#muggle murder au

[slytherizz]

Sebastian Sallow with a Muggle Significant Other Headcanons

Co-authored by @diligentcranberry

Sheepish as he is to admit it, until he met them, Sebastian always felt rather bad for muggles and their lack of magic.

Being rather shocked initially when he realised that this captivating person who has caught his attention is, in fact, not a wizard/witch at all yet they're so bright and clever he is fascinated by them.

Scheming of ways to get around the statute of secrecy when they're first together because being limited from magic in front of them at first feels like torture.

And he wants to impress them and open them up to all these amazing things he knows.

But the more time he spends with them discussing mythology, history, art, and all manner of things challenging his mind in new ways, that need for magic lessens.

Seb, who realises it may not be the magic he craves but the intellectual stimulation from learning and debating.

Initially baffled by their muggle habits and how long everything takes.

Seb who realises how when his partner does something as simple as brewing a cup of tea for him it takes so much more effort, but he swears it makes it taste better.

Sebastian, whose love language is acts of service and wants to take care of the people he loves.

Starts doing things for them the muggle way and expressing that love in the labour of it a flick of a wand can't replicate.

Relishes how heavy their bags are when he insists on carrying them. How their skin puckers when they wash dishes together. How long the journey is when travelling by train and not by floo and all this time they get just to talk and be with eachother.

Experiencing life in a completely different rhythm, he always thought he'd find tedious, but doing it together makes even the mundane seem spectacular.

Sebastian who loves magic and continues to pour over spell books, but his partner opens his eyes to this whole vast world of topics he never knew anything about, and his mind is blown.

He's inhaling anything he can get his hands on science, technology, engineering, and muggles are achieving these incredible things without magic he's not even seen wizards accomplish.

21 year old Seb in 1896 reading a muggle newspaper his partner passes him one morning and finding out about X-rays and radium and he's nothing short of giddy.

Kissing his bemused partner spinning them around wildly because muggles are bloody brilliant and they are the most spectacular of the bunch.

Sebastian who starts using magic less and less at home because his partner makes it seem frivolous.

This has come from mine and Cran's very niche Henry Winters (the secret history) x Sebastian Sallow (Hogwarts Legacy) AU but I think a lot of the headcannons we've been gushing over work for Seb x Muggle!SO regardless.

I'd literally love to hear any other headcannons on this because we have been consumed and loving talking about these.

[iamnmbr3]

uh quora? you sure about that summary?

[possessingtheproperspirit]

Chapter 5

It's the semi-final, and things take a turn.

EVANS ‘STUMPS’ SNAPE IN LATEST STRICTLY DRAMA! 

By R. Skeeter for Daily Mail Online 

All any Strictly fan was able to talk about on Friday was Lily Evans’ Reddit adventures, and for good reason as the usually-tight-lipped dancing Firecracker lived up to her nickname, letting loose on her rumoured paramour Severus Snape and giving her full support for beleaguered dance partner James Potter...

Read on A03 -- FFN.

Read from the beginning.

[phoebe-delia]

All That Jazz

Entirely self-indulgent. This is a mini "Chicago" AU (as in the movie musical. yes I know it originated on the stage. I've seen both and I like the movie better so that's what I'm using). CW: mention of murders, jail, American AU, 1920's AU, Muggle AU, Past Harry/Male Character(s), Past Draco/Male Character(s), immoral characters. Also this isn't so much a warning as a note that I am writing CHARACTERS here and the views they express do not necessarily align with my own. Also I borrowed like. A couple lines from the movie lol.

Harry scowled at the newspaper clippings in front of him. One attorney advertisement after another. They all blended together after a while. He knew enough from listening to the shows on the radio that they'd have to give him a lawyer if he wanted one, but he didn't trust whatever government sleaze bag they'd stick him with. Besides, he had enough money saved up to afford his own. Thank god he'd made Mike get that prenup.

Hopefully, it wouldn't cost too much. He needed the rest of that money to get a place of his own. And an agent. Harry closed his eyes and let himself dream, for a moment, of life outside the jail cell. Of bright lights and tight costumes and roaring applause. He'd get there one day.

His daydreams were interrupted by the sound of boots clicking against the concrete floor. He frowned; the other inmates wore tennis shoes, and the warden had already done the hourly inspection. That meant there was a visitor.

Harry stood from his bed and walked to the door of his cell, watching with wide eyes as a tall, handsome man in a suit shook hands with—

No. It couldn't be.

"Draco Malfoy?" Harry gasped.

