#marauders era fanfiction | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mirclealignr · 3 months ago

Text

self preservation | james potter [4k]

james potter x fem!reader

requested by anonymous wherein james likes everyone but y/n.

warnings: descriptions of vehicle disasters, death, gets a little dark, angst, she / her pronouns, and i think that’s it?

a/n: help IDK. anyway lemme know ur thoughts !

If James Potter could embody his hatred into a sentient being, he knew it would take the form of Y/N. Ever since their schooling days, James had held a particular disregard for her. Though she seemed the person everyone could like - a pleasing disposition, an amiable temperament - James could not help but dislike her.

No one else could see through her falsity. James vehemently protested her joining the Order, but alas, he was overruled. To James, this was merely a temporary setback, and he would still yet prove to the others what a mistake it was accepting her.

She was insufferable, inappropriate, and unsuitable for this sort of position. She would not be an asset to the Order, purely a liability. He watched her train, knowing she could never rise to the challenge of the types of operations they carried out: gathering intelligence, attacking Voldemort’s followers directly in meticulously orchestrated missions, and protecting vulnerable individuals who had, for some reason, made themselves Voldemort’s targets.

James knew it was only a matter of time before she proved herself unworthy.

“If everyone is here, I think we can start the meeting,” suggested James after a few moments of polite mingling.

“Y/N isn’t here,” Remus noted. “We should wait for her.”

“It isn’t our fault if she can’t make our meetings on time,” spat James.

“She’s not actually late yet, James,” Marlene rolled her eyes. “Who pissed in your cornflakes this morning?”

James ignored the probing of Marlene and instead crossed his arms, his lips pressed in a tight line. What would it matter if she missed the start of the meeting? She was not so very important to the Order, in any regard.

As James quietly huffed, Y/N peered around the door sheepishly. “Sorry. Was hoping I wouldn’t be the last to arrive.”

“No matter,” hummed Dumbledore. “Shall we begin?” He lifted his arms, a sort of request that people took their seats and quietened down.

James could hardly pay attention to the meeting at all. He seethed at Y/N, glaring at her, thinking about all the ways in which she would inevitably fail the Order and cost them valuable information, their secrecy, and perhaps even their lives. Sirius had once asked him why he disliked her so, but he could not think of an answer beyond — “There’s just something about her.”

The truth, no one would ever know.

“Mr. Potter?”

James said nothing.

“Mr. Potter?!” Minerva said again, louder this time.

James snapped his attention toward Minerva. “Sorry! What were you saying?” his cheeks flushed.

Minerva sighed. “We have it on good authority that Voldemort is planning some sort of attack in London. However, we believe this to be a decoy for something much bigger. Now, we can't be sure, but-"

"But we think they're planning an attack on the Ministry," interrupted Moody.

"The Ministry?!" Lily seemed rather shocked. "It's one thing attacking defenceless Muggles, it's another to attack the Ministry of Magic."

"We've been aware for some time that the Ministry has been infiltrated, Miss Evans," Kinglsey Shacklebolt chimed in. "We have only been unaware as to who it is feeding information back to Voldemort."

"Why now?" Asked Sirius.

"The Ministry is...distracted. With the recurrence of attacks in the Muggle World, the Ministry's top priority is maintaining our secrecy. The Muggle Prime Minister is becoming more uncooperative." Moody explained.

"Who can blame him?" Minerva scoffed.

"So, what are we doing about it?" James asked.

"Well, Mr. Potter," Moody turned to him. "We need people stationed both in the potential attack spots in London and within the Ministry. We need a safe house, we need-"

"Numbers," James finished his sentence.

"Exactly. Which means everyone will be a part of this operation, everyone."

Although this was to be expected, it did not mean that those who were usually part of the behind the scenes aspects of the Order were not apprehensive as to their performances in the field. While everyone had received training and were more than enough prepared for such an operation, training in a controlled space was nothing to the unpredictability of real life. There would be no second chances.

James laughed humourlessly. The disaster he had predicted was about to come to fruition. Thursday next, he would be proven right.

Y/N out in the field? Though she had been desperate to be part of operations like this, James had protested her at every corner. Albus and Minerva merely agreed due to her age and inexperience, though she was not much younger than James herself. James did not care why they kept her out of the field in the end, as long as she was kept out.

But it seemed, there would be no protesting this decision.

The mingling continued post meeting, some taking small portions of food and others inching their way to the door with polite smiles on their faces. James watched the scene before him unfold—observing the awkward small talk, tuning in on the more serious chatter of the senior members.

“I’m nervous,” Y/N admitted. “Are you?” She asked Lily.

“A little, yeah. But we’ll be fine!” She assured her.

“You won’t be alone,” Remus reassured the both of them. “We’ll all be there.”

James chuckled. “Yeah but we can’t be covering your arse the whole time.”

The three of them turned to James’ direction. Remus shot him an uncomfortable look, a silent plea to drop the subject and move on.

“What? I’m just saying, we’re not here to hold your hand and risk the entire point of the operation just because you aren’t good enough for field work.”

Y/N’s countenance could not be characterised by merely one thing. It was evident in her face she felt humiliated, downcast and reproachful. Nevertheless, with a brave face, Y/N smiled gently, strategically avoiding the concerned looks of Lily and Remus.

“Best not get in my way, then,” she said through gritted teeth, sliding between her friends to bid her goodbyes to Albus and Minerva.

“Careful, James” Lily warned. “Anyone would think you don’t want her to get hurt.”

- - -

Y/N hadn’t the faintest idea as to James’ disdain for her. For a while, during their Hogwarts years, Y/N optimistically imagined it was part of a bit, that perhaps this was his way of seeking her attention. But after years of growing and maturing, this part of their relationship remained unchanged, regardless of his obvious efforts to mend his other ways.

If anything, his hatred for her only grew. His childish dislike was replaced with concrete, adult contempt, something that could not be easily shifted nor changed. For the most part, she didn’t let him get to her, for she was adamant in rebuking his success. However, upon discovering it was James who was behind keeping from really being a part of the Order, things took a drastic change.

Almost instantly, his immature jibes and snarky comments pricked at her fragile skin, pinched her nerves and seized her sensitive heart. Suddenly, it was much harder to ignore the words that came from a place of such hatred. Especially when it came from someone she truly admired.

Yes, Y/N could not deny that ever since Hogwarts, she had admired James Potter. Confident, successful, intelligent—she was in awe of him from the beginning. It was quiet admiration, a well kept secret. After joining the Order, she observed that these talents had only blossomed.

Y/N slipped quietly away from the safe house, walking through the small park lit up by extravagantly designed lampposts. She listened to the fountain, the crunch of leaves from hedgehogs coming out of their slumber, and for any sign of footsteps behind her. These were dangerous times. When it was safe, she apparated home—a small flat on the outskirts of the centre of London. From her bedroom window she could see the impressive city skyline.

She didn’t mind living in Muggle London for the most part, but she knew it wouldn’t be forever. When it was all over, she’d move far away from it all, from where it had all happened.

But for now, she was exactly where she needed to be.

- - -

It had all been decided. A safe house had been provided in South Hampton, where Dorcas would stay and monitor, charming it with spells that could not be pierced. Kingsley would remain with the Muggle Prime Minister with an extra helping hand from Minerva. Moody retained his position within the Ministry where Remus, Lily, Frank and Marlene were posted.

Albus, Y/N, James, Alice, Gideon and Fabian were stationed throughout Muggle London, paired off and waiting for some sort of attack. James and Y/N were waiting near the Thames, a coffee sitting on their table, a half eaten pastry—blending in. James hadn’t said a word.

“The Order does not function when we are divided, Mr. Potter. This is not a punishment, as you have described, it is a reconciliation.”

James could hear Dumbledore’s words reverberating through his thoughts. Mindless words, he thought. As much as he hated to admit it, however, he knew Dumbledore’s words rang with truth.

“So…what’d you order?” James asked.

Y/N snapped her eyes from the river, laughing through her nose before answering. “Err something with pistachio, I think? Not that nice. You?”

“Regular.”

Y/N knew this was simply an attempt to appear normal—to chat and act natural. But there was a small part of her that wished it was more.

“I don’t even like coffee,” James laughed.

Y/N laughed too, scrunching her brows together. “Why didn’t you get a hot chocolate or something?”

“I don’t even know,” he shook his head.

“Want to try mine?” Y/N asked.

James was taken aback. He had his reasons, but he’d never been nice to Y/N, not even polite, so it took him by surprise when she gave him the benefit of the doubt and was nice to him anyway.

“No, it’s okay.”

She shrugged, leaving her pistachio drink on the table. She wondered if she should say something now or let the silence settle around them again like a cage they seemed to never be released from.

“Have you heard anything?” Y/N asked.

“Not yet. It’s getting to that time when all the Muggles leave work. London is about to get even busier,” he sighed, concerned for the lives he couldn’t protect.

“Even if our best isn’t good enough, we still cared enough to do something,” Y/N reassured him, placing her hand on his atop the table.

James felt curiously warm from her act of kindness, something which led him into a kind of comfort he’d never felt before. And it was likely to do with the fact he’d never let her this close before.

Y/N had run out of time to fix what was broken between them, for behind James’ head, she saw it—a flare of red sparks. Someone had cast Vermillious.

“James, we need to go,” Y/N instructed, nodding her head in the direction of where she had seen it—the remnants of red hung in the air.

“Shit!”

The two of them ran to a nearby alley, Y/N ever so slightly behind. When they were sure enough to be alone, the two of them clasped hands and apparated to the nearest high rise they could remember seeing beside the red sparks. It did not take them long after arriving to realise from where the commotion had originated.

Streams of people spilled out from the stairs of the Underground, running, screaming, and terrified.

James dove into the horde of civilians, squeezing and shoving his way through the onslaught of panic. Y/N followed, slipping through behind him in the path he’d already cleared. It was a maze and understanding it certainly wasn’t helped by people running in every direction to find any sort of exit. James had only been down there once as a laugh with his mates, curious to experience how Muggles got around.

But Y/N, she had been on the tube a plethora of times. She enjoyed feeling like she was a part of something just as everyone else was. She missed the feeling of belonging—being in Muggle London made it easier for her with the Order, but she felt bitterly alone, isolated and excluded in a city that would never understand nor accept her.

“I can’t tell what’s actually going on,” James shouted over the swarm.

“I don’t-”

But Y/N was cut short by an Earth-shattering crash somewhere in the distance ahead, followed by an echo of shrieks. The citizens of London intensified their cries, panic overloading as people began to push and shove, trampling over each other to reach some kind of safety.

James began helping individuals who had tumbled to the floor while Y/N tried to deduce the direction from which they were running. It seemed as if most people were heading away from the north east side, and so that is the direction they headed.

However, they did not need to reach their destination to figure out what had caused so much horror. On their way, they saw Gideon and Fabian, crawling and stumbling in the wreckage of two Underground tubes that had evidently crashed into one another. And further on, Albus and Alice at yet another wreckage site.

This was grave. There were not enough of them.

James had lost sight of Y/N, torn between who to help and what direction to go. He ran through the Underground, searching for more trains, if there were any other damages, searching for Y/N. After many twists and turns he found her, leading civilians aboard a train to safety. It had not been crashed into by another, but James suspected, as she did, it was mostly likely a sitting duck.

James herded the swarm of people towards the nearest exit, panic setting in as he heard a train barrelling into the station from a distance through the echoing tunnel. There were still people on the train, including Y/N, forcing people up, helping children who had lost their parents in the tumult. It was nearing ever closer, blasting its horn as a siren of danger which only fueled the hysteria of helpless innocents.

Death approached, warning its potential victims, crying for lives to be spared. Y/N was determined to save as many as she could, as time would allow. And though she had been unwilling to sacrifice her own, in that moment, it didn’t seem to matter.

“Y/N, get off that train now!” James screamed.

He had never felt such fear seize him before, snatching his breath from his lungs. He was immobilised with dread, terror, a fear that had forced on him the truths he had not previously been willing to confront. If Y/N died now, those truths and his regret would be buried, unable to be dug out to make way for something new, someone new. Y/N would remain with him forever, interlaced into the very fabric of his being, unable to materialise.

Y/N looked up through the window, a child in her arms. She knew the deadly collision was imminent, she knew the child was frightened yet unaware as to why. She could see his mother was crying, held back by onlookers - those who had no attachment to the child yet could not see a mother die alongside her young.

James watched as Y/N fought to reach the open doors as he forced his way through the crowd scrambling to get away and avoid the impact. He watched the train speed closer, inching Y/N towards the end. She understood nothing but to get the child off the train and into his mother’s arms. In a desperate attempt to bring this to fruition, she threw the child off the train, for time had swiftly been exhausted. James caught the screaming child, handing it off quickly to the mother who had not time to even express her gratitude before she ran from the platform seconds before the train collided with the other, Y/N having not made it to safety.

James threw himself round a corner, diving to the floor for some sort of cover. But almost as quickly as he had gone down, he was back on his feet, searching for a sign of Y/N in the wreckage. He could not see her anywhere, he could barely see anything in the mangled train. His heart stopped. Moments later Gideon and Fabian arrived on the scene, pulling survivors from the other train, calling for aid, but James merely fell to his knees.

After years, James had come to realise that it was not Y/N that he had hated, but the possibilities she illustrated, the hypotheticals that all too often ended in tragedy, of which she symbolised. Because, in spite of it all, James was afraid that the potential of her love, that eternal promise, would vanish, taken as a victim of the war like so much else.

All the hatred he had fostered and nurtured towards her, all the loathing, was nothing more than a pathetic attempt at self preservation. At all costs James would protect his heart against what might tear it apart, the remnants of his flesh revealing the pieces of her woven into him.

“James? What is it?” Alice cried, arriving at the scene.

He couldn’t speak, only lifted his head to look at the sight of it again, wincing. Alice followed his gaze, unsure of what he meant.

“Where’s Y/N?” She asked, suddenly frantic.

James whimpered.

“Where is she?” She asked again. “James?!”

“Gone! She’s gone, alright?!” Screamed James, tears slowly beginning to fall from his eyes and pathetically flow down his cheeks.

Everything he had been protecting himself from had happened anyway, despite his efforts and regardless of what he had done to prevent it. Except, James was left with the uncertainty, the soul eroding sentiment, of ‘what if.’ In the months and years to come, instead of being able to reconcile with his grief, comforted by the fact that he had made the most of the time he had with her, James would be left a shadow of himself, shrinking into his shame and regret.

He had convinced himself to hate her, and over the years had begun to believe in his own lie. He did not hate her at all. Everything he had done to keep her out of the Order had, perhaps sometimes subconsciously, been to prevent this very fate. Though he had disguised it with disregard and disbelief in her abilities, even at times believing in his own lie, it was all deception.

His biggest fear was loving and losing her, but now he had lost her without the privilege of being able to love her.

There was no final goodbye, nothing he could say to her in her final moments to make anything worthwhile. She was simply gone.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. His tears had been few, perhaps too in shock to really hand himself over to the anguish that would inevitably consume him.

He couldn’t stay there, not while there were innocent lives at stake. So James stood and mustered the strength he had left, turning to face Alice and Dumbledore.

But James was met with a different face. Someone wholly unexpected. Y/N.

“It’s okay,” Y/N laughed. “I’m fine.”

“Wh- How?” James sniffled.

“I disapparated. I don’t know why but I thought of home and that’s where I ended up. After the shock of like…nearly dying, I came straight back,” she explained, rather nonchalantly, James thought. “Sorry if I scared you.”

He could say nothing. He felt all too much to be able to decipher each emotion which mercilessly punctured his heart. James wrapped his arms around her in a pure and driven show of his affection, overcome with the emotion he had hidden and locked away for too long. He squeezed her tightly, and thanked some greater being that she hadn’t been harmed.

He’d been given a second chance.

- - -

James didn’t see Y/N again until the next Order meeting a week later. Time and time again he found himself outside her apartment building, a bouquet of flowers in his hand, or a coffee without pistachio in it. But every time he felt the courage slip from his body, carried away in the late summer breeze.

He didn’t know how to begin to make amends, how to say what he’d felt for years in a comprehensive way. It barely made sense to him why he had chosen the path that he had. How would it make sense to her, the person he had treated so poorly for all these years?

As Dumbledore droned on, praising the members of the Order for how many lives they had saved, reassuring them over the lives that were lost, and cheering to an overall successful mission, James felt his eyes drawn to Y/N almost every second. She was her usual self, no different to how she had always been.

James had faced his torment alone.

“Y/N, could I speak to you?” James asked when the meeting had ended.

“Sure,” she shrugged, heading into an empty room, suspecting nothing. “Alright?”

“Yeah,” James shifted his feet. “I don’t really know where to start.”

James could hardly hear himself over the pounding in his ears.

Y/N only smiled.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry…for how shit I’ve treated you over the years-”

“Oh, please, James, it’s fine,” laughed Y/N. “You don’t have to feel guilty ‘cause I might have almost died or something. I’m fine, so don’t worry about it. Water under the bridge,” she smiled, patting him on the shoulder.

“No,” James said firmly, causing Y/N to remove the hand that had been placed comfortingly on his shoulder. “It’s more than that,” he hesitated a moment, gathering his thoughts. “I’ve never felt so frightened in my entire life than when you were on that train. When I thought-” he steadied himself. “When I thought you’d gone, I’ve never felt such…despair.”

Y/N listened closely, breath hitching.

“I’ve never been able to tell you before, I’ve never wanted to because I thought that what I was doing was protecting myself. It didn’t matter if I was hurting you because in the end, I’d save us both from more heartbreak. But that day I realised, I wasn’t saving us from anything but more pain,” James took a deep breath. “Y/N, I’m in love with you. And I have been for a long time. Please, let me try to make things right between us.”

Y/N stood and analysed James in silence. His sincerity was written all over his shameful expression, desperate for her approval. He wanted nothing more than to make amends, a second chance to make up for the years he had lost to foolishness.

“James I-”

She hadn’t an idea of how to address him, or what to say. Could it work between them? The boy she had admired and the boy who hated her?

He waited anxiously, impatiently, tapping his fingers against his thighs.

“I’d like you to try,” she let out a breath as she spoke the words. “I’d like us to try,” she smiled.

James’ breath was trembling, but a wide grin spread over his lips as he took her in. Someone he had been so afraid of was so beautiful, so graceful, so forgiving. He stepped an inch closer, and could smell the hint of her perfume.

“Then, please, can I kiss you?”

He was quivering. Y/N only nodded, unable to voice her response in fear she would sound too eager. James was tentative, cupping her cheek in the palm of his hand. Y/N closed her eyes before he had reached her, nervous and waiting for a moment she thought would live only in a fantasy.

When James’ lips met hers, it was gentle but passionate, conveying every unspoken word between them in one simple, human gesture that mankind had designed to mean so much more.

tags 🏷️: @foolexby @jaeviii @velvetcloxds

taglist form!

#james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x fem!reader #james potter fic #james potter fanfiction #james potter angst #james potter #james potter fluff #marauders fandom #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #marauders x reader #marauders x y/n #marauders era #marauders era x reader #marauders era fanfiction #marauders era fic

526 notes · View notes

acourtofchaos · 2 months ago

Text

PRENDS MA MAIN | Regulus Black x F!Reader

summary: the Malfoy's spring ball, a startling betrayal, and a rivalry that just might become so much more when a certain grey eyed boy swallows his fear and follows you out of the ballroom and into the rain. [12K]

C/W: cheating (not from reader or regulus), a lil angst, lucius getting revenge for the reader but no scene including the actual act, emotional breakdown/mild panic attack, slightly defensive/mean reader at first, an actually horrendous amount of pining and one almost kiss

A/N: I'm definitely considering a part 2 (that will not be as long as this lmao) where we get that first kiss, so if that's something anyone would like to see, feel free to send me ideas for how their first kiss should go!!

song inspo: love story by indila

It was an awful thing to witness.

A terrible, sickening humiliation, because you had never thought there was reason to look deeper into their interactions together.

You had never believed you needed to think twice about how earlier in the night your boyfriend had looked almost dazed, eyes wide and lips parted, whilst you had descended the stairs towards him with her and Narcissa at your side.

His voice a soft rush, an awed murmur, for the compliments that had fallen from his mouth like flower petals.

There had been no second guess there either - whether his attempts at charm had ever been made for all of you at aIl and instead was just a way for him to compliment her without looking suspicious.

When you had swept arm in arm into the Malfoy’s spring ball, your gaze stolen away by the elegant vines that crawled the length of the walls and up onto the ceiling, housing bright leaves and flowers with pale petals that rained down in soft flutters, tiny glowing lights dancing between them, you had never considered that instead of sharing your awe, his gaze had been taken by her.

And you hadn’t thought anything of it when he’d asked her to dance after the hours had ticked by and he’d only danced once with you.

It was normal, wasn’t it? To dance with friends at these things - especially if they came without a date of their own.

You danced with Lucius all the time and even Barty and Evan on the rare occasion that they wandered over from their table, parting for a few moments from their sullen grey eyed friend that refused to have anything to do with you.

It didn’t mean anything.

Your boyfriend just didn't like the ‘sappy’ sounding music that often drew your wistful gaze to the dancefloor before one of your boys stepped in and offered their hand in his stead. He didn’t like the proximity with so many others watching, the public intimacy of it all.

In his own words, he simply wasn’t one for dancing or dances in general.

But then you’d been too distracted flitting between your friends to notice that one song had ended and another had begun, neither your boyfriend nor your friend returning as the music swelled through the room, softer than it had been previously, slower. Romantic.

It was Lucius who noticed first.

The direction of your friend’s gaze drifting lazily to somewhere beyond your shoulder before those grey eyes of his suddenly sharpened, the warmth in them morphing into something unfathomably colder, crueller, as he glowered at whatever had caught his attention.

Any hint of the slight, soft smile he’d held for you and the girl tucked against his side, gone, like such a light thing had never even existed in the Malfoy heir in the first place.

You didn’t notice until Narcissa registered the way her boyfriend had stiffened beside her and curiously followed his frigid stare, her own terrifying shift in expression and sharp intake of breath being what finally caught your full attention.

It made you forget about the story you had been telling, words trailing off slowly as your eyes flickered between them, brow pinched in a concern before you made to turn around so you could discover the cause of your friend's unhappiness.

It wasn’t exactly rare for Lucius’ mood to turn at the drop of a hat, for someone he didn’t like to cross his path and draw out that withering glare of his.

But for Narcissa to look so incensed too was something else entirely.

“What’s the matter - please don’t tell me it’s Lu’s lovesick stalker and her awful mother trying to convince your parents to break your engagement again. Honestly, it's just becoming a bit alarming now – oh–”

The sound that came out of you was weak. A pitiful noise like you’d been struck in the stomach mid-sentence and you hated it.

Despised the way something in your chest lurched and cracked, tears pricking at your eyes, as you caught sight of them.

They were swaying more than actually dancing. Chest to chest. Her arms wrapped around his neck, his around her waist, not an inch in between them.

But it was the way they were looking at each other was enough to make the sudden onslaught of nausea swirl unforgivingly in your gut. Soft. Starry-eyed. Sickeningly doting.

It looked like they were in love.

Like they had been for months, maybe even longer, and now that they were holding each other it was as if they couldn’t hide it or rather they didn’t care to since it seemed like no one else existed outside of the bubble they had encased themselves in.

Certainly not you or the dozens of other people that they were humiliating you in front of.

You wanted to vomit - prayed in your mind to any deity that would listen, magical or muggle, that you wouldn’t.

Were they truly so disgustingly infatuated with each other that they didn’t realise what they were doing or was it something worse than that, an even deeper betrayal because the both of them knew you.

They knew how you hated to cause a scene because it was so deeply ingrained in your being that emotional outbursts in the presence of others were undignified at best and an unforgivable display of weakness and vulnerability at worst.

Had they planned this because they thought they could count on your silence, your restrained calm - did they believe that it would save them from you?

Honestly, you weren’t too sure you could trust yourself no matter where your opinion on such public displays typically stood or that you knew the consequences from your parents would be severe if you embarrassed them in front of their peers.

There was too much of a searing rage coiling within your chest.

It mixed violently with every other emotion that was surging through you, the blood in your veins bubbling and spitting, your magic crackling with it, and the thought of drawing your wand and reducing their precious moment to cinders and ash grew more alluring with each passing second that they continued on unaware.

How had you been so fucking blind?

Had any of your friends noticed something you hadn’t and just not known how to tell you? Had others?

You watched the way he smiled at her as she laughed, bile rising in the back of your throat as the murmuring of something sweet made her chin tilt up and oh god, they wouldn’t.

They wouldn’t.

They would.

In a blink, his lips were on hers and then you were stumbling back, jaw clenched so tight you thought your teeth might shatter, desperate to choke down the horrified gasp that burned before it ached when it sank back down in your chest like a stone weight.

