#barty has a filthy mind

[lulublack90]

Prompt 7 - Spike

@rosekillermicrofic April 7, word count 412

Previous part First part Wolfstar series part 1

“Wow, she never does that,” Evan said, surprised as the little black cat began to purr in his arms. Barty scotched her head and the purring intensified. 

“Hi, Mavis,” he said, grinning down at the sleek, black-haired cat in his arms. Barty had always liked cats. He was a bit wary of dogs. He had to really know the dog before he was comfortable around them, but cats, cats he just got on with.

Mavis wouldn’t let him put her down, so when he followed Evan into the kitchen, Mavis came too, cradled against his chest, her bright green eyes staring up at him. 

“How do you take it?” Evan asked as he filled the coffee machine and started fiddling with the knobs. Barty felt his heartbeat spike, and he let out a quiet choking sound, feeling his cheeks begin to turn pink. He quickly became very interested in stroking Mavis’s tummy. 

“Erm, black is fine,” he mumbled, not looking up. 

“Oh my god! Don’t do that!” Evan gasped. 

“Do what?” His hand stilled. 

“That!” Evan pointed at his hand. He looked down and Mavis battered playfully at his hand. He moved it again and she stopped. Evan stood there with his mouth hanging open. “How, how are you doing that?” Barty shrugged. 

“Cat’s just like me,” he chuckled quietly as Mavis’s bright green eyes slowly began to close and, just like that, she was fast asleep. 

Evan led him into the living room once the coffee was made and the éclairs were on plates. Barty sunk into the plush sofa cushions and sighed. He’d always wanted a sofa like this. It felt like a hug, but his father insisted on black leather. They were always cold, just like his father, and as his father owned his flat and furnished it, he wasn’t allowed to replace it. It was one of the reasons he loved staying at Remus’s. That sofa was amazing. Well, that and being around Sirius and Remus. They were his best friends and that was the hardest thing about all the mess with Walburga and Orion being over. There was no reason he needed to stay with them any more. 

He came back to the present when Mavis rolled over and curled up on his lap. He was happier right now than he had been in weeks. Since he'd left the Potters.  

"So, how've you been?" Evan asked, picking up his éclair and taking a big bite of it.  

Next part

[veritas-scribblings]

radiate - @bartylusmicrofic - words: 1,244 [warnings: discussions of religion]

There’s this church in Mayfair. Every Sunday at 11am, Barty goes to the park opposite and sits on the fence and chain smokes as he waits patiently to catch a glimpse. A glimpse is all he needs. It will sustain him, fuel him for the week to come. It will nourish his soul. Save him. Raise him up. Lift him high.

It never takes Barty long at all to spot Regulus. He’d spot him blind in the dark. He knows Regulus from the way Regulus carries himself. From the line of his shoulders, which are always so tense. From the scowl permanently written across Regulus’s face as though the mere existence of the world deeply offends him.

Barty takes a long draw from his cigarette and blows smoke into the air. Regulus always looks like the weight of his thoughts have grown heavier each time he leaves that church. Like someone has laid his all of his sins out before him. Regulus already has a complex relationship with religion (his family is already a fucking cult) and whatever bullshit they’re spewing behind those walls is only further complicating things.

Regulus glances across the road. He knows that Barty waits there each Sunday. Walburga knows too, Regulus says, and makes disparaging comments about “that boy” who sits on the fence and smokes. “A filthy, disgusting habit,” she will say. “Only sinners smoke.”

Regulus’s gaze lingers on Barty for just a moment, and in that moment Barty is sure Regulus can read his thoughts. Meet me, he thinks desperately, the fear and longing a mangled, dark monster within him. Meet me. Come to me. Fuck your church and fuck your God. Let me save you.

Come evening, the rain falls in sheets and the wind is unforgiving. Barty is chilled to the bone, to his very soul, and it isn’t just the wind and the rain that batters against him as he stands on the footpath outside the church. It’s the weight of everything bearing down on him: his fears that he isn’t enough to save Regulus, his fears that he will lose Regulus to his family, that the Blacks will devour Regulus whole and leave only the empty shell of Regulus behind.

When Barty was younger, during his ‘cusp of adolescence’ years, he would sometimes find himself oscillating between ‘it’s probably better not to tempt fate’ and ‘let’s fuck around and find out’. Like he would enjoy nothing more than to climb a ladder to the roof of their school’s building and flip the sky the bird so he could wait and see if Regulus’s God will smite him where he stands.

These days, Barty is just sure there’s no higher power involved in anyone’s lives. It simply would not make any sense. Because if there is, the higher power is a sick and twisted son of a bitch unworthy of anyone’s worship.

“I’d say at this stage that what you’re doing is almost considered harassment,” Barty says. “Give the woman a break, she’s heard it all. Multiple times.”

This is the way Barty sees it: the God that religion wants is a woman, the God that religion has is a man. No further explanations needed.

The church in Mayfair is dimly lit inside. Regulus sits in the pews, his forehead resting on the backs of his hands, which grip the pew in front of him. He’s praying, Barty knows. Or more like, he’s harassing his God with every thought and worry he has in his mind. And Regulus has an endless supply of thoughts and worries…so Barty supposes to some extent that having an invisible counsellor makes some sort of sense.

When Regulus doesn’t look up, Barty says, his voice husky and cracking, “Fuck your God. All the boring sons of bitches go to heaven, anyway. I reckon hell’s where the party’s at. We’ll fuck on our way down, enter hell with a bang.”

This gets Regulus’s attention, as Barty knew it would, because Barty is nothing if not an expert at poking Regulus’s buttons. Regulus has never quite understood how Barty can be so very blazé about things such as who loves whom, and who has sex with whom, and who has knowledge of who loves whom and who has sex with whom. Whereas Barty has never quite understood Regulus’s hang-ups. It’s not so much that love and loving others comes naturally to Barty; it’s just that he’s more of the ‘who gives a flying fuck what others think’ party.

And Regulus has never been able to separate himself from what others might potentially think.

Barty slides onto the bench next to Regulus. “You ran away the other day. Before I could say I—” Barty places his hand on top of Regulus’s, which is cold and gripping the back of the pew tightly, “Reg, I love you,” he says hurriedly.

There’s something missing in the air between them, the way that Regulus would have once said, “I love you, too,” so easily. Before Barty had refused to keep ignoring how things had changed between them and love no longer meant "I want you at my side", but instead, "I want to keep you inside me".

Barty surges forwards and kisses Regulus. It’s a closed-mouth kiss, taking Regulus off-guard so that he is for a moment paralysed with how to respond. They’ve done this before, back when they were fourteen and Barty had wanted to try out kissing and trying it out on Regulus, his forever best friend, had made so much sense to him.

That, back then, had been a chaste kiss. This kiss is anything but. It’s desperate and fierce, messy and intermingled with tears that Barty is sure are Regulus’s. And this kiss is very much one-sided as Regulus doesn’t respond immediately, though he also doesn’t push Barty away. He merely lets himself be kissed, lips parting ever-so-slightly, like he thinks that if he is not an active participant in the interaction that he cannot be faulted for it.

“I love you,” Barty breathes against Regulus’s lips, and Regulus makes a sound that is so broken it chips away at Barty’s heart. Because how can Barty make Regulus understand the enormity of his love for him? How can Barty make Regulus understand that he’s loved him for years in every way it’s possible to love someone?

“Barty,” Regulus breathes out, and in his name Barty hears, I love you, too. And, I need you, too.

Pressing back into the kiss, Barty pulls Regulus so close that Regulus all but crowds into his lap. Finally, Regulus responds and the kiss is no longer one-sided. Warmth pools low into Barty’s belly. He slips his hands under Regulus’s shirt to run over the smooth, warm skin of Regulus’s back. There is barely any space between them, and Barty can feel through Regulus’s movements in his lap that Regulus is quickly unravelling.

Barty slides his hand up Regulus’s neck to tip his head back and deepen the kiss, licking into his mouth. He wants more than he has wanted almost anything else. He wants to watch Regulus come apart. He wants to feel him, hear him, experience him.

He knows that it’s a bad idea to do this in a church, particularly one with a congregation so conservative, but Barty’s never met a bad idea he doesn’t like. And Regulus’s God can come for Barty if they have any qualms about this happening.

They can come for Barty. Or they can try. Because, Barty thinks, he is prepared and they won’t know what hit them.

[wo1fst4r]

Barty and Regulus are walking down the hallways, Barty going on and on about how much he hated Gryffindor. “They're all a bunch of losers,” he scoffed. “Probably the only good thing about that house is their parties (as rumor has it), honestly.” He continued grumbling about how much he couldn't stand the Gryffindor troublemakers, specifically Regulus' brother’s group of friends.

As they passed the Hogwarts grounds, Barty's eyes locked onto James Potter and his Quidditch teammates, gathered at the center of the grounds, still in their robes and holding their brooms, likely discussing some strategy.

James, usually the playful one, looked uncharacteristically serious and very passionate as he spoke, and Barty couldn't help but comment, “Look, it’s James Potter and his filthy teammates. I don’t get him. He's pureblood, but still hangs around Mudbloods. Just like your—“

Barty trailed off, catching Regulus' gaze. He realized the words were hanging unspoken, so he dropped it. Regulus had been unusually quiet, staring at James. He snapped out of it, realizing he hadn’t said anything for a while. “No—you’re right. Annoying Gryffindors,” he muttered, before adding, “And James Potter... he's so...” He trailed off again, still fixated on him.

He watched James, whose intensity from earlier had faded. Regulus noticed that James is now laughing with his teammates, likely done with their strategy meeting. His teammates were clearly comfortable and at ease with him, nudging him in that comfortable, almost intimate way. It made Regulus' stomach churn, a combination of annoyance and... something else—but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from James. He saw that the playful grin he usually wore had returned. When James stopped laughing, the grin stayed, and he stared at one of his teammates, who is saying something.