The strange man looked at Draco amusedly and said something to him Harry couldn't hear. Draco rolled his eyes and shooed the man away. He turned to face Harry expectantly while the stranger walked off.

Harry nearly tripped over himself to walk up to Draco. "You're the Draco Malfoy!"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "And you are?"

Harry blushed. "I, er, I'm Harry Potter. You're not going to believe this but–but I was there! I was there at the club that night you killed your husband and your friend! When you were arrested!"

Draco scoffed. "Yeah, you and half of Chicago."

"Well, sure, but—I just have to say I'm such a huge fan. I loved that act you had! With your friend?"

"My former friend," Draco drawled. "Must you make me relive the worst night of my life? Or is there something else you'd like to discuss? I have work to do."

Harry looked away. "Er, sorry. What work?"

"On my defense. For my trial. Which is what you'd be working on too if you had half a wit."

"Hey," Harry frowned. "I'm still hiring a lawyer."

Draco laughed meanly. "Take your time with that. Definitely no rush or anything."

Harry crossed his arms. "Oh, yeah, like you've already got a lawyer."

"As a matter of fact I do."

"Oh yeah? Who."

Draco smirked. "You just saw him leave."

Harry's heart dropped. "That was your lawyer?"

"Mmhm. Blaise Zabini. Ring a bell?"

Harry shook his head. "Never heard of him."

"He's only the best criminal defense attorney in the state. Seriously, Harper. Open a newspaper sometime."

Harry frowned. "It's Harry."

Draco waved a hand and turned to walk into his cell. "Whatever."

Without thinking, Harry grabbed his wrist. "Wait—"

Draco yanked out of his grip with a sneer. "Don't touch me!"

Harry winced. "Sorry, it's just. D'you think Blaise Zabini would take my case?"

"Don't know. Don't care. Don't want to continue this conversation." Draco smiled sarcastically. "Goodbye Henry!" Draco stepped into his cell and shut the door in Harry's face.

Harry clenched his fists and shouted, "My name is Harry you asshole!"

When no response came, Harry sighed and walked back to his cell. When he returned, he grabbed a pen and ripped off the corner of his newspaper.

He pressed the paper against the wall and wrote: Blaise Zabini.

[777heavengirl]

spill your guts

sirius black x reader one-shot ! warnings: miscommunication? (apparently, that’s all ik how to write), friends to lovers, mentions of injury, no war AU! word count: 6,730 masterlist a/n: sorry I've been MIA uni is BEATING my ass and i rewrote this like 35 times, enjoy!

“I have this dream that I am hitting my dad with my quidditch bat” Sirius's clammy skin and the breeze that flew in from the window you had slightly cracked open when he awoke hyperventilating, caused goosebumps to crawl up his skin. You stayed quiet at his confession, your eyes trained on his face but his burned holes into your baby blue duvet. “And all he does is scream and cry for help-“

He took a sharp breath, this was one of those rare times when everything rotting inside him tried spilling out. For many years it was just James and Remus, Peter occasionally, but now he found that he couldn’t help but want to spill his guts to you. You stayed quiet as he spoke, scared to say anything that would cause him to shut himself in again.

”And maybe halfway through, I realized that it has more to do with me killing him than it ever did protecting myself.” Sirius never spoke of his father. His mother usually plagued his nightmares and it was the abuse he was more inclined to share.

Not his father's.

”He was really pushing his luck-“ His dry laugh, seemed cruel, but you could see how his fingers fidgeted, playing with a small thread on the edge of his boxers. The need to light a cigarette flashed in his mind. 

You knew the man was dead. You were with Sirius and the rest of the marauders the day he was buried. After everyone else had left the funeral, the brothers stared at the coffin on the altar of the mausoleum the rest of their family rested in. Regulus didn’t speak a word but gripped Sirius’s arm with white-hot knuckles. Sirius put his cigarette out on the shiny, polished wood, one last act of defiance. His brother nodded, almost as if in approval, but not quite, and apparated away with their family house elf soon after. Sirius linked his arm with yours. You didn’t ask how he died, nor did you ask about the brothers' relationship now that both of their abusers were dead and buried. Now that everything between them rotted away.

You never wanted to push the boundary more than he’d let you. Your relationship, if that’s what you could call it, was already precarious as it was.

Tonight had started like many others, Sirius knocking at your door. The flat you shared with Dorcas in front of the one he shared with Peter and Remus. And you answered, you always did.

