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prettydaisygirl · 5 days ago

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𝓢𝓲𝓵𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼: 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓵𝓸𝓰𝓾𝓮

a sirius black x fem!reader series

cw: fem!reader, muggle AU, this chapter contains themes of forced marriage, manipulation, and child abuse

prologue: in which Regulus is missing and Sirius gets an offer he can't refuse. ✩ 4.0k words

series masterlist

Age 15

“Sirius?”

Sirius’ entire body tenses up, spine going perfectly straight. The sound of his younger brother’s voice makes his stomach sink, like it always does. His grip on his bag tightens, but he doesn’t move any closer to the door. Regulus’ voice speaks up again, shaky and small and Sirius hates it.

“Are you leaving again?”

“Yes.” Sirius answers truthfully, seeing no reason to lie. He’s been caught on his way out the door, not that Reggie can do anything to stop him. “I can’t stay here, and I’m not coming back this time.”

“You always say that.” Reggie retaliates, and Sirius can hear his brother take two steps closer to him. He follows suit, making a point to take three steps closer to the front door.

“Well this time, I mean it.” Sirius huffs, “Besides, you have everything you could want, right? I’m just in the way.”

“Please don’t go.” Regulus’ voice is quiet and pleading, shaky enough to let Sirius know that he has tears in his eyes. “If you go, I think something really bad will happen.”

“Yeah, mum and dad will lose their punching bag.” Sirius shakes his head, finally turning to look at his brother. He purposely ignores the way Reggie’s glossy eyes make his stomach churn. “Reggie, you don’t get it. I’ll die if I stay in this house.”

Reggie blinks, a tear slipping down his cheek, still slightly chubby with youth. His lip quivers, and when he speaks, his voice cracks.

“I’ll die if you leave.”

Sirius leaves anyway.

Sirius leans back against the plush couch in his flat, one arm thrown over the back of it. His eyes are dialed in on the coffee table, and the cream-colored envelope sitting there. It’s unopened, and Sirius wishes it would burst into flames. Wishes he could rewind time to before he saw the godforsaken thing by his front door.

There’s only one thing on the envelope and it’s Sirius’ name. He knows, he knows, that it’s written in Regulus’ handwriting. There’s no return address, no stamp. It was dropped off at his front door and the thought of that terrifies him.

He inhales deeply, trying not to think about poor, sweet Reggie. He shakes his head, and the thoughts inside it away. There is no way this letter can be written by Regulus because he’s gone and he has been for a long time. It might be his handwriting on the paper, solidified in ink and burned into Sirius’ retinas, but it can’t be from Reggie. It can’t.

He loses track of time staring at the coffee table, long enough that his jaw is sore from clenching, and he has a massive headache. He comes back to his senses when the front door opens and James steps through, shaking out his hair. Water droplets fly off of his dark ringlets as he shakes his head like a wet dog.

“Hey,” James greets as he slips off his raincoat and leaves his shoes by the door, “What’s goin’ on?”

Sirius doesn’t know what to say. His immediate instinct is to get defensive, something like ‘what makes you think something is going on? I’m fine!’ But truthfully he isn’t fine. Not at all.

“I think Reggie wrote me a letter.” Sirius’ voice is gruff when he speaks up. He swallows thickly and watches as James’ body freezes. He turns, tilts his head, and his face morphs into an expression of confusion.

“Reggie? You mean… your brother, Reggie?” James’ footsteps echo through the room, thuds on hardwood and then the carpet as he reaches the coffee table. He doesn’t reach down to grab the letter, just looks at it like he’s afraid it might bite him or burst into flames. “Are you sure?”

Sirius gestures noncommittally at the table in front of him despite the deep, knowing ache that’s grown into his bones over the last several hours. “That’s his handwriting.”

“I thought your brother was dead.” James shivers as he moves his gaze away from the coffee table, foregoing the letter to take his normal seat on the couch. His legs are sprawled out, some water droplets still falling off of him. Remus isn’t here to scold him for getting water on the furniture.

