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collecting-stories · 1 year

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Renegade - Sirius Black

Summary: Sirius' post-Azkaban confinement has soured his mood and it's effecting more than just him.

A/N: I don't know what this was originally supposed to be...I found the first paragraph in my notes and just kind of rolled with it to make this angsty mess of a fic.

TS Anthology Series | Harry Potter Masterlist

✰ Is it insensitive for me to say get your shit together so I can love you ✰

There was no mistaking Grimmauld Place. The soft mutterings of Walburga Black’s portrait, and endless loop of insults hurled at everyone who lived within the home. It wasn’t the sort of place you would choose to be, wasn’t nearly a contender for the type of ‘home’ you’d hoped to build someday. But it was Order headquarters and, more than that, it was Sirius’ home. At least for the time being. With Sirius on the top of every most wanted list in England, there were a far few places that he was safe, and fewer that assured the safety of anyone else in close proximity. There had even been doubts about Grimmauld Place being the sanctuary that it had unwittingly become. More so, you suspected, because Sirius didn’t want the place of his second prison to be his childhood home. There weren’t any other viable options though, so you ended up there, doing the best you could to cultivate something other than sheer loneliness inside the walls.

Sirius was somewhat inconsolible though, or he made himself out to be. He’d put on a brave front for Order meetings, reverting back to the sauve troublemaker of his past whenever the house was full of guests. If Harry was around he was jovial, somewhat parental, and doting. But alone, or at least when it was simply the pair of you (and Remus on occasion that he wanted to be a party to the misery) Sirius barely spoke.Sometimes he didn’t even get out of bed. Wracked with dark bouts of depression from his time at Azkaban, you tried both to give him space and to be understanding but he wasn’t the only victim of his agony, or Grimmuald Place.

“Checkmate in four,” Kreacher noted as his knight struck down your bishop. The rules of wizarding chess had never been kind to you and they were upholding that reputation now, as you sat at the end of the long wooden table in the kitchen with Kreacher.

The cantankerous house elf had become an odd sort of housemate for you during your time within the walls of Grimmuald Place. Neither of you much wanted to be there and neither of you were in a position to leave, those yours was more self-imposed than Kreacher’s.

Despite the clear lack of respect that Kreacher held towards Sirius, he rarely permitted himself to be in the same room as the now-owner of the house. So, it was no surprise to you that the moment Kreacher poof-ed out of the kitchen, Sirius would be stepping into the dimly lit room.

“You want to play a round chess?” You asked, turning just enough to watch him place the kettle on the stove top. He magicked the fire on the gas burner and found a clean mug in the cabinet. “I can reset the board.”

Still no answer. He went about making a tea that you remembered Remus favouring in school. Probably something of his own creation. You took a sip from your own mug, the chamomile and honey that Kreacher had made you earlier was cooling to a favourable luke warm. You had grown up with a muggle mother and didn’t care for wizarding drinks the way Sirius did. In school, when you’d first wrinkled your nose at butterbeer, Sirius had found it hilarious and teased you for it ever since.

“Or you can just go back to sulking through the house like a ghost.” You muttered, holding the ceramic mug to your lips and taking a sip.

Sirius’ movements stopped and he stood still there at the stove, hand hovering over the handle of the kettle. You were kind enough, or had been until five seconds prior, not to say anything about Sirius’ moods. You let him get away with his disposition but lately it was getting more and more unbearable. It was draining to watch him so jovial with everyone else and so awful with you, even if his happy moods were a farce, it felt like Grimmauld Place wasn’t the only thing he hated.

“I’m not sulking,” he finally said, resuming his movements and completing the tea. He set the kettle off the burner and placed his spoon in the sink before turning to face you, leaning against the counter as he did. “When I escaped, I hardly imagined that I’d be stuck in this purgatory, might as well tell Fudge where I am and lock me back up.”

“Suppose that makes me a dementor then?” You questioned.

“That isn’t fair-”

“Lot’s of things aren’t fair Sirius,” you replied. You were on a bit of a sour mood yourself. Dumbledore had let slip some activity in Wales that was gaining Order suspicion and he passed off the assignment to Mad-Eye even though you’d asked for it. (“I think it’s best you stay here with Sirius”) but you were sick of staying with Sirius. You were sick of the sour moods and the emptiness and the distance. It didn’t feel anything like it used to feel when the two of you were camped out in hiding in the days before Lily and James died. Maybe it was wrong of you to want to feel like that again, after so much had changed, but you couldn’t help wishing that there was something left between you and Sirius. There had been so much love before you could have drowned in it and now you were trapped in this endless draught of sorrow, wondering if all those emotions had been imagined. Were you just too young and foolish before? Had it all been in your head? What was the use of clinging onto someone who refused to let themselves love you anymore. You could do without the heartache on top of everything else.

“Good observation.” He replied, curt and with little emotion.

“I asked Dumbledore to send me on assignment,” you mentioned.

“Sick of being here?”

“Sick of feeling like this is an assignment. I waited thirteen years for you to get out of Azkaban and I swore every single day you were innocent. Lost my whole family over it...I know you went through hell there and I know this is no holiday but whenever it’s just the two of us here, feels like you can’t stand to be around me.” You admitted, toying with the bishop as you spoke to keep from fidgeting too badly.

Sirius was quiet for a long moment, holding his tea and gently blowing the steam away from the top. You knew this wasn’t exactly the conversation Sirius wanted to have first thing in the morning (though it was closing in on noonish the last time you looked). It wasn’t the conversation you had been planning on having with him either. You wanted to talk to him about the way you were feeling and maybe unpack the way he was feeling but you didn’t want to ambush him.

“I hate this house,” he finally said, “I don’t have a single good memory here.”

“I know-”

“You have no idea,” Sirius said, cutting you off.

Out of the kitchen, in the hallway, the door opened and Remus’ voice echoed through the downstairs in greeting. You looked away from the kitchen door as Sirius stood up straighter, abandoning his cup of tea to say hello to his oldest friend. While he was gone you stood and gathered up the chess set, cleaning away the remnants of the morning.

Remus didn’t venture further into the house, letting you know from the quiet sounds of their chatter and his refusal to stay longer that this was simply an update for the sake of Order business. It wouldn’t do well to be coming and going from Grimmuald Place in broad daylight so whatever the business was, there was some haste to it but nothing so frantic that you were both summoned. In fact, you stayed in the kitchen until the front door opened and closed once more, allowing Remus and Sirius their privacy.

On the occasion that Sirius was in a particularly foul mood, you found yourself tempted to remind him that Remus too, had believed he was guilty. Everyone you knew in fact, friends as well as family, believed whole-heartedly the lie that Sirius had murdered his dearest friends for Voldemort. It was you alone that insisted on his innocence. And it was you alone who weathered his awful temperament.

“What did Remus want?” You asked, stepping out of the kitchen finally and meeting Sirius in the hallway. You offered him the cup of tea that he’d left behind, the ceramic still warm.

“Change of plans for tonight, everyone’s meeting here. There’s been activity in London.” He replied, rattling off the message Remus had come to deliver as easily as he might provide you a grocery list.

“Alright,” you nodded, “any word on the sort of activity Dumbledore is seeing in London that’s so troubling?”

He shook his head, “just said there’s been activity in London.”

You were just beginning to reply when the thought occured to you that everything always felt so contrived between the two of you. It was the same thought that had been nagging at you lately, especially this morning. Your conversations felt wooden, like you were each reading your lines off boards, moving the conversation along but saying nothing to each other. You didn’t know if it was your reluctance to really, truly address the elephant in the room or his avoidance of any topic at all but you knew that you couldn’t sit through another Order meeting watching him laugh and chat and wishing that he would speak to you with even half that charm.

“I want to finish our conversation from earlier.” You said, before you could really think better of it.

“We weren’t having a conversation,” Sirius took a half step back, “I walked into the kitchen and you attacked me about my attitude toward being kept prisoner in my childhood home.”

“Then let me say this before you retreat back into your room for the rest of the day,” you reached for the banister, as if blocking his path up the stairs would stop him from getting to his room, “I know this place is hell and I’m not asking you to be happy about being here or to suddenly stop being angry that the last fifteen years happened at all. All I’m asking, is that you treat me with even a hint of respect. I have loved you for years and years, practically two decades worth of my life has been devoted to being in love with you Sirius. But I can’t keep letting you hurt me because you’re hurting.”

“Is that it?”

“No, when we see Dumbledore tonight, I’m insisting that I take the post in Wales.” You replied, releasing the banister and stepping to the side.

Without a reply, Sirius headed up the stairs to his room and you stood in the hallway, listening to the soft murmur of Walburga Black’s hateful voice. You could feel the pressure in your head settling, a wave of tears threatening to take hold of you.

It was fifth year, you remembered the exact moment like it’d happened just the day before.

Fifteen and back to school and you’d been owling your friends all summer about who you thought might couple up that year. The gossip was like a whirlwind, it swept you up and had you analyzing every interaction you saw on the train platform, waiting for the Hogwarts Express. And somewhere in the haze of it all, Sirius Black asked you to sit beside him on the ride back to school. His friends were snickering behind him as if they’d put him up to it (and probably they had seeing as you were a Hufflepuff and still awkward enough to be under the impression that you were nothing too special).

His affection for you didn’t last long, a few trips to Hogsmeade and suddenly you were simply friends. You continued on harboring a magnificent crush but it wasn’t until you graduated that he showed any romantic interest again.

“...and you’re working at St. Mungo’s?” He’d asked, keeping you after an Order meeting, both of you lingering outside the Leaky Cauldron on the muggle side. “Lily mentioned you were a healer.”

Sirius kept his hand gently on the crook of your elbow, his thumb brushing along the soft skin on the inside of your arm. He’d grabbed for you as you were leaving and now he seemed intent on keeping you there as long as you would let him.

“I am,” you replied, taking a step closer when the door to the Leaky Cauldron opened and omitted two patrons out onto the London streets. Their presence, whether because of the discussion at the Order meeting earlier in the evening or because of the general constant threat Order members seemed to carry, made him tense up. You looked briefly over your shoulder but the two were already headed down the street, arm in arm. “Would you like to go somewhere quieter? My flat’s just up this way,” you offered, gesturing to some spot beyond him.

You weren’t terribly surprised that Sirius agreed to accompany you back to your flat, it was Sirius Black after all. You knew him well enough from seven years of school together and this last year of working with the Order had proved that he had changed little from his school days. He was just as charming but you weren’t nearly so naive. Which was probably why you were so surprised to find that this wasn’t just some one night of blowing off steam sort of thing for him.

“I used to wonder...what it might have been like if Pettigrew hadn’t defected that night...if James and Lily lived.” You chanced mentioning once the meeting was over and Sirius had retired to the library. You had packed your things up and promised to send Dumbledore an owl in the morning once you had made it to Wales safely. Now it was just a matter of saying goodbye.

“None of this would be happening.” Sirius replied, looking down into the tumbler of whiskey in his hand, “Harry would have his parents.”

“I know that,” you replied, “I meant more selfishly...for us, rather. Would we have lasted? Do you think?”

“Why?”

You shrugged, “I’d just like to know if I’m holding on for nostalgia’s sake or if there’s something here and I'm not delusional. If I leave would you wish that I stayed?” You gave him a good, long while to answer but he remained motionless in the wing-back chair, staring into his drink as if it held the secrets of the universe. Finally, you stepped back out of the room and turned away from the library, taking the hall to the front door.

In the morning, you wouldn’t be surprised to find an owl already waiting at the small flat in Cardiff, a handwritten note from Sirius to let you know that you’d forgotten your favorite mug in the cupboard but that he would keep it for you until you returned.

#sirius black imagine #sirius black fan fiction #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black blurb #sirius black fic #sirius black fanfic #marauders imagine #marauders fanfic #collecting stories imagine

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strawberrysodaslut · 2 years

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Worth the Risk Pt 2. - Sirius Black x Reader

[ masterlist ] [ taglist ] [ part 1 ]

word count: 5.2k

Summary: “Following your breakup with Sirius, you look back on what lead you to dating him. When you find yourself again, you also find the truth.”

warnings: angst, hurt to comfort, mention of depression, mention of starving, throwing up, break ups, alchohol, mentions of abuse, threats, mentions of blood, violence, reader shows trust issues

The heartache that you experienced after that night with Sirius could only be described as immeasurable. You only left your dorm for classes- but you weren’t really going to them anymore. Lily would make sure to get food for you in the great hall, but you always ate less than she brought, sometimes even throwing it up.

Obviously, your friends assume your anger and despair stem from what Sirius said to you. Of course, it did, partly. But you were mainly angry at yourself for not seeing this coming, for being surprised that a Black would ever take interest in a muggle-born.

You remember when you first got your letter to Hogwarts, your mother was so confused she turned to an old friend- Clara, who seemed well versed in the mystical world. It was a cold, Sunday afternoon when she took you to visit her.

Clara started laughing and clapping when she found out you shared her magical abilities. Saying that she always had a feeling, but never wanted to mention anything to protect her own secret. The rest of the visit was spent on your mother asking questions about what life was going to be like for you, how different it would be from her own experience.

You started going to her house every Monday, Wednesday and Friday after school to catch up on what the other students at Hogwarts would’ve learned from their parents. You quickly became confident in several spells, acing a levitation spell you apparently learn in your first year.

“So now you’ll be able to show off to the other kids, they’ll be so impressed by you,” Clara whispered, trying to keep your mind focused on the spell while encouraging you.

She wasn’t sure how to approach blood superiority to you, afraid of accidentally making you feel inferior because other people think you so. But when you ask about what the difference is between muggle-borns and people born from magical parents, she decided it was best to explain it to you instead of leaving you to find out the hard way.

She started off by ensuring you that muggle-borns are in no way less witch than “purebloods” she says with quotation marks. Telling you that many muggle-horns actually have stronger control of their magic than those with a magical bloodline.

Then she explained to you the people who didn’t agree with that statement, how it was almost always the people without a drop of muggle blood in them. The Black family got brought up multiple times during her explanation, telling you the lengths they would go through to keep their blood “pure”, accidentally telling you where babies come from in the process.

But the night before you were to leave for Hogwarts, Clara had a pit in her stomach about the black family, knowing they had a child your age. God, what would he do to you? She was almost sure he was a year younger than you- or maybe a year older. She went to check, looking up the family tree they had so proudly displayed. To her dismay she discovered he would be in your year, learning alongside you.

This led to her calling your mother, begging her to tell you to stay away from Sirius Black no matter what I do. Of course, you agreed, already planning on ignoring that family if you ever got the misfortune of meeting them.

After all the practising and training you had done, you walked onto the Hogwarts Express feeling prepared, confident even. Excited to meet more magical people, learn what they know and even teach some of the muggle-borns things that you learnt.

You opened a carriage to find two boys, one with dark, long, straight hair and pale skin and the other with curly, dark hair with a pair of glasses resting on his nose. They looked about your age, maybe they were first-years too!

“Is this carriage taken?” You ask, looking between the two boys. They scrambled to move their stuff, repeatedly assuring you that it was fine.

“It’s nice to meet you both.” You say, telling them your name.

“Same here, I’m James… Potter- James Potter.” The curly-haired boy replied, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

“I’m S-“

He was interrupted by an oldish looking lady, “Anything from the trolley dears?” She asked.

James shot up, asking for a numerous amount of sweets that you had never heard of, surprised to see some of them moving.

The raven-haired boy grabbed a few snacks, but not nearly as much as James. Once he received his items he looked up and gave you a grin, waiting to see what you’d want. You stared at all the different foods, just left completely confused.

You looked up at the lady, she had the kindest eyes. “I don’t know what any of this stuff is…” you whispered, somehow anxious for your compartment buddies to hear you after they effortlessly picked out their food.

“That’s alright dear, what kind of treats do you normally have at home? What’s your favourite?” The lady said with a grin, patting you on the shoulder.

You smiled, “I really like chocolate, and raspberry flavoured stuff…also I love pumpkin” the lady tsked, nodded at you and then handed you a pastry looking thing, a little box and a small bag of raspberry jelly wands.

You go to grab your wallet, the wizarding currency you recently got tucked inside, before the kind lady interrupted you.

“I think we’ll give you a 100% off discount this time okay honey?” She said, beaming up at you.

You thanked her and sat back down with the boys, you were expecting them to ask why you didn’t know what the food was, but all they wanted to know was how you got the goodies for free.

James practically started worshipping you like a god, whereas the raven-haired boy was just telling you the stuff you should’ve ordered to try next time.

“They’re every flavour?” You asked, shocked at the concept. “How do they do that?”

The boys look stumped, they genuinely had no idea how they knew they had all of the flavours. “…magic,” James said, popping one in his mouth before spitting it on the floor. He looked up at you before smiling, “Dog poop.” He said, making you scrunch up your nose, disgusted at the idea of tasting that.

After a lot of talking, you realised that the pale boy sitting next to you hadn’t even told you his name yet. “I completely forgot that the trolley lady had interrupted you saying your name, I’m so sorry what was it?” You asked.

The raven-haired boy smiled, relieved you realised and he didn’t have to bring it up himself. “I’m Sirius- Sirius Black.”

You swore the train stopped at his words.

It was unbelievable, the one person you were meant to stay away from in the entire school ended up being half of the people you’ve met in your first hour.

Sirius noticed your change in demeanour, he wasn’t unfamiliar with that reaction, many wizards were disgusted by his family. But he was sure you were muggle-born… how could you know what his family was like? Maybe you just don’t like the name Sirius.

“I know it’s a little ‘Sirius’ for my taste,” he tries to kid, noticing the small smirk being erased from your face quicker than it arrived.

James was completely oblivious to your reaction, focusing on catching the chocolate toad that had gotten loose in the compartment.

Your heartbeat quickened, his face showed concern, but was it real? No- surely not. His family is just, horrible. You need to get out of this carriage.

“I-I’m gonna… I’m gonna go get changed and maybe check out other compartments, see if I can meet more people. W-we can catch up later okay?” You said, looking at James who just looked at you and nodded, groaning when the toad escaped through the door when you opened it.

You didn’t find another compartment, they were all full aside from the one you had been avidly avoiding. You spent the rest of the train ride in a bathroom, hoping no one would come knocking.