“you look good tonight-“ You thought the way too small sleeping shorts were the reason he said so, it wasn’t the mismatched socks or the oversized muggle band tee you had stolen from their dorm fifth year. Definitely not the messy, bed-ridden hair. He had only seen your face, the glint in your eyes, and the pull of your smile. That had been enough for him to decide you were the most beautiful creature on the planet. “can I sleep in your bed?” You said yes.

You always said yes.

You didn’t have sex. But you slept together, his fingertips digging into the supple skin of your waist as he slept with his face buried in your neck. You often played with his hair, tracing spirals on his back until he snored softly. You wouldn’t have guessed that tonight would end up with him waking up, in a cold sweat and gasping for breaths, much less confessing his dreams of murdering his already deceased father.

You didn't hold that against him.

You took a hesitant hold of his trembling fingers, he seemed to welcome the touch as he intertwined his fingers with yours.

He pulled you close to him again after he laid back down. The window remained open with the nippy night breeze flowing in, but his skin eventually lost its goosebumps and his grip ultimately loosened, he was soft and warm and moldable now. He melted onto your side and you couldn't help but stare. At his perfect nose and perfect lips, the weight of the world that he held on his shoulders faded away when he slept, even if just for a few hours. 

You reveled in the fact that it was your bed he felt this comfortable in.

You hoped it was only yours.

-

Even the mornings where he had crawled out of your bed and your flat, the ones where you awoke alone and cold, he stayed in your head. He had imprinted himself on your mind, he had made it his home. Sirius Black, the man you were not dating, but the man you shared your bed with, occasionally made breakfast with in between fits of laughter. The man who had declared very loudly, and very drunkenly, that you'd make the perfect girlfriend at a party four months ago, and yet continued to ignore any hint that there might be something else between the two of you. Your bed felt cold the rare nights he didn't knock at your door, at this point your entire apartment called for his presence. Dorcas joked that he was your third roommate.

You always wondered if he had found some muggle girl to woo for the night, sleep in her foreign bed, and disappear in the morning. You wondered if he ever stayed 'til the morning in their beds, if he enjoyed them more than he enjoyed you. If your bed and your embrace weren't enough.

Until there was a knock at your door, the clock marked 1:27 am.

"A long time ago, my great-great-great-great-grandfather took something that did not belong to him," You wondered if this would also become ritual, him baring his heart naked. Baring his family's sins, his sins, to you. As if your divine acceptance would tip the scales, and that it would weigh his heart as pure. Your skin was the one riddled with goosebumps this time, as the cold that seeped through the window nipped at the thin material of your shirt and you duvet stayed discarded at the foot of the bed. You didn't mind it. He blew the smoke of his cig out the open window and turned to look at you again, unapologetically staring into your eyes. "And that is why I kind of look the way I do, 'm part Veela," you wondered if his confessions were a new level of intimacy you had gained access to. 

"As if I couldn't tell," he gave you a crooked smirk, the type he gives you when he's about to make some obscene, dirty joke. He didn't this time though. You visibly saw his shoulders relax when you made a quick quip, ignoring the heavy atrocity of his ancestors. It wasn't him after all, why would you hold it against him? He hummed, reveling secretly in your compliment. Maybe you genuinely did think he was beautiful. Regardless of the tattoos that now littered his body, or the scars of abuse that would never leave him, or even the random bruises that sometimes stained his porcelain skin, from his bike, from Moony's transformations, from everything. Maybe you even saw past the commitment issues, and unspoken words, or the fact that he left you to wake up to an empty bed often.

Maybe, somehow, you were able to look past all of that. All of him.

Sirius knew it was wishful thinking.

-

“Don’t look at me like that Moony,” Sirius said with a groan as he stood at the door, still holding the handle from closing it. Remus glared at him from the top of his cup as he sipped his tea, Sirius really wanted to skip the whole lecture, you woke up early meaning he also had to, and had to make the treacherous journey across the hall. He glanced at the clock on the wall, it glanced 6:30 am back at him. Why was Remus even awake?

“you’re a prat Padfoot-“

”I needed some sleep, it's not like we're-“

“It doesn’t matter, what you’re doing to that poor girl is horrible, if you really can’t sleep drink some tea, go to a physician” Remus turned his back to Sirius, angrily cleaning his cup in the sink, although he couldn’t see him, Sirius knew Remus’s face was twisted into one of disappointment and anger. “you know she loves you, and you use it instead of telling her there will never be anything between you-“

”I love her”

”You’re not in love with her, are you?” He turned the water off, turning around with a glare as Sirius stayed quiet. “She is.”

