m4rauders-st4rs

[m4rauders-st4rs]

☆ 𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ☆

𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 ~ 𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠!

online idle offline

𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐒 ~

𝐭𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐤 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭

𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐔𝐒 𝐋𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑!𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐒𝐋𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

[m4rauders-st4rs]

𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐔𝐒 𝐋𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

🌺 - comfort 🌹- smut 🥀 - angst 🌷- fluff 💐- violence 🪻- drugs 🍄- platonic 🌻- romantic

IN PROGRESS

[m4rauders-st4rs]

𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

🌺 - comfort 🌹- smut 🥀 - angst 🌷- fluff 💐- violence 🪻- drugs 🍄- platonic 🌻- romantic

IN PROGRESS

[m4rauders-st4rs]

𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

🌺 - comfort 🌹- smut 🥀 - angst 🌷- fluff 💐- violence 🪻- drugs 🍄- platonic 🌻- romantic

Don’t fall for him ~ red white and blue inspired series, presidents son! james potter x royal!fem reader 💐🌻

Ridiculously in love with you ~ fem!reader with pots has to sit down in the shower, boyfriend!James to the rescue 🌺🌷🌻

[m4rauders-st4rs]

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

🌺 - comfort 🌹- smut 🥀 - angst 🌷- fluff 💐- violence 🪻- drugs 🍄- platonic 🌻- romantic

Get your hands off her ~ fem!reader x poly!marauders , Snape bothers her at a party but the marauders quickly step in. (this one contains harassment) 🌺🥀🌷🌻

[m4rauders-st4rs]

𝐒𝐋𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

🌺 - comfort 🌹- smut 🥀 - angst 🌷- fluff 💐- violence 🪻- drugs 🍄- platonic 🌻- romantic

𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘

Through the rain ~ fem!reader x bcj sorta slow burn, reader realises she likes barty and what better to do than avoid him?

[m4rauders-st4rs]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

🌺 - comfort 🌹- smut 🥀 - angst 🌷- fluff 💐- violence 🪻- drugs 🍄- platonic 🌻- romantic

𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑

Everyone knew, except them ~ merlin how oblivious could Remus and Sirius be before one of them realised?

𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

(Not so hidden) Feelings ~ her parents knew, his parents knew, but harry and reader were clueless to their feelings

[m4rauders-st4rs]

𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑!𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒

🌺 - comfort 🥀 - angst 🌷- fluff 💐- violence 🪻- drugs 🍄- platonic 🌻- romantic

Bad days don’t last forever ~ reader has a god awful day at school but her dads are ready to comfort her

First kiss ~ reader has her first kiss with non other than harry potter (Sirius flips out)

I don’t need friends, i have you ~ turns out reader hasn’t got many friends at school, but her dads are there to reassure her

[m4rauders-st4rs]

𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 ♡︎

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ~ 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐮𝐩. 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐲, 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ~ 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 (𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐬) 𝐬𝐲𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐬, 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬/𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭, 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ~ 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬? 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

you’ve just finished your shower and it feels like the steam hasn’t left your lungs, the bathroom mirror is fogged, your towel is wrapped around you in this kind of haphazard way like you’re trying to hold yourself together and not slide sideways into the floor but honestly that’s exactly what happens, your body just goes nope. not today. so you sit down, right on the tile, knees pulled up, head leaned back against the cabinet because everything is heavy and your heart feels like it’s trying to run a marathon in there. and that’s when james potter finds you.

he’s knocking first, all casual like, “love, you gonna be long? sirius is threatening to steal all the biscuits if i don’t come back downstairs soon,” but then he opens the door without waiting because that’s so very james of him and the second he sees you on the floor he’s frowning, like full on dad frown but on his face it’s just kind of endearing.

“sweetheart?” and he crouches immediately, hands on your knees, peering at you like you’re a puzzle he’s determined to solve, glasses sliding a bit down his nose.

you’re like, “don’t freak out, i’m fine, i just… need a sec.” and you try for a smile but it probably comes out a little wobbly because your head is still cotton.

and he doesn’t argue, he doesn’t make that oh-my-god-you’re-on-the-floor face, he just nods, like he knows. like he’s been doing his homework (because you know he has, james potter would research the hell out of pots if it meant making you feel even a tiny bit more comfortable).