The fire that had been snaking itself around your too-fast beating heart sputtered and died out, swallowed up by the shock that seemingly drowned everything else with it and in its place, a terrible hollowness had been left. An overwhelming sense of nothing that you were completely unprepared to deal with.

Cold hands on your shoulders caught you before you could embarrass yourself further by tripping over the hem of your dress. And it should have made you feel better when you looked up to find Lucius staring down at you with a dark, livid gleam in his eyes.

A cruel look on his handsome face that told you he would stride over there right now, elegant even in his most wrathful state, and quietly interrupt the traitorous lovesick fools before leading your boyfriend away to another room.

Somewhere private, in another wing perhaps, where no one would hear the screams as he cast curse after curse. The unholiest ones he could imagine, if that was what you wanted.

It should have made you feel better when Narcissa’s gentle fingers wrapped around your wrist, the familiar touch soothing but not enough to stop you from feeling like you were drowning, her voice soft even if the words she directed at the figures still embracing in the middle of the dancefloor weren’t.

Instead, you hardly registered it when her tone grew worried, or when her boyfriend’s hands on your shoulders squeezed briefly to try and bring you back to yourself.

You didn’t really think about how it would look if you went rushing out of there instead of pretending everything was fine like you had always been taught to when things went wrong.

Head high, shoulders straight and expression schooled into the perfect image of cool indifference.

Above it all, as a pureblood should be.

No, all you could focus on was the sickly kind of heat that was rolling over you, creeping around your ribs and up your neck, the way you couldn’t see properly through the thickening gloss of tears, and the fact that no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t breathe.

Merlin, you just needed to fucking breathe.

So you tore away from your friends without another word, mumbling excuses and apologies that may or may not have made sense, unable to hear the way Narcissa called for you or how Lucius quietly told her to give you the time you needed to be alone when she tried to follow.

You ducked your chin and wove between tables with their crisp white cloths and intricate centrepieces, heels furiously clicking against the floor as your steps hurried you past guests that hovered at the edge of the dancefloor like vultures.

Their sharp stares tracking every misstep, every fumbled spin and weak lift, expressions gleeful and lips stained blood-red from the wine as they whispered poison into each other's ears.

And where once you wouldn’t have been able to resist saying something, resulting in a hand clapped over your mouth and a smooth apology offered by Lucius that no one could resist being charmed by, now you were just grateful that their attention wasn’t on you.

But someone’s was.

Grey eyes had been drawn to you from the very moment you wandered into the ballroom at the beginning of the night, breath hitching in a too tight chest at how beautiful you looked, stunning in a dress that was more like a work of art.

A divine thing that was all shimmering pearls and exquisite beading, material that spilled like water and floated around your feet as you walked.

The familiar boy had watched, mesmerised, as your own eyes glittered, sweeping over the decor with the kind of delight that made him wish he could capture it forever. Memorise in the depths of his very soul the mischievous smile that you couldn’t fully hide behind your hand whilst Narcissa whispered to you through the elder Malfoy’s welcoming speech.

Your quiet chuckle disguised beneath an awfully fake cough when Lucius’ stern but fond gaze fell on you both from where he stood beside his parents.

He wanted to hoard the soft expression you so rarely bestowed upon others but gave to your boyfriend who in a thousand lifetimes would never be worthy of it.

Never be worthy of you.

To curse the waste of space where he stood for being the one who got to revel in the warmth of it yet not appreciate how lucky that made him, for being the one who got to dance with you but never taking the opportunity beside the required first dance to do so.

For not being as sickeningly and hopelessly in love with you as anyone in their right mind should be, as he unfortunately was, ceaselessly jealous of his own friend when Barty had left his side to steal you away for the next dance.

Spinning you faster and faster, over and over again until you were breathless and flushed with laughter, head tilted back and shining brighter than all the stars in the night sky.

Instead he had settled for simply observing, stare cold and furious and deeply offended on your behalf, at how your boyfriend barely paid you the attention you deserved, how you maybe didn’t notice because your friends, whether intentional or not, were quick to make up for the thankless idiot’s failures.

He had found himself unable to look away when the other boy’s eyes shifted and brightened for someone who wasn’t you, ringed fingers tightening harshly around the glass in his hand when your boyfriend leaned and whispered into your ear, nodding towards the girl who was supposed to be a friend.

You’d smiled like you were warmed by the fact he’d wanted to step in and ensure she had a good time, completely trusting as you’d affectionately waved them off in the direction of the dancefloor before turning back to your conversation.

It felt like watching a train wreck.

That slow motion kind of disaster where waiting for the inevitable was almost as horrific as being stood in the middle of the smoking carnage at the end of it.

The next moments had come in flashes, barely there touches and lighthearted gazes that were respectful until they weren’t. A song change, something slow and sweet that drew them closer, tearing apart the pretence as if it had been crudely sewn with nothing more than flimsy honour and weak fealty.

The hands grew bolder as did the stares and then they were forehead to forehead, smiles pulling at their lips like their lack of loyalty and faithfulness wasn’t a disgrace.

Like they weren’t about to break something infinitely more precious than all the riches in gringotts with their betrayal.

He’d never felt dread like it when he watched you turn, your expression shaded with confusion before shock swept it away like a blank state, mouth dropping into a stunned little ‘o’ as understanding crept in and the hurt began to bloom.

The music sounded like the tinkling swell of a fairytale but this was a nightmare. A horror that didn’t seem to be planning on ending there as bodies sped past, couples twirling in blurs that briefly shielded but couldn’t ultimately hide the moment your boyfriend dipped his chin to meet the girl’s mouth with his own.

Rage flooded him, a foul, deep-seething hatred. Fuelled by the pain that twisted at his heart when you staggered back as if the ground had been swept from beneath you and suddenly he didn’t care quite so much about being the perfect son for his parents to parade around. Used to prove how much better his family was than the others there.

He didn’t even care that you hated him and that he’d spent far too long allowing you to believe he hated you too.

He just wanted to reach for you.

And when you strode out of the room, dress swishing violently around your legs and your head downturned to hide the tremble of your lips, the hot sting of tears that spilled over your lash line, Regulus Black didn’t hesitate before following.

****

The courtyard was cold and empty, shining wet in the light of the little glowing orbs floating around the grounds and smelling like the rain that was coming down in fat droplets when you burst out of the manor doors.

It made the soft colour of your dress grow dark in small, random splotches, hem dragging heavy and sodden over the ground as you struggled to march across the gravel in the direction of a large, almost obnoxiously pretty gazebo.

And when you finally stepped foot beneath the pale marble roof you were almost entirely soaked.

There was the soft pat,pat,pat of your hair dripping rainwater onto the floor as you stood there breathing harshly, the uncomfortable feeling of your gloves sticking to your skin. Cold and clinging.

But none of it mattered as much compared to how glad you felt that no one was around to witness the emotional spiral you were unable to talk yourself out of.

The grief and humiliation that felt like it had blended into a living, breathing entity. A savage beast that was trying with all its might to claw its way out of your heart, tearing through the meat of your lungs and shattering ribs as it ripped its way free.

And maybe you couldn’t kill it before it all became too much because you still hadn’t fully caught your breath yet, chest still heaving against that horrible cinching tightness as you paced.

Or maybe it was because the sight of the roses coiling around the columns of your newfound shelter reminded you of the ones currently encasing your neck and your wrist.

The ones he gifted you.

A matching necklace and bracelet that had felt wrong from the moment he had clasped them.

The wrong colour, the wrong flower, the wrong everything really.

All things your boyfriend should have known but you ultimately decided against mentioning to spare his feelings even when he cooed nonsense about “his favourite flower deserving to be adorned in her favourite flower” much to the approval of your parents that morning.

Even they didn’t know you well enough to realise, it had seemed.

You wondered if he knew what her favourite flowers were - if they were roses - if he bought the set with her in mind and just took the gamble that you would be no different.

The thought made the gifts feel like a dead weight.

A mountainous pressure around your throat and wrist that began to crush you slowly and then all at once until the chaos spilling through your head became too much and your fingers scrambled and tore at the metal.

Your steps halted as you fought and tugged against the clasp and then with a furious shout, you ripped the necklace from your throat. Ignoring the bright spark of pain that streaked across your skin as you flung the glittering jewels as far as you could into the nearby hedges.

The bracelet followed much the same way, yanked violently from your wrist as if it burned and tossed away for the rain and earth to tarnish and bury.

But still you didn’t feel any better, instead your mind refused to stop and went to the other things that reminded you of them.

The gloves and the earrings that you had picked out when she had been with you, the pins in your hair that she had offered to borrow you that just happened to perfectly match his gifts. The shoes… for salazar’s sake, was there anything that wasn’t tainted by them?

The dress, you had thankfully bought alone.

Small mercies.

The pins in your hair forced you to be more careful, more gentle than your rage demanded. And through the steady motions your heart eventually slowed that little bit, your tears along with it, both allowing your lungs to expand a little further with each shuddering breath you could then focus on taking.

Tiny pin pricks of relief lessened the panic that had you in chokehold as more and more shining roses clattered to the ground until your hair was completely free of them, your earrings soon following and disappearing out of sight as they bounced off the marble floor in opposing directions.

When you finally slipped off the gloves, grimacing slightly at the feel of wet material dragging along your skin before you dropped them away from you, you were still seething but too exhausted to keep up being truly murderous.

And too distracted with contemplating whether to just kick your shoes off and apparate home barefoot to hear the approach of someone that had been lingering nearby the entire time, their steps slow and careful like they were afraid to make too much noise lest you took off running once more.

“You know, I always thought that Lucius was the one with all the dramatic flair out of you three.” A familiar voice mused behind you, tone mild, as if they were discussing the changes in weather and not the fact it probably appeared like you were losing your damn mind. “But I can’t say I’ve ever seen him flee a party to undress in the rain when someone’s upset him.”

You took a deep breath and tried not to groan, tried not to curse out loud, because really how worse could your luck get that the last person you wanted to face right now was the one who had stumbled across you rapidly descending into madness.

Or maybe that was being too harsh.

He definitely wasn’t the last person, or even second to it, but the younger Black had been a thorn in your side for almost your entire life and you really couldn’t cope with him choosing now as an opportunity to needle you further.

You were already at a disadvantage after all, not only from the way he had managed to sneak up on you when you were vulnerable, but that when you turned around your breath stuck in your chest at the sight of him.

Because Regulus, as much as you were loath to admit it, was a heart-fumbling kind of pretty on a normal day but stood before you in that moment, lit only by the soft globes of light that lingered against the surrounding night, he was breathtaking.

All dark dress robes embroidered with swirling, golden vines and hair that fell in damp, messy curls around his face, soft strands stirring in the night air and illuminating those grey eyes that refused to leave yours for even a second.

You swallowed and the scowl that twisted at your expression was more of a blessed reflex than a genuine result of the ire that his presence ordinarily inspired.

“You almost sound disappointed.” You responded flatly, a low drawl that lacked its usual withering sting. “I could go back in there and get him for you if you’d like, I’m sure he’d be flattered to know that Narcissa isn’t the only Black interested in seeing what he looks like out of those boring suits he’s constantly wearing.”

He tsked, the noise lightly scolding as he leaned against a shining column. “And risk bringing the wrath of my darling cousin down on my head?” There was a typical air of cool arrogance to the boy as he trailed his fingers over coiling vines before flicking one of the light pink roses in disgust, but the way he softened his voice into a tease, all feigned betrayal and suffering, was new. “I had no idea you could be so cruel.”

Your lips twitched despite yourself, amused by this side of him regardless of your bad mood because he was smirking now, and that too was tinged softer, a mirthful tilt to it instead of the mocking edge you had grown so used to.

It was strange, endearing.

It was almost enough to make you forget the years you had spent finding ways to wipe any smirk he’d previously gave you off his face

Almost.

You rolled your eyes, incapable of resisting scoffing. “Narcissa is an angel, you just have a rather murderous effect on people.”

His smirk deepened at that, a quiet laugh crackling in the back of his throat like it was a sound he didn't make often and you could feel his eyes on you as you turned towards the manor, watching each quiet step that you took until you leaned against the pillar opposite his. Arms crossed protectively over your chest because it felt like the boy was trying his best to see right through you.

“Besides, if I was truly as cruel as you claim, there would be a Shakespearean tragedy currently taking place in the Malfoy’s ballroom,” you muttered with a half-hearted smile, attempting to sound light and failing terribly, “but unfortunately, as you can tell by the lack of screaming and the fact that I’m out here with you, there is not.”

There was a moment of silence, then two, nothing but the patter of rain and the sound of your heartbeat in your ears and you could have cursed yourself for being so open. For not being able to pretend you were incapable of being hurt just a little bit longer in front of someone that you were sure would delight in seeing you so weakened.

But then…

“Pity, it would have been well deserved.” Regulus spat viciously without thinking, tone dark and the pale highs of his cheeks tinting pink when you turned from the Manor to blink at him in surprise. He swallowed his venom back before it could rear again. A second of hesitation before admitting, softer than before. “I saw everything.”

Your stomach twisted. “Oh.”

The air grew thick with his confession, heavy and pressing in a way that made you feel suffocated, like you were trapped, pinned down and held hostage so he could observe every second of the reaction you had to his words down to the slightest twitch.

It brought that uncomfortable flush of panic back, the sickly drip of red-hot embarrassment sliding down your spine.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Regulus whispered, his gaze shifting away almost immediately after the words were out of his mouth, darting to anywhere but where you were as he fought with the nervousness of reaching out that metaphorical hand, the raw edge of vulnerability it inspired on both sides.

It made him oblivious to the way you were bristling.

The misinterpretation you had made of his intentions.

But then you were laughing. A dead, humourless sound that had his head snapping towards you, confusion marring his expression at the sudden coldness in your voice, your narrowed eyes that he found already glaring at him.

“So that’s why you're here, to get a closer look at my humiliation?”

He blanched. “No, of course n–”

“To gather some more intimate details to use the next time you’re failing to win one of our arguments?”

Regulus shook his head, hands almost reaching for you as he tried to say your name, soft and soothing, but you didn’t even seem to register it. Defences drawn too high, too quick, and accusations falling from your tongue faster than you could choke them back. Leaving a sour taste in your mouth. “Or maybe you just wanted to go in for the kill right here, easy prey and all that–”

Golden light hit you then, a small globe floating closer and illuminating the planes of your face that allowed him to catch sight of the way you looked, the hardened mask you had slipped on to protect yourself before someone else could hurt you. Lashing out on instinct before they even got the chance.

It was a tactic he knew all too well, and the familiarity made his heart twist.

His ribs constricting over the fact he knew just how badly you were suffering if you had resorted to needing to use it, that you felt you had to because you couldn't comprehend the situation ending any other way than you suffering more at his own hands.

“Is that what you really think?” Regulus interrupted bluntly, but it wasn’t angry, he wasn’t leaping at the chance to fight with you like you had expected either. Instead, he seemed resigned by the conclusions you had leapt to. Not surprised but pained by it all the same.

Or maybe you were just really fucking tired and seeing things, too exhausted to even know what to think anymore because tonight had already proven rather brutally that you couldn’t judge a person's character as well you thought you could.

You were cranky and uncomfortable in your too high heels and your rain-damp dress, uneasy with how the look on the boy’s face was enough to make you feel surprisingly awful. Like you had failed him somehow by assuming the worst.

You stared at each other from opposite sides of the gazebo, his expression resigned, yours wary, before you shrugged like it was obvious. “It’s not like either of us are in the habit of showing kindness or mercy, Black.”

“Maybe not, but I would never - not with this. I despise that you think that low of me.”

“Why?”

“Parce que je ne pourrais jamais te faire de mal, ni même vouloir te faire du mal, bien au contraire en fait.”

You gave him a strange look before glaring once again, more half-hearted than annoyed this time. “You cannot keep derailing our arguments by switching to French, it’s infuriating… and also cheating.”

Regulus ignored the complaint, huffing, but you swore you caught a glimpse of his lips faintly twitching upwards when he dipped his chin. “If you must know, I’m here because Cissa and Lucius were busy taking care of things in there and I thought that you could use someone, even if you didn’t want to talk and just needed somebody there, even if it was someone you hated.”

He swallowed hard and you couldn’t help but stare as his eyes rose to meet yours. “Even if it was just me.”

You let loose a shaky breath at that, chest warming before guilt began to seep its way in through the hollows between your ribs.

“I’m sorry.” You told him, voice hurting, before pressing the heels of your palms against your eyes in frustration because god, what was wrong with you? Attacking him for daring to try and offer some comfort despite all of your messy history, despite it going against his cold, reserved nature. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, of course I don’t think that.”

It hardly felt like enough of an apology to quell the shame you felt at your accusations but it eased the tension slightly. Enough that your walls began to tumble down, brick by crumbling brick, and defeat rose over them, mortifyingly accompanied by the burn of tears gathering in your eyes.

You withdrew before the boy could hopefully suspect, blinking rapidly once your back was turned, and the soft-click of your heels sounded deafening in the silence as you moved towards a small bench and allowed yourself to slump on to it.

“I feel like a joke,” you eventually confessed when you were sure your voice wouldn’t crack, “like there must have been people that knew the whole time and were watching me waiting for when the penny dropped so they could laugh at my ignorance, how blind I’ve been. How unbelievably fucking stupid to have fell for it all.”

“No.” He chastised and there was that sharpness in his voice again, that fire burning in his eyes as he strode over and knelt gracefully before you. “Don’t you dare blame yourself, don’t do them the kindness of relieving even a fraction of the guilt for a moment. They don’t deserve it.”

The hand that he gingerly placed on your knee was a little cold but gentle, his thumb skimming the arch of it in weightless, calming strokes, and you watched the boy with stuttering lungs and an ache in your heart as his stare dimmed. Slipping far away to a time years before.“I don’t think you’ve been blind, nobody expects betrayal from those who are supposed to be closest to us.”

You made a mournful sound of agreement to that, still a little sad for yourself, surprisingly more than a little upset for Regulus who you’d forgotten held the agony and jagged shards of a different kind of betrayal inside him.

But just as you were about to awkwardly lay your hand on his, to try and offer at least a fraction of the comfort he’d been trying to give you despite how difficult you made it, a new and terrible fear seeped into your mind.

“Did you ever suspect anything and feel like you couldn’t tell me because of our history?”

The boy glanced back up at you then, frowning as he searched your face, like he could find the cause of the sudden flare of fear in your voice there, before shaking his head. “I would have told you regardless, even if I thought you’d curse me for it, I would still have told you. So no, I didn’t suspect a thing.”

“You don’t have to lie if you did.” You whispered, still unconvinced. Still entirely too nervous that Regulus could turn on a whim and wound you further with more secrets. More lies.“I know you, Black, nothing escapes your notice, you watch everyone.”

“Maybe, but I think I'd rather let Bella's demonic owl claw my eyes out than choose to watch that idiot.” He scoffed, mildly indignant as he rose to sit beside you, and the loss of his hand on your knee as he did so made you feel colder than you were prepared for. “Especially when there are people far more interesting worth the time.”

“Oh– like who? Which poor soul has earned the delight of your relentless attention?” You joked distractedly, still staring at the place where you felt bare without his touch, confused by the soft buzz beneath your skin that was imploring you to reach across and take his hand and put it back.

“You.”

Your eyes widened, lips parting in shock, as your head snapped up to look at him and though for a moment Regulus looked discomforted, a little stunned himself as if he hadn't meant to let such an admission slip, he didn’t look away either.

Instead the silence stretched into a handful of seconds, a miniscule eternity, with both of you trapped in this new territory of raw, startling honesty by each other's stare as the rain pelted the roof of your marbled sanctuary.

And maybe it was catching.

Maybe it had struck a place you thought was suppressed too deep to be reached like a loosed arrow, because suddenly you found yourself with the insane urge to tell him, it isn't just you, I’ve caught myself watching you as well.

But then Regulus cleared his throat and schooled his expression back into a careful nonchalance, shrugging. "How else would I make sure my favourite rival hasn't finally figured out a way to best me again?"

“Ah, of course, merlin forbid I ever score one extra mark than you again in a few classes.” You attempted to laugh lightly but the sound came out strange, a little strained, a little more bitter than you could make sense of.

Salazar fucking help you, this was madness.

You really needed to go home.

To leave and let yourself process everything that had happened like a sane person instead of whatever this was that you were doing or, even better, to sleep for a week so you could ignore the inevitable questions that would come with morning.

Your parents and their suffocating disappointment that would be heaped upon your shoulders, like you being publicly cheated on was somehow a cause of shame for them.

Maybe you could just obliviate yourself to avoid it all entirely.

There was still the faint sting of betrayal prickling behind your ribs but it had softened considerably, cushioned surprisingly by the presence of the boy sitting beside you.

And you found that if there was a choice between this messy and awkward attempt at comfort, at peace between you however temporary, or the cold loneliness of your room where your thoughts could easily eat you alive once you were trapped with them, then you didn't want to leave him just yet.

Especially not when you felt like you were discovering so much about the youngest black who notoriously kept everything close to his chest, not when you found yourself liking this side of him that he was allowing you to see.

Not even when a cold wind swept around the gazebo and in the spaces between you, whipping up frigid droplets of rain that latched onto your skin and felt like they were biting down into your bones.

You startled whilst Regulus cursed, a shocked laugh bubbling up from your throat when you caught sight of him wiping the wetness away from his face with a look of terrible, personal offence.

It made those grey eyes snap to yours, staring a little oddly, almost far too intensely, but you didn't get the feeling that he was angry at you laughing at him as you would have expected.

It was more like he'd been surprised by the sound of it, like your laugh was something he'd never heard before and he needed that moment or two to understand what he was hearing.

Not that that was actually the case, but Regulus would likely hex himself before he ever told you otherwise.

He would never tell you that he knew full well what your laughter sounded like, that the faint wisps of it he had only ever caught from afar were wrapped in coils around his ribs and haunted his heart. That he knew it well but only at a distance, and never when he was the cause of it.

Not until now at least, where the sound of it had caused something so violently fond to bloom in his chest that it had rendered breathless. Stunned.

He would never tell you that perhaps, from that moment, with rain water still clinging to his cheek and your joy echoing in his ears, he had finally known what his favourite sound in the world was and that nothing else could ever possibly compare.

And maybe he was still just that little bit bewildered when the first shiver overtook you. It had only been a small thing after all, barely strong enough to make your hands quake and sweeping only the faintest of goosebumps up your arms.

Easily missed.

But then the second came on with a vengeance and your trembling snapped him straight out of the trance he had been caught up in, snagging his attention only seconds after it had the chance to begin and making his brows pinch in the middle with concern.

A soft noise of disapproval escaping his parted lips before he began swiftly, and elegantly, shrugging the jacket of his dress robes off.

“You're freezing,” Regulus muttered, the sound of it only vaguely exasperated like he was biting his tongue to stop himself from questioning just how you had beaten him at all last year but didn’t have the brains to wear a coat before barging out into the rain. “take this.”

You couldn't even argue with him.

You weren't allowed the chance before the boy was reaching for you and slipping it far more gently than you expected around your shoulders, wrapping it over the unsteady rise of your chest when your breath caught at his closeness, and then you were too busy being engulfed in the smell of him to summon much of a protest.

Too distracted as you breathed him in.

It was a light and clean scent, a little woodsy. The layer beneath it all something that you couldn't quite give a specific name to, but you would know it anywhere, knew without really understanding how you did, that it belonged only to Regulus.

Not that that meant anything.

It didn't.

Did it?

No, absolutely not.

But his hands were still clasping the jacket when he realised you were frozen in an entirely different sense, staring at him silently like you were trying to figure a puzzle out and had no clue where to begin.

As if he could sense it, his eyes flicked up to yours just as he began to let go and then suddenly he…couldn't.

Or rather, it felt impossible to because there was a dangerous effect to what he had just done that he hadn't considered when your shivering had brought something protective out of him.

Getting so close to you, wrapping you up in his jacket that made you look too comfy the second it enveloped you, too perfect despite how strange it looked with your dress.

Too much like you were his.

It had his heart misbehaving wildly behind his ribs, his throat bobbing as he prayed to anyone that would listen that you couldn't hear the erratic pounding of it that felt deafening to his own ears.

You couldn't.

You were too caught up in your own, too caught up on the fact that Regulus had discovered you blatantly staring at him and was now staring right back at you like he was waiting for you to say something, do something. Anything at all.

It should have felt embarrassing.

It should have felt wrong to be letting yourself act like this. To be entertaining whatever delusion this was, because merlin, you had already been hurt once tonight and allowing yourself to be thoughtless and soft, unguarded, around Regulus Black of all people felt a lot like you were begging to be hurt again.

But his face was only inches from yours. His hair a little wild from the wind, the rain that stubbornly clung to it, and when a drop fell from one of the dark curls above his brow onto the arc of his cheek, looking far too much like a tear for your liking, you had been unable to help yourself.