Regulus couldn’t help but think that if that grin and stare were ever directed at him, he might as well just sink into the ground. The intensity of it was unmistakable—like all of James’ attention was focused solely on the person talking, as if nothing else in the world mattered. Sexy, he thought. That look is bloody sexy.

Regulus snapped back to reality when Barty nudged him. He realized he’d stopped walking and was still staring at the Gryffindors. “What were you saying? James Potter is so what?” Barty raised an eyebrow, waiting for Regulus' answer.

Regulus opened his mouth, but the only word that came to mind was sexy, and he quickly swallowed it down. He hesitated, unable to find another word. “Uhm...” he muttered, still caught in his thoughts.

Barty glanced over at James, who is again laughing with his teammates, before finishing the sentence for him. “Bothersome to look at.”

Regulus shut his eyes. He muttered in a barely audible voice, “Yeah, definitely an unpleasant view,” he muttered, his cheeks flushing red even as the words left his mouth. The weight of the lie sat heavy on him, but he couldn't take it back.

He pulled Barty along quickly, desperate to move on, not daring to look back at the Gryffindors. The last thing he wanted was for Barty to notice how distracted he’d become.

[midnightpink]

chew me up, but don’t spit me out

read it here on ao3

Regulus has it all figured out. He keeps men on a rotating roster so none can get too close, works nights as a dancer to make the most of his chronic insomnia, and pushes everything he doesn’t want to remember about the past ten years into the recesses of his mind. It’s easier to pretend none of it ever happened.

But when James Potter crashes into Regulus’ life with his fancy sports car, wealth beyond measure, and devil’s smile, it marks a switch in the natural order of things. James is a client; Regulus isn’t allowed to fall in love with him. Except James is the first man in a long time who can see past Regulus’ carefully constructed façade, and who could ever resist the temptation of being known?

Or, this is a story about identity, addiction, self-expression, and love in all of the varying shapes they can take.

by: damagecontrol

Words: 261,000, Chapters: 25/25, Language: English 

Series: Part 1 of chew me up 

Collections: Jegulus that i loved <3333, i will still read these when I’m old, fics that make me astral project, the cosmos

Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Regulus Black, James Potter, Barty Crouch Jr., Evan Rosier, Pandora Rosier, Lily Evans, Dorcas Meadowes, Marlene McKinnon, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, James Potter's Aston Martin, Minor Characters

Relationship: Regulus Black/James Potter, Regulus Black & Sirius Black

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Strippers & Strip Clubs, POV Regulus Black, Wealth, CEO James Potter, he is FILTHY rich, aka "the Rich Simp", stripper Regulus Black, Getting Together, Falling In Love, Explicit Sexual Content, Found Family, Angst, there's a heavy dose of Black brothers angst in this one, Happy Ending, Smoking, Alcohol, Drug Use, Drug Addiction, Latino James Potter, James' thighs were made to be ridden, Past Regulus Black/Barty Crouch Jr./Evan Rosier, Minor Regulus Black/Male Character(s), Daddy Kink, Sugar daddy/baby dynamics, Dom/sub Undertones, off-screen discussions about safe words happen, Gender Identity, Genderfluid Regulus Black, Regulus uses he/him but prefers that others use they/them, there's a shift in later chapters to they/them in Regulus' narrative, emphasis on gender euphoria not dysphoria, James calls Regulus 'Princess', me and the limos are at it again, inappropriate use of champagne, James Potter has a stockings kink, Regulus Black has a tongue piercing, Regulus Black's Raging Praise Kink, Jegulus Vers/Switch Agenda, Jegulus, Background Relationships, Additional Warnings In Author's Note

[sommerregenjuniluft]

ok i'm back!! lune. lune oh my god your JP vision is everything to me, i can see him so clearly and i LOVE the fleamont/treasure/estate situation

i have additional questions: does he also have a fun name for the estate the way john b calls his house the chateau? who's who in the friend group bc me personally i can absolutely see sirius as jj and remus as pope and lily could be kinda like kiera (mainly in that like,, fiery and independent vibe she has) and i feel like for peter you'd have to kinda play around with some characters but i can totally see them as the pogues.....

and then regulus as sarah.... yeah..... please elaborate on the fucked up mentor/mentee relationship with riddle also please and thank you

miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiilllllllllllllllll<3333 that makes me so happy to hear T^T

hhmmmm i havent thought about it, maybe we can come up with something! i love having little easter eggs that relate to something in canon. idk if hogwarts would be too on the nose HAHSAHA but i mean. it is an old, big house that kinda looks like a castle...... sjfds idk i'd love to brainstorm with u. and yes mil you read my mind. that's what i thought too regarding the friendship roles/gang composition. though i think it's fun to mix the backgrounds/family situations/relations to the treasure around a bit. i'd want lily to be the book smart one, the one with the scholarship opportunity and also i think i'd want her to be the one related to denmark tanny (or whatever the name will be in the au). but i want her to have had the kook year that kiara had, lily alone in the nest of the snakes. and possible give her something close to jj's family situation. or like, an apathetic parent perhaps. remus can have the poor but loving family that pope has, with lyall and hope<3 i dunno what else he has going on besides that for now, possible something disability wise? terminal illness.....the gears r turning. sirius is a mix and match again. in this au both sirius and regulus are orphans, lets say their parents died when they were pretty small, then it was their grandparents and at last alphard but it didnt take long then for regulus to get swooped up by tom (i'll get to that in a minute.) so sirius is living with alphard and he kind of has the relationship with him that kie has with her parents, sorta abusing his position in a relatively wealthy home and using up all of his resources for his family, his friends (here his inner jj swings with as well, he's so boundlessly loyal). now coming to reg. riddle is a big shot kook obviously, filthy rich but from rags to riches type beat like ward. and his thing is that every like 5 to 10 years he adopts kids and like sponsors them sort of? like a sick twisted version of carlyall from twilight. i'd imagine maybe he started out with an ophaned niece and nephew or maybe or distant cousins and then just. kept going because he craved the company and liked playing the role. sometimes it's more but mostly he adopts two at a time, a boy and a girl. cue, barty and regulus as rafe and sarah versions. now what i'm about to say next is a bit fucked up so feel free to dip jdhgks. when they're 14/15 barty and and reg have this weird little pseudo incest thing going on where they're dating sort of. or not directly in a romantic and sexual sense but it's wildly different from regular platonic and familial. and it's all a bit bananas since they have the same father figure yknow. so they live with riddle, they have dorms at his estate. but evan is also sort of in the picture. (kind of filling the spot where the topper character leaves a whole). and evan is,, idk probably in love with both of them. which is, again, twisted and weird and bananas. since theyre. adoptive siblings on paper. skjgjsd anywho! i'm still not sure what to do about wheaze and rose. i considered bellatrix and delphini (that affair child bella had with tom) but i could never make her barty's adoptive mom. she'd just encourage his psycho ass and then the plot would crumble in over my head. at this point i also wanna take whoever is reading this by the cheeks, look u deep in the eyes and remind you of the little rafe x kie (bartylily) crumbs we'd get when exploring the s3 plotline :3 oh! oh!! also dorcas as cleo. hot sexy badass, french/jamaican accent having goddess of a young women that lily pathetically immediately falls for. it's just a big ol' OH moment where lily is like. yo i'm into girls?!?!!!!! i've pondered for a long minute what to do with the pope x kie romance plotline and i think i'd wanna make it a mutual comphet thing. remus is pissed at sirius for rejecting him after they have an almost kiss after dancing around each other for so long and then lily is there so he takes the out.

((lmao tumblr told me i need a paragraph here, i really been yapping too much already))

and sirius can't say shit because he's the one that bailed on remus, so remus lets him suffer (and also punishes himself for advancing on him in the first place). and for lily it's just that it takes her a minute to understand that the reason she can't choose between her boys is not that she's an indecisive slut but that she really does love her boys all the same amount, just not in a romantic way. cue dorcas strutting in with her knife wielding skill and her criminally sexy little belly button piercing and her braids and. yeah,,,,.

i'm also thinking latino james possibly, lily being mixed ghanaian (1) (2) (3), cambodian black siblings, and remus can be the token causasian lmao. barty as well and evan will always be some kind of blasian to me.

okay before i come to an end i wanna talk about trans fem reg for a second though. i've been browsing the net and reading about mtf transitioning a bit to portay regulus accurately and give a good enough representation. in my mind regulus, in this au, noticed that she's different pretty early on. and what with having sirius and it being a very modern, 21 century au, her transition began rather early. medically it's typically recommended to start with testo-blockers around 15 and added estrogen at 16. and that's exactly what regulus does. like always, when taking hormones there's gonna be some side effects, unfortunately. thrombosis risk increases, your libido decreases and you're probably gonna be tired and exhausted a lot and also more emotional and sensitive, have a shorter fuse. regulus does a lot of biking and swimming in her free time against the thrombosis, preferably in their long pool at the riddle estate but when she's feeling good enough about her body she does like to take out the boat with barty and evan and beat them in a swimming race. she's nap queen, she's sleeping everywhere, all the time and when her and james start getting together he calls her sleepyhead all the time and in the most affectionate tone and it sorta just keeps being the main pet name he has for her. also the low libido/possible body dismorphia go very hand in hand with the sarah arc where she's unsure about having sex for the first time. all in all regulus is pretty snappy and thin skinned, emotinal. but it makes her passionate and compassionate especially, which james loves and adores. all of it. yknow how in s2 sarah and john b stay at that hotel and jb steals the phone. i want james to overhear a pair of older-ish women complain about menopause and their pills and then break into their room when they're away for dinner and steal regulus some estrogen pills. it's probably not the right dosage and reg can't take them but!!!!!!!!!!!! it's the thought that counts and to regulus that counts A LOT.

