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ellecdc · 2 months

Note

Part two of feisty slytherin reader where it’s just the boys being like kinda in love with reader and everything you can pick how reader responds

this ended up taking me way longer to complete than I thought it would! it also ended up way longer than usual. here's the lead up to our infamous poly!marauders x feisty!slytherin reader!!! 🫶

poly!marauders x feisty, fem slytherin!reader CW: head injury - not graphic or detailed but mentions blood.

“Okay Moony, if you’re going to help us win over Y/N, you should know she does not like dramatic public displays of appreciation.” James said sagely as he walked into their shared dorm room.

Remus spared Sirius a confused look from his seat in the chair, but from the way James was currently rubbing his arm Sirius had a pretty good idea of what just took place.

“Yeah, erm, I don’t think you have to worry about that with me, bubs. Thanks for the heads up though.” Remus added bemusedly.

“Let me guess.” Sirius taunted, rolling over onto his stomach so that he faced James. “The charmed roses following her around the halls wasn’t a hit?”

“No, but she did...” He sulked, pulling his uniform shirt off to expose a small albeit quite red welt on his upper arm.

“Awe, poor Jamie. Come here bubs.” Remus cooed at him, opening his arms to invite the boy into his lap.

James obliged all too willingly and snuggled up to the werewolf like he was a small toddler and not a giant beefy man-baby.

“Don’t mollify him when he’s out here botching our grand plans to woo the girl of our dreams.” Sirius said, causing Remus to roll his eyes and James to scoff indignantly.

“Well at least I’m working on it! What are you doing to woo her?” James retaliated.

Sirius offered him a wolfish grin. “Oh, I’ve got a little trick up my sleeve.”

You had to get out of the castle. You could still feel everyone’s eyes on you, ogling you like you were some kind of freakshow.

You don’t know what kind of game those Gryffindor’s were trying to play, but you were not about to be the butt of whatever sodding joke this was.

Roses, really? Charmed to follow you around the castle as Potter smirked from the sidelines. Did he have any idea how humiliating that was?

So, yeah. You walloped him. In the arm. With your fist. Hard. But what else were you supposed to do!? You’d confronted him and demanded that he end the charm and all he said was ‘you look so cute when your nose scrunches up like that’.

He and Black have always been a bother – seemingly having taken some kind of interest in you for whatever reason. Lupin had always been more reasonable; one would think that he’d have evened those two out during their relationship, but apparently that was an impossible task. You supposed it was because he was all but one man.

But lately, even he was starting to stare at you a little too long, smile a little too softly, find too many excuses to be in your vicinity. It was infuriating.

So, you were outside.

It was nice outside.

Well, it was nice enough outside.

You packed yourself some snacks in your book bag, two blankets and an extra jumper to go sit by the Black Lake. You figured you should be able to enjoy some peace and quiet out here on your own.

You unfolded one of the blankets to lay onto the ground before sitting on it and then laid the second blanket over your lap. You could hear other students on the grounds in the distance and the soothing sound of the water lapping gently against the shore.

As luck would have it, a certain dog with long-black hair would set out to disrupt that.

“What are you doing here?” You asked the dog as it approached you calmly. You wondered for a moment if you should be scared before it stopped at the edge of your blanket to sit and tilt its head at you, his tongue falling out of his mouth haphazardly.

He didn’t look too scary, ignoring his size.

You craned your neck to look around, checking if perhaps he was here with someone, but it appeared that you were, in fact, alone on this side of the lake.

You felt something cold and wet nudge your pinkie, and you turned to see that the dog had laid down beside you with his head between his paws, nose next to your hand.

“If I pet you, are you going to bite me?” You asked him. He answered by nudging your hand again and offering it a little lick.

“You better not have fleas.” You muttered as you scratched behind the dog’s ears. You would have sworn he had furrowed his eyebrows at your comment if dogs could do such a thing. You noticed then that the dog had startling silver-blue eyes.

“Where are your people?” You asked, glad no one was around to see you conversing with a dog. He answered you by rolling over for belly rubs.

You scoffed out a laugh but acquiesced. “Fine, you can stay. But I came out here for peace and quiet, ‘kay?”

The dog seemed fine with that plan and let you read through two chapters of your book, only interrupting every paragraph or so for more pets. Eventually however, it grew too cold, and you decided to pack up.

Confirming your suspicions, the dog began to follow you towards the castle. You pretended like you hadn’t noticed or perhaps just didn’t care until you were near the greenhouses.

“For future reference, Black,” you said, turning to the dog who seemed to pause mid-step as you considered him. “I really am more of a cat person.” You smirked, turning to walk back to the castle alone.

“Here, let me get that for you.” James said, opening the door for you rather chivalrously in Sirius’ opinion.

“I’m not a delicate flower, Potter, I can open a door.” You muttered angrily, storming past him into the classroom.

James deflated a little as he followed you in, but perked up when Remus placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“I thought that was very sweet of you, Jamie.” He placated.

James gave him a half smile in response. “Thanks Moons.”

“I mean, what are we supposed to do? What bird doesn’t like dogs!?” Sirius grumbled, opting to ignore James’ whining.

“Don’t call her a bird, Sirius.” Remus chided.

“Probably didn’t help you’re a big ol’ mangy mutt.” James muttered petulantly.

“Oi!” Sirius called. “That’s not what you say when Padfoot snuggles you to sleep.”

James had the good graces to turn a little red at that.

Their conversation was interrupted (quite rudely if you asked Sirius) by Professor McGonagall as she began the instructions for today’s Transfiguration lesson: turning buttons into butterflies.

Sirius stole a concerned glance towards James to see Remus doing the same; they were horrified to see a mischievous look adorning their boyfriend’s face.

“Prongs...” Sirius warned, whilst Remus whispered a “remember what we talked about.”

But they both knew it was too late; there was no stopping him once James set his mind to something.

Sirius is quite sure it was the fourth butterfly that did you in; you seemed to consider the first a fluke, the second was annoying, the third made you suspicious, but by the fourth you’d had enough.

With little to no warning you turned and lobbed a large hard-covered tome at the group.

“I don’t know which of you tossers are behind this, but it reeks of Potter. So help me gods I will gut you and string you up to the rafters from your intestines if you don’t leave me alone!” You screeched.

“But how else will you know I’m crazy about you?” James pouted, causing you to groan exasperatedly.

“If you’re looking for some cutesy princess who will swoon at your sodding roses and butterflies, then you’ve got the wrong witch.” You spat.

Sirius smirked. “Oh, we have exactly the right witch.”

“I swear to Circe if you don’t leave me alone, I’ll sic Barty on you.” You threatened.

Sirius and James both scoffed whilst Remus smirked.

“Please dollface, you insult me. I’m not afraid of Junior.” Sirius taunted.

You narrowed your eyes at him menacingly before realization dawned on you. “Fine.” You said simply, giving Sirius a distinct uneasy feeling. “Perhaps I’ll tell Regulus.”

Sirius slammed his fist on the table and leaned forward. “You wouldn’t.” He seethed.

You smirked deviously. “Just try me, Black.” You sneered in response.

Did...did Sirius have a degradation kink?

Sirius was ashamed to admit that he had to take a very cold shower after that.

You had been sitting in the library trying to work on your Potions essay. You had felt fairly safe here seeing as the Gryffindor’s (at least the most problematic ones) had been sanctioned from using the library during quiet study hours on account of their typical foolishness.

Except one.

“Mind if I sit here?” Lupin’s lilting voice sounded from your right side before he sat down without waiting for your response.

“Why bother asking if you were just going to sit anyways?” You grumbled.

“Well, it was the polite thing to do.” He said, turning to face you. You held his gaze (his gaze, your glare) until he finally sighed. “I’ll leave if you want me to.”

You considered him for a moment. You couldn’t deny he was the least buffoonish out of the so-called Marauders though you’re not sure that amounted to much.

But he was quieter, kinder, softer around the edges. And he had been far more polite to you than his boyfriends.

“Are you going to flirt with me?”

One of Remus’ eyebrows (the one with the scar running through it, you noticed) raised expectantly as he considered you.

“Let me rephrase that.” You barked quickly, realizing your mistake perhaps a touch too late. “You may sit here, but if you flirt with me, I will stab you with my quill.” You punctuated your threat by blotting his hand which rested on the table with ink from the tip of your quill.

Remus smiled at the sight before returning his amber coloured gaze to yours. “Fair enough. I promise to try to restrain myself, but perhaps you ought to hold onto this hand for me just in case I slip up.” And he – the absolute sodding bastard – slid his left hand comfortably into your right.

You’d never seen someone make a move so assertively and smoothly before. There was nothing to say that any of this even affected Remus as he immediately turned his attention to his book. Was it hot in here? Your hand felt sweaty. Your throat felt tight. Your mouth was dry. Why didn’t you think to bring a bottle of water?!

“Erm,” you started, having to pause to clear your throat. “Just how am I supposed to get my work done with your hand in mine, Lupin?”

You had tried to sound threatening, but based off Remus’ smirk, you’d only managed to goad him further.

“You’re left-handed. Figure it out.”

These boys were going to be the death of you if you didn’t end up killing them first.

“You held her hand!?” James screeched in their dorm room that night whilst Remus smirked to himself. Sirius would make fun of James for his dramatics if he wasn’t just a pissed off about this.

“I’ve been working at this the longest out of either of you, and she lets you hold her hand?” He continued.

“She doesn’t like dogs,” Sirius grumbled, gesturing to himself, “she doesn’t like James. But the werewolf? Really. No offence Moons because I absolutely get the appeal.”

James snapped his fingers as he had a eureka moment. “I’ve got it! Remus; bite me!”

“James!” Remus scolded.

“It’s not fair.” James muttered as he fell onto his bed in defeat. “I’d be so good to her.”

Any ire from Sirius and Remus drained at that as they both moved to join their boyfriend on his bed.

“We know, bubs.” Remus conceded.

“We just...have to give her time. I’m sure she’ll come around, yeah? I mean, with Remus’ smooth moves, my undeniable charm, and your muscles? We’re unstoppable.” Sirius added, eliciting a smile from Remus and a gentle chuckle from James, though his usual light was diminished.

“We’ve just got to be patient, Jamie.” Remus concluded, causing James to groan.

“Patience.” He spat spitefully.

“A 'James ADHD Potter' special.” Sirius winked before kissing any further protests away from James’ lips.

“We’ve got Moony on our team now, bubs. We’re unstoppable.” He whispered, truly believing what he was saying.

If anyone could break through your hard candy-coating shell to reach the chocolate inside, it was certainly Remus Lupin.

You’d had the lovely idea of sitting outside on one of the few sunny days that Scotland got to see this time of year. Unfortunately, it seemed that everyone else had the same idea too.

A few Hufflepuffs were playing with a charmed muggle football, kicking it back and forth between the two of them and chasing after it when it opted to fuck off on its own. You didn’t understand the objective of the game, nor did you care to.

Remus and Peter Pettigrew sat on a bench not too far off playing a game of Wizarding Chess that, from where you were sitting, looked like Remus was winning.

You got so caught up in watching Lupin’s game with Pettigrew - in the way that the tendons in his wrist and hands flexed as he moved pieces across the board, and the way that his honey blonde curls fell in front of his eyes causing him to have to blow air upwards so he could see the board - that you noticed something flying at you far too late.

“Look out!” One of the dumb Hufflepuff’s shouted far too late as their charmed football soared into the side of your head, knocking you clean over where your head cracked painfully against a root of the tree you were sitting under.

You scrunched your eyes tight and tried to will your heart to start beating again and your lungs to cooperate, every part of your body seeming to have tensed out of instinct to protect itself.

“L/N! L/N! Come on, dove, open your eyes.” You heard a voice above you.

Why was the voice so worried? How long were your eyes closed? A gentle hand grabbed your chin and wiggled your head back and forth, causing you to hiss in pain.

“Sod...off.” You gritted through your teeth.

The voice chuckled and wiggled your chin once more. “There she is. Open your eyes for me.”

You hated being told what to do but decided to comply anyways.

You probably should have kept your eyes close because the sight made you feel dizzy for a completely different reason.

Hovering above your frame was Remus Lupin; his knees on the ground beside your elbow, one hand gripping your chin and the other gently moving hair away from your face and head.

“Atta girl.” He said with a smile.

“Get away from me.” You grumbled as you moved to sit up. Though Lupin hissed in protest, he helped you sit up nonetheless.

“Is...is she okay?” a timid voice spoke from somewhere behind Lupin’s shoulder causing his expression to darken considerably.

“You stupid wankers are so dead.” You spat as loudly as you could manage, though in your current state – that wasn’t very loud at all.

Your message was received loud and clear, however, as the two Hufflepuffs took off in fear.

“My sentiments exactly.” Lupin muttered as he turned back to you, jaw still tense.

You snorted indelicately as you brought a hand to your head. “Please, don’t tell me you actually care about me, Lupin.”

You hissed in pain as your hand came in contact with something warm and wet and slightly sticky. You pulled your hand back in front of you to inspect, only for Lupin to grab your hand rather harshly and wipe the blood away with a handkerchief.

“Is it so impossible to believe that we could actually care for you?” He muttered quietly, eyes focused on your hand, pointedly avoiding eye contact with you. You watched as his curls bounced with each wipe of his hand against yours. You thought of his gentle hands brushing hair away from your wound moments before. You thought of him begging you to open your eyes. You thought of him being the first one at your side when you were hurt.