The castle was more beautiful than you could’ve possibly imagined. The welcoming, enchanting energy spreads all over you as you walk with the other first years.

After a short tour, you are taken into the great hall for sorting. With Black starting with a ‘B’, Sirius was one of the first people sorted. Clara told you the blacks always got sorted into Slytherin, always. So you weren’t prepared when the hat went in a different direction.

“Gryffindor!” He boasted against the room. Leading to both cheers and gasps. The people sitting with Slytherin clearly.

You stood there in shock, that was the one Clara said you were probably going to get sorted into. Your hands grew sweaty as you

It’s fine, she could still stay away from Sirius Black. All she had to do was not get into-

“Gryffindor!” The sorting hat yelled before you could even feel the weight of him on your head.

Shit.

Although Sirius was in your class, you managed to keep away from him for the first six years at Hogwarts. You had started to wonder if he really believed in his family's ways, being seen hanging out with muggle-borns and one of the members of his little group being a half-blood himself.

You still found him quite cruel, often glaring at them when they would taunt Severus, a Slytherin student in your year. You didn’t speak to him, but it stung seeing how distraught he would get. Sure, sometimes Severus would egg them on, but you still found their bullying difficult to watch.

It was equally as nauseating to see his attempts at “seducing” the upperclassmen. Most wouldn’t oblige, at first.

But as the years passed, you would often walk into the common room to find him making out with someone- always a different person, every time- while the other three nitwits giggled in the corner.

Still, you kept your distance, out of fear and embarrassment. Somehow you never got put together in any group projects even though you were in the same class. Until the last potions assessment of the year.

You spent the next three hours working in near silence aside from questions about the work. Although the last thing you wanted was conversation with Sirius, you were confused about why he wouldn't try to get on your nerves.

You heard all the stories from the people who were partnered with Sirius, if he didn't like them he'd do anything he could to piss them off, if he did he'd get them in an empty stairwell by the second study session. But he wasn't doing either to you, he was just leaving you alone. Why?

The truth was, Sirius knew you didn't like him, and not in a "thinks he's a menace, hot but still a menace" you straight up ignored him, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't figure out why. What did he do to you to make you so upset with him?

He tried to make you like him- like he really tried. Every time a prank was pulled he'd try and find your face to see if you smiled, but you never did. Nor did you ever look at him.

In third year he watched you try to clean up your messed up robes from a prank that went slightly wrong, you were crying. Badly crying.

You’d never learnt the spell to fix ripped clothing and your parents couldn’t afford a whole new uniform. So you spent the next month in detention for “improper uniform” until McGonagall realised the issue and fixed them for you.

He felt such a pang in his heart, he stopped trying to catch your eye and decided to just leave you alone. If he saw you were in a hallway of a prank, he'd organise a 'malfunction' until you were out of the blast zone.

Remus, James and Peter were quick to notice this, and after hours of teasing, they agreed to not pull any pranks on you.

On your way to your third study session, you noticed Sirius walking the opposite way to the library, turning into the prefect's bathroom. You scoffed, assuming he was following some seventh year for a hookup. As much as you didn't want to witness anything, you weren't about to get a bad grade because Sirius Black can't keep it in his pants.

You pull open the unlocked doors to the prefect's bathroom, to find him sitting on the sink counter, alone and... bloody? Why was he bleeding?

He turns to look at you, sending you a soft smile, "Might have to miss this study session if you don't mind doll,"

"What the fuck happened to you?" You said, dropping your books and rushing over to him, trying to see where all the blood was coming from.

"Snape finally stopped being a wimp- ah-" he winced, trying to sit up straight, "used some spell on me, fucking hell."

You search his body, there are dozens of different cuts littered across his face, deep cuts. Seeing the formerly white shirt now pure red, you tug at it, trying to take it off.

You look up at him, wanting permission before undoing his buttons, he sends you a smirk and raises his eyebrows. God, he thinks this is fucking funny.

"Shut up." You mutter, pulling on the shirt so hard the buttons ripped.

"Didn't say anything, maybe you're projecting darling." He tried to act flirty, but the pain just made it kind of sad.

You didnt notice though, your attention stolen by the cuts that seemed to be forming on their own across his chest. "I knew Snape was good at spells but Jesus Christ," you whisper.

Slowly, you trace the few parts of his abdomen that weren't bloody- purposely ignoring the way his muscles flex every place you touch, it's just pain. "We've got to get you Madam Pomfrey, she'll fix you up."

"Yeah, do you think I'm gonna survive that trip? Just- can you just fix the cuts?" He asked, gesturing to your wand.

"No, I can't. Look, just..." You stop to think before pulling off your robe, Sirius's eyes nearly pop out of his head when he sees you unbuttoning your shirt, exposing your bra.

"What... what are you doing?" He says, smirking a little- but mostly confused.

You rolled your eyes, realising what he must be thinking, "I'm gonna wrap these around you to get you to the medical ward."

Nothing could explain why you stayed in the medical ward.

It wasn’t that you cared about him, you really didn’t. But come on, anyone would stay for someone beaten down that bad.

After four hours and a lot of questions from the other three marauders, he was finally ready to be seen.

You let the boys go in first, they’re his friends. But Remus comes out of the infirmary after only 5 minutes.

“He wants to see you,” he says, “also he’s surprised that you’re still here.”

You laugh, entering the ward. Peter is staring at you with wide eyes while James is nudging Sirius with his elbow.

As you make your way over the boys get up and leave, James sending you a wink as they walk out.

“Hey,” you say, sitting in an empty chair. “You gave me quite the scare.”

Sirius smiles at you. moving to sit upright, “Oh no need to worry about me, I’ll be up and ready to assert my revenge on Snivellus any day now.” He says, brushing his hand through his hair.

You wince, “When are guys gonna leave him alone? I’m sorry you’re hurt, but if you gave me the shit you give him, you wouldn’t be alive to retaliate.”

Sirius rolls his eyes, "Come on, the prick deserves it.” He says, nudging your arm.

You sit up, “What did he do? What could he have possibly done to deserve this cruelty?”

“Y'know Lily? The girl James has been trying to ask out since forever?” You nod, not only knowing who Lily was but knowing the efforts James was going to to get her to date him. “He called her- uh- that word...“ he sighs, “He called her a mudblood”

You didn’t know that.

“Oh.” You say.

Sirius nods, “Yep.”

You drop your notebook on Sirius’s lap, making note that none of the other marauders are in the common room.

“What's this then?” He asks.

You open the book to the page you want, “It's a list of charms I think would help you with…Snivellus...”

He grabs the book from you, looking through the numerous pages of different spells to prank

Sirius looked over a specific spell, he had no idea where you found it. “I've never heard of this one.”

You shrug “Oh yeah, I kind of came up with it… it should still work fine though," You say, explaining the different uses for the spell.

Sirius looks at you with wide eyes, "You wrote this shit yourself?" You nodded, "Damn, you're gonna be useful"

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes, "Don't be stupid, this is just this once. I'm not gonna join you in terrorising the school." You say, taking back your notebook.

Sirius doesn’t try and get the notebook back, watching you leave with a smile on his face. "Yeah, we'll see."

It took months for Sirius to finally ask you out. No matter how much the boys tried to convince him you felt the same, he truly believed you said no.

So when you said yes, he was confused. But you weren’t, for the first time in your life, you felt sure.

He was the perfect boyfriend.

Every weekend he would take you to Hogsmeade for date night, showering you in flowers and kisses.

When you told him you wanted to wait to have sex, you were terrified. Well aware of his reputation, so you expected he’d dump you and find someone new.

Instead, he peppered kisses across your face, assuring you that it didn’t matter to him. All that mattered was that he got to be with you.

You still had your doubts, fearing that eventually he’d get bored and being with you wouldn’t be enough. But as the months passed into a year, that fear had completely gone.

He constantly told you how much he hated his family, terrified that you’d think he agreed with them. Although you used to think so, he had thoroughly explained to you the extremes he had gone to and through to keep away from that part of his family. Including living with James.

You cursed yourself for not meeting him earlier, not giving him the benefit of the doubt. He wasn’t anything like the cruel, blood supremacist, chauvinistic bully you’d built up in your head. He was amazing.

That’s why you were so surprised when he dumped you.

Lily was furious. The second you told her what Sirius said, she banged down the marauder's door to yell at him.

“I get why you had to break up with her, but to do it like that?“ She yelled, “How could you say those things to her?“

No matter how much Sirius tried to explain to Lily why he said what he did. She couldn’t understand, continuing to yell at him.

James trying to defend Sirius was the final straw, she dumped James, cursed out Sirius for the last time and stormed out of their room.

After two months, you finally felt ready to face the world again. And where’s a better place to say, “yeah I’ve been heartbroken for two months because of you but I’m even hotter now and look at what your missing.” than the Gryffindor party after winning the Quidditch game against Slytherin.

You were wearing your best dress, Dorcas and Mary did your makeup, the two of them arguably better than you could ever do and you borrowed some of Lily's jewellery.

To put it short, you were ready to show up.

Sirius was sitting with James, listening to all the cheers and compliments the other students were giving them when you walked in, as radiant as ever. Fuck, who was he kidding, you looked better than he had ever seen you.

The past two months had been torture for him. He watched the door of every class the two of you shared begging for you to walk in with that magic smile on your face. But you didn't, for weeks.

He spent every meal wallowed in sadness as he saw Lily grab your favourite foods to take to you. Absorbing every glare she sent him.

Lily was still talking to Remus and she told him all about how sad you were, how you felt too exhausted to get up to go to class, how no matter what food she brought you never finished it. He tried to keep it to himself, but Sirius and James pestered him about it so much.

So then he started to try to make you feel better, he went to the kitchen at the beginning of the day, begging them to make extra of your favourites so you'd hopefully eat more. Then return at the end of the day to see how much Lily gave back. He felt such warmth in his chest the times he saw that you ate most of the food.

He still had the letter, he kept it in the drawer of his bedside table and read it every day. 'It's a reminder,' he thought 'a reminder of why he's doing this.'

So when he saw you at the party, he was surprised. Not that you looked good- you always look good, but that you wore that smile. That damned smile, it could light up anyone's day. Well, anyone who didn't cause that smile to disappear for months.

Sirius tried to keep his eyes off of you for the party, and you did likewise. Only shooting small glances when you were near each other.

To compensate for not getting to talk to you, Sirius drank, a lot. So much he barely noticed you talking to that Hufflepuff guy, dancing with him, kissing hi- kissing him?

His heart dropped, he just wanted to get another drink when he saw the two of you. He ran to Lily, pulling her aside.

"How much has she had to drink?" He asks

She rolls her eyes, "It's none of your business Sirius, leave me alone"

He stopped her from walking away, instead of dragging Lily to the sight of you making out with that guy.

He has all of these thoughts rushing past him. Was that guy taking advantage of you? Surely that wasn't his call to make, he doesn't know your state of mind. Lily knows though, Lily would be able to give him permission to pummel his sorry ass into-

"Oh, that's Marcus." She said, smiling at the scene in front of her.

What does she mean Marcus? Who is Marcus? Why does Marcus get to kiss you?

Lily continues, "He's in Hufflepuff, our year, nice guy. He got paired with her for Potions but she was so de- unwell, so he finished it all himself. Didn't even tell her, she didn't know until she got full marks for the project." She explained.

Even when the two of you left, Sirius stayed. James had to drag him up the stairs to the dorm.

You'd moved on, you were over him. Of course, you were, that's what he wanted right? You had to move on. You wouldn't be safe if you hadn't.

The next few months were the worst of his life. He had to watch you with him, in class, at meals, in the common room. You looked so happy.

And you were, Marcus was perfect. He went out of his way to treat you so well, especially after he heard how Sirius dumped you. It took a lot to stop him from banging down the marauders' door and beating Sirius to a bloody pulp.

He took you everywhere, got you everything, listened to everything you had to say, talked about everything you loved. He was the perfect guy.

But there was this twinge, it was barely there. Really, it didn't matter. But from time to time you thought about Sirius, more than that, you missed him.

You cursed yourself for feeling so, but every time Marcus took you to Honeydukes, all you could think about was the times Sirius took you there. Every time Marcus told you a joke that Sirius already did, you couldn't help but wonder if you laughed less because you'd heard it before, or that Sirius was funnier. When Marcus told you he loved you, you wondered why you were happier when Sirius did.

It was horrible, Marcus was wonderful. But so was Sirius until the end. What would stop Marcus from doing the same? What if he was just leading you on just to leave you like Sirius did?

That’s what you claimed when your friends asked why you broke up with him. It was a fair question, everything seemed perfect, even the breakup was smooth. But you couldn’t tell them the real reason.

The truth was, even though he called you that terrible words. Said those horrible things, treated you like a rag that can be hung out to dry, you still loved him. So much.

One day, you saw Remus reading one of his books. On a whim, you decided to sit next to him and ask him the question that had plagued you for months.

"Hey Remus," You said, sitting next to him.

He said hello back, you talked for a bit about the book he was reading when you finally decided to ask. "How's Sirius doing?"

You at least partly knew the answer. While you tried your best to ignore him, you couldn't help it. You didn't know why, but he was sad. Really sad. Whenever he smiled, the light never reached his eyes. His mind always seemed somewhere else.

He was like this a bit with you, but you were able to slowly coax him out of it. Out of his own head. But no one seemed to do that. He looked trapped there, for months.

"Yeah, he's fine," Remus said, his eyes no longer meeting yours.

You grab his chin, lifting them to match your glance. "Remus, we both know that's not true. What's going on with him? Is it his parents?" You ask, believing you know how much his family caused him. You had no idea.

Remus winced, "They're a part of it." He said, struggling to come up with the right words. "Look, if you wanna know what's wrong with him, have you thought about talking to him?"

You roll your eyes slightly, "Look I'm worried about him, I'm not looking to be buddies with him. Especially after what he said to me." You said, feeling a twinge of those feelings you felt the night that you broke up.

Remus had been fighting with himself- and Sirius for months. Arguing that regardless of whether you were together or not, you deserved to know the threats that were made against you. That what Sirius said wasn't true, that it was all to protect you.

So when he saw the look in your eye when you said those words, he couldn't take it anymore.

"There's something you don't know." He said, the argument of breaking Sirius's trust still strong in his mind.

You looked up at him, "What is it?"

He got up, walking upstairs to the marauder's dorm. When he came back, he had a letter. Remus handed it to you, whispering "I'm sorry," and sat, waiting for you to read.

“ Dear Sirius,

Your father and I have recently discovered the news that you are in a courtship with a muggle family’s youngest daughter.

I cannot believe you would ever go to such lengths to upset your family. To allow a filthy, disgusting, mudblood to be associated with the black family name is a worse betrayal than you have ever committed against us.

I have asked Narcissa and Bellatrix to contact me if you are seen being intimate with the half-breed again. If I am, there will be beyond serious consequences for both of you.

Much love, Mother. “

Your eyes filled with tears, "How could he hide this from me?" You asked.

Remus scoots towards you and rubs your back. "To protect you."

Deep down, you knew the answer to what you were about to ask. "When did she send this to him?"

Remus sighed, knowing this was going to be the best or the worst thing he's ever done, "A few days before he broke up with you."

You couldn't do this, you had to get out.

You ran until you couldn't anymore. You found yourself in the astronomy tower, but you weren't alone.

The raven hair boy turned around at the sound of your crying. He should've run away, left you alone. But he couldn't.

"Hey, hey. What's wrong?" He asked, bringing you into his arms. But you kept crying. Assuming you were having a panic attack, he tried to use all the techniques he used to do to calm you down, but they only seemed to make your hyperventilating worse.

He whispered reassuring words to you until your sobs were finally coherent. "You. lied to me." You pushed at his chest, not nearly hard enough to push him away.

"What?" He asked, unsure about what he meant.

You sobbed, "The letter, I saw the letter."

His heart dropped. You knew, you knew everything. God, as much as he tried to stop himself, he waited for this moment. To clear his name in your eyes.

His eyes filled with tears, now mixing his heavy breaths with your cries. "I'm sorry, fuck I'm so sorry baby." He whispered into your hair, scolding himself for slipping into the habit.

You didn't even notice. "You promised me," a sniffle escaped, "You promised me w-we would work on these things together. How could you make a decision like that for me?" You said, voice muffled as you press his face in his sweatshirt.

He gripped your chin as soft as he could, lifting your head to look up at him. "If-if..." He choked back sobs of his own, "If her threats were true, and they always are. God, I don't know what would've happened to you. She might've even killed you."

Your eyes widened, "She wouldn't"

He kissed your forehead, "She would, and even if she didn't, how could I live with myself if I knew that I was putting your life at risk."

You sniffled, now pulling his face down for him to look at you, "Don't you get it, Sirius, you're worth the risk." You pushed your lips into his.

God, he'd be stupid if he tried to convince anyone he didn't kiss back. Your lips felt like heaven, how much of an idiot did he have to be to leave this. His grip on you was so strong, like he'd lose you forever if he dared let go.

You weren't sure what would happen, what hurt you'd face. But you knew one thing for certain.

You were never letting Sirius Black go again.

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autumns-dusk · 8 months

Text

The monsters on AO3 are standing between me and Sirius Time. I will not (will not) allow this.

#Sirius 😭#don’t take him from me not again #sirius black #marauders #marauders era #harry potter #hp fandom #harry potter fan fiction #ao3 #ffn #sirius black fan fiction #marauders fan fiction

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ransprang · 9 months

Note

[KO-FI REQUEST]

Hi! Can I request a SFW+NSFW match-up for a male Harry Potter character? I’m afab, pronouns are they/them.

I’d consider my personality to be fairly ambiverted but more extroverted around friends etc. I can be very flirty and and jokey. I have ADHD so sometimes I am spontaneous and that can lead to saying and doing things that get me in trouble although I generally try to abide by rules. I hate conflict so I’m also quite a people pleaser. I’m also more on the pessimistic/cynical side. My hobbies include reading and writing, really anything creative. I love reading and watching fantasy and romance tv and movies. I do have a soft spot for paranormal horror movies too. Also quite a fan of sudokus and puzzles and such.