“alright then,” he says, and sits right down next to you on the cold tile, towel still dripping against the floor. “we’ll just take a sec. or two. or as many secs as you like. i’ve got plenty to spare.”

you laugh a little, which makes your chest loosen, and rest your head against his shoulder. “you’re going to ruin your socks.”

“for you? i’d ruin all my socks.” he’s dramatic, of course he’s dramatic, but you can feel the way his hand is rubbing little circles against your arm, steady and grounding, like he’s trying to coax your pulse back into something manageable.

there’s a silence that’s not heavy, just soft, bathroom-quiet except for the drip of water off your hair and the hum of the pipes, and then he goes, “you know, i reckon we could move a chair in here. proper throne for post-shower recovery. i’ll even embroider your initials on the cushion. very regal.”

you snort, nose scrunching. “you embroider?”

“i could learn. i’m a man of many talents.” he grins, nudging your temple with his. “besides, i’d do anything if it means you don’t have to sit on this bloody hard floor every time.”

you’re a little dizzy still but the warmth in your chest makes it easier. “you’d look ridiculous trying to embroider.”

“ridiculously in love with you maybe,” he shoots back, so quick you don’t even have the chance to groan at how sappy he is before he’s laughing at his own joke.

eventually, when your heartbeat doesn’t feel like it’s trying to tap dance anymore, you whisper, “okay, think i can stand now.” and he pops up like he’s been waiting for the cue, offering both his hands, making a whole show of bowing like, “milady, may i have the honor,” until you’re giggling again, leaning into him for balance.

and the thing is, he doesn’t let go once you’re steady. towel, damp hair, wobbly legs—he just tucks you against his chest like it’s the most natural thing in the world, kissing the top of your head before declaring, “right, now you’re forbidden from doing anything else strenuous. i’ll be handling all post-shower duties from here on out. drying hair, fetching pajamas, dramatic serenades if requested—”

“serenades are not requested,” you interrupt, but your smile gives you away.

“ah, noted,” he says, smug as ever, “but highly recommended. side effects include falling even more in love with me, which, let’s be honest, you’re already helpless against.”

and you roll your eyes but you let him wrap you up anyway, because honestly? you kind of are.

[m4rauders-st4rs]

no this is so real because i always say R-edge but then heard others saying R-egg and got confused 😭 but then if its R-egg is it R-egg-ulus?

Reg as in r-edge or as in r-egg

Okay I used to be a HUGE R-egg believer but then I got a cat and named him reginald and now I call him redge for short and....

I don't know.

Either.

Both.

Depends on the vibes of the fic, I think

[m4rauders-st4rs]

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 🪽

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ~ 𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐉𝐫—𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞-𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐞. 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐚 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ~ 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬/𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ~ 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐤𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐟 𝐢 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐮𝐩?? 𝐥𝐦𝐤!

it starts with looks. that’s all. just glances across the great hall, fleeting, harmless, something you could brush off whenever james caught you zoning out mid-conversation. because obviously you weren’t staring at him, not at barty crouch jr, not at the slytherin boy with the sharp jaw and sharper tongue, the one who seemed to exist solely to make everyone around him miserable. it wasn’t staring, it wasn’t anything, it was just—curiosity. that’s what you told yourself, over and over.

except then it became something else. his eyes started finding yours, lingering too long, not smiling, not acknowledging, but looking. like he saw you. like maybe he was curious too.

and suddenly you were in the library, somehow sitting across from him, books spread between you and barty leaning back in his chair with that infuriating little smirk that made your stomach flip. he argued about everything, poked holes in your essays, needled you until you were red in the face, and still you came back. because underneath the cruelty and the sharp edges was a mind so quick it left you breathless, and you hated it, you hated him—except you didn’t, not really, and that was the problem.

so you stopped. you avoided him. ducked down different corridors, skipped the library, ignored the looks he kept throwing across the hall like darts aimed straight into your chest. because you realized. you realized you had a crush on barty crouch jr and that was unacceptable, ridiculous, a betrayal of everything your brother stood for. james would actually combust if he knew, so you ran.

but barty noticed. of course he noticed. and when he cornered you outside transfiguration, voice low and sharp—“what did i do? why won’t you look at me? if you hate me, just say so”—you couldn’t answer. you shoved past him instead, heart in your throat, and left him standing there with something raw in his eyes that haunted you for days.

until the storm.

the rain hammered against the castle windows, the great hall loud with chatter, and you were tucked between james and sirius, laughing too hard at something stupid because maybe if you laughed enough you could drown out the ache in your chest. and then the doors slammed open.

barty crouch jr, soaked to the skin, hair plastered to his forehead, water dripping down his robes, marching straight through the middle of the hall like a scene out of a bloody novel. every conversation cut off, every head turned, the sound of his boots echoing on stone as he walked. straight to you.

he stopped right in front of your table, dripping all over the floor, and his voice came out rough but steady, loud enough for everyone to hear: “why?”

your stomach dropped. “why what?”