And you thought about Black finding ways to be with you even when you staunchly refused his company. You thought of him taking time out of his day to tell you how ‘smoking hot’ you looked that day, even though he said it every day before that, too.

And you thought about Potter who always held the door for you, saved you a seat even though you never accepted it, showered you in affection even though it was public and quite embarrassing. And you thought of the way he always had a smile to give you, even when you gave him no reason to smile at all.

It wasn’t hard to imagine the three of them caring for anyone, quite frankly. Caring seemed to come second nature to those boys.

“No.” You admitted quietly. “It’s not impossible to believe that you could actually care. It’s just impossible to imagine why.”

He stopped rubbing at your hand and met your eye, seemingly contemplating what to say.

“Let’s get you to Madam Pomfrey.” He opted for. “Pete, let the boys know where I’ve gone when they’re finished with practice?” Lupin called over his shoulder.

“I can walk myself, Lupin.” You grumbled as he helped you up by your elbow.

“Yeah, yeah.” He grumbled back. “You’re not a delicate flower, we know.”

The two of you more or less muttered back and forth to each other the entire way to the infirmary, Lupin supporting more of your weight than he likely needed too but you didn’t feel the need (nor desire) to complain.

Madam Pomfrey was in the middle of looking after a first year Potions class who accidently set off an explosion of incorrectly brewed Cure for Boils which ultimately left each student (and Professor Slughorn) covered head to toe in painful boils.

“Mr. Lupin, if you could clean the wound for me. And Miss. L/N, drink the pain potion. Do not leave until I’ve had a chance to do a proper examination, okay?” She ordered as you positioned yourself more comfortably on the bed after she determined you weren’t about to die (or currently crying, as most of the first years were).

You took the pain potion dutifully and placed it back on the table beside your bed before you startled at the sudden cold wet cloth on your head.

“You are not seriously doing this right now, are you?” You spat.

Remus’ eyebrows drew together as his hands continued on in their task. “You heard the matron; I’m supposed to clean it.”

“I can clean it myself, Lupin; I’ll conjure a mirror.” You argued, causing the scarred boy to scoff.

“I do what I’m told L/N, and quite frankly, the matron scares me more than you do.”

“I must be doing something wrong then.” You sighed, thinking you hadn’t said that loud enough to be heard, but a startled laugh escaped Lupin’s lips.

“Why do you act so volatile?” He asked amusedly.

“It’s not an act.”

“I call bullshit.”

“Well, you call wrong, then, Lupin. I’m an arse and I find everyone exhausting. Deal with it.” You snarked sharply.

Lupin breathed a laugh through his nose. “Maybe we can find out what the hell your problem is over dinner sometime, then.”

Rotten bastard and his smooth talk...

“WHERE IS SHE!?” a voice echoed through the corridor just outside the entrance to the infirmary. Madame Pomfrey needn’t even look up from the boil she was currently draining of puss to know who she was about to scold.

“Mr. Potter, I will have you banned from this infirmary so fast if you raise your voice above so much as a whisper, do not try me. That goes for you too, Mr. Black.” She barked; eyes still focused on the first year’s arm in front of her.

Sure enough, a mop of curly hair, impossibly more wild than usual due to the flight on his broom, poked around the privacy curtains a second before it was joined by a fuming looking Sirius Black.

Potter’s eyes flew to where Remus’ hands were positioned on your head and your stomach lurched at what looked like tears pooling in Potter’s eyes.

“Potter...please, erm, please don’t cry?” You asked awkwardly, leaning away from Remus’ touch as you suddenly became very uncomfortable with this amount of attention.

“She’s alright, Jamie.” Remus sighed, pulling you back over to him gently by the shoulder and continuing his prodding at your wound.

“Who did it?” Sirius spat, arms crossed defensively across his chest and jaw tight as he stared hard at the wound on your head. You were horrified to admit to yourself that he was hot. You’d never really seen it before, how all the girls in your year (and other years) fawned over the long-haired boy.

But he was currently standing in front of you still adorned in his quidditch gear, hair pulled back into a low bun - though he had many fly-aways on account of his recent time in the air - his cheeks still dusted pink from the assertion, and he was currently fuming on your behalf.

Yeah...he was hot.

“Easy.” Remus warned.

“Answer me!” Sirius spat back.

“Pads. I mean it, leave it.” Remus said with finality.

Your eyes darted nervously between the two boys currently staring each other down, but Potter’s eyes were still steadfast on you.

“Let me, Rem.” He finally said gently – the most gently you’d ever heard from the rambunctious boy as he gently moved Remus aside and took over.

“I’m okay, you know.” You offered, not liking how worked up these boys were currently over you.

“I know.” He agreed. “I just hate to see you hurt.”

“Why?”

“Yeah, why.” You pressed. James looked like you just asked him to calculate the distance between the galaxy of Andromeda and our solar system using the measurement of broomsticks.

“I... I don’t want to see you hurt?”

“You want to see Snape hurt.” You countered, causing James’ face to harden.

“Snape’s a tosser.” He muttered darkly.

“I’m not any nicer than Snape.”

“See, Y/N. You’re so smart and lovely and perfect, but you are way off on that front.” James said through a laugh. “Snape is prejudiced, vindictive, and a racist blood supremist. You’re just combative.” He explained, punctuating the word combative with a gentle boop of your nose.

You wanted to break his finger.

But that would be combative, and you would rather die than prove Potter right, so you opted to roll your eyes instead.

“Did they even hang around to see if she fucking survived or did they just take off to avoid detention?” Sirius spat at Remus, not looking any calmer than he did when he arrived.

“They stayed.” You answered tiredly. “They took off afterwards, and not to avoid detention, but to avoid me.”

“And me.” Remus muttered quietly, looking dangerously close to going back out there to find them himself.

“Did you threaten them?” Sirius asked severely, though you weren’t sure who exactly he had asked.

“Yes.” You and Lupin both answered exasperatedly.

Sirius looked between the two of you before letting out a sigh. “Fine, but if I run into them, I’m hexing them into oblivion.”

“Not if I get to them first.” You growled.

Sirius’ face finally softened as he sat on the end of your bed and cautiously touched your ankle under the blankets.

“You sure you’re okay, Y/N?”

And you aren’t sure what did it.

You weren’t sure if it was the softness you saw in Sirius that you were sure you could have never even imagined possible from a person, let alone someone related to the infamous Black family. Or if it was the eyebrows of Remus Lupin that were furrowed in concern as he dutifully watched his boyfriend finish plastering a bandage to your head, or if it was the unbelievable softness of James Potter’s touch – in complete contrast to his fast, rough, bouncing personality that you were usually subjected to.

But dammit, you felt a tear slip down your cheek.

You wiped it away quickly and nodded your head in yes.

You braced yourself for the teasing, the cooing, the dramatic displays of affection. But Sirius quickly stood and disappeared behind the curtains, James began pouring you a glass of water, and Remus reached into his bag for something.

Remus returned to you first, breaking off a square of chocolate for you. “It’ll help.”

You were too embarrassed to argue and took it, popping it into your mouth dutifully.

“Here.” Sirius said as he appeared back at your bedside, handing you a vial.

“What is it?” You asked, your voice taut with emotion.

Sirius’ eyes softened again as he offered you a sad smile. “Calming draught. You can’t have any more pain potion, but this might make you feel better.”

“And if not, maybe you can convince Moony to share more of his chocolate.” James commented with a soft smile.

You grimaced at the taste of the potion and chased it with the water James had poured for you.

“Thank you.” You admitted quietly, shame colouring your tone as you looked to your lap.

“None of that.” Remus said as he handed you another piece of chocolate.

You took it skeptically. “Why do they call you Moony?”

No one said anything for a moment, but you could tell that neither James nor Sirius were moving a muscle as they watched Remus who in turn watched you.

“Because of my lycanthropy.” He said plainly.

You looked at the various scars before you started to laugh. Sirius’ face drained of all colour while James visibly tensed.

“Of course you are. Remus Lupin. Named after a man raised by wolves and the lupus, or wolf constellation. Oh gods, it was predestined, clearly.”

“Are...are you laughing at me right now?” Remus asked incredulously.

“It’s a little funny...no?” You asked back.

He looked as if he were torn between laughing and crying. “I pour my heart out to you – my deepest darkest secret, and you laugh at me?” He asked again, some amusement colouring his features.

“I told you, I’m an arse.” You said with a shrug of your shoulders.

“Does it bother you?” Sirius asked cautiously from the end of your bed, face appearing impassive for all intents and purposes.

“I don’t see why it should, it’s none of my business.”

“It could be.” Remus input.

“You don’t want me. I’m no good, Lupin.” You stressed, looking back down at your hands.

“Neither am I.” Sirius agreed.

“Me neither.” Remus added.

“I’m n-” James started.

“So what if the only one of us worthy of love and affection here is James?” Sirius said, cutting James off. “It’s not going to stop me from cherishing what I can get - deserved or not.”

You groaned and threw your head back onto the pillow, cringing at the effect the fast movement had on you and the pain that the movement elicited in your neck.

“Okay, what about this.” James conciliated. “You don’t have to agree to be with us, just give us a chance? The time of day? One Hogsmeade trip to let us fawn over you.”

You looked up at his deep brown eyes that felt so warm you wanted to make a home in them. Sirius, in all his bravado, looked pained as he waited for an answer, and Remus smiled encouragingly at you.

“Fine!” You acquiesced with a groan. “One Hogsmeade trip.”

Much to your chagrin, though not really at all, it ended up being way more than just one Hogsmeade trip.

Thank you to @unstablereader who gave us the library handholding prompt 🫶

1K notes · View notes

lizpottersworld · 2 months

Text

౨ৎ forever and always (remus lupin x reader)

summary: you and remus also enjoy a day at the library in hogwarts and discuss the future for you two.

pairings: remus lupin x female! reader

request here

remus and you were a very easy going couple. you both were best friends before even dating and already enjoyed spending time together, so the casual and usual things you would usually do as friends also came along in your relationship. obviously, only now including the touches and kisses in between each and every thing.

today was one of those dates, exams were coming up in the next few weeks and you both needed to get the revision in.

“how can you call studying, a date?” sirius grimaced, helping you carry your books to the library to where remus was waiting.

“well, me and remus can,” you sighed, “we know we love each-other and we don’t need anything too special to know that. plus we have exams in nearly a week.” you explained, taking the books back from sirius.

“only you and moony would say that.” sirius laughed, waving goodbye to you and skipping away back to annoy james in their dorm.

you scoffed hiding your laugh, pushing the door open with the nudge of your busy arm. not many students were in the library, only a few recognisable classmates and your effortlessly beautiful boyfriend.

he was glancing every so often from his book, looking for you. as you walked closer, he must have picked up on your footsteps and looked up with a bright smile on his face, leaving his seat to hug you.

as soon as you placed your books down, remus pulled you lovingly into a warm embrace, also busying your lips with a sweet and passionate kiss.

“you okay, dove?” remus asked, “missed you.” honey practically dripping from the sweetness of his voice. always being so soft and gentle when speaking with you for whatever reason.

“yeah, i’m good remmy, sirius helped me with my books.” you replied, appreciatively commenting on the friend of his that had helped you. which automatically made remus’ heart swell, both at the help of his friend and the nickname you had.

“well thats good,” he muttered kissing your forehead, “come on lets sit down, love.” he smiled, pulling out your chair and taking a seat himself.

the two of you studied in each-other’s company nearly all day, always choosing to hold hands or fiddle with the bracelet on his wrist whilst reading. it was sweet and comforting. being able to study in a relaxing silence whilst not feeling alone.

thats what it always felt like with remus, you were never alone. he was always there, through the hard days and the best days.

you hoped it would be like that forever. always having someone like remus in your life, or really just him in general. you were already used to having him in your busy life, keeping him through it all would just keep it even less stressful.

you two would graduate at Hogwarts, move into a cozy house in Scotland and find jobs that you both enjoyed. maybe even children were in the picture for the two of you, that was always what you dreamed of anyway. he was perfect for the kind of the life you wished for yourself, he was perfect for anything.

it was just a hopeful dream that you had. of staying with your first love after you finish school and continue to live out your life together, in all fairness the two of you were already half way there. it just depended on what he wanted, something you never thought to ask.

“you okay, dove?” he asked, soothingly rubbing the skin on your hand. you looked up bewildered, face softening at the care in his eyes.

“yeah, sorry, i was just thinking.” you smiled, moving the dusty blonde hair out of his face, hand resting on his soft cheek a little while longer. he immediately relaxed into your touch, closing his eyes for a few seconds longer then returning back to the conversation.

he hummed, “anything i can help you with?” he questioned, kissing the hand that you caressed his cheek with.

“i’m just thinking about after hogwarts,” you added, picking up the pen that you left on the table, “and about us.” you mumbled, jotting down some words on your paper.

“theres not much to think about,” he begun, making your heart sink involuntarily, “oh no no not like that, love,” he laughed, bringing your hand into his, “what i mean’t is, you’re never getting rid of me, i’m too helplessly in love with you to let you go and i just assumed that we would finish school, get married and start our own family.” he explained, stating it as if it was the plan all along.

your mouth opened, words not coming out, not being able to form a sentence. all you did was lean forward and pull his lips onto yours, joining you two into a long passionate kiss. remus’ hand fell to cup your face and the other to rest on your hip, deepening the kiss in want and desire. your hands found your way into his now messy hair, pulling away to nod and repeat yes over and over.