[hirukochan]

WIP snippet

I've been a busy bee, working on my Voldemort/OC fic 🥳 and I am so so excited to share it. I think I'll start posting around February, I'll be sure to make a post here though!

Aaaaanyway I thought I'd share another snippet just for funsies (and to stop myself from posting it too soon 😬)

Barty comes from a neglectful house, the bright Ravenclaw who aspired to more, so much more than the Ministry job, his father was pushing him into, could ever offer him. Voldemort offered him more, and like so many before, Barty put all his hopes and dreams to Voldemort’s feet, soaking up the shreds of affections he was starved of as a child and found offered freely by Voldemort. Eventually he too learnt to live just to receive more of it.

Voldemort inclines his head, watching the man kneeling to his feet. His new body feels strange or perhaps it is the sensation of being back in a body that has him feeling odd. He keeps drawing circles on the velvet fabric of the armchair he summoned, feeling the fabric beneath his finger…

The years have not been kind to Barty. He and the Lestranges searched for him, choosing Azkaban over betraying him. They were of little use there but it holds meaning nonetheless. Their devotion. He has always been curious to see how far they would truly go and even after Azkaban, after his father freed him on his mother’s dying wish and kept him prisoner of his Imperius - Barty kneels to his feet, his dark eyes practically overflowing with joy at seeing him returned.

Voldemort’s hand slips off the armrest, gently cups the man’s emaciated face. Barty’s eyelids flutter shut and tension leaves his body. It’s pathetic. It’s beauty. It’s the devotion only Voldemort can invoke in people and it’s devotion to him that makes some mildly useful and separates them from the vermin. He is very liberal with his affections in the beginning, gets them addicted to the feeling and then removes it, makes them desperate to do whatever it takes to get it back and punishes them mercilessly when they fail him - it’s so easy to train humans.

Voldemort pulls his hand back. A shiver goes through Barty and he leans forward to not lose the feeling of his touch before gathering his composure again.

“Tell me about the girl again.”

Voldemort tips his head back, letting it fall onto the backrest and closes his eyes, listening to Barty’s words. He pulls the image he stole from Barty’s mind in a second of weakness out of the depths of his mind. An intriguing little thing…but the delicate ones always break before he truly could have his fun with them. It’s been a very long time since he played…but no. This time, this time is too crucial. He doesn’t need distraction…on the other hand…

She haunts him. A nasty parasite trying to force him to his knees, to worm herself into his mind and gain some sort of power over him. Nobody holds power over Lord Voldemort!

He has to wait. He has to be patient. Voldemort is not patient. The Muggles Barty catches at the edge of the village, spreading over the land below his father’s estate, sate his perpetual need for entertainment only insufficiently. Unsatisfyingly. Voldemort has never much liked that part about himself. Boredom is his worst enemy. He can stew in it for a while, tolerate the claws it throws into him and tears away at his mind. He can occlude, he can distract himself, relive memories that once brought him great satisfaction but repeating them too often has left them with a bitter taste. One would think he’d be better at waiting after spending so many years in the abyss, clinging on to life, clawing his way back into the world that attempted to kick him over the edge but returning to life has filled him with ecstatic spiritedness that does not like being confined to the decaying manor of his filthy, unworthy forefathers whose name he is cursed to carry with him wherever he goes.

It’s pathetic.

It’s so Muggle.

Ordinary.

It is irksome and pesky and a constant, cursed reminder of the inadequacy of his own impure blood he has fought so hard to escape and throughout it all she is there. Blonde hair, a blood-speckled white nightgown, bare feet against the forest floor…

A single image. A haunting, horrid beauty.

The impertinence to torment him-

One, his brush with death has left him too weakened to fight.

And so he finds himself turning to Barty, his last remaining loyalist. “Tell me about the girl.”

Perhaps he is unveiling a weakness, perhaps Barty is too caught between fear and veneration to even think him capable of having a weakness. Perhaps it doesn’t matter what he thinks at all. Barty has proven he can be trusted. He has remained loyal through it all. Through his fall, Azkaban, his father’s cruelty. Voldemort has always tended to trust those who shared his own history more candidly than any Pure-blood from a coddled upbringing - another weakness of the dirty Muggle blood his father has cursed him with but there is also a unique strength in overcoming a cruel parent.

The Weeping of the Songbird on Ao3

[charmstwit]

Is it still weekend? Can you give us some Regulus getting annoyed with Pandora not being impressed with him being Lord Black and the respect that should demand. I love Pandora ❤️