A little enraptured by the sight of your own fingers rising to gently wipe it away, the feel of his soft, warm skin beneath your touch and the sight of Regulus’ grey eyes widening before they helplessly fluttered shut.

For a second neither of you moved.

You let your hand linger, let your fingers twitch so they brushed against him once more in the barest ghost of a touch whilst Regulus swallowed. Fighting against clasping your hand in his own and holding it there, pressing it deeper into his skin until the feel of it had no choice but to linger long after you left him.

His name was a soft weight on your tongue begging to fall, an airy sigh that was maybe more of a question than a statement. The kind where you weren't quite sure what you were asking but you were helpless to stop yourself from asking it anyway, and even the rain seemed to have fallen quiet like it wanted you to say it.

The world around you going hush like it was giving you a chance to see something important.

But then, the thunder came.

A loud, rolling grumble that slammed down on that pull you felt and made you flinch and pull back as Regulus’ eyes snapped open. That coaxed the rain to fall harder, closer to a downpour than a mere spring shower, and the sound of it felt an awful lot like sanity crashing its way back in.

It forced you to look away towards the manor just so you wouldn't have to look at him. Glaring through the rain at the looming structure like it was at fault that your head was in chaos, like it had everything to do with your cheeks being far too warm and the confusion simmering in your chest.

The panic you felt that the boy beside you might see something you weren't ready for him too, something you weren’t ready to realise had possibly taken root within yourself despite years of surety that you felt the opposite.

“We should go in.” You grumbled, forcing your voice to sound normal in a way that you didn't feel, but goddammit you were determined to get through the night without embarrassing yourself further. “Before Cissa sends Lu to look for us, he'll be furious if we make him get his hair wet.”

There was a pause after you spoke and you could feel Regulus looking at you, waiting for you to say something else.

It felt like he was gauging whether or not you were going to acknowledge what had just happened or maybe he was thinking of doing it himself , but either way, in the end he seemed to quietly decide to offer you the grace to hide by ignoring it just like you were.

Allowing a soft snort escape him instead, followed by a light mutter that made your lips quirk despite yourself.

“And what a tragedy that would be.”

Relieved, you merely shook your head in response, warning. “You're joking now but the last time I messed with Lucius’ hair, he turned mine green for a month.”

Regulus made a rather inelegant noise at that, a choked sounding thing that told you he was struggling not to laugh.

“That was the reason for your so-called rebellious phase in fifth year? Well it could have been worse, I suppose.” He snickered, hands raising in a mock defensive gesture when you whipped your head in his direction to shoot him a withering look. “If it makes you feel any better, when we were children, Cissa once got so mad that she hexed me and made me completely orange.”

You were unable to help the bright shock of laughter that burst from the back of your throat before you could smother it behind your hand at the thought of a surly, bright orange Regulus. “What the hell did you do?”

He had the audacity to look, for a moment, a little scandalised. That familiar haughty look gracing his sharp features as he huffed but his gaze glinted ever so slightly, mirthful. “I never said I had anything to do with it, did it ever occur to you that maybe I was simply caught in the crossfire?”

You just grinned and rolled your eyes, because whilst the entire world seemed to believe the youngest black was above or incapable of causing trouble, you knew better. “Not in the slightest.” You admitted breezily.

“Rude.” Regulus chastised, frowning, or at the very least attempting to because the moment you rose a challenging brow at him in response, his mouth tilted up at one corner. “Fine, honestly, I don't even remember. I just know it took my mother going to my aunt to get Cissa to remove it because everything she tried to undo it wouldn't work.”

You tutted. “See, I told you, you just have a maddening effect on people.”

“Actually,” he laughed softly, still quiet but more easily than he had before, and the sound of it was enough to make something golden rush through because Regulus Black, of all people, apparently had the most beautiful laugh you had ever heard. “I believe the term you used was murderous, or is this just your way of saying you're warming up to me.”

“Don't get too ahead of yourself.” You deadpanned. “It differs from moment to moment.”

“I'd be disappointed if it didn't.” He told you, eyes gleaming. “I rather enjoy that savage little look of yours when I get beneath your skin, I'd hate for it to be gone entirely.”

You were a little flustered, both at his words and the way he was looking at you, the lingering effect of his laugh still buzzing beneath your skin.

You wanted to say something snarky, to ruffle him as he had so easily done to you, but then the wind was blowing strands your hair across your face that you had to impatiently push away, and suddenly your hand was being caught in the hold of Regulus' careful fingers.

The contact made you startle, made you glance at him with wide, stunned eyes but the boy wasn't even looking at you as you did so, at least not at your face anyway.

His attention had instead been captured on the scuffed skin of your wrist. A patch that was torn and sore looking, beaded with dry blood where metal flowers had caught and snagged like thorns.

Concerned eyes rose briefly to yours before they deliberately dropped straight back to the wound and though he didn’t say anything, you could tell that he wanted to.

Instead, Regulus settled for a lightly admonishing click of his tongue as his hand slipped down yours until he could hover his thumb over the rough skin.

You tried to keep your expression neutral despite the way your heart had become a thunderous thing as he ghosted over it once and then again, just shy of true contact, the imitation of a caress that made you more breathless than you cared to admit.

But when he lowered it close enough that there was barely a hairs-width of space between your skin and his, close enough that you expected the pain of him pressing against it, you couldn't help the soft, surprised sound that bubbled out of your throat at the soft rush of magic you felt instead.

It was a cool thing.

Not cold enough to chill but soothing, like the first relieving, gentle sweep of a breeze on a too warm day, as light as whisper, and you watched enraptured at the pale glow that hummed between your skin and his.

The way it made your flesh knit and become smooth once more before your very eyes until all that was left was the tiny specks of dried blood clinging to your skin.

He finally touched you then, rubbing his thumb gently over your wrist until the red cracked and flaked away.

“Do I need to be concerned that there's anywhere else you're slowly bleeding to death from and refusing to tell me?”

You stared at him, dumbfounded, speechless. “Now who's being dramatic… but no, you'll have to find some other way to show off I'm afraid.” You murmured, only half serious when you recovered from the surprise and pinned him with an offended glare. “You never told me you could do wandless magic.”

“And deny myself the pleasure of seeing the expression on your face when you discovered it for yourself? Never.” Regulus smirked, looking far too proud of himself as he carefully placed your hand back in your lap before reaching for the cufflinks gleaming against the dark fabric of his shirt.

You huffed at that. Still somewhat bewildered though amused, and rather a little bit charmed, though you would never admit it. “What are you doing now?”

His gaze shone at you, eyes bright and knowing whilst nimble fingers slipped the cufflinks free until they clinked together in the palm of one pale hand. “Showing off.” Regulus drawled.

You didn't know how to reply to that in a way that wasn't teasing, that didn't have at least a tiny little bite to it with the intention of getting a rise out of the boy who had effortless control around everybody but you.

But you didn't want to fight, you didn't want a war of intelligence when an already exhausting night had led to something softer between you, something easier to breathe around, so you said nothing.

And besides, you were way more interested in what he had planned.

With curiosity sparkling in your veins like a champagne fizz, you watched as Regulus cupped his free hand over the other.

His gaze met yours, brows lightly furrowed and lips parted in concentration, when that same pale glow began to leak through the spaces of his clasped hands, steady, searching, as it flared brighter and brighter until it seemed as if the boy had raised a hand towards the night sky and scooped up a star to hold between his trembling fingers.

A small eternity seemed to pass whilst you were caught within that moment, the one where your breath hitched as his magic reached toward you again, strong enough this time to feel like you were connected to him through it.

And you had to wonder if he felt it too when Regulus offered you a smile that seemed so stripped down of its typical refinedness, so shy almost, that something in your chest ached with it.

It felt like it had been hours rather than seconds when that cool light finally dimmed, receding until the two of you were left with only the soft, twinkling orbs to illuminate you once more.

You missed it almost immediately, a chill taking its place that felt more than skin deep. You nearly embarrassed yourself by saying as much before Regulus slowly lifted his hand and what lay within his palm had you choking on air. Flustered and stunned.

Because where his cufflinks once were now lay a bracelet and a necklace, the chains thin, elegant and lovely. A small, exquisitely crafted flower hung at the centre of both, nestled between leaves that were delicate enough that they didn't crowd, that they only embellished the true beauty of the pieces.

It was a little ridiculous how they had made you gape at him, how your eyes misted at the sight of them and something tightened in your throat, your unsteady chest.

But how could you not when they were so perfect, what other way could you react to them being your favourite colour, your favourite flower, your favourite everything.

And here was Regulus Black, the person you thought had hated you for as long as you could remember, conjuring them for you because he knew.

You whispered his name and he swallowed hard, cheeks warming at the way you looked at him as if he had given you the stars, at the way he had lay a part of himself bare with the gesture and you had understood immediately.

That you knew now without a doubt that Regulus was not lying when he had told you he watched you.

He himself had given you the proof.

He waited for you to say something. For you to brush the whole thing off with a joke or a tease, that little voice in his head that told him this was a horrendous idea, whispering that he might have well shown you his throat for you to rip him apart, but it seemed for the first time in his life like he had disarmed you entirely.

It was perhaps, the softest he had ever seen you, the most human, no walls drawn high or a perfect facade worn like a veil over the real you.

You were wide eyed and cautious, every emotion visible on your face as your hand rose to reach for his own, stopping just shy of touching like you were afraid if you did the moment would crack and crumble. Nothing more than another cruel illusion.

It made him want to take your hand in his, to link his fingers between yours as the chains pressed into both your palms and assure you that this was real. Refusing to allow that insecurity to grow any further.

He didn't. He wasn't that brave enough just yet.

Instead, with a voice that sounded as nervous as you looked, cracking just that little bit whilst he lifted his hand towards you, he asked, “May I?”

The question made something bloom behind your ribs, a soft, wild thing that made your heart beat a little too unruly and your blood pulse with light.

You nodded, unable to trust the strength of your voice, and then you were turning for him. Shaky hands lifting your hair out of the way as Regulus moved closer, almost enough that you could feel the movement of his body as he breathed when he leaned into you, cool metal landing gently between your collarbones and his fingers upon the back of your neck.

You sucked in a sharp breath when the soft buzz you had felt before at his touch returned tenfold and he immediately mistook the sound for discomfort. “I'm sorry–” he whispered, feeling foolish as he winced. “I know my hands are cold–”

“No– no, they're fine, it's not that at all, I l–”

Merlin, no, stop.

You could feel heat searing your cheeks, creeping down the slope of your neck, and you prayed that Regulus couldn't feel it. That he hadn't caught on to the fact you had nearly slipped up and told him you liked how his hands felt on you.

There was silence after that as Regulus fastened the clasp, not an uncomfortable one but restless almost, charged.

It made the air crackle and fizz, made it feel all too warm despite the rain and thunder crashing around the gazebo as you turned before he could shuffle back. Bodies suddenly closer than either of you knew how to be normal about, faces even more so.

You couldn't look away even when his eyes dropped, dark lashes fluttering, skimming over pale skin when he blinked once, twice, a third time, as if he was willing away the intensity that had been burning within them.

He reached for your hand without another word, the bracelet that had been resting upon his leg now circling around the delicate expanse of your wrist and as he bowed his head to concentrate, a familiar song spilled out from the manor door.

It slipped across the grounds and swirled into the air around you, settling over your skin and sinking down deep into your chest. Making your heart clench, your eyes falling closed.

“I’ve always loved this song.” You murmured before you could help yourself, tone wistful. A little heavy with longing. “I used to plead with him to dance with me when it came on but he never did. Said it embarrassed him because it was too romantic and made him look soft. He was furious when I danced with Barty to it.”

“I remember that.”

Your eyes snapped open. “You do?”

Regulus nodded, though his stare remained on the bracelet's fastening, messy curls bobbing with the movement.“It’s the happiest I’ve ever seen you. Lucius had been spinning both you and Cissa around the dancefloor and when that song started, Barty immediately stepped in when he saw your boyfriend wouldn’t and Lucius spun you straight into him.”

You could see it all, exactly as Regulus described.

Another extravagant ballroom, another shimmering dress, your body being guided across the floor by one of your best friend's instead of your boyfriend. The only thing that you were missing was him.

The boy who had watched it all without you ever even realising.

And so you listened, entranced, your breath held among the branches in your lungs without meaning to as he continued. As he secured the bracelet around your wrist but couldn't quite convince himself to let go of your hand.

“I think the smile you gave him when he caught you made him fall in love just a little.” He teased, chin tilting up so he could look at you, the edges of his pretty mouth curling into an unbidden smile like he couldn't help himself. “But it was nothing compared to your laugh, the way it filled the room with something warm and real and made everything brighter.”

Salazar help you, you were pretty sure your heart was about to combust.

Regulus paused and frowned then, grey eyes growing stormy for just a moment. “And then that bastard ruined it by pouting the rest of the night, Barty wanted to kill him for it.”

There was something about the way he said it, how his tone dipped low, dark, ice creeping in beneath his words, that made you wonder if Barty hadn't been the only one with murderous intent towards your boyfriend that night. The only one who had felt soft on you in the moments before it had all been tarnished.

It made something pure rush through your veins at the thought. Made you feel suddenly bolder, braver than you had been earlier.

“So you really weren't bluffing about watching me, were you? You've remembered my favourite flowers, my favourite song, and that I can’t get my own boyfriend to dance with me.” You began, voice calm, quiet, as you drew soft lines along his fingers with your own.

The touch had Regulus’ eyes falling to your joint hands.

Surprise briefly etching itself over his features like he hadn't even realised he had never let go, and when his gaze darted back up to yours he waited quietly for what came next, breath hitching his chest, as he watched you like you were dangerous.

You licked your lips, a readying gesture that the boy's stare helplessly followed, his fingers tightening around yours before you took the plunge. “Care to let me in on how all of this is supposed to aid you against me? It doesn't really seem like the ‘destroy your rival’ kind of information.”

He hummed, nonchalant about it despite the way his cheeks had turned a rather endearing shade of pink. “Maybe that's the point, information that appears innocent can sometimes be the most effective in helping achieve what you want.”

“And what do you want, Regulus?”

He was quiet for a handful of seconds at that, thoughtful.

His eyes flickering between yours, over every inch of your face, and then slowly he pulled back and stood. Ensuring that your hand never once left his as he placed himself in front of you and bowed like the proper gentlemen he had been raised to be.

“Dance with me.” He murmured.

Oh.

You couldn't deny that you were caught off guard by the question, by the strange turn of events and the way the boy was looking down at you. At the crooked little smirk he suddenly bore that was a touch playful and all challenge, his stare twinkling with it.

But even more so, you were captivated.

It made you huff out a disbelieving laugh and then you were narrowing your eyes, feigning suspicion as you pretended to look him up and down. “I don’t know, this feels like a trap.”

“Does it?” Regulus mused, the quirk of his lips morphing into a slow smile. “Don’t tell me you're intimidated by me now.”

You snorted. “Shaking in my heels, I may even faint.”

The words came out sarcastic but hardly biting, full of a more friendly kind of taunt, and when he scoffed and grinned down at you, you were already beaming back. Eyes bright and lovely, soft with new, unfurling affection.

It was the kind of smile that made his heart race. The kind that told him if he held your hand that little bit tighter and gave a small, gentle tug, you would follow the pull until you were on your feet and in his arms.

So he did.

And then he was holding you.

Regulus was gentle with it as his hand placed your own upon his shoulder, the other curving slowly over your waist, a brief moment of indulgence before it slid upwards to rest perfectly against the centre of your back.

He pulled you in further once he was satisfied with your positions, far closer than the dance required or was deemed proper, but he was past caring about rules at that moment and what everyone else expected of him. Concerned only with how your proximity made his head spin and the way you were smiling at him like you knew.

“See, not so terrifying after all.” Regulus teased.

And before you could retort, he was leading you in small, elegant steps. Amusement flaring in his eyes and a slightly self-satisfied twitch to his lips when you startled and clung to him tighter before your muscle memory kicked in.

You shot him a half-hearted glare in response, nose scrunching to hide the way there was laughter bubbling up in your throat, threatening to break free. Airy and delighted.

It continued like that for barely a minute until your steps became more elaborate, until the gazebo felt too small for the way Regulus wanted to sweep you off your feet. To move freely with you, completely unhindered, and spin you over and over until you came beautifully alive in his arms.

He barely gave you any warning before he did it, just a brief glance of those pretty, grey eyes to the storm raging outside and then he was dragging you into the thick of it.

Your shocked laughter only slightly muffled by the downpour of rain as he held you tight and twirled you both across slick stones that crunched beneath your feet and perfectly manicured lawns with their gorgeous rows of blooming flowers. The glimmering light of the enchanted orbs making you both shine.

It felt like a fairytale, a dream you didn't want to wake up from which was surprising given how it had all started.

But now all you cared about was that this beginning felt like the most magical thing in the world, that with Regulus’ laughter rumbling from his chest to your own and his chin dipped to watch you with a smile that rivalled the sun, you were infinitely happier than you had been in a long time.

And as the song reached its crescendo he lifted and spun you until you were both breathless, dipped you until your hair was brushing the damp ground and the most glorious sounds spilled from your lips. The pure joy that he had heard long ago and cherished in secret until now, where he got to bask in being the sole cause of it himself.

When it ended you felt dazed, euphoric. Your bodies were closer than before, arms wound around Regulus’ neck and his hands holding you tight, pressing flush to your back to mold you against him. Each heaving breath was taken with you chests moving together and your cheeks felt as hot from the exertion of it all as his looked.

You were drenched, hair plastered to your faces but the air between you held that familiar tension, something electric. Heavy with anticipation as he leaned closer, his nose nudging your own.

His voice was a low rasp when he murmured your name, a lovely, tortured sounding thing that made you shiver as he drew a hand up your back and along the curve of your neck until he could cup your jaw.

Your brain short-circuited at the touch, lips parting in response and your fingers curling desperately into the collar of his shirt like that alone would stop you from falling if Regulus threatened your ability to remain upright any further than he already was.

You had a sneaking suspicion that he planned on it.

That the way his eyes had gone dark beneath the full fan of his lashes, the way they flickered from your own down to your lips and lingered just a beat too long, meant that Regulus full-heartedly considering kissing you right then.

And maybe what was even worse for your sanity, was that you suspected that you wanted him to as well.

But then, as if waking from a daze or the heavy influence of a spell, Regulus shook his head. Something pained flashing across his features as he gently let you go and stepped back.

“Tu n'as aucune idée à quel point je veux t'embrasser.” He whispered hoarsely. Voice thick with guilt and restrained longing. “Mais je ne peux pas. Je ne veux pas vous brusquer ou profiter.”

You frowned. Not quite upset, because there was no malice in Regulus’ actions, but a little confused. More than a bit curious as you fought against the urge to reach for him again and opened your mouth to–

“As lovely I'm sure the conversation you're having is,” a drawling voice interrupted, calling out effortlessly above the noise of the storm, “if I have to come out there to retrieve either of you, I will personally see to it that your own storm clouds follow you around at every waking moment for the next month.”

The threat came, unsurprisingly, from none other than Lucius who stood beneath the wide doorway to the manor with Narcissa at his side. Both of their gazes regarding you far too closely and matching smirks tugging at the corners of their mouths like they had stumbled across something scandalous.

You rolled your eyes before you turned to them both, expression torn slightly but fond as you looked between them and him before starting to make your way over whilst Regulus followed quietly at your back. “Only the waking moments? You're losing your touch, Lu.”

“It's called leniency, darling.” Your best friend muttered, his stare sharp on the jacket that was hanging off your frame, the way Regulus didn't think as he held his hand out to help you over the pebbled walkway and you took it without hesitation. “I can afford to show a bit of mercy now I've expelled some anger elsewhere.”

The warmth of the manor enveloped you as you stepped inside, and Lucius let out a sound at the sight of you now you were in full light that was half mothering concern, half admonishing, before sauntering over to stand in front of you.

He withdrew his wand, murmuring a spell to dry you off whilst Narcissa did the same for her cousin. Smooth fingers caught at your chin before he turned your head this way and that, inspecting for injuries or signs of distress, both old and new, the possibility of fresh tears caused by the boy who had been known to be cruel to you before.

“You're okay?” He asked, voice stern, cool but not uncaring, and there was a flicker of relief in his eyes when you nodded honestly. “Good, we've had enough tragic medical emergencies for one night and I don't think Cissa would be happy with me if I cursed a member of her family.”

You laughed faintly, astounded by how the night had turned out, but affection flooding warm in your chest for your friends regardless. “My insincere condolences for those harmed, and yeah, I'd be careful with our lovely Narcissa, I've heard she's fond of turning people orange and that it's almost irreversible.”

From the corner of your eyes you saw the way Lucius' brows raised at your comment, the way his gaze snapped questioningly to his girlfriend, who scoffed and muttered a betrayed sounding ‘tell-tale’ at the dark-haired boy beside her.

Your attention for the most part, however, was upon Regulus and though his head was downcast, you could tell that he was smiling. Lips twisting and teeth biting into his cheek to hide his amusement at the joke you had made for him.

And when your two friends had finished their fussing, Narcissa touching up your makeup and hair with an expert flick of her wand, a warm, affectionate kiss laid upon your cheek for extra support as Lucius teasingly advised you both that wearing your own clothes upon reentering the ballroom was probably best unless you wanted to invite whispers, they shared a look between them.

A small, glancing, thing that held a conversation you weren't privy to but you were a hundred percent sure was about you, given the way their eyes flickered briefly over both you and Regulus before they decided to walk ahead instead of beside you.

There was comfort between you and your old rival as you approached the room, a newfound ease to being around each other that made walking back into a potential hell, depending on just how discreet Lucius and Cissa had been in their revenge, that much more bearable.

But there was also that undercurrent of tension still crackling beneath it all, the weight of everything that had transpired between you. A dissolving rivalry and conjured jewellery, a dance that had meant everything and an almost kiss that had left you shaken and breathless with how badly you had wanted it.

Your fingers brushed his when you heeded Lucius’ words and handed the jacket back to him, lingering for a moment too long to be anything but deliberate, and it looked like it physically pained Regulus to pull away.

To slip back on a jacket that now smelled like you and not grasp your hand in his after he'd become enamoured with how right it had felt holding it.

“You cheated again by the way.” You whispered after a moment, eyes still ahead, and just loud enough for him alone to hear when the silence finally grew too much, when you realised belatedly that you missed the sound of his voice.

He glanced at you inquisitively then, brow raising and a teasing, faux exasperation hidden in the way he asked. “How so?”

“When we almost k– before we were interrupted.” You huffed, refusing to look at him because you could feel from the heat of his stare that even a near mention of your almost kiss had Regulus’ eyes dropping distractedly to your mouth. “You spoke French again, it's an unfair advantage.”

He laughed at that, low in his throat as he shook his head. Slowing his pace just that little bit as you drew nearer to the ballroom doors, eager to draw this out just a few moments more. “Just because you find me charming doesn't necessarily mean I'm cheating, ma chérie.” He murmured, leaning into you until his shoulder nudged yours, a touch smug.

It may not have been, he was right, but it was hardly fair the way it made your heart play up, the way something in your stomach flipped when he got a little bit cocky with it but salazar help you, two could play at that game if the boy suddenly wanted to tease.

“It does when you use it to tell me about how you don't want to take advantage, don't you think?” You asked innocently, biting your lip as you fought not to laugh at the way Regulus whipped his head around to stare at you. Disbelief blatant as you sighed, “I mean, you have to know that the whole French thing is pretty hard to resist, so that was just mean.”

He was speechless, lips parted and eyes wide, like you'd completely titled his world from its axis, like he was seeing you in an entirely new light. Bewildered when you came to a stop outside the large, ornate doors and finally looked at him, your grin glowing as you leaned in close just like he had and whispered.

“If you don't want someone to understand you, maybe choose a person who doesn't have at least one best friend that isn't related to you that also has French lineage.”

Regulus let out a quiet curse at that, glaring briefly at the back of the blonde boy's head who stood in front of him. He barely had the chance to offer a smart retort by the time the doors were swinging open, music spilling out and the sound of chatter, the flurry of dancers twirling across the floor, becoming overwhelming.

Lucius and Narcissa entered first, sweeping in like they had never left, like nothing had changed, and then you were next. Your eyes on his and a playful smile curving at your mouth as you backed into the room, almost daring him to follow after you despite what everyone would say.

He wanted to.

He wanted to march after you and gather you up in his arms again, he wanted to kiss you senseless until you melted against him, all slow heat and unguarded adoration that made you forget you had ever received anything less and actually believed yourself deserving of it.

But he couldn't.

Not now.

Especially not when you saw his hesitation and drifted back to him, close enough that only he could hear you but not enough to draw the attention of those with hungry stares that loved to cause problems for others.

You kept your voice soft, your touch even softer as your fingers lightly grazed his own in a sweet gesture that made any tension he held immediately melt.