“i’m glad you feel the same sweetheart.” he grinned, lips slightly tinted and swollen. he leaned in to steal more kisses from you, being interrupted by the loud cough of the librarian.

“excuse me, you two need to leave, this public affection is unacceptable.” she queried, eyes piercing through the two of you in front of her.

“but—“ you frowned more at her gaze, looking at your boyfriend who was holding back a smile. you both started packing up your books, still with her watching and still with remus threatening a laugh. you nudged his shoulder in warning causing his laugh to slip out, entertaining one from you and a more intense glare from the librarian.

“we’re leaving!” remus attempted to defend the two of you, more laughs falling out, as you two rushed to the door of the library. and you felt free, free to live this never ending love filled life with remus forever and always.

#marauders #marauders era #marauders imagine #marauders x reader #marauders x y/n #marauders fluff #fluff #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x oc #remus lupin x self insert #remus lupin x #sirius black x reader

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empress-simps · 1 month

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James Fleamont Potter

>> A Gryffindor’s Grief >> Heart Chaser

>> Bruises and Broomsticks

>> Foolish Heart

Remus John Lupin

>> Letters To My Lupin

>> Missed Hints

>> Beyond the Surface

>> Loving Yellow and Black

>> Uncle Padfoot’s Motorcycle

Sirius Orion Black

>> Scribbles and Sketches

>> Line That Leads To You(smau!)

>> Amortentia’s Fault

Poly!Marauders

>> Worried Sick

>> Lazy Days

Main Masterlist

Navigation

#marauders masterlist #marauders fic #marauders fanfiction #marauders era #marauders x reader #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #peter pettigrew #poly!marauders x reader #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #self insert

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inthewindandinthewater · 7 months

Text

A Plain of Stars

A/n- This could be the start of something new, I suppose it could stand on its own but let me know if you'd like a continuation. Give it a little reblog or a comment if you do and I'll try to write more. But as it is this is a one shot with Regulus Black, but it also focuses some on your relationship to Sirius and his departure. Reader is pureblooded and a part of the Abbott family, it is written in second person and there is no use of y/n. Reader wears a dress and is alluded to being female presenting.

Warnings: Light cursing , arranged marriages, and allusions to abuse

Summary: Your parents throw an All Hallows Eve ball each year, one you typically spent running about with Sirius Black. However, after he is disowned your world is flipped on its head.

Chapter 2

⋆⋆⋆☆✦☆☆✭☆☆✦☆☆✭☆☆✦☆⋆⋆⋆

The ball was terribly dull. No- calling it dull would be giving it too much credit. It was mind numbingly, brain meltingly boring.

Every October your parents held an All Hallows Eve ball, Abbott Manor would be draped in finery- more than usual- and enough food to feed and army would be prepared laid out upon gilded platters and china dishes. Floating candles flew high above the ballroom and a live orchestra played slow, floating music. It was beautiful. And horribly boring.

It was typical for the list of the 28 pureblood houses- The Sacred 28- to be used as a glorified guest list for events such as these. Your parents were no exception to the rule. It was also typical for a few of them to politely decline the offer.

This is what was expected of the Noble House of Black, specifically the branch containing one Sirius Black. Sirius had split off from his family a few years ago, after which his father, mother, and younger brother had been declining invitations to balls and dinners. Most assumed it was because these events were little more than networking opportunities, ways for families to present their children as merits or trading stock.

Since Sirius’ grand escape there hadn’t been much of a reason for them to attend, his brother Regulus had never been a social butterfly. No where near the easy going, suave nature of his brother. Sirius had a way of commanding the room, of stealing the spotlight and reveling in it’s glow. Regulus preferred to traverse the shadows.

You missed Sirius dearly. He had always kept you entertained, and despite being slightly older than you it was clear he had taken a liking to you over the other children present. After he left you had been all but shunned, the other almost wondered if you would be the next to flee or if you had known about his plans and kept them hidden.

The truth was, no one had been more blind sided than you. He hadn’t said a word to you, one day he had sent you a letter, typical talk about his day and how his summer had been, and the next he was gone- off to live with the Potters, lost to you forever.

It was enough to make you bitter, bitter against him, against the Potter boy, and against Gryffindor house as a whole for stealing your only friend. This had resulted in a closer alliance with your own house, specifically with Evan and Pandora Rosier. They understood the situation you were in, and they hadn’t cared about your previous friendship with Sirius. The two were like little sunspots in the shrouded darkness of pureblood society. They were colorful and fun, you’d cursed yourself a little for not becoming friends with them sooner.

You knew Evan was also friends with Regulus, the two were practically inseparable. So when the Blacks had accepted the invitation, you were not only shocked but also nervous at the prospect of seeing the boy after so long.

The assumption after Sirius left was that Regulus would become the new heir to the Noble House of Black. But he hadn’t been trained, groomed, the way Sirius had. He didn’t know the intricacies of social networking, and generally how to be an heir. So they’d taken time to teach, to mold him into what they needed him to be. You assumed he was ready now, that this would be his mock debut, his soft opening to being in society… without his brother.

“My goodness this is horrible” Pandora sighed, taking a swing out of her champagne glass. She stood between you and her brother and the three of you surveyed the area, “I won’t lie, I am not having the best time” Evan looked over at you sympathetically. “It isn’t my ball, so I don’t know why you’re looking at me”, you say, rolling your eyes and taking a sip from your own glass. “Regulus should have arrived by now,” He says, completely ignoring your previous statement and looking down at the gold watch on his wrist. “I wonder what’s keeping him”

The twins were stunning by all accounts. Pandora was draped in a stunning dark red gown that highlighted her pale skin and blonde hair, she was gilded in fine white gold jewelry and her hair was done in loose waves that reached her mid back. Her brother was fitted in an expertly tailored matte black suit, his blonde curls slicked back just enough to highlight his strong bone structure and piercing blue eyes- two traits the twins overtly shared.

You on the other hand were in a deep blue, silk gown. The back was low and the silver necklace you wore hung down the column of your spine to accentuate it. Your hair was up, giving you a more refined elegant look with long glittering earrings that hit just above your shoulders. You were the picture of a young heiress.

“Maybe he won’t show” you offer lazily, trying to feign a lack of interest in the youngest Black’s actions, everyone else had been in such a stir about them without you adding to the pot. “Oh that would be a fantastic look,” Pandora guffawed, “Disown your brother, disappear for a few years, and then be a no-show at the first ball you accept! Well played Regulus!”

“Thank you” a smooth, deep voice from behind you replied. The three of you turned to face the source of the voice, only to be confronted with one Regulus Black. “Although I don’t know what you’re referencing Dora.” He smirks at the look on your faces, ones of awe and slight annoyance you’re sure. “Reggie!” Evan stepped forward and threw an arm around Regulus’s shoulder, “and here we thought you wouldn’t show '' He added, shaking Regulus’s shoulder lightly. Regulus’s smirk stayed firmly on his face, “the two of you ought to know me better” he says. “That’s not fair and you know it, it’s good to see again- outside of school that is” Pandora replied and her usual easy going manor.

You look at Regulus for a while, not saying anything. Stunned a bit by how he managed to look so much like Sirius yet so different. He’s dressed in a black suit with a white chemise underneath, and his deep blue tie is almost the exact color of your dress. “Abbott, you’ve met Regulus, yeah?” Evans' voice breaks your trance and snaps your eyes away from Regulus to look at him. “Um, yes. I believe we’ve met before” You say, clearing your throat a bit and shaking your thoughts. “Have we?” He questions, “I don’t know that we were properly introduced.” He takes a step toward, taking your hand in his and raising your gloved hand to his lips, pressing a small kiss to the knuckles, “it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, I’ve heard so much” He says, leaving your head spinning and your knees a bit weak.

It wasn’t unusual for such formal introductions to be used in settings like this, but it was amongst friends. Especially people your age, his parents must have done a number on him you thought. “Yes, of course.” You reply after a beat of silence.

“You need a drink” Evan announces, looking to his friend and beginning to guide him away. “We’ll be back shortly girls, go gossip about nail polish or hair potion or something.” He teases and he walks away with Regulus in tow.

You whip around to face Pandora, “what the hell?!” her face mirrors your, one of shock and awe. “Keep your voice down, if your mother heard that word escape you-” She cuts herself off, “has he lost his mind” she quickly switched topic, when Pandora got excited she had a tendency to bounce all over the place. “I don’t know! I don’t know him. Is he usually that- that?” You ask, at a loss for words. Your hand still tingles with the feeling of his lips over your glove. “He isn’t!” She said, “or he wasn’t, I suppose it’s been a while since I really spoke to him. But he used to be so shy! He would have never done that!” You stared at her for a moment, soaking in her words, “So what, he had ‘heir training’ and he’s suddenly putting the moves on me?” You ask. “Oh. Oh” She said, her face dropping in realization, then quickly morphing into a giddy smile. “What.” You say, you know that smile, she knows something. “There were rumors… before Sirius left” She adds the last part in a whisper, not wanting to loudly bring up such a sore topic. “What rumors?” Your eyebrows knit together as you urge her on, leaning towards her a little. “Let me finish and I’ll tell you” She chides and you roll your eyes with a short nod, “Rumors that your parents and his wanted the two of you to… well you know.” Your eyes go wide and you fall completely silent.

“Hope you haven’t had too much fun without us” Evans' words once again cut through the silence. “Please we only have fun when you aren’t around.” Pandora recovers easily, while you fix your posture and your expression in her wake. “Rude ass” The blonde says, narrowing his eyes at his sister.

The mention of your name grabs your attention and you come to the realization that it’s Regulus who called. Your eyes find his as you address him silently, “would you care to dance” He says, you remember one thing about Regulus from your youth. He wasn’t a dancer, he avoided it at all costs and he never actively asked anyone to the floor. This was an interesting night for sure. “Why not?” You say, giving him a small smile, which he did his best to return.

Regulus took your hand and guided you out onto the floor. A new song began and more couples, old and young, flooded in around you. He placed his free hand on your waist and the other held your hand out to the side. Your own hand finds his shoulder as you fall into an easy waltz.

Despite his aversion to it in his younger years, Regulus is a wonderful dancer. He leads you gently around the room in well practiced steps and you feel at ease with his hand in yours as you follow his movements. Soon the two of you have moved closer to one other, closing a bit of the distance that had settled in the first awkward moments of the dance. Now his hand had moved to you back and you chests were mere millimeters apart. He leans down to whisper in your ear, “you look lovely this evening.” He says softly, almost shy in his tone. You look up to meet his eye, his face is unreadable, but soft. “Thank you, you look quite nice yourself” you manage through your fluster and blushing cheeks. He smiles down at you but says no more as the song comes to a close. The two of you make your way off the dance floor and back over to your friends.

The rest of the night goes on like normal. Evan and Pandora swapping insults, the four of you making critiques on the attire choices of the other guests and trading gossip about the families both in attendance and absent. But you didn’t miss the way Regulus kept looking over to you, the way he would bend over to whisper certain comments in your ear or brush away a stray hair. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the attention.

Eventually the night came to a close and each of you found your parents for a final parting. You stood at the door with your own parents, bidding goodnight to every guest that passed through the door. As the Blacks approached you felt the familiar stirring in your chest at the sight of their youngest.

“Thank you for coming, it’s been a pleasure to have you in our home” Your mother says. “Of course, it was a wonderful evening” Walburga replies, giving her a curt smile. Your father shook hands with Orion, and said something you couldn’t quite make out, something that made Orion cut his eyes to you for a brief moment. You’re pulled out of your thoughts by a hand taking yours, “It was lovely to meet you” Regulus says, squeezing your hand lightly. “Yes” you say, a bit breathless “I hope to see you again, perhaps we’ll see more of one another at school” You add tentatively. “I think we’ll be seeing much more of one another” He says, a smirk that says ‘I know something you don’t’ just ghosting over his features. He drops you hand and makes his exit behind his parents, you can’t help but watch him go and you miss the look your mother gives you father as you do.

Later that night you find it hard to sleep, too many things to think about. Too much new information to mull over for your mind to allow you rest. What had Pandora meant by telling you about your potential engagement to Sirius? Why had Regulus acted that way toward you? And why did you have the feeling everyone was hiding something from you? Then it dawned on you, a realization that had all the pieces falling into order. Regulus had become Sirius’s replacement in more ways than one; they had taken the spot he’d left and crudely shoved Regulus into it. He wasn’t attempting to be nice or make friends in a new setting. He was trying to make a good impression, trying to woo you. His future wife.

#regulus black #Regulus black x reader #regulus black x you #self insert #the maruaders #harry potter #evan rosier #pandora rosier #sirius black

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princesspuffle8 · 5 days

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Double double toil and trouble…

Your second set of twins with Sirius was NOT planned. I mean your first set wasn’t planned either, to have twins that is, but you were ok with having one more baby… they just happened to turn into two.

But your second set well they happened on a wild night celebrating your wedding anniversary on a spontaneous trip to France (your kids were left with their godparents and uncle). And well lots of fun time was had… as Sirius had one to do list for that trip… and that was you.