My type in men is older men (I am 29 so 40s+) but I love long hair, dark hair, loud jokester or quiet stoic type. Body type: just not skinny, honestly. What I hate…being ignored, or feeling ignored or taken for granted. I hate loud noises like fireworks, balloons, thunder etc. enclosed spaces, yelling or general aggression. My most prominent love language is physical touch. But also words of affirmation and gift giving (mostly me giving) I can be very quiet, shy and timid upon meeting. Also I am demiromantic so while I can feel sexual attraction straight away, generally romantic feelings take a long while to form.

I think that’s all. Thank you so much!

thank you @dixonsgirl93 for being our first ko-fi supporter and for letting us post this <3

if anyone else would like a match up this is the link to our ko-fi :)

your match up is..... SIRIUS BLACK!!

SFW

You were quiet during your first meeting with Sirius, so naturally he made it his mission to get a reaction out of you. He tried playing pranks on you, flirting with you just to see what kind of person you were. The first time you replied to his awful pickup lines with one of your own, he was gobsmacked and has been loyal to you ever since.

You both can be quite cynical, and share a similar world view. It’s you both against a dark world, and you wouldn’t have it any other way

Sirius having spent a long time in jail made him not take any of his loved ones for granted. He will shower you with affection as much as possible. If you at any time feel ignored by him just tell him.

Sirius can be a loud man especially when he is angry or getting heated. If he makes eye contact with you while in the middle of being angry at someone else he’ll immediately have a sense of calm washing over him reminding him to lower his voice.

Sirius’s humor has toned down a bit from being a loud prankster in his schoolboy days, but you catch glimpses of it now and then. Whenever you see that maniacal glint in his eye, you know something wild is about to happen.

Some nights you both go on long walks together and stalk Harry. During those walks he turns into a dog and people think you’re crazy for talking to him.

When you guys watch horror movies together he makes sure to scare you during the build up to the pop up scare. He finds it very funny how he always gets you, even if the movie doesn't.

NSFW

Sirius is a touchy man for sure. Random hugs, kisses, touching your hips, squeezing your breasts throughout the day. He does all of this hoping to work you up and get your pussy wet and ready for his fingers.

He would work his charm on you wherever whenever. No matter if you just started dating or have been together for years he’ll use stupid pick up lines on you. Holding you by the waist he’ll bring you closer to his body. He’d make sure both your chests are pressed against each other, so he can feel all of you. He stares into your eyes and lowers his voice, “Is your favorite spell Evanesco? Because every time I see you, my clothes disappear.” He smirks at how confused and flabbergasted you look. With a swish of the wand you are both naked. He groans in pleasure taking in the sight as he pushes you onto the bed.

You can gift him sex toys and watch his eyes grow wide. “Wow love, I didn’t know you were into such things.” He’d gladly indulge in anything you bring to him. It gets him hard knowing that you want him as much as he wants you too. He will immediately try on whatever you get him and start the foreplay.

Sometimes, you enter the room and see him naked, sprawled out on the bed reading a book. He would look up “Finally home? I've been waiting for a long time. Have a seat” as he points towards his cock and chuckles to himself. He keeps the book aside and leans forward to pull you into his embrace as you can feel his hard penis against your bottom. He starts kissing your chest as he works his hands to remove your clothes.

Due to your spontaneity you end up saying what's on your mind, like when Sirius would ask if he looks good in his new coat and you jab back “Please don't rummage through Snape’s closet again.” with a smirk. Sirius laughs “Are you sure you want to say that?” - You chime back “Why not? Did I offend you?”. Sirius’s smile disappears “Looks like a brat needs some taming.” - you raise your eyebrow in confusion “Excuse me?” as he moves close to you till your noses touch. You can hear his breathing. He tilts close to your neck and bites into it as you moan. He carries you up into his arms as he pushes you against the wall. He then uses his hands to push your wrists against the cold hard concrete. You can see a mischievous smile forming upon his lips and he gets to work his magic on your body.

Sirius likes to call you to him randomly, and trace his hands along your silhouette with his eyes closed trying to remember you simply by touch and sensation. His nose picks up on your sweet scent. He opens his eyes and when his gaze meets yours, the animal in him comes alive.

When you straddle him and ride his dick up and down he feels you close up around his girth and digs his fingers into your thighs. You feel a warm feeling rise up your body as you come close to climax and you intertwine your fingers into his long locks and lightly pull as he lets out loud groans. As he goes over the edge releasing his hot thick cum inside of you.

yours magically,

admins sav, sar & san

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aeaean--bliss · 2 years

Text

desperate times | part three: room to let

summary: desperate times call for desperate measures.

pairing: sirius black x reader

word count: 1.5k

warnings: swearing, angst, mentall illness, loneliness

masterlist

a/n: as usual, posted on a whim at 3am and not yet proofread. enjoy!

part two | part three | part four

part three | room to let

“Say that again.”

The temperature in the room has dropped about thirty degrees in the space of three seconds.

“What?”

“I said,” Lily says, taking a step forward, “Say… that… again.”

“Easy,” James mutters.

The woman across from him looks from Lily, to him, to Sirius with wide eyes, blinking. Then she shrugs, turning back to Lily.

“I mean if she’s not coming back, we might as well get someone else in.”

Lily takes a deep breath through her nose, chest rising slowly as she tries to steel herself.

Do not deck your friend’s fiancee. Do not deck your friend’s fiancee. Do not deck your friend’s fiancee.

“I mean, right?”

And he just stands there, completely frozen, as she turns to look at him.

“Right, Sirius?”

He knows she’s talking to him, but he can’t register what she’s saying. His eyes are still fixed on James, not entirely believing the words that left his mouth a minute ago.

“Her bed’s not even cold yet,” Lily grits, “and you want us to start subletting?”

James’ eyes dart to the counter where he saw Lily put her wand earlier when she picked up the mug of tea that now rests abandoned on the same surface. He grabs the wand and shoves it into his back pocket so fast he’s afraid he might have stuck a hole in his jeans.

“Well, I mean, it’s like James said, she’s moved out,” the woman argues, gesturing wildly to James who can’t help but blink with the new attention on him. “Right? She’s gone.”

The scoff that leaves Lily’s lips lingers heavily in the air after she storms out of the kitchen. James doesn’t know what to say or do, just stands there, blinking at the couple in front of him. Heavy footsteps make their way down the hallway, only to approach again a moment later. She pushes the door open with such force that it slams into the wall.

“Have you seen my bloody wand?!”

“No,” James replies hurriedly, a bit too loud and a bit too quickly. “Nope, no idea.”

Lily slams the door behind her, leaving the room in yet another chill. James nods slowly, twiddling his thumbs and clicking his tongue in what he hopes is a nonchalant manner. He doesn’t have the guts to look up at Sirius, mostly because if he’s being completely honest, he knows his friend’s keeping his mouth shut and his eyes down.

If he’s really honest, he loses a bit of respect for him the longer they stand there. How many years has he known you now? It’s not even been a full day since you left, only been gone a couple of hours, and here his fiancee’s already pushing to put your room up in the paper.

Speaking of…

“I don’t understand what the problem is, if she’s gone, she’s gone, so-”

“Yeah, well, we don’t know for sure that she is gone, so,” James bites before he can stop himself, unable to conceal the childish tone in his voice.

She scoffs.

“You literally just said that she was.”

“I said she was on a mission, not that she’d gone and wasn’t ever gonna come back, I mean, Merlin! Is she not gonna have a place to come back to once she’s done?”

An uncomfortable cough comes from somewhere in Sirius’ general direction.

“Well, you said she was gonna be gone a long time!”

“Oh, so the next time you go for a holiday we should just let your room out, yeah? Kick you out and all? What am I saying, you don’t even live here! Why are you talking?”

“Alright,” Sirius says warily, stretching a hand out as though it’s supposed to mean something. “Let’s just-”

“That’s not the same,” she exclaims.

“And if she gets injured or something, or gets her cover blown, she’s just supposed to live on the street, is she? Can’t call anything ‘hers’ because she’s working for the Order?”

“To be fair, mate, you did say she wasn’t coming back.”

Sirius’ statement pulls him up short. He stands there, chest heaving more heavily than he thought it would. His eyes dart between the two in front of him, and where he was expecting to find one of them reluctant to join in, he’s met with two pairs of steel-set eyes. All that effort you put into pushing Sirius away seems to have paid off. He looks nothing short of bitter.

A myriad of sarcastic and pointed rebuttals skim over James’ tongue, but he forces them back down. Well, all but one.

“Nice of you to weigh in.”

“Oh, for Godric’s sake,” Sirius says loudly, rolling his eyes. “She’s gone! So what?!”

“Do you even hear yourself? You-”

“What the fuck does it matter, Potter?” he shouts.

“Go fuck yourself,” James says pointedly, pushing past the pair and heading for the door. “Both of you can go fuck yourselves.”

If Sirius responds, James doesn’t hear it over the sound of the door. Lily’s in the shower, so he hauls himself onto their bed and gets under the covers.

It’s fine. James will just lie here, staring at the wall. There’s rummaging in the dresser drawers and wardrobe doors, the flickering of lights on and off. He hears footsteps down the hall and the front door slamming shut as Lily leaves for her evening shift.

He was lucky you called. He couldn’t really thing of a reason to justify calling you again, considering you spoke together only just this morning. Plus, you didn’t give him a number to reach you on.

You were really only calling to double-check that you hadn’t left a curse on the loose board in the back of your wardrobe, and he, the over-eager test-bunny, had been willing to check. Even as he prodded at the dented wood with his index finger, he thought to himself; “you’re getting a bit too old to be doing something this stupid.”

Fortunately, you’d removed the curse. He’s not quite sure how he’d explain his missing finger to Lily if you hadn’t. Lily finds enough reasons to berate him these days, so he’s happy not to have the extra burden. Not that Lily’s being cruel, because she’s not. She’s just adjusting to change, and some of that change is taking longer to get used to than the rest.

He’s exhausted. He’s not even working, not even for the Order, spends all his day loafing around and still he’s absolutely shattered. It’s why he can’t work for the Order. Dumbledore says no, and that’s that. Not until he gets better, at least. He doesn’t quite know what’s wrong with him, but it’s been creeping up on him for a while now. When he thinks about it, it’s been this way for a long time. And yet, it surprises him. Catches him off guard.

People aren’t really home much these days, so he gets away with it. Even Lily’s so preoccupied with her job and her mother that she doesn’t notice. He doesn’t blame her or anything, nothing like that. In fact, he’s glad she hasn’t had the chance to notice. He’d feel even worse if she did.

“So… what’s new on your end?”

“Well,” James says, “Black and I are no longer speaking.”

“Why bloody not?”

“It’s… complicated,” James replies, voice strained. The phone line crackles gently. “It, uh… I just don’t like that awful woman and I don’t know how much longer I can hide it.”

“Fair enough.”

Thank Godric you didn’t ask any follow-up questions. You don’t need to know what’s going on; you don’t need to know that it’s you who’s at the root of it all.

If he has to try to see this from Sirius’ side - if he absolutely has to - he knows that-

“He’s just hurt, Y/N,” he sighs heavily. “He’s just really fucking hurt.”

“He’ll get over it,” you say, matter-of-factly. “He always does. You never argue for long.”

“Yeah, well, something tells me this might be different.”

“Hm.”

There’s a short pause on the line, before you speak again.

“Look,” you say, your voice low and just above a whisper. “I’ve just seen Alastor Moody walk through the front door.”

“You’d better go, then.”

“Yeah. Give Lily and Remus my love, will you?”

“Of course.”

“Oh, and by the way, I probably won’t be able to call in the upcoming weeks. Can’t tell you why.”

“Oh,” he says dumbly. “Right. Yeah, no, I understand. Just, uh…”

His head feels scrambled. With all the tension around the house lately, and Lily’s new job and Remus’ new girlfriend, talking to you is one of the few things that actually makes him feel good these days. He’s a creature of habit, James is. And he knows it. And everything just feels like it’s falling a bit apart.

“Just get in touch when you can, I guess.”

“Sure. Thanks, Potter.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

There’s a beat of silence and the call should be ended, but it isn’t.

“I mean it,” you say quietly. “Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

His nose begins to sting and his vision’s growing blurry. Maybe it’s the hay fever.

“Yeah. You too.”

He clears his throat loudly.

“Stay safe, I’ll talk to you whenever.”

Then he hangs up, not waiting for your reply.

He doesn’t quite know exactly what time Lily gets home, but he’s still curled up on his side, staring into the bedroom wall about two hours after she starts to snore.

part four

#sirius black x reader #sirius black fan fiction #sirius black imagines #marauders fan fiction #marauders imagines #harry potter fan fiction #harry potter imagines #desperate times #aeaean--bliss

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fictive-fodder · 1 year

Text

|| Second Sight : III : July 1st, 1996||

Wizarding folk did not understand your work as a Specularri. Most with the gift of Sight failed to be as tenacious and diligent as the training required. But Seers who did were highly sought after by the bereaved, even the Ministry consulted you on mysterious deaths.

The night of the new moon was usually ideal for your work, but when it coincided with the death of Sirius Black, nothing went as expected.

Read this on A03 here!

|| Word Count: 11K||

Warnings : Implied drug use

Story Chapters -

PART I - PART II- PART III - PART IV

||Author’s Note|| I am SO SORRY to those of you who have read the first two chapters and have been waiting for an update. I hope the size of this chapter compensates a bit for the gap. Your sweet messages to me of how much you have enjoyed Second Sight so far definitely helped me push through my tough spots... so thank you so much for the support. I hope that if this story has captured your interest, that this chapter holds up and pulls you in a little further. ;) Though many people love the world of Harry Potter, J K Rowling has been making problematic statements for a long time and I am glad to see people taking her most recent ignorance seriously, as the gross, transphobic, hate speech that it is. There is so much beloved content that contains problematic, dangerous or inappropriate elements. Or, the author sucks. If we don’t learn to accept the good content while learning to acknowledge, highlight, and stand against the problematic content, we are throwing away most of the creative stories in our world. And that’s a shame, I’d rather we reclaim it and make it better. So even though this is Harry Potter fan fiction, this story centers around a non binary reader. It is my hope that anyone feels like they can slip into this story, and be apart. I want to make space for all who are willing to salvage this story. Any trans folks and gender queer folks who are here, reading, as I ramble on- Hi. You are welcome here. Thanks for giving me your time. <3

|| Tag List|| @hogwarts-1d-drarry-stan @srhxpci @loonyclaris

It only took Fudge two weeks to get sacked since Voldemort had been seen. The headline was unavoidable as you walked through St. Mungo’s, SCRIMGEOUR SUCCEEDS FUDGE . You glanced at the lion-like face of the new Minister of Magic as you headed towards the Specularri Wing, his photograph clasped in the ocean of hands holding today’s copy of the Daily Prophet.

It reminded you of a few years ago, when Sirius Black’s cruel, laughing face had been plastered to every shop corner, every street light, and how different he looked from when he had attended Hogwarts.

You’d hated that flying lessons were compulsory for first year students. Though you had only been a few feet off the ground you fell on your hip hard, knocking the breath out of you.

You gasped and hiccuped as tears filled your eyes, more out of shock and self consciousness than pain as you heard laughter coming from the other side of the pitch. That had been Sirius, leaning against the shoulder of Gryffindor’s star quidditch seeker, James Potter. Those four boys were heroes to the Gryffindors in your term, somehow achieving top marks while also receiving more detentions than any other students. They caught everyone’s attention during feasts in the Great Hall, making a spectacle out of themselves and driving Professor Mcgonagall absolutely mad.

You’d seen them pranking Filch in the corridors between classes and sneaking out of the grounds during the night. Really, plenty of older students acted like that, but those four seemed to attract more notice than anyone else.

“You okay?” James had asked, kneeling down before you. He smiled at you reassuringly, even as his three friends continued to chuckle. It clicked then, those other two had been Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew. Notorious in school as well as out, the four of them.

“Yes-“ you had stammered, forcing yourself up despite how badly your side still hurt. Behind James, Sirius was clutching his own chest as he laughed again, he pantomimed falling off of a broom. Peter burst into laughter, nodding.

“I bet it was the broom. Those rentals Hooch gives you first years are pathetic. Here-“ James held out his own for you to try, “I bet you’ll be able to show me a thing or two now!”

“I don’t like flying.” you replied, taking a step back from James’ broom.

“What a relief-“ James laughed, “Now I don’t have to worry about you showing me up!”

You watched as James winked and then flew to his friends, kicking off from the ground powerfully. Sirius raised his arms into the sky above him, and as soon as James got close enough, he grabbed the neck of James’ broom, digging his heels into the earth, laughing as he tried to drag him down.

It had seemed like Sirius was always laughing, though it was very different from the laugh he had in those posters.

The memory unnerved you as you suddenly realized that you now knew Remus. That he was the only surviving member of that group. They had felt like titans back then, untouchable- but that hadn’t been the way of it, not really. They ended up just as vulnerable as anyone else.

You wondered if the Ministry had ever used a Specularri to reach out to James and Lily Potter for Harry’s sake, or if they had reached out to Peter for details on Sirius Black.

As you walked into the Specularri wing, Aurelia waved you down.

“Yes?” you asked, walking over to her desk.

“Good afternoon!” she smiled brightly at you, “There is a client waiting for you in your office.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, a Mister Timothy Le Tor?”

“Ah, Timothy.” you nodded. For the last three years, Timothy had met with you once a month to scour your mirror for someone named "Shelby" who he claimed was a lost love of his. Unfortunately, Shelby had never before appeared. Though Timothy's general demeanor was always a little discouraged, he never seemed to mind too much, always enjoying the long chats he got to have with you.

As you walked to your office a sinking feeling took over you. It has been almost two weeks since the first time you’d tried Asterius’ candle. It had taken you days to feel normal again, and on top of your health you had appointments to keep. A large part of you wished you could have wholly focused on Padfoot, but Byron had made you promise to wait until he found some herbs to help keep you stable and safe.

The coincidences unfolding around you of Sirius Black’s death, Asterius being connected to Regulus Black, and your involvement with the Order of the Phoenix only further pushed you into wanting to devote yourself entirely to Padfoot’s aid. How would it connect? That conundrum vexxed almost as much as not having spoken to Padfoot in so long- since it seemed likely that it was connected to him.