Well... no. Not exactly. That would be terribly out of character for him. How about this instead?

~~~

On the day that Regulus Black graduates Hogwarts, half the wix world arrives to kiss his ass and suck his dick.

The gifts and well wishes have been coming all week, bottles of wine and offers for surrogacy and more magical artifacts than he can ever hope to process. Kingsley has spent the week inspecting the gifts for boobytraps, and even the generous limits of his patience are stretched. But things only ramp up as graduation draws nearer. It seems the wix world is beside itself at the thought of Regulus leaving Hogwarts and officially taking his seat as the Patriarch of the House of Black.

Regulus has a headache about the whole thing. 

At first it was almost fun, but as graduation nears and things reach a fever pitch, he can’t help but wish for it to be over. Kingsley and he are heading to Spain after graduation; Kingsley has promised to do some filthy things to him in one of the Shacklebolt ancestral homes, and Regulus couldn’t be more excited. Afterwards, they’ll settle in Kingsley’s flat for the summer, and Regulus will finally be able to schedule his own days instead of being harassed by teachers and classmates. It sounds magnificent.

If only he can get through graduation.

He doesn’t mind the ceremonies so much, the robes or even the ridiculous cap he has to wear. But he does very much mind his classmates bowing and bobbing as he walks by, plying him for favors, in some instances even kneeling at his feet–Barty Crouch, as if that will earn his forgiveness for being so closely aligned with Evan. A few of the lesser families sent first years to school this year, and Regulus has had a hell of a time refusing their commands without crushing eleven-year-olds who are just doing as they’re told. 

By the time the afternoon is wearing on, and they’re finally to begin the graduation ceremony instead of the half-million pre-ceremonies beforehand, Regulus is tired. He has a migraine. His extended family is here on the school grounds. His brother, too, which is a much happier thought but Regulus feels a bit sick at the thought of them mixing, although he’s expressly forbade the worst members of the Family from speaking to Sirius. Remus has promised to alpha voice them straight to Hogsmeade if they tries anything. Still. Still. 

Regulus finds himself tucked into an alcove near the Great Hall, trying to take a moment alone. When he returns to the din of the ceremony, he will need to be the Patriarch, but for just a few minutes, he wants to be Regulus, who doesn’t love crowds and feels tired around too much noise.

“Lord Black!” An eager voice calls, and Regulus schools his face neutral. He steps out of the alcove and spots Ursula Selwyn beaming at him. She’s his mother’s age; her youngest just started at Hogwarts this year, and has gifted Regulus so many sugar quills it’s ridiculous. Regulus hasn’t even bothered to explain that it’s Sirius who likes sugar quills, because it’s easier than sorting out what the Selwyns want from him. “Lord Black, I must congratulate you. It has been some years since a Patriarch of the House of Black graduated Hogwarts. Of course, no one is surprised that you managed to lead the House and attend to your schooling at the same time. Intelligence is a notable gift of the Blacks. Your father, Orion, has long been a smart man, which is why the House of Selwyn enjoyed working with him so much.”

How many words do you need to use? Regulus wonders to himself. He should create a spell to count the words people use, on average, when they ask him for a favor. Once he does, maybe he can spread word that the House of Black values brevity, and cut the word average down.

“...and of course that’s not counting your grandfather, and the wonderful work he did. Now, I must say that the House of Selwyn was so pleased with the choice of mate for you, and your… unconventional choice for your brother,” Ursula continues. “It makes one wonder about your cousin, Narcissa, and if she will be marrying again or–”

Regulus shakes his head once. “I do not wish to discuss the romantic life of my cousins. If you’ll excuse me, Lady Selwyn.”

“Oh, but isn’t it lonely for an omega?” Ursula says quickly. “And of course the House of Black will wish for heirs, and–”

A siren noise suddenly splits the air. Regulus recognizes it as the fire detection charm. Ursula must too, because her eyes widen in terror. “Excuse me,” she gasps before all but sprinting towards the entrance hall. 

Regulus watches her go, grateful for the interruption. He’d rather burn to death that hear Ursula Selwyn pontificate on exactly who Narcissa should be fucking. 

“Don’t worry, it’s fake,” a familiar voice says, and Regulus turns his head to see Pandora leaning against the wall, her wand in her hand. “The Selwyn estate burned down last winter. Thought it might get her to move on.”

“Thank you, Pandora,” Regulus says with a sigh. 

“People really have a lot of opinions on who your family members should be shagging, don’t they? That’s the third proposal I’ve heard this month,” Pandora says.

“Unfortunately,” Regulus says, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Worse for the omegas, but you should’ve been in the girls dormitory when your bonding became public news. Half our year was in a sulk,” Pandora laughs. “Though I don’t know if they were hoping for you or for Kingsley.”

This is dangerous ground. With anyone else, this kind of familiarity would be a trap. And anyways, Regulus shouldn’t allow anyone to speak this way of the House of Black. It’s beneath them. But it’s been over a year since his investiture, and Pandora has yet to ask him for a single favor. She might be alone in their year in that regard. 

She must see the worry on his face, because she rolls her eyes. “Calm down, Regulus. I don’t want to marry you, or your cousin. And I don’t need the House of Black’s money.”

“What do you need?” Regulus asks.

Pandora shrugs. “A reason to get out of the Great Hall for a while. It’s loud in there.”

“It is,” Regulus agrees tentatively. “I… prefer quieter spaces, myself.”

Pandora nods. “Me too. My head feels too full with all those voices. Sensory overload.”

Regulus lets out a breath. “Indeed. It makes one feel quite sick.”

Pandora tilts her head to the side, a long cascade of blond hair spilling off her robes. “Are you autistic as well?”

Regulus shakes his head. “No. Are you?”

Pandora nods. “Yeah. Part of why the noises are so overwhelming.”

“Oh,” Regulus says. He isn’t quite sure what that means, but he has a sense that Pandora has shared something important with him. “Thank you for telling me.”

Pandora’s mouth quirks up in a smile. “You’re welcome. If you want, I can show you this spell I created. It turns the volume down on things. You’ll still hear what people say, it’s just not so overwhelming.”

Regulus hesitates again. He knows if he says yes, Pandora may ask him for a favor. But it would be helpful, nevertheless. “What can I do for you in exchange?” he asks.

“That must be a tiring way to live,” Pandora says. “I’ll give it for free if you stop assuming I always have a secret motive for talking to you.”

“Do you not have an ulterior motive?” Regulus asks.

“Not really. Besides, if I wanted something from you, I’d just ask you to your face. I wouldn’t bribe you with a spell first. Now do you want to hear it?”

Regulus nods. Pandora pulls her wand and swishes it lightly. “Garritus minimus,” she says, and even from here, Regulus can hear the din of the Great Hall lessen. His shoulders ease down from his ears. 

“Thank you,” Regulus says.

“You’re welcome,” Pandora says. “Shall we get back to the ceremony?”

Regulus nods, and they walk towards the Great Hall together. Just before they reach the doors, Regulus clears his throat. “I’m going to Spain after graduation.”

“That sounds lovely! I’ve been to Madrid twice, but I’d like to go again,” Pandora says. “The Prado National Museum is glorious. Much better than the British Museum, if you ask me. The layout is better, and the food is much better, and it’s not just stolen exhibits from other countries, and–”

“When I get back, would you like to meet my partner and I for dinner sometime?” Regulus asks.

Pandora tilts her head again. “Could I bring Xenophilius?”

“Of course,” Regulus says.

“Sounds like a plan,” Pandora says cheerily. “We love double dates. And board games. Have you ever played Dungeons and Dragons?”

“What?” Regulus blinks quickly. “You have a dragon?”

Pandora laughs. “Not quite. You’ll see. But first you have to go wow everybody by graduating like the rest of us.” 

“Right,” Regulus says. “Right. Let’s do that first.” 

[dollwritesarchive]

Ohhh could you write something where she overhears/eavesdrops on barty and his friends talking about their opinions on muggle borns and barty says some mean stuff and that if it were up to him there wouldn't be any allowed in hogwarts and maybe sirius or regulus is trying to talk him round and tells him that his girlfriend is a muggle born she just uses her step dad's pureblood surname and barty puts on a calm demeanour to question reader and when she tells him the truth he has to try very hard not to lose his shit cuz he still loves her but now he doesn't want to and hes annoyed that she lied about her family, just like an angsty barty fic where he's conflicted on what he wants and is quite a bit of an asshole, no sexual content please, if you don't wanna write this that's obviously totally fine but I just had to ask cuz I'm dying in my barty obsession here ♡☆

i’m not the best with angst but this sounded fun! there’s lots of m*dblood, h*lfbreed, and other slurs for muggleborns that pure bloods seem to looove to use so keep that in mind when proceeding.

you were staring at the floor, so hard that you might carve the floor with the intensity of your gaze alone, and he was unable to sit still. he tried, you could tell he was trying, but his knee jumped to what you assumed to be the rapid thumping of his heart, and his eyes dart around the room, looking for anything except you to focus on. was he truly so angry that he couldn’t even look at you?

the astronomy tower was no doubt the worst possible place to follow him up to alone and past curfew for this conversation. you’d expected rage. for Barty to scream in your face about what a filthy, despicable and treacherous mudblood you were for lying to him. maybe he’d even send you soaring over the edge of the balcony to your death. would you be just another dead halfbreed to him?

after you’d stumbled up on him and his fellow Slytherins making fun of a dead muggle born third year, you weren’t sure why you’d fallen in love with him in the first place, but you had. and you had lied to him to protect that love. and now he knew that.

“Does everyone know?” he asks after a moment of tense silence. “What you are?”

what you are. like you weren’t even a person to him anymore. it felt like a knife to the gut. you open your mouth to answer, but no sound comes out so you close it again.

“Am i the last to know?” it’s a desperate plea, not what you’d expected, but you can hear a bubbling anger just behind a poorly held facade. “Does everyone know?!” this time, it’s a bark. his fist comes down hard on its side between the two of you and smacks against the stone floor. it had to have hurt, because he winced when it happened, and you flinched, and scooted back, putting a few inches of distance between the two of you.

“No,” you answer, finally, in a meek voice, looking away from him. “Just Regulus.” it had been an unfortunate accident that he found out, and as much as you begged him not to tell, he had done it anyways. you remember grabbing his forearm, tears in your eyes. please. please, don’t tell Barty. I’ll do anything. but Regulus had taken one look at your sniffling countenance and ripped his arm free with a disappointed scoff. “I’m sorry.” you offer, but it’s faint. what were you sorry for? existing? being born in the wrong family? your dirty blood line?

Barty stares at you, eyes big and… contradictory. there’s that same softness there, a glint of it against the hazel, but there’s something else, too. disgust? “You knew,” he said, after a moment, “and that’s why you lied.” yes. you knew. you knew that if he had known from the start that you weren’t pure blood, he would’ve pushed you away. you nod, shamefully, and he expels an exasperated sound, pushing on to his feet and pacing through the room with frustrated stomps. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe I fell for it!”

you jump to your own feet, frowning. “I hated lying to you,” you argued, but recoil when he stops, dead in the center of the room and faces you. challenges you to continue. “I did. But I hated the idea of what you would do if you knew more than that.”