And he prayed he didn't look as lovesick as he felt when you told him, “I would have kissed you without feeling any pressure by the way, but thank you, for caring enough not to rush me.”

He was happy to wait.

To be nothing more than a friend, a comfort at your side whilst the aftermath of tonight played itself out and you took the time to process what had happened.

To deal with the fallout that came with two high society families feuding because one of the families’ sons had committed a humiliating slight that would absolutely need to be dealt with.

Whilst you grieved properly and healed the way you needed to, without hurry or expectation, for as long as it took.

An eternity if need be.

And then, if you still wanted him to, Regulus would kiss you.

He'd kiss you until you knew without a shadow of a doubt how deeply you were loved by the boy who knew your heart and cherished it as it was.

#regulus black x reader #regulus black x you #regulus black #regulus black fluff #regulus black fanfiction #regulus black fanfic #marauders era #slytherin skittles #regulus x you #regulus x reader #regulus black x y/n #marauders era fanfiction

388 notes · View notes

blondejellykitty · 6 months ago

Text

₊♡ ˚⊹ a quiet love ₊♡ ˚⊹

୨୧ james potter x shy!reader ୨୧ not all love was like the movies portrayed them, but that doesn't mean it isn't good a/n: (1.9k words) happy valentines day!

Honestly you two getting together shocked everyone, even James himself was surprised you agreed to date him. You both were polar opposites, he was loud and outgoing while you were quiet and shy.

You both did have things in common though, like your kind hearts, your infectious humor and your Transfiguration class. Which coincidentally was how you both met.

You'd been failing behind on the assignments and Professor McGonagall assigned James to tutor you just until your grade rose a little higher.

You both agreed to meet at the far back upper level of the library. You were so sure he would bail. It wasn't hard to hear about James Potter and his troublemaker friends around school. But he'd showed up, on time and with a set of notes and books for you both to look over.

Everytime you think back to those early study sessions you cringe at your past self. It would've been easier to talk to a startled turtle. The most you said was a swift 'see you later' once the session had ended.

But that never deterred James. If anything it seemed to push him to get past your walls. He was nothing but patient and kind while explaining the Flobberworm to Fritter incantation all the way to explaining the Bird-Conjuring Charm and everything in between.

Eventually you did warm up to him. Your quiet word responses turned to shy short sentences. Then by the time you were passing Transfiguration with flying colors you and James were able to laugh and joke together.

Once the study lessons were over, he invited you to Hogsmeade with him the following weekend. No one had ever tried asking you before and you'd only gone there once with the second year tour, so you were very excited to go, and with such a good-looking boy too. You were over the moon!

The weekend trips became a regular every two week deal between you both. As well as Friday afternoons you both would study in your old spot in the library together.

After a few months of this sweet routine, one Friday the library was cleaned as someone threw a smoke bomb or three inside, which stained the walls and floors with multicolored powder. James had sworn to you it wasn't him but you caught that gleam in his eyes and shook your head in dismay.

He'd offered to study in his dorm, he said him and his friends found a way to disenchant the staircase when they needed to, you chose not to think too hard on the reason why.

He'd led you to the Gryffindor common room which unsurprisingly was styled in red and gold. You both passed fellow students sitting in the red couches that were placed around the fireplace, and past the students sat by the tall windows at desks. Thankfully both groups of your peers were engrossed in their gossip or studies to pay attention to the rule breaking happening in front of them. Or maybe they were used to James breaking the rules.

James flicked his wand and the winding staircase shimmered a silver colour and he ushered you up quickly. As you reached the top of the stairs you were met with a long hallway with two brown doors, one on each side. You looked back and the stairs had stopped shimmering and James pointed to the end of the hallway.

At the end of the hallway were two sets of staircases, the left staircase spiraled down and the right side staircase spiraled up. He gently directed you to the right staircase. Thankfully this time not needing to be enchanted. At the top the next level was the same setup as the previous floor. He pointed you to the door on the right.

As you approached the wooden door you could faintly hear muggle music playing from inside. He scooted past you and opened the door for you dramatically. You entered and took in the chaotic room.

A large square rug took up most of the floor, it was red and gold with the Gryffindor crest on it. Sitting down on the rug leaning against the wooden bedframe sat Remus, with a thick book in his hands.

Four beds pushed against each corner of the room, in between each horizontal bed was two chests on either side of the room. The chests seemed to act as dressers, two tidy and neat while the other two looked like a clothes tornado ran through it.

At the opposite wall of you, was two long windows with two desks in front of it and a third in between the gap. Two of the desks had books and papers stacked on and around them. The last desk was occupied by a blonde boy who you recognized as Peter. He was hunched over the wooden desk scribbling something on a sheet of paper.

The walls were littered with muggle posters of bands and singers, along with various quidditch players. A record player was blaring a muggle song you hadn't heard before from the right corner bedside.

Lying flat on his stomach on the farthest right bed was Sirius. Of course it was his music playing, you thought with a small smile. James had told you about his friends before formally meeting them, not like you hadn't observed them when running from different Professors.

Sirius was the only one to look up. His pretty eyes met yours.

"Well, isn't this a delightful surprise?" His teasing voice lifted over the music. He quickly sat up, leaning over the record player and turned it down slightly.

"What's a doll like you hanging around ol' Jamie?" His playful smirk widened as you felt your face warm in embarrassment. James had warned you about this.

"Oi, piss off we're studying" James' loud voice held no real heat to them which eased you greatly.

"Ah, 'studying' sure. Uh-huh. You want us to leave you two love birds alone then?" Sirius said very theatrically. If your face was warm before, it was burning now. You could almost feel the heat waves bouncing off you. You hoped no one could tell.

Remus looked up from his seat on the floor. "What're you studying?"

You looked down in surprise, you'd almost forgot he was there. It was even more surprising he was looking at you when he asked. You gulped.

"Transfiguration and Potions" You fumbled out, you felt victorious that you hadn't stuttered through it.

"I have some notes from Potions class if you need it" He said softly before returning to his book. You realized he was shifting the subject away from Sirius and his teasing. How sweet.

"Thanks Moony" James walked and flicked through the papers scattered on one of the free desks before muttering something to Peter that made him start to scribble faster and pick up a bigger textbook. James grabbed a handful of notes and showed you to the closed bed to the door on the left. He sat leaned against the pillows while you sat with your back against the wall.

He handed you Remus' notes and started opening up the textbooks.

You often thought back to that day, and how nervous you were to befriend James in the first place. You often laughed about it. Right now you were on your way to those exact dorms.

James had taught you the spell to make it easier to visit their dorm whenever you needed to. You used the well used spell and made your way up towards their room.

The four boys were scattered around the room when you entered. James' smile widened at the sight of you.

"Love! I was just thinkin' about you" He practically sang from where he laid on his bed.

"When aren't you?" Sirius snorted from his spot on his bed, where he read a muggle magazine with his head hanging off his bed.

"Sorry sweetie but I'm not here for you just yet" You walked past James' bed straight towards his neighbor where Remus sat with a notebook in his hand writing away.

James made a dramatic gasp, his cries echoed around the room. In what he'd call 'utter dismay' which was what you'd call a hilarious performance.

"Hi Remus" You smiled sweetly at him, trying to batter your eyelashes at him.

"Hi flower" He smirked, knowing what you were doing he leaned into his trunk roof pocket and pulled out some of his famous chocolate.

You giggled, "Thank you!" You childishly ran back towards James' bed and flopped down next to him while guarding your precious sweets from him.

"What the hell?" Sirius's head whipped up so fast you almost winced for him.

"How'd you do that?" Peter practically whined out from where he sat in his bed munching on Fudge Flies and Jelly Slugs while studying.

"This is blatant favoritism!" Sirius now kneeled on his bed, waving his hands around while James fell back onto his pillows laughing loudly.

"This isn't funny, do you have any idea how long it took to bribe him for some? all she had to do was ask!" Sirius wailed. Remus hid his chuckles behind his notebook.

"I guess I'm just the favourite, huh Sirius?" You teased from the safety of James' bed.

Sirius scoffed flopping backwards into his bed.

"I liked you better when you were quiet" He grumbled into his pillow which he'd placed over his head.

You turned around to face James. His cheeks were flushed from all his laughter and his glasses were slightly wonky. You reached and corrected their position on his pretty face. He gently smiled at you.

“Hi” He whispered, his eyes tracing your face with a warmth that left you giddy.

“Hi there” You whispered back with a giggle.

He lovingly kissed your cheek, then moved to your temple, then above your eyebrow. Which made you giggle. He kissed the bridge of your nose. He kissed you only just missing your lips with a soft laugh.

Kissing James never felt like fireworks or a spark, it felt soft and warm like a beloved blanket keeping you safe from the cold.

“We’re supposed to be studying” You gave a half-suppressed laugh.

“Mhm, yeah but that’s not as interesting as you are Love” He teased with a playful smirk.

“Ya know we can still hear you right? It’s revolting” Sirius chimed in, loudly expressing his concerns.

James reached behind him, lifting his pillow from behind him he threw it across the room hitting Sirius straight in the face.

Both you and Peter cracked up at Sirius’ briefly stunned face.

“This is war Prongs” Sirius said rather seriously, ironically.

“You’re on Pads” James narrowed his eyes and grabbed the last pillow left on his bed and hopped up.

Both boys raced towards each other in a very heated pillow fight. James kept aiming for Sirius’ hair, which wasn’t taken well. Sirius aimed for James' legs in hopes of knocking him over.

“They’ll be at it for awhile” Remus sighed, like this was a regular occurrence which it probably was you though.

Remus placed his notebook back into his trunk and pulled out even more of his sweet chocolate. Remus looked between you and Peter with an unspoken question.

You and Peter ran and jumped on Remus’ bed, and he shared his chocolate between you three as you all watched the two doofus’ battle each other.

#happy valentine's day #jellydreams #blondejellykitty #james potter x reader #james potter x you #marauders x reader #marauders era x reader #marauders era #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #marauders era fanfiction

665 notes · View notes

clesired · 7 months ago

Text

𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐋 | 𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 !

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 ! “could i request a sirius black x black cat!reader? maybe he’s really awkward and whipped for her.” thank you to the lovely anon who requested this <3

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ! you get asked out in the least normal way you can imagine.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ! no warnings, fluff, black cat fem!reader, second person pov, 0.9k words!

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You let out a soft sigh as you stop walking, turning around and coming face to face with none other than Sirius Black.

For an infamous prankster—he sure lacks stealth.

The corridor you’re standing in is empty save for the two of you and Merlin, if Sirius’ footsteps aren’t louder than an angry Hippogriff’s.

“Can I help you, Black?” You raise a brow, crossing your arms.

His eyes quickly dart to something just a little over your shoulder, and you don’t miss the way his fingers nervously drum against his thigh as he attempts to play it casual.

“Just walking through, L/N. Same as you.” He nods slowly, still avoiding eye contact.

You don’t buy it.

Sirius Black doesn’t do anything without an ulterior motive.

You step closer to him, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Are you trying to prank me?”

His eyes widen as he straightens up, immediately shaking his head. “What? No!”

You’re about to say something else when you realize he looks…different. Not in a particularly good or bad way—just a very unlike Sirius way.

His hands can’t stay still, he keeps shuffling his feet side to side, his cheeks are tinged with a soft blush, and he can barely look you in the eye.

Yeah, you’re pretty sure you’ve caught him red-handed in the middle of a prank. Why else would he look like that?

Tilting your head, you cross your arms. “Care to share why you’re following me, then?” You ask expectantly.

His cheeks flush further as he flounders for an answer and you raise a brow.

Busted.

He looks down at his feet for a moment as he swallows. “I…” he trails off, and you take another step closer.

“You- I- uh…hair!” He suddenly blurts out, causing you to freeze mid step at the outburst.

Naturally, you look at him like he’s crazy. “What?”

He grimaces for a moment before clearing his throat and trying again. “Your uh- hair. It looks pretty.” He murmurs quietly, clearing his throat.

You furrow your brows in confusion before realization dawns on you and you glare. “Flattery will not get you out of this one, Black. Now what are you up to?”

He struggles yet again for an answer before, “Shoes!”

You look down at your shoes and frown upon not seeing anything out of the ordinary. “What are you talking about? My shoes are just fi-”

“They’re very nice.” He cuts you off, still not looking at you. His cheeks are as red as his tie at this point, and you are no less confused than you were when you started this conversation.

Sighing softly once more, you shake your head. “You’re not making any sense, Black. I just want to know-”

“The robes look good on you.” He interrupts you yet again, cheeks still flaming—but he’s looking at you now, so at least there’s that. “And the shoes, and the hair, and you in general-”

He’s beginning to ramble now, and all you can do is stand there and listen because you have no idea where this conversation is going anymore. Never really did in the first place, it seems, actually.

“Your eyes-” He’s still going, but your attention catches on something else behind him as you hear whispers behind a tapestry.

“Oh, for Godric’s sake-” you hear a voice mutter before Remus Lupin steps out, looking disgruntled as ever.

Two steps behind him is none other than James Potter—who at least has the decency to look sheepish when your eyes land on him.

Peter Pettigrew follows next and quickly scurries to stand somewhat behind the other two boys.

You have no idea when or how they got there without your notice, but in all fairness—when have the Marauders not been a confusing bunch?

Remus huffs, effectively pulling you out of your thoughts and catching your attention once more. “He’s trying to ask you out, L/N.” He explains simply.

You look back at Sirius, who smiles shyly and shrugs.

After a long moment of silence, you scoff. “Why didn’t you just say that!?”

Rather than letting Sirius respond, James steps forward, a lopsided smile on his face. “He can’t help it, L/N. He gets all nervous when he sees you and forgets how to talk, isn’t that right, Pads? Start sounding like Wormtail.”

Sirius nods quickly before looking at you and tilting his head, giving you a small smile.

Maybe it’s because his friends are here now, or simply that the proverbial cat is out of the bag—but for whatever blessed reason, Sirius finds his words. “So, um…would you like to go on the next Hogsmeade trip with me?”

You just stare at him for a few long moments, watching as he begins to shuffle nervously at your silence.

Finally, you raise a brow. “You gonna act normal?”

He nods vehemently, straightening up. “Promise.”

Behind him, the other Marauders are all nodding as well.

“Don’t worry, L/N. We’ll make sure he’s right for your date.” James winks, causing you to roll your eyes in amusement before looking back at Sirius.

“Okay.” You accept, smiling ever so slightly when Sirius breathes out a large sigh of relief and his friends start cheering loudly.

Just before you walk away, you toss one last look back at him.

“By the way, your hair looks pretty today too, Black.”

He smiles so wide it’s almost blinding, and you resume walking down the corridor with a small smirk.

3…2…1…

“Wait a minute, just today!? Oi!” You hear his loud Hippogriff footsteps start up again as he chases after you.

Yeah, he’s definitely back to normal.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ! wooh, first post of the new year!!! i hope you lovelies enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

xoxo,

mila! *: ･🐚༄🫧*ੈ✩

#clesired #clesiredwrites #clesiredoneshots #clesiredsiriusblack #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fic #harry potter marauders #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #marauders era #marauders era fanfiction #marauders era fic #sirius black #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fic #sirius black x reader

922 notes · View notes

crescenthistory · 3 months ago

Text

Haunt Me, Then; Part 2

Pairing: Sirius Black x Fem!Reader

Part 1 of the The Hunger Games AU

Chapter Synopsis: On a Capitol Train filled with all the people that might give you answers, in their own unique ways, you find yourself feeling more confused and conflicted than before. Peter isn’t managing well, Sirius wants to talk but remains cryptic when you let him, and Bellatrix and Barty prove to be unpredictable companions to say the least.

WC: 8.4k

Tags: Fem!Reader, Use of Y/N, Hunger Games typical warnings of corruption, oppression and widespread pain, mentions of imminent and past death, references to loss and grief, heavy hurt/comfort, bittersweet moments, Barty and Bellatrix are their own warnings, disassociation, kind of miscommunication trope, yearning, childhood best friends (to mentor/tribute to lovers), unwanted physical touches

A/N: huge thanks to my darling aimee (@ailoda) for taking on the feat that is beta-reading this series! keep in mind that this thg au is not thg compliant; i do what i want lol. i am open to doing a taglist if people are interested<3

Perhaps it was an odd aspect to focus on, but the chairs on the Capitol train were ridiculously comfortable.

While District 7 was far from the poorest region, there was not an emphasis on luxury goods either. In large families like the McKinnons, it was not uncommon to struggle to make ends meet, and no waiting room you had ever spent time in had plush seating options. The closest you had come to riches was through Sirius’ parents, who moved from District 1 prior to Sirius’ birth on request from the Capitol. They never would say why; they would never really say anything. At least Sirius and Regulus did not have to want for anything, and they gave whatever support they could to their friends. To you.

Yet, the chairs on the train felt like the most abundant lounge you could have pictured. Textured and ruffled like it was designed for angels.

In a few weeks, that was all you could hope to be, really. Angels.

It felt easier at this moment to focus on the chair. How it felt against your thighs, how it removed aches from your bones, the ones you would have preferred to focus on, because pain was the most distracting thing of all. You wished to place your whole attention, your whole burdened soul inside the soft down of the pillow, to disappear into the microscopic world and not have to face anything.

To hide in your mind was a skill you had always excelled at, especially the past few years. Despite your mastery and best intentions, Sirius broke through.

Even as you blocked out the rest of the room, you were acutely aware of Sirius. You knew he was sitting across from you, table pushed to the side so there were no real barriers between you two. You knew he had his head in his hands, occasionally dragging his fingers through his hair and pulling, as if it would do him any good. You knew he sounded like a man at war; occasionally huffing, grunting, sighing into the nether.

And because you were so aware of Sirius, you unfortunately remained aware of Peter, as Sirius kept looking his way and occasionally speaking to him.

Curled up on the sofa a bit to the left of you, Peter laid crying. Not loud wailing, though he would have been well within his rights to do so. Just silent tears and the occasional hiccup. It tore your heart open and made you want to run further away into yourself.

Bellatrix and Barty – who you had learned seemed to only bring out the worst in each other – sat on the sofa across from Peter, chattering away as if they were not witnesses to this ironic train wreck in motion. Last time you checked in, they were gushing over the potential costumes you and Peter might be dressed in and what dynamics they hoped to see between the tributes in the arena, how their champions would play into it all. Or, at least Bellatrix was talking at Barty with enough enthusiasm to power District 12, You tuned them out long ago, until they became nothing to you.

Like you hoped you would be to them soon.

Sirius nudged your shoe with his.

Your gaze fell to where his foot laid beside yours. You had matching shoes. Even after 5 years in the Capitol, he still wore black boots, as if he was moments away from heading into a forest.

You trailed up to find his insistent eyes on you already. He seemed to have been studying your face, one corner of his lip twitching into a half-smile. He tilted his head at you, almost in question – you had no answer, so you merely shrugged.

That seemed to be enough for him.

Sirius clapped his hands together, loudly enough to disturb Bellatrix and Barty’s conversation – the latter of which sent Sirius a nasty look you had yet to decipher – but not so loud as to startle Peter. “Alright, we have no more time to spare,” Sirius declared, ending the short period he had awarded you all to absorb the shock of the moment. Though, perhaps mostly himself. “Peter, Y/N, why don’t you head to your rooms to breathe or change – there’s rows of clothes to choose from already hung up there – and then the three of us meet up in 30 minutes in the parlor to start talking strategy?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Barty beat you to it.

“What do you mean the three of you, Black?” He somehow managed to snarl and laugh at the same time. “News flash, but your Capitol representatives are meant to be along for the whole ride.”

Sirius didn’t move his gaze to meet Barty’s as he spoke. “You are meant to be just that – representatives. You can join us for meals and public outings, but you have no business joining us outside of that.”

“How lovely of you to think you have a choice, Siri!” Bellatrix purred in a sing-songy tone of voice that did not at all match the contents of her speech. She rose from her seat and began walking in Sirius’ direction. “The parlor in 30 minutes sounds absolutely splendid. We can then discuss how to frame the tragedy that is the three of you in the most entertaining way for the interviews.”

The line of Sirius’ lips was tight and you caught a glimpse of his eyes flashing, but Bellatrix moved in front of him before you could read him further, blocking your view. You could hear him open his mouth, but Bellatrix lifted an arm to place a finger in his face, presumably over his lips. “Sh, sh, sh, little Prince, save the tantrums for the cameras.”

She flicked the finger over his nose as she moved past him to float towards the door. When you saw Sirius’ face again, his eyes were squeezed shut, head turned to the side.

Bellatrix made a whistling sound that had Barty rolling his eyes and standing up – did she call on him? If that was what she did, he apparently listened for all intents and purposes, striding through the space between you and Sirius. These Capitol people seemed to walk as if it took no effort, as if they weighed next to nothing, movements all tied together in beautiful elegance.

The smirk and wink Barty shot you as he passed was neither.

The door slammed shut with a bang that, though expected, made Peter jump in his seat where he was just beginning to sit up and gather himself. You smiled sadly at him as he stared down into the floor.

Sirius, on the other hand, opened his eyes with a sigh. He took a moment to look between you and Peter, lingering on you when you actually met his eye. There was a miniscule shake of his head, seemingly instinctive, before he cleared his throat. “Alright. I meant what I said. I’ll take you two to your rooms to collect yourselves alone, and then we’ll talk strategy.”

So much for catching up.

There were a hundred things to be said, but the mere thought of raising any of the points made your blood heat uncomfortably. Instead, you nodded and got up from your seat, squaring your shoulders.

Half on instinct, half to make some connection with the one person you truly know in this place, you moved past Sirius to give Peter a hand up. At last, when you stood before him, he looked up to meet your eyes, tears still swimming in his blue irises.

“C’mon, Petey,” you whispered, squeezing his shoulder with one hand and grabbing his hand with the other. He huffed a breath you wondered if maybe was supposed to be a friendly sign as he clutched onto you in turn, allowing you to help him up. You brushed off the invisible dust on his sleeves and smiled more assuredly this time, before turning on your heel and facing Sirius.

When he didn’t say anything, just stared emptily at the scene before him – your hands hovering over Peter, Peter’s lip audibly quivering – you once again cut through the silence. “Go on then.” Not your most politest, but you did not have it in you to be right now. You figured you should be allowed some sins, now towards the end.

Sirius seemed to snap out of it but merely nodded in turn, gesturing for you both to follow as he made his way out of the room.

The atmosphere was nothing short of awkward as you and Peter trailed behind Sirius through the impossibly long and winding corridors of the train. You had never really felt the age difference between you and Sirius while growing up, it was barely a year and you both assumed the positions of the older kids looking out for younger siblings and friends. Yet now, walking directly behind his broad back, defined with lean muscle that rippled with how tense he was, you felt so impossibly small. Not necessarily physically, just in every sense that mattered. You and Peter were like a set of puppies, stumbling after the seasoned elder, and you despised it.

You reached out a hand behind you to find Peter’s. Some of the tension seeped out of you when he gripped you in return, his firm fingers settling beside yours like a welcome weight.

“That one there is Peter’s room.” Sirius came to a stop at the end of the hall, four doors on each side. He nodded with his chin towards one that was slightly ajar as he spoke. “And yours is across the hall.” He didn’t say your name, just set his intense eyes on some vague point beside your head.

You looked away.

Squeezing Peter’s hand, you let go and gestured for him to enter his room first. Though it might not make a difference, you wanted to be with him as he entered, so he didn’t have to do it alone. Peter took small steps towards his room, pushing the door open with the tips of his fingers. To both your and seemingly Peter’s surprise, he gasped, and took a proper step into the room – it was huge, much more so than you would have expected to be possible on a train. Sirius had been right, there was an open closet filled with clothes to the right, and a bed in the middle that looked just as plush as the sofas.

“Yeah, live it up, Petey,” Sirius said dryly, a semblance of that old humour of his you remembered leaking into his voice. “It’ll be even better in the Capitol. See you in a bit.”

With more ushering than perhaps necessary, Sirius encouraged Peter to walk completely in, and shut the door gently behind him.

As Sirius turned to look at you, you turned away from him, hand already placed on your own door handle. You pushed it down and made to enter when you felt Sirius’ cold fingers curl around your elbow. It was a stark contrast to how Bellatrix would grab you, this was a featherlight touch, as if you were delicate, as if you were precious.

It made you look up at him through your lashes to find him already scanning your face.

“Y/N…” He trailed off.

You placed your fingers over his, careful to study how his face seemingly perked up at your touch, only to fall when you peeled his hand off of you. “Later, Sirius. If you want to explain, absolve your soul while you can or whatever, then do it later. Spare me right now. I just want to lay down.”

You took a small step towards the door again. Sirius pressed his lips harshly together before nodding, putting on a forced smile for a second. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right, we can talk it out later – but until then, quit talking like that.”

“Like what?”

