series of chance encounters that we learned we were more similar than we thought. I really do believe that friendship can come from anywhere, Harry. Even more so when you least expect it. So if there's anyone around you that you think you might never get along with, I'd say it's worth it to give them a chance.”

Harry paused at your words. There were more than a few people who came to mind.

You turned to the next page, which was a spread of you and the rest of the Marauders in more casual settings. One could clearly tell you had taken them of each other, if the shaky camera movement and blurry rendering were anything to go off of.

You smiled to yourself as you saw a photo of you and Remus asleep in the Hogwarts library, lightly leaning against each other with your eyes peacefully closed. Suddenly the camera flash jolted through the photograph, and you two bolted upright. You glared at the person taking the photo and reached out to smack the camera away, the picture going blurry for a moment before resetting. Harry laughed at the brief repeating scene, as did you.

“Your father took this one,” you huffed, “because of course he did.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1977  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You rested your head in your palm as you transcribed a few spells into your notebook. The lantern in front of you gave you just enough light to read the elaborate Latin, as the sun had long since set. Your eyelids felt annoyingly heavy, attempting to close on their own as you fought against them to stay awake.

“How are you holding up?” Remus asked with a slight grin, catching you jump awake at his remark.

You and Remus had gotten permission from Madame Pince to use the library after hours to study; after all, you two were outstanding students. If James and Sirius had made the request, they wouldn't have gotten so positive a reaction.

“I've been more awake in my life, but I really need to get this done tonight,” you sighed, “NEWTS start next week and I have to be ready.” You stared up at the boy who was looking at you with obvious concern. “I'm fine, Moony. And I don't want to keep you here, so whenever you want to head off to bed, feel free to.”

“It's no trouble,” he said, “I'll walk you back to your common room, at least. At this rate you'll fall asleep in the middle of the hall for Filch to find you.”

You gave him a light but well-meant glare, groaning as you turned your tired eyes back to the parchment in front of you.

“Why the sudden all-nighters anyways?” Lupin asked, “I thought you'd be plenty prepared.”

“My Charms marks haven't exactly been the best lately,” you admitted, “that's kind of important if I want to become an auror, Remus.”

“Really?” the lycanthrope said, surprised, “but you're always in the know on some spell or another I've never even heard of. You've even made some of your own, right?”

“Yes, but the Ministry wants people who can conjure a corporeal patronus, not someone who made up a spell that makes antlers grow on someone's head to make a very specific joke.”

“Well, I thought it was impressive,” Remus laughed, thinking back to James asking him 'why does my head feel so heavy?' “but I see what you're saying,” Remus continued, “Have you thought about Dumbledore's proposal? Joining the cause might call for some more specialized tasks that would fit you well.”

“Right,” you bit your lip, “I just. . . I don't know. It's a lot to take on. A big part of me is scared, Remus. I'm not like you guys. I can't just fearlessly leap into a battle without any second thoughts. James and Sirius gave their answers so quickly and. . . I couldn't say for sure right away like they could. Honestly, I was terrified, and I still feel guilty because of it.”

“Fear is wisdom in the face of danger, (Y/n),” Remus said, “It's nothing to be ashamed of. No one is forcing you to make this decision right away, nor are they requiring you do it alone. There's a war going on out there, (Y/n). No one would blame you for not diving into it headfirst.”

“Always the quoter of muggle proverbs,” you chuckled lightly, “thank you, Remus. Really.”

A quiet yawn snuck into the back of your throat, and you stretched out of your chair to try to get feeling back into your body.

“Maybe I should turn in soon,” you said, your voice already groggy, “just a few more transcriptions. . .”

Remus stayed by your side as you continued to work diligently, and he found himself smiling at your innate stubbornness. It was something he greatly admired about you; when you decided on something you stuck to it no matter what, sometimes to a fault. You fought to keep your eyes open, even as your head began to slope and your handwriting gradually became slower.

Lupin was beginning to tire himself, which surprised him. He was naturally nocturnal, after all, and usually had no issue staying up to the early hours of the morning. But the quiet scratch of your quill against the parchment, the occasional sound of a page turning, and the smell of your shampoo that wafted with the motion, all lulled him into a sense of ease that was much too easy to doze off to.