You just hoped, very much, that it wasn’t in the way you feared.

As you sat down, Timothy smiled lopsidedly at you from across your table. You poured water into your phiale and ignored the sinking feeling of guilt in your stomach- you wished that Padfoot had somehow appeared through any of the sessions you’d had in the last week.

“How have you been?” Timothy asked, as you focused on the mirror.

“Oh, you know, very busy.” you replied, squinting into the darkness your mirror reflected.

“Of course.” Timothy granted, nodding slowly. “Probably getting just as much work as is good for ye, hm?”

“Yea, Tim-“ you replied, raising your wand.

Fifteen minutes passed of multiple attempts to call Shelby, but it all went up in black smoke. You ended up doing as you always did, lighting the candle mundanely to see if ‘Shelby could find her way to you’. This always seemed to reassure him, even though you knew it was nonsense.

Timothy was busy telling you what he’d been up to for the last month when a dark silhouette appeared in your mirror.

"You’re smarter than this, mate... you know there’s no Shelby, eh?" Padfoot asked.

Eyes widening, you choked on your breath and coughed. “Padfoot?” you exclaimed, spluttering.

Timothy looked over at you, alarmed. “Are you alright my dear?”

Stunned, you glanced between your mirror and Timothy. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and offered it to you.

“Oh- um, yes.” you replied, waving away the handkerchief, “Sorry. There was just a disturbance but it’s nothing.”

“Rude-“ Padfoot murmured.

“You didn’t see her, then?” Timothy asked.

“No, not yet. I am happy to keep looking nevertheless!” you assured, giving him a strained smile. Timothy smiled back at you. Of all the times for Padfoot to come back. You felt a lightness in your chest as you recognized his silhouette, the messy shape of his long hair. Your heart ached- he couldn’t possibly be Sirius Black, could he?

“Do you have loads of customers today?” Timothy asked with a bashful laugh. “I don’t want to be too greedy with your time.”

You heard Padfoot snort. “He does want to be greedy with your time, actually.”

You tried to keep your expression neutral as you focused on your client, “No, Tim- don’t worry at all. We have time to keep looking for Shelby!”

“I could be a right good Shelby…” Padfoot purred, running his hands through his hair. “Want to give it a try for this poor bloke?”

You shot a glare into your mirror. “Quiet-” you whispered. “What?” Padfoot cried innocently, “I’m telling you! He’s not mourning! He’s here for you!”

“Ah yes you usually work well into the night, don’t you?” Timothy asked.

“Yea, it’s a great job for night owls.” you replied distractedly.

“I suppose that means Mrs. or Mr. Specularii doesn’t get to see too much of you?”

“Huh?” you replied, dumbly.

“Oh, come on now, Tim…” Padfoot sighed solemnly.

“You know…” Timothy nodded, you watched his tongue run over his teeth. “Whomever I’m taking you away from?”

Timothy’s question left a wake of silence that Padfoot eventually broke.

“Well,” Padfoot mused, satisfied. “He shot his shot.”

You had to tilt the mirror away from you for fear of laughing. Taking in a deep breath, you forced your expression to stay neutral. “No,” you responded finally, bearing a small smile, “the only thing that is waiting for me at home is ignored mail.”

Then you stood up and held out your hand to Timothy. “Until next time? Aurelia can help you book an appointment at reception.”

“Yes, perhaps better luck next time too!” Timothy chuckled, shaking your hand before seeing himself out of your office.

With a heavy sigh, you slumped back into your chair.

“…I may not know my own name but one thing is clear: I definitely understand the underpinnings of romance.”

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your mirror back into view.

“But, more importantly… no spouse, Specularii? Odd.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” you hissed, frowning.

Padfoot barked a laugh. It was a sonorous, low sound that came from deep in his chest. Despite all of the anxiety and concern that has taken hold of you in the last week regarding him, you felt yourself smile. "I meant nothing at all. What a high standard you hold me to! You should give me at least as much leeway as you give dear Timothy."

“Yes well, I know Timothy.” you explained, rolling your eyes. “You’re still strange to me, a mystery, you could be suspicious of something-” you felt a lump well up in your throat at the thought of this half joke half conjecture. Please don’t be Sirius Black, you wished inwardly.

"What? You, who makes a living speaking to the dead, is calling me suspicious and strange?" he chuckled.

“Alright alright-” you laughed, “So, how long has it felt for you since the last time we spoke?”

“I couldn’t say. I was quite angry with you, you know… for endangering yourself like that. I spent some time avoiding this place in the hopes of deterring you.”

You bristled, offended that he did not better appreciate your efforts to help him. How could he know how dangerous scrying could be, when he had admitted he was never interested in divination? But before you could respond, Padfoot continued.

“But then I remembered something about myself. Something small, but something that feels as if it must be very important… and I realized how much I need you. How much I am going to need you to help me, not for my sake as much as theirs.”

Holding your breath, you leaned closer to your mirror. “Who? What did you remember?”

“Just a name, but really- I can’t think of anything else. It’s obsessive.”

“What name?”

“Harry.”

You sat back in your chair as an unsettling chill fell heavily over you. This was it. He must be Sirius Black. You kept silent out of panic, as your hands rose to cover your mouth. You forced yourself to breathe through your fingers as you felt your skin prickle, hair stand on end.

This was the murderer of Peter Pettigrew, one of the most loyal servants to the Dark Lord. He had to be.

“Hello?” Padfoot called, his voice was still so pleasant despite the turn that had come over you.

You frowned, hadn’t he called the Black family degenerate? You pressed your hands to your face and made yourself breathe again- it was so hard to make sense of. It was all too frustrating.

Did it really matter who he was? Your oath to heal was not conditional… but you didn’t think it was inappropriate to have concerns about freeing a murderer, either.

“What is it?” Padfoot asked wearily.

“I’m thinking.” you replied sharply, then immediately felt guilty for snapping. Padfoot didn’t know who he was, he still seemed so innocent. You shook your head and pulled your hands away from your face. “The only way to get you out of there, as far as I have found, will come from using those candles, Padfoot.” you started, tone heavy with the weight of your turbulent feelings.

“But, will they work or will you just get sick trying?” he replied, voice darker, skeptical.

“I know that they are …designed to do that, yes. Whether or not anyone has been successful, I do not know.”

“No-“ Padfoot cursed, pacing frustratedly. “I can't let you do that- it’s too dangerous.”

You felt your face grow hot, whether out of flattery or indignation you were not sure.

“To be frank with you, Padfoot, you don’t really have the luxury of making these decisions.” your arm jerked as you fought the impulse to reach out to him, to touch the side of your mirror. “I am a Specularii, and I took an oath when I began my practice to help anyone I can. Even if you did not want to be free from whatever place you’ve become trapped inside, it is my responsibility to help you and understand it.

“What if others are vulnerable to being trapped there too? What is that place? Is it a place? How can we help to make it safer? These are all thoughts that have kept me awake at night- I need to understand what happened.”

“I see.” Padfoot replied, coolly.

“What is it?” you asked, why did he sound offended?

“Nothing at all…” Padfoot said, clearing his throat. “I just thought we-“

“…We what?” you asked.

“That we… got along, too.”

“You’re ridiculous.” you frowned, shaking your head. “I- I mean I do like you, you’re so-” you stopped yourself from continuing as you thought about how easily you’d relaxed around him. How you caught yourself wondering if he thought of you throughout the day, and replaying the conversations you’d shared with a smile on your face. “You’re upset that I’m not only interested in helping you but also wanting to understand the place that was capable of trapping you?”

“You’re quite good at sounding empathetic and invested.” Padfoot replied coolly. “But I suppose that is a part of your trade. And I… Well, I guess I have just been lonely enough to read something more into all this. Not that I enjoy admitting that.”

Your mouth fell open as he continued.

“I understand better now, I am a strange unknown man and this place is a mystery- waiting to be solved. A professional inquiry. It doesn't matter what I am comfortable with- how you may endanger yourself. You’re calling the shots.”

“Padfoot!” you exclaimed, frowning.

“All I know is that I need to get to Harry.” Padfoot continued, “Whatever it takes.”

A sharp pain flitted through your chest at his words. Whatever it took? Meaning, for Harry’s sake your safety was a worthy compromise? It was contrarian to be offended since you were insisting on using Asterius’ candles, but it didn’t matter- something about Padfoot’s acceptance still hurt, regardless of how stupid that felt. You watched as Timothy’s candle bubbled and pooled with hot wax, it was getting close to putting itself out.

“Alright.” you nodded, “Then we start again, tonight.”

You couldn’t see your kitchen table beneath the piles of morning glories that Byron brought over. With repeated swishes of his wand, Byron heaped the flowers into a large pot, set to boil. “This tea should do the trick!” he hooted, looking over at you with an optimistic light in his eyes. “You’re gonna feel great.”

You looked up from the stack of old divination books you had unearthed from storage. Most of these contained your notes from your studies in Greece and Rome, few were handwritten by your mentors, who as far as you knew, still dwelled in those sacred caves and temples, teaching whoever was clever enough to find them. You had been going through every line of them, looking for anything that referenced the place Padfoot was trapped in.

“You just think this wouldn’t have been the first time this has happened-“ you groaned, pushing a book away from you hopelessly.

“You mean apart from myths?” Byron asked, stirring his concoction.

“What myths? What myths can you think of where someone is trapped inside a mysterious temple?”

“Eurydice and Orpheus? Uh… Dante’s inferno?”

“Those are both about Hell.” you snorted.

“Well you haven’t made it sound like a holiday there.”

“But Eurydice and Dante were dead.” you laid your head down on the table. “Padfoot isn’t dead.”

“You’re thinking awfully literal for someone who has more magic in one pinky than most have at all.” Byron laughed as he took a cup from your cupboard and dipped it into the pot. He placed the mug in front of you and sat to your side. “Try it.”

You groaned again, sitting up to look Byron in the eye unenthusiastically.

“Don’t give me that face.” Byron laughed, nudging you with his elbow. “What do we have so far?”

“Well the candles seem to work, but they aren’t good for you.” you began listing, pressing your hands around the warm cup. “We think that Padfoot is a Black, and that's it!”

You didn’t have it in your heart to tell Byron about the Harry conversation, you wouldn’t be able to handle his reaction about the possibility that you were interacting with Sirius Black.

Byron wrinkled his nose at you. “Merlin’s beard, you're a pessimist. There’s Asterius? He’s obviously got some experience with this, and he knows the Black family.”

“How reliable will he be, though? Why would he even want to help me?”

“From what you told me it doesn’t sound like he’s changed much.” Byron mused, rifling through his bag. “When I used to work with him, well- knew him, rather… He was obsessed with some pseudo scrying that I bet you this Dorea aunt character taught him. He wanted to learn anything I could teach him to help him get better. He was fixated on Regulus, about connecting to his memory. I bet you anything if he knew that you were talking to someone from the Black family, in a place like you’ve described, he’d be desperate for details.“

“I suppose I could ask him the next time I go to buy these blasted candles.” you shrugged, smiling at Byron despite your mood. “Do you… really think it’s Regulus?”

“Dunno, but I do think it might be worth askin’ Tonks about-” “Why?”

“They had you lookin’ for Sirius Black, right?”

“So?” you asked, surprised by the defensiveness in your tone. Byron didn’t seem to notice however, as he continued on.

“So they are obviously workin’ on something involving the Black family… probably some Auror business. They might know a thing or two we don’t about Regulus.”

“Even if that is true, why would they help me? Could they?”

“Why don’t you join me at the next Order meeting and we will find out?”

Your heart did a little jump. Attending an Order of the Phoenix meeting felt like a level of involvement you didn’t know if you were prepared for. Byron watched you toil inwardly, reading your face as if it was a book. “C’mon!” he chuckled, pinching your arm.

“You act like it’s a summer camp.” you said, raising your eyebrows. “I know you regret not being a part of it the first time around but please remember Byron, it’s very dangerous. You’re putting a huge target on your back being affiliated with these people.”

You were surprised to see Byron smile at you, an odd sense of calm overcame you as he listened to you with patience and an uncharacteristic grace.

“Alright.” he replied, simply.

You frowned, which seemed to make Byron smile wider. He knew you would be contrarian like this, he knew it would bother you if he didn’t argue.

“Well, when is it?” you asked, rolling your eyes.

With a hoot, Byron clapped his hands together, victoriously. “End of this week!”

“Oh good, hopefully I will be conscious by then.” you scoffed, glancing at the cup in your hands.

“Drink up-” Byron said, nodding, “and you’ll be fine tomorrow morning, I just know it.”

The morning glory tisane Byron had concocted for you was so bitter it left your tongue feeling shriveled and stuck to the roof of your mouth. Nevertheless, as the sun began to set, you forced several cups of it down your throat in the hopes of having a better time using Asterius’ candles.

After your third cup a weighty calm fell over you and your limbs tingled as if they had fallen asleep. It helped to keep your nerves at bay as you, once again, set up your mirror and your phaile on your kitchen table. You didn’t know what to expect, after the last conversation you’d had with Padfoot he’d become so fussy. You shook your head to yourself as you thought about how touchy he was- so much for frightening you as one of the world’s darkest, most notorious wizards.

Maybe it was the effects of the tisane lowering your inhibitions but Padfoot seemed far more petty than terrifying. You stopped yourself from thinking about how Padfoot might change when he remembered who he was and chuckled to yourself in the face of all your anxieties. At least if you were thrown in Azkaban for aiding a known murderer you would already be friendly with your cellmate.

At dusk you sat down before your table and placed the half melted candle in front of your mirror. With a deep breath you gripped your wand tightly and held your arm straight out to your side. “Padfoot.” you called out, your voice rang strong through your home as you flicked your wand. Immediately, white smoke bloomed from the spark your wand conjured. You hastily guided it to Asterius’ candle, and just like last time, the candle’s wick took to the spark instantly, with a strong hiss like a stick of dynamite. You watched it for a moment, noting the notch Byron had pressed into the wax last time to indicate where you should stop. Your stomach did a little flip, if things felt good, should you really stop? It wasn’t like Padfoot could wait forever to be saved.

This time already felt different. Despite these candles burning much slower than the ones you usually worked with, the loud hiss of the wick burning up had made you feel rushed last time. Now you didn’t feel hurried at all, the sound was still noticeable, but it felt like a background element instead of something grabbing your immediate attention.

Nevertheless, as the smoke began to waft up from the candle you felt an immediate sting in your chest. You coughed into your hands, eyes widening as you noticed that your coughs echoed over and over, as if the sound was traveling through a network of corridors. You forced yourself to take several slow, shallow breaths so you would not choke on the smoke and looked around. Once again, you could glimpse the darker shadowy pillars of temple Halls filling the inside of your flat. You reached over in your chair to try and touch one of the carved columns nearby, but your fingertips passed through it without resistance. You wondered if that would ever change.

Forcing yourself to sit up, you looked around at your darkened flat, and shivered. You could faintly hear the whispers that Padfoot had described, but you couldn’t tell where they came from. Several slow, careful breaths later, you stood- instinctively ducking your head as you passed under an archway.

“Padfoot?” you whispered, narrowing your eyes. “Hello?”

From across the room you could see Padfoot’s silhouette stumble into view through your bedroom wall. “Damn it-“ he growled, his hand on his chest as he lumbered over to you.

Your eyes widened at his staggered approach. “What’s happened?” you asked under your breath.

“That thing was following me-“ he growled, patting the left side of his chest as if it was burning him.

Without thinking, you reached your hands out to touch where he seemed to be hurt. Your heart skipped a beat as your fingers actually met his chest. You gasped, surprised that he wasn’t as incorporeal as the walls and quickly withdrew your hand, looking into his shadowed face with eyes wide. “I’m sorry!” you breathed, holding your hands firmly at your sides. Padfoot glanced down at his chest, still registering the interaction.

“Well…” he started gruffly, “First time I’ve had that reaction. Never had a complaint before. Usually gropers are more impressed… your standards do seem to be quite high.”

“I WAS NOT-”

“Hush!” Padfoot interrupted you, grabbing you by the shoulders, he pulled you down so that you were both kneeling. He pushed you against the corner of the nearest arch, standing up on his knees to shield you from whatever he heard down the Hall. Your heart sank as a thought came to you: these were not the actions of a murderer. He had to be someone else. He couldn’t be Sirius Black.

“We will have to keep quiet for now…” Padfoot whispered, glancing at you from over his shoulder. “I don’t think it knows this place but I’d rather it not find out.”

“...What is it?”

“Dunno.” he sighed, “It glows so… as soon as I see any light at all I avoid it.”

“It… glows?” you asked, frowning. This place made you feel like you didn’t know anything about the topics you were supposed to be an expert on. “What do you mean it glows?”

Padfoot raised a hand, at a loss. “Sorry I think I left my thesaurus at home… it emanates light? Very shiny? Candle-like?”

No… maybe he was an awful, murderering, dark art fanatic.

“You’re very good at looking angry even when I can’t see your face.” he continued, nodding. “Quite impressive.” “You know-” you sighed, tone flat, “I am starting to see why you might have ended up in a place like this. You were probably banished here by all you hold dear.”

“Is this the charm and professionalism you grant to all your clients?” You opened your mouth to respond before you noticed that Padfoot was still pressing one of his hands against the spot on his chest. He saw your attention snap to it and his hand fell immediately.

“Padfoot…has it hurt this whole time?”

“Hardly,” he replied, standing up. “I think we’re safe.”

Padfoot leaned down and offered you a hand. Curiously, you took it and he pulled you up easily. It really felt as if you were in just a dark room with him, you could feel the lines on his palms, the jerk of his muscles contracting as he pulled you up so you stood beside him. You appraised his silhouette, trying to conjure the Sirius Black from your school memories and transpose your recollections against the man before you- but quickly decided that felt too unreliable and desperate.

You looked around the corridor for any traces of light. “How often do you run into it?”

“Not often at all.” Padfoot answered quietly.

“Good…” you replied, unnerved. You frowned down the corridor. “Is there anything else you know about it?”

“I’ve heard it talk?”

“Oh-kay.” you wheezed, running your hands through your hair. “So it’s a person? What do they say?”

“Well it's not like I usually stick around to find out.”