“I said assumed dead, James.” Sirius’ hands rub down the exhausted skin of his face. “And I’m the only one that did any assuming. Technically, he’s missing.”

“Alright,” James sits up, elbows on his knees and his chin resting on his hands. “So your missing brother is sending you letters.” He tilts his head to the side. “Have you opened it?”

“No.” Sirius’ tone is short and strained, eyes looking almost haunted as he stares at the offending parchment. His fingers rub slow lines from his chin across his jaw and back, but it does nothing to ease the clenching. James is silent for a moment, his eyes trailing between Sirius’ form and the coffee table, again and again, like he’s waiting for something more from Sirius but it’s not coming.

“Do you want me to open it?” James asks, flicking his hair out of his face, water droplets cascading around him. He begins to reach for it but is stopped by Sirius’ hand grabbing his wrist. Sirius’ mouth opens to curse at James for almost getting water on the parchment but he doesn’t get the chance. The front door opens again with a squeak and Remus steps inside, closing his umbrella as he does so.

“James, if you’re dripping water on the furniture-” Remus doesn’t even look up while sliding off his shoes. James is off the couch instantly, a bright smile on his face like he didn’t just get scolded.

“Reggie wrote Sirius a letter.” James says, and Sirius’ eyes close as his fingers find the bridge of his nose. He lets James talk, feeling like words won’t leave his mouth even if he wanted them to.

“Reggie? Like dead Reggie?”

“Not dead, apparently. Only assumed.” James’ voice seems too boisterous for the way that Sirius’ gut churns, and Remus is silent as he steps into the living room, eyes settling on the subject of the conversation, the dreaded letter.

“Well, have you opened it?” This question of Remus’ is finally the one that gets Sirius to speak, but only after a gruff, strained sound leaves his throat.

“No, I haven’t bloody opened it! I’ve thought he was dead for a decade!” His words are sharper than he means them to be, but the fear and ice surging through his veins don’t leave him much room for patience.

James shuffles his feet sheepishly, and as Remus looks between the two of them, it seems like he takes it upon himself to solve the situation, like he always does.

“James, go dry off.” Remus tells him with a wave of his hand. James opens his mouth to protest, but scurries off once Remus sends him another hard look. Silence takes over the room once James leaves, Sirius’ body still stiff with tension.

“You haven’t opened it.” Remus says, a statement this time. Then, a question. “How do you know it’s from him?”

“The handwriting.” Sirius says, no hesitation. He just knows. There’s a slight waver to his voice that is unfamiliar to the both of them. Remus’ eyes trace over the loopy letters as Sirius speaks again, “And it was dropped at the front door, not in the post.”

Remus hums, like he’s considering what to say next. He presses his lips together, moving them slowly until he finally decides, and speaks.

“Do you want to open it?”

Sirius sits with Remus’ question for a moment. Does he want to open it? Of course he does, if Reg is trying to reach out to him after all this time, then he should read it. But he’s afraid.

He’s afraid of what the letter will say, obviously. He’s afraid the guilt he’s worked so hard to bury will resurface; he can already feel its tendrils crawling at his throat. He’s afraid that everything will change once he reads this letter, and it’s that specific fear that makes him want to toss it into the fire. Because if Reggie isn’t dead, then nothing else in Sirius’ life is certain.

“I…” Sirius allows his eyes to shut, rubbing at them with his fists. He inhales shakily and then returns his gaze to Remus’ face. “I want you to read it.”

Remus raises a brow at his best friend’s request, “Me?”

“I can’t do it.” Sirius squeezes his eyes shut again, shaking his head back and forth slowly, “I think if I try, I will pass out. But I have to know what it says.” There’s a moment of silence from the two of them, Remus hesitant and Sirius waiting for him. He opens his eyes again, and Remus must see the plea within them.

“Okay,” Remus finds his hands shaking, breaths shallow as his long, nimble fingers reach for the letter. He opens it, eyes tracing over the words on the paper. Sirius stares him down intently.