Just when he thought he might fall asleep, he almost jumped out of his skin as he felt a soft pressure on his shoulder. He looked to the side to see you sleeping peacefully, your head having slipped from your palm and onto the soft fabric of his sweater. His face flushed a deep red, and he thanked Merlin you were sound asleep. He was caught in between embarrassment and slight panic as he instinctualy wanted to wake you but also ensure you actually got to sleep tonight.

He meant to wake you, he really had, but his mind and body betrayed him, and without even knowing when, his eyes fluttered closed and he drifted off into quite possibly the best sleep he'd had in weeks.

The flash of the magical camera was blinding, even through your closed eyelids. White spots danced in your vision as you groaned, shielding your face from the camera.

“MORNING, LOVEBIRDS!”

Remus jolted awake, remembering last night's events in an instant and banging his head on the bookshelf beside him in an attempt to put some distance between you two.

James was stood there, camera in hand and doubled over in laughter.

“Prongs, you better start running before I skin you and turn you into a pair of shoes,” you growled.

“How is it that I always catch you two sleeping together?” James chortled, completely ignoring your statement, “Can't be long till you get it on to the other sense of the phrase.”

And that's when you lunged at him. Too bad he didn't take your advice for a head start.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“That twat,” you said fondly, a statement that about summed up your and James' friendship.

Harry found himself smiling as you recounted your memories with his father. It made him feel that much more grateful for what he shared with Ron and Hermione.

“Oh, Merlin,” you laughed as you saw the next picture. You, Remus, Sirius, Peter, Lily, and James were standing side by side, Slughorn smiling in the middle of all of you. “This was the first and last Slug Club party that we ever attended all together,” you said, “Like I mentioned, Lily and I had always gone, and—”

You caught yourself.

And Severus would pretend to be reluctant tagging along, you finished in your mind. After what happened he stopped attending the parties.

You cleared your throat.

“Ahem, well, we'd always gone together as friends but none of the boys ever went with us,” you said, “It was our last year, and Lily finally convinced James to tag along, because by then they were together and he was contractually obligated to do so. I talked Sirius into coming because Slughorn had been trying to get him to come for years, and I made Remus my plus one. So for the first time ever, we were all at the party.”

“So it was the last party of the year?” Harry asked.

“Um, well, no,” you laughed, “it was the last party we were invited to. Let's just say your godfather thought it would be funny to enchant the ice sculptures to chase Lucius Malfoy around the dance floor. I'll admit, watching that stupid blonde ninny run screaming from a rapidly melting octopus to the tune of a classical string quartet was pretty entertaining, though Slughorn obviously felt otherwise.”

Harry chuckled, clearly seeing the spark of mischief in Sirius' eyes, even through a photo. As Harry's gaze drifted across the page, he noticed an empty space near the corner of the book. A discolored square remained where a photo should have been, the caption reading 'Christmas, 1976.' As he saw the way you ran your fingers lightly across the page, he decided against asking you what used to be there. He instead turned his attention to the next photograph, which was one taken in an all too familiar setting.

“Hold on,” Harry said, pointing to the picture, “that's the Gryffindor common room!”

“Sure is,” you grinned, “that secret passage from the dungeons to Gryffindor tower went from being used purely for pranking purposes to a way for us to actually hang out together at night.”

You stared down at the photograph fondly. You all looked so much older than the first pictures. You and James were lounging on the couch, not bothering to hide the overly full glasses of firewhiskey in your hands. Sirius and Remus were sitting on pillows on the floor, caught in the middle of a fit of laughter before all four of you turned to the camera which flashed. A pang of hurt and anger hit you square in the chest as it did. Peter had been the one taking the photo.

“I remember this day,” you said, an expression Harry couldn't quite figure out on your face, “it was the night before graduation. Our last night at Hogwarts. . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1978   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A giggle rose in your throat as you took yet another drink of firewhiskey with James and Sirius, something that Remus insisted you were going to regret come morning.

“Oh, don't be suck a stickler, Moony,” Sirius guffawed, “tonight's the night! This time tomorrow we'll be packing up camp and heading out into the great unknown.” He made an expansive gesture with his hand that was cut off promptly by James smacking him upside the head.

“I'll brew a pepperup potion tomorrow if anyone really needs it,” you assured Remus.

“Not really the point, (Y/n),” he rolled his eyes.