“Of course.” you nodded, scratching your chin in thought. Padfoot’s injury had persisted since you’d met him nearly a month ago. It would be horrible for him to come to any harm while here, since you were unsure why he wasn’t recovering and had so little understanding of how or even if he existed physically in this place. You on the other hand were not really there… it would not be so dangerous for you to look into whatever else wandered these Halls. “Padfoot, can you take me to the place you usually speak to me? Through the glass?”

“That depends.” He replied. “You do this in your home, right? What if you bump into something, or what if it is outside?”

“I think I can manage those sorts of mild inconveniences as they come.”

You felt his hand wrap around yours and tried to hide the impression it had on you, but quietly, you marveled at how real he felt, as you resisted thinking about touching his face, running your fingers down his jaw, trying to get a sense of what he looked like by touch alone. Padfoot brought you through Halls with an unthinking familiarity. It made sense that he would have spent his time memorizing the Halls, what else was there for him to do? You had to follow along slowly, avoiding furniture and walls in your flat as he carefully led you along. The truth was, the longer you stayed with him, the harder it was for you to see your flat beneath the superimposed shadows of the Halls. It thrilled you as much as it scared you.

When you passed by your kitchen table you slowed down to check on the candle. It had already burned down to Byron’s mark.

“What is it?” Padfoot asked wearily.

“I was just checking on the candle. We’re in my kitchen.”

“Oh really?” Padfoot hummed, coming to a halt. Curiously, you squinted to where his eyes should have been, hoping to illuminate his features but it did nothing. You watched his shoulders rise as if he was tensing up.

“What are you doing?“ you chuckled.

“Trying to see your kitchen!“ Padfoot replied, as if it should be obvious.

“Nosy. It’s a one way street, I’m afraid.” you smiled,

“So how is it supposed to work, then?”

“The candles?” you sighed, bracing yourself for Padfoot’s dissatisfaction with how little you really knew, “Based on my… research, if I had burned these candles until the next new moon I would be able to exist here just like I do in the real world.”

“Damn.” Padfoot huffed.

“Right- so, the new moon is this weekend, and this is only the second time I’ve burned them so I doubt we will have success-”

“How many times would need to burn them for it to count?”

“There are eight moon phases- so I believe it would have to be at least that many.”

“But you are doing much better this time than last time.”

“Yes! My colleague Byron is exceptional with divinitory herbology and he developed this potion for me to drink before burning the candle. It seems to be helping a lot-” “That is a relief.” Padfoot squeezed your hand. You fought the urge to squeeze his back.

“I am thinking that it being so close to the new moon is the reason why we can touch, but I still go through the walls?” you thought aloud, running your hand through a pillar.

“Why would I be different than the rest of it though?”

“Because you haven’t been here long, you’re more like me than you are like this place.”

“Well, that is reassuring.” Padfoot replied tugging on your hand. “Are we good to keep going?”

You glanced back at the candle, the line that Byron’s mark had been burned through. A dart of excitement shot through you as you answered, “Yea- let’s get to that room.”

Padfoot pulled you through your kitchen, watching as you had to shift around furniture he couldn’t see, before he passed through the wall beside your front door. “Oh! Hold on-” you called, waving your hand over your knob to unlock it. You stepped through, closing the door behind you.

“Fuck this is weird, for Godrick’s sake.” Padfoot laughed under his breath. “You out of your flat now?”

“Yes-” you grinned, the air felt electric with excitement. A shiver ran through you, elated by how little the candles were affecting you. The corridor you’d stepped out to was even darker than your flat, allowing you to see more of the Temple than before.

“Just thought of something-” Padfoot started, pulling you along. “When we met for the first time you were at St. Mungos? That’s where you work, yea?”

“Yea-” you nodded.

“So, how's the walk from your place to St. Mungos?”

“Oh.” you stopped. “Is it really that big?”

“Yes.”

Your mind reeled with this information. “Alright-“ you hummed, thinking. “No problem.”

“Oh no?” Padfoot asked brightly.

“No- that’s fine. Because you know how to get there and you said the place where we meet tonight, where my flat is, is a safe place too. So, there are two places where we can rely on meeting with one another.”

“True.” Padfoot replied, it sounded like he was smiling. He pulled you down the hallway of your apartment building, but as you neared the stairs, the feeling of his hand against yours thinned. You frowned, glancing back behind you. It hadn’t occurred to you in your excitement that the further away you got from Asterius’ candle the less powerful it would be.

“Stop-” you called out, now completely unable to feel his hand. The faintest suggestion of Padfoot turned to look at you, head tilted.

“What is it?”

“I didn’t think about this-” you groaned, sighing frustratedly. How could you have been so stupid. “I can hardly see it all anymore- I’m too far away from the candle. I don’t know how to-”

“What?” Padfoot called over your explanation. It was clear he was having a difficult time seeing and hearing you, too.

“I have to go back-” you growled under your breath, your face hot with anger. “Damn it-”

You ran back towards the candle, surprised to feel tears in your eyes. It had been going so well. You hadn’t expected that you’d be able to touch him- the idea that your ability to be there had improved so much in two uses was beyond enthralling. You threw open your front door with a frustrated shove, eyes falling immediately to the candle on your table. Just as before, most of it had melted onto your table. Your shoulders fell as you lunged towards the table, frowning at how small and useless the candle had become- the flame was taller than the remaining wick. You cursed again, your voice breaking under your breath as you stared, uselessly at the flame. You hated it- you hated not knowing what to do. It had been so long since you didn’t know what you were doing.

A hot, wet hiss came from the candle as the flame touched a mound of wet wax. Surely, you had only seconds before it would go out.

“I’m here-” Padfoot’s voice rushed back into your awareness. You could feel him standing behind you. “What can I do?” he asked, alarmed.

You tried to speak, but you were too frustrated with self helplessness. Could you use the flame to light the other candle, or was the connection going to break no matter what? You turned to try and look at Padfoot’s silhouette, eyes wide and full of hot, angry tears. With a normal client, you would have never let yourself get so worked up- it made you even angrier with yourself.

“I’m sorry-” you hated how your voice wavered. “I didn’t think about how far away I could get. And- and I don’t know how to change that yet.”

“It’s alright-” he said quickly. You felt Padfoot’s large hands run up your arms and grip your shoulders tenderly. “You have been the only hope I’ve had. You don’t have to know everything, just having you thinking of me is enough-”

The candlelight died. Your balance wavered as Padfoot’s hands against your shoulders disappeared. “No-” you breathed, spinning around to your table. “No, no, no- '' you moaned as you were able to just make out the wispy smoke wafting up from the candle’s freshly extinguished wick. A wave of self loathing flooded you- of course you couldn’t get too far away from the candles. Whatever Asterius used to make them, you had to be able to breathe in their vapor to gain the effects.

You rubbed your eyes as hot tears rolled down your cheeks. You hated this. You hated not knowing what step to take next, not being able to explain everything to Padfoot, let alone yourself. As you gulped in air with your frustrated cries, your breath caught on the candle smoke, and you began to cough . You cleared your throat against your arm, holding the side of the table as you breathed through the burning sensation of choking in your throat, but then you continued to cough, unable to stop.

Slowly, you made your way back to your bed leaning against the walls as you did, bent over with the force of your coughing. When you finally fell onto your mattress, you were coughing so hard you had begun to gag for air.

You closed your eyes, tears still falling from them as you gasped. Part of you thought you could still hear Padfoot, even feel his hand against your chest, trying to urge you to breathe slowly.

You rubbed your eye as Byron led you down a street in downtown London. Just like the first time you’d use Asterius’ candles, it felt like there was something like a hair, scratching your eye and irritating the periphery of your vision.

“Stop touching it, you’re just going to make it worse.” Byron murmured as you halted in front of an old home.

“Oh leave me be.” you grumbled, continuing to rub your eye.

“Bit late for that, love.” Byron chuckled, wrapping a warm, heavy arm around your shoulders. “It’s all red now- are you sure you didn’t just scratch it?”

You’d woken up that morning short tempered- only Byron would have been able to convince you to go out after work and deal with the outside world with the mood you were in.

“Take a big breath with me-” Byron started, moving to stand in front of you. He plied as he started to dramatically inhale.

“No- Byron, come on-” you groaned, exhausted. “I don’t want to breathe.”

“In-” he nudged you, taking another performative big breath in. Scowling, you inhaled slowly, letting him count to 5 before you exhaled. “Good!” he smiled, pushing the pad of his thumb against your chin. “Don’t you feel better?”

“Exquisite.” you replied flatly, looking up at the housing block you’d walked into. “Where are we?”

“Here! I think-” Byron answered as he peered around.

“Huh- not exactly what I expected.” you blinked, looking around at the old, aristocratic houses. When you had woken up that morning, you were positively surprised to realize that you’d woken up when you normally would have in the late morning. Even work had gone smoothly enough, all of your clients were familiar and easy- but it hadn’t stopped you from being in a terrible mood. You knew it was an accomplishment, but you were already starving to understand more of how everything worked- to answer the problems you’d discovered last night: How could you travel while maintaining a connection to Padfoot? Was there a way to make the candles last longer?

“I was told that we should just wait by this bench…” Byron hummed nervously, trying to look around inconspicuously.

“So you were.” A voice said from behind the two of you.

“Ho there!” Byron jumped, whirling around. You had also started, pivoting to find Remus Lupin looking at you both fondly.

“For you, Bryon-” he said, smiling coyly as he handed Byron a piece of parchment. “And for you.” he continued, handing you a similar piece.

You unfolded it curiously, your irritation briefly forgotten as you read the long, slanted writing on the inside of the note. #12 Grimmauld Place. Before you could greet Remus properly, you were distracted as a new home suddenly appeared into existence before you.

“Oh-” you began, glancing back at Remus, who nodded, encouraging you to approach. You had to admire the magic that would have gone into concealing a house in this way. You had no idea how it could have been done, but it was inspiring to wonder. Byron followed suit, watching as you stepped up to the top stair on the stoop and pulled your wand from your robes. Intuitively, you tapped a wooden pane of the home’s exterior with the top of your wand, and watched as the exterior wall slid open to reveal a long, dark, narrow hallway. Byron whistled low behind you. “Say this Order’s got some real class huh?”

“I’d hope so.” you tried to sound unimpressed. You felt Byron shift his weight behind you.

“What are you waiting for?”

“I don’t know.” you replied under your breath. There was something to the feeling of this house, dark and dusty, regal and outdated, that felt sad. “Doesn’t it…” you began, frowning.

“Feel like when we make house calls?”

“Yea-” you glanced back at Byron, reassured that he felt it too. Even though you hadn’t seen anyone yet, it felt like a house in mourning.

The wall behind you slipped closed again with a clap of wood and stone, you and Byron both jumped as a scream came through the hallway.

“BLOOD TRAITORS IN MY HOUSE! THE NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK HAS BEEN FOREVER STAINED BY YOUR PRESENCE! YOU ARE NOT WEL-” a woman screamed, before suddenly stopping. Two far less haunting voices followed,

“I THOUGHT YOU TOOK CARE OF THAT!”

“I said I would get it off the wall, not that I could get her to stop screaming!”

“THROW IT AWAY!”

“I tried! Kreacher kept bringing it back in!”

“Unbelievable!” the first voice growled. You felt Byron’s hands grip your shoulders as uneven footsteps fell heavily down the hall. Your eyes squinted as you made out a silhouette turning into the corridor before you through the low light.

“Alright?” Byron called, his fingers digging into your shoulders.

“Ouch, Byron! Stop being such a baby-” you hissed, trying to shrug him off.

“Well who are you then?” The silhouette shouted as they began to hobble closer. Your eyes widened with dawning comprehension as you noticed the peg leg.

“Alastor Moody?” you asked, incredulously.

“Who’s there?” Alastor demanded gruffly, finally coming close enough to get a good look at the two of you, his magical eye swiveling wildly around.

"Lupin invited us!" Byron whimpered, holding the sides of your arms like you were a shield.

"Could you please- STOP!" you ripped yourself free from Byron, pivoting to look at him, astounded. "Really Byron!" your severe stare was almost broken by the wide eyed look on Byron's face. You could feel yourself resisting a smile- why was he so difficult to stay angry with?

Moody watched the two of you, unimpressed. “Are you done?” he asked impatiently.

“Yes.” you stammered, glancing back at Byron warningly.

“So-” Moody growled, “Lupin thinks you're fit for the Order, eh?” with an abrupt pivot, Moody began to walk down the corridor from whence he came. You and Byron exchanged wide eyed glances before following him.

“”Don’t tell me-” Moody continued fussily as he stomped along, “Not another pair of optimistic try-hards that can hardly conjure a Disarming spell!” “We work for St. Mungos, actually-” Byron called over you to Moody’s back.

“Oh well that’s very nice isn’t it.” Moody glanced appraisingly back over his shoulder. “So you’re both adept in healing?”

“Well-” Byron faltered, you could feel him start trying to hide behind you again, even as the three of you continued to walk.The corridor had opened up into a dim sitting room, it looked as if it was half way through being renovated. Parts of the walls had the dustiest black filigree wallpaper you’d ever seen, but the rest of it had been stripped away to reveal light brickwork. The contrast between the dark, faded wallpaper and the masonry was difficult for your eyes to parse, as if you were in two houses at the same time. There was also a portrait sized hole in the wall above a fireplace.

“Well what?” Moody asked as he stopped walking. Byron bumped into you from behind as you quickly halted in suit. You glanced around the room to see Tonks sitting on top of what was once an opulent dining table, cheerfully speaking to another Order member who’s robes were covered in paint.

“They’re both Specularri, Alastor.” Tonks interrupted, leaning over the side of the table. Glancing over to exchange a smile with Tonks, your heart skipped a beat. The window behind them eclipsed Tonks’ silhouette in a cloudy haze and for the briefest of moments they looked just like Padfoot.

The scratch on your eye was suddenly much more noticeable. You shook your head, physically willing the image to scatter from your thoughts as you smiled at them in greeting.

“SPECULARRI?” Moody growled, glaring at you and Byron with his natural eye, while the magical one swiveled to the back of his head, supposedly to glare at Tonks. “So they aren’t even healers? How desperate are we to allow the likes of no good, snake oil toting, charlatans like this?”

“Okay-” you cleared your throat, glaring daggers at Byron. “At least this is going about as well as I thought it would.”

As Byron looked over to Tonks for aid, you heard the entrance quietly slide close again and Remus’ voice called from the corridor.

“It’s alright!” Remus hushed, he seemed unable to keep a smirk off his face as he approached the group, looking at Moody. “I’ve been vetting them for a while. Byron worked in Knockturn Alley in the 60’s, and still has connections that could prove very useful to us.”

“And what about this one?” Moody barked, gesturing to you with a sneer.

“I’ve worked with the Auror office several times. That’s how I recognized you.” you spoke over Remus with a steely tone.

“Pah-” Moody turned both eyes to you. “And what good has that ever done us?”

You glanced toward Remus, shrugging. “I mean- that’s true.”

You saw Byron roll his eyes in response.

“It may not be the most useful skill for solving active crimes, Alastor.” Remus started, with the same disposition as if he was calming a spooked horse. “But it could prove very useful for the order. Not only because we can reach out to those who’ve been killed, but because these two are stationed at St. Mungos daily- a place that has to stay open. They have access to information we could not easily acquire otherwise.”

“Bringing them to the Order’s headquarters before you even sought approval from the rest of us-” Moody growled. “I knew!” Tonks retorted, raising up their hands. “What am I? Chopped liver?”

“You may have ended up as much, bringing these two here- we still don’t know if this house is compromised!” Moody snapped back.

“Alastor-” Remus interjected, “If it is compromised then these two haven’t learned anything valuable. They are here now.”

Moody waved Remus away from you and Byron. You watched as he glanced up to the hole in the wall and smiled brightly at it, walking over to stand beside the painter and Tonks.

Your attention snapped back to Moody as he raised his wand to your chest. “Well then, are you prepared to be initiated into the Order of the Phoenix?”

Your body lurched to take a step back, but you forced yourself not to. Meeting Moody’s eyes, you hoped you were coming off as far more sure of yourself than you felt. Was this it? You were already going to be a member of the Order? How many people were a part of it? What resources did they have?

“Do you understand,” Moody continued, “that by pledging yourself to the Order, you are misaligning yourself with not only Voldemort and his supporters, but also with the Ministry itself?” You couldn’t tell if Moody was just being paranoid about the Ministry, or if he knew something that hadn’t yet been made public. It made your blood go cold to consider.

“Yes.” you replied, even as fear rose in you. It was as if you didn’t know yourself anymore, you’d never before committed yourself to something without being certain.

“Really?” Moody challenged, “You’re prepared to trust the Order above the Ministry of Magic? They could take away your license, Death Eaters could target you if they discovered your loyalties, they could find out where you live, who your clients are, everything.” “I’m not saying I’m not afraid,” you retorted, glancing over at Tonks, “but I know that this is right.”

“Very well.” Moody said, “Raise your wand.”

You pulled your wand from your robes, holding it up for Moody to see. Both of his eyes focused on your wand as he briskly tapped his against yours. A loud crack sounded and you pulled back with a start, fearing that your wand had snapped. Inspecting it, you saw that it had not broken or even split- but there was now a date carved into the wood near the base for next week.

“That’s the time of the next Order meeting.” Moody explained, tapping Byron’s wand with the same spell.

“Brilliant.” Byron grinned, looking at his wand excitedly.

“Though it’s unlikely it will be here.” Moody said, giving a pointed look at Remus. “As I said , this location is still compromised .’

You jumped as you realized where you must be. The screaming voice had said the noble house of Black. You looked over to Byron with wide eyes as intrigue gripped you. Byron frowned at you, unable to understand your sudden excitement.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be th-” Byron had began to assure Moody, before you blurted out,

“This house was the Black family’s?”

Everyone besides you and Byron exchanged heavy glances- you were surprised to see how sad they’d all suddenly become.

“It is.” Remus answered, sighing. “Since Sirius died, we believe that it now belongs, legally, to Harry Potter.”

“What?” Byron asked, incredulous. “Why?”

“James and Lily Potter had made Sirius Black Harry’s godfather.” Tonks said, their voice strained with an emotion you couldn’t place. Byron shook his head in shock.