Remus’ brows furrow. His head tilts. His lips part with a soft “oh?”

“What? What does it say?” Sirius’ eyes widen frantically as he leans forward. His fingers grip his knees so tightly his knuckles are white.

“Well, it’s-” Remus’ words are short, and he doesn’t finish his thought. Instead, he turns the parchment around. Sirius panics at first, almost looking away, but he can’t. Especially once he sees.

There, in his brother’s same loopy handwriting from childhood, are four words:

They know. Find me.

The sight of 12 Grimmauld Place, even from the outside, is enough to have Sirius’ stomach churning. Each step feels heavy, like his feet recognize his path and every nerve is screaming at him to turn around. There’s nothing for him here, there hasn’t been for a long time. He swore the last time he was here that he would never come back, and he still stands by that. If it weren’t for Reggie and that stupid letter, he wouldn’t be here.

He raises a hand to knock at the door and his knuckles sting. Any amount of contact with this place brings back memories Sirius would rather repress. The bad ones, obviously, but the good ones too. Those all involve Reg, and well… Sirius would rather not think about him right now. Not when he’s about to face his parents. Kreacher, the family butler, opens the door with a scowl and a glare, and Sirius returns the favor as he steps inside. It feels like all of the air has been sucked from his lungs.

The sound of chatter wafts in from the next room, his parents and… another man whose voice Sirius doesn’t recognize. When he turns the corner, he realizes the unknown man is Lucius Malfoy. Sirius doesn’t know Lucius personally. He knows of his family’s various connections to the Malfoys, along with their less than stellar reputation, but beyond that, he is a stranger.

His parents turn, seeing him the same moment he sees them. His mother, face split into a grin that makes his stomach churn, steps forward, claws reaching out for him. All Sirius can think about is how many times those same hands have caused him pain. He almost flinches when her fingers take his own, but he doesn’t. Her skin feels veinier than he remembers it being, thinner. More fragile.

“Sirius,” Her voice is not sharp or biting, it’s… gentle. Like she missed him, like he’s something precious. Like she’s his mother.

His whole body goes taut, his mind unsure of how to react. Walburga has never been a mother to him, Sirius cannot think of a single time in his childhood when she said that she loved him. The lines on her palm are stained into his brain not because he traced and memorized them, but instead the bruises those hands left behind.

That same palm reaches to cup his cheek, and despite Sirius’ growing realization about his mother’s obvious fragility, this time he flinches. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t harden or pull away.

She smiles. It makes him feel queasy.

“My son, oh,” Walburga pats his cheek. Once, twice, three times, before her hands lower back to hold his again. “We have been waiting for you to return home for quite some time. Isn’t that right, Orion?”

Sirius and his father make eye contact for the first time in over ten years. Orion doesn’t look even half as enthusiastic as his wife, but he manages to give his son a nod. Lucius Malfoy stands awkwardly next to him, and his eyes keep darting toward the door back to the hallway. This whole situation makes the hair on the back of Sirius’ neck stand on end, his stomach uneasy.

Everything feels off-kilter, like Sirius is living in a sort of twilight zone. The furniture, all of the decor, even the way his parents dress are exactly the same, but Sirius does not believe he’s ever seen his mother smile like this before. It’s like her eyes are glowing, the only vibrant thing about her now.

“Come, Sirius.” Walburga encourages, guiding her son further into the sitting room. She takes a seat in a plush chair by the fire. Orion sits beside her, and eventually, Sirius settles down in the chair across from them. Lucius stands off to the side, looking entirely out of place and uncomfortable. Orion suggests Lucius take the seat by Sirius, but he declines, eyes still focused on the door to the hallway.

Sirius studies his parents now, his brain gathering information, noticing the decade-long changes in the two people who were supposed to raise him, supposed to love him, but didn’t. His mother is pale, too pale, with heavy bags under her eyes and her hair is dull. She looks well put together, but she is obviously ill. His father’s hair has greyed entirely, skin weighed down by wrinkles and years of anger. He moves slowly, like his joints are stiff. They both look incredibly weak, and Sirius doesn’t know how to feel about that.