As you leaned back to look at the four of them, all grinning like idiots and laughing, you felt a strange sense of sadness come over you. This was your last night at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the place you had spent most of your life and where you had met the people you could no longer imagine that life without. As the reality of that fact sunk in, you grew quiet.

“Everything's going to be different after tomorrow, isn't it?” you said.

The boys looked surprised at your sudden and intense declaration, and James was the first to break the tension you'd created.

“Aww, Fangs is getting all sentimental,” he grinned, slinging an arm over your shoulder.

“I will toss you out this window, Prongs.”

He laughed, poking you in the cheek, his smile only widening as you huffed in annoyance.

“It won't be different,” he promised, more serious but with that smile ever present on his face, “we'll still be friends. We'll still be a pack. And besides, after we graduate we could go. . . well, anywhere together! Just think, the five greatest heroes Hogwarts has ever seen, going on top secret missions from Dumbledore, saving the world!”

“It'll be dangerous, James,” you said, “there's a war going on, remember?”

“What war could ever break us up, huh?” he said reassuringly. You felt your heart swell at the remark. “And besides, you're gonna have to see me next year for the wedding anyways! Lily wanted it sometime in Spring.”

“. . .”

“WEDDING?!” you, Sirius, Remus, and Peter screeched, practically in unison as if it had been planned and rehearsed. Chaos erupted in the room, and you couldn't care less if you woke everyone in Gryffindor tower.

“You sly git, when were you gonna tell us?!” Sirius whacked his friend over the head with the map.

“I just did!” James said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head, “And ow, Merlin, Pads. . .”

“You hit me first!”

“I can't believe you just dropped that on us,” you said, “Lily actually agreed to this?”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” James huffed.

“Hey, I'm just saying you tend to drift off into fantasy land when it comes to her,” you said, putting your hands up in mock surrender, “I was just making sure this was rooted in reality.”

Remus laughed at that, lifting the needle on his record gently.

“They have a point,” he chuckled.

“Yes, I actually proposed, and yes she actually agreed,” James said, a lovesick smile on his face, “I wanted to get married pretty soon after we graduated, and she had no problem with that. She said she'd want to start a family—”

“Oh GOD,” Sirius said, drunken horror on his face.

“An actual nightmare,” you joined in playfully, “imagine another one of you running around. Even Lily's DNA couldn't balance that out.”

“Alright, that's it,” James said, “you're not gonna be godparents anymore.”

“I'd be terrible at that anyways,” Sirius chortled.

“I disagree,” James said earnestly, and the comment struck Sirius completely off guard. He chocked up the welling tears in his eyes to the alcohol, taking another sip to mask it.

“You're going soft, Prongsy,” he grumbled.

“Look who's talking, tough guy,” James laughed, clapping his best friend on the shoulder.

“We should take a picture,” Peter suggested quietly, turning red when everyone stopped what they were doing to face him, “I-I mean, since (Y/n) was worried about things changing, and we're all graduating, a-and who knows when—”

“Good thinking Wormtail,” James beamed, pulling you closer and leaning down towards Sirius and Remus so you could all be in the frame.

Peter was looking down at his shoes, fidgeting with his wand.

“Peter, you don't wanna get in the picture?” you asked.

The large framed boy jumped at your voice, looking nervously between the people he had come to know as his friends. There was an oddly fearful look in his eyes that left as soon as it came— a look you wouldn't understand until years later.

“N-no, that's alright,” he said.

And that was one of the last peaceful days of your life you could recall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I haven't even thought about these in the longest time,” you said, staring at the faded photos, “it's crazy to look back on them. It feels both like yesterday and a hundred years ago.”

The next page immediately summoned a lump in your throat.

“This was their wedding,” you said, fighting to keep your voice level, “the year after we graduated.”

Harry looked down at the dozens of photos of the ceremony and party that took place after; James at the altar in his burgundy and gold embroidered suit, and Lily walking down the isle with a bouquet full of the flowers that shared her name. Remus raising a champagne flute to the large crowd of guests as he made a heartfelt speech. You and Sirius dancing under the floating lanterns made to mimic the Hogwarts ceiling.

“Your father never was one for subtlety,” you laughed lightly, “he wanted the ceremony to be as extravagant as possible. He pulled out all the stops. . . and then, the very next year, they announced that they were going to have you.”