“why are you avoiding me? why won’t you look at me anymore? if you hate me, say it. if i disgust you, say it. but don’t just disappear.”

the silence was deafening. james was halfway out of his seat already, sirius gripping his sleeve, remus watching like he was seeing a car crash in slow motion.

and you—god, you couldn’t hold it in anymore. you shot to your feet, voice cracking but far too loud, “i don’t hate you!” the words echoed across the hall and oh, you’d done it now. his eyes widened and before you could stop yourself you blurted, “i like you, alright? that’s the problem! i like you and i didn’t know what to do so i ran. happy now?”

the gasp that went through the hall could’ve blown the roof off. james made a noise like he was choking. but barty—barty just stared, water still dripping down his jaw, and then he kissed you.

right there, in front of everyone, lips crashing against yours like he couldn’t hold back another second. and you kissed him back, because how could you not, because the whole world tilted on its axis and it was rain and warmth and the way his hand curled at the back of your neck like you belonged there.

and then—

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?”

james. of course. practically leaping over the table to murder him, sirius and remus both restraining him while the entire hall erupted into chaos. barty pulled back just enough to smirk, still close enough for his breath to brush your lips, and shot james a look so smug you thought your brother might actually combust. “kissing your sister, potter. thought that was obvious.”

james screeched. sirius was wheezing with laughter, remus pinched the bridge of his nose like he was done with all of you, and you—you just buried your face in your hands because oh god, oh god, you’d just confessed in front of the entire school and kissed barty crouch jr and now james was swearing vengeance.

but barty’s hand found yours under the table, squeezing gently, and when you peeked up he wasn’t smirking anymore. he was smiling. soft, private, just for you.

and despite the noise, despite james ranting threats at sirius who was now crying with laughter, despite knowing your brother was going to drag you into an argument the second you were alone—you didn’t feel like running anymore.

because barty crouch jr had kissed you, and you had kissed him back, and maybe, just maybe, that was the beginning of something worth all the chaos in the world.

[m4rauders-st4rs]

this is insane! thankyou so much to everyone who likes! 🫶🏻

[m4rauders-st4rs]

i fear i need a part 2 to first kiss🙏

i wrote it a while ago but forgot to link it anywhere, sorry! part two of first kiss: The dinner

[m4rauders-st4rs]

𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ~ 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐲!𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐆𝐫𝐲𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐚 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐬𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ~ 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐮𝐧𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬, 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐜, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭, 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐬, 𝐞𝐰, 𝐮𝐧𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡, 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ~ 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞. 𝐠𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠-𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬!

The Gryffindor common room was alive in a way it only ever was after a Quidditch victory. Music charmed too loud for the old walls, enchanted banners waving themselves, red and gold light spilling across everyone’s faces as they cheered, drank, and danced. You were tucked in the corner at first, laughing at Sirius’s dramatics on the table, his voice echoing over the music as he recounted—again—the exact moment James had scored the winning goal. Remus was beside you, sharp smile hidden behind his drink as he murmured commentary under his breath, and Peter had taken to collecting abandoned sweets like treasure. Your boys were radiant, flushed with victory, and more than once you’d caught yourself grinning just watching them. Everyone knew about you and the Marauders—there wasn’t really a way to hide it anymore, not with Sirius’s penchant for kissing you in public just to get a rise out of James, or James introducing you as “our girl” without the faintest bit of shame, or Remus’s quiet, steady affection that slipped into view whenever he thought no one was looking. No one minded. Or at least, no one brave enough to mess with them.

At least, that’s what you’d thought.

You hadn’t noticed Severus at first. You’d been trying to slip through the crowded room for a butterbeer, ducking past girls on the dancefloor and dodging spilled drinks, when suddenly his voice was too close.

“You don’t really belong with them, you know.”

You stiffened, hand tightening around the neck of your bottle. He was standing too close, his words brushing your ear in a way that made you lean instinctively back.

“Excuse me?”