Sirius didn’t know what he felt for you if he was honest. He loved you, though. He had always loved you. From the days you ran around with the four of them around Hogwarts, when you passed notes in class, when you accompanied him on secret trips to the kitchens, when you helped clean his wounds at Potter Manor the summer he ran away. Sirius has always loved you.

Remus might think that’s worse.

”Stop sleeping with her and having breakfast with her the morning after, Merlin-“ he took a deep breath, his fingers coming up to rub his temples in frustration and the Welsh accent seeped into his words, “What the hell are you thinking Sirius?”

Remus knew he was being tough, but he felt bad. He felt bad about the way your eyes always trailed after the boy, and how you always stared at Sirius’s closed bedroom door when you were over for tea. You needed to be able to move on with your life. It didn’t help you and Dorcas lived right in front of them.

”Alright Moony,” 

“You’ll leave her alone?” Sirius refused to meet the taller boy's eyes.

”I’ll try”

- 

Sirius did not listen to Remus. 

He never did really, but he felt guilty now. He stared at you from your bed, you paced around stripping away the day, being a healer at St Mungo's was an arduous job most days. Some it was just kids with dragon pox and their mothers who came with worry stitched in their souls, doing rounds with residents that had been there longer than you, the older ladies always gave you candy. You didn't know where they were getting it from. Most nights you dragged yourself into your apartment late enough you might as well say it’s morning, and dropped, ruined and exhausted, on your bed. The worst days, it was back-to-back shifts of trying to heal curses, creature attacks, and mysterious maladies that left you drained and hopeless. Ones that made you fear the magical world that surrounded you. These nights you would've sought Sirius out, the way he did you, but you didn't need to. He was always there, somehow knowing and waiting outside your door. Sometimes, he was just exiting his apartment, going to knock on yours when you came up the stairs, other nights, like this one, he waited for you. He sat on the floor with his back against your door and his eyes closed until he heard your footsteps. He stood and greeted you silently with a kiss to your temple.

He trailed after you, into your room and onto your bed. So he sat, his back against the wall and the bottom parts of his legs hanging from the bed. He didn't say much, he observed as you sighed and sniffed, wiping your eyes as you muttered to yourself. He watched in awe as you took off the green healer robes they made you wear, your buttoned shirt coming off with it. 

“I don’t understand how hard it is to keep your kid away from places like those, the kid was barely five and now he has all these welts-“ you huffed in frustration as you stripped off your pants and walked into the bathroom, the door open so you could continue to ramble “how does a five-year-old get cursed? I had to call the Ministry-“

Sirius didn’t think he could deny the fact that he reveled in these moments, he couldn't hide it for the life of him. The ones where you were so comfortable with him, walking around in your mismatched underwear angrily rambling about negligent mothers and how now you have to testify at the Ministry next week. It was laced with domesticity and a cloying sweetness that covered his skin. He wanted to stop you and kiss you silly. To sleep with you, in all your naked glory, and not care because you’d be together. He shook away the need to keep you for himself. He shuffled close to the edge of the bed, his feet finally touching the floor and he picked up a trinket on your nightstand. He bought it for you when he visited France last summer. He promised Regulus he'd gone to see him a few days. It went well, he realized. He also thought of the fact he didn't tell you that's what he went to do.

”Sirius?"

"Hm?" he finally focused back on your words, his eyes flickering back to you and the small smile that formed on your lips when you saw what he had in his hand. 

"I said, what'd you reckon will happen to the kid?" your smile faded, and you picked nervously at your cuticles as you thought about him. Would they take him away? Would he be put in an orphanage? It was protocol you had no other choice but to call... and yet you couldn't stop thinking about it. You started moving around your room again, like a bee collecting pollen from flowers. Bees were cute, right? Sirius hoped you wouldn't think he was silly, Bees were cute, he decided. You grabbed a couple of items of clothing, collecting them in one arm as the other one massaged your scalp. 

"I dunno," he remembered to answer now, "I had never thought about it,"

He could hear you turn on the shower, but you padded back into the room as the water warmed. You looked at him, still in your underwear, the eye bags underneath your eyes were visible, your makeup long faded by now. 

"You never went because of your mum?" He shook his head, and you shuffled closer, the side of your leg pressed against the bed and your knee knocking with his as you looked down at him. Your hand went to caress his hair instinctively, his soft glossy curls sliding through your fingers easily. "I'm sorry no one noticed Sirius," this part was a whisper now, you feared overstepping a boundary you weren't aware of. He smiled at you, his hand coming up to pinch your naked side. 