You looked up at Harry, and the resemblance he shared with two of your closest late friends conjured feelings of happiness, love, and deep, cutting sadness all at the same time.

Your fingers moved to turn the page, wanting to move on to something else, but you froze as you saw the edge of the next one. So much for that plan.

“I think that's enough for now,” you said quickly, smoothing the page back down, “the others will be arriving soon for the meeting, you best get washed up.”

Harry was curious, of course, but he nodded, not wanting to press for anything else as he reluctantly headed back upstairs.

When you were left alone with the photo book you sighed, bringing yourself to turn the page to see a picture of you and Severus. You were beaming at the camera, proudly holding out your perfectly brewed Draught of Living Death, the photo having been taken by Slughorn to put up on his famous wall. One of your arms held the cauldron haphazardly, the other slung around Severus' shoulders. He certainly wasn't displaying your level of enthusiasm, but a small smile graced his expression, allowing his lips to fully curve upwards, which was as close to 'beaming' as he ever got. He looked so much younger— less burdened.

Right next to that photo was an older one from 1973. It was one you had taken from the top of the oak tree, with Severus and Lily looking up at you. You knew he'd be here soon, and you knew you should talk to him, but you found yourself stuck back in the cycle of doubting every opening spiel you came up with.

You groaned in frustration, snapping the book shut and resting your forehead on the table as stress flooded your being. You refused to live in this perpetual state of dwelling on what happened. You were ready to talk, you just had to take the first step.

Chapter 9 coming soon!

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[starsandmoonys]

The Black Brothers

This is Angsty as fuck. all the warnings, literally, at your own risk. but y’all asked me to post so here you go. 

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Okay, it’s more of a fic idea rather than a headcanon.

Basically due to the status of the house of black. I’d like to think that the black brothers had their own dorm in Hogwarts, a fully furnished room with two beds for both boys in the Slytherin dungeons.

Sirius was supposed to get sorted into Slytherin and stay in it, and the following year he’d share it with Regulus. But alas, that didn’t happen and Sirius got sorted into Gryffindor, stayed with James, Remus, and peter. 

The dorm was left empty till the next year when Regulus joined and got sorted, now only one bed. His own room with no one to bother him, just like back home. Except he wanted Sirius to be there. He couldn’t understand why his brother would abandon him like that.

Sirius understood what Reg must’ve felt like and started to sneak into the Slytherin dorms almost 4 times a week after his and Reg’s classes just to spend time with him.

He Showed up the first day of school after the sorting and found Regulus curled up in bed, crying. Regulus wanted to go home, he didn’t want to be alone. He was destined to spend all his school years in that room in a different house and he hated it. He hated every single second of it.

Sirius promised him that day that he’d always be there, whenever he can. He won’t let Regulus stay there alone. It would be like they’ve never left home minus Walburga.

They would help each other with classes, Sirius sucked at potions, and luckily his brother seems to be an honorary student in it. He would give Reg practical tips and training in DADA and Transfiguration. Talk about Quidditch. Sirius was more than proud when his brother got the seeker position in the Slytherin team. “You’d be playing against us, I’ll tell James to go easy on you.”

They would talk, play, vent, and cry about letters their mother sends (mostly to Sirius). Regulus gets a lot of nightmares. So just like home, he needed Sirius around him.

Sirius spent the nights there, in that room. He rarely slept in his own bed. The rest of the boys would question his absence, he told James and asked to borrow the cloak when he needs it to facilitate sneaking in and out of the dorms at night. 

They came out to each other one night during Sirius’ fifth year. Sirius was ranting about Remus, how he drives him insane, etc. When Reg jokingly said,” Are you sure you’re straight, Siri?” that’s when Sirius just looked at him and some sort of realization hit them both. “I’m gay?” “You’re gay!” and they just hugged. Regulus promised no one will ever know about it until Sirius is ready for that step. To offer insurance, he told Sirius that he doesn’t really think that he has feelings or has ever felt anything towards anyone. Both ways.

Sirius told him that he could be Aromantic and that if he is, that’s absolutely fine. It doesn’t mean that he lacks feelings because Regulus feels more than anyone he knew. And that he’s not broken. They just cry a lot that night. Each one with his own demons to battle. But at least they had each other.

Sirius stayed with Regulus 24/7 after the prank incident when everyone in his world seemingly hated him. Reg would read muggle books to him and beat him in chess. And sometimes let him win.