Severus tilted his head, eyes flicking over you in a way that felt assessing, calculating. “Black, Potter, Lupin—they like to collect things. Don’t you ever feel like just that? A prize they’re showing off?”

You swallowed. The air felt thicker, the music pounding behind your ribs. “That’s none of your business.”

His smirk pulled at his mouth. “I could treat you better. Differently. They don’t deserve—”

“Stop.” Your voice was sharper now, trying to push through the fog of noise. You shifted, putting a hand against his chest to create space, but he leaned closer instead, catching your wrist before you could retreat.

The nausea hit hot and fast. Your heart was racing now, pulse thrumming in your throat. “Let go of me.”

“Don’t waste your time with them,” he pressed, words low and insistent, and you could feel your chest tightening, a bloom of panic clawing its way out as he ignored your attempts to move.

Your voice rose without you meaning it to, clear over the echo of music and chatter. “I said let go!”

It was instant. You barely registered the sound of your own voice before you saw James pushing through the crowd like a force of nature, Sirius practically at his heels, Remus not far behind. The three of them closed in with such speed it left your head spinning, their presence overwhelming and grounding all at once.

James’s voice cracked like thunder. “Get your hands off her.”

Sirius didn’t bother with words at first; his hand was already fisting in Severus’s collar, yanking him backward so fast he had no choice but to stumble. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Snivellus?”

Remus was at your side, hand warm and steady on your arm, pulling you slightly behind him. His tone was quieter than the others, but there was steel beneath it. “She told you to stop.”

Your chest hitched, breath stuttering as you realized how hard you were shaking. Sirius’s knuckles were white around Severus’s robes, James standing just at his side, jaw set tight, fury burning in his hazel eyes.

“She—she was upset—” Severus started, but James cut him off with a harsh laugh that had none of his usual brightness.

“Don’t even try. You don’t get to corner her. You don’t get to talk to her.” His wand was in his hand now, pointed casually, dangerously low. “If I ever see you touch her again—”

“Prongs,” Remus’s voice broke through, steady, measured, though his hand never left your back. “She’s what matters. Not him.”

James’s eyes flicked to you then, the anger in them softening just enough when he saw your trembling lip, the sheen in your eyes. Sirius caught it too, his grip loosening only so he could shove Severus backward into the nearest table, sending drinks spilling everywhere. “Go,” Sirius spat, “before I hex you so hard you won’t crawl out of the dungeon for a week.”

Severus’s mouth opened like he wanted to argue, but the sight of three wands at the ready and the unmistakable edge in Sirius’s snarl must have been enough. He sneered, muttered something under his breath, and finally turned, shoving through the crowd until he was gone.

The music and chatter rushed back in, but it all felt muted around you, like your ears were underwater. Remus guided you into the corner, away from the eyes that were undoubtedly staring, and James crouched in front of you almost instantly, hands hovering like he wanted to touch but didn’t know where.

“Sweetheart,” James murmured, “are you alright? Did he—did he hurt you?”

You shook your head quickly, the tears spilling faster now. “N-no, I just—he wouldn’t stop, I told him to, I—”

Sirius was kneeling beside James now, expression softer than you’d ever seen it, his hand already reaching for yours. “Hey, hey, don’t do that. Don’t blame yourself, love. He’s the one who couldn’t keep his filthy hands to himself.”

Remus knelt too, finally letting his hand smooth over your back in slow, grounding strokes. His voice was the calm in the storm. “You did exactly the right thing. You told him no. You shouted. We heard you.”

Your lip wobbled, and you let out a shaky laugh through your tears. “I didn’t mean to—ruin the night—”

“Ruin the—are you mental?” Sirius cut in, his laugh sharp but not unkind. “You could never ruin it. Not you.”

James nodded fervently, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek now that you let him. “The only thing ruined is Snape’s night. Ours is still perfect, because you’re here, with us.”

Remus pressed a kiss to the side of your head, steady as ever. “We’ve got you. Always.”

The noise of the party faded into nothing after that, your boys crowding in close, shielding you from the world, their warmth and voices a cocoon you didn’t realize how desperately you’d needed until you let yourself sink into it. Whatever else had happened, you weren’t alone. You never would be.

[m4rauders-st4rs]

𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐀𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐭𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜 ✧

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ~ 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐖𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧, 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 — 𝐢𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐲, 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭’𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞-𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐞����𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ~ 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬-𝐭𝐨-𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠-𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐭𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜, 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚/𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐢𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞, 𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐒𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝, 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞-𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐯𝐮𝐥𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ~ 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. 𝐠𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠-𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬!