“But there is still a chance this home is now the property of Ms. Lestrange.” Moody spat, getting agitated all over again. “So it's very likely, until we can prove otherwise, that we will not be using this as our headquarters.”

Your mind reeled with so many questions. How did they discover all of this? Had they only been using it since Sirius’ death a month ago? Is this why Tonks had asked you to confirm that Black was dead when you first met a couple of weeks ago? You supposed it could be possible, but it didn’t feel realistic.

“Is Harry- does Harry-” Byron started hesitantly.

“No, Harry is not part of the Order.” Remus said, with an exhausted air of finality.

“Yet.” Tonks said with a smirk. Remus shook his head.

You caught yourself smiling at the dynamic of this group, they all seemed so close.

“I suppose this was better-” Moody said begrudgingly to Remus, “than having potentially untrustworthy newcomers show up at a more secure location.”

Tonks gave a dismissive shrug at this, pushing off of the table to walk over to you and Byron. “Glad you decided to join.” they said, grinning at you.

You couldn’t help but stare at them for a moment before replying. Tonks looked subtly different from before- the grief they’d experienced was still evident in the dark circles of their eyes and in the languid quality of their movements. But when you’d met them Tonks had seemed mousier, now they looked somehow paler and more angular, their hair seemed darker and messier. You felt ridiculous to think it, but it was as if the face you knew Tonks to have had been combined with the likeness of Sirius Black.

“You alright?” Tonks asked, eyes widening.

“Sorry-” you jumped, “Yes I’m fine, it’s good to see you, Tonks.” you bit your lip, wondering if you could get away with asking any of the hundreds of questions you had. “Is this house really unsafe, or do you think there is a chance it’ll remain the headquarters for the Order?”

“We’ll know soon enough.” Tonks replied, raising an eyebrow at your question. “...Why?” You bit your lip again, which caused Tonks to laugh. “Go on, tell me.” they implored, intrigued.

“You were asking about Sirius, or- I mean you’re investigating his death?” you asked, watching their expression closely for anything you could use to understand how they felt about it more. To your disappointment, Tonks managed to remain stoic.

“Why?” their eyes squinted at you, as if they were trying to read your expressions too. You felt your face get warm.

“I’m trying to help someone who may have been associated with the Blacks.” you replied, trying to keep your disposition as neutral as Tonks managed.

“A client?” they asked.

“Not exactly… it’s very difficult to explain.” you sighed, unable to imagine where to start with someone not already familiar with your work. “They do not remember much, but they seem to have an association with Dorea Black and, on top of that-” you frowned, considering your words carefully. “I… after careful consideration, am inclined to think this person may be a Black themselves.”

“May be, or was?” Tonks’ brow knitted together, perplexed. “There are few surviving members of the Black family. There’s my dear Aunts Bellatrix and Narcissa, my mother, and myself.”

“You’re related to-” you gasped, stopping yourself from finishing the sentence, to Padfoot. You felt your skin prickle eerily- how could everything connect so neatly? Tonks watched your emotions overcome you, concern filling their eyes.

“You don’t look well.” Tonks said softly, stepping closer. “Come sit.”

Tonks’ hand slipped over your wrist, gently tugging you into a sitting room that had not yet been stripped of its original design. There was a dusty velvet fainting sofa among ancient looking relics and a tapestry of a tree that covered an entire wall.

“Thank you.” you sighed, sitting down and ran your hands down your face. “I apologize, I’m just tired.” you rubbed your eye again.

“No problem.” Tonks said, walking to the other side of the couch to sit beside you. Their boot caught on a lifted floorboard, and they tripped into the couch, nearly falling onto you before catching themself. “Whoops!” they laughed, righting themselves. “Last thing I should do is tackle the sickly.”

“I’m not sickly-” you hastily corrected, reaching out to steady them by putting your hand on their shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“Yea-” Tonks blushed, leaning back into the sofa. “Wow, what a disgusting couch. So dusty.”

Despite the day you had, you chuckled at this. “Yea-” you agreed with a sigh.

Pulling your hands away from your face, you looked over to the tapestry. You could feel Tonks watching you, but it wasn’t intrusive. Considering this was only your second time seeing Tonks, you felt very at ease with them. You were grateful that they were so calm and kind, even while it was obvious they were grieving someone. It felt impossible that Tonks would be mourning Sirius Black, but if they were related, and Remus was so clearly also in mourning, how could it be anyone else?

As you let yourself lean back into the couch, you read the banner embroidered at the top of the tapestry The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Even sitting on the other side of this dimly lit room, the intricacy was impressive and overwhelming. You wondered how it must have felt to be born into a family like this, the privilege and the pressure that would come with it.

“Are you on there?” you asked. Tonks gave a satisfied smile.

“Nope. See that burn mark beneath Cygnus and Druella Rosier? Between Bellatrix and Narcissa?”

“Yea?” you squinted.

“That’s mum.”

“Oh… wow.” Despite how weak you felt, you pushed yourself off of the couch to take a closer look. Your fingertips ghosted over the branch that connected Cygnus to his sister Walburga, and then down to Regulus Black and another scorch mark. “So this was Sirius…?” you breathed.

“Yes.” Tonks replied, their face twisted subtly with another emotion you could not read.

“I bet she wished she could have undone that.” you thought aloud, tracing over the burn that had once held Sirius’ likeness and name. When Tonks didn’t respond you glanced back at them, jumping a little as you did. Tonk’s appearance had become mousy again, their hair and eyes had faded from a rich black back to a taupe, their skin tone duller, sallower.

Catching your alarmed expression, Tonks looked down at themselves, their hair, their hands. “Oh-” they said, under their breath.

Eyes widening, you reached for your wand. Every muscle in your body tensed as panic overtook your mind- what was this? Polyjuice potion? Was this a Death Eater?

Tonks saw the alarm in your eyes and held their hands up reassuringly. “It’s okay, you’re alright- I’m a metamorphmagus. My looks can change at will- sometimes when I’m not paying attention my appearance slips into something else!”

You kept your wand pointed at Tonk’s chest as their words slowly sunk in. How were you going to cope with this new, more dangerous world of any disguised wix could lead you into a room alone and unsuspecting?

“Prove it.” you ordered, lowering your wand slightly.

At your request, the mousy wix before you turned seamlessly into Remus Lupin, then yourself, and then Byron but with the wrong nose.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed, lowering your wand at once. “Thank you for being so understanding.”

Tonks faded back into their mousier self, looking into your face with concern. “Come sit down,” they suggested softly, “you look like you’re going to faint.”

You had expected Diagon Alley to be empty, but as you passed through on your way to Knockturn Alley, a crowd of people obscured your view of the center square. You couldn’t stop as you quickly made your way to The Coffin House- it felt cheeky enough to be in Knockturn Alley, let alone joining in on a random crowd. Pushing your way through the door, you saw Asterius right where you had left him, behind the counter.

“Welcome back-“ Asterius greeted hoarsely. “You look well.”

“Hah.” you retorted. Even now, two days after you’d last used the candles, you still felt sick, your eye still felt scratched. “You would know.”

“Yes,” Asterius coughed through a chuckle. “I do. How can I help you today?”

You scanned the shelves of product while Asterius watched you.

“Those candles burn very quickly.” you mused, “If I had managed to use them as often as you’d suggested, I would have been back here quite soon.”

“Oh, are they a bit strong for you?” Asterius tilted his head, his mouth twitching into a smile. “Not everyone is cut out for such involved scrying, perhaps you’re not up for it?”

“If I wasn’t up for it, I wouldn’t be here.” you corrected, squaring your posture. “So how many candles would I really need to scry at least eight times between this weekend and the next new moon?”

Asterius gave a nod of approval that you had found the sincere instructions from the abstract advice he’d given you the first time you’d met. Then, looking down at his hands, he considered your question. “It took me five years to scry eight times in one moon.”

Your heart thudded in your chest. “I don’t have five years.” you blurted out. You felt your blood cool inside your veins as you watched Asterius’ eyebrow arch. He didn’t look sympathetic, if anything he looked entertained.

“Why not?” Asterius probed with a fevered glint in his eyes.

You opened your mouth to answer, but nothing came to you. You had to remind yourself why you needed to scry at least eight times before the next new moon, because in your haste and your obsession, you had begun to oversimplify. To save Padfoot, you needed to do as Asterius had said on your first meeting, ‘To breach the boundary you came to.’

Was it safe to assume that Asterius and you scryed into the same Halls? You looked into Asterius’ glassy eyes, feeling adrenaline wash over you. Though you held a strange fondness for him, Asterius didn’t seem well aligned, and didn’t seem trustworthy. Nevertheless, the knowledge he held about this practice was vital for your success- did you really have another option?

“Is it that presence you mentioned before?”

“Yes.” you answered, the way Asterius looked at you made you feel vulnerable. His smile had turned from vapid amusement to something more sincere, more sincere and more dangerous.

“So you’ve been able to find them again?” he asked.

“They are there unless they do not want to be seen.” you replied slowly, careful with your words. Again, Asterius’ reaction took a dramatic emotional turn, the smile fell from his uneven mouth as he looked surprised, his brow heavy and creased. Had you offended him, somehow?

You remembered then what Byron had told you, Asterius had been connected to Regulus Black, a man who had disappeared after becoming a Death Eater.

“Are you…” you started softly, “Are you looking for someone, too?”

“I am a follower of Ms. Black’s teachings.” Asterius replied with a snarl. Withdrawing a bone white wand from his robes, Asterius summoned ten candles between the two of you. “That will be 14 galleons.”

“You suggested two last time.” you argued, frowning back. “Doesn’t ten seem like overkill?”

“If you’re going to try to fit 5 years of practice into one month, you may need to overcompensate and scry more than eight times.”

“Fine.” you sighed, placing the galleons on the counter. Asterius took his time scraping each coin into his hand as you picked up the candles and pocketed them in your cloak. If this was how sick you felt scrying twice in two weeks, you couldn’t imagine trying to survive ten sessions in one month. Asterius seemed to recognize the concern on your face as he finished accepting your money.

“I will keep you in mind in those Halls.” Asterius said under his breath, lost in your gaze. “And you will learn as I learned-”

“You had a teacher.” you retorted, annoyed. “You said Dorea Black taught this to you.”

Asterius shook his head, smiling slowly. “We all come to those Halls in our own way. There is no guide that will bring you there. It is always by your own course.”

“Then what did Dorea do?”

“She discovered it, and me.” “What do you mean?” you urged.

Asterius leaned over the counter conspiratorially, “She found it.” he whispered, his eyes flickering between himself and you. “You know, for people like…us?”

“...Seers?”

“Bloody hell.” Asterius sighed, rolling his eyes. “No. Haven’t you felt the sentiments? I wished for you before you were known to me. Your face was in my mind before I saw you with my eyes? ”

“No.” you replied, cautiously. Asterius looked suddenly frantic as he continued,

“ Do not let the gifts of muddied blood fool you, as they are filled with anxious fear. I will give you what you should love. I’ll be bound by my words according to your rites: then, I’ll make ready for you to travel to my kingdom.”

Asterius began to cough violently, his hands coming to cover the lower half of his face as he doubled over. You jumped, startled, as you watched Asterius choke for air. Rushing around the counter, you placed your hand gently against his back.

“Breathe.” you cooed, conjuring a glass of water with your wand in your other hand.

With a final gasp, Asterius stood back up, pulling his hands away from his mouth. “Thank you-” he gasped, accepting the glass with a shaking hand. You noticed that between his fingers, it looked as if there were flower petals sticking to his palm.

You didn’t feel well enough to apparate, and since the walk back home was a short trip through Diagon Alley anyway, it seemed harmless enough. As you passed the center square, you couldn’t help but glance over to where the crowd had congregated on your way in. The group was nowhere to be seen. Stopping, you looked past where they had been to see Ollivander’s shop door wide open, the inside dark, as Ministry officials paced carefully through it, wands raised high.

Your legs ached by the time you stepped into your home. It didn’t feel right to stroll leisurely through Diagon Alley after seeing Ollivander’s like that. You’d have to ask Byron about it tomorrow. Taking off your cloak, you tossed it onto your kitchen table before making your way to your bedroom. You were exhausted, you would deal with the candles tomorrow.

Falling into your bed was, bar none, the most luxurious feeling. You felt yourself drifting off before you had even finished waving your wand at the windows so the curtains would draw closed. Sleep overtook you swiftly and heavily. You sighed into the dark arrest, relieved that you had made it home, that you were safe.

Occasionally, the odd sound pulled you away from sleep. A creek in your neighbor’s floor, the echo of a Hall, or water going through pipes. You sighed, finally finding sleep as you dreamed of a veil, softly billowing in a windless room. All was dark around you, so dim that it was difficult to make out your hand in front of you. You felt the scratch against your eye flair, as a crowned, figure adorned in gilded armor appeared from the Veil and spoke low,

"And for you, who would reach this boundary, set foot on my threshold, to see the sun in the middle of the night, blazing with bright light, to approach me from below, from above, and worship me from nearby." The sound shook the Hall, the Veil quivered with its force. "You are saved from Perceforest this night."

-X-

#second sight #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black fan fiction #slow burn #harry potter fan fic #sirius black lives #non binary reader

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latenightthoughtsstuff · 2 years

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Send me asks with prompts if you’d like. I’ve been meaning to get back into writing but I just don’t know what. If you’ve got a scene causing you brainrot send it to me and I’ll try and write something for it.

I write for marauders era and a little golden era.

#harry potter #the marauders #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #regulus black #marauders fandom #marauders fanfiction #golden era #golden era fan fiction #james & peter & remus & sirius #peter pettigrew #young james potter #james potter fanfiction #Sirius black fan fiction #remus lupin fanfiction

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everybodyhatesari · 5 months

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Sometimes I get happy bc of a fanfic then remember I’m reading a fanfic

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wolvesandshine · 3 months

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“For the love of god, we need to set them up together I can’t handle their pining.”

Remus sighed and dutifully nodded along to Sirius’s plans to get his best friends and little brother dating.

“You know you could always just tell them you approve of their relationship. They might just not be getting together because they’re worried about upsetting you.”

Sirius snorts loudly. “What’s upsetting me is watching them eyefuck each other in front of everyone. At least if they’re together I won’t need to see that.” Sirius visibly shudders at that as he adds. “I doubt either of them are even aware of their feelings to each other anyways. James would have definitely asked him out by now if he did.”

“You know sneaking around would be easier if we just told Sirius about us.”

“You just want to torment Sirius.”

Regulus laughs brightly and even now, after a month of dating, James feels a course of satisfaction run through him at the sound.

“Course I do. And I know for a fact that he bet that you would ask me out first.”

James groaned loudly after that. “I was going to! You just beat me to it.”

Regulus snorts loudly. “In what universe is stalking after me using a map considered trying to ask someone out on a date?”

“It’s better than just kissing me after beating my arse in quidditch!”

“Remind me again whose plan actually led us to start dating?”

James shook his head incredulously. “I just needed more time!”

Regulus smirks. “What? And miss all the time we could have spent together instead?”

James laughed softly before leaning in to kiss Regulus, enjoying the blush on the other boys cheeks.

After all he only had 30 more minutes before Sirius got suspicious.

#thoughts??#first jegulus fanfic? y’all #mini one maybe #jegulus #james potter #regulus black #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #sunseeker #starchaser #marauders era #marauders #marauders era funny #marauders era textpost #jegulus fan fiction #jegulus one shot #marauders funny #fanfiction

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loving-and-dreaming · 4 months

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Hello wonderful people.

I kinda wanna start writing again so if you have ideas I’d love to try them out? I can pretty much write for anyone, even if I have never seen it I can do the research. I know I’m not the greatest writer but I really wanna try to get back in it 💕

Ps the only thing I won’t write is smut because while I love reading it I am not ready to start writing it.

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maddybthorne · 17 hours

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I love the trope where someone who cares about the Main Character or is just now getting to know them learns about all the dumb/impossible stuff they do and just kinda breaks. Like they’re not able to comprehend how this dumbass is alive. And then the MC is just trying to brush it off because they don’t understand what’s wrong

MC: “I may have done *insert impossible/extemy dangerous thing* but it’s fine everything worked out and it wasn’t that hard really”

Character B: “YOU WHAT?!? HOW?!?” *distressed and confused noises*

#fandom #harry potter #tom riddle #tomarry #draco malfoy #drarry #percy jackson #this is so Posideon is all those reading the books fics #and also Sirius and Remus about Harry #and Arthur finding about Merlin and all he has done #bbc merlin #merlin #fan fiction #arthur pendragon #sirius black #remus lupin #I think I tagged too much #oh well

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resident-gay-bitch · 29 days

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Fight & Make Up

marylene minor angst with a happy ending - 7.7 k words

“I broke up with Sirius.” Mary said, pressing the heavy wooden door to the dorm room closed behind her.

From her bed, Marlene looked up in alarm; eyes wide, body still, and the quidditch magazine she was reading had fallen through her hands, down onto her mattress. Across the room, Lily gasped. She was braiding her hair at the vanity when Mary had walked in, and turned around with an expression so similar to Marlenes, however, her eyes had more sorrow than Marlenes had.

Mary shrugged, moving into the room to sit on the end of Lily’s bed, closest to the both of them. She grabbed the fluffy stuffed bunny that had been discarded in the early morning rush and dropped onto the floor, popping it in her lap to play with its floppy ears, “It’s over… He was sad, but I think he fancies someone else anyway. Or at least he’s starting too. As strange as it sounds, I hope Sirius gets his way, they’d be much better together than he and I.”

“Why?” Lily asked, quickly tying off the end of her braid to give Mary her undivided attention, “What? Why…. are you okay, Mary?”

“I’m okay.” Mary gave a half hearted smile, “Well, I’m sad. It was a good relationship, and now it’s over, of course I’m going to be sad. I miss him already, he was sweet… got me flowers and shared his pudding with me… not to mention he’s bloody gorgeous and a brilliant snog.”

Lily snickered, her laugh so sudden that it caused her to make a snorting sound, much like a pig, when she scrunched up her nose. Mary finds it delightful when Lily laughs like that, it’s absolutely hilarious. Across the room, on her bed, Marlene did not make a sound.