Needless to say when you got pregnant again it was not a shock to anyone. Sirius was beyond elated to be a daddy again. Polaris was both equal part grossed out (he had the birds and the bees talk a couple years back) and equally excited for a new sibling. Lysithea was nervous (poor baby thought that you and Sirius wouldn’t love her anymore and needed some reassurance when the pregnancy was announced) but after that hurdle she was excited about being a big sister and was obsessed with making cute little beanies and bows for the new babes. Regulus, their uncle, who was constantly involved in the kids lives was equal parts excited and equal parts “are you two rabbits” much to your annoyance. And your twin boys Leo and Andy well they wanted another set of twins like them. In fact that was all they talked about.

And they got their wish. Not identical twins like the boys but fraternal twin girls. And boy their birth was a bit of a shock. You weren’t new to the twin mom experience, and you enjoyed seeing your family grow. It was the opposing appearance that was what was so special.

The eldest but smaller twin Cassiopeia Lily Black, aka Cassi or Sirius calls her lil pea, had black hair and brilliant gold eyes that seemed to literally glow and her skin tone was closer to pale much like Sirius’s. She was the more wild of the twins, loud and expressive since birth.

While her sister, Carina Dorcus Black (aka Cari or Rina) was the exact opposite. Born with pure white hair (which neither you nor Sirius were sure where that came from, and the healer said it may be a magical coincidence) and Sirius’s silver eyes and your skin tone, she was a bit of a surprise in contrast to most of all your other children as most of them had inherited their fathers dark hair. Unlike her twin, Carina was more quiet and not much of a crier. Which was concerning to you for her first few months because you honestly thought something might be wrong with her (like she was sick) since she didn’t cry very often. Alas, as she grew to be a healthy baby your fears subsided.

Dorcus, their godmother, joked that they were yin Yang babies. Which you could honestly see.

As for your family dynamic…

Well it was already chaotic (Sirius would correct you and say that he was raising baby marauders to cause mischief) but the twins only added to the love and chaos

Polaris was super happy to be a big brother of sisters again. He would joke and say they were more fun than brothers. Your twin boys were super happy to have another set of twins in the family. “The twin magic is strong,” they’d brag, as if being twins gave them special magical powers (it did not). And Lysithea had well mixed emotions that resolved themselves with love and support. And since then she was super protective big sister, who loves picking out the headwear for her siblings.

As for your husband, Sirius, he was over the moon at being a girl dad again. But also was super proud at having twins again bragging to James that “his swimmers were going strong” (you playfully hit him on the arm for that one). He had nicknames that only he called the babies. Cassiopeia was lil pea since she was the smaller twin and Carina was snow bunny (since they were born in winter and she had white hair).

As for you, you couldn’t be more happy. Elated about your little… well big… family but also you swore up and down to Sirius that you were DONE having children. To which he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and kissed your neck while whispering that he still thinks you guys could try for a quidditch team…

… he can’t keep his hands to himself when it comes to you

#harry potter #writing #fanfic #headcanon #sirius black #babies #sirius black x reader #sirius black x y/n #y/n #reader insert #self insert #hp marauders #marauders era

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mediocre-daydreams · 2 years

Text

(ch.3) i don’t do love

sirius despises the amortentia trope

pairing: sirius black x female! potter! slytherin! reader

summary: slughorn has a little too much fun playing matchmaker with his amortentia lesson, james’ bias confirmation is so so bad when it comes to lily, and sirius determines that oranges are objectively the worst fruit

warnings: stupid dialogue, the amortentia trope, NO (Y/N), she/her pronouns, mentions of internalized homophobia (like 4 words)

W/C: 1.7k

A/N: i feel like as my adhd meds wear off, the writing devolves into utter chaos and clownery and i wok e up and went into a writing haze and this was the result

Sirius was having the worst day of his life. He contemplated leaping out the dungeon window to allow himself to be eaten by the giant squid, but with his luck, the squid would befriend him instead and then drag him around like its little pet until he was doomed to be the cephalopod’s wet dog forever.

He figured his odds looked better if he just stayed in Potions class.

“Ms. McKinnon, since you’ve got a good understanding of Amortentia, why don’t you come up front and let us know what you see?” Marlene’s eyes flickered across the dungeon, catching the eyes of sly, smirking students as well as students confused by all the buzz in the room. She approached the cauldron cautiously.

“Well, the mother-of-pearl sheen… it’s definitely sheening! And as you can see, there is steam which is curling!” Marlene tucked her hands in the sleeves of her robes to hide their growing clamminess.

Slughorn guffawed. “You’re not the first nervous student I’ve had, Ms. McKinnon. It seems like most of you already know what today’s activity will be. Care to explain, McKinnon?”

“Right… I forgot to mention earlier, but one of Amortentia’s most unique qualities is that it smells different to every person. Usually, the scent depends on what, or who—” she faltered, refusing to make eye contact with her seatmate, “someone’s attracted to. I think.”

“Thank you again, Ms. McKinnon! Five points to Gryffindor for your explanation and another five as my apology for forcing you into the spotlight. You may take a seat unless you’d like to be first to take a whiff?” Marlene darkened, shuffling her way back to Dorcas with uncharacteristic timidness. Slughorn gathered the students around the cauldron, close enough so they could catch a glimpse of the liquid inside but far enough so that they wouldn’t be able to smell anything, thus ensuring the livelihood of the dramatic flair of Slughorn’s matchmaking scheme.

Sirius’ mind returned back to the great squid.

It wasn’t that there was anything bad about Amortentia. There wasn’t anyone he was expecting to smell. It was just that Sirius Black didn’t do love. He had enough experience with it—or more accurately, enough experience of the lack of it—to know that it was complete and utter bullshit. His parents’ marriage? A mutually beneficial economic affair. A way to preserve their stupid bloodline. The way James felt about Lily? More stupid, immature daydreams. Lily made James weak. Lily had wormed her way into his best mate’s heart and turned him into a lovesick fool. What was love good for anyway, other than making your friends embarrass themselves so you could get a laugh out of it?

“Padfoot, mate, what’s going on up there?” James waved his hand furiously in front of Sirius’ face. It didn’t take a genius to know what was going on “up there” with James—he couldn’t stop stealing glances at Lily, who tried her best to look disinterested in his pursuits as she talked with Marlene and Dorcas, slowly inching away so the two would move closer.

“Nothing, I just-”

“He’s either gonna smell everything or nothing. How many people have you hooked up with this year alone, Padfoot? It’s gotta be at least six, not including the people you’ve snogged.” Peter chucked, who was in a perfectly healthy relationship with a lovely Hufflepuff and couldn’t help but be amused by his friends’ dreary romantic prospects.

“What do you mean by nothing, Wormtail?” Remus shifted with his hands in his pockets, already fed up with the direction of the conversation. (He was not particularly keen on rehashing the details of his and Sirius’ on-and-off affair from last summer.)

“Well, Pads here is a serial non-committer. Is there anything he’s actually attracted to or is he just willing to shag anything with two legs?” James found his comment very funny. Sirius did not find his comment very funny.

Shit, is that really what people think of me? I know I got with that Ravenclaw a few days ago, but it wasn’t like it meant anything… oh fuck, that’s the reason why they’re saying that, isn’t it?

“Aw, Pads, we don’t mean it like that.” James shook Sirius by the shoulder cheerfully. “You’re just too devilishly handsome to be tied down by any one suitor. Am I right, or am I right?” Sirius’ mouth quirked up at that. For James, cocky, self obsessed James, to admit to Sirius’ otherworldly beauty? The day seemed to be looking up after all.

“Ah, Ms. Evans! My favorite Potions student, why don’t you come up and give us a whiff, hm?” Slughorn practically shoved Lily in front of the cauldron; the enthusiasm which he didn’t even bother to hide that permeated throughout the entire ordeal had made it quite obvious to the class that this lesson was no more than a poorly disguised matchmaking opportunity masquerading as academic time. “Don’t be shy now, tell us what you smell.”

Lily was blushing furiously, her cheeks nearly as firey as her hair, as she adamantly refused to look anywhere in James’ direction. James couldn’t help the goofy smile from forming on his face, his posture softening as he let out a content sigh at the sight of all of his affection.

“Sorry, Professor. I’m just- excuse me, the steam is just making me a bit pink.” Lily hesitated, nervous to bring herself any closer to the cauldron. Slughorn did not buy any of it.

“It’s alright, dear. Amortentia doesn’t bite. It will, however, be a very important part of your N.E.W.T.s, so I think it’s best if you’re able to observe closely in class today.” The Potions professor rubbed his hands together with a flourish.

“Right. Okay, I understand, Professor.” Lily eyed the swirling ambrosia-like liquid warily. She took a delicate, nonchalant sniff. “I smell… the sweet rolls at mealtimes,” she let out a nervous giggle, much to James’ delight. “It smells like the air after it rains, really earthy and rich. A little woody.” James looked at Sirius, pointing to himself with raised eyebrows.

“Oi, do I smell like the air after it rains?” James looked hopelessly lovestruck.

“Nah, mate. You smell like the mud.” James’ face immediately fell.

Lily, beginning to move away from the cauldron, suddenly coughed, her face scrunching in surprise. Marlene and Dorcas snickered, having their own suspicions about what might’ve thrown Lily off. “Is that… I think that’s quidditch equipment? And broom polish. God, I hate that stuff. It’s so potent and horrid and-” she coughed again. “Gah, why is the broom polish smell so strong?” She scurried away, mortified, throwing herself into Marlene and Dorcas’ arms as they soothed her obvious distress.

“Moony, I play quidditch! I smell like broom polish, right?” James’s face lit up once more.

“Prongs, I hate to break it to you, but there are quite literally dozens of quidditch players at this school. And besides, Lily seems to abhor the smell of broom polish. Hey, maybe that explains why she seems to hate you so much!” Remus punched James’ arm lightly as the latter settled back into a scowl.

“Mr. Black! You’re up next!” Remus and James give Sirius a small shove forwards as he stumbled towards Slughorn, accompanied by a small whoop! from Peter. Slughorn motioned toward the cauldron, and Sirius tried his best to emulate his normal swagger as he stepped forward. Lily was right. He thought. It really is hot up here…

“I smell… parchment?” Sirius glanced around the classroom to see if there was any parchment nearby that could be interfering with the potion’s properties. There wasn’t; not even Slughorn’s prized lesson plans. He could feel the class’ eyes on him; everyone wondered what Hogwarts’ notorious playboy would smell. Everyone wondered if it would be them. “Um, it smells kind of windy, you know? Like when you’re outside and there’s wind?” James choked down a laugh. Remus looked mildly entertained. Sirius shot them a glare. His mind brought him back to last weekend, sitting in the shade of a courtyard tree as James didn’t did his Charms work, and there was some presence he couldn’t quite forget. It clung to him, like the dirt that refused to wash out of his jeans from that day.

Sirius’ eyebrows furrowed; it looked as if he was deeply concentrated. Lupin, similarly to Marlene and Dorcas, had his own suspicions. He found Sirius’ obliviousness humorous, if he was honest. “I think that’s coffee?” He tried to think of who drank coffee. Not me, I hate that stuff. Father always liked—eugh, don’t think about him right now. Prongs likes his pumpkin juice, Wormtail takes Earl Grey, and Moony likes his tea green… but I swear I saw him drinking coffee that time he was doing his Divination essay! Could it be-?

“It’s strong.” No, it can’t be Moony. He drowns his coffee in cream and sugar; how charicatistically Remus Lupin. It could never be Lily; plus, she’s never picked up a cup of coffee in her life. I’m almost completely sure Marlene and Dorcas are gay…

“It’s almost a little sweet… no, not sweet; it’s acidic. It’s like citrus… Merlin, it smells like oranges.” Sirius looked queasy and a little dazed.

“M’boy, are you alright?” Slughorn rubbed his back. Absolutely not! I am not okay. In fact, I would very much like to step out into the loo and purge my olfactory glands of this experience.

“Yes, Professor. I think, well, I just… I think I just don’t like the smell of oranges?” Sirius’ voice cracked. Holy shit, oranges? Who smells like oranges? Whoever it is, I hate them. Pshh, I’m not attracted to damn oranges. Oranges, of all fruits. They’ve got to be the worst fruit.

Slughorn laughed heartily. “Looks like we’ve got two students with a bit of a conundrum here! Okay, Mr. Black, you’re free to go.” Sirius clambered down to his friends on unsteady legs.

“Y’good there Padfoot?” James really did look concerned.

“Yeah, all good Prongs. Thanks.” James’ grin returned.

“Well, I guess that knocks out the no smell theory!” Sirius whacked him upside the head.

#sirius x you #sirius black #sirius black series #sirius x reader #sirius orion black #james & peter & remus & sirius #the mauraders #the marauders imagine #maurauders era #maurauders series #self interest #reader insert #slytherin x gryffindor #best friend's sister

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robinegreenwood · 2 years

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orphic

｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆　　 [oc x sirius black] ｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆　 C H A P T E R S 0-prologue I-a new beginning II-good friends are hard to find III-dread IV-serenity V-ease into the ordinary VI-the nightmare VII-the broker VIII-normal not normal IX-windy days & worn leather X-womanizer XI-non-blood brothers XII-pick your poison XIII-desolation

oneshots ◈━━━━▷

☆ sirius black ☆ -party -leather jacket ☆ remus lupin ☆ -potions ☆ james potter ☆ -'fall'ing in love

#robin.e.greenwood #fanfiction #sirius black #james potter #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #lily evans #oneshots #series #long reads #romance #fluff #masterlist #x reader #self insert #harry potter #marauders era

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hexxuss · 2 years

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don’t worry guys i got u ;) i insert myself into the wizarding world to ask the questions nobody else got to ask— and of course to annoy the shit out of my comfort characters

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moonstruckme · 7 days

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can i request a reader who can’t admit she’s upset with one the marauders (or all)? like refuses to cry…only if you’re comfortable of course. thank you :)

Thank you for requesting gorgeous!

modern au

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

The smell of smoke coming from the kitchen is the first sign that Sirius has tipped over from resentment into remorse.