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Your father’s voice was calm but final when he told you it was time to return to England. The official explanation was duty — a royal schedule, an appearance at a charity dinner, meetings with advisors. The truth was less glamorous: you’d spent three days in America, and it was long enough to test the world’s patience for headlines of you and James Potter bickering on camera.

At the same time, James had been summoned back to D.C. by his parents. His father, the President, wanted him at a press briefing. His mother needed him for some charity gala.

Which meant, mercifully, you wouldn’t have to see James for a while.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

The goodbye at the airport was awkward. Of course it was.

“So,” James said, hands shoved in his pockets, curls messier than usual, “off to be regal.”

“And you,” you replied coolly, “off to pretend you’re important.”

He grinned. “Ouch. And here I thought you might miss me.”

You adjusted the strap of your carry-on. “I’ll try not to.”

He leaned in slightly, just enough to make your breath catch. “Try harder.”

Before you could snap back, Sirius appeared behind him, dragging a suitcase and smirking. “This is disgusting. Stop flirting in public.”

“We’re not flirting,” you and James said at the exact same time, which made Sirius cackle so loudly half the terminal turned to look.

Remus, trailing behind with a book in hand, simply muttered, “You two are exhausting,” before heading toward security.

James winked at you once, quickly, like he thought you might miss it. And then he was gone, swallowed into the crowd.

You told yourself it was relief you felt. Not disappointment. Definitely not disappointment.

Back in London, the palace walls felt stifling. Your mother insisted on appearances at luncheons and charity teas, smiling at dukes and duchesses who pretended not to gossip about the photos splashed across tabloids.

The Princess and the President’s Son: Feud or Flirtation?

Royal Scandal Brewing Across the Pond.

You hated them all.

By the second night, you were pacing your room, staring at your phone, glaring at the blinking cursor in an empty email draft. You didn’t even know his official address — Sirius had slipped it to you with a smirk before boarding his flight, muttering, “In case you get bored of hating him.”

You stared at the screen for a long time before finally typing.

To: James Potter

From: [Your Name]

Subject: Don’t get used to this

You were terrible at reading to those kids. I only laughed because your pirate voice was atrocious. Consider this a public service announcement.

You hovered over “send” for a good minute. Then you pressed it, threw your phone on the bed, and buried your face in a pillow.

It took less than an hour for him to reply.

To: [Your Name]

From: James Potter

Subject: Re: Don’t get used to this

You’re lying. They loved my pirate voice. I’m basically an international treasure. And admit it — you missed me already. Don’t worry, Princess, I miss you too.

Your stomach flipped. Absolutely not. You were not letting him win.

To: James Potter

You’re insufferable. Don’t email me again.

To: [Your Name]

So… what you’re saying is, I should email you again?

To: James Potter

No. I meant exactly what I said.

To: [Your Name]

Got it. Emailing you again tomorrow, then. Cheers.

You groaned, collapsing backwards on your bed. This was a mistake. A colossal mistake. And yet, when your phone buzzed the next morning with a new email, your heart leapt.

Days blurred into a rhythm. Public appearances, carefully curated smiles, and late nights spent hunched over your laptop, exchanging increasingly ridiculous emails with James Potter.

He told you stories about the White House staff sneaking him cookies from the kitchen. You told him about tripping over your dress at a state dinner and pretending it was “a royal bow.” He teased you about tabloids calling you “the ice princess.” You teased him about tripping over his own shoelaces in front of reporters.

And slowly — painfully slowly — the snark began to soften.

I know I’m supposed to hate you, you typed one night, but you make it very difficult sometimes.

You don’t hate me, came his immediate reply. You never did.

Your fingers hovered over the keys, heart pounding, before you shut the laptop without answering.

Because maybe he was right.

And maybe that terrified you more than anything.

taglist ~ @imobsessedwithtaylorswift

[m4rauders-st4rs]

just about to add a new chapter to one of my fics and i’ve been asked to make a taglist by a few people. if you’d like to be in the taglist for when i post, send it to me through an ask along with your username 🩶

[m4rauders-st4rs]

𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 ✽

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ~ 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫. 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐚𝐬 ‘𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬’. 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡, 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ~ 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫!𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭, 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 / 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭, 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐮𝐩𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ~ 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐮𝐩𝐬𝐞𝐭 😭 𝐢 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞. 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐢𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝. 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐝𝐨 𝐰𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫? 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐦𝟒𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬-𝐬𝐭𝟒𝐫𝐬 𝐢 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟!