You yelped and batted his hand away with a laugh. 

"She's good and dead now, I reckon it doesn't matter anymore-" He gave you a saddened smile, his nimble fingers grabbing a hold of your hand pulling you closer to him again. It was private moments like this, that confused you. The intimacy of it all, the way his lips pressed against the back of your hand and looked at you through half-lidded eyes. You were suddenly hyper-aware of how naked you actually were. You had been friends for the majority of your life, shame was long gone, but when you were so close you could feel his breath across the stretch of your tummy, it felt different.

"I reckon it does matter," You pressed a small kiss to his forehead and unpeeled yourself from him, "don't bury it all inside you, Mr Black"

You floated away now, in the sea of your anxiety over your actions, closing the bathroom door behind you. 

Sirius had a lot of destructive behaviors, he knew that. The smoking since he was fifteen, the reckless way he rode his motorcycle around, the growing collection of tattoos on his body, the tumultuous relationship he had with his brother, Merlin definitely the excessiveness in which he drank, not to mention the way he showed up at the Potter's every once in a while seeking James's comfort and unconditional love, ignoring the fact that the man was a father and had a million things on his shoulders. Lily didn’t seem to mind. At least he was a decent godfather, took care of Harry to perfection, it took a few tries but he got it. Loved him with his entire heart. But you, Sirius, thought you might be the worst of it.

The worst thing he’s ever done to himself is allow for this domesticity between you.

You came back from your shower with your hair slightly damp and smelling of your signature body wash scent, sweet and enveloping. The oversized shirt that covered your torso was almost long enough to cover 'til your upper thighs. It made Sirius’s lips curl into a lopsided smile that he tried to repress.

He was lying down now, starfishing on your bed as he stared at the ceiling.

”Are you coming to bed?” The clock blinked 3 AM at you, and Sirius reached his hand out. You walked closer to him, a small smile playing on your lips. You sent the towel you had been using back to its spot with a swish of your hand. Basic handless magic was a difficult skill to gain but Merlin so gratifying. 

“I forgot my pants silly,” he shook his head no, and reached for your hand with a bit more effort, grabbing a hold of it and pulling you down with him.

”Let’s just sleep, you don’t need those-“ He covered the two of you with your heavy duvet as you laughed, he leaned over you to turn off the lamp on your nightstand.

Yes, Sirius thought as he buried his face in the crook of your neck and threw one of his arms over your torso. You were the worst thing he had ever done to himself. He would never be able to let go, your hands stroking his hair until one of you fell asleep, the small ‘night that slipped past your lips just as your eyes fluttered shut. He'd never get enough of your saccharine scent that enveloped him like a blanket, comforting and warm. All-encompassing and suffocating, in each other’s arms every night, in the comfort of your room. 

Sirius knew it deep in his heart, what he had been afraid of for so long. Maybe Remus had it all wrong, maybe he was in love with you.

Because what else could this feeling be?

-

You tried to ignore the ache in your heart when you woke up to an empty bed. You tried to forget the fact that you’d probably do it all again tonight, and the next night too, all to bear the fruit of nothing. 

Dorcas shook her head and she pushed a cup of coffee towards you. 

“Don’t look at me like that Dorcas -“

”I love Sirius as much as the next guy but-“ you picked up the coffee and sighed at its warmth “He’s being a prat honey-“

”It's not like we’ve been having sex, he just needs some sleep” You shook your head and looked away, afraid that your eyes would betray you, “hell I needed sleep too”

”It doesn’t matter, Y/N you’re a healer get him a stock of sleeping draught and yourself some too while you’re at it…” She furrowed her brows but you stayed quiet, not daring to meet her gaze “I know you love him, but I’m not so sure he sees you that way-“

” I’m not in love with him”

“I didn’t say you were in love,” Dorcas sighed now, placing her cup on the sink and walking towards the small chimney in your flat. “Promise me it won’t happen anymore, that you’ll try to break it off”

”I’ll try Dorcas,” she didn’t believe you much, you didn’t believe yourself either, the Floo Flames engulfed her body.

It was hard to, separate yourself from him that is. Sirius Black was addicting, simply from the way he moved. Just watching him is entrancing on its own. Speaking to him, with his suave words and low tone. Everything about him, everyone craved to have a simple conversation, have even an ounce of his attention. Sleeping in his arms though, heart to heart? Now that was in a league of its own. 