“Oh yeah? What would I do?”

“Pretend you didn’t love me.” you take an experimental step closer, your breath caught in your throat.

“Don’t do this.” he warns, but you had already taken another step, and then another, and he took a step back, but both of his hands grip the railings behind him. “You don’t want to do this.”

“Barty, look at me.” he shakes his head, grinding his teeth as he looks away. “Please. I’m still me.”

“I don’t know who that is, apparently.” he replies, bitter, but his voice is trembling.

that metaphorical knife in your gut twists back and forth with each syllable. “You don’t have to hate yourself for loving me—“

you reach out for him, but his hand shoots out and clasps around your wrist, squeezing tight. with a whirl, he’s spun you around, pressing your back to the bannister, pushing your torso partially over the side. a gasp leaves your lips in the form of his name, coupled with a “Please.” he was gripping your wrist so tightly, it was going to go numb. and his eyes were on fire, pouring wrath into yours. a look you’d never seen. a look that scared you.

maybe he really would throw you over the side.

“I don’t hate myself.” he hisses, even if it was a blatant lie. and then, his eyes dart up and down your frame. “Who could ever love you, anyways? Rotten mudblood, and a liar, too.” another lie that you could see right through. if he truly felt that way, why were there tears in his ducts that he was fighting to keep from falling? why did his voice tremble when he watched his words break your heart? you knew he was lying to himself as much as to you, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less. with that, he threw your hand and steps back, and you stumble forward, grabbing on to the bannister with both hands, unable to catch your breath.

[regulusarcturusblvck]

Chapter One

REGULUS’ POV

Another argument between James Potter and Severus Snape, of course, led us all to the bathroom. I'd only followed to monitor my brother, Sirius, who now stands in the middle of all of us. I stay on the sidelines. Barty Crouch Jr blocks the door, but he doesn't do a good job. Unfortunately, none of us realized how terrible of a job he was doing until a girl catches our attention, barging her way into our affairs.

"Where is he?!" We hear the girl yell, causing Barty to spin around.

"Never you mind-" Barty tries, but fails.

She shoves her way past him and marches in, I normally wouldn't think twice, except that she's now in the boys room. I know exactly who she is, Nyx Crowley, the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. She's the princess of Slytherin, and cunning enough to destroy the entire world. Ive heard horrid stories of her family, and all rumors lead to a dreadful accusation that she may be more vile than the dark lord himself. A monster, the public calls her, along with every other Crowley. Her elder brother attended Hogwarts, but he never graduated, joining the dark arts instead...just like their father. I would ask her personally, but I've never spoke to her, though we've both been in House Slytherin since first year, ironically we arrived the same year. She keeps an odd assortment of friends, refusing to be linked to too many purebloods, I assume to rebel against her own bloodline. She is however known to mock anyone that isn't a pureblood, contradicting herself. She usually remains quiet and reserved, though now is a different story.

"Hey, you can't be in here" Barty argues with her.

"Shut up!" She spits, marching her way to us. She shoves James backwards and pushes Severus behind her, staring up at James. "Are you all right, Severus?" She questions, not being bothered to look at him.

"Listen here, little girl-" James began.

"No you listen, Pottah!" She spits, emphasizing the P. "The best thing you can do is grab your books and return to class"

"You really need a little girl defending you?" He smirks at Severus.

"Don't speak to him" she demands, earning James's attention. "This is now between you and me. Severus, go to class"

"I can't just leave you in here alone with them" he worries. "You're outnumbered"

"Oh, it's them you should worry about. Go on"

"My wand, he has my wand"

"I'll retrieve that"

"As you wish" he sighs, reluctantly leaving. He gave Sirius a look, and Sirius gave him a subtle nod, I assume to let him know she'll be all right. The moment he left, she swings at James, but Barty grips her arms and holds her back. I feel my body tense in concern for her.

"Listen to me-" James begins.

"Did I say you could speak?" She scoffs at him, tugging at her arms. "Now I understand it's hard for you to see someone actually capable of using talent for achieving all that was handed to you, and you're scared because he's better than you, but how dare you stoop so low as to pick on someone"

"Me stoop low? That's rich, coming from a Crowley. Did you think we'd forget what your traitor brother did?"

"He's still better than you"

"He burned half this school"

"At least he didn't torture innocent students daily"

"Stop meddling in our business"

"The next time you go after him, I'll bloody your nose. Understand?"

"Why don't you do it now then? Unless your scared"

"A Crowley scared of some filthy little Potter?! Don't be so stupid"

"You can't fight a girl" Sirius says. "Leave it be"

"No, she's so brave, let her do something"

"You don't want me to do something" she stares at him.

"Let her go, let's all move on before something happens that we can't repair" Sirius tries. Barty agrees, letting go of her arms.

"Wait until Lily hears about this" she spits.

She starts to walk away when James grips her wrist, jerking her back to him. I step closer, refusing to let him fight her. She shoves him back, but he grips her collar and pulls her closer. I grip his wrist, placing a hand on her back in case he shoves her.

"Let her go" I stare.

"Regulus-" he began.

"I said to remove your hand from her" I demand.

He stares at me for a moment before letting her go. I let go of him and wrap my arm around her to walk her out. The moment we reached the corridor, she rips herself from my touch.

"The next time your hands find their way to me, will be the very last time that you have hands. Is that clear?" She snarls at me.

"Very" I sigh, clearly she isn't one for contact.

"Good" she nods.

"I'm Reg-"

"Regulus Black, we all know all about you and your filthy family history. I'd delve into the insults I could spew solely off your family legacy, but it's too much for me to tell in a single day"

"And you are Nyx Crowley. Your beautiful family history of thievery, sly tricks and dark magic is far worse than the tales of my house"

"Messe" she nods.

"So, James can't bully people but you can?"

"You're whole little crew deserves it. Severus doesn't...well, at least not from him"

"How is that fair?"

"Because at least I mock them for being mudbloods, not because of some little crush. It's pathetic and a total embarrassment"

"Do you know the entire story?"

"I'm walking away now"

"I take that as a no?"

"Do you know the entire story, Black? I didn't think so"

"Well it's been lovely" I sighed sarcastically.

"Don't lie to me" she teases, walking away from me.

"There you are" Sirius says, walking out and placing a hand on my shoulder. "You okay?"

"Grand" I nod, looking at him.

"Did she say something to you?"

"Nothing bad"

"Watch her, you remember what her brother did"

"Doesn't mean she will"

"Don't defend her, you don't know her"

"Don't judge her, you don't know her"

"Regulus-"

"I've got to get to potions class, I'll see you later" I say, walking away.

I'm extremely late for class, and I can only pray it would be an easy class today.

Only potions class wouldn't be any easier than dealing with that whole fiasco.

[twinkleallnight]

REBEL

(New series)

Book: The Royal Romance Reverse AU

Pretext: What if they were the rebels.

Word count: 1223

Disclaimer: All characters belong to pixelberry.

Rating: Mature

Warning: Mention of death, violence, weapons.

Prompts: 1) Features @wackydrabbles prompt 134 in bold. 2) @flashfictionfridayofficial "it doesn't hurt"

Song inspiration: Kabhi lage ki ye saara sach hai

The walls of the dingy cave were sticky wet. The air smelled awful. But it was the only hideout the boys could find tonight. In the chilling silence of the night, all they could hear was their  breathing, that was heavy after being on the run from past few hours.

Drake preferred to wrap his arms around the cold metal of his weapon than the eerie rocks behind his back. He was sitting in an awkward hunched position to avoid touching anything. Liam had crouched himself next to Drake in similar position.

In contrast, Leo had sprawled his limbs across the stinking moss spread on the floor of the cave. He was least bothered about the dirty surroundings. All he wanted was some time of peaceful sleep.

Max kept fidgeting with his gun, restlessly. He could not sit, stand or sleep. His mind was running through the events back and forth. When he couldn’t contain it, he broke the silence, “We were not prepared yet. This was not how it was supposed to be. How could I miss it?” He continued blabbering. “We should have planned it better.  What if they catch us? I don’t want to be the one in their filthy hands.”

“No one is getting caught. At least not tonight.” Liam spoke in his calm tone.

“Even if we get caught, you will be the only privileged one.” Drake smirked.

“What do you mean?” Max snarled as he tried to get hold of Drake’s collar. “It’s what I have always wanted.”

 “That can’t be right!” Drake snickered, pinning him against the wet wall, “Daddy Barty will be right there to rescue his sissy baby, won’t he? I doubt if our plan didn’t work out cause of an insider.”

Max butt headed Drake and pushed him with all his might, throwing Drake away. “Dare you question my loyalties ever. You will never understand what it takes to rebel against your own family, in your own house.” Max  brushed away his shirt and gave out scornful laugh. “How will you know anything about a home! You never had one to call yours, did you?”

Drake pounced on him again and both wrangled till they were shocked by a tiny rocks that hit them.  They looked in the direction from where it came.

Leo’s blue eyes glared at them in the darkness. “Cut the shit out, you two.” He was still in the same place, relaxed on the ground, just sitting upright now. “This is the last warning for both of you. I will shoot you and throw your bodies in the river, if I see you both fighting again.” He growled. “We have enough to handle already. We can’t keep wasting time fighting within.”

“What is your next plan of action?” Liam asked Leo.

“We will spend the night here. At dawn we will search the neighbourhood and find a new shelter till we are able to meet the next target.”

“Do you think Godfrey will send his men to hunt us down?” Max asked worriedly.

“Godfrey has his focus on getting his daughter engaged to a suitable match. He won’t send anyone after us, but Barthelemy may. He would try to impress Godfrey and win a chance for Bertrand to gain Madeleine’s attention.”

Liam stepped closer to Leo and patted his back in support, at the mention of Madeleine. He knew how much his elder brother loved her, and how circumstances had made them fall apart. Life had been a rollercoaster ride, since their father revolted against the ruling Amaranths.  

“Its okay Li. I am fine. It doesn’t hurt.” Leo gathered his belongings and got up.

Liam looked at Max, who winced at the mention of his father and brother in relation to Madeleine. He threw his hands up saying,  “How long do I have to keep seeing the consequences of misdeeds of my family!”

“You don’t need to blame yourself Max.” Leo said settling himself at the deepest corners of the cave.

“Thank you for your kind words Leo. But I can see how….” Drake cut him off mid sentence. His hand covered Max’s mouth muffling the words. He gestured at the entrance of the cave.

The boys jumped to an alert position, listening intently to the sounds coming from outside. There was crushing of dried leaves, a cracking of a twig and a thud. The noise indicated that it was only a single person out there.

Liam stepped forward signalling others to give him a cover. A shadow approached him but before they could know what was happening, Liam hammered the rear end of his gun on the intruder’s head. There was gabbled voice as they saw the body collapsing.

Liam caught hold of the falling figure and dragged her in. The boys came closer to have a look.

“Who is she?” Max asked. Drake did a quick survey outside, before joining them. “What was she doing alone here, in this jungle, at this hour?” he pondered. “Does anyone know her?” Leo questioned. The boys shook their head except Liam.