“About absolution and doing things while you can. Quit talking like you’re dying.” You could tell by the look on his face that he was being serious, but that didn’t ease up the knot in your chest at all.

All you could do was to hum noncommittally and turn around to enter your room. You didn’t lift your eyes to look at Sirius before you shut the door in his face.

You did not have it in you to change; you would rather cling to what you had from home. Instead, you sat down cross-legged on the floor in front of a full body mirror and leaned your forehead against it, slumping in preemptive defeat.

With laboured but increasingly measured breathing, you tried to get an overview of your situation thus far, playing over the past three hours to digest.

You wish your first thought was something poetic, something deep – some grand final words you could write in your diary that would be distributed all throughout your district as an ode to your memory once you’re slaughtered in an arena by some District 2 child for entertainment. You wished that if not your life, at least your mind could be worth something.

Nothing came to you though. Your first and most eloquent thought remained: fuck.

You were truly and genuinely fucked, why would you think of anything else? A part of your mind tried to remind you of Sirius’ request, his near-plea, to not talk like that, but how could you? He didn’t tell you what else to think of if not that.

Staring at your increasingly hollow reflection, you found you were left with more questions than answers.

The events of the day flashed before you and you did your best to file away only what you thought might be of significance to you going forward. Mary’s teary face and Marlene’s insistent eyes were important to you but not helpful, so you pushed them aside. Instead, you tried to bring forth any mention of this year’s games, anything Barty and Bellatrix have said or done that can give you an indication of what lays ahead of you.

It was clear that Bellatrix knew that you and Peter knew Sirius. Reunion, conundrum, loverboy. Her hints were a far cry of subtle, let alone tasteful, though you thought perhaps that was her goal exactly. At this moment, feeling like a young girl stowed away in your room, you had no idea what to do with that knowledge – but you held onto it, knowing you had to gain answers somehow.

The one thing you could do in what felt like an ocean of confusion and despair was to try and grasp onto some form of strategy to carry you through. Not the strategies Sirius was talking about for the games, but a personal strategy, a perhaps feeble but significant attempt at maintaining your sanity. Yourself.

Thoughts would float by and you would try to keep only those that might help you survive mentally until it is finally your physical life on the line, on the pods in the arena.

Yet, even as you managed to let your hometown and your fears go, your thoughts still snaked away towards Sirius, a miniature betrayal it had committed against you every day for the past 5 years. You didn’t understand him, you didn’t understand how he avoided your every question and statement, yet still seemed so insistent on your survival and his apologies.

It had been years and all you had wanted was to hear his voice again, even hear some of the specific words he said – but now, they felt hollow even in their sweetness.

I had to go, I’m sorry, I know you.

It reminded you painfully of the words that had haunted you up until this day: I’m sorry, I had to. You’re wonderful. I love you. You’ll be okay. I love you.

I bloody swear to you, he had said to you just some hours ago, you will make it through these games. As you envisioned his face when you saw Peter and recalled how you yourself felt when you listened to his quiet cries, you knew he could not mean that anymore. There was more than you on the line.

Whether it was a panic attack or a fit of rage that was brewing, you knew you needed to shake it off. Far from 30 minutes had passed, you thought maximum 10 – you really would need a clock in the arena – but you couldn’t stay put any longer.

Climbing to your feet, you ruffled your hair and squeezed your cheeks to try and feel better, paving away the chaos to instead focus on what is right in front of you. That had to be your strategy then. Moment by moment, step by step.

Opening your door tentatively, you stepped outside it, stopping for a mere moment in front of Peter’s. Wondering if you should go inside, listening to catch whether he was crying.

You didn’t hear anything distinct, and even if you had, you didn’t think you would be much comfort for him at the moment.

The corridors you walked through were highly industrial, another stark contrast to your hometown that was mostly built on wood and a few bricks. They felt the perfect amount of inhuman – while you were sure some design and craftsmanship had gone into building even this train, it felt void of interest and love. Just as a Capitol train should be.

The humming of the wheels were distant but ever present as you explored, feeling almost like you were sneaking out past curfew.

Not that you used to have a curfew, but Sirius did, and you would ditch it together. He was never one to be construed by Walburga and Orion’s chains – as he called them – and would ask you to meet him at the corner of their property at midnight. You might run through the woodlands surrounding you, lay down in a field and watch the stars, climb onto the roof of your primary school and point out whatever landmarks you spotted across town, sharing memories even though most of them had been made together.

Sirius’ childlike laughter echoed faintly in your ears when his real voice cut through your thoughts.

At the very end of a hallway that opened up into a larger room filled with seating arrangements and shelves, there was one final door to your right. It was slightly ajar, not enough for you to look in, but enough for you to hear.

“You mean to tell me this is a fucking coincidence?” Sirius’ tone was seething even in its whisper, but the anger didn’t seem to be directed at any one individual.

There was no response in the momentary silence before he continued. “She was never supposed to be picked, which means they did it on purpose. Pete is just the nail in the bloody coffin.”

Your brows furrowed, your hand coming up to steady yourself on the wall. It sounded like he was talking to someone, but you couldn’t hear anyone else.

“I don’t bloody care if they do, I–” He drew a sharp breath, you could picture the slight parting of his lips revealing white teeth. “Sorry. No, I know, fuck. Sorry, gods – I don’t want to keep saying that. Yeah. Yeah, sure.”

His voice faded into indecipherable mumbles.

You knew he was talking about you. He had to be, and the implications hit you like an arrow – both the implications of his words and of him talking about you in the first place.

If you were trying to clear your head, this surely was not helping you in the slightest. With the effort only a tribute must possess, you pushed off the wall and kept walking into what seemed to be the parlor, head keeping straight forward and not trying to steal a glance through the gap in the door.

You set your focus on the chandelier they had somehow managed to squeeze into the middle of this open space in the middle of the train. It cast the room in a light yellow glow, highlighting the different textures in the many pieces of even-more comfortable cushions across the room.

It was a comfort you didn’t want at the moment; you walked towards the window at the end of the room instead, seeing the outskirts of your district disappearing in a haze of browns and greens.

“You’re early.”

You only turned your head slightly to see Sirius walking slowly into the room, putting a small rectangular object into the sidepocket of his sturdy trousers. His face was carefully measured, but his eyes still betrayed him, eyes boring into yours with an underlying current dancing through the grey.

“Oddly enough I didn’t feel like being cooped up.” You made an active effort to not add some comment about spending your final days in a more worthwhile manner.

Sirius still felt it based on the way the corners of his lips twitched. He neared you, standing at the edge of the sofa closest to the window you were tracing with your fingertips – it wasn’t as cold as you were hoping. “Even though you said you wanted to lay down?” he asked, a certain mirth mixing into his tone, referring to your excuse from earlier.

You shrugged, nonplussed. “I did. I only needed a minute or two.”

Sirius’ gaze softened as he leaned his weight against the sofa, crossing his arms as he regarded you. “Take as many minutes as you need, princess,” he whispered.

You turned then, mirroring his stance as you leaned against the window. His face was open, laid bare for you even in his continuing torment.

“Can you make this make sense to me?” It wasn’t the question you wanted to ask the most, but it was the one you figured you might gain the most help from. Sirius used to be your clarity in situations like these.

He breathed in deeply, looking down in respite. “Five years ago, I survived the Hunger Games and was asked to stay in the Capitol. I did. Today, against all bloody odds, you and Peter were reaped, and got stuck with me as your mentor, and those two as your Capitol escorts. Together, we have to figure out how to get you through it.”

It was a rehearsed speech, laid prepared on his tongue, the Sparknotes poison you had asked for. His tone was controlled, some bitterness still leaking through

Asked to stay.

“Why?”

Sirius looked up at you then, an exasperated smile teasing his lips. “Which why are you searching for, princess?”

Why did you stay? Why were we reaped, if you don’t think it was a coincidence?

For some inexplicable reason, you took pity on him and shook your head, trying to reflect his half-smile. “Let’s not. Let’s not.”

If Sirius could soften more with all his muscles and grit on display in his skintight black tshirt, he did. He pushed off the sofa, as if on his way towards you, beginning to speak. “Whatever you wan–”

When a high-pitched giggle made its way down the hall, he cut himself short with a frown and turned his head – you did the same.

“I’m happy to see we’re at a respectable distance this time,” Bellatrix said through a grin as she walked in, swirling down into a seat on the sofa Sirius was leaning against. “Your fans will be much more pleased this way.”

Sirius’ jaw ticked, gaze moving from Bellatrix to Barty who had trailed in behind her and opted to lean against the doorway, arms crossed much like Sirius’ and a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“I thought I told you to stay away for this meeting.” Sirius tried, despite all of you remembering just how that went last time.

“And I thought I told you where to stick it.” Barty’s tone was somehow both teasing and menacing.

Sirius scoffed, but the sound was tight as his eyes twitched at the sight before him. He looked between the two Capitol representatives with disdain. “Try to be of help then, why don’t you? Scaring the tributes is not going to help anyone win.”

Bellatrix twirled her black curls as she grinned. “You don’t want us to upset your sweetheart, Siri?”

“I don’t want you to terrify my friends, no.” Sirius’ tone was cool as he replied. “And we’re still waiting for Peter.”

“Pipsqueak is lost somewhere behind there.” Barty pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “Didn’t know where the parlor was.”

Sirius pinched the bridge of his nose. “And you didn’t help him?”

Barty snorted. “No, why would I?”

Tired of simply witnessing this miniature battle of wits, you pushed off the wall and began walking towards the doorway Barty was currently blocking. “Don’t bother, I’ll go find him,” you announced. “Then we can get this over with.”

Barty didn’t move. He still filled the doorway, grinning at you like the Cheshire cat. “You need something, sweetheart?”

“Would you move so I could go get Peter?” You were already exhausted by this, not willing to entertain his games.

“Junior,” Sirius warned quietly behind you. It took you a second to realise he was talking to Barty.

Barty’s gaze flitted between the two of you, grin never faltering. “Aren’t you going into the arena? You can’t let someone standing in the doorway stop you. Move me yourself.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t have an axe right now. So. Move,” you said dryly, referring to Sirius’ infamous weapon of choice.

Barty chuckled, but – despite your assumptions – moved to let you pass, instead walking over to plop down on the sofa, sprawled out like he owned the place. “You might make the games less boring for me after all, birdie.”

You didn’t deign it with a response as you headed down the less-lit hallway to find Peter. You could hear Bellatrix’s voice faintly in the background, grateful for a short reprieve.

It wasn’t hard to find Peter, yet you purposefully stalled on the way back. He had been roaming in the other direction, apparently on advice from Barty, utterly lost and confused. His face when he heard your voice and whipped around was enough to soften the stone in your stomach somewhat and you walked in comfortable silence on the way back.

“Ah! There they are!” Bellatrix sounded elated, clapping her hands together as you and Peter emerged. Sirius’ head picked up too, offering you both a tight smile. He had moved to stand by the window you had been by earlier, fingertips lingering the same way yours had.

As you went in, you moved to drag a chair up beside the two sofas, creating a half circle of sorts, and brought your knees up to your chest.

“Petey, why don’t you sit with me, mate?” Barty said, faux friendliness dripping all over his sentence.

“You don’t have to do that Peter.” Your response was immediate.

Peter looked between you for half a second, eyes wide, before smiling nervously. “It’s, erm, alright Y/N. I’ll just sit.” He sat down on the end closest to you, but Barty moved closer, arm over the edge of the sofa, fingertips almost tickling Peter’s hair. He was enjoying this way too much.

Sirius seemingly agreed with you, pushing off the wall with his foot and walking to stand beside your chair where he could see all of you. “Okay then. Let’s talk business.”

“Yes, let us,” Bellatrix said, sitting up in her seat. “We should start with optics. How shall we frame our little triangular tragedy here?”

“There is no more tragedy here than in every other district.” Sirius’ arms were folded, displaying every muscle he had earned over the past five years, and his face was equally as focussed. “We should focus on their strengths as individuals instead. Peter is resourceful and Y/N is–”

“Desirable. That’s how we should market her – if the Capitol’s heartthrob is all sweet on her, then surely everyone else would be too.” Her eyes were gleaming, set dead on Sirius, as if you weren’t there despite the way she was talking about you.

Your breath was caught and there was a twinging of your heart warring with the rage in your stomach, but Sirius beat you to it.

“Stop.” His tone was firm, one that would leave no room for argument had he been addressing any other two people in the world. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. Focus on what matters.”

“Stop what?” Barty laughed, inserting himself into the ridicule unfolding before you. “Addressing everyone’s favourite rumours? We would be stupid not to add it to our narrative. Just because you don’t want to say you lov–”

“That. Stop that, right now.” Sirius’ eyes were hardened as he set his sights on the two of them. “I don’t give a fuck about any rumours. These two, Y/N and Peter, are like my siblings. Sister and brother. The younger kids I looked after back home. We grew up together, yes, but we also grew apart when I moved to the Capitol. That is the true narrative and the one we will be sticking to, disproving all others. You want to be a team? You want to join our meetings? Then we must front the same picturesque storyline.”

Your neck felt like it had been snapped and your lungs punctured from the whiplash. It took every last bit of your willpower for your face to remain neutral, even as Sirius metaphorically slapped it.

You were embarrassed that the cryptic rumours they were referring to was not what spread the most alarm in your head.

Siblings. It wasn’t even funny how sour that word tasted on your tongue, and it hadn’t even been you who said it.

The Sirius who was speaking now was not one you had grown apart from, it was one you didn’t know. It was evident to you that this was a theatre, a performance, even if it lacked the theatrical joys you had previously associated with this very same boy. His face was firm, disconnected and determined all at the same time, a mix of opposites that only the Capitol could concoct in someone.

Bellatrix barked a laugh, seemingly not buying it. “Siblings? That is the narrative you prefer going with?” She tsked. “You have so many juicy television opportunities here, Black, and you go for the most boring one?”

Sirius sat down on the armrest of the sofa, shoulders squared to look broader. More intimidating. “Television, Lestrange, is supposed to last for the entirety of the games, not just the preparations before it. If you limit these tributes to a storyline that cannot follow into the arena, they are doomed to irrelevance. You don’t want boring tributes do you? You want a victor.”

He leaned back, looking at her with a gaze that told you he knew he had her. “Instead of some irrelevant rumour sob story, we explain their connections to me as a strength. An older brother who taught them, who they learned from. Give them framings and stories within their own rights. It will carry on into the arena through intrigue and comparisons in a way soapbox drama never will. I thought you knew this. It’s basic strategy, Bella.”

He was smirking now, an expression of glee that seemed more for effect, a final push, than a reflection of any genuine mirth. Bellatrix, on the other hand, had lost a lot of her usual fanatics, instead of staring Sirius down in an indiscernible manner.

“While I love that you get to hash out your drama,” you said, irony poison dripping from your words, “would somebody explain what teh fuck we’re talking about? What rumours?” You didn’t care that you were rude, you didn’t care how Sirius’ eyes twitched. You were wounded and frankly irritated to be spoken of and not to.

Sirius opened his mouth to speak, but Barty’s bark of laughter interrupted him. “What, Capitol news doesn't trickle all the way down to 7?” There was no hiding the condescension in his tone, but his glee somehow shone even brighter. “Beloved victor Sirius Black is rumoured to be in love with some girl from his district, much to everyone’s utter heartbreak.”

“Which is ridiculous considering I haven’t even been to 7 since I volunteered.” Sirius was strictly looking at Barty, ignoring your burning gaze. “Tabloids getting bored and sparking up irrelevant drama shouldn’t be involved in the Hunger Games where there is actual action to focus on.”

Bellatrix tsked. “Don’t underestimate the power of a good love story, Siri.”

“This wouldn’t be a good one – it would be far-fetched. Y/N and Peter are like my siblings. I haven’t even seen them in 5 years. Can we focus on strategies that are actually worthwhile, please?”

You felt nauseated and dizzy but nodded to signify that you were in agreement. Anything that would ease the teasing and bring you back to the fact that you were mere days away from the end of a blade.

You were beginning to grow nervous that they would refuse, that they would try to analyse the potential of a love story, when Barty kicked his legs up on the table with a loud bam and folded his hands over his stomach. “Alright, then. Whatever. Big Black and his two woodchippers take on the arena.”

Bellatrix scoffed.

“If we’re to have learned from Sirius… does that mean we have to use axes like you did?” Peter, to your surprise, piped up, looking uncomfortable with the idea.

Sirius kept his business-face on as he bobbed his head side to side. “Maybe pose with one for a couple of promo shots, depending on the public’s reactions. But in the arena, you use whatever you need whenever you need.”

You didn’t say anything. Couldn’t, despite yourself and despite the fire in your veins.

Siblings.

You watched Sirius expressionlessly and noticed how his eyebrow closest to you kept twitching. You caught him casting a quick side glance your way, but it didn’t linger enough for you to analyse.

“Have you got no input on this, birdie?” Barty’s voice drawled, and you knew he was talking to you.

Without looking at him, you bobbed your head much the same way Sirius just had. “I don’t really give a shit about rumours or narratives or what anyone thinks of anything. I care about the part where I’m stuck in an arena to fight to the death.”

In a swift movement, Barty lurched up from his seat on the sofa and crossed Peter to sit on its armrest, body leaned forward into your personal space. His fingers were somehow elegant even in their bordering-on violent endeavour as they shot out to grip your chin.

“So you want to die then?”

“Junior,” Sirius hissed, pushing off his opposite armrest at the same time as Barty to stand before the two of you. Ready to intervene.

The latter shot him a sideway glance with a wicked smirk looking between Sirius’ face and yours. “You are not fooling anyone,” he laughed heartily at Sirius before zeroing his green eyes in on you. “And you are choosing imminent death if you keep up your nonchalant attitude. It’s the Hunger Games. Play your part or get played.”

You held his gaze despite the churning in your stomach, biting back a comment about that choice already haven been taken from you. Instead, you said, in a voice a tad bit quieter than you would have preferred, “What game do you want us to play then, Junior?”

His smirk faltered for only a second before he released you with a huff. Leaning backwards, he let his body tip over the side of the armrest to land on his back on the sofa across Peter’s lap, who froze with his hands hovering in the air. You could just barely see his teeth flash. “I’m the one who gets to not care. I’m here for the circus, not the show, darling, and I’m counting on you to make it interesting. Show a little heart.”

Your eyelashes fluttered in confusion at the biting yet uncaring tone he sported, entirely uncertain where to place him. Bellatrix just scoffed once more, clearly upset with the day’s developments, while Sirius remained overtly tense beside you, fists dangling at his sides, clenched.

“Well, I think–”

Sirius cut Bellatrix off immediately. “Enough! That’s enough, alright? This is a brainstorming session, not a bickering one. The narrative is that the District 7 tributes this year are close friends, two kids I used to train and look after like siblings when we were younger. I will make a plan for how we present Y/N and Peter together and then I will go over individual strategies with them at a later point. Need I remind anyone that all of us rely on a good presentation?”

He spoke to you all, but it was clear it was pointed in the direction of Barty, who was quite literally kicking his feet over the armrest, much to Peter’s heightened nerves, and Bellatrix, who was beginning to look utterly bored with you all.

Their silence was their consent, so Sirius went on to look at Peter, accepting his meek nod. Then he turned to you, almost hesitantly.

There was a storm in your eyes at how you were being spoken of, how you were being treated – but you didn’t know if Sirius could interpret that anymore. If he could, it didn’t stop him as he nodded to himself as he began to pace around the lot of you.

“Alright. Alright. Any final inputs before we part ways for dinner?”

“What, you don’t want to dine with us, Siri?” At Sirius’ increasing distress, Bellatrix seemed to find her footing once more.

“We don’t have the time to spare. It’s late anyway.” He stopped for a second to look at his two former friends. His siblings. “There’s a dining hall around five rooms down that way. Pick out anything you want. This place is yours, be comfortable.”

Peter nodded quickly. “Yes, I know where– I, uhm, found it… earlier.” He shot Barty a weary look, referring to his earlier diversion, making the older boy nearly giggle with delight.

“Great.” Sirius’ voice was calmer now, tired. He looked between you and Peter, but struggled to let his gaze rest. “Good job today. I– I’ll see you tomorrow.

You swallowed hard and realised you would probably struggle eating any dinner. Yet, you tried to stick to your earlier idea of moment by moment, step by step, so you nodded with your lips tightly pressed together.

“Yeah thanks. Same. Let’s go, Peter.”

It took some time to wrestle an entertained Barty off of Peter, but you headed back down the same hall you retrieved him from earlier, not looking back over your shoulder as you did so.

Just like the seats, the food provided by the Capitol was delicious. It was lush and rich, to an almost too intense degree, making you feel more like cattle fattened up for slaughter and less like important guests.

You ate what you could as quickly as you could, and then you were left jumping your leg beneath the table as you waited for Peter to finish too – you knew you couldn’t leave him alone lest Barty or Bellatrix found him, but you were suddenly craving being cooped up in your room in the very same way that had stifled you earlier.

Luckily, it didn’t seem that Barty and Bellatrix wanted to play with you any longer. Maybe it wasn’t as fun when Sirius wasn’t there, or maybe they were just too focussed on plaguing him wherever he was.

You told yourself you didn’t feel bad for him. You had grown accustomed to lying.

You kept lying to yourself as Peter finished and you went back to your designated rooms, you kept lying as you hugged him goodnight and went each your way, you kept lying as you laid down on your ridiculously soft bed.

The lies were many and merry; that you didn’t care; that you cared too much; that you were okay; that you were not okay. That you had any hope of sleeping tonight.

Sleeping had never been your forté, so after the violence of the Reaping and the reunion of a lifetime, you had little luck.

You even lied as you told yourself you had tried for long enough. Truth be told, despite your time blindness you had a feeling you hadn’t been in bed for too long before you got out of it to stand in front of the mirror once more. Memorising yourself.

You did eventually change into some of the clothes the Capitol provided, though they didn’t seem real. You were wearing what was supposed to be pyjamas, but they were much too reminiscent of normal trousers and shirts for you to feel like you were about to go to sleep. It made you miss your old ratty sleep shirt at home, but even the thought of it worsened your ache. It had been Sirius’.

With a sharp breath, you decided to explore the halls once more. Not for any thrill of adventure, you just had an inexplicable need to find a window to look out of. To watch the world pass by.

You walked in the opposite direction of the parlor, further and further back, wanting to find the very end of your district’s compartment of the train. To know that behind yours were two tributes from District 8, two people you would soon be pitted against, brought a chill up your spine.

At last you meet a door in the middle of the hallway. The train was long and huge, but it cannot go on for longer than this, you thought. This must be the final room of your compartment, the one with the huge windows you had always noticed when you watched it from the outside.

Your hand falls to the handle. Gently, you open it.

“Oh–” The first thing your eyes landed on when you entered the room was not the landscape you had so longed for, but Sirius’ own staring back at you. Grey like the mountains cornering you but deep like the oceans you would pass in District 4. He was sitting down, as if he had had the same thought as you to come here to watch the windows. The thought pained you. “Sorry, I didn’t– I’ll go.”

Sirius shot up and out of his seat, taking just one step forward. “No! You don’t… you don’t have to. You shouldn’t. Come sit, I’ll go, if you want.”

There was a lot to decipher in that sentence, a lot that you frankly did not have the energy for. Instead, you regarded him for one more second before slowly closing the door and moving to sit on the opposite side of the sofa from him. It was a cream – also, stupidly comfortable – sofa that stretched out in a half-circle at the very end of your compartment of the train. The wall above it was steel grey, barricading you from the next part of the train, but the walls on either side were wide floor-to-ceiling windows; the ones you had longed for. They were certainly reinforced to a degree you could never even imagine to ensure they wouldn’t break.

You didn’t tell him whether you wanted him to leave. You just sat sideways on the sofa, leaning your head against the last bit of grey wall and looking out the window closest to you.

“If you sit down on the floor and stare straight ahead, it’ll feel like you’re flying.” His voice was softened, a stark contrast to your earlier meeting.

You still couldn’t help but bite back. “What a nice brother you are, giving out advice to the younger kids.”

It sounded like it pained him when he sighed. “Y/N–”

“Don’t.” You still weren’t looking at him, staring blankly ahead. “Just… don’t.”

You weren’t quite sure why you were upset with him. It was so much and yet nothing at all, stretching out across the past five hours and five years. You were upset with him for leaving, of course you were, and you were upset with him for changing, but of course he had. You were upset with him for confusing you so much, both through his words and actions, and perhaps, through your feelings.

There was no time or need to address them now, yet they ruled much of your visible dismay as you got caught up on how he wanted to present you to the world.

Siblings.

Sirius was quiet for a moment; then, you heard the soft sound of him walking across the room to settle down on the floor in front of the window closest to you, just like he had said you should. He stared out, but you could feel him observing you in his periphery.

“There is a lot for you to resent me for,” he whispered. “Please don’t let that be one of them.”

Part of your brain wanted to rage against him for being cryptic.