“Now, Sirius,” His mother starts, but pauses when the door to the hallway opens. Malfoy practically jumps out of his skin, though standing on the other side is Kreahcer, and Malfoy looks equal parts relieved and disappointed. Kreacher, grumbling and frowning, rolls a small tea cart next to Orion. The wheel squeaks and the other occupants in the room wait silently until the door to the hallway has fully closed again. Orion pours his wife a cup, then offers one to Sirius, who declines with a shake of his head and a wave of his hand. Walburga takes a slow, shaky sip before setting the cup aside. She leans forward, her eyes focused on her son’s face.

“It’s been quite some time since you have been home, Sirius. I’m sure you can see that much has changed since your… departure.” His mother’s voice is just as hollow as it used to be, and gets shaky toward the end. Walburga clears her throat and takes another sip of tea. “Your father and I have been talking, and we feel that it would be best if, well…” She trails off and glances at her husband.

Orion sighs heavily and readjusts in his chair, crossing his arms in front of him. He looks reluctant, or maybe Sirius is projecting. His voice is deep when he speaks, “We feel that it would be best for you to be officially named as head of the Black Family.”

Sirius is, quite frankly, speechless. This is definitively not how he expected this family reunion to go, and it seems Lucius Malfoy is just as surprised by the announcement when his head whips around to stare at Orion. Silence engulfs the room, only the sounds of Walburga and Orion’s teacups lightly clinking as they place them down. The lack of response from her son makes Walburga antsy, evidently, and she clears her throat and speaks again.

“Of course, as our only son, we feel that-”

“I’m not your only son.” Sirius’ voice is not raised when he speaks up, but it is sharp. His mother’s words strike him deep, like a knife to his gut. Sirius assumed his brother was dead because that is what you do when someone is missing for a decade. But his mother… his mother speaks in finalities, like she knows Reggie is dead. If Sirius didn’t know better, he wouldn’t be able to hold back his guilt (though it always lingers, just beneath the surface). It’s rich, coming from his mother, considering she did nothing to search for Regulus. He was never reported missing, there were never any searches, nothing. Knowing her words aren’t true doesn’t stop the way his body reacts to them, his gut twisting and a feeling like poison coursing through his veins. He repeats himself, hard and clear, looking his mother in the eye the way he used to avoid. “I am not your only son.”

Sirius doesn’t know what kind of reaction he expects to that. Maybe an acknowledgement of his brother, maybe an explanation of what transpired, maybe even a lie about Reggie’s cause of death. What he doesn’t expect is for his mother to simply… move on.

“Well… regardless,” Walburga raises a hand to adjust her hair and continues, “You are here, and we have agreed on it.” Her tone leaves no room for disagreement, her eyes watching him, almost daring him to refuse again. Sirius wonders how deep that vileness and cruelness from his childhood lies within her. He feels it’s likely simmering just beneath the surface.

Sirius grips the arms of his chair so tight, his knuckles are white and his joints are stiff. He forces himself to take a calming breath before he says something he regrets. Lucius Malfoy watches the three of them with dark, curious eyes, and Sirius wonders why the hell he’s still standing there. He wants to tell him to fuck off, but he has other things to focus on.

He thinks about Reggie. It makes him feel sick, his throat tightening, but thinking about his younger brother is the only thing that might diffuse the bomb inside of him threatening to go off. He forces himself to remember why he even agreed to come back to this God forsaken family.

They know. Find me.

Sirius can see Reggie’s face now, the outline of his cheeks, his smile (as rare as those were for the both of them), his eyes. He can remember it perfectly when he forces himself to, the only memory he’s allowed himself to keep from before the age of 16. He feels his eyes burn, and he inhales in a shaking gasp.

If his parents know what happened to Reggie, then Sirius has no choice but to stay. He has no choice but to go along with what they want until he can figure things out and find his brother. He owes that to Reggie, at least.