When there was no response from him, Leo asked again, “Liam? Do you know her?”

Liam’s voice was a small whisper, “No….” as he kept looking at the details on that bright face, the chapped pink lips indicating that she had been without a drop of water since long. The green vein throbbing hard at the curved angle of her jaw showing that she was running from someone. The dark hair that were spread messily over his arms holding her. He was not sure if the colour of the hair was black, brown, auburn or red in the darkness of the night. But the thing that attracted him the most was, the thick eyelashes that covered those eyes. He wanted to peep through those windows desperately. He wanted to see what mystery they held under them.

He didn’t realise how long he held her in his arms, observing her keenly till she squirmed. Leo fastened his kerchief around her mouth and instructed his brother.

“Get into action Li. She is about to wake up. We cannot screw this.”

Drake aimed his rifle at her while Leo and Max scooped her out of Liam’s grasp and tied her to a corner stone.

As she woke up and realised her situation, she looked around in panic. Drake had targeted his gun against her temple. Leo stood in front of her. He spoke in a hushed yet firm tone, “I am going to give you only one chance. I will remove the gag and all I want is to know who you are. No. Extra. dialogues. Or my friend here will press the trigger and you will say no more. Ever.” He chewed on his last word sending a shiver down her spine.

Leo looked at Max, who came forward. He removed the piece of cloth around her mouth. She coughed and let out a breath. Drake nudged the muzzle of his gun on her head. “Speak up before I act.” He snapped.

Her eyes rose to view Drake, then Max, Leo and finally settled at Liam who stood at far end. In the dark of the night his blue eyes saw a streak of fear in her black eyes. Her gaze settled on him as she uttered, “I am Riley Brooks.”

*******************************************

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[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

Hey do you think Alistor got payed for the teaching Barty Jr did? How well do you think being a teacher pays? Why did Minerva ignore Ron's need for a new wand when he poor as shit but bought Harry a new broom? These questions plague me

I have no idea if Moody got paid the salary for the year he was supposed to spend in teaching. I've never thought about it before, but I like to assume that he did, because after the year he's had, he deserves some sort of compensation even if it was no one's fault. After all, had Crouch Junior never stumbled and exposed himself, Dumbledore was going to pay him the salary anyway, right? Assuming him to be Moody. So I'm sure Dumbledore didn't mind just giving him the money. In any case, I have no idea how much being a Professor pays, but I can't imagine it's especially high. Slughorn has a grumble or two under his breath about this, if memory serves. I mean, it makes sense. It's #TruthInTelevision, that teachers are underpaid. I suppose they do also get fed, and get a room, so those are some nice benefits...but still.

When it comes to Ron...oh my good friend, do not get me started. Because that's a very good point, on so many levels. How come Hogwarts, which is considered to be top tier magical education, has no spare wands that can go to students if something happens to theirs? Sure, they wouldn't work as well as a wand that chose the student, but it's better than nothing. Now, maybe the teachers consider this to be the student's responsibility, and figure that they can just write home to be sent a new one, and explain to their parents why they need one. But that could take a few days, assuming the student can even do this. Maybe they can't. I don't know how expensive wands are, relatively speaking. I think it's seven galleons, but how much is that? I'm a filthy American, so what would that be translated into dollars? Are the Weasleys really in such bad shape financially, that they can't afford a second wand for Ron? If so, why did they spend all of their lottery winnings on a trip to Egypt the very next year?

Then again...oh god, here I go, getting started. Ron has kind of always been given the short end of the stick, and this would just be another example of Harry being given special treatment, while Ron gets the opposite, from every adult on hand. Remember when the Horcrux called Ron the "least loved" by his mother? I'm not saying that Molly loved Ron any less, but it seems as though he felt like she did. The Dress Robes in GOF come to mind. You know what else does? The wand that Ron broke wasn't even his, it was Charlie's...Ron didn't get one because I guess they couldn't afford it...but hey, wasn't this the same year that Percy got an Owl for being made Prefect? Like, don't get me wrong, I love Percy. But are you freaking kidding me? An Owl is a luxury if you're a Hogwarts student, because they already have school owls. A wand is not a luxury, it is an essential. But Ron didn't even get his own until his third year, after having to spend a year without one. He is damn lucky that Dumbledore cancelled exams because otherwise, I don't think he would have passed. How could he?

[veritas-scribblings]

torn & funnel - @bartylusmicrofic - words: 825 [Mature: dark, some gore, some horror elements, some non-explicit sexual content]

He lives in darkness. In a world that smells like blood and dark magic. The floor is hard and cold and wet and sticky, and he struggles to remain in the one spot, slipping every time he moves. It is nightfall, he can tell, and the moon shines round and full, visible through the grating high up in the wall. It is the only illumination in the room, providing light dim enough for him to see a shape hanging some distance across from him. Come morning, the sun will shine through the grating and he will see it more clearly. Taunting him. A harbinger.

The body hangs, head down, attached to the roof by the huge hook speared through the soles of her feet. She is pale, having been drained of blood, by a jagged incision in her neck, torn up towards her jaw line. He can still hear her screaming echoing in his mind, in his nightmares, though she has been still for some time now. Feel the stickiness of her blood beneath the palms of his hands, drying in places on his skin. 

‘Are you awake, Old Man?’

They call him this: Old Man. Like it is his name. And maybe it is. He does not remember anymore. He’d lost his name some time ago when the one with the tattoos and the piercings had strung her up and sliced her with severing spells and burned her with fire and laughed at her screams. His wife, he remembers. This, he cannot forget.

And he’d watched. And he’d listened. For days he had watched and he’d listened, trapped by the chains and the bars on the cage, until he’d been reduced to screaming and begging. And pleading and crying. Until the dark-haired one—the pretty, dark-haired one with the pale skin and the silver-grey eyes—and knelt down and said to him, calmly, ‘don’t beg, it’s beneath you.’

‘Wake up, wake up, Old Man. Get up.’ 

He is called Barty, the one with the tattoos and the piercings. The Old Man hates him with a burning, searing, blazing passion. It is not for his wife, nor for the darkness of his world which smells like blood and dark magic. It is a hatred that is older, nurtured over time, because he had known. Oh, he had known. He’d seen this coming like a runaway train, and he is fool to been so arrogant as to not have stepped out of the way.

Barty dumps something through the bars of the Old Man’s cage. A sandwich, which falls apart the moment it is airborne and lands in the dirt and the blood and the shit and the piss that have spilled out of the bucket they’ve given him.

‘Eat,’ he instructs, ‘need to keep your energy up.’

The dark-haired one stands one the stairs that lead down to the Old Man’s dark, dark world. Where Barty is an open book of rage and hate and sinister mirth, the dark-haired one is entirely blank. Closed off. Unreadable. Except for that one time, after they’d strung up his wife, the expressions on the dark-haired one, the sounds he’d made that the Old Man wants to forget.

He watches, though he rarely gets involved. Acting instead as Barty’s manager. His supervisor. Instructing Barty on what to do. Barty listens, fulfils his wishes. And what the dark-haired one wishes is to keep the Old Man alive. ‘In limbo,’ the dark-haired one had said. ‘You belong to me now. You don’t get to die. You will not get that mercy.’

Barty crosses the small, dark world and crowds the dark-haired one up against the bannister of the staircase. He kisses him, filthy and crude. The Old Man casts his eyes away back down to the sandwich dumped at his feet that he will eat, he thinks, when he is desperate enough. When the hunger over-rides every other sensation in his body, including the present urge to gouge his own eyes out, to pierce his own ear drums.

Because the sounds they’re making are simply obscene and he can see in the periphery of his vision flashes of flesh. Hears Barty moaning, 'Oh, fuck, Reg, baby.'

This is worse. Worse than the hunger and the exhaustion. Than the nightmares that are plaguing his every waking and sleeping moments. Worse than what they’d done to his wife. Worse than anything else they might have planned for him. And the old man remembers the echoes of his wife’s screams; screams of pain, screams of horror, screams of disgust.

He remembers after his wife had been strung up, Barty pressing the dark-haired one up against the pillar that holds up his dark, dark world, and the depraved things that Barty had done to him just for the Old Man to see. He remembers the sound of the dark-haired one in the throes of pleasure. He remembers Barty making eye contact with him the whole time, the way Barty had enjoyed his suffering.

And, dear Salazar, he remembers.

He remembers his wife.

He remembers that the dark-haired one is his son.

[decennia]

yeah know tell me everything about klaus

ABOUT: ARCHELAUS KLAUS SALLOW

His full name is Archelaus, but only the Rosiers call him that. So, naturally, he loathes it.

It means: "the people's ruler" in Greek.

Only the A Team are allowed to call him Archie.

Otherwise, everyone just calls him Klaus.

He's a Ravenclaw.

He's the son of Socorro and Regulus, though for basically his entire life, he, and almost everyone else, believed he was Evan's child.

He was raised by not only Reginald and Mary Cattermole (who I headcanon as being Mary Macdonald), but Gaspard and Ekaterina Rosier (Evan's parents).

He seldom spent time with the Rosiers, but he hated every second when he did.

Because they were blood purists, their family tree was charmed to not include anything other than purebloods; so he and Socorro were left off of it. It seemed to glare at him mockingly, the blank space where his name should be.

He thinks of the Cattermoles as his real parents, though he knows he's adopted. Mary and Socorro were close. Although Klaus never knew his real mother, Mary made sure he would never have to wonder about her. She told him everything; the good, and the bad.

Gaspard was cruel, often looking down on Klaus with disgust. Ekaterina was a gentler presence, but every bit as cold when Gaspard was around. When his grandfather dies, Ekaterina softens considerably, but their relationship is still quite terse. Time spent together was done so in silence, and not the comfortable kind.

In spite of the distaste he has for his father's family, he still saw it as his duty to honour them. And this came to a head in his fourth year - the year when Alastor Moody came to Hogwarts.

While Mad-Eye was spectating the final task of the Triwizard Tournament, Klaus slipped into his office to lie in wait. To get vengeance for Evan.

Not because he cared about Evan, no. Every part of himself he hated came from what he believed Evan to be. He intended to kill Moody on principle, simply to honour the family name.

When Mad-Eye is revealed to be Barty Crouch Jnr. using Polyjuice, Klaus flies into a blind rage. Because now it was personal. Because now, he was faced with the man who had murdered his mother, who although he never knew her, he knew enough to know that everything he loved about himself came from her.

Dumbledore himself had to subdue him.

Nemesis Number One: Deimos Mulciber.

Because not only is Deimos the son of the Mulciber who attacked Mary, but because Klaus just doesn't like bullies.

Typically, Klaus minds his own business. He's just that type of person. He also likes to keep out of trouble where he can.

Hence why, when Deimos gloats about what his father did to filthy little Mudblood Mary, it takes everything in Klaus to not put him in the infirmary.