“Jesus,” you open the front door on your way into the kitchen, eyes watering, “what are you doing?”

“I was trying to make rice,” he says, fanning desperately over your pressure cooker, “but I think I’ve fucked it.”

“Do you think so?” Any other day you’d both grin at the harmless snark, but now Sirius’ expression pinches and you think your own must look the same, your tone more biting than you meant for it to be. “It’s fine, it’ll be fine once it airs out. Help me with the windows?”

Sirius acts like it’s a competition, opening three windows before you’ve finished two and looking at you like he’s expecting a pat on the head for it. You try to give him a smile, and his expression clouds over.

“Sorry,” he says, voice not quite cool but oddly remote, “the idea was to surprise you with dinner, and I’ve broken your rice thingy instead.”

“It’s not broken,” you reassure him. “I’m sure it’ll be fine once I clean it out. Why were you trying to make dinner?”

Sirius grimaces. It’s a full body motion, his eyebrows hooking in the middle while the muscles in his forearms shift uncomfortably and his shoulders migrate upward. “Sort of a shitty attempt at an olive branch, I guess.”

Some of the smoke has cleared, and you brave the kitchen. “I don’t need an olive branch,” you say. “If you say we’re good, we’re good.”

“Don’t do that.” He follows you into the kitchen. “I can tell you’re upset, just because—” Sirius hisses when you take the bowl out of the pressure cooker, transferring it swiftly to the sink “—fuck, baby, don’t burn yourself. Let me take care of that later.”

“I’d rather handle it now,” you say, turning on the faucet. “I’m just letting it soak anyway.”

“I’m trying to handle this.” Sturdy hands wrap around your shoulders, turning you to face your boyfriend. He looks at you steadily. “Don’t pretend you’re not angry with me, because I know that you are.”

A spark of annoyance tingles up your spine as you shrug, reaching behind you to turn off the faucet. “I’m not.”

“Can you stop trying to make me feel like an idiot? I know you. You’ve been all stiff since last night.”

“You were angry last night. Not me.”

“Yeah, well it seems to have caught on.”

You turn away from him and back towards the sink, swishing your hand in the cold water of the bowl to dislodge the charred rice sticking to the bottom. You don’t know where Sirius gets off, acting like you’re holding a grudge when he’s the one who shouted at you last night. Your phone had died while you were out with friends. That was all that had happened. You didn’t think anything of it, because Sirius, the only person who would really worry about not being able to reach you, knew you were out and that you’d be home late.

But when you had gotten home, he’d been furious. Gone on and on about how he’d been trying to get a response from you all night, and how dangerous it was to get drunk when you couldn’t call anyone (nevermind that you’d been with your friends), and how freaked out he’d been. He wouldn’t listen to you. He’d only wanted to yell and rage, and make you sit in your heels on the couch while he did it. He’d even seemed like he might be tearing up a couple of times. And you hated to think of him being scared for you, but since when was it your responsibility to answer every time he called? He knew you were with your friends. You hadn’t asked him to check in on you.

He’d gone to bed still fuming and you’d stayed on the couch rather than try to sleep in a hostile bed. Now, inexplicably, his tune seems to have changed.

“So,” Sirius sighs, “this is you not mad, huh?”

“Yup.” You scrub at the bowl with your fingernails.

“I just want a chance to apologize.”

“You can if it’ll make you feel better, but I don’t need it.”

“Why can’t you just admit it?”

“Because I’m not the one who gets pissy about stupid things.” You dislodge a chunk of rice and your hand slips across the bowl, splashing water onto your shirt. “That’s you.”

There’s a second of dense, oppressive silence. When Sirius breaches it, you can hear the smirk in his voice. “There’s my girl. Tell me about the stupid things I got pissy about, would you?”

“It’s nothing.”

“No, it’s not. It wasn’t nothing to me, and clearly it wasn’t to you either. Go on, doll.”

“I don’t want to argue with you.”

“Sure you do.”

“Why do you want to fight so bad?”

“Because,” Sirius says, and you can hear him moving behind you, can all but see him leaning against the counter, the picture of insouciance, “I think you need to get it out of your system.”

You scrub harder at the bowl. Blackened bits of rice float to the top of the water. “Like you do?”

A pause. His voice softens. “It’s not always a good thing. I shouldn’t have shouted at you, last night.” Something in your chest tightens painfully at this new gentle tone. “I’m sorry. I let my temper get the better of me. I was just worried about you.”

“I don’t think that’s my fault,” you say, managing to sound mostly normal. You dump out the contents of the bowl, filling it again with warmer water. “My phone was dead, and I was with my friends. I didn’t need you to worry about me.”

“I just do, when I know you’ve all been drinking, and I can’t talk to you to know you’re okay…” Sirius takes in a breath, breaking your heart with how it sounds like he’s trying to steady himself. “But you’re right, okay? It wasn’t fair.”

“I didn’t know I was coming home to be shouted at.” This time, your voice betrays you, a pitchiness that makes you go quiet fast. You hear Sirius move.

“Sweetheart?” he asks softly. There’s a touch at your elbow. “I’m sorry, baby, please look at me.”

You don’t want to, but you don’t want your embarrassment interpreted as ire. You take a quiet breath before pivoting from the sink. Sirius’ eyes are waiting, sad and fretful as they probe at yours.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, impossibly quieter, and runs his fingers from your elbow up the back of your arm. “It wasn’t your fault, I wasn’t being fair. I shouldn’t have shouted at you.”

You press your lips together, hard. His eyebrows hook up in the middle.

“You can cry, sweet thing. It’s okay.” You shake your head mutely, blinking, and Sirius makes a terribly lovely cooing sound, snaking an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest. You hug him back as the first hot tear rolls down your cheek. “Oh, sweetheart. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” Your shoulders jump with a stilted, poorly repressed sob, his grip on you tightening. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ve got you, baby. My temper tantrum really did a number on you, huh?”

You laugh wetly. “Guess so,” you squeak. “Sorry.”

“If you apologize for this, I may shout at you again,” he warns fondly. “You haven’t done anything wrong, lovely girl. Just let it out, if you need to.”

You know that’s not easy for Sirius to say. Know he’s likely close to tears himself, from how agitated seeing other people cry makes him. You appreciate the offer.

You fall into a silence less heavy than any that’s suffocated your home since last night, broken up only by the steady, quiet thumping of Sirius patting your back and the intermittent smooching sounds as he kisses your shoulder or your cheek or the side of your neck. You stand still in your smoky kitchen, wetting your boyfriend’s shoulder with tears and snot, and he lets you.

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ellecdc · 1 month

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can i request a poly!marauders where the reader just tends to wonder off, like she’s suspended to be in class but she just talking to one of the portraits or just outside staring at the sky and sometimes james and/or sirius follow her so remus has to round them up

so stinkin' cute - thanks for your request lovie!

~please note: my requests are currently closed as I work through some of my older requests~

poly!marauders x fem whimsical!reader

“I don’t mean to alarm you boys,” Marlene started, not looking at all concerned about alarming them in the slightest. “But I think you might be missing a member of your group.”

Sirius and James looked to each other in horror as Remus let out an exasperated sigh.

“Where is she?” Remus asked impatiently.

“I swear she was just behind me...” James admitted, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

“She cannot miss lunch, she hardly sat down long enough for breakfast this morning.” Remus commented mostly to himself as he headed back the way he came, hoping to quickly find wherever you’d wandered off to.

Although your whimsy and excitement in life was one of the things the boys most admired about you, it did make Remus worry from time to time that you’d forget to look after yourself.

It shouldn’t be that big of a deal, however, seeing as you had three boyfriends here to help you out on that end. Though, it didn’t speak very highly of them when they kept losing you.

There were very few moments in his life he was particularly grateful for his lycanthropy, but this was perhaps one of them.

He could smell you before he heard you, and he heard you before he saw you.

He rounded a corner which was disturbingly far from the Great Hall, meaning they’d lost you quite some time ago, and saw you conversing with a portrait of the Fat Friar.

“From what I’ve learned both in life and in death, forgiveness is not only for the other person, but also for yourself.” The Fat Friar said to you. Remus paused in his steps to enjoy the uninhibited smile that graced your face.

“Have you ever met someone unworthy of forgiveness, Friar?” You asked, your serene voice drifting down the hallway and gracing Remus’ ears.

“Not in my nearly 1000 years.” He answered.

Your smile grew impossibly wider at that. “Me either.”

Remus couldn’t take it anymore, he resumed his trek towards you, and though he’d been going for stern, he knew his face looked impossibly lovesick as you turned your beaming smile onto him.

“Hi Rem.” You called softly, turning away from the portrait and towards your boyfriend.

“We thought we lost you, dovey.” He reprimanded as he reached for your face, resting one hand on either cheek and tilting your face up towards him.

“I’m never very far.” You answered. Remus was torn between wanting to roll his eyes fondly and thanking you for ensuring that this was true.

“Any amount of space is too far, my love.” He said instead, placing a lingering kiss to your forehead. Your eyes closed and you let out a pleased hum.

“Why’d you wander off, dove?” He asked as he pulled back, keeping your face secured in his hands and rubbing your cheekbones with his thumbs.

“I saw a dedalian key fly by, but as I was following it, I saw the portrait of Ferdinand Octavius Pratt who was very upset because the Fat Friar’s ghost insisted that he let go of old grudges. So, I figured I’d ask the Friar his side of the story. And, well, here we are.” You finished, smiling up at him like having him find you here had been your master plan all along.

“Here we are.” He murmured back, wondering how on earth he and his boyfriends managed to land something as impossibly sweet as you.

Speaking of said boyfriends, Remus’ thoughts were interrupted by the sound of two heavy footfalls as the sods came running up to the two of you.

“There you are dollface! We were worried sick.” Sirius proclaimed as he all but shoved Remus out of the way and took his place, holding your face in his hands and peppering your head with kisses.

You giggled and pulled back slightly, which Sirius allowed but kept you safe within his grasp.

“You needn’t worry, Sirius. I was in wonderful company.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow and Remus translated for him.

“She was busy talking to the Fat Friar when I found her.”

Sirius nodded in understanding before he narrowed his eyes at you. “He wasn’t making moves on you, was he?”

You laughed as if Sirius had made some very funny joke, and Remus laughed along with you even though he could tell Sirius wasn’t entirely convinced.

“I’m sorry we lost you, angel.” James said somewhat meekly. Remus knew though that he was mostly apologizing to Remus and less to you.

“That’s quite alright Jamie.” You assured him. “I would have found you later.”

Some tension left James’ shoulders as he smiled at you, sharing a shy glance with Remus before continuing. “You didn’t eat much for breakfast since you were so excited about the Grindylow’s hatching, so...” He said as he pulled out a tote bag from behind his back. “Pads and I ran to the kitchens and packed a picnic. Would you like to head down to the Black Lake now?”

If Remus’ heart grew two sizes at the sentiment, yours must have grown three.

“Oh, Jamie!” You nearly squealed, pulling him into a hug that he eagerly reciprocated.

“I’d love that! Thank you!” You cheered, stepping back towards Sirius who quickly hooked your arm in his – a guarantee that he wouldn’t lose you this time.

“After you then, m’lady.” Sirius said seductively with a wink, causing you to giggle again as the two of you turned and headed towards the school grounds.

Remus quickly pulled James up against his side and pressed a kiss into his hair.

“You’re such a sweet boy, James Potter.” He murmured, feeling the fondness ooze right out of his being for this man he somehow got to call his.

“Yeah?” James asked, sending Remus a beaming smile.

Remus smiled and accepted a searing kiss from the quidditch chaser.

James let out a pleased sigh as he pulled out of the kiss and walked in step with Remus, looking ahead to watch you and Sirius nearly skip down the hall. It was incredibly lighthearted, though Remus noticed Sirius possessively pull you into his side as you two walked past the ghost of the Fat Friar who exchanged nothing more than a polite head nod with you.

“We’re so lucky.” James commented.

Remus couldn’t help but agree.