The other just asked, “Why?”

He leaned back on his arms, biceps flexing, looking with an empty gaze into the mountainside. “It’s for your own good.”

“Why?”

Maybe you were being petulant. Maybe he deserved you being petulant if he wanted to cast himself as your older brother.

Sirius made an exasperated sound and shook his head, turning to look at you – you didn’t return the gesture. “Princess, don’t make me spell it out for you, it’s worse enough as is. Everything will be better if people think we see each other in a familial sense.”

“As opposed to the truth, which is what?” At last, you turned to face him, doing your best to school away your pain, but still being left with an indent between your brows. You didn’t know what you wanted him to say.

Evidently, neither did Sirius. All he did was whisper your name, so pleadingly, so achingly it made your throat hurt.

“Being your sibling didn’t make them think any more favourably of Regulus.” The words were out of your mouth before you could help them, though thankfully with less ire than before. Just a mixture of your own confusion and heartache.

Sirius closed his eyes as if he got nauseated. He seemed to weigh his words carefully, face scrunched up as his muscles tensed. With memories of Sirius throwing Regulus around in circles, their laughter harmonising as they ran after you through the streets, you had no choice but to give him time.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, the first apology you uttered to him. “Is he…?” You trailed off. To ask was insensitive, it was cruel – but it was necessary. You needed to know.

Sirius’ face remained trapped in his pained scrunched up expression. He didn’t seem angry with your question, though you never had seen him angry with you.

“Yes.”

The word hung heavy in the air between you like a suspended body. It was everything you had expected and nothing you had hoped. You didn’t ask how he knew.

Silently, you slid off the edge of the sofa and scooted over to sit beside Sirius, whose breath hitched. Just like him, you faced the window, but you had your knees hiked up and your arms wrapped around them. You laid your head tentatively down on top of them, turned towards him. Watched as the environments flurrying by cast coloured patterns over his alabaster skin, watched as his eyebrows twitched as if he would start crying.

Watched as silent, warm tears rolled down your own cheeks.

When he peeled his eyes open and met yours, they softened. His brows were still furrowed together and he swallowed heavily.

His hand just barely shook as he reached up to wipe the tear on your right cheek away with his thumb, touch gentle and cool against your skin. You closed your eyes and sighed.

Sirius let his hand drop from your face and it felt like a loss.

Neither of you said a word for a minute. There were so many things you wanted to say, needed to ask. Yet nothing came to mind. Just two kids sitting beside one another, trying to remember how to breathe.

“Tomorrow when you arrive at the Capitol…” Sirius whispered, trailing off. You found his eyes to be redrimmed when you opened yours, once again staring out the window emptily. “Just… don’t trust anyone, okay?”

He sounded more haunted than ever. “I wasn’t planning on it,” you whispered in return, half-wanting to lighten his torment.

“And, I know– I know that should include me. I know you don’t trust me. But please, can you try to listen to me anyway?”

You watched him silently. You couldn’t deny him even if you wanted. “I will.”

Sirius nodded once, twice. Then, he shook his head and rose to his feet effortlessly. He looked down at you and reached out a hand, an open invitation.

You held his gaze for longer than you should have before you turned your head back forward to look out the window, resting your chin on your knees. You were grateful to not have to see his reaction.

Still, you could hear his soft sigh. “Get some sleep soon, alright princess?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, suddenly fascinated by the granite. “Soon.”

Your every muscle sat at rapt attention, listening to his footsteps as he walked to the door. They ceased for a minute when he reached it, and you almost turned your head to look back at him – before the hinges finally creaked and Sirius disappeared.

You doubted you would get to spend enough time with him before your games to make the aching panic stop seizing your chest whenever he leaves. You reminded yourself that he is headed off to bed to sleep, not to the annual Hunger Games.

This time around, that would be you.

You turn your blurry eyes back to the window and find that when you stare into the middle of it, it does feel like you’re flying.

229 notes · View notes

kquil · 10 months ago

Text

PERFECT MATCH PART 2

PAIR. : poly!marauders x female slytherin reader

SUM. : despite being from Slytherin, as a fellow prankster, you give the marauders a helping hand

LENGTH : 1.2k

PART 1 | NAVI.

NOT PROOFREAD OR EDITED

Peter had blown their cover, and now the boys were running from Slughorn, who had caught them red-handed, switching the necessary ingredients for the next potion class. They should have known that Peter wasn’t the best choice for a lookout, considering he was the first to get caught and promptly given detention with Filch. As they were running away, however, their camaraderie lingered when Peter called out to them, hoping they wouldn’t be caught.

The remaining three marauders make a valiant effort to run away as fast as possible. Remus stays a good few metres ahead of James and Sirius, his hidden athleticism sparking in only the most dire straits. Despite the potential threat of detention, the three grin widely through the chase; Sirius has the gall to laugh at the sheer amount of fun he’s experiencing. The freedom to break the rules and run freely from the consequences – only light penalisation in his eyes – was invigorating. None of them believe they would ever willingly stop their practical jokes, even Remus, no matter how much he denies it.

Racing through the halls with their youth pumping through their veins, Remus, James and Sirius make it so that Slughorn is considerably far behind them before slowing down. Between laboured breaths, they try to sort out their next move but quickly run out of time. Slughorn was quickly approaching according to their map and they resorted to hiding in a darkened hallway they don’t normally walk down. Consumed by the rush, they had managed to make it down to the dungeons just as you stepped out of the hallway they had barely hidden in.

They weren’t very good hiders but it was amusing so you kept your lips sealed despite your mischievous nature urging you to press them with questions. Your answer came swiftly in the form of Professor Slughorn, out of breath and keeling over with sweat drenching his brows.

So that’s what’s happening~

Immediately understanding the situation, you step out of the hallway to face your gasping head of house and restrain a devious giggle at the sight of the marauders’ widened eyes. They’ve seen you, see them hiding. They’re also familiar with your artfully scheming ways likened to their marauder group’s mischief; the fact that you’re a Slytherin, however, doesn’t bode well. Fuck…were you gonna out them?

You don’t need any prompting, already directing the professor before he’s managed to catch his breath, “Oh Professor~ by the way, if you’d really like to know…” Slughorn eyes you after finally catching his breath. Through the fog of his exhausted mind, he finds himself eagerly awaiting your direction, almost having forgotten why he was in his current state in the first place, “they went that way,” you point to the right, the opposite direction of the three tricksters. James, Remus and Sirius release a collective breath of relief but remain eager to see how the interaction may unfold further.

“Who did?” Slughorn asks, trying to navigate the smog of fatigue clogging up his brain.

“The marauders,”

“They did?” your potions professor brightens at the revelation. You guess he’s finally rediscovered his initial intentions. But woe is me~ can he trust you so easily?

“They did what?” you tilt your head innocently, casually continuing the conversation as if you hadn’t just thrown him for a loop with that curveball of a question.

“Went that way?” he points right, perplexed at your sudden change. It seems Professor Slughorn was still foggy in the head from his sapped stamina and the boys had to bite their lips from bursting out laughing – you’re a menace.

“Who did?” you ask, pulling the most innocuous expression the boys have ever seen a Slytherin muster. Have you grown more beautiful since their last interaction? They can’t help but keep staring at your sweet face and pretty, pouty lips…

“The marauders!” Slughorn insists but you continue your oblivious stance.

“What marauder?”

“But didn’t you just say?-- Oh never mind,” Slughorn gives up the chase and turns with a dull swish of his robes. For now, he’s satisfied that he, at least, managed to get Pettigrew. As soon as Slughorn was far enough away, you turn back to the crouching marauders and give them a wink, signalling that the coast was clear.

“My fair lady!” Sirius dramatically bows down and kisses your knuckles, “How may I ever repay your kind gesture?”

“Hmmm…” you seem to seriously contemplate his playful words for a moment, though Sirius doesn’t mind, he’s more than eager to pay you back for saving his hide. “Let’s see…” You press your hand flat against his chest and slowly move down. The sultry overtones of your gesture make Sirius’ heart pound as he, Remus and James stare wide-eyed and gaping at your soft hands fondling their close friend’s chest. Suddenly your hand becomes a blur as you pull back his robe and steal a licorice wand from his inner breast pocket. “This’ll do~” you chirp innocently and begin to nibble on your newly acquired snack. “I can always count on you to be generous, Siri,” your wink sends a dangerous heat crawling up Sirius’ neck and exploding across his pale cheeks. This has never happened to him with a girl before! He’s supposed to make you flustered!

Turning to Remus, you make a gesture with your hand as if to say ‘pay up’. However, when the tall brunette merely stares at you in wonder with a small, amused quirk on his lips, you raise a brow, “I know you’re loaded, Lupin. Gimme the goods,” and just like that, you also have Remus turning bright pink. How can you be so nonchalant and not realise the embarrassingly sexual innuendos underpinning your words?! Remus surrenders a peppermint toad.

James was the last one of the three you turn to as you pocket Remus’ liberal offer. “You don’t have to ask me, for anything,” James chuckles and easily provides you with a handful of Fizzing Whizzbees. With a victorious smile, like a cute little squirrel who’s happy with her hoard, you pocket James’ addition and lean forward to brush a kiss along his sharp jaw.

“I knew I could count on you, Potter,”

James was floored. Sirius had to lean against the wall and Remus was limp against the large window sill. All three stare with a mix of surging admiration and boyish wonder as you walk away with a skip in your step. You’re so happy, you even begin to hum a soft little tune to yourself.

“...wait… how come only James gets a kiss?” Remus asks, bringing Sirius back from his dazed state. James merely smirks in triumph – he’ll remember the softness of your pretty lips against his skin forever~

“Dearest!” Sirius calls, already jogging after you. “I think you’ve forgotten something!”

“Yeah,” Remus adds with a cheeky grin, leisurely making his way over with James at his side, drawling in his Welsh accent, “gives us a cusan,”

“What’s that?” you’ve stopped, curious as to what he may mean. From his tall height, Remus leans forward, bending at his hips and whispers in your ear.

“That’s a kiss, sweetheart,” he steals one anyway at the base of your ear, where your neck and jaw meet. The high sensitivity of the area makes you squeal in surprise, only to be kissed by Sirius too, who aims innocently for your cheek.

NAVI.

A/N : because of @urmomw4ntsme 's recent ask of wanting to see a Slytherin reader, it got me thinking about this request that i wrote last year for my 1k milestone. I couldn’t sleep until i finished writing this so it may not have the best grammar so please excuse me for that. this was also inspired by this interaction between Alice and the Cheshire cat in Alice in Wonderland.

#james potter x reader #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #poly marauders x reader #marauders x reader #poly marauders #marauders era #slytherin reader #marauders era fanfiction

638 notes · View notes

mischievousmoony · 11 months ago

Note

Omg I love ur James fics. You think you could do one where reader finally feels comfortable getting drunk while going out with their group because she knows James is there to take care of her. Ur drunk reader x James interactions are too cute. I feel like I always have a hard time letting go cause I’m afraid I’ll need to take care of my other friends haha. Love your work!

thank u love! i have fun writing them, i just know james would be so caring! ps thank you for being patient ik this request came in a while ago

𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍

⟢ james potter x fem!reader ⊹ 1.0k ⟢ james gives you courage to have a drink for the first time... but one turns into a few ⟢ warnings/tags: intoxication (i think that’s it but lmk if i missed any pls)

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"But what if Sirius tries to get a new tattoo again?" you ask, twisting back and forth with a steady squeak, squeak, squeak of your barstool.

James clasps his hand on your shoulder, turning you one last time to face him. "Remus is watching him."

"What if Marlene tries to go on another one of her adventures?"

Marlene has a knack for getting herself into precarious situations when she gets drunk, which she likes to call her “little adventures.” Usually, this means going home with a stranger, whether it’s for a hookup or to steal their lightbulbs because they looked at her wrong.

"Lily’s got her.”

"What if I do something stupid?" you ask, now swinging your legs. The nerves eating away at you just won’t let you sit still.

James puts his other hand on your knee, soothing you with a gentle squeeze. "I'm watching you," he says. After thinking it over for a moment, he adds, “And I don't think you'll do anything stupid. Even if you do, I'll do something more stupid so that nobody notices."

This earns him a giggle from you, and he’s happy to see you smiling. He picks up your glass, which is now covered in beads of water, plenty of time having passed for condensation to run its course. He dries what he can with a napkin because he knows you hate when the droplets land in your lap.

You once asked him why it happened, even though you knew the answer. He simply told you it was science.

“Science is stupid,” you had said, eyes fixating on several small spots of water soaking into your jeans.

Now, James wraps your glasses with napkins. He holds out your drink, a black napkin enveloped around it, as he asks, “You want to do this, right?”

You peek into the glass and watch the dwindling ice cubes swirl around in a vodka cran; a drink that James had called “beginner friendly.”

“Yeah,” you answer shyly.

James frowns. “It’s okay if you’ve changed your mind.”

You chew your bottom lip, thinking it over. A part of you wants to forget it, but another part of you knows you’d be disappointed in yourself for chickening out again.

You wrap your hand around the glass, cringing at the squish of the soggy napkin beneath your fingertips. You don’t know what’s worse: this feeling or the water dripping all over you. But James’ attempts to help make you feel warm inside, so you don’t complain.

“No, I still want to do this.”

“Then I’m here for you. Promise.” James gives your knee another squeeze.

You cast a look toward your friends. For years, you've nominated yourself as the designated driver. Or you've claimed to have early morning obligations. You've always felt better knowing someone sober was around to deliver plenty of water and carb-rich snacks to your incapacitated friends.

That was your excuse, anyway. Not that it isn't one of your concerns, but truthfully, something about drinking makes you feel uneasy. You always knew your friends were safe because you've been there, ready to hold back anyone's hair or stray them away from bad decisions. If you drank too, how could you be sure your friends would have someone to depend on? How could you be sure you would have someone to depend on?

Then, you started dating James, and you found a level of trust you never knew was possible. You know you can depend on him for anything.

When you admitted to him why you never drink when you go out, he swore up and down that he would be there for you.

Remembering his promise summons a wave of courage. You shoot James a nervous smile, and take your first sip, scrunching your nose as it burns your tongue.

"This is kind of gross."

James barks a laugh, "We can try to find something you'd like better next round. That is, if you decide to have another."

Feeling brave, you do have another. That's when you discovered something called the Cosmic Lemon Fizz; a drink that sparkles with edible glitter and manages to be blue, green, and yellow all at once. You laughed when you saw it, not knowing how in for it you were.

"Jamie!" you exclaim after taking a sip of your third Cosmic Lemon Fizz. "This tastes like happy feels!" you gasp as if the thought had just occurred to you, despite this being the fourth time you tell him.

"I bet it does!" James cheers. His eyes wrinkle in the corners as he beams at you.

"You should try one!" you declare, and immediately try to flag over the bartender.

James smoothly takes your hand, stopping you as he says, "No can do. Made a promise to a pretty girl that I wouldn't have a drop tonight."

You whip your head around. "Who!?" you ask, eyes wide.

"Who do you think, pretty girl," he says, poking you in the side.

Giggles escape you and you swat his hand away. He doesn't go far, lifting his arm to brush some stray hairs out of your face. His hand lingers on the side of your face, soothing the pad of his thumb against your cheek.

You lean into his touch, gazing up at him with an affectionate glaze in your eyes; a look that gives him butterflies.

"Wowww," you say dreamily. "You're handsome."

James feels his heart flip in his chest. "Thank you, love," he says, a soft smile playing at his lips.

"Hey," Sirius says, appearing out of nowhere as he lazily throws an arm over your shoulders, "How's it going over here?"

While you're distracted with Sirius, James waves over the bartender and replaces your drink with water. The next time you reach for your glass, you hesitate.

"Where's my cosmo magic fizzy thingy?" you ask, an eyebrow raised as you glance at James.

"You must've finished it," he shrugs, acting clueless.

"That's like the oldest trick in the book. You replaced it with water and now you're trying to be sneaky!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," James feigns innocence.

You giggle, bringing the straw to your lips. "I knew you'd take care of me. I love you," you say, happily sipping your water.

James feels another eye-wrinkling smile break out on his face. "I love you too, pretty girl."

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

#james potter x reader #james potter fluff #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x you #james potter oneshot #james potter drabble #james potter fanfic #james potter fic #james potter one shot #james potter fanfiction #james potter #fluff #james potter x drunk!reader #marauders era #marauders fanfic #marauders era fanfiction #marauders fic #marauders fluff #marauders

661 notes · View notes

heaven4lostgirls · 4 months ago

Note

remus lupin x reader PLEEEEAAASSSSEEEEE PLEEEEEAAAAASSEEEEEEE im such a slur for him

pairing: remus lupin x reader

summary: domestic fluff, no real plot

content warnings: mention of remus’ chronic pain surrounding the full moon.

word count: 1k

author’s note: i know you meant slut but your other message also made me laugh, you’re funny😭 i hope you like this xx

“Hey,” you say softly, placing a hand on Remus’ back. The boy is slumped over his seat in the library, blinking blearily up at you as he wakes up sleepily from his slumber.

“Hey yourself,” He returns softly as he smiles tiredly, you hum in acknowledgement, rubbing his back soothingly as he rubs the tiredness from his eyes and sits up to stretch.

“What time is it?” he asks hoarsely, and you laugh softly at the yawn he lets out immediately after.

“Half seven, you’ve missed dinner, Sirius and James said you came to the library to study hours ago.” You mention concernedly and he waves you off.

“Just got a bit tired lovie, nothing to worry about.” He says with a smile; you scoff as you glare at him noncommittedly.

“No worries he says” you mock, “The full moon is in less than a week and instead of taking a nap in your bed, you’ve fallen asleep hunched over when you know how bad it is for your back” you whisper heatedly and watch as Remus winces.

“Okay,” he concedes with a slightly guilty expression, “I’m sorry lovie, I just forgot okay?” he says with a pleading expression.

You exhale a breath, “I’m not mad, you know that.” you say, “I just worry.” You mumble and Remus thinks you may be the loveliest thing he’s ever had the pleasure of encountering.

“I know lovie, I’m sorry I worried you yeah?” he offers as he collects his textbook before pushing his chair back to stand, extending his hand for you to hold.

You make a noncommittal sound, grasping his hand in yours before you attach yourself to his side, sliding your arm around his waist as his own wrap around your shoulders.

You welcome the warmth of Remus’ body heat as you snuggle into his side as the both of you walk the path back to the Gryffindor common room, you two rarely if ever sleep apart, especially the closer the full moon grows.

“Get any studying done?” you ask curiously, your voice echoing slightly through the empty halls of the Hogwarts corridors. Remus huffs a laugh, “I was trying to research the Goblin wars for History of Magic, but I don’t even think I made it past the first page” he says amusedly.

You snort, “Nice, Peter said he’d go the kitchens to get some food for you by the way.” You remember and Remus hums in affirmation.

You two walk the rest of the way in silence before you walk through the entrance of the common room, you’re met with Sirius and Peter playing chess in front of the fire as Regulus and James snuggle up on the couch as Regulus reads softly.

James looks about 5 seconds away from falling asleep as he gazes adoringly at Regulus as he lets his boyfriend’s voice lull him to sleep. He however smiles as Sirius and Peter both wave in greeting to the two of you.

“Your foods on the table, I kept it under a heating charm.” Peter mutters, focusing as he claims one of Sirius’ knights. Sirius curses, staring intently at the board as you take a seat on the couch opposite James and Regulus.

You and Regulus share a small smile and nod before Remus joins the group, plate in hand as he eats slowly. “What book are you reading?” Remus prompts Regulus who straightens up in excitement.

James groans softly as one of Regulus’ elbows catches him in his side, waking him up from his sleepy state as Regulus and Remus dissolve into conversation about the novel in Regulus grasp.

You let yourself disassociate for a second as Remus drops his fork onto his plate mindlessly to grab your thigh, dropping your leg on top of his mindlessly before continuing to eat.

You turn to watch Peter and Sirius’ game as it nears its end, Sirius having significantly less pieces on the board in comparison to Peter’s near perfect lineup.

“My bets on Sirius” Remus murmurs into your hair, you laugh unwillingly, sharing a humorous glance with your boyfriend.

“That’s not nice, he’s trying his best!” you chide teasingly as you watch Sirius tug at his hair in annoyance as Peter obtains another one of his pieces.

You and Remus giggle softly as Peter defeats Sirius only for the long haired boy to immediately claim an unfair defeat and for a rematch. Peter amuses him, setting the chessboard up again as you and Remus turn back to Regulus and James.

“How was quidditch practice?” you ask the two, grabbing Remus’ empty plate from his hands to place it on the side table next to you before disappearing it back to the kitchens.

Remus places a kiss to your temple in thanks before James starts to speak, “It was alright, we have a new seeker, she’s a third year but it’s her first time trying out so she’s a bit shy” James says in pity.

“Marlene mentioned that she sleeps a couple dorms down from her, so she’d try give her some advice.” You mention and James smiles appreciatively.

You turn your attention to Regulus who says, “Slytherin’s doing well but I don’t think we’re going as hard in practice as we could be, everyone’s kind of relying on the fact that we won the house cup last season.” He mutters distastefully.

You nod sympathetically but you can’t help the smile that graces your features as James sours at the mention of Gryffindor losing out on the house cup, “C’mon Jamie, you can’t still be bitter about that can you?” you say teasingly and watch as Regulus’ scowl disappears in favour of a smirk.

James grumbles intelligibly as Regulus places a consoling kiss to his cheek as Remus squeezes your thigh in warning. You look at him with a raised brow as Remus groans softly, “Don’t get him started lovie, he won’t let the rest of us sleep tonight.” Remus murmurs pleadingly and you laugh.

“Alright, alright.” You concede softly, turning back to the Chaser, “Sorry James, I know it’s a soft spot” you snicker, watching as James indignantly sputters before Remus rests his head on your shoulder, groaning in misery as you and Regulus laugh loudly.

#juliwrites #marauders #remus lupin #remus lupin hurt/comfort #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x reader fluff #remus lupin x reader comfort #domestic remus lupin #established relationship #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fic #marauders fanfic #marauders era #marauders era fic #marauders fanfiction #marauders era fanfiction

185 notes · View notes

solsential · 7 months ago

Text

Heavy [Barty Crouch Jr. x Reader]

Summary Barty can’t stay from you but has a weird way of showing it

wc: 1.6k

cw: Barty and his mind games, unclear intentions, kissing, ending doesn’t provide much comfort, Barty being confusing, distress

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” You felt Pandora's eyes on you, her voice calm but tinged with something observant, “Are you alright?”

You shrugged, trying to play it off because truthfully you had no reason to feel upset, or at least you thought so, “Just tired, I guess.”

You tried to sound convincing enough, and maybe you would’ve if it were anyone else, “Well, I won’t make you talk. But if you want to talk…”

“I’m fine, honestly,” you pursed your lips, looking around the common room, “I’m just not feeling the party tonight”

“She won’t leave you alone until you say something.” Regulus teased, sitting down on the arm chair across, leaning back with his recently refilled drink in his hand.

“Oh shut up, I’m just looking out for our friend, unlike some people.” Pandora rolls her eyes, though there is no real bite to her words.

Regulus lets out a quiet, half-amused chuckle at her words before they begin joking and bickering once again. However, in that moment you felt a familiar presence settling next to you. The music seemed to pump louder. You could feel the energy of the crowds that seemed to whirl with energy. Barty. You didn’t have to turn to even look at him to know it was him; you could feel his presence as he lowered himself beside you, his shoulder grazing yours slightly.

Your thoughts flashing between Barty and the strange distance you felt with him. He leaned closer than necessary- always too close and for way too long. His touch lingered, his fingers would sometimes brush yours or his hand rested way too casually behind you. It was subtle, but it always made you uneasy.

Sometimes you’d catch him staring at you from across the room, and he wouldn’t even bother to look away when you’d catch him staring. Some days he was “sweet”. But then, on other days he’d act like you were invisible, he wouldn’t even spare you a glance.

It was maddening. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint when things changed, but they did. And as time passed, it only made it harder to decipher his intentions. One moment, he could be all charm and confidence, wrapping his words around you like they were meant for you only. Then he’d pull away. It made you feel like a fool for even trying to understand him. You would tell yourself that it didn’t matter; that's how he'd always been. You didn’t have to figure him out, even though deep down you wanted to, you wanted more even though you were unsure if Barty was even capable of giving you more. That’s how it’d been with Barty recently.

“You don’t look like you’re having fun,” Barty teased, pulling you from your thoughts, his voice light but a flicker of something else in his eyes.

“I’m fine” you grumbled, shifting a bit uncomfortably and looking forward to the people dancing pretending to look interested, mostly trying not to lose it.

Barty notices your mood, but still doesn’t step back, “Oh come on, you look like someone pissed in your cereal,” He let out a breathy laugh, a smirk tugging his lips upward.