“Never mind that though, those things can’t last forever.” Mary shrugged again, sitting the bunny down on the blanket beside her, looking up at the girls again. “I’m glad it’s over, actually. Better now than later, less drama that way. Plus, it’s nice to know that he cried a bit.”

“Sirius cried?” Lily asked, her mouth a little slack, “Hmm, maybe he’s not as much of a gorgeous prick as I thought.”

“No.” Mary laughed, “Believe it or not, the boy's got a heart. He is lovely, Lily. He’s just not the one, you know?”

“God, none of them ever are.” Lily groaned, tipping her head back over the chair, “All the boys here suck. All of them, every single one of them, all stupid gits… annoyingly attractive gits, but gits.”

Mary snickered, lifting a ringed hand to cover her mouth, “Too right, Lily… you wouldn’t happen to be talking about anyone in specifics, would you? Perhaps… one of Sirius’ stupid friend-”

“Absolutely not.” Lily said, turning bright red, “No, I’m not talking about James-”

“I never said his name, Lily.” Mary teased.

Lily went silent, her cheeks redder than her hair as she stared up at the roof. All that could be heard in the room for a short while were Mary’s quiet giggles that she tried to stifle behind her hand.

“Shit.” Lily said eventually, “Don’t you dare say anything.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.” Mary grinned, holding her hands up on either side of her head.

Lily flipped her off before smiling and turning her head to face Mary again, eyes wide with anticipation, “Okay, so, Sirius isn’t the one, sure… but there's got to be another reason, right? What pushed you to end it now, rather than when you just stopped having feelings for eachother?”

“Well…” Mary smiled softly, her cheeks going red, “You know, Sirius is falling for someone else, so it’s better to let him explore that then stress himself out with me. And, uhm. There's… someone else.”

“Someone else?” Marlene asked, the first sound she had made since Mary entered the room. Though her face still remained the same, eyes wide with shock and worry.

Mary cleared her throat, “Yes. Though, I will not be elaborating.”

“Boo!” Lily poked her tongue out, “Come on, you’ve got to tell us.”

“Absolutely not.” Mary shook her head, stern and sure, “It’s pointless, so… I’d rather just let it run its course, okay?”

Lily huffed and turned back to the vanity, fixing up her braid where it got messy at the end, “You’re boring.” She shrugged, “I am sorry, though, Mary. I’m here for you.”

“Yeah, thanks, Lils.” Mary smiled softly at her reflection. She turned her attention then to Marlene, the two of them staring at each other for a moment, “Well, are you going to say anything? Gloat about how right you were? Dance about how happy you are that it’s over?”

Across the room, on her bed, Marlene paled.

The first moment Mary confessed she had a small crush on Sirius Black in the beginning of fifth year, Marlene had an issue with it. Mary remembered the way her best friend pulled a strange face, scrunching up her nose to ask “Black? Ugh, why? He’s so vain.”

She protested every time Mary thought about making a move, pulled strange faces every time she called him cute, and countered every dreamy comment Mary made about him with her own distasteful one. And when something finally happened between them, just three and a half months ago, Marlene got worse.

It was the first Hogsmeade weekend for sixth year, and after a boring potions lesson when Mary and the girls were packing up their things, the boys were all shoving a pink cheeked Sirius forward with words of reassurance and laughter. He asked her out to The Three Broomsticks, pulled a small bunch of hand picked flowers from his pocket, and kissed her on the cheek, and Mary naturally said yes.

The entire rest of the day she had to put up with Marlene's yapping, unkind words about the boy she had just started to date. She even went so far as to interrupt their date, as they were giggling together in a quiet booth in the pub, Sirius’ arm around her shoulders as he nosed at her cheek.. Right as they were about to kiss, Marlene came barreling over and sat herself across from them, striking up an awfully boring conversation about broom polish and a new style of quaffle that just dropped, Lily chasing after in protest.

It drove a wedge between them quite quickly, the pair always at each other's throats.

If any of Mary’s friends had ever suggested she stopped having an interest in a boy, she’s always listened. Isn’t it the first rule of girl code that you trust your fellow females' judgement? Besides, friends always come first.

However, Marlene never really gave a good, valid reason as to why Sirius was such a bad match for Mary. It was always yaps about his overconfidence, or vanity, or all the stupid pranks he’d pull, or anything else about boys in general she could come up with. Which would have been understandable, if she hadn’t been so cool with Lily’s miniature crush on Remus a few years back, or so encouraging towards her now clear feelings for James; who, in Mary’s opinion, is much more arrogant and overconfident than Sirius.

Besides, Sirius wasn’t even that vain. Yes, he knew he had good looks, and yes, sometimes he used them to his advantage (see; flirting to get his way so the Marauders could efficiently prank), but he wasn’t awful about it. The first time Mary ever called him gorgeous he turned bright red and couldn’t fully form a sentence for three whole minutes he was so flustered.

Not only that, but Marlene and Sirius were actually quite good mates before Mary started dating him. They were practically best friends, getting up to mischief together and pulling James’ leg during quidditch practices. So why Marlene had such a problem with it remains an utter mystery to Mary.

That’s why she didn’t listen.

And Lily thought they were wonderful together, as did all of the Gryffindor (and Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw, and even some Slytherin) girls who didn’t have a weird infatuation with Sirius and wanted him to themselves. So it really was just Marlene and her own issues that she was too stuck up about to disclose to Mary.

For a while there, Mary thought she was jealous. Marlene had never really expressed an interest in boys. When they were younger, she found it appalling when Lily and Mary talked about the cute boys in their classes. As they grew a little, she became more accustomed to it, and joined in on their discussions, but never expressed her own attraction to them. So the thought of Marlene having a crush on Sirius was a far away thought, that only occurred to Mary one afternoon about three weeks ago.

The girls had gotten all rugged up in their coats and scarves and mittens to go for a walk around the grounds when they bumped into Sirius outside by the old willow tree. He’d been setting up something for a prank, but finished up by the time the girls had reached him, so naturally, Mary invited him along.

It was only when Mary took her hand out of his to wrap half of her scarf around his neck, and slip one of her mittens onto one of his cold hands, that Marlene had had enough.

She stopped in the middle of their path, staring at the couple for a moment before expressing that “this is fucking stupid” before storming off in a huff of teary eyed anger.

She’d never said anything in front of Sirius before, and she’d certainly never thrown a tantrum like that. It took Lily shyly suggesting Marlene may have gotten jealous before chasing after her, did Mary actually consider it.

She felt awful. Going off and dating the boy her best friend liked, holding his hands and snogging him right in front of her. Oh, she felt so guilty about it, so terribly awful. She talked with Sirius quickly, which he felt very embarrassed about, before running off to find Marlene herself.

She didn’t find her in the end. However Sirius did. And when Sirius and Mary bumped into each other again just two hours later, he told her they had a little chat about it. He told Mary that Marlene very explicitly, and very angrily, expressed she had absolutely no interest in Sirius whatsoever, never has and never would. And she most certainly wasn’t jealous of Mary.

When Mary tried to talk to her about it that evening, Marlene didn’t allow it. She shut down and closed her bed curtains and didn’t talk to Mary for three days.

So Mary remains miffed.

She very wisely did not mention that the real reason she broke up with Sirius was because of Marlene.

One; she knew it would just end in an argument if she brought that up.

Two; Marlene would probably end up on a high horse about it and give Mary another headache.

Three; That someone else that snuck their way into the equation… Well, that’s Marlene.

Through their kind of falling out, Mary realised she missed Marlene more than she thought she would. It felt horrible to have her best friend ignore her, chastising her relationship and throwing silent tantrums whenever Sirius took away her attention.

She was plagued with thoughts of Marlene on the constant, and started to wonder if Sirius really was that right for her after all. She came to one simple conclusion whilst laying in his lap one afternoon after Marlene had strolled into the common room, seen them, rolled her eyes and abruptly left; Sirius is lovely, but he’s never going to be Marlene.

Honestly, the reason why Mary had clung onto Sirius for so long was out of sheer spite.

The way her and Marlene have always worked was a neat push and pull.

Marlene isn’t really like many other girls Mary knows. She’s messy, and loud, confident, snarky. She’s a little rough around the edges, has never cared about her looks for even one day in her life, all she wants to do is fly, and race, and play, and fight and help those in need of it. She’s never given a shit about anyone's opinions, and in first year, when some Slytherin girls told her she was ugly and dressed like a boy, she stepped on their toes and spat in their faces and threw out the only dress she ever owned.

To Mary, who grew up in a house where eyebrow plucking and lipstick and cute dresses were shoved on her from a young age, and a village where a woman's beauty was respected and expected, and a world where the only way she’d ever dream of getting her smart foot in the door was if she dressed the pretty part, Marlene was everything.

With Marlene, she could let go. She could wear baggy trousers around the dorm and look over to see her friend in similar ones, she could go an entire day without makeup knowing Marlene wouldn’t look at her any different for it. With Marlene she could run, and she could laugh, and she could scream, and she could play rough.

They’d argue and throw pillows at each other and chase one another around the dorm until they’d collapse in a heap and laugh together. They’d wrestle over who got to read their new magazine first and end up curled up and reading it together.

They’d argue about silly things, both so stupidly stubborn so it would escalate quickly. Mary would call her a slag, and Marlene would call Mary slut, and by the end of the evening they’d be brushing each other's hair and complaining about homework together as if nothing had even happened.

Lately, it’s been all fight and no makeup. And Mary misses it.

She realised that she only ever started so many arguments so they could make up. Because sure, when they’re kind to each other it’s nice enough. But when they fight, chase and wrestle, Mary can get close to her. She can get up in Marlene's space and touch her, feel her pale skin against the palm of her hand, the soft prick of her leg hair against fingertips, the hot breath that followed her brilliant laughter across her own cheeks.

When they make up, Mary gets to sit there and brush Marlene's hair whilst she narrates a celebrity magazine with extra commentary; Mary can run her fingers through the messy blonde locks and feel Marelene melt under the touch, and she can listen to the comfortable song of her voice and laugh at her stupid opinions about whatever scandal occurs that week and let it calm her.

When they Make up, Mary gets to lay her head on Marlene's shoulder whilst they read together, listening to the steady in and out of her breath, and if the position’s right, her heartbeat. She can let Marlene twist her fingers around the ends of Mary’s springy curls, or even scratch them up against her scalp; she can be wrapped under Marlene's arm and lay there for as long as she pleases. Too many times they’ve fallen asleep like that.

When they make up, Mary gets to lay in bed with her, looking into her crystal blue eyes in the dark, admiring the shimmer reflected in them from the light at the end of her wand. She gets to listen to Marlene's soft whispers of “Sorry, you’re my best friend, I don’t really think you’re a slut. I know the rumours aren’t true and wouldn’t even care if they were. Really, Mary, I love you, I’m such a git”, and feel her warm breath on her face, and inhale the comforting scent of Marlene's coconut shampoo and the remnants of her woody perfume. She gets to hold Marlene's hand, calloused and rough from years of quidditch and getting up to no good, and giggle with her, and lock their ankles together beneath the covers.

And it took Mary losing that, for what felt like for good, to realise how much she needed it.

She needs Marlene.

Though all of their nasty, through all of their dirty, through all of their horrible, Mary needs her. She needs her like she needs air.

She’s in love with her best friend, and she’s very nearly lost her. Over a boy.

Marlene didn’t say anything, she just slowly shut her bed curtains and didn’t come out all evening.

It was stupid of Mary to expect a fight anyway, they hadn’t fought in weeks. They just glare at each other, almost bursting into tears without any words shared between them, and walk away.

She’s so stupid for thinking they could just fight and makeup now. So fucking stupid.

☆ ★ ☆

“That’s it.” Mary said, shoving her book bag down on the end of her bed, storming into the centre of the room, Marlene trailing behind with a scoff.

“Oh, what ails Mary Almighty now?” Marlene rolled her eyes, taking off her own satchal and dropping it on the ground, “What gorgeous, dick having man has fucked and rejected you this week?”

“Marlene.” Lily scolded, sitting down on the end of her bed. She rubs her temples, already gaining a headache from their arguing. The first real argument they’ve had in months.

“What?” Marlene scoffed, “Am I wrong? Have you not sucked your way to heartbreak-”

“Marlene!” Lily said again, her eyes stern as she glared at her friend, “Enough with the slutshaming.”

“Tell Mary to stop being such a whore-”

“I’m sorry, do I make you jealous?” Mary asked, cocking her head. Marlene's words sting, but only on the surface. She knows that Marlene knows all those rumours that get around about Mary aren't true. That she’s only really been on a handful of dates at most and only ever slept with Sirius. But still, your best friend, forward slash current biggest enemy, forward slash the girl you’ve accidentally been in love with for years calling you a whore isn’t the tastiest pill to swallow. “I’m sorry men don’t take an interest in you, Marlene. Perhaps if you’d just put on a dress-”

“Oh, stop.” Marlene sassed, “I don’t want to fucking talk about it-”

“Well, I do.” Mary pressed.

“We are not talking about the lack of men interested in me-”

“No, I want to talk about us.”

Marlene went a little white, staring at Mary across the room for a moment. The silence stretched, tension so thick you could slice it with a knife. Mary held her ground, eyes locked on the other girl with ferocious need. She wasn’t losing this. She needed a fight, so they were going to fight.

Soon enough they’d have to make up.

Hopefully.

Marlene scoffed, rolling her eyes as she turned away, losing that little battle. Mary internally celebrates, knowing things are going her way, finally. Perhaps they might really get somewhere, if Marlene is willing to listen.

Marlene loosens the tie around her neck before shrugging off her robes, tossing them messily onto her bed. Mary has an itch to go over and tidy her corner of the room, as she always used to help Marlene to do. But since their silence, Mary hasn’t helped once, and it really shows with the pile of dirty laundry peeking out from under her bed.

Mary doesn’t remove her robes, liking the feel of the thick fabric on her arms. It’s grounding, something else to grab onto instead of digging the sharp of her nails into her palms.

“Go on then.” Marlene says, sticking her hands sharply into the pockets of her trousers, shoulders tight around her neck as she wobbles on her heels and toes. “Talk. Tell me what tragedies have befallen us, McDonald-”

“Don’t call me by my last name, McKinnon.” Mary sneered back at her, folding her arms over her chest, “And you know exactly what I want to talk about-”

“Well, I’m not really interested, so-”

“Well, I don’t really care.” Mary said, glaring at her again with her eyebrows raised. Marlene gave her an icy look in return, her face petulant, like a child. “I’ve had enough of… whatever the fuck is going on, and I wan’t to talk about it. I’m sick of you ignoring me, Marlne-”

“As if you’re so innocent.” Marlene fired back, “The whole time you were with him you ignored everything I said. What happened to trusting your friends, hmm? I told you he was bad news-”

“And he wasn’t.” Mary retorted, “Nothing bad about him, Marlene. You used to act as if the sun shone out of his arse, half the time, before we got together. So what is it, hmm? What pissed you off so much about Sirius and my relationship?”

“Well, you said it yourself. He wasn’t the one. There’s someone else.” She groaned, spitting out the last part in a childish tone, wiggling her head to make fun.

“Obviously he wasn’t the one, Marlene.” Mary huffed, “He was my second boyfriend! I’m sixteen! That doesn’t mean we can’t date at all.”

“Yeah, well, I was trying to save you from heartbreak.” Marlene huffed.

“Well it didn’t work.” Mary said, her voice tight as she looked at the girl she loved. She looks so tired, big bags under her diamond eyes, her hair a mess from running her hands through it all day in stress. “You broke my heart, Marlene. You broke it the moment you turned against me and didn’t give me one good reason why.”

Marlene's expression drops, looking up at Mary with widened eyes. Her mouth gapes slightly, moving just a little, as if she wants to say something, but no words find their way out.

“What? You don’t like that?” Mary shakes her head in disbelief, “You don’t like the fact that the real reason I ended my relationship with Sirius is because I was sick of my best friend icing me out and getting upset over nothing? Is it so horrible to ask you to be happy for me? It feels awful, every day, to look at you and feel disgusted with myself for something I didn’t even do! I just wanted my fucking friend back, and two months have passed, Marlene, and you still fucking hate me!”

“One month.” Marlene muttered under her breath, the words slipping out of her lips as if she was desperate to say them, “It’s been one month… twelve days.”

Mary looked at her for a moment, unbelieving the words that had just left Marlene's mouth. She laughs, stressed, on the brink of tears as she brings her hands to her face and tugs at her hair, “Fucks sake, Marlene. Not the point!”

Marlene doesn’t say anything. She just stares at Mary, her head dipped, big wet eyes tracking Mary as she paces the room.

“What is it?” Mary begs, stopping and waving her hand out at Marlene, “Just tell me. Tell me what I’ve done that’s so bloody awful that you hate me! I don’t care anymore, Marlene. I just want to know! I want to know, I want to fix this… I miss you. Every day, I miss you, so please, for the love of Merlin, just tell me.”

“I don’t want to tell you.” Marlene confesses, and for the first time in months, Mary feels like she’s finally got something.

“Why not?” Mary asks.

“Because I feel awful about it.”

“I feel awful.” Mary tried, “I feel awful for even knowing Sirius, half the time. Why was it so wrong for me to be with him… to- to like him?”

Marlene closes her eyes and breathes. One deep breath in, and out, followed by another, and one more. Mary watches as she regulates herself, clearly fighting off tears as she clenches her fists at her sides, in the way she does, acting so stoic.

“It wasn’t wrong.” She eventually mutters, so quiet Mary barely hears it. But she does, because she listens. She listens so closely she even hears the tiny sob that rips its way from Marlene's throat before she snubs it with a cough.

Mary watches her, tilts her head to the side and takes in her sunken expression, “What’s your problem, then, Marlene? I’ve sorted through all of the options and I’ve come up dry.” She waves her arms out in stress, “I’m clueless. Absolutely fucking clueless. What have I done that is so awful to you?”