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360iris · 1 year

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So don’t run (they’re not so tough)

Pairings: James Potter x Lily Potter, Sirius Black x Remus Lupin, Grant Chapman (created for the fanfic: ATYD by MsKingBean89 on AO3) x OC/Reader Insertable Character + Remus, Eventual Poly!Marauders x OC

Series Status: Ongoing, as of 11.05.22

Play: “Soft” by Vacations, “Bloom Later” by Jesse & “Unf*cktheworld” by Angel Olsen

Summary: Should one fight, or flee? Dig their toes into the sand and risk being pummeled further into the grainy bits, or hide away to survive another day? Sparing yourself the battle of will and chance to hope leads you to darker roads yet. Though, our paths always lead us somewhere purposefully; and there may be more chances along the way to show our true strengths- love, perseverance and forgiveness. Word count: 8.6k

Warnings: Reader’s discretion is advised, please read the warnings carefully. Profanity, she/her pronouns primarily used for OC/Reader Insertable Character, minor character illness, mention of minor character cancer diagnosis, attempted use of lethal weapon, deteriorating mental health, mentions of EDs/insomnia, allusion to a laced drink, a (rather deserving) loss of fingers and broken bone to a minor character, mentions of minor character deaths, deep-dive into grief, loss, depression and death.

hp masterlist / bts masterlist / ao3 link

Growing up is an odd, peculiar and loathsome thing to endure for those who aged and seemed to be instantaneously saddled with only the most unfortunate circumstances by mere chance and the handling of cards.

While those you knew from ages eleven to eighteen and onward graduated from Hogwarts during the Summer of ‘77, eager to move on to the next exciting prospects of starting careers, feeling out long term relationships and obtaining residences of their own- your immediate future seemed to be met with only the following:

An elderly, widower father who could no longer work from having previously fallen ill, the immediate necessity to get a high paying job so that you could promptly and efficiently take care of the household affairs- and ultimately no one from whom you could even remotely relate to in regard to your new found personal experiences.

Your dads were never well off by any means, having been ordinary muggles who lived nearly paycheck to paycheck in order to make ends meet as far as bills and your needed school supplies were concerned. Both having either no surviving or tolerating relations resulted in you being a generally isolated trio. So when your father who you lovingly coined as, Da, passed away from stage four lung cancer, he left behind only yourself and your despondent, Pa. Who, though tried as he might, was only the shell of his former self after his husband passed on to the next life during your fifth year.

Who, amongst your immediate friend group, could both lend a kind ear and offer more than a generic word of pity before inevitably going back to the complicated algebra they knew as their own lives? Were any of them yet capable of understanding and grasping the spider web-like nuances of grief, that were a direct result of the absence of a parent who could no longer support or witness the growth of their child who gradually became accustomed to the bitter truth of maturity and adulthood?

Your peers, who you’d wholly loved and trusted, in the grand scheme of overall life experiences were but babes, blessed with near decades to slowly learn how to walk. You, as fate would have it, had been cruelly tossed amidst the brutal and relentless churning cogs of life, left to either will your limbs to cooperate and deftly coordinate your steps or risk being snagged, broken and crushed by the reality of your circumstances.

James and Sirius came from money and pureblood status, and while Lily and Remus were significantly less endowed, the pair were never left wanting for any of the simple pleasures of life. Their parents had health and/or enough connections to allow their kids to remain as such for as long as they needed. James with his trust fund and Sirius with the fortune passed down to him by his uncle- each making sure their respective partners continued to want for nothing, every need satiated.

Try as you might over the passing months following graduation, no matter how strong your feelings of respect, love and general fondness were for the four, nothing could keep the vines of envy at bay as time went on and your tower of responsibilities and expectations grew.

It was hard to see what good group lunch dates, bar hopping tours across Central London and indulgent sleepovers would do when you had an entire life depending on how firm you stood alongside your duties.

Eventually weekly hangouts were reduced to semi-weekly dinners, then to semi-monthly meetups until the only updates, or lack thereof, they received of you was through the dispirited inquiries issued amongst themselves in search of who had heard even a solitary word from you in the matter of weeks.

This decay of confidence festered for nearly two years and two months in total, happening gradually and then engulfing the friendship all together.

—

October 23rd, 1979

LILY

It was a wonder how quickly time could pass. Though for Lily, she found her care never waned due to distance or the absence of communication between you- who had been the beloved recipient for the most trivial, to the most intimate secrets of her soul. You, who she trusted with the sweetest of truths during her waking hours, and sometimes even in her dreams.

Though they all understood to a certain degree that you were entitled to live how you saw fit, she missed her best friend.

She missed having you assist her in the kitchen, admiring the way you’d jolt your head back when you were overcome with laughter. Or the moments when the boys would venture in to covet snacks, only to find the two of you whispering and giggling quietly amongst yourselves. Lily with her cheek squished and chin hooked over your left shoulder, her arms interlocked around your waist as she dotingly studied your features with great care.

So as she lay awake in the pitch black, staring into the void with only the noise of James’ snoring as an accompaniment to her own thoughts, she resolved she’d get her friend back in whatever little way she could.

The two of you would be able to figure it out, come to some sort of agreement so that you would at least come home more regularly. And even if you weren’t initially enthusiastic to do so, maybe you’d do it for her because you’d realize how badly she needed it.

Closing her eyes and turning onto her side, she lulls herself to sleep with the hope that you’d listen once she told you how much she missed you.

Once she revealed that she knew she was three weeks pregnant.

—

October 27th, 1979

LILY

On the fourth consecutive day of calling your landline, the call finally goes through.

“Hello?” Lily eagerly greets, holding the phone to her ear with both hands and shifting her weight from one side to the other. She found herself to be too flurried to even think about sitting, she’d be unable to remain still. “Sorry to call out of the blue like this, I hope I’m not keeping you from anything.”

“May I ask whom I’m speaking with?” Is the response given and it’s only then that Lily realizes it isn’t your voice on the other line.

“Hello? Are you still there? Do you have the wrong number perchance?” The young woman on the other side inquires when Lily doesn’t respond immediately, finding her tongue stuck as she momentarily sits frozen in her disappointment.

“Um, I apologize.” Lily finally speaks up, shaking herself from her dumb stupor. “This is the Corbyn household, is it not?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The girl answers politely.

“My name is Lily Evans, uh- Potter. Lily Potter, I’m a childhood friend of Miss Corbyn’s. Is she available to talk currently?”

“Miss Corbyn no longer resides in this residence, ma’am.” The girl calmly informs her and Lily is nearing shell shocked.

“For how long?” Lily quickly inquires, “If you don’t mind me asking of course, how long has she been gone?”

“No more than about three months give or take now, I suppose.” To say she was amazed would be an understatement, three months and she’d been none the wiser.

“Excuse my manners, I never asked your name. Is her father home then?”

“My name’s Grace, ma’am. Mr. Corbyn was moved to a hospice center a year ago, come this December. I’m just a caretaker Miss Corbyn hired to mind the ‘ouse in their absence ‘nd give it a good washing every two weeks or so.”

“Would it be possible for you to give me her new residence line?” Lily’s voice is soft, intimate, as she speaks into the receiver, bordering sorrowful as she remembers all the occasions she’d spent over at their house growing up; birthday parties and New Year’s Day dinners.

There were multiple summer vacations when your dads would take the kids to Muggle ice cream parlors and malls where they’d insist on buying everyone one item of their choice, even when their parents had sent them along with an allowance for the day.

Their house was endlessly blooming and overflowing with love and they were never stingy with it. Now it stood empty, save a lone caretaker. It’s denizens numbering one long since passed, one whose ear extended towards the veil and the last… where? Alone? Self isolating from all those who once knew her happy, safe and content?

“I’m sorry ma’am but I’m not at liberty to give that out. However I can take a message, if you’d like? I could pass it on to Miss Corbyn when I see her next.” She offers, sounding like she was ready to get off the phone.

“Oh. I see. Um, no thank you. There’s no need to trouble yourself with it.” Lily answers quietly. “Thank you again.”

“No problem, ma’am. Take care.” And the call ends.

Sinking into the nook they fashioned for the landline, Lily inwardly muses that getting in contact with you is easier said than done.

—

October 27th, 1979

SIRIUS

All things considered, it was warm for a late October’s day in West England, where James and Lily had aptly settled down in pursuit of building a life together.

He’d uprooted her from the muggle-induced smoke and smog filled skies she’d grown used to being choked by during her girlhood and nicely planted her close enough for James’ folks to pay a visit, without prompting too much of a scene from their aging bodies.

It was warm enough that even James, who nowadays was hellbent on being the most perfect, shining example there ever was of a husband and soon-to-be father, could not resist Sirius’ seductive remarks of how much of a shame it’d be to miss out on such an ideal day to give his flying bike a spin.

James’ will was remarkable however, the man suffering a near two and half hours of Sirius’ sighs of wonder and barrage of wistful glances thrown towards the nearest windows before he caved.

“We’ll only be gone for half an hour, love. Down to Stowell for a quick drink and back before you even know it.” James had wholeheartedly promised Lily as she leaned smugly against the kitchen counter while an odd assortment of kitchen tools gradually toiled away behind her lean form.

With the way knives diced potatoes into neat cubes, peelers reduced apple skins to model curling coils and whisks diligently stirred in their respective mixing bowls- the common person would think perhaps some grand holiday had snuck up and caught them unawares. However, this rather stately preparation of dishes and desserts could be witnessed every Thursday afternoon at either The Potter’s residence or the boys’ flat in Birmingham.

The four had promised to meet at least once a week to enjoy each other’s company as they matured. Partying until they were too ill to do much the following morning was phased out for pleasant conversations over meals, VHS movie nights and semi-tipsy sleepovers.

“I wouldn’t make promises Sirius doesn’t intend to keep.” She commented playfully, her eyes squinted at Sirius over James’ shoulder as her husband leaned downwards to pepper her cheeks with kisses. “What will cause the hour and a half delay this time around, Black? Do you know? Did you prepare a list on your way over?”

“Tell me, which do you prefer? A flock of migrating brent geese blown off course? Or muggle policemen in dire pursuit to dish out hot speeding tickets?” He asked, shrugging on the worn leather jacket he’d made a wardrobe staple a few months back.

“Oh! Whatever you do, your godchild and I would rather we don't have a repeat of The Incident of ‘77!” Lily ordered out with a laugh and James’ endearing smile widened as he stared adoringly at her face tracing her features, his arms cradling her waist with the utmost gentleness. “Remus and I will have you both spending the night in confinement if you get apprehended for refusal to cooperate!”

“Duly noted.” Sirius nodded, looking intentionally grave as he slipped off one of the two hair ties he keeps on his wrist to tie up his hair, allowing a few onyx tendrils to frame his face.

James could be seen knelt on the tiled flooring, cooing out promises to definitely not get arrested to Lily’s stomach. With a roll of his eyes, Sirius grabs the collar of his shirt like one would scruff a cat and pulls him towards the door with a sigh. “The wain’s the size of a vanilla bean seed right now, Prongs. Doesn’t even have the ears to hear you in its current state.”

“And how do you know that?” Was the response heard right as the door closed and Lily notes it was half past one when they’d departed.

By the time they had returned, all big smiles and smelling of fresh fog and unfallen rain from passing through clouds to remain out of immediate view, it was a quarter past three. Dinner wouldn’t be ready until seven and Remus wasn’t to be expected before five. There was still ample time to both relax and busy themselves before their scheduled carousing.

Their joviality falters when they reenter to find Lily sitting in the landline nook, with her eyes cast up at the ceiling as she tries and fails to hold back tears of frustration.

“We’re well past the time we gave but I made sure to get him back just in time for tea, Evans.” Sirius offers as James rushes to her side, scooping her hands up into his own.

“I’m here now, love. I’m sorry we took so long.” James apologizes softly, looking up at her with eyes wide with guilt. “We should’ve called.” He adds but she shakes her head frantically, gasping in a breath before speaking.

“No! You’re fine! It’s not you.” She finally answers, wringing one of her hands free to dab at her splotchy cheeks. James’ brows quickly furrow in confusion as he waits for her to regain composure.

Sirius’ shoulder collides with a wall, eyes dark as he asks what he’s afraid to hear the answer to. “Is, Is it Moony?” His body relaxes strangely and then tenses again when she shakes her head, no.

“For the last few days, I’ve been calling to give her the news.” Lily begins and neither men feel the need to ask who it is exactly she’s referring to.

To Sirius, there’s only one person who decided to drop off the face of the earth with only a handful of poorly crafted excuses and a lifetime's worth of voice messages left unanswered.

“Today the call finally went through and I was so… excited to hear her voice. I couldn’t even bring myself to sit. But it wasn’t her.” A few more tears roll down her face and James is wiping them away before she can even think to. “It was the house caretaker. Said that her dad’s been in hospice for almost a year, and she moved out three months ago. Couldn't get her new address or number.”

James is quiet and still, his face perfectly unresponsive as he brings Lily’s hands into his own again. The only movement being produced from him are the circles his thumbs rub soothingly into her skin. He’s the very picture of composure.

Sirius, on the other hand, is a mass of multiple moving parts. His arms don’t know what to do with themselves and his mouth is in a state of morphing into a variety of shapes as he thinks of so much he wants to say, but can’t even begin to start.

At the end of it all, he resolves to turn around. Simply walking towards the front door and allowing it to loudly slam shut behind him.

Before long James is outside, trailing behind him. “Sirius.” He calls, his voice is ever so composed and Sirius bitterly bets he isn’t a shade past normal or a single hair out of place.

Sirius neither stops walking nor answers, making his way to his bike, instead busying himself with attempting to get his goggles to cooperate.

“Sirius!” James tries again and yet again is ignored. Resorting to snatching the motorcycle keys from the outside pocket of Sirius’ jacket before he can even begin to fly off.

Unable to leave but unwilling to be the first to speak, Sirius slumps forward on his bike, his head falling into his hands as he breathes raggedly.