“I said I’m fine, Barty. Just not in the mood.” You roll your eyes.

“Not in the mood, huh?” He smirked, looking at you teasingly, “That’s a first.”

His eyes met yours, and you felt a pang of frustration, you weren’t in the mood, not tonight. Not for Barty and his stupid mind games. “You’re one to talk,” you shot back, feeling his attention on you that you desperately craved, “You’re the one who enjoys making everyone feel like they are a part of your little performance.”

“Maybe I just like an audience.” He smirked, leaning closer and his voice dropping, “Or maybe it's not just an act”

“If it’s not an act then what is it?” you asked, your voice more defensive than you originally intended.

He tilts his head, looking at you closely, studying you as if he is trying to read your mind, “Maybe I’m just trying to get your attention.”

“You have my attention” you said flatly, unsure where this was going.

“Not in the way I want it,” He says a bit too casually, but his face looks a bit contemplative.

You stare at him, confused and in disbelief. What does he mean? I thought you'd made it obvious that he had you. “Barty, I don-”

“Forget it.” He says way too quickly, not even letting you finish your thought before he turns away. Still sitting so close to you, but his attention is no longer on you.

Barty decided to join in the conversation with Regulus and Pandora instead. The conversation around you began to blur, your mind elsewhere as you pretended to listen. You shifted in your seat. His knee brushed against yours, lingering there for a moment. You felt frustrated and confused.

After a while the chatter began to blur around you, you could faintly hear Pandora laughing at something one of the boys said. You felt like you needed to hide or to just be somewhere- anywhere that isn’t here, next to Barty. You stood up, “I’ll be back in a bit.” you mutter before walking away.

You assumed they thought you were only heading to the bathroom or to get a drink. You avoided Barty’s gaze as you stepped away. Christ sake, why were you letting this affect you so much? And what had he meant to say before changing his mind? He had you, what else did he want? What else do you have to do for him to understand?

You slipped out into a quieter corridor. The cool air hitting your skin immediately, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding in for so long.

You didn’t exactly know why you let Barty get under your skin…you had some idea. But it wasn’t like he changed much, he was still the cocky and unpredictable boy he’d always been, you just don’t understand why he had changed with you. You had always been spared of his attitude, so why now? Why the sudden shift?

“Running off like that?” You didn’t have to turn around to once again know who it was, “You’re not trying to avoid me now, are you?” Barty drawled.

“Not everything is about you, Crouch.” You replied, your voice steadier than you were.

“Crouch? Ouch.” He repeated the way you referred to him, chuckling a bit at that and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Why do you do this?” you ask, words slipping out of your mouth before you could even stop them. You’d had enough of whatever the hell this was.

“Do what?” He furrowed his brows, his gaze intently on you that you felt his sharp eyes piercing right through yours trying to understand what you mean, “What am I doing?”

“You- One minute you’re all over me then the next you can’t even bother looking at me.” You draw out the irritation evident in your voice, “I mean, what the hell?”

For a moment he doesn’t respond, the confusion on his face wiping away. You couldn’t tell what the expression on his face meant as he stood there. After a moment, his smirk reappears but this time it looks forced “I’m trying to figure it out. You make it impossible for me to stay away from you,” He finally says.

He steps closer, his sharp (and beautiful) gaze on as he reaches up, his hand caressing your cheek. If it were another time you’d normally swoon over this small touch, however, at this moment you feel angry and confused, but you can’t deny how his touch makes your knees weaken, “Admit it or not, you feel the same way.”

You stand there, utterly shocked. How dare he. How dare he have this effect on you? How dare he dictate your feelings for him and assume, and how dare he be completely accurate?

His hand is still resting on your cheek, his thumb lightly brushing against your cheek. You could hear your heart pounding as your heart rate begins to increase, and you’re convinced Barty can hear it too. He leans down closer, and you could hear your mind screaming at you to pull away, that this was just another one of his games. But you can’t pull away, thinking with your heart instead, the way you always do when Barty is close to you like this.

You could see the struggle in his eyes, hesitant but his lips part anyway. His lips brush against yours lightly, as if he is testing the waters at this very moment, however, you are too far gone to even care. You push your head forward, attempting to catch his lips. Barty smirks when he sees you do this- this little- your thoughts were interrupted when he pulls you in for a proper kiss.

It was hungry and urgent, the kiss was. He pulls you closer to him, placing one of his hands on the back of your neck.

The kiss wasn’t cruel, but it wasn’t gentle. It was his form of a declaration, messy and full of hunger for you. After the kiss has gone on for a while more, he pulls away with an expression that is not quite readable, just like most of his expressions.

“You mess me up” he muttered, his voice breathless and intense.

“Right back at you,” you whispered, “I don’t know if I want to strangle you or kiss you again.”

“How about both?” He smirked wickedly at you before pulling you in again.

#barty crouch jr x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #fanfic #harry potter x reader #barty crouch jr smut #barty x reader #barty crouch jr drabble #barty crouch jr fanfic #marauders era fanfiction #barty crouch jr fic #barty crouch jr x you #barty crouch jr x yn #marauders fanfiction

311 notes · View notes

snakesanddaggers0 · 5 months ago

Text

𝓼𝓷𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓭𝓪𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓻𝓼' 𝓯𝓪𝓷𝓯𝓲𝓬 𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓼

𝙅𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙋𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧

𝜗ৎ Just My Luck - @thatdammchickennugget

𝜗ৎ Teacher!James series - @lupinsweater

𝜗ৎ A Star Between Hands - @luveline

𝜗ৎ I Hate It Here - @agreeeeeeeeeee

𝜗ৎ Bet On You - @santaasi

𝙎𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙪𝙨 𝘽𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠

𝜗ৎ Midnight Strolls and Nosy Portraits - @iamgonnagetyouback

𝜗ৎ The Bolter - @ellecdc

𝜗ৎ Dancing In The Dark - @90slavenderh4ze

𝜗ৎ You Can Hold My Hand If No One's Home - @acourtofchaos

𝜗ৎ Left Behind - @dismalflo

𝙍𝙚𝙢𝙪𝙨 𝙇𝙪𝙥𝙞𝙣

𝜗ৎ A Christmas Special ♡ - @moonstruckme

𝜗ৎ It's Nice To Have A Friend - @crescenthistory

𝜗ৎ Eden - @sunflowersonatas

𝜗ৎ Biting Problem ♡ - @aetherraeys

𝙍𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙡𝙪𝙨 𝘽𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠

𝜗ৎ Holy Hands, Will They Make Me A Sinner? ♡ - @juleswritesstuff

𝜗ৎ 1000 Secret Kisses ♡ - @agreeeeeeeeeee

𝜗ৎ Totally Just The Fifth And Sixth Wheel | Part Two | Part Three - @crescenthistory

𝘽𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙮 𝘾𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙘𝙝 𝙅𝙧

𝜗ৎ I Might Still Hate You by - @unconventional-lawnchair

𝜗ৎ You try and talk Barty down from a fight... unsuccessfully - @ervotica

♡ - includes smut/mentions of smut

#marauders era recs #marauders fanfic rec #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #james potter x reader #barty crouch jr x reader #regulus black x reader #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #regulus black #barty crouch jr #marauders era fanfiction #marauders era #marauders #the marauders #fic recs #marauders fanfiction

722 notes · View notes

sincerelybubbles · 4 months ago

Text

fatigued || james potter x reader

james soothes you like no other, always gentle and easy with you on the days where you can’t manage to be anything other than a puddle.

warnings: none, fluff, reader is bed (couch) rotting, unfinished

James finds you on the couch again, curled into the cushions, half-buried under the same throw blanket that’s been draped over you for days now. Your hair’s mussed, cheeks pressed against the pillow, breath steady and quiet in the dim light of the room. It’s the third day in a row he’s come home to this—your body sinking into the sofa as if the weight of the week has pinned you down, leaving you boneless and tired.

“Merlin,” he breathes, so soft it barely stirs the air. His brow furrows as he toes off his shoes, shedding the day at the door before he pads over to you.

James kneels beside the couch first, brushing a strand of hair from your temple, fingertips featherlight against your skin. There’s a warmth in his gaze, a tenderness that swells in his chest, filling every space where worry had settled.

“Still here, dove?” he murmurs, not really expecting an answer, but the corner of your mouth twitches as if the sound of his voice reaches somewhere deep.

And James—James can’t help himself. He climbs onto the couch, carefully molding his body to yours, slotting himself in behind you as if he’s been made to fit this space. One arm drapes over your waist, pulling you close, while his other hand traces gentle circles against your wrist. His nose finds the curve where your neck meets your shoulder, breathing you in like a remedy.

“‘M here now,” he whispers, barely a breath against your skin. “You can rest, yeah? I’ll stay right here.”

His heart beats steady against your back, and somewhere in the haze between sleep and waking, you let yourself sink deeper into the warmth of him.

James presses closer, his body a steady weight behind you, the heat of him sinking into your bones like sunlight after a bitter winter. His chest rises and falls, the rhythm lulling, his breath fanning over the nape of your neck where goosebumps bloom in its wake. His arm tightens around your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you feel it—all of him—tucking into the spaces where the cold had settled, where the ache of too many long days had made a home.

He’s warmth and honey, sticky and slow, pouring into the cracks you didn’t even know had formed. His hand, broad and calloused in places from gripping a broom and tossing quaffles, smooths over your waist, his thumb brushing back and forth in a lazy pattern, soothing and grounding all at once. It feels like he’s memorizing the shape of you again, mapping out every curve and hollow as if he can press himself into you by touch alone.

“Cold, love?” he murmurs, lips grazing the shell of your ear, his voice thick and low, drowsy with affection.

You hum softly, shifting closer, but there’s no space left between you. He’s everywhere—his thigh warm beneath yours, his chest pressed so tight to your back that you can feel the steady thrum of his heart, a metronome to the stillness that’s settled over the room.

“Not anymore,” you mumble, words slurring as sleep tries to drag you under again, but James—James keeps you tethered with his touch, his thumb brushing lazy arcs against your skin, dipping just beneath the hem of your shirt where the heat of his palm spreads like sunlight.

“Good,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your hair, his lips barely a brush of warmth that lingers long after.

And it’s enough.

The weight in your chest eases, the tightness in your throat loosens, and for the first time in days, you breathe. James is the sun seeping into the coldest parts of you, coaxing warmth from where it had retreated, pulling you back into yourself with every steady, unhurried touch.

“‘M not going anywhere,” he murmurs again, more to himself than to you, his voice barely above a breath, but it wraps around you like a promise.

And this time—this time, you believe it.

Your hand finds his where it rests against your stomach, your fingers slipping between his, lacing together in the quiet. James tightens his hold, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in soft, steady strokes.

“Rest, dove,” he murmurs again, his breath warm against your neck, his body curved protectively around yours. “I’ve got you.”

And he does—he always does.

Time stretches, bending softly around the warmth of James beside you, the steady lull of his voice weaving in and out of your fading consciousness. He’s been murmuring quietly for the past hour, his words threading through the haze of your sleep, talking about his day—how he’d spent half of it helping his dad with a complicated potion that had stubbornly refused to settle, the fumes thick and acrid even after hours of stirring. He tells you how his dad had sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, and muttered something about “the bloody inconsistency of powdered moonstone,” before handing James the stirring rod with a look that screamed “you deal with it.”

“Thought I had it under control,” James murmurs, his lips brushing against your temple, his words blending into the warmth of his breath. “But then it started bubbling over like a cauldron in first-year Potions, and my dad just looked at me, all disappointed. Didn’t say a word, just cast Scourgify and walked away.” He sighs, the sound rumbling low in his chest, though there’s a hint of amusement beneath the exasperation. “And then Mum had to spend an hour scrubbing the ceiling.”

You make a soft noise, half a hum, half a sigh, your body sinking deeper into the cocoon of warmth he’s built around you. But then—then—he shifts, untangling himself with a carefulness that’s almost reverent, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he’s afraid to wake you.

“No,” you mumble, your voice heavy with sleep, latching onto his wrist with weak fingers, eyes barely cracking open as he tries to slip away.

“Shh, dove,” James soothes, his lips brushing over your forehead, but you’re already protesting, your grip on him tightening with what little strength you can muster.

“Don’t go.” Your words are slurred, muffled against the worn fabric of his jumper that smells so much like him—like woodsmoke and something sweet, something James. You shift, untangling your limbs just enough to slouch further into the couch, your face buried in the hollow of his shoulder, a sleepy pout tugging at your lips. “Stay.”

James chuckles softly, the sound a low, affectionate thing that makes your heart flutter.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice warm and indulgent, his thumb brushing over the curve of your jaw as he tries—and fails—to peel himself away. “I’ve got to make us something to eat. You can’t survive on tea and toast forever, you know.”

“Don’t care,” you grumble, burrowing deeper, your nose pressing into his neck where the scent of him lingers the strongest. “Stay.”

James huffs a laugh, and you can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks again.

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Mm,” you hum, a little more awake now but still refusing to loosen your hold. “But you love me.”

“More than anything,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, lingering there as if he can pour every ounce of his affection into the gesture.

But then he pulls back, just enough to look down at you, his hazel eyes warm and filled with that quiet, unwavering devotion that makes your heart ache in the best way.

“Come on, dove,” he coaxes gently, fingers brushing over your cheek before tapping your nose lightly, making you scrunch it up in sleepy protest. “Let me take care of you, yeah?”

You pout again, but this time, there’s no real fight left in you.

“Fine,” you mumble, finally loosening your grip, though you don’t move far, still slouched against him, your head tilted up as you gaze at him through heavy-lidded eyes.

James grins, pressing one last lingering kiss to your lips—soft and sweet, a promise and a reassurance all at once—before he finally, finally untangles himself completely, standing up and stretching with a groan.

“I’ll be quick,” he promises, already moving toward the kitchen, but not before casting one last glance over his shoulder, his eyes twinkling with affection.

“And if you fall asleep again before I get back,” he teases, a wicked grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, “I’m waking you up with kisses. Everywhere.”

The threat—or promise—has warmth pooling in your stomach, and despite your earlier protest, you can’t help but smile as you watch him disappear into the kitchen, your heart swelling with the kind of love that leaves you breathless.

here’s the unfinished draft i promised <3 if u know me u know pmdd is my biggest opp so i hope you enjoyed self indulgent jamie helping reader out

187 notes · View notes

mirclealignr · 4 months ago

Text

for the better | james potter [7.7k]

james potter x fem!slytherin!reader

requested by anonymous wherein james’ love for harmful pranks is the one thing that keeps y/n and james divided.

warnings; alcohol & food consumption, swearing, james being a bit james, mentions of someone like drowning a bit, she / her pronouns used for the reader.

a/n: i’m not really confident on the actual quality of my writing here or this fic at all really, but oh well. have it anyway xxx

James Potter elicited conflicting sentiments from Y/N. He could be selfish, conceited, and aggravating but, in spite of that, he could also be considerate, charming and amiable. Nevertheless, his fondness for immature pranks could infuriate her to the ends of the Earth. He and his friends could oftentimes overdo it, push it much too far, and Y/N could never understand the enjoyment they experienced from humiliating others.

But on the other side of it, the side where James Potter could charm her into almost anything, she saw the sense of fun he sought from everyday life. She saw the young man who thought deeply about things, who could plan meticulously, who was strangely organised and clean. She saw someone who could make her feel as if the only adoration he relished was her own.

But, still, Y/N maintained her vigilance.

“Good morning, Y/N,” called James, spotting her amongst the littered students of the Sunday morning breakfast rush.

Y/N stopped at the entrance to the Great Hall and exhaled, turning around to see the cocky grin stretching across James Potter’s face. With a quick sarcastic smile in return she continued on her way to the Slytherin table without so much as a word.

She could barely admit to herself that she hoped he would follow.

“Oi!” James called after her. “Can’t get away that easily, Y/L/N.”

James delighted in the thrill of the chase.

“What do you want, Potter?” Y/N rolled her eyes, turning to face him before she reached her friends who would tease her endlessly for entertaining him in the first place.

James caught up to her with a little jog, ignoring the Slytherins giving him a distasteful eye as he whisked past them.

He shook his hair about, letting it fall back into its natural place. “Er, just wondering if you’d…started the Potions assignment yet,” he shrugged, clearing his throat.

“Really, James? You wanted to know if I had started the Potions assignment, due tomorrow, that much?” She cocked an eyebrow.

Well, of course not, James thought. He just wanted to talk to you. “Yeah, thought you could give me some pointers, if you had.”

She shook her head, strolling further down into the Great Hall, avoiding her friends’ mocking stares. “Yes, I’ve finished it, actually. And no, why don’t you ask Remus?”

“Lost a bet with him. Can’t get any help off him for another two weeks,” admitted James, sighing.

“Well, you’ll have to find someone else, then. Or just…do it yourself?”

James feigned a breaking heart and winced. “You’d do that to me?”

“You’re more intelligent than you give yourself credit for, Potter. Now piss off, I want to eat.”

James stood still.

“Go on!” She shooed.

This time, he scurried off, obeying his instruction. But when he reached Sirius, Remus and Peter, he was not himself. They could spot it immediately and their eyes honed in on the Y/N across the Hall laughing with her friends. They turned quizzically back to James who was more than happy to reveal the reason behind his altered demeanour.

“She complimented me,” James swelled with pride. “I told you I’d get her to come round.”

Sirius didn’t believe it for an instant. Remus cocked a suspicious eyebrow, and Peter was busy eating his cereal. James looked at the three of his closest friends, the boys he would do anything for, and their disbelieving expressions with disappointment. It was betrayal.

“You’re all dead to me.”

Remus sighed, putting his novel down. “Now, Prongs, what else did she say?” he probed.

James spluttered, scoffed and waved his hands. What did it matter? She complimented him and she meant it. Everything else was simply besides the point, a mere subtext to the main event. He picked up two slices of toast, buttering them rather aggressively as Sirius and Remus waited for an answer.

“She told him to “piss off,”” said Peter between mouthfuls.

James chortled in pure disbelief, almost choking on his first bite of his freshly buttered toast. He quickly looked to Remus and Sirius who hid their smirks rather pathetically. “How did you know that’s what she said?!”

“I didn’t, but that’s what she usually says,” laughed Peter, joined by Sirius and Remus.

“Just you wait,” James promised.

It had taken nearly six years for James to seize Y/N’s attention. These days she’d actually have a conversation with him, she’d even laugh at the jokes he made just for that very reason. That, and to watch her smile grow. He hadn’t thought much of Y/N in the beginning, considering she was a Slytherin and he was a Gryffindor. But as he grew older, a little wiser, both him and his friends had realised these divisions weren’t all they were cracked up to be. Sure, some Slytherins really were evil, but a lot of them weren’t. Some Ravenclaws were rather dopey, some Gryffindor’s a little too cowardly.

It didn’t matter to him anymore.

As Remus headed to the library and Peter to the dorms, James chatted with Sirius, bringing up the idea of a prank to shake up the Monday morning to come. Sirius wasn’t so sure, but he could easily be persuaded. They walked through the halls of Hogwarts brainstorming ideas all afternoon, winding through the corridors before finally heading outside to enjoy the June sun.

“It’s perfect, Padfoot, we just need Moony and Wormtail in on it too.”

“You know them, they’ll be up for it,” winked Sirius, lying back on the patchy grass not far from the Whomping Willow.

James leaned against the trunk of a tree, fiddling with a daisy in his hand as he thought of Y/N, now that his distraction had taken its leave. If only he could make her see he was worth her while. He pulled blades of grass from the soil below, ripping them to shreds as he thought of some way to make her see that she was missing out by not giving him a chance. He could be utterly perfect for her.

“What are you two doing being so quiet?” Asked Y/N, blocking the sun from Sirius’ face as she stood over him.

“Relaxing, Y/L/N. You should try it some time, maybe you wouldn’t be so uptight,” remarked Sirius without even opening his eyes.

Y/N rolled her eyes and turned to James. “Something on your mind or?” She nodded to the pile of ripped up grass at James’ feet.

He looked down sheepishly. “No,” he said bluntly, unable to think of an excuse or a sarcastic response to keep the conversation flowing.

Y/N felt a small pang of embarrassment and went to go on her way. Had she upset him earlier? They always spoke that way to each other, she thought, it was just part of their banter.

James hit his hand to the floor muttering a profanity under his breath as he shot up. He hesitated before going after her. Over the past weeks he struggled to know what to say to her like he used to. For a while he thought he was losing his touch or that something in her manner had changed his own. But she was just as she was before. It was him who had changed.

“Wait up, Y/N!” He shouted.

Y/N spun around, scrunching her brows together in confusion. As she waited for James to catch up, she wondered what he could have to say to her that he couldn’t have said before when she was clearly making an effort to talk.

“Sorry about before,” James said, “Don’t know why I just said that.”

She melted into his apology. “It’s okay. Are you alright?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah I’m all right. You just caught me thinking, that’s all,” James laughed, taking slow steps with her towards the castle.

“What were you thinking about?” Asked Y/N. “Not your Potions assignment, surely?” She laughed.

James laughed too. Merlin, he did love to hear her laugh. “Of course not, I’ll just get an extension for that or something. No, just thinking about what Sirius and I have planned for tomorrow.”

Y/N tensed. She hated that they were always scheming, that he was. “Not another prank?”

James quickly felt himself become defensive, though he wished he could have stopped it. “What’s wrong with that?” He snapped.

Y/N stopped, turning to James. Behind him was the view of the tumbling Scottish hills, shades of green spilling over onto one another, all the way down to the water that shimmered in the sunlight. She leaned over the side of the bridge, and James followed her.

“I just don’t get it, James,” she started. He loved it when she called him by his name, his first name. “School is hard enough, you know? We’re all just trying to make it through to the end when we can finally feel safe enough to be ourselves. For most people, they can’t be themselves here, they’re just trying to fit in so things aren’t so hard. You and your mates make it that much harder for all of us. You always seem to single out the people who just want to be invisible.”

James felt almost as if he was being attacked. She’d never said anything like this before. “You never seemed to mind before,” James grunted.

“Just because I didn’t say anything doesn’t mean I didn’t have an opinion. Just thought you’d grow out of it, is all,” she shrugged, continuing her slow walk back to the castle.

So really, this whole time he never stood a chance. She was baiting him? He couldn’t help but take this as a personal attack, as much as he wanted not to do so. “I don’t understand-”

“No, you won’t understand,” sighed Y/N. “I’m not trying to attack you.”

She traced his thoughts as easily as a well-worn path.

“I’m just saying I don’t think you realise how harmful your stupid pranks can be for people who already have it hard.”

“They’re just pranks.”

“But they’re not. Publicly humiliating people is not a prank, it’s cruel. Haven’t you ever thought, after all these years, there’s other ways to make people laugh without hurting them?”

James was taken aback. She’d suggested something no one ever had done before. Did he really do this sort of thing just for attention? Sure he liked the way it made him feel, the way people laughed because of something he had done, the way people greeted him in the corridors, knew his name before he had introduced himself. But he hadn’t realised it might have all started because he wanted people to see him. It was just fun, wasn’t it?

That’s all it was.

But before he had the chance to tell this to Y/N, the person whom he needed to convince, she was gone, thinking perhaps it really was best to keep her distance.

- - -

James had spent days thinking over what Y/N had told him, about the can of worms she had opened inside him. He didn’t go through with the prank he had planned for that Monday morning, and had not thought of following through on any of the ideas the rest of his friends had come up with either. All he could think about was Y/N and what she had said.

The hours he spent mulling over it had done some damage. Perhaps he was just in it for the way it made him feel, knowing so many people adored him or at least liked him. The way first years knew who he was before any of the professors, the way they looked up to him. The laughter he brought to the school and the swell of pride he felt in hearing it. But after he thought of this with much gratification, he lingered on the other side of it.

How many people had he left crying in their dorms, frightened to come to class and see him again? He remembered one Slytherin he’d fed vomiting candy to - Merlin, they spewed their guts up all over the classroom. He had never once thought how he would feel if it had happened to him, because his friends would never do that. They were the instigators, not the receivers. He wondered how many students avoided him any chance they could. He wondered at the empty seats next him in the lessons he didn’t share with Sirius or Remus.

It was tedious, he had never had to think of all these repercussions before.

“James, mate, what is wrong with you lately?” Sirius asked, settling into an armchair by the common room fireplace.

James shook his head, twirling his wand between his fingers, eyes pouring into the fire in front of him. “What if we changed the way we pranked people?”

“What do you mean?” Asked Sirius, waving Remus and Peter over.

- - -

The next morning James enacted his plan. It was elaborate in the way that he had to be up nearly all night with Remus, Sirius and Peter to make sure it worked. He hadn’t really spoken to Y/N much since their conversation nearly a week ago but he was desperate to see her smile. He was desperate to make her smile, in the hopes it would break the tension between them.

Being the reason for her smile made him feel as if he had accomplished something worthwhile.