This routine happened during most of their years at Hogwarts, the marauders knew about it. McGonagall and Slughorn also knew but no one dared to argue with the boy.

Regulus was a priority to Sirius and everyone knew it.

Until the summer before the sixth year, when everything fell apart. Sirius ran away. He did it again. He left him. He left him again. He didn’t look back at what he was leaving behind, at who he was leaving behind. Regulus couldn’t get over it. He knew Sirius abandoned him again. He didn’t know how to forgive him. Why didn’t Sirius think about him? Why didn’t he take him with him? He felt like he didn’t really matter to Sirius that much. He chose the Potters, just like he chose Gryffindor all those years ago.

The first time Sirius showed up to his room during the Sixth year, Regulus couldn’t control his anger. He lashed out at him. “We’re not brothers, you’re not a Black. Now, get the fuck out before I call Slughorn” Called him a traitor. Not a blood traitor, he didn’t really care about those values, no, Sirius betrayed him. He broke the promise. He kicked him out. Asked to never have to see him again. Not even in the hallways. Despite all his pleas and apologies, Sirius left that dorm feeling worse than when he was kicked out of the Grimmauld place.

Despite all the anger that Regulus felt, he would never allow anyone to shit-talk his brother. He would straight up pick up fights with anyone calling Sirius a slur. He called Sirius brave for what he did. He didn’t hate on Sirius for leaving that wretched place and having different values. He looked up to him and he wanted to go with him. He can’t now, he was alone, with them, and a very dark future ahead of him.

Sirius never left though. Because he knew Regulus wasn’t okay, he wasn’t okay either. His friends were being great but he missed his brother.

Sirius borrowed the cloak every night, sneaked out in the middle of the night. He just hid under the cloak and sat on the floor next to Reg’s bed, for hours. He needed his presence. Just to be there. He cried a lot because he could hear Regulus having nightmares and he couldn’t do anything. He’d just kick him out again.

Regulus figured out what was happening later on, in Sirius’ seventh year. He never minded. He was awake. Sirius was awake. Each one just being silent. They just stayed there. No one talked. Sirius being under the cloak. And Regulus on the bed lying on his back.

It was Reg’s last year. Sirius wasn’t there. He left Hogwarts. Joined the resistance. He’s fighting for the good side. Regulus wanted to go to. He wanted to be part of the Order too. He stayed in that room, reading the letter his mother had sent him. He would be taking the dark mark. Nothing twisted his heart like that letter. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to write to Sirius. He wanted him to tell him it’s going to be alright. But he knew it won’t.

Nothing will be alright. There is no turning back. He’ll be one of them and he’d be hated. Sirius would be ashamed of him.

He took it, he let the dark lord mark him, with his family around, celebrating him. Like he’s some kind of a hero. He wasn’t. He was the lowest of the low. He would look up to the sky and watch that certain star. “Please, help me” he would whisper. But he was never answered.

Regulus was writing the note. He knew was he was about to do. It was death. But he didn’t care. He believed anything would be better. He can’t live with himself. He wanted to burn it off, cut his damn arm. But then he would know and it won’t end well.

He figured since he’d either die this way or another. He would go trying to do something good. Just one step closer to the fall of the dark lord. He drank the potion with one person in mind. And was dragged in the water with one last thought. “I hope you’re proud of me.”

[theprodigypenguin]

👀 💛

Thank you for the Huffle-Heart anon! I started this Jegulus WIP when I first started writing with James and Regulus, just getting a feel for the characters, but I never got far with it. I still really like it, the concept and such, but y’know:

Then the Snitch again, Regulus went after it, but as his fingers closed around it, the Gryffindor Seeker cursing behind him, he felt something pelt him, hard, knock him off his broom. He didn’t realize what it was as he plummeted, clutching the Snitch to his chest and eyes pinched closed. He heard screams from the stands, then his fall halted, breath leaving in a sharp exhale and vision blurry.

There was an arm around him, and he had to blink rapidly to clear his view before recognizing James Potter, sun glinting off his glasses and a grin on his face, looking both amused and concerned. Regulus just scowled as they touched down, staggering away from James and holding to Snitch up to show the stands. There were cheers, but it was rather pointless, because Gryffindor had amassed more points than Slytherin, winning the Quidditch Cup. Adding insult to a very real injury, a Bludger to the stomach, Regulus keeled and coughed blood.