“You can be upset. I’m not telling you, you aren’t allowed to be, but I’m not allowing you to leave like this.” James says firmly, palming the keys and keeping them wrenched in the center of his grasp.

“Give me the keys, James.” Sirius finally demands, voice angry and low.

“No.” James answers, resolute in his decision. “Not like this. Not right now.”

“Monty is sick.” Sirius whispers to the metal of his bike, his hands still cradling his head as the reality of the situation settles in and his emotions swell. Tears rise to his eyes as he speaks the words. “Monty is SICK! If he’s in a hospice, then he’s dying too! And she, she what? Thinks that information is hers alone to hoard? Hers alone to bear?”

“She’s undoubtedly hurting. Probably feels like no one could understand.” James answers with his closest guess, causing Sirius to huff humorlessly.

“He and Silas raised me too. Gave me more than my own fucking parents ever did. So if she thinks I’m going to sit by idly while he-“ Sirius rants only to be interrupted by James and his rationality again.

“So you’re going to go where? Do what, exactly?”

“Look! Just because you could care less about the fact that she just up and decided one day to say ‘you know what? fuck you’ and abandon us, doesn’t mean you get to brandish your indifference against me!” Sirius bellows from the core of his being, whipping his head up to finally look James in the face, only to be promptly rendered speechless.

James is standing still with his head held high and his shoulders squared. Even the voice he uses is uniform and decisive, yet his eyes. Sirius finds that his eyes are overshadowed and blazing with hardy emotion as tears dampen his cheeks.

James in fact was not indifferent, nor was he detached. He was thoroughly hurt, and utterly pissed.

“You think I am unmoved by her wanton neglect? I am not. You think I am cool, and callous? I am not. She was my friend too.” James speaks steadily, mindfully, as though if he did not take care to stress and enunciate every word he would be swept up by his own internal whirlpool. “And she left me all the same.”

“But, Sirius.” James sighs, reaching his empty hand out to grasp his friend’s shoulder as though he were suddenly saddled with a great weight. “If Lily is suffering even a fraction of what I am, then I am certain I need to be strong, for her. If not just for myself. Which is why I am not allowing myself to be cast astray.”

Looking away, Sirius rubs his eyes. Feeling tired, considerably petty, and begrudgingly he wonders when James got to be so darn cool. Briefly, he thinks perhaps that’s what being married does to a man, but quickly scraps the notion. No, even at his most immature, James Potter had always held this unique quality to stand firm while others waded in uncertainty.

“What do you recommend we do then, Obi Wan Kenobi?” Sirius dryly jokes, even though there’s a pit in his chest that doesn’t want to laugh, smile, or tolerate any sort of frivolity.

“There’s a right and a wrong way to approach this.” James begins mapping out the best possible course of action as he once would have as the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain. “We can’t blindside her by suddenly showing up to her house and then realistically expect her to want to play any part in our lives. Lily wants her support, especially with the pregnancy, so we really need to handle this with care.”

“Right.” Sirius scoffs, dismounting his bike and taking his hair down so that he could massage his scalp. “So the objective is to reopen communication with someone who wants nothing to do with us, and we have to figure out a way to do that without pissing them off. You might as well ask me to open a door with both of my hands tied behind my back.”

“Okay, admittedly there is a very wide margin for potential error.” James nods, his mouth pressed into a fine line as his eyes narrow and blink rapidly.

“So your suggestion is, what, exactly?” Sirius asks, leaning back against his bike with his ankles crossed and arms folded.

“We write a letter?” James proposes with his eyebrows raised and his eyes portraying that he’s every bit of the word clueless.

“You’ll write the letter.” Sirius corrects, cocking his head forward as though to remind James who exactly he’s asking to be tactful and precise.

“Yeah. No, you’re right. I’ll, I’ll write the letter.”

—

October 27th, 1979

YOU

Over the years, you’d taken to living amongst muggles rather easily, adapting what habits were required of you to appear as normal and unassuming as possible. Using magic only within the confines of your home and taking great care not to forgo your wand all together, but to keep it concealed in case of any immediate need.

All things considered, you’d done well for yourself, having racked up a total of zero Muggle witch hunts during your last two years and two months attempting to disguise yourself as normal, when you were anything but.

Though, as a gray and white owl pecks at your office window with a white envelope tucked in between its beak, with the handwriting you’d spent years deciphering during your girlhood scrawled across the front, just as you’re closing the bookshop for the night- you inwardly muse to yourself that all good streaks must in fact be broken in order for life to shake itself up again.

“Oh! Neat, more wizard mail. What do you reckon the occasion is this time?” Grant asks with a grin, showcasing his infuriatingly endearing wonky canine tooth. His dark blonde brows arch upwards as he sets the recent issue of National Geographic aside, in favor of this new outlet of entertainment.

“It’s not The Ministry this time.” You begrudgingly note, standing from your desk and moving towards the glass. “Help me with this fucking window, will you?”

“Can do.” He answers jovially, following closely behind, only to do most of the lifting himself. The rusty old latches give way as you both force it to open with brute force alone. Grant leans against the windowsill, thoroughly amused as the bird slips underneath the opening the two of you made for it.

The creature curiously rotates its head as you don’t accept the letter right away, watching instead as you move to retrieve a singular banana slice from the bowl of fruit you’d been only intermittently nibbling on, much to Grant’s irritation. Only once sufficient payment was in hand did you interchange the treat for the letter.

“Have a rest, Roux.” You softly say to the owl, your face unchanging as it nuzzles its feathery cheek into your bent knuckles, and Grant doesn’t comment on the way the bird seems to happily chirp in the familiarity of your presence.

Neither does he crowd in behind you, resting his face up against your own as he nosily reads the contents and purposefully ignores the way you grumble, as though you were actually bothered by the intrusion and not wholly comforted by the effortlessness of the gesture alone.

This time he gives you your space, and a part of you wishes he didn’t, as you nervously finger the red wax sealed envelope. Sure, it was only James by the look of it, but you hadn’t spoken to him in precisely a year, and now suddenly there’s a letter delivered with your name inscribed on it, in his handwriting.

Deciding it would be better to rip the bandaid off in one fell swoop so as to not prolong your internal worrying, you deftly retrieve the slip of paper encased inside. The message it held was short and to the point.

* *

Y/n,

Would’ve liked the first words I spoke to you in almost a year to have been in person, but this will have to suffice for now. Would you be willing to speak to me, or any of us, sometime soon?

Lils tried to call your landline earlier today, but ended up reaching the house caretaker instead. I’m really sorry to hear about Monty’s condition. Please reply, lovebug.

Yours in mischief,

and in good,

James.

P.s. I’m certain Roux is positively thrumming with excitement to see you, he always tends to be a little bit needy when he hasn’t seen you in a while. Give him plenty of good scratches for your old pal Potter, will you?

* *

And for a moment, you think he’s a jerk, just for being sweet, for taking the high road when you waxed cruel in the manner in which you broke all contact. Then you feel sad, and guilty, and you know it’s rightfully so. This was something to be repentant for.

Sinking into your chair, your eyes shine glossy as you make eye contact with Grant, who always tended to just know. “Bad decisions have a way of sticking to us huh?”

“As reminders for when the time comes to do what’s right.” He answers, with the slightest of smiles.

—

December 7th, 1977

5 months and 17 days after Graduation,

1 month and 9 days post Self-Isolating

YOU

The five months you spent juggling two Muggle jobs, at one point even managing to shortly maintain a third, based in the customer service industry facilitated the discovery of new borders of misery for you. The hours were long, the pay was lacking and you were convinced most people became possessed by the spirit of narcissism the second they stepped foot into shops of any kind.

In the month since you’d purposefully shut down all avenues of communication between yourself and the group, and by proximity, the entirety of The Wizarding community- you’d diminished to something of a self-imposed recluse.

A grouchy, self-loathing hedge witch who busied yourself with skulking about your lonesome dwelling. Spending hours listening to muggle music stations and keeping your nose deep in books, both fictional and educational. Another large portion of your downtime was geared towards advancing your proclivity for mixing potions, elixirs and crafting tonics.

You checked in on your father, who lived in the main house directly next to your small outbuilding, routinely in order to advise his nurse and the house caretaker; outside of which, you were rarely seen, spoken to or generally thought of by anyone in your immediate vicinity. And for a while you genuinely preferred it that way.

There was no longer anyone for you to sell yourself to, in a sense. No appearances to upkeep, lies of contentment to maintain or people to force yourself to smile at. At work, though no one flat out admitted it, you were merely just another body used to push boxes and restock shelves. It didn’t matter if you were happy or slept and ate enough, just so long as you showed up on time and stayed out of any trouble that could place you under close scrutiny.

But at the five month mark, you realized you’d truly left yourself no one. By then, self pity, discontentment and loneliness regained residency in your back pocket yet again and you were spurred to find new avenues to keep yourself occupied.

You eventually took to walking about town, however not before fortifying yourself with a selfcrafted shield charm; the effect resulting in all potential onlooker’s eyes to quite literally roll off of you, even if they’d been staring right at the spot where you were standing. It allowed you to visit various shops without any unwarranted social interactions, for a total of two hours before you’d have to recast it.

Today was yet another walking event, you studied people and buildings alike. Often wondering what their stories were, what they ate, what times they awoke and went to bed, if they ever felt alone in crowds or laid in bed crying into the bleeding black corners when it was time to go to bed too.

Today however, you were drawn to a building that is all brown and red brick, with a black storefront frame. The name on the front read, Pearlescent Moon Books.

It was the bookshop Silas opened and ran with one of his mates from college, Racburter. Until Silas’ death in 1975, when said ‘mate’ decided he was no longer interested in sharing the business, and proceeded to withhold all of the shop’s future earnings from Monty and yourself.

Overwhelmed with Silas’ funeral costs, his own grief and a fifteen year old child to continue to raise on his own, Monty was forced to cut his losses while he was ahead. He couldn’t afford to retain a lawyer or find time outside of work to build a case. The icing on the cake was that Silas left no last will or testament, and they were never officially married to begin with.

Stepping across the same red carpet, through the aisles of darkened and aged wooden shelves filled with books of different genres, you think back on your childhood.

There were still tiny traces of you as a toddler, growing up within the space; marker lines messily stained into corners of the carpeting or remnants of glue and glitter smacked onto a random wall, now mostly hidden behind a shelf. You briefly wondered if Racburter had either been too cheap, or a pinch too sentimental to conceal all traces of the past, when you hear someone speaking nearby as though they were addressing you.

Turning around, you’re met with an almost familiar visage. Racburter, but instead of the towering, proud and smirking figure you’d last seen, he too had diminished.

He’d lost some height with the way his spine now slouched forward as his knobby knuckles clenched a simple walking stick. In place of a once golden complexion and high cheekbones, was now bordering a sallow and translucently pale sheet of skin, showcasing all the red and blue veins it held underneath it; purply red lines intermingled with the rest.

A once full head of thick, curly hair, matching the exact likeness of charcoal, was replaced with a patch of scalp apparent at the crown of his head. His eyes had sunken, undereyes weighed down with purple rolls. His lips shriveled and overly pink. He looked like an odd shadow of a human for a man of only thirty-eight years.

“Mr. Racburter.” You acknowledged the older man with a curt nod of your head.

“You’re his girl.” He states plainly and it isn’t a question, his voice blunt around the edges. “It’s been two years and you’ve grown some, but I still recognize you all the same. Even with the dark circles under your eyes and the dyed hair.”

“You know,” He continues. “I can still recall the days he’d bring you in with him, before he met your father of course. You were only three years old but always so insistent he dressed you up in the most pastel little dresses.

“He’d buy you soft serve ice cream on the cone, and you’d beg and beg until either of us propped you up onto the counter, right next to the cash register while we rang up books. `So I can say hello to all the pretty ladies’ you’d say most days. And that would give him and I more than a good chuckle at the time.” He recounts, and you’re gnawing your bottom lip at the recollection, trying not to tear up.

You remembered those times well, if not for the ice cream you highly anticipated, then for all the moments when the local business women would bring their orders up to the cash wrap and shower you in compliments.

You only give him a nod but he appears to be preoccupied with other thoughts as his face borders serious.

“I know I don’t look the same as I once did either.” He confesses soberly. “I used to be strong, handsome. A right bastard, but charming enough to get away with it.”

“What I did to your father by sullying his memory, and my promise to him.” He inhales deeply from his nose, before continuing. “I swore to him before he passed, that he could go with no regrets, because I’d, I’d look out for you and Monty. I didn’t hold true to that, and as you can see, it’s the one thing I couldn’t get away with.”

“It’s only been two years but the time has crawled at a snail’s pace for me. I’ve withered. And I, I’m going to die very soon. I know it, I can feel it.” He stresses the final admittance by placing a clawing hand over his chest. If you looked into his eyes, you could see that he was tired, not only physically but mentally, emotionally.

You inwardly remarked that he had the look of someone who had given up fighting. And you briefly pondered if perhaps you looked worn and fatigued around the edges too, if that was why you insisted on hiding yourself whenever you ventured out, because you didn’t want anyone else to know that you were quietly waiting to see your Da again.

Especially since your Pa only seemed to wane by the day, unable to talk or stay awake most of the time, biding the months until he was reunited with the one he loved the most.

Though, Racburter pulls you from that thought as he speaks up. “In the beginning there were times when I thought my health draining was his way of enacting his revenge on me, of making me unable to even enjoy the prize I stole away for myself.”