The four of them sat in the Great Hall, anxiously eating their breakfast as they waited for it to begin. Sirius was not at all confident - it was so unlike them, so ‘off brand’ as he had described it. Remus, on the other hand, quite liked the idea and was committed to its success. Peter hated it, but didn’t care as long as James stopped dragging through the days - for he had been awfully boring as of late, Peter thought.

James fought to look behind him to the Slytherin table, but at least twice every few minutes he failed. He watched her for as long as she permitted him to - for as long as he went unnoticed. It was Y/N, in fact, that alerted him to the beginning of their stunt. She turned to the doors of the Great Hall as the first of the owls swooped in, dropping various letters at a plethora of tables.

“I’ve got a howler,” a student gasped from the Hufflepuff table.

One of their friends consoled them with a pat on the back and a sigh. “Just get it over with.”

The Hufflepuff was about to rip open the sealed letter when another student behind them declared they had received one too. At first, they had imagined it as coincidental bad luck, but there began a chorus of students admitting the same fate. Y/N looked around in confusion as students began to stand and show their respective howlers. And then she knew. Her eyes flickered to James in a silent rage, knowing he had not grasped the gravity of her words, that he had absorbed nothing, and that her words that day had been taken by the wind, scattered amongst the hills of the highlands.

None of the students had opened their howlers as of yet, waiting for the last of them to be delivered from the owls still filtering in and out of the hall. She watched James through the rain of letters, keeping her eyes fixed on him until a letter of her very own fell onto her plate.

As the last owl departed, students began looking around apprehensively at each other, soundlessly deliberating on who would be the first to open their howler or if anyone would open one at all. But it was a Slytherin who opened theirs before anyone else, watching as the letter assumed sentience and hovered in midair. It said nothing, simply popped with a quiet bang and exploded in confetti. The Slytherin watched it, speechless and in shock.

One by one, students began opening their howlers, and the hall was soon filled with low pops and colourful confetti. The coloured pieces of paper hung aloft, painting the bland stone walls in coloured refraction as the sun shone through the tall windows. Y/N watched the scene with a radiant smile that had slowly drawn across her face. Finally, Y/N opened her own howler and watched it pop, exploding with confetti and flowers, floating down from a short distance above her table down over her hair and plate.

She caught James’ eye across the room, laughing with her friends. She said nothing, mouthed nothing, gave him nothing but a smile. But to James, this was enough.

They were talking again like they used to, becoming more intimate than they had ever been. Something had shifted within their relationship and James felt the more he learned about her, the harder he began to fall. Y/N felt as if distance from James Potter was the last thing that would make her happy.

He talked to her about music, muggle movies, even books, though he had read very few. They talked about their ambitions, about their favourite foods and hobbies, their favourite ways to spend a sunny afternoon.

“A bunch of people are going down to the Black Lake this Saturday,” Y/N said, looking at James, “Are you going?”

“I might be,” James smirked, “Do you want me to?”

Y/N blushed, shaking her head. “Don’t get too cocky, Potter.”

Yes, James thought, she wanted him to. Good.

“Yeah, I’m going,” he said softly.

“Good.”

James felt his stomach churn as a warm rush swirled through his body. His heart beat with such ferocity at the mere notion of Y/N wanting to be near him. He was both intoxicated and exhilarated from the mere presence of her. How he yearned for Y/N. If only he could prove himself to be worthy of her. He knew she would only bring out the best in him, he knew she would open his eyes to new ways of living which before, he could but dream of.

James knew he needed her, he just wished she wanted him.

- - -

He could not wait another minute to head down to Black Lake. She was probably already there, and he was losing precious minutes. There were simply not enough seconds in the day for him to admire Y/N the way she deserved to be admired. He rushed with heat in his cheeks and warmth in his heart to the lake, his friends flagging behind. He saw her from a distance, lounging on a picnic blanket with her friends, a nearby tree providing them with shade, though the both of them sat in the sunlight that everyone knew was not to last in Scotland and must be taken advantage of.

He felt his heart pumping the blood through his body. She looked truly beautiful.

“James is staring at you,” Y/N’s friend teased.

“Good,” she laughed.

The sun shone through him, she could see his beauty even from this far. Though she knew the moment she woke up that this was going to be a good day, and that she was happy in the friends she had and the life that she had built, she didn’t really feel happiness until she saw James. Yes she was happy, but he made her feel so.

“He’s coming over,” her friend hissed in excitement.

“All right, Y/N?” Asked James, strolling over to their designated tree.

“Just fine, Potter. You’re here a bit late, you know? All the good trees have gone.”

James laughed, looking around. “Shame. Wonder if anyone would be willing to share.”

Y/N looked around at the many students that had flocked to the lake to enjoy the sun. They were all in their own worlds, enjoying their own days. “Doesn’t look likely.”

Y/N enjoyed the moments that led up to what she wanted. “Oh, you mean you want to share with us?” Y/N looked toward her friend who only rolled her eyes.

She had given prior permission had James acted out this very scenario.

“I suppose you can share with us, if you have to.”

“My goodness, Y/N, how kind of you,” James bowed in thanks, eliciting a small chuckle from her.

He waved his friends over and settled next to Y/N and her friend beside their tree. James sat nearest to Y/N. He stared at the side of her face, the way her neck accentuated when she turned her head, the way her cheeks plumped when she smiled.

After nearly an hour chatting amongst themselves, Sirius and Peter left to walk down to the shore. The two of them were complaining of the heat and fancied a cool down. Soon after, Remus offered Y/N’s friend to join him in dipping his feet in the shallow shoreline. She obliged his request, winking at Y/N before she left.

Her cheeks flushed as she waved her off dismissively.

“And then there were two,” laughed James.

Y/N laughed too, turning to really focus all her attention on him for the first time since he had joined them nearly an hour ago. James suddenly felt under a spotlight, it was as if perfection was asking for him to imitate her to his greatest ability, and yet he knew he was to fall short.

“Err, I- You look nice,” James stuttered.

It was amusing to see him this way, but she almost took pity. “Thanks,” laughed Y/N.

She put him at ease, just the way she looked at him as she always did. He fell into his usual rhythm, chatting and teasing and joking with her. He felt more connected to her than he ever had been. He shifted closer, and she could feel the heat radiating from him. It ignited her with such an intensity she couldn’t help but shift uneasily, fiddling with her fingers and breathing a little more unevenly than before. James could think of nothing more natural to do at this moment. And as it so happened, there was nothing he longed for more than this.

He leaned in, breath hitching as he caught the scent of her perfume she’d applied hours before in the early morning. He watched the fine hairs on her neck stand up on end. As his eyes flickered to hers he realised her gaze had softened, her pupils wide, anticipating his next move.

“James!” Sirius called from the water. “He’s gonna kill me!”

Upon hearing his name James turned to its origin. Peter was waterboarding Sirius.

“Fuck,” he breathed under his breath.

Y/N had already been snapped from her reverie, and was laughing awkwardly as Sirius flailed around in the water. James, though extremely disappointed, laughed along with her before dragging himself up and heading to the shoreline.

The moment was lost.

Y/N watched intently as James stripped his clothes, leaving him in nothing but his boxers, for he had not thought he would be entering the water that day. He preferred staying dry. With her mouth agape, Y/N examined the grooves of his body and the way his skin stretched over his toned muscles. How she wished they hadn't been interrupted. It felt as if she had waited a lifetime to embrace James - there was always something in their way.

More often than not, it was James himself.

James launched himself in the water, coming up for air and sweeping his sopping hair back. After a few moments of tearing his friends apart, Y/N watched the three of them discuss something. She instantly became nervous, but checked herself and calmed down, believing James to have taken her advice on board. But as she watched the three of them lift their wands, she couldn’t help the way her heart skipped a beat.

Sprinkles and spirals of water danced above the students in the lake, forming creative and pretty shapes, conjured by James and his friends. While everyone was distracted by the shimmering water droplets playing a scene in front of them, none of them noticed the series of waves headed towards the body of students.

In an unrelenting sequence, towering waves crashed the shallow end of the lake, filling it almost to neck height. Students screamed and laughed, swimming to safety. Some chuckled in annoyance, some in good humour. There were few who cursed James out and others who scurried away in a quiet rage. But Y/N, with her heart pounding and legs carrying her faster than they ever had before, was screaming in terror.

“Stop! Stop!”

She forced herself into the water, sinking below the surface, swimming with such purpose. James had not noticed her yet, too caught up in the heat of the moment with his friends, taking pleasure in their antics. It was Remus who first caught a glimpse of Y/N waving frantically before launching herself back under the water, seemingly searching for something.

“James! Stop!” She pleaded.

Y/N searched desperately for the Slytherin girl. Desperately in fear. Finally, with one more piercing scream for James to stop what he was doing, he heard her, and put a stop to the incoming waves in an instant. Y/N looked around the water, searching and searching for signs of movement as the height of the lake slowly decreased and returned to normal.

A hand reached above the surface, silently pleading for some sort of relief. Y/N rushed forward, grabbing her with such a force, pulling her to the surface. The poor girl coughed and spluttered, accumulating as much as oxygen as she could in a single breath.

James and the others rushed towards her, helping Y/N drag her out of the water. Though the girl clung to Y/N as she reached safety, she left her in the capable hands of her friend.

"Y/N, I'm sorry, I didn't know."

“What is wrong with you? She can’t swim!” bellowed Y/N.

She threw her hands to her head, shaking it in shock and disbelief, trembling with adrenaline and fury. She really thought James was susceptible to change. “I thought you were done with this sort of shit, James. She could have died! She could’ve-”

Oh, but it didn’t matter. What was the point of screaming when it all fell to deaf ears? Sometimes people weren't meant to intertwine.

But still she felt so disappointed in someone she saw such capability, such potential in, that she thought she could cry there at that very moment in front of everyone. The moment she felt as if he really was lost to her.

“This is over, Potter.”

- - -

James had not been himself for weeks.

He could not forgive himself for what he had done - to the girl, to Y/N, to himself. He cursed that day as his undoing. He was unkempt, uncaring and could think of nothing but Y/N, though now she would not even grace him with a look. He had never seen someone so disappointed in him, had never cared for others disappointment in him. He had never learned the type of humility that came with adhering to the expectations of those who esteemed him.

He had never wanted to.

He enjoyed where being selfish got him. At first, Sirius tried to persuade him that James shouldn’t want Y/N to change him anyway, that he shouldn’t have to, just for some girl. And he was right, he shouldn’t have to change. He didn’t want to change. He wanted to be better, for her. But at the same time, he didn’t want to lose what made himself James Potter.

Pranks had become the way in which James expressed himself. And it was the only way he knew how to communicate with Y/N now.

After weeks of self pity and wallowing, James pulled himself together, more determined than ever before. This wasn’t about a feeling he wished to maintain, about a popularity he desired to be upheld. It was about admitting he was wrong and that he could do better.

He started off slow, cautious. He knew this was important to win back her trust. He started by pretending to be McGonagall’s secret admirer - flowers, chocolates and love letters written on her black board all causing sniggers in class whenever it was brought up. Harmless fun.

Then he moved onto bigger things.

James managed to steal a few personal items of some fellow students. A pair of shoes, a quill, a textbook. When people finally began to realise, James announced at dinner that he had hidden these personal items and would offer a Galleon to all those who managed to locate the whereabouts of their personal belongings. If they did not succeed in the next twenty four hours, they were not to fear, James would return them all safe and sound.

James’ efforts had not escaped Y/N’s notice, not in the least. She wished beyond anything it could be enough to fix what he had broken, to mend what he had handled so carelessly. She had almost resigned herself to the notion they didn't belong, but a glimmer of hope kept her awake during the nights, hoping she might be wrong after all.

She could feel him watching her, gauging to see whether her feelings toward him were changing. She kept her cards close to her chest, and gave nothing away, hoping James would not see through her carefully constructed shield.

While she valued his efforts, it was not enough. She still felt as if she had overstepped her boundaries and that she should have left well enough alone. Besides, she couldn’t begin to trust him again until he did the unthinkable.

“Apologise?!” James scoffed.

“It’s a completely logical solution!” Remus retorted.

“I know! Don’t you think I haven’t thought of that? But I- I can’t. I wouldn’t know what to say,” James sighed and shook his head.

He’d never had to apologise above more than a quick, half-hearted “sorry, mate” with a slap on the back and a swift moving on. He didn’t know how to truly convey his feelings into an apology, how to make it sound like he meant it.

“All you’ve been talking about is making it right with her,” Remus reminded him. “This is your chance.”

James knew he was right, but this did not take away from the fact he still did not know how.

- - -

Y/N had been trying to study for three hours now, but was always distracted by something outside the castle walls or some sound within the library. She couldn’t concentrate, she could think of nothing else but how much she wished James could understand or at least show that he was trying. But, as violently as she craved this, she didn’t want to force some kind of change on him and end up being resented for it in the end.

She shouldn’t have to change someone in order for them to fit her standards. And James shouldn't feel obliged to change for her either.

If she wanted him to change at all, it was only to see him succeed.

Change. So complicated, so understudied. What did it mean to change? What really was it, at its core? What did it mean to her, to James, to love and to hate? How closely and blurred the lines of love, hate, desire, and resentment really were.

For another hour she tried to write notes on the theory of Charms. In the end, Y/N thought, she just wanted to talk to him, to hear his thoughts and listen. Even if nothing came from it, she yearned for some sort of closure. At least then, she might be able to move on. Nonetheless she pushed James to the sidelines, pushing that small sliver of hope down into the depths of her memory.

Meanwhile, James was pacing the Gryffindor common room. Everything sounded wrong, fake and disingenuous. Regardless, James began to search the grounds of Hogwarts for his target, practicing some sort of speech in his head as he did so.

“Y/N?” Someone pulled her from her day dream.

James himself.

“Oh, hey.”

“Can we talk? Can I talk?” James asked.

Y/N nodded to the seat in front of her. She closed her textbook and waited for what he had to say.

“Look, I’ve always been a bit…selfish, a bit shallow. Never really thought to be anything else ‘cause everything’s always worked out for me the way I wanted it to,” he began. “I-” James shook his head. This was pointless.

“Fuck. Okay, I just want you to know that I’m sorry about what happened. Not just because it upset you and it might have ruined my chances, but I’m sorry about the girl and for what I did to her. I’ve already set things right in that respect and don’t get me wrong, it felt good to do that, but I’ll never be right until I fix things with you. Or at least try to,” he explained, rambling. “I don’t want you to feel as if you’ve changed me or that I have to change for you, I don’t think that’s how it should work. But since I’ve gotten to know you I’ve wanted to be better and I have been. I like the way you make me feel, I’ve liked the way I’ve felt from doing things differently. Merlin, anyway, now I feel stupid. I’m just sorry.”

Y/N listened without judgement, without interruption. She thought for a moment, letting James absorb the silence. He was certainly going lengths to make amends, and she appreciated his candor, his efforts. She couldn’t help a small smile perch upon her lips as she looked over at James, so sullen. What she was afraid of was not coming to fruition.

The person she desired could still be hers if she wanted him to be.

“Thank you,” she smiled.

James lit up. “You forgive me?” He asked.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think too. I think it was unfair of me to put those kind of standards on you. And I don’t think it was your intention, for once, to hurt anybody that day. It was reckless but it wasn’t malicious. Yeah, I forgive you.”

“Thank Merlin,” James let out a sigh of relief and he knew he could put his final plan into action. Something he had been planning since the day he met her, he just didn’t know it. "By the way, you didn't force anything on me. I didn't change for you, but you showed me the person I could be and I liked the way he looked."

Y/N didn't know what to say, only smiled softly.

“I um-” James rubbed the back of his head. “I missed chatting with you.” He could actually feel the heat burning in his cheeks.

“Me too, Potter.”

She felt the familiar feelings she had for James bubble to the surface once more. She was no longer concerned with keeping them in check. So easy it was for James to earn her forgiveness.

- - -

Y/N saw James again the next day at breakfast, just as she was finishing up. She headed over to his table, greeting his friends before asking if she could sit.

James found this a little odd, she’d never bothered with his mates before.

“All right?” James asked, playing it cool. He didn’t want to embarrass her, whatever she was doing.

“Yeah, thanks. So listen, my friend is throwing a small party tonight down by the Forbidden Forest. I know, I know, probably a bad idea but there’s a few people going, not just Slytherins,” Y/N eyed the four of them. “She said we could invite people, so I wondered if you guys might like to go?”

Remus and Sirius smirked at each other knowingly, while Peter eagerly accepted her invitation. James stared at her, a brilliant smile adorning his features.

Merlin, she was beautiful. And she wanted to spend quality time with him.

“Yeah, we’d love to go,” James answered for the rest of the group.

James spent the rest of his day deciding what he should wear and thinking about the possibilities this party could present. Down by the Forbidden Forest, Y/N drenched in firelight. His mind swam amongst the potential.

“Ready to go, Prongs?” asked Remus.

James nodded, flicking the collar of his jacket up. He was as ready as he’d ever be.

Y/N waited by the fire, eyeing the direction of the castle, keeping her eyes fixed to the last piece of land the fire illuminated. She’d been waiting a mere ten minutes but it felt like an age. Where was he?

She didn’t quite know why she had been so bold as to invite him and his friends to this party. She wasn’t sure what she thought it would achieve, if it would achieve anything. What she knew was that she liked the way James made her feel, she liked that she felt important to him.

“Can you chill out? Have a beer or something,” her friend offered her a freshly opened bottle.

Y/N took it off her hands and took a swig, turning from the empty abyss ahead and instead focussed on the party. Her friends were already a few beers down by the time she had arrived; she had a little catching up to do.

Meanwhile James had taken a shot of firewhiskey on the way down as liquid courage. Sirius was patting him hard on the back, hoping this would somehow help the spluttering that followed his single shot.

“Wimp,” Remus sighed.

“Fuck of, Moony.”

Remus shook his head in disappointment, taking a swig of firewhiskey straight from the bottle and moving onwards towards the Dark Forest. Peter caught up with him, asking for a drink, but Remus only laughed.

James recollected himself, smoothing down his hair and flicking the collar of his jacket up once more, ignoring the burning in his stomach. He continued down the hill to the Dark Forest, seeking the light of a blazing fire until finally, he saw a flicker of orange in the distance. There, Y/N would be waiting.

“Why do you even bother with Potter?” Asked her friend.

“I don’t know. There’s more to him.”

“There’s not much more, lad’s a kiddy pool.”

“Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it isn’t there.”

“Whatever,” her friend laughed. “If you’re hung up on him, then I’ll support you.”

“Hung up on who?” asked James, approaching.

Y/N smacked her friend’s arm, she’d done that on purpose. “No one!” Y/N lied, turning to face James.

He looked…nice.

James let it go. “All right?”

Y/N nodded. “I’m a couple bottles down, so yeah, I’m pretty good,” she laughed. “Want a drink?”

“I’d love one.”

James and Y/N all but abandoned the party for each other’s company. They talked more than they had for quite a few weeks. James was elated with how easily they fell back into rhythm. It was so easy to talk to her, he felt he could reveal his deepest secrets without even knowing he’d done so, even if she hadn’t asked. But, he didn’t really have any. He was, for the most part, an open book.

And this is what Y/N liked. James was all on the surface. And because of this, sometimes it was hard to see who he was, because he laid it all out on the table, everything mingled together, everything messy and unorganised. One really had to look at James to understand him.

But she read him like he was a language only she knew how to translate.

The embers of the fire still burned hot, but the fire itself had long fizzled out. The cold summer air nipped at Y/N’s skin, and James could see the shivers trembling through her body. Most had returned to their dorms, but there were the odd few still sitting around the fire, chatting with their friends.

“Here,” James wrapped his jacket around Y/N’s arms.

She shifted closer to him as he wrapped his coat around her, looking up at his flushed cheeks and messy hair. He looked like someone she could love. Y/N had been waiting at a crossroad, stoic in this stillness as she waited. James, sometimes lost in the detours, had finally reached her. This moment had been building to its peak for an age.

“Y/N-” but he was brutally interrupted.

“Filch!”

Everyone scattered. James took Y/N’s hand and led her behind a tree on the edge of the Forest away from the light of the fire and safe from Filch’s wandering eyes. He’d no idea where his friends had gone, and Y/N had no idea where hers were either. What she was agonisingly aware of, was that James had pushed her against a tree, watching the surrounding areas for any movement. He hadn’t realised how close to her he was. But she had.

She felt James’s entire body flush against hers. His hand wrapped around her wrist, his neck pulsing with concern. The snap of a twig sounded in nearby proximity, and James instinctively brought his hand to Y/N’s mouth, silencing the gasp he knew was about to pierce the silence and alert someone as to their whereabouts.

Y/N felt her blood pumping in her veins, the heat rising to her face, her heart pounding in her chest. She wanted him.

“Prongs? Is that you?” Someone whispered.

James seemed to know what this meant, and responded with a low ‘yes.’

The marauders and Y/N snuck their way back into the castle without being caught and James left the rest of his friends to escort Y/N back to her common room. She thanked him at the door, finally letting go of his hand that she had been clasping ever since they had been hiding in the Forest.

James wished he could have kissed her then, but he let her close the door behind her, and walked away with a quiet ‘good night.’

The next morning however, he spurred his plan into action. He spoke to people he never thought he’d have to, and never wanted to again. But it was worth it for the outcome he was hoping for.

He knew this was to be his most elaborate “prank” yet. And if it was successful, it would be his most rewarding.

The weekend could not come fast enough. Throughout the week he and Y/N shared lingering looks, caught each other staring from across the classroom, passed stupid doodles, laughed at cheesy jokes and pick-up lines that James had learnt from Sirius. He sat in the library with her while she studied; he watched, mostly.

And while the week had been one of the best he’d had so far, he couldn’t help but wish for it to go faster. And when Saturday morning finally arrived, he was more than ready.

Y/N woke early in the morning, preparing for a day of studying, again. She showered quickly, got dressed and headed out of her common room for the Great Hall.

“Hi Y/N,” her friend greeted, handing her a rose.

“Uh, what’s this?” she asked.

“A flower? Are you stupid?”

“Bite me,” she chuckled. “Thanks?”

But she only smiled and walked away. Odd.

She carried on her way, heading up the great staircase, happening upon no one else until she reached the top.

The Slytherin girl said nothing, simply handed her another rose and scurried off. Y/N stood dumbfounded for a moment, looking at the two roses in her hand before shrugging it off and walking onwards. People are weird, so what?

When she reached the Great Hall doors, one of her Ravenclaw classmates called out to her.

“Wait up!” He called, holding out a rose for her when he caught up.

“What the Hell? Are you asking me out or something?”

“No,” he sniggered.

Y/N took the rose and watched him walk off, more confused than ever. She almost wanted to turn back to her common room and stay there for the rest of the day, safe where no one could find her. Something was off.

But upon hearing her stomach growl, she braved the Great Hall and entered cautiously. Big mistake. Before she even got to her table, she’d received three more roses, practically holding a bouquet now. She just couldn’t understand this. Was there some kind of holiday she didn’t know about?

Quickly shoveling down two pieces of toast, Y/N took herself and her roses out of the Great Hall and all but ran to the library where she could study in peace. But on her way she encountered two more people with two more roses. She couldn’t take this anymore, what was going on?

It wasn’t until she saw Remus, Sirius and Peter standing at the doors in the library, a rose in each of their hands, that she realised this was all a joke, a mindfully constructed prank. She couldn’t help the smile that rose to her lips as she neared the boys. Accepting each of their roses, she thanked them. Following her thanks, they each outstretched their arms, inviting her inside where James awaited.

Rose petals adorned the library floor, all the way to the aisle she had been studying in for weeks now. There, upon the desk that was wedged between the bookshelves, was a bouquet of roses. And James.

He smiled effortlessly, a single rose in hand.

“Hey,” she laughed in disbelief.

“Hello, Y/N,” James smiled.

“How’d you pull this off?” She asked, in awe of his efforts for her affection.

“Doesn’t matter, love. What matters is whether you will agree to go on a date with me,” he said, handing her the last rose as an offering.

“Where?”

“That’s for you to find out, if you accept.”

Y/N laughed, giving into her instincts. She wrapped her arms around James’ neck, inhaling his scent, feeling his skin against her face, his arms holding her, running up her back.

“Yes,” she whispered, closing her eyes, holding him tighter, relishing in the feeling of finally having him.

Such relief. Y/N felt her new peace, her home wrapped in skin and flesh and a heartbeat. James.

She could feel him pulling away from this embrace, and she loosened her grip to look at him. His eyes were hooded, taking all of her in.

“Finally,” he laughed, connecting his lips with hers in a fiery embrace that set their bones on fire.

tags 🏷️: @foolexby

to join my tag list !

#james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x self insert #james potter fanfiction #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter #marauders #marauders fandom #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #marauders fluff #marauders era #marauders era fic #marauders era fanfiction

292 notes · View notes