It's only when Deimos goes after Elspeth Meadowes that Klaus intervenes, saving her from a hex that was sure to land her in St. Mungo's for weeks.

Klaus initially had no friends; by choice.

He has friendships of convenience. He sees people as what they can do for him, rather than who they are, but his loneliness makes him incredibly prone to accidentally forging bonds with people.

He won't even realise he cares about someone until something threatens either their physical wellbeing or the friendship itself. The fear of losing that person tends to tip him off on just how much he cares.

It comes as quite a shock to him that he gives a shit about Elspeth and Enoch.

They are the ones to convince him to join Dumbledore's Army, but thinks it's absolute rubbish and refuses to participate.

There's a scene that originally came from a crossover brainstorm session with @luucypevensie's Cordelia, but I loved it so much it has definitely become canon:

Klaus knows that if a Death Eater is coming at you, they're not spouting Stupefy and Confundus. They're coming with Dark Magic, and they're coming to kill. They don't give a damn your age, if you stand against them, you're dead. There's no mercy. And Klaus, who studied Dark Magic, knows this. Knows that there's seldom a protective charm powerful enough. And he's watching as Harry is teaching everyone Protego and whatnot, and slowly getting more and more agitated, angry, because it's almost as if he's giving them false hope, giving them this idea that there's a way to safely make it out of a war that's sure to come. And one day, he snaps as Harry is demonstrating the shield with Elspeth, and just comes at one of them (Harry or Elspeth) with Dark Magic. Cord, who sees it coming, knocks the intended victim out of the way, and takes the curse on square in the chest.

In canon, Cord would likely be replaced by Enoch or Hermione.

For angst's sake.

Because have I mentioned that he's head over heels for Hermione Granger?

He really doesn't get along with Harry. His thought process is very much: this is it? This is the Chosen One? What a fucking joke.

He doesn't return to the meetings, which is all well and good, because no one wants him there anyways. Nobody told the professors what happened when they took Hermione to the infirmary, but he didn't know if it was for the integrity of the club or because they were scared of him.

Everyone kinda was after his violent display, but not Enoch: no, she decided to officially recruit him into her fool's errand of assassinating the Dark Lord.

He initially agrees for Mary.

After he finds out about Regulus, his motivations change.

How he finds out: the A Team and the Golden Trio cross paths at the Ministry during Deathly Hallows, and they disapparate together. They get separated at Grimmauld Place, where the A Team decide to stay and fight Yaxley to give the Golden Trio time to escape. Yaxley retreats, purely because he is outnumbered, and they seek shelter inside. There, Walburga's painting mistakes Klaus for Regulus. When he goes to Regulus' room, he finds an unopened letter from Socorro that explains everything.

Elspeth shows him the Black Tapestry. And although, where his name should be is nothing but the hideous scar of burn marks from where he was burned off, it was proof enough.

The relief he felt at not being a Rosier was chased away very quickly by the mourning of Regulus Black. For his father was still a Death Eater no matter who he was, and he was still dead.

But he vowed to finish what Regulus and Socorro started.

Klaus is physically incapable of producing a Patronus.

He snorts when he laughs.

He doesn't like Ron much - not because Ron and Hermione get together, but because Ron made out with his mother while under the guise of Polyjuice and that shit is weird.

Klaus' morality alignment is Neutral Evil, because although he does what he believes is right, it's objectively questionable. And he has no qualms using any means to achieve his goals, Dark Arts included.

Justin Finch-Fletchley, BROTP.

I know I'm forgetting a lot, but this is just off the top of my head, and it's getting too long already

I just really love my morally questionable baby boy

[multifandomfix]

Kinks (Harry Potter Preference)

Barty Crouch Jr: He really loves to mark you up to show the world you’re his. He'll leave hickeys and even bite marks sometimes. He loves to assert dominance over you, but also doesn’t mind when you take the dominant role from time to time.

Bellatrix LeStrange: Bellatrix would try nearly anything once. But, if you’re looking for something guaranteed to turn her on, it would be shibari bondage. She loves to have you tied up and waiting for her. She loves designing the patterns she’d tie you up in and telling you how great you'd look like that.

Minerva McGonagall: Minerva sometimes likes to spank you. She’s used to doling out punishments of sorts, and found that she has a fondness for it in private with you.

Molly Weasley: Food play would be Molly's thing. She loves to cook and bake, so why not take that and incorporate it into the bedroom? Chocolate sauce and whipped cream are particular favorites.

Narcissa Malfoy: Narcissa is into pet play. She likes to have you on all fours, depending on her for attention, rewards and punishment. She’ll put a collar and leash on you too so she can tug you closer to her.

Rita Skeeter: Rita is quite the dirty talker. She’s got a surprisingly extensive vocabulary at her disposal, and she can get as filthy as you like. After a few times, you pick up on some of the things she likes to say and hear, making it even hotter.

Severus Snape: At times Snape likes to get rough with you. You think it’s a way for him to work out all his pent up frustrations from teaching, so you can pretty much be sure that when he’s had a trying day, you'll be getting it a little rougher than usual.

Sybill Trelawney: Sybill has a praise kink. She didn’t really realize it until you’d slept together a couple of times, but she loves it when you call her beautiful or tell her how good she is.

For anon

[morsmordrehasbeensaved]

CONGRATULATIONS JOSIE, YOU HAVE BEEN ACCEPTED AS BARTEMIUS CROUCH JR. WITH THE FACECLAIM OF BILL SKARSGARD!

Josie, all of us admins here absolutely loved your application! In particular, we loved the detail put into his character traits, as well as your interpretation of his relationship with his mother. The headcanons were a nice touch as well! Barty freaks me out, but I mean that in the best way possible! I’m so excited to see Barty on the dash. Welcome to Morsmordre, Josie. We are so happy to have you!

Check out our acceptance checklist right here on what to do next!

♔ OUT OF CHARACTER INFO ♔ NAME/ALIAS:

Josie.

AGE:

23.

PREFERRED PRONOUNS:

She/Her.

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY:

EST – activity would be a 6 out of 10. I try my best to be online as often as I can, but I have a full-time job that takes a lot out of me as well.

TRIGGERS:

REMOVED.

ANYTHING ELSE:

REMOVED. Request approved.

♔ IN CHARACTER INFO ♔ FULL NAME:

Bartemius Crouch Jr. However, calling him Bartemius could land you on the wrong end of a hex. Only his father calls him Bartemius, you see. Barty is muchsafer.

BIRTHDAY AND AGE:

April 14, he is 16 years old.

PRONOUNS:

He/him.

SEXUALITY/ROMANTIC ORIENTATION:

Barty is asexual and biromantic. While he can handle physical affection, he much prefers a match of the minds and needs no physical contact to reassure him of his relationship with anyone.

EXTRACURRICULARS:

I love him in Knitting Club, though if possible could we add him to Chess Club? He enjoys showing off his intelligence and especially enjoys beating blood traitors and befriending possible allies.

PERSONALITY TRAITS:

POSITIVE (+): Intelligent, Perfectionist, Driven

Intelligent - Barty was placed in Ravenclaw for a reason and that was because the hat immediately saw the desperation for knowledge and thirst for learning as soon as it was placed upon his head. His mind moves at an incredibly fast pace, taking in situations and details and calculating the right actions in reply to this. He sees through facades and anything of the like with ease – and has long since put school work and the frivolities that come with it aside as irrelevant.

Perfectionist - Never a detail unseen, never a stone left unturned, Barty’s keen mind has never allowed for anything other than perfection. He works systematically, mentally categorizing new information for later use (his eidetic memory is a big help with this, too) – and makes sure there is never any flaw to be found in his works. Another positive aspect of this is that Barty can always sense whenever there is anything off when it comes to others, he picks up on lies and mistakes easily because he always remembers the little things.

Driven - There was a second of doubt from the Sorting Hat when it came between the choice of Ravenclaw and Slytherin. It could sense the ambition inside of him, the determination to become something even greater – in the end, his intelligence won out, but being placed in the house of Eagles did not quell this part of his personality. Barty enjoys improving himself, driving himself to become smarter, better and stronger. He was well aware his genius was above most of his peers from a young age on, but still, he pushes for more.

NEGATIVE (-): Obsessive-compulsive, Desperate, Manipulative

Obsessive-compulsive - The negative side to his perfectionism shows through in this side of his personality. He needs everything orderly, neatly sorted and coordinated the way he wants it to, or the chaos messes up his mind – it pushes him towards something that could almost be classified as madness. Barty absolutely cannot stand when things are unorganized, messy and chaotic, it makes him feel like he’s losing control – like he’s losing the grip on his sanity, and sometimes, that might actually be the truth.

Desperate - His father always seemed so disappointed in him, nothing Barty did was right, nothing Barty did was good. Compliments were rare in the Crouch household, but he craved them more than he did air. His mother, sweet as she was, tried whatever she could to satiate her son’s need for his father’s – his namesake’s – affection, but it did not work. Only last year did he find someone who’s praise was good enough to replace that of his fathers’, a man who branded him with a mark on his forearm and fed into his madness. He will do anything, anything at all, to please his Dark Lord.

Manipulative - Barty has always found it easy to toy with his peers. He could see through their petty little games and start one of his own, where he pulled the strings and have them dancing like puppets. While it is not something he occupies his days with, these manipulations are something he occasionally enjoys when he’s bored, running plays and watching the reactions they gave, things he could use in the future, the information he gathered. Ironically enough, something that has always been nothing but a game to him has quickly become one of the skills the Death Eaters find very promising in Barty.

BIOGRAPHY:

Bartemius – or Barty as he was affectionately known by his mother was born to a slightly dysfunctional family, of which became very apparent as he grew up. Whilst doted upon by his mother, and he to her his father was someone that had always been cold, distant – almost as if he had expected more of his son, and his only heir. Within this household, Barty came to be aware of the phrase that he as a child was to be seen but not heard. It was almost as if his father had been disappointed by the child he had, that he wasn’t good enough.

This affected him so much as a child that he strove to reach his father’s attention in any way possible. Encouraged by his mother, Barty began to work studiously in his work, reading any and all old textbooks that his father contained in his library so that he could become a son that his father was proud of, so that he would be acknowledged more than just Bartemius Crouch Junior; that he would be recognised by his father to be someone he was proud of. Unfortunately, this seemed to not be the case when he seemed to not reach his father’s attention even at the young age of five when he seemed to be displaying a natural talent for wandless magic.

His mother, on the other hand, showered him with praise. Whenever he picked up a new language, she let him babble on for days, listening intently to every word rolling off his tongue. Whenever he learned to play a new instrument, she clapped loudly, much to the annoyance of his music teacher. Whenever he showed a new piece of magic, she watched on with bright eyes, amazed by her son’s prodigy. Fiona Crouch absolutely adored her little Barty – and some part of her resented her husband for not doing the same, which was evident in the heaps and heaps of owl’s she sent him. Begging him to come to a recital, to read the recipe for a Potion he’d reinvented, anything at all. He never replied.