-

You dragged yourself into your building, the day bearing down on you. You half hoped that Sirius would be waiting outside your door again, sitting waiting for you to lay in his arms. Disappointment added to the sack of bricks you felt like you were carrying when you turned to see the empty hallway. You sluggishly made your way up to your door, hoping to see Sirius's head pop out of his apartment door. Giggles came down your hall, as you fiddled with your keychain trying to find your key. The drunken whispers got louder and just as you grabbed a hold of your key you heard your name echo softly down the hall.

You dropped your keys in surprise as you took in the sight. Sirius stood rather close to a short woman, her bubbling laughter and her roaming hands didn't stop when he let his arm drop from her shoulders. All color drained from his face and his drunk, loose smile fell quickly from his lips. The girl that clung to him like gum to a shoe hadn’t noticed your presence nor how Sirius seemed to sober up at the sight of you.

You scrambled to pick up your keys as the blonde started whispering in his ear, starting to pull at him again. He called out your name one more time, moving towards you now, dragging the poor girl down the hallway with him.

“have a good night Sirius-“ 

You miraculously managed to get your key in the hole swiftly, turn it, open, and lock yourself inside just in time. Pressing your back against the door, your heart felt like it might leap out of your chest. You had always hoped that he wasn’t seeing other people, or meeting anyone else. And the absence of encounters just like this one had solidified that thought, you were properly convinced. Now though. You had just been lucky enough to not encounter them. You thought back, it was impossible not to feel like Sirius’s look had been one of guilt. Like he got caught. But the two of you weren’t anything.

You were painfully reminded of that fact tonight.

You hadn't noticed how fast or how hard your heart was beating. You felt like it was ready to break through your ribs, leaving you shattered and with a void in your chest. But it didn't do such a thing. No, you stayed perfectly intact, even as you felt the panic batter your chest and the notion that you were definitely not the only woman in his life torturing your heart.

"What's wrong?" Dorcas said in a whisper as she looked up, her large glasses sliding down her nose. The yellow lamps that decorated your apartment gave Dorcas's dark skin a low golden tone, like the type you'd see in paintings of candlelights and sultry lounges. Marlene was over today, her short, bleached blonde strands fanning over her face as she slept with her head on Dorcas's lap, her arms wrapped around the girl's waist.  If it had been any other time you would've run for the muggle Polaroid camera Lily bought you, flashing a picture of the two of them.

"Sirius was just outside with some girl," Dorcas gasped now and shot up, dropping Marlene's head on the couch. The blonde groaned awake and asked what was wrong.

"Sirius brought home a girl" The blonde shot up as well and the girlfriends ran to the door, trying to look through the peephole. "Well this whole thing has gone arse over tit hasn't it?" Marlene pushed Dorcas off for her turn at the peephole. 

"There's no 'thing' between us anyway"

"Well, shit" The blonde outside kept pawing at Sirius, trying to reach his face, to eat it Marlene guessed. He stared at the door, trying to hold the girl who stuck to him back. Marlene felt as if she was in a staring competition. She knew Sirius couldn’t see her but she still liked the thought that she’d win.

Dorcas was the first to peel herself off of the door and pull you into a tight embrace. Her hand rubbed circles on your back and Marlene followed, embracing the two of you. They smelled coconut-y and sweet, even the remainder of Marlene's stronger perfume wafted over you ever so slightly. It was grounding, really, to be hugged tightly by your closest friends, the smell of home, the comfort of knowing that you were loved, even if it wasn't by him.

"I'll hex him for you if you want" Marlene's suggestion, although serious, wasn't necessary. You shook your head sighing. 

"He didn't do anything-" Dorcas flicked your head now, a frown forming on her face as the three of you parted. 

"Like hell, he didn't-"

"He doesn't owe me anything 'Cas don't be harsh"

"He's been sleeping in your bed for the better part of six months I reckon he owes you a lot" Dorcas gave you a look of pity now, like you were a wounded abandoned animal.

"I say we set his motorbike on fire," Marlene suggested casually like she was talking about the weather. You slowly peeled your layers off, as you dragged your feet towards your room. You knew the girls felt bad for you, but it was your fault. Who in their right mind would let Sirius Black so into their hearts, knowing that no commitment would ever come from it? 

You. 

You would. 

From his muscles softened under your touch, his warmth spreading to your body, to the way he mumbled in his sleep. It was something your soul craved to see, to feel, to hear. He had bewitched you, without you wanting him to, without meaning to allow him. You threw yourself on your bed, starfished and in your underwear, freshly showered. The water did not wash away the regret nor the hurt. They only made you think of coming back to Sirius in your bed, smiling and pulling you into his arms. Your sheets were cold, and tucked in neatly, very unlike the cozy mess Sirius usually made of it. So you stared, long and hard at the white of your ceiling. You prayed sleep would take you, you were exhausted. Like your body had been beaten, like your heart had split in two. 