It was regret: that he was letting himself have too much fun watching James play, and forgot he was supposed to catch the Snitch and actually win. He swayed towards the ground but was caught around the chest before he could fall. More insult, that James had been the one to catch him and now was the one to hold him as he shook on weak knees and spat out mouthfuls of blood that he couldn’t figure out the source of. Had he bitten through his tongue, punctured a lung, or recieved massive trauma to his stomach?

The Professors kept the student in the stands as the rest of the Quidditch players hit the dirt and hurried to help. Regulus heard the muffled voice of his captain curse at the Gryffindor team for playing dirty and hitting a Bludger directly at Regulus, which should have been a foul, then started snarling at James to let Regulus go if he didn’t want revenge in the form of a Quaffle to the face. James, to his point, absolutely refused to let go, merely holding Regulus tighter.

“I didn’t see any of you, his team, trying to catch him.”

“We were busy!”

“So let him fall to his death, that’s fine.”

Regulus spat more blood, too out of it to defend himself, and ended up clinging to James’ Quidditch robes, held between he and Madame Hooch, helped to the hospital with the Gryffindor Quidditch team trailing them. One of the Beaters kept apologizing, “I swear I didn’t mean to hurt him, I was trying to get the Bludger away from James!”

“That’s fine, I’ll take detention for it,” James offered eagerly, but Madame Hooch told him to shut up.

Regulus didn’t bother to care that his own team hadn’t followed him to the hospital, they were probably mad at him for messing up so badly. Madame Pomfrey had him lie down before shooing the Gryffindors towards the door angrily.

“Let me work, let him rest, out!”

Regulus could see through a gap in the curtain, that all but James and that Beater had left the hospital wing, standing patiently out of Madame Pomfrey’s way so she could mix together a medicine that she practically forced down Regulus’ throat.

“Drink it, yes I know it tastes bad, you better not spit it Mr. Black or so help me. All of it, stop making that face, would you rather we send you to St Mungo’s to fix the internal bleeding, that’s what you want?”

Regulus just muttered under his breath, leaning against the pillows that had been set up to prop him level enough to accept vials of medicine one after the other, then a goblet of strange tasting water.

“He okay?” Regulus heard James ask as Madame Pomfrey walked out from behind the curtain, and rolled his head to glance out through the gap in the curtains.

The door was open, and Madame Pomfrey was giving a vague update just as Sirius, Remus, and Peter burst into the room. Regulus was genuinely surprised to see Sirius there, but the surprise was muted due to his exhaustion and the medicine making his mind and body feel heavy.

“I’ve gotten the bleeding down, internal damage isn’t bad, he may cough blood for a few days, but he’s fine. I’m keeping him for now, until I’m satisfied he’s alright, so get out while he’s resting.”

“Is he conscious?” Remus asked.

“Yes, but heavily medicated.”

“Can I stay?” Sirius blurted, and Regulus felt a jolt through him that had his stomach aching badly enough to cringe and roll his head away, pinching his eyes closed and clutching his stomach, coughing hard against his pillow.

“No you can not stay-”

“But I’m his brother, I have a right, don’t I?”

“I didn’t think you cared,” the Beater admitted, and Sirius spun to him.

James stepped in front of Sirius to keep him from doing something stupid, glancing hopefully at Madame Pomfrey. 

“Please? We won’t bother him, we’ll let him sleep, we just want to watch over him until he wakes up. Just till tomorrow?”

Madame Pomfrey seemed to mutter, finally relenting. “Don’t you dare make his condition worse.”

Regulus was barely conscious when the four of them snuck behind the curtain to join him around the bed, while the Beater left. He could feel the hand push his bangs away from his forehead, which felt hot and sticky from sweat, and Remus spoke from the right.

“He’ll be okay, Sirius.”

“Yea, mate,” James spoke from the left. “Reg’s a tough kid.”

“Why are you worried?” Peter asked. “I’ve seen you say mean things and even try to hex him in the halls.”

“Wormtail you idiot, don’t you know those are the rules?” James asked, sounding very self assured, and Petter muttered.

“What rules?”