Fiona blames her husbands’ negligence for the attraction Barty quickly grew towards the Dark Arts. Even before Hogwarts, he had put aside normal spellwork and turned his eager eyes towards forbidden things; curses, hexes, and potions that harmed instead of helping. He’d whispered the word ‘Imperio’ at the neighbors’ boy when he was only ten, having him take the blame for a mess he’d caused. He’d screamed ‘Crucio’ at a rat, hiding in their cellar at home, his curiosity to see how the animal would react to pain like that too strong to overcome. There was only one Unforgivable he saved – one he refrained from casting until he could use it on the person who deserved it most. Despite the eagerness for his praise and love, the Dark Arts had unleashed in him the strong desire to kill his father.

There was not much mentionable for his first six years at Hogwarts. Barty was well above his peers when it came to his studies, he didn’t care much for social activities, and there was rarely anyone worth his time when it came to friendship. The only thing that pulled him through the bore that was school came with the approach of Lord Voldemort. A cousin from his mothers’ side had first come to Barty with a promise to be more, to stand above others and step on those of filthy blood. He’d never paid pureblood supremacy much mind before, but as soon as they started whispering in his ear, he quickly agreed with their views. In fact, it was one of the few things he felt strongly about since – though from the moment he met the Dark Lord, he knew that he would agree with anything that left this man’s mouth.

His mother had a faint expression of disappointment as soon as she realized what her son was getting himself into, especially with his fathers’ profession. It were mostly worries that crossed her mind, not wanting to see her precious Barty hurt. Fiona had learned to keep her lips sealed, however. She loved her son, and if this was the path that made him happy, that made him feel content in his life, she would not stand against it.

In Voldemort, Barty found more of a patriarchal figure than his own father had ever been to him. No one’s praise had ever been good enough to satiate his need before, but whenever this man told him ‘well done, Barty’ – he finally felt it. Satisfaction.

ADDITIONAL INFO:

Some more traits are:

Analytical (+), Cynical (-), Intrinsically Motivated (+/-), Intuitive (+), Sneaky (-), Systematic (+/-).

Songs I associate with Barty:

MUSE ––– MADNESS / THE PRETTY RECKLESS ––– MY MEDICINE / WOODKID ––– RUN BOY RUN / HOZIER ––– ARSONIST’S LULLABY / BLUE FOUNDATION ––– EYES ON FIRE / STEPHEN ––– CROSSFIRE / X AMBASSADORS ––– UNSTEADY / JRY ––– PRAY / HALSEY ––– CONTROL / ST VINCENT ––– ANTIDOTE / CIVIL TWILIGHT ––– HOW’M I SUPPOSED TO DIE / DAVID BOWIE ––– LIFE ON MARS.

Some headcanons:

ONE ––– In the summer before the start of his Third Year, he developed a tic of sorts. It was uncontrollable and unmanageable and the harder he fought it, the worse it became. His mother pretended she didn’t notice it and his father tried not to appear as visibly disgusted as he was by it. While it gets worse when he is around his family, it is still present every day in Hogwarts.

TWO ––– His OCD reached a meniscus, bubbling over into an obsession with the number five. He has to shake people’s hands five times, nod his head five times, shut his wardrobe door five times, and every night before bed he has to tap his wand against his bedside table. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

THREE ––– Since the start of this school year, Barty has decided to break off all contact when it come to his father. He stopped writing him letters, and made sure to tell his mother to do the same. The worst part about this is that it seems the lack of interaction hasn’t even been noticed.

[hogwartsuniversity-rpg]

Sirius Black | Gryffindor ✗ Major: Literature | FC: Ben Barnes

✗ Traits:

+ Easy going, adventurous, smarter than he lets on

- Cocky, inconsistent, emotionally unavailable 

Ø Past:

Sirius Orion Black should have been his parents’ pride and joy. As the eldest son of the eldest son of the eldest son of the Black family, he was expected to be the next great patriarch. The Blacks traced their heritage to a Baronetcy granted after the English Civil War and have an honest-to-goodness framed page from Dungale hanging in the foyer to prove it. However, somewhere along the line one of the ancestors had been a younger son, and when the titled side of the family died out, forgotten drama deprived the surviving branch of inheriting the title. A fact Walburga and Orion Black remain jealous of to this day. Sirius, for his part, couldn't care less about family history, except to laugh at the striking similarity to the Elliots in Persuasion. Lady Susan remains his favorite Austen, but that is mostly because he doesn’t think he makes much of an Anne Elliot. For one thing, he doesn’t see the value in a persuasive temper, though perhaps that’s because he’s spent most of his life fighting against his parents’ expectations. He was meant to be proud and powerful. You can really spit those words out, what with all the P’s, as it didn’t take Sirius long to learn. When he was young he and his parents could play the part well enough; they’d dress him up and he’d smile just right so he might be smirking (like his father did) for all their rich friends, but when they were alone, well… relations between the boy and his parents been frosty for most of Sirius life.

He never liked to talk about it, or think much about it if he could help it, and maybe that’s why he can’t remember when their relationship flew south for the winter and never came back. It could have been when he was five and his parents wouldn’t let his new black friend come over, it could have been when he was eight and first heard them talking about ‘filthy queers,’ or when he was nine, or when he was 6, or, or, or… Or maybe those were only the times' fuel got added to the fire. The truth, he knew deep down, was that in addition to being horrible people, his parents were simply unprepared to be parents. Babies are loud and messy and emotional and everything his parents hated. Sirius later thought of them as more actively abrasive versions of Tom and Daisy Buchanan. They were wealthy and careless and absentee and, well, Fitzgerald never gets into how the daughter grew up in the end.

So, Sirius rebelled. In everything he ever did. He wore his hair long and stayed out too late. He tried to run away three times before he was 15. The third time he got dragged back into the house by his ear he saw Regulus’s face— tired and drawn— and they might be less than a year apart but Sirius never wanted his little brother to look that old again, so he stopped running. Still, he never stopped regarding himself as a soldier in a one-man war and was always searching for the next inch of ground he could gain from his parents. He was determined to love everything they hated. He never regretted fighting them, either. Every cut from a bottle shattering against the wall near his head after Walburga drank too much was a medal of valor. Every bruise Orion left on him (always where clothes would cover it) after Sirius pushed just far enough was proof he was winning. Every screech that pierced his ears was a war cry. Once when Sirius was 13, Regulus asked him if he had any sense of self-preservation whatsoever. “Yes,” Sirius had told his brother, “I’m preserving myself against them. You ought to as well.” Regulus infuriated his brother because he bowed his head and went with all the shit their parents said, but in some ways, Sirius couldn’t help blaming himself. He’d rebelled, he’d separated himself from the Blacks. That had left his parents with only Regulus. They funneled their anger, their hatred, at Sirius, yes, but he knew they pushed their manipulation, their pressure, onto Regulus. As pissed as Regulus made him, he got it. Maybe he didn’t understand it, how he could play their games, but he got it. They were his parents. Hell, Sirius wouldn’t have fought so hard if they weren’t. On some level, Sirius knew he was pushing back because he wanted what every kid wants; for his parents to engage with him, to love him. Regulus sucked up in search of that, Sirius fought back. At least, the war had started that way. By the end, Sirius wanted nothing to do with them, but at its roots, well. Some rich kids smashed expensive cars into trees, he smashed himself into his parents’ ideology. Same basic principle.

As a result, he’d been planning his escape to Uni for practically as long as he could remember. He’d accepted going to Hogwarts as a legacy student, mostly because of the school’s somewhat funky reputation, and actually leaving was one of the most liberating experiences of his life. He’d been to boarding school before, but with overbearing headmasters and Walburga and Orion never more than a short drive away, that hadn’t done much to elevate the stifling nature of his childhood. That said, he’d taken every chance to fuck around in the past and had every intention of continuing the tradition at Uni. He might be able to angst and brood like Mr. fucking Rochester, but he honestly preferred what he would call a certain care-free roughness. Chaotic Good, as he described his sixth form DnD character. Consequently, he’d never been fond of self-reflection, but if he’d bothered, he’d have realized that those first few months with James and Remus and Peter were terrifying. He’d been so angry his whole life, he never really learned how to make friends casually. So, when he met the three of them during Freshers Week and knew in an instant he wanted them to be friends, he threw himself wholly into making it happen. Any scheme James thought up, any late night Remus wanted to stay up talking, any homework Peter wanted to put off to play just one more round of chess, Sirius agreed, no questions asked. He never thought about the possibility of being rejected, only plowed forward with everything he was. In the year that followed at Hogwarts, he did everything in much the same way: full speed ahead, no questions asked.

He didn’t mean to be careless or to run over people's lives with his own, he just couldn’t bring himself to care that he did. Sirius lived for the moments and didn’t see anything wrong with that. He was of the opinion that anyone who had a problem with him, his friends, or their pranks was too sensitive, and they only hated people who deserved it. Grey area was a concept Sirius had a hard time grasping. He and his friends were good, nothing they did could be evil. People like his parents were evil, no one who was associated with them could do anything good. He had no illusions of being perfect, (that, after all, would be boring) but in the end, he was one of the good guys.

As his second year at Hogwarts opens, that certainty is flagging. He’s grown up to realize some of the pranks he’s pulled and the ways he’s acted have been very, very not cool. Other people have told him he needed to lay off before, but he’s always dismissed them as being uptight. He knows he has a… big personality, and that people listened to him, that he could goad people into doing things. So, coming to those realizations, he’s starting to see that he’s been hurting people. And it’s messing with his head. He’s thought back to all those pranks and jokes that had been just so funny only to hear a voice keeps telling him “you are just like your parents.” Whether that particular thought is true or not, he’s trying to change. He’s struggling with what needs to change and the walls of stubbornness he’s built up, but he’s promised himself he’ll at least pay attention. He has no plans to follow the rules to the letter, or anything crazy like that, but he is growing more aware. Of himself, and of the world around him.

→ Connections:

The Marauders (James Potter, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew) - Best Friends. Sirius is a proud drama queen, but he’s not being over the top when he says he’d die for any of them.

Regulus & Narcissa Black - Family. Sirius has a difficult relationship with family, to say the least. He cares for Regulus and Narcissa and wishes they’d come to their senses and stop playing their family’s mind games.

Bartemius Crouch Jr. - Hates. Barty’s angsty teenager attitude ticks Sirius off, as does the fact that he thinks he’s so rebellious when he refuses to actually stand up to his dad.

James Potter - Best Friend. Sirius is closer to James than he is to the other Marauders. He loves them all fiercely, but James is a brother to him.