No such sleep would overtake you. Instead, you could hear frantic knocks on your front door, your muscles twitched but you didn't dare move, like if you breathed he'd know. You heard Dorcas rip the door open, the force of it reverberating through your small flat. 

"You got some balls coming here," It was muffled, but you could still hear the venom in her voice. She didn't let him speak. "You're going to die cold, sad, and alone Black— don't you ever forget it" She threw the door closed now, the bang shaking your room again. It was jarring to hear that, especially from someone as sweet as Dorcas was, and she meant it. Hell, you felt like she would make sure of it, no matter the cost. 

"Sweetheart-" Dorcas spoke through the door, her knuckles grazing the wood but not quite knocking. You didn't answer.

A muffled she must be asleep, and you felt like you could breathe again. You knew Sirius wouldn't end up alone. If he did romantically, the friendships in his life would fulfill that void anyway. He had a family. Most of your friends were his, and you knew, that you could never ask any of them to walk around the uncomfortable wall that seemed to form between you, or god forbid pick sides. It was stupid, you knew there was no reason you should be upset. You were not together. You weren't anything to him, and he wasn't supposed to be to you.

But oh he was. He was everything.

-

On nights like these, you thought you might reach your limit and have to be admitted into the psychiatric ward of St Mungo's yourself. You felt sweaty, and the stuffy healer robes didn't help to ease the heat that crawled up your skin. Your hair felt frizzy and out of place, and your buttoned-up shirt felt like it was choking you, but you couldn't stop. You couldn't afford to nor could the patients that kept coming in. The St Mungo's emergency room was nothing short of a battleground, it was vile and the worst turn to get. Especially during the overnight shift. These were the types of shifts that made you second guess your career choice, the ones that made you want to throw in the towel and drag yourself back into your apartment and never come out. 

"Y/N come on, they're bringing in a flying vehicle accident-" you frowned as you let your turn partner drag you towards one of the newly entered patients. For the first time that shift, you felt dread crawl up your throat, your heart skipping a beat as you saw Sirius lying unconscious on the bed. For a second you thought you had forgotten how to breathe, your fingertips felt numb and your ears rang. His perfect nose was bloody, his perfect lip bruised and split. There were scrapes on his cheeks, and his jeans had been ripped and stained red. It wasn't noticeable at first, but the metallic smell and the caked-on blood on his black jacket became visible as you approached, it all made it clear, it had been bad.

You couldn't understand what your partner was telling you, the ringing in your ears too loud for you to make out the words, but as they moved Sirius onto a proper bed, it all came crashing down again. Repeated prayers of no's rang through your head along with pleas to a higher power to let this be a nightmare, one you'd wake up from cold and sweaty but knowing he's safe. No such relief came, and your fingertips buzzed with electricity once again, moving so fast it was like you moved at two times speed. You couldn't think of anything but prayers, to what? You didn't know, but you did so nevertheless. To the stars, and the heavens, or the magic that ran through your blood, through his. You didn't know. But you muttered words of hope and love, as you cleaned his wounds, hoping he'd hear you.

You busied yourself and basically assigned yourself to his care, after they moved him out of the ER, into one of the beds in the rows of other patients divided by sheets. You barely left his side, just to shower and change into the spare clothes Dorcas had brought you reluctantly, mildly upset you were taking care of Sirius. You ate next to him, talked to him, read your favorite poems, and hummed his favorite songs. He mumbled here and there, and his eyes would flutter sometimes which you took as a good sign but the tension didn't leave your shoulders, and your prayers never ended.

James, Remus, and Peter passed by, dropping some baked goods off and comforting you with teary hugs. 

"I told him that bloody bike would kill him-" Remus said as he shook his head and sat next to Sirius for a bit, his hand on the boy's knee.

"How's he doing doc?" you rolled your eyes, amusement played in James's eyes at the pull of your lips. He had always secretly been a worrywart, but he played it off well as if his heart didn't almost beat out of his chest when he got the call.

"As long as he wakes up he'll be fine-" He smiled genuinely now, "Few broken bones," He hummed, looking at Remus and Peter huddled next to Sirius's bed.