They know. Find me. Again and again and again, like a song on an endless loop, it bounces around Sirius’ mind until it’s all he knows. When he manages to open his eyes, there’s a smile on Walburga’s face like she knows she’s won, that he won’t argue again.

“Lucius!” Walburga waves in Malfoy’s direction. The man jumps, like he forgot he was in the room, and the look on his face makes Sirius feel nauseous. Malfoy’s steps thud against the wood as he begins to cross the sitting room back to the hallway door. Walburga clears her throat and turns back to Sirius, “Well?”

Step, step, step. The sound of Lucius’ shoes echo through the room as Sirius finds himself struggling to answer, seemingly getting louder despite the man walking away. His heart pounds, and he feels like this is a trap. He doesn’t know what he’s truly getting into if he agrees to this, but he also feels like he has no choice. He knows he doesn’t have a choice if he wants any chance of finding Reggie.

Reggie.

“Why?” Sirius’ question is clipped, his voice strangled, but he asks it anyway. He doesn’t want to become Head of the Black family, and he finds it suspicious that his family are pushing him to do so now. Reggie is gone, yes, but Sirius was hated before Reggie, and until now, they’d seemingly forgotten about him after. Walburga’s brows raise at his question, like she’s surprised he actually had the gall to ask it. Sirius isn’t the frightened little boy he’d been when he ran away. He won’t run this time, not with Reggie waiting for him.

“Sirius,” Walburga stretches his name out long, the hiss of both ‘s’ making his skin crawl. The door to the hallway creaks open behind him but he doesn’t look, eyes focused on his mother. His father looks pale, eyes dull like he’s wasting away by the minute. “You are our oldest son. Your father and I aren’t going to be around forever.” Her eyes dart behind Sirius and light up. Sirius begins to turn and look but is stopped when Walburga sighs and says, “Our lawyer suggested we name an heir as Head of Household.”

Sirius finds himself nodding in understanding slowly as he watches his mother’s face. He thinks that might be the most honest thing she’s said to him all evening. He sits back in his chair, and his mother prompts him again.

“Well?”

And this time, Sirius gives an answer, voice leaving his mouth in a sigh. “Fine.”

Walburga stands, and so does Orion, albeit significantly slower. Sirius’ mother’s hands reach out, a smile appearing on her face that almost seems genuine. When Sirius turns, he sees her holding the hands of a young woman. You look… small, but not necessarily physically. More like you’re trying to occupy as little space in the room as possible. Your eyes look sort of lost, darting around, taking everything in. At one point you make eye contact with him, freeze, and then seem to become even more afraid.

“Hello, darling.” His mother greets, and you give a meek nod in return. This somehow makes his mother brighten even further, and Sirius gets a bad taste in his mouth. Like metal, like blood. “I knew Tom would pick just the right one.”

“He was insistent on only the best for the Black family.” Lucius says, but Sirius doesn’t hear him. He’s staring at you, who stands between his mother and father and reminds him so much of Regulus it makes him sick. Did Reggie look as haunted as this?

“Mother,” Sirius stands slowly, elongating his words to match the stretching of his muscles. He holds his hands out in front of him like he would if approached by a dangerous pet, though there isn’t any clear danger. For him or anyone. “Who is this?”

His mother’s laughter rings true through the air, clear as a bell. You and Lucius both jump, and the manicured claw of his mother clamps down on your shoulder, the other on Sirius’.

“You see, my son,” Walburga starts, with you visibly shaking and terrified. “Your father and I are very generous. We understand that we’re asking for a lot by having you become the new Head of the family, and we decided to help you… get settled a little easier, and be more successful in fulfilling your role.”

Orion, as shaky as he is, manages to balance and place a hand on your other shoulder. The silence in between words feels loud, and Sirius’ heart fully stops when it’s his father who speaks next and ultimately reveals the truth. And Sirius’ world comes crashing down around him.

“Your mother and I have found you a wife.”

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