Harry hadn’t meant for it to sound so bad, not really. He’d just been sitting at the kitchen table with Remus while Sirius rummaged noisily through the fridge, asking for biscuits that weren’t there, and Harry had mentioned offhandedly that his cousin always sat alone at lunch. “She doesn’t seem to mind, but… I don’t think she has any real friends,” he said, fiddling with his glass of pumpkin juice. Remus had paused, brow creasing, and Sirius’s head poked out of the fridge with a frown. “What d’you mean, no friends?” Sirius asked, as if Harry had just said something impossible. Harry shrugged, suddenly regretting opening his mouth, but it was too late—the damage was done. Remus thanked him gently, told him not to worry, but Harry could see Sirius already bristling like he was about to march into the school and demand answers.

So later that evening when she dragged her bag through the door, hair mussed from the autumn wind and a permanent scowl set on her face from the day, she wasn’t expecting both her dads waiting in the sitting room like they were planning an intervention. “Rough day, pup?” Sirius asked casually, though his voice was a little too careful. She dropped her bag with a thump and muttered, “You could say that.” She went to flop onto the sofa but Remus’s quiet, steady voice stopped her. “Can we talk to you for a moment, love?”

She froze halfway to sitting, narrowing her eyes because that tone never meant anything good. “Talk about what?” she asked warily. Sirius patted the cushion beside him, a forced grin tugging at his mouth. “Nothing scary. Just… something Harry mentioned.” That made her stomach twist. She sat anyway, arms crossed tight over her chest. “What did he say?”

Remus glanced at Sirius, then back to her. “He was worried. He said he noticed you don’t really spend time with anyone at school. That you’re often by yourself.” She blinked at them, heat rushing to her face, equal parts humiliation and anger. “Oh my god,” she muttered, groaning into her hands. “He told you that?”

Sirius leaned forward. “He didn’t mean it badly. He just cares, like we do.”

She dropped her hands and glared. “Well he had no right. And you don’t have to worry, okay? I’m fine.”

Remus’s brow furrowed deeper. “Sweetheart, are you sure? It can feel lonely—”

“I’m not lonely!” she snapped, sharper than she intended, but the words ripped out before she could soften them. “I don’t need… I don’t need stupid friends at school, alright? I have you.” She jabbed a finger between them, heart hammering now because she could feel the prickling of tears behind her eyes and she hated it. “I have you, and that’s enough.”

The room went very still. Sirius’s grin slipped away completely, his eyes wide, almost stricken, like she’d said something tragic instead of reassuring. Remus’s lips parted but no words came out at first. He looked as though his chest had caved in.

She bit down hard on her lip, turning away because now the tears were threatening to spill. “I don’t care if people at school don’t like me. They’re boring, and they don’t get me, and they wouldn’t get… us. I’d rather be alone than sit there pretending to laugh at their jokes. So I’m fine. I’m fine, I swear.” Her voice cracked on the last word, betraying her.

Sirius reached for her hand instantly, squeezing tight. “Oh, baby girl…” he whispered, his voice rough, and it only made the lump in her throat worse. Remus’s hand was on her shoulder, warm and steady, his thumb rubbing soothing circles though his own face looked heartbreakingly sad. “You’ll always have us,” he said softly. “Always. But you deserve more than just us. You deserve people your age who see how brilliant you are.”

She shook her head fiercely, pulling her hand back to swipe at her eyes. “I don’t want them,” she muttered, though the wobble in her voice betrayed her again. “I want you. You’re my best friends. Isn’t that enough?”

Sirius swallowed hard, and for once he didn’t try to joke his way through the pain. He just leaned over, pulling her against his chest, wrapping her tight like he could protect her from every cruel empty lunch table. Remus shifted closer, wrapping his arms around both of them, murmuring against her hair, “We’ll always be enough for each other. But you don’t have to choose, love. We’ll help you, if you’ll let us.”

She buried her face in Sirius’s jumper, not answering, too exhausted and too raw. And though she wouldn’t admit it out loud, some small part of her wished Harry hadn’t noticed at all, because now it was real, and now her dads were looking at her like their hearts had cracked clean in two.