“We’re all only children so we don’t know, but see, Sirius, being an older brother, has divine right to bully Regulus to his heart’s content, but no one else is allowed to,” James explained wisely. “Don’t tell me you never noticed how we never interfered with them? Because that’s how Black brother’s show their affection!”

“By hexing each other so their ears grow bigger than their head and their nose hair lengthens and turns bright pink?” Remus asked, and James barked a laugh.

“That was hilarious.”

“Not to me it wasn’t!” Sirius shrilled.

Regulus remained in a state of almost conscious for a long while, struggling to fight off sleep just so he could listen to them talk, two on his left and two on his right, one hand on his head and occasionally on his shoulder, always touching him somehow. Sometimes a new hand joined the first, fingers calloused from years of Quidditch, rough and warm, slipping across his forehead; James. His brother’s hand was a bit different, smoother and cooler, soothing in a way, but both hands had that effect, soothing and relaxing. Regulus finally fell asleep when it was James who was playing with his hair, not noticing even once that the only time he would touch Regulus was when Sirius wasn’t looking, quickly retracting his hand when his friend turned back to Regulus so he wouldn’t notice.

Regulus snuck out of the hospital before the four of them woke up, pushing himself up and wincing as he looked to the right where Sirius was leaning back in his seat with his head back and his mouth open unattractively, Remus leaning into him with three different cloaks draped over his shoulders from Sirius, James, and Peter. It was nice how they took care of him.

James was leaning against the bed to the left, his arms folded on the mattress, face buried in them, glasses sitting in his hair, Peter using his shoulder as a pillow, drooling a stain into James’ shirt.

Regulus snuck towards the foot of the bed and off of it, took a few more vials of medicine that Madame Pomfrey forced into his hands, and left before the first Maurader started to stir. It felt wrong, to wake up with them surrounding him, because he wasn’t part of their circle. He wasn’t their friend, he just happened to be Sirius’ brother. Their kindness was a courtesy, it wasn’t genuine.

Thank you for sending in, Anon!

[useless-slytherclaw]

Chapter 1: The Crossing

Regulus’ entire world was black.  At least his lungs had stopped hurting.  Had there been hands on him?  They were gone now. Everything was gone now.  His muscles relaxed.  It was over now, everything was over and he could rest.  He just wanted to rest. 

Regulus opened his eyes; white light assaulted his vision, and he closed them.  Whatever he was lying on was hard.  Was he sleeping on the floor?  He groaned and threw his arm over his face.  Where the hell was he?

“So, you’re finally awake.” A male voice came from his right.  Regulus knew that voice.  He pushed himself up into a sitting position and looked around.  Everything around him was white and foggy.  It was odd, though.  He felt somehow that there was nothing beyond the fog, that the fog wasn’t hiding the world, but that it was the world.  Which made no sense.  

He was sitting on a sidewalk or maybe a road, it was hard to tell, but there was a tall man sitting on the ground beside him.  He was handsome in a mature way and had long dark hair tied back neatly and a close trimmed beard.  Both hair and beard were streaked with grey, but it only served to make him look distinguished.  There was only one person it could be.

“Uncle Alphard?” Regulus asked, confused.  Alphard was dead.  With that thought, Regulus remembered.  The cave.  The potion.  The inferi.  The water.  “I’m dead, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” Alphard said, sounding sad. “It seems that you are.  I must say that I didn’t think I’d see you here this soon.”

Regulus looked at his uncle.  He looked younger than he had been the last time Regulus had seen him.  His hair and beard were mostly dark again.  His black eyes were sorrowful and soft.  Regulus looked away and shifted uncomfortably.  Sadness and softness were not acceptable in Blacks, and as such, they weren’t things he was comfortable with. 

Alphard reached out and put an arm around Regulus, who stiffened.  Alphard removed his arm.

“Where are we?” Regulus asked.

“I’m not exactly sure,” Alphard said.  “What do you see?”

Regulus looked around himself, and as he looked more of the world formed around him.  He seemed to be sitting on a cobblestone road of some sort.  A few feet away another street intersected this one.  There were no road signs that he could see.  There were no buildings on the street either.

“It looks like a crossroads? Except everything is white. The stones, the grass, the sky?”  There was no wind, no sun.  What a strange place. 

“How interesting,” Alphard said, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand.  “You are at a crossroads Regulus, but I don’t know what your choices are.  Only you can know that.”