“Nothing.” Marlene says, a quick response followed by desperate eyes; aching with a genuinity Mary quickly finds, “You’ve done absolutely nothing. You’re- this isn’t about you. It’s me. I’m- I’ve done this to myself. It’s… I’ve been so scared, okay? Bloody terrified, so I… I shut you out, made everything worse. And it’s awful, isn’t it? It feels so awful. I’ve got this ache in my stomach that won’t go away, rotten with guilt, and I just keep making it worse.” Marlene clutches at her stomach, nimble fingers twisting in the white cotton of her dress shirt.

Mary feels her anger, that violent desperation inside of her, begin to dissipate. The desire to rip Marlene's head off and go fishing around her brain for answers no longer lingers, and instead, it fades to a helpless sympathy. She wants to reach out and stitch the broken pieces of Marlene back together, to wipe her eyes with the gentle pads of her thumbs and kiss her.

“What’s got you feeling so helpless, Marlie?” Mary asks, voice gentle like silk, the familiar nickname falling off of her tongue with ease, as if they've already made up and all is well again.

Marlene sobs again, around a saddened laugh, and a few tears slip past her summer eyes. Mary truly does love Marlene's eyes, gentle and gorgeous. She could stare into them for hours, endlessly just admiring the infinite beauty within. She loves them when they’re happy, and she loves them when they’re scared, and she loves them when they’re gentle, and she loves them when they cry.

She shakes her head no, the too long ends of her fringe slipping into her eyes, but she doesn’t brush them away. Mary wants too. If they weren’t fighting, she would.

“Tell her, Marlene.” Lily whispers from her spot on the bed. Mary’s frightened by the suddenness of her voice, she’d forgotten Lily was even in the room with them, the world narrowed down to her and the girl she loves.

Marlene shakes her head again, giving Lily a desperate look,; one that begs for rescue.

Lily stands up and walks over to her, brushing the ends of Marlene's fringe from her eyes, using her sleeve to dab at the tears on her lightly freckled cheeks, and Mary envies her. Just for a moment, she hates Lily for getting to touch Marlene like that, to care for her, to be gentle with her.

Marlene was never gentle, but with Mary, she learned how to be. It’s not fair that she finds it with Lily now too. Mary wants to keep that all to herself, to hide it away in the dark like a filthy secret. She wants to have the gentle caress of Marlene all to herself, to be the only one to touch her tears, the only one to sooth her anguish.

Jealousy rips through her like a flood, threatening to destroy everything in its path. All this build up, all this silence, and Mary doesn’t know how much longer she can keep it under wraps.

“Don’t be scared, Marlene.” Lily smiles softly, taking Marlene's shaky hand to sooth, “Tell her. Let it off your chest. You’ll feel better. Besides, it may not end so terribly, you’ll get through it. I’m here to help you through it.”

“I’m scared, Lily.” Marlene whispered, “I don’t want to lose her. She’s my best friend.”

“You won’t. I’ll make sure of it.” Lily promises, giving her hand a tight squeeze, “Tell her.” She nods before taking her leave.

It’s just the two of them, alone together in their big empty dorm room.

“Tell me, Marlene.” Mary whispers, too frightened of something bad happening if she spoke much louder. Her heart raced in her chest, beating so fast she could hear her blood pumping in her ears.

Marlene huffed, taking a moment to catch her breath and very pointedly not looking at Mary. It’s infuriating; to still be avoided when they’re standing right across from one another. They’re the only two in the room, trying to make up, and Marlene is still ignoring her.

Mary could kill her!

“Look at me-”

“I don’t want to look at you.” Marlene snapped back.

“Look-”

“No.”

“Marlene-”

“I’ll cry!” Marlene spat out, looking down at the ground, “Bloody hell, I’m pathetic… I’ll cry, Mary. Please don’t look at me, I’m trying to find the words, okay? Give me a moment.”

Mary sighed and nodded her head, making a show of turning around to face the wall, rather than Marlene, no matter how infuriating. Turned away, she already misses the sight of her; in her grass stained trousers, her wrinkled button up that she never tucks in properly, shaggy hair, her looser than usual tie, the boys shoes she wears for comfort, the silver band she always wears around her thumb.

She’s a walking contrast to Mary, who’s always neat and tidy, who tucks her shirt into her skirt with precision, her hair always neatly done, her tie always tight to her collar, Mary-Janes with cute frilly socks or stockings depending on the weather, and the array of dainty gold jewellery she changes most days.

Mary’s obsessed with her.

“You were right…” Marlene mutters, her voice strained. She’s clearly willing herself not to break down into tears, and Mary feels her stomach ache with empathy for the girl. She wants to turn and run and pull Marlene into her arms, to cradle her and stroke her hair and make it all better.

But she knows better. She’s not stupid. That’s not how this is going to work. So she stands there, facing the wall, and listens to Marlene talk.

“I was jealous.” She sniffled, “I was so… so fucking jealous.”

“Marlene-” Mary feels her heart crack, that horrible guilt sinking back in. She’s an awful friend, she knows it now; how she went so long without seeing the vibrant truth right in front of her. So what Marlene hardly expressed her interest in boys, maybe she’s just shy about them? So what Marlene denied being jealous when she was asked, she’s obviously not going to tell her best friend's boyfriend she’s into him.

It’s worse now though, because Mary knows she’s in love with Marlene. She’s so painfully in love with Marlene that the confession stabs her right in the heart and drags until it bleeds.

She’s just fucked everything up, hasn’t she?

“I’m- I’m so sorry.” She choked out, “I didn’t-”

“No.” Marlene presses, sniffling. Mary can hear her shuffling around, no doubt twitching in her spot. She does that when she’s anxious, hops from foot to foot, tries to balance on one leg before she wobbles and puts it down. It’s strange, she’s so strange, and Mary loves her all the more for it. She loves her, but she can never have. “You just… you listen to me, okay?”

“Okay.” Mary muttered, voice meek and broken. She’s trying her absolute best to not let Marlene hear her cry.

“Sirius and I were best mates- he’s… he was the first bloke who ever treated me as an equal, and not just some girl who wanted attention. When we both went up for beater on the quidditch team, he shook my hand and played against me with ruthless precision, and cheered for me when I hit the bludger harder than any of the other blokes there, and called me brilliant right before going to convince the captain to let me on the team.” She took a deep breath in, “He always pulled me into conversations with the team that I often felt left out of, being the only girl. I knew how he thought, I knew his type, and I knew how the entire bloody quidditch team felt about mesmerising Mary Mcdonald. They’d all ask me about you, what the best way to your heart was, how interested I thought you’d be in them, whether you’re interested in hookups or dating. So the moment you told me you liked him, my heart fucking broke, because I knew he thought you were gorgeous. I knew if you expressed any interest in him, he’d fucking pounce. And he did.”

Mary swallowed the lump in her throat, wiping her tears on the sleeve of her shoulder. Behind her, she heard the bed creak under Marlene's weight. She sniffled and breathed, finding her next words.

“I told him not to, you know? I said it would be a bad idea- that it would fuck everything up. But he didn’t listen, the arrogant bastard. No doubt James’ doing, the romantic that he is. You know, I thought he’d come yell at me, after that first date of yours, after you and I fought about it. But you didn’t tell him. You didn’t tell him how much of a cunt I was being to you, and he had absolutely no idea why I stopped talking to him.” Marlene sighed and stood up again, her feet pattering on the hardwood floors, “You broke my heart, Mary… being with him. I’m in love, and it fucking hurts.”

Mary bit down on her lip and ignored the ache in her chest, her heart cut in two by the jagged knife, wielded by Marlene's tongue, “I’m so sorry, Marlie… I- I had no idea-”

“I know you didn’t. You weren’t supposed to ever know, Mary.” Marlene said, shuffling closer, “You’re not supposed to find out. But I just… I’ve never been good at handling my emotions, and you know I get so hot headed. I’m sorry for the way I acted, it’s unforgivable, and childish, and stupid, and I have no excuse. I just- I… it hurts, Mary… have you ever been in love?”

Mary nodded, looking forward at the poster of a muggle heartthrob hanging on the wall that her and Lily hung up together with giggles in their throats. She thought she was in love with him when she was thirteen, but of course it wasn’t love, it was just obsession.

But this… the way she feels about Marlene, that’s beyond obsession. It’s carnal desire, dripping poison. It aches and it stings and it pulls at her until there's nothing left. It’s love, love she feels so deeply, love she didn’t know she needed until it was too late. Much too late. She’ll never get it back.

“Were you in love with him?” Marlene asked, “Sirius?”

“I don’t know.” Mary sobbed, “I don’t know… but I have felt love, Marlene. I know how much it hurts. I know… I know.”

Behind her, Marlene took a deep breath, “You know how much it controls you then? The pain?”

“Yes.” Mary nodded, “It makes you feel fucking crazy.”

Marlene sniffled, “Oh, you were never meant to know, Mary. This ruins everything.”

“It doesn’t.” Mary sobbed, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as she couldn’t contain it anymore. Everything aches, “It doesn’t, I promise. You can… Marlene, if you love him, you should tell-”

Marlene snickered, shuffling closer, pressing her forehead to the back of Mary's head, “I don’t love him, Mary.” She whispered, pressing closer, their bodies so close that Mary can feel the warmth radiating off her. Marlene took a deep inhale, burying her face in Mary’s curls before she let out a broken sob, “It’s not him I love, sweetheart.”

Mary freezes.

Her body goes rigid, tight and stiff, her seemingly endless stream of tears coming to a screeching halt. She feels Marlene let out a heavy breath, the warmth heating the back of her neck. She can sense Marlene struggling, knows her hands are clenching and unclenching at her sides, debating whether or not to reach out and touch.

But Mary is quite simply frozen. Even the two halves of a heart in her chest had stopped still for a moment. It all clicks into place, once a simple answer to this impossible equation; Marlene is in love with Mary, just as Mary’s in love with Marlene.

And all it took to get here were two broken hearts and a five month long fight.

And where is “here” anyway? The hollow dormroom they stand in? In this bubble with Marlene pressed to her back, wondering if she can risk pressing closer? On this bridge between broken hearts they’ve slowly begun to build? Or is it in the stitchings of Mary’s heart as it mends itself back together in her chest? Because Marlene loves her, she’s in love with her, just as Mary is.

“Here”, wherever it is, is the only place Mary ever wants to be.

All this wanting created all this fighting, and now all this fighting means a whole lot of making up.

Mary thinks this makeup is going to be her favourite makeup of all.

“You’re in love with me?” Mary whispered, pure awe dripping from her voice as she reached back to grab Marlene's hands.

Marlene tenses, her hands stiff in place, reluctant to let Mary move her, “Yes?”

“Well, are you certain, or not?” Mary asked, turning her head slightly to look back at the other girl. They locked eyes for a moment, and Mary lifted an eyebrow in mock curiosity, “Because if you’re not completely sure, then you’ve got a really shitty reason to go and fuck everything up.”

“I’m sure.” Marlene muttered, her crystal eyes locked onto Mary’s, “I’m… I love you- fuck, that’s… I never thought I’d say that to you. Romantically. I never thought I'd confess.”

“Why not?” Mary asked, gently rubbing her thumb over the back of Marlene's palm.

“Because…” Marlene furrowed her brow, a sad smile creeping onto her face, “I’m not stupid, Mary. You like boys- and even if you didn’t, even if you somehow managed to be the only other queer in this bloody school, the chance of you loving me? I know it would never happen. I thought I made peace with that, but… Sirius mucked it all up.”

Mary gave her a small smile, “Sirius is a mess like that.”

Marlene nodded.

“You know… you’re not the only queer. They’re everywhere.”

Marlene snickered, “Yeah, sure. Old McGonagall’s a lesbian, is she? Grading papers by day, minge licking by night?”

Mary furrowed her brow, “Marlie… McGonagall is a lesbian.”

“No she’s not.” Marlene said with a smile. Mary watched as it slowly faded, “No she’s not.”

“Why do you think she has that photo frame of her and Madame Pomfrey hugging on her desk- what do you think their five o’clock undisturbed tea times every evening are?”

“What?” Marlene gasped, “She’s not- don’t joke with me, Mary-”

“I’m surprised you don’t know this- it’s common gossip, Marls. Ask anyone.”

“Bloody hell.” Marlene said, swiping a hand through her hair, “Is that why she sat me down and said she sees herself in me- oh Merlin, that conversation makes so much more sense now.”

“Marlene!” Mary laughed, spinning around to face her, “Did McGonagall talk to you about her experience as a lesbian without you… picking up on the fact that she’s a lesbian?”

“Apparently!” Marlene gasped, running her strong hands over her face, “Oh, that’s awful- I’ve got to talk to her. I was so weird.”

“You git.” Mary snickered, “Trust you to miss a massive sign like that.”

“Yeah, I would, wouldn’t I?” Marlene sighed.

“I- uhm… I don’t know how you feel about Sirius at the moment, Marlene, but… if you find yourself being friends again, maybe… you know… keep your eyes open for sign-”

“Sirius?” Marlene gasped, taking a step back, “But you two- he likes girls…. He-”

“You can like both, you know.” Mary said, setting her hands on her hips as she gave Marlene a stern glare, looking down at her, since just a smidgen taller, “You know Bowie? The one Remus is so obsessed with? He likes both, it’s called bisexual.”

“Oh.” Marlene said, furrowing her brow as she looked to the ground.

“Point is… I don’t think Sirius knows that Sirius is bisexual yet, but, uhm… you know, he talked an awful lot about one of his very male friends. And a lot of those conversations consisted of language like handsome, and brilliant, and hot.”

“Oh.” Marlene sighed, “You know, come to think of it, he’s said a lot of similar things about the blokes on the quidditch team. I always assumed he was trying to talk them up for me, and doing a very bad job at it…”

“Poor thing.” Mary sighed, dropping her hands from her hips, “Anyway, you’re not alone, Marlene. Never have been.”

Marlene nodded, the mood suddenly sombre again. She fiddled with her thumb ring, “You… you don’t hate me?”

“Why would I hate you? You’re my best friend. I love you through everything, just as Lily does. You know this.” Mary said, smiling kindly at the beautiful mess she fell in love with.

“Because I’m a lesbian.” Marlene shrugged, “I thought…”

“Well, I don’t hate you.” Mary said quietly, “Never could.”

Marlene nodded, “And I’m in love with you.”

“How’s that any reason to hate you?”

“Because I’m creepy.” Marlene said, eyes wide as she looked at Mary, “I’m… weird. I start fights with you just so we can make up and be close to one another.”

Mary closed her eyes, trying to fight off the most radiant smile she’d ever found herself smiling. It’s embarrassing, really, how smitten she is right at this moment.

They’re hopeless.

Terribly fucking hopeless, both desperately clinging to one another, trying to get all that they can. Savouring every moment shared together, clinging, begging for just a little bit more.

Things don’t feel so hopeless anymore.

“Just so you'll… you’ll brush my hair and run your lovely hands through it.” Marlene whispered, gently taking Mary by the hands, brushing her calloused thumbs over the soft skin of her knuckles. “So that you might lay on my chest, so I can breathe in the smell of you, and play with the ends of your hair- how do you get it so soft, Mary? It’s so soft.”

“Because I look after it.” Mary said with a mocking smile.

Marlene rolled her eyes, a small smile curling up the ends of her pink lips. They’re a little chapped, as they usually are. Mary had gotten into the habit of handing Marlene her lipbalm everytime she happened to reapply, but months apart, she’s clearly severely been lacking in it.

Mary reached into her pocket and pulled the lipbalm out, handing it over to Marlene with a huff.

Marlene rolled her eyes and applied it, smacking her lips together, “Hmm, berry?”

“Gooseberry pie.” Mary offered, “It’s new.”

“It’s nice.” Marlene gave a shy smile, handing the lipbalm back, “Missed your lip balm… yet another reason I’m a creep. I don’t understand why you’re not mad.”

“Marlene…” Mary took her hands gently again, “Why would I be mad at someone for being in love with me?”

Marlene rolled her eyes and grumbled, shaking their joined hands in frustration, “Because I’m a weirdo who only puts your lip balm on so I might know what it tastes like to kiss you.”

“Does it taste nice enough to kiss?” Mary asked, blinking her eyes up at Marlene as she made herself small.

“Obviously.” Marlene sighed, bowing her head in shame, “I want to kiss you all the time, Mary. I’m just… awful- why’d you give that to me? I was getting used to not knowing.”

Mary smiled, shuffling a little closer, “So your lips wouldn’t be all gross and dry when I kiss you.”

“Yeah, righ-” Marlene gasped, the breath seemingly punched from her lungs when Mary pressed their lips together, “Mary!”

Mary pulled back, holding Marlene's hands tight down by their sides, “Marlene?”

“Don’t…” Marlene muttered, “Don’t fuck with me.”

“I’m not fucking with you, Marlie.” Mary whispered, leaning in to brush their noses together again, “You’re the entire fucking reason I broke up with him. Your… infuriating attitude and absence in my life made me realise how much I miss you- how much I need you. I missed our fights, because I missed making up too. I realised I used to start fights, just to get close to you after. I love you, Marlene. I mean it.”

“Double swear it?” Marlene asked, her voice breathless and awe struck.

“Triple.” Mary muttered, “I swear it on Lily’s life.”

“Fuck.” She whispered, dropping Mary’s hands to grab her by the face and tug.

Mary had never had a kiss to earth-shatteringly magnificent. This kiss has nothing on the movies. Marlene holds her tight in her grasp, like a treasure she’s terrified of dropping. She’s pressed so close that the only thing Mary can feel is Marlene, she’s all she knows at this moment. She kisses hard, and desperate, with teeth and tongue and bite. It’s rough and ruthless and so fucking perfect, far beyond anything Mary had ever dreamed of.

She buries her hands in Marlene's tousled hair and tugs, pressing her body into the shape of Marlenes, slotting together as if they were made for one another. Marlene makes a needy sound into Mary’s mouth that has her legs beginning to buckle and her head spinning with want.

They go stumbling back, collapsing down onto Marlene's bed, where they draw the curtains and don’t emerge until morning. It’s definitely Mary’s favourite way of making up now.

☆ ★ ☆

thanks for reading!! comments and reblogs are always very very appreciated and i love reading all that you have to say!

this was my firs wlw centric fic actually so im really excited to be posting it! and i promise im not projecting my own failed lesbian highschool lovestory onto it at all.

anyway, hope you enjoyed the readdddd!!

read here on ao3 :)

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