“But recently, I’ve been able to remember him as he was. And, and it was not in Silas’ nature to hurt those who had gravely wronged him. I may have forgotten the truth but I’ve also regained much clarity in my last days. Silas would not have cursed me.”

And you nod softly again, unable to control the way your eyes clouded with tears as you agreed affirmingly. “No, Da wouldn’t have hurt you Mr. Racburter. He wouldn’t have wished ill on anyone.”

Your father was an overwhelmingly kind man, who would look gravely sad when he thought no one was paying close enough attention to him. And at times you think you inherited that quality from him after he passed. As though he’d accidentally gifted his sadness onto you, when you were intended to be something else, something good, like he was. But instead you ended up the way you did, isolated and jealous of the dead.

“It is not a habit of mine to visit the shop anymore. Mostly due to my condition, I have not bothered myself to come here in months, but today I thought I might withstand the journey.” He says, his voice gradually getting hoarser. This must have been the most he’d spoken for the first time in a long while, but he pushes through purposefully.

“I never married, or fathered any children of my own. My lawyer has been bothering me for months now to either name someone to inherit the rights to the business or sign away the property to the government. Now I know why I was called here today.” He then reaches into his pocket and retrieves a dark leather wallet, from inside he pulls out a single card and extends it to you.

“I am giving that which I owe you, and more.” He begins to breathe a little heavier. “This is my lawyer’s contact information. Call him, tell him that Eugene Racburter has made his decision, and that the old bastard plans on no longer answering any more phone calls.”

You take the card with wide eyes and tepid fingers, and before you can begin to speak, he hobbles away.

For a moment you wonder if his condition had anything to do with you, that perhaps in your initial state of grief and betrayal, you wished ill on him.

If that was the case, you wanted to set him free of that now. As you stand there, holding the last gift of Eugene Racburter between the tips of your fingers, you loosely extend your mind out to him and wish him well. “Set your soul at rest, Eugene. May you find comfort, respite and peace. I forgive you. I forgive you.”

That was the very last time you ever spoke to, or saw, Mr. Eugene Racburter.

—

January 29th, 1978

YOU

Eugene passed that very same early December night.

His lawyer later told you that he did not feel pain or discomfort in the end, instead he went peacefully in his sleep. Pushed beyond the veil with the upmost care.

Not only did Eugene name you the inheritor of the business, but he also gifted onto you the entirety of his life savings and the earnings he’d made from keeping the shop running for the two years he owed you, as well as the remaining fifteen years he spent working there.

He proved to be quite the frugal man, for the amount you were blessed with was no mere sum to scoff at, but instead a grand total of £136,670 GBP.

Your first course of action after you were given the news by the lawyer, Mr. William Michael Aberdeen as you'd later learned- was to quit both of your muggle jobs at once, without an ounce of regret or shred of guilt.

The second was to hold a funeral service for Eugene. The service was small, as not many attended, but it was beautifully organized by yourself and Mr. Aberdeen. You sent your father’s friend off with many flowers, thanks and prayers; as he was a man who kept true to his promise to Silas in the end.

+ + +

Sudden wealth did not cure you of your many flaws and unhealthy ways of living. It did not suddenly make you eat more than you felt you could stomach, sleep in timely fashions or magically rebuild all the bridges you’d burnt. It wasn’t the cure for great loss and grief for a cherished loved one, or miraculously healed your surviving parent.

You still experienced depressive and overly anxious episodes. Still didn’t quite know how to actively make friends, long lasting or otherwise.

In short, even with money and an easy job, you were still a loving, insomniatic mess.

Sudden, abundant wealth did however, free you from ever having to work for another person or corporation ever again. You were your own boss, manager and supervisor. You got to decide what was acceptable behavior from customers, and what was not. You chose how many people worked for and with you, and it was nothing short of liberating.

You started at home base first, hiring the nurse that had kindly and diligently taken care of your father through a service offered by the government, fulltime. You gave Rosalind room and board, as well as a healthy raise to her initial earnings.

Rosalind Pikekit was a meek and dependable girl of twenty-eight from Manchester. She’d originally aspired to become a nun and live in a convent somewhere peaceful and scenic, before she’d decided against it at the last minute. She’d realized that deep down, she still held onto the hope that she might find someone nice to settle down with and marry.

Secondly was the house caretaker, Miss Grace Lenfield, a kind, respectable and rather serious girl of twenty-three from Northumberland. She’d traveled to Reading in search of an opportunity to live anywhere more populated than where she was sired and raised. In the end, she was quite pleased with the raise she’d received, smiling more than you’d ever thought she was particularly capable of.

With the book shop, which only employed a total of three, loyal employees who you quickly found maintained the standard business affairs rather well, and as a result you fired no one. In turn, hiring only one person at the recommendation and request of one of the long time employees, Margeaux Windfax.

Margeaux was a tall, buxom girl of twenty-five with short, box dyed black hair from Essex. She was a generally private but funny person, who more often than not managed to get a genuine laugh or two out of you during your transitional period as shop owner.

Your time with her however, was gradually coming to an end as her university graduation date approached and she prepared to take a job opportunity up in Oxford.

The person she’d recommended was a boy of eighteen, he was a touch lanky with short, fluffy dirty blonde hair, a fair complexion and a wholly disarming smile; his name was Grant Chapman.

He’d been passed from one unloving guardian to the next as a younger boy, until the only places he lived on a regular basis were care homes for ‘troubled’ or ‘challenged’ youths. Margeaux later explained that she’d gotten to know him during the summer she’d spent volunteering at the care home he’d lived in when she was twenty-three, and he, sixteen.

She remarked that at the time she’d realized he was a good kid who just needed a little TLC, so she kept her landline the exact same just in case he ever needed a helping hand. And a little while after he’d turned eighteen, he’d apparently given her a call and she’d made sure he got on the first train to Reading, allowing him to crash at her place until he got on his feet.

Grant’s education over the years had been sporadic, but for what he lacked in that field initially, he quickly made up for in social and emotional intelligence, as well as being a remarkably quick visual learner.

You’d interacted with him intermittently in the beginning, but from the few moments you had been in his presence, he made you feel more your age than you had felt in a very long time. And momentarily you remembered that despite everything that made you feel old, worn and weathered inside, you were just seventeen.

Margeaux moved to Oxford on the ninth of January, Grant finished training on the twelfth. And on the twenty-first, he stopped coming in to work. No call, no show.

You’d initially found it strange seeing as he’d made considerable progress on the register and was absolutely adored by all customers that lined up into his queue. But left with no way to reach out to him, you were forced to continue running things as they once had been. Though you weren’t in any hurry to fill the position, resolving to maintain the role yourself.

+ + +

It wasn’t until the night of January twenty-ninth that you saw Grant Chapman again.

You’d been on your way home from treating yourself to a solo cinema date, a semi-indulgent act of leisure that you had intentionally been attempting to nurture, when you threw a customary glance around at your surroundings, only to see someone who you thought to be Grant; standing in an alleyway with his back pressed into grimy brick as a man pointed the tip of a pocket knife at his throat.

For a split second you simply stood there, your feet glued to the pavement as potential courses of action lined up in your head, neurotically shuffling through each one as a timer began ticking.

The first advantage you had was that you were completely concealed, having casted your shield charm before you stepped out of the theater- seeing as it was well past ten, broaching eleven at night, and you were a teen girl making your commute completely alone. You could act and not have to risk exposure.

Your next worry however was the knife shining at Grant’s jugular, if you weren’t absolutely meticulous about what spells coincided with which, you could inadvertently be responsible for slicing his throat yourself. This automatically removed expelliarmus, stupefy and petrificus totalus out of the running. These spells could accidentally result in the knife being flung in an undesirable direction.

Unable to risk waiting any longer you suck in a deep breath and you slip into the shadows, producing your wand out of your sleeve.

Momentarily you consider that if you were a bit cleverer, you might have been able to pull this off with more elegance and grace. But you only had one shot at this, and desolved to go with the spells you were absolutely certain you could pull off nonverbally.

Grant has both arms clinging to a metal pipe protruding from the alleyway brick, his eyes seem to barely be capable of staying open as he squints pointedly at the perpetrator, blinking sluggishly as though he’s actively attempting to stay present and awake. He says nothing as insults and threats alike are nastily spit into his face.

“Let go of the fucking pipe.” The man roughly snarls in a way that would be thoroughly menacing if said person was holding you at knifepoint, except he wasn’t.

The switchblade suddenly clangs to the pavement beside their feet, his detached fingers almost soundlessly plopping and rolling alongside the metallic instrument as they appear to cleanly amputate themselves.

“Mmh-“ The garbled noise emanates from the back of his throat but, before his exclamation of bafflement, or horror can meet his lips, he’s propelled nearly six feet as an errant portable AC unit throttles at full force into his side and you’re more than certain his left arm is broken, at the very least.

As the man lay sprawled out amongst almost damp patches of what you could only assume was human urine, and a few traces of rat excrement, he feebly groans out in pain.

Grant now swayed in place, having fully forgone holding onto the pipe for dear life amidst the puzzling debacle. As he stood squinting at the man through the dark, you clasped one of his hands into your own abruptly, causing him to jolt around in alarm.

“It’s me! It’s me.” You whisper lowly, your faces mere inches apart so that only he could hear you. You watched as his eyes widened and squinted as he momentarily attempted to place who you were. When you’d known he had properly doneso, you pulled him towards the entryway of the alley, where you had quietly slipped in from.

Lightly pushing him forward from behind so that you were certain he would not see the amputated digits not return to the man but simply pop out of existence; you figured if the guy was going to hold weapons to the throats of defenseless teenage boys, then he didn’t deserve to hold anything from that former hand again.

+ + +

With Grant’s hand in yours, you hurriedly pulled him further and further away from the scene.

While you were positive that no ordinary witness would be able to connect you to the event of a muggle getting his fingers divorced from his hand and then promptly steamrolled by an air conditioner- you were well aware that doing magic on a muggle, in front of a muggle, while you were concealed or not- could result in your wand being snapped, or worse. Azkaban was not for the faint of heart and you weren’t in any particular hurry to find out if you truly were made of stronger stuff.

Only once you were certain there were more than three blocks separating you from the man, did you slow down to a stop and turn to properly assess Grant’s condition. He hadn’t spoken at all during the entire getaway, or the initial incident.

Still grasping his hand, in hopes that physical contact lent the effects of your charm onto him (since you never had cause to test it at this level of capacity before), you looked over his person for any immediate reasons to worry. He appeared fine, albeit his clothes were wrinkled beyond belief and a bit grungy. The only signal being his apparent difficulty to keep his eyes focused and legs sturdy.

“Grant, what happened? Can you tell me?” You asked gently, searching for anything that might explain all of this.

“Waz drinkin’ at a pub.” He starts, his speech notably slurred but not unintelligible. “Met that guy, he bought me a drink, which I thought waz nice. Waz g’nna go home with ‘im, but then, I started feelin drowsi.”

Oh, you think. Getting the gist of the situation before he even finishes his explanation, and you effectively feel sick. Grossed out beyond belief as your stomach feels like it’s dropped to your feet, and for a moment you allow yourself to consider tucking this lovely boy somewhere safe- maybe waking Rosalind and Grace up to look after him so you could apparate back to that spot.

He’d probably still be there, or at least somewhere nearby, and it wouldn’t take you long to find him. You were certain you could think of ways to leave him even worse for wear than you already had.

“I’m so sorry that, fucker, did this to you, Grant.” You breathe out, biting your bottom lip as you look up at him. “Do you want me to take you to the hospital?”

“No.” He weakly shakes his head. “No, don’t. Please.”

You’re worried about him, but at a loss by his adamant refusal, resolving to at least see him safely home. “Well let me get you home then? Can you recall your address okay?”

But yet again he shakes his head, keeping his eyes closed or pointedly away from you as you ask, “You aren’t able to remember it right now?”

“I,” His voice cracks and he swallows, sluggishly busying himself with peering at the people who line the streets of the more popular areas of Reading at night. All seeming to pass in droves completely unaware of your presence, and you watch as he appears to focus on one group in particular- a rather common, nuclear family of five who blissfully go about their evening as the littluns tug their parents’ hands for one thing or another.

And for a moment you both watch almost enviously as their possibly bratty, or endearing demands are met only with words of acquiescence and fond grins, before they’re completely out of sight, and Grant attempts to clear his throat.

“I can’t recall it, becaz I don’t ‘ave one.” He mutters, face downturned out of shame, or weariness. “I’m ‘omeless. I’ve been ‘omeless since Mars lef’ for Oxford.”

“Where have you been sleeping?” You inquire, eyes squared on his face even as he refuses to meet your gaze.

“Been couch surfin’ when people I meet at pubs or clubs would let me crash. Spent a few nights passed out on benches, when the police were in’t ‘round to kick me off that iz.”

You inhale deeply after he finishes explaining, before tightening your grip on his hand.

“I have a spare bed and more food than I can personally even begin to eat. It’s yours if you want it, and don’t mind/aren’t allergic to animals. I have three.” You offer and his eyes finally focus onto your features.

“I’m not ‘lergic.” He answers slowly, eyeing you cautiously as if you might be pulling his leg. You aren’t.

“Good.” You nod curtly, pursing your lips into a fine line. “It’s settled then. You’ll come with me.”

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