“Choices? Like heaven or hell?  How is that a choice?”

“No,” Alphard said, “I don’t think it’s like that.  I think it’s more about how you’re going to get where you’re going.  You aren’t ready to go on.”

“Not ready to pass on?” Regulus asked incredulously. “I’m dead! I don’t have another choice!”  Maybe he could become a ghost.  He entertained the thought briefly but quickly cast it aside.  

Alphard smiled at him.  “I don’t make the rules, Reg.  I’m not even sure I know what they are.  All I know is that you’re here, at a crossroads.  Maybe you have to wait for something or for someone.”

Waiting for something? For someone? Someone to go into the afterlife with?  For half a second he thought about- but no.  Regulus let out a single harsh laugh at the idea.  He was a Death Eater, a turncoat, a coward, a useless backup heir to an insane family.  No one wanted him; no one was waiting for him.  He pulled his knees up to his chest.  It seemed that he couldn’t even die properly.

“Regulus,” Uncle Alphard’s voice broke into his spiraling thoughts.  “You know that I’m proud of you?  If I would have had a son, I would have wanted him to be like you.”

Regulus rolled his eyes.  “Don’t bother Uncle; I know that Sirius was your favorite.”  Sirius was everyone’s favorite.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke, but Regulus could feel Alphard’s eyes on him.  

“Sirius reminds me of myself.  I was quite rebellious as a young boy. Not nearly as bad as your brother,” he clarified when Regulus gave him a disbelieving look.  “I don’t think there’s been a Black in 200 years who’s caused as much ruckus as your brother.  Still, Walburga deplored me; still does, I’m sure.  And rather like your brother, I didn’t want to marry a nice girl and settle down.  Luckily for me, I had Cygnus and Walburga to carry on the family name.  Like Sirius had you.  I know, personally, the sort of cruelness that Walburga employs in the name of discipline, and I worried for your brother.  You were always so well behaved, so quiet, that I didn’t worry for you.  Now I know better.  

“I understood Sirius.  But you, Regulus, I am so proud of you.  You were everything parents could ask for from a son: well mannered, excellent marks, seeker for the house team, a prefect, and dedicated to the family.  

“I guess it’s a good thing you don’t know how I died then,” Regulus spoke into his knees.  He wasn’t used to receiving compliments, and he didn’t know how to handle it.  

“Did you try to run away with that girl?  I told Walburga that she came from a good family, but Wally never listened to me very well.”

Regulus blinked.  He’d never talked to Alphard about Iset.  He hadn’t talked to anyone about Iset besides Sirius, who’d figured it out on his own.  Sirius. Sirius must have told Alphard.  Regulus ground his teeth.  “It was never like that.  We never-  Anyway, she went to America to study magical theory and avoid the War.”

Alphard raised one eyebrow.  

“I,” Regulus said, staring at his knees again.  “I betrayed them, and I died doing it.”

“Why don’t you tell me what happened,” Alphard said. “All of it.”

So Regulus did and it all came tumbling out.  How it all started at Hogwarts and seeing the things people like Mulciber and Avery did to muggle-born students made him sick.   How as Sirius acted out more and more, Bella and Walburga dug their claws into Regulus tighter and tighter.  How he didn’t understand why they had to be so cruel.  How it felt when Sirius ran away and abandoned him to their parents.  How Bella convinced his parents to make Regulus join the Death Eaters.  How he couldn’t leave because Walburga would never let both of her sons go.  How he realized that he was only going to be free when he was dead.  How Voldemort entrusted him with the secret of the Horcrux by using Kreacher.  How Regulus went, on that final day, to get the Horcrux and do as much damage to Voldemort as possible.

Alphard was silent for a long time.  Regulus resisted the urge to fidget; fidgeting wasn’t dignified.  Regulus glanced away from his knees to look at Alphard’s face.  He looked sad again. 

“That only makes me more proud of you, Regulus, not less.  You stood up to the most powerful wizard in the world, and you found his greatest weakness, and you used it against him.  It’s brilliant.  You are a far braver man than I ever was, Regulus.”

“I betrayed our family.”

“No, lad, our family betrayed you.  It’s one thing to care about bloodlines and to protect traditions.  It’s another thing to force your children to torture and kill.”  

Alphard put his arm around Regulus.

Read the rest on AO3