"few broken bones hm? wouldn't be the first time." You talked for a while, each one of you ignoring the nagging feeling of worry. Sirius's boisterous laugh was poignantly missing from the conversation. But soon enough, James's father's duties called and he pressed a kiss on Sirius's forehead and one on yours very fatherlike and apparated away, Remus and Peter gathered themselves up as well not long after.

"Call if anything, okay doll?" Remus pulled you into a tight hug, his lips pressing against your temple as well. Peter gave you a small hug, his eyes trailing over Sirius's form sadly. 

You were left alone again, the window panes that surrounded the hall letting some moonlight in. Time felt like a thick jelly, your eyes staring at the clock as you ran your hands through his hair, the exhaustion was quickly catching up to you. But the thought of another coffee made your stomach churn and your eyelids felt heavy like lead. So you gripped his hand tightly and laid your head against his arm.

If he woke up, you'd be there.

-

Sirius felt like he might be in heaven, the second his eyes fluttered open you were there. Your face pressed between his forearm and the bed, your hand tightly clutching his. He could feel the ghost of your lips on his skin and goosebumps threatened to crawl up his spine, his thoughts straying to your pout. Your closed eyes and your steady breathing made it clear you were sleeping, Sirius couldn't help but smile. He very rarely got to watch you like this, by some miracle he always fell asleep first and woke up second. You were so lovely, with your soft skin and the angelic glow from the light of the moon glaring against the curve of your face. If it wasn't for the stinging in his face or the way his ribs felt like they were collapsing in on themselves, Sirius would've sworn up and down he had died and gone to heaven.

He squeezed your hand, and the weight of the realization that you had been taking care of him fell on him. Guilt clawed at his throat, he had broken your heart and you still took care of him. He'll never forget the look on your face, the surprise, and the tears that threatened to fall. There was no other word to use besides heartbreak, and it had been his fault. He didn't know why he had brought her home, he didn't particularly fancy the girl, but the alcohol made his veins feel warm and she smiled at him and the impulsiveness and self-destruction within himself were a shoot-first ask-questions later duo that ruled his brain. He realized that you deserved more. More than him, more than the empty bed he left you with, or the avoidance of feelings. Sometimes Sirius wished you'd forget him. It would be better for you.

To forget his face, forget his name.

Your eyes began to pry open, and he couldn't help but spill his guts again. 

"For so long I hoped I'd fall asleep at the wheel and crash my motorbike on the ride home-" Your heart jumped to your throat, your head shooting up at the realization he was awake. His words were raspy and as much as he tried they were barely a whisper. "But then you came back from your apprenticeship, and moved right in front and it felt like-" he looked away now, his fingers fidgeting with yours. "Like you were that light at the end of the tunnel." Your hand was still pressed against his. 

"I stopped wanting to fall asleep on the bike, I just wanted to fall asleep with you"

"You are an idiot Sirius Black" The frustration gathered over the last two days flushed your system, tears threatening to fall over "you are so reckless and so utterly stupid-" tears flowed down your cheeks but you wouldn't let them fall, furiously wiping them away with your sleeve. He looked at you heartbroken. 

"I know love"

"No," you shook your head now and stood up, his hand falling back to the bed "You don't know, all I do is worry and care, and you don't!" your laugh came out crueler than you meant but it came out nonetheless "You never care Sirius- Oh and imagine when I don't see or hear from you for days, and suddenly you're dragged in here looking like you're seconds away from dying-" you paced around as you went on, your hands running through your hair in frustration.

"I didn't think you wanted to see me" he stared at you now, hoping to catch your gaze. Hoping to see if you meant it, hoping to see, something. Something that would tell him what he so desperately wanted to know. 

"I always want to see you" You locked eyes with his, his stupidly gorgeous stormy eyes. And he knew, from the pain in your eyes, from the way your pupils blew the second you looked at him, from the way you softened, anger dissipated when you looked at him. You didn't understand how anyone could look like that, how even scratched up he looked like he had been carved out of marble. "All I want is to see you," you were close enough for him to reach for your hand, even with pain shooting down his ribs, he did.

"I'm sorry,” you sat on the edge of his bed, closer than you had intended, as he spoke, looking at your intertwined hands. “and I’m sorry about the lass too-“

You scrunched up your nose, “I reckon that is none of my business” and he wondered how long you had to tell yourself that until you believed it.

”I sent her home, nothing happened-“

“you can go out with whoever you wish”

”I only want you” 

You looked at him again, into his eyes, into his soul. Hoping to catch a flicker of truth. His eyes looked at you with hope and want, and you knew. Sirius would never lie to you, he might be a drunk, and emotionally unavailable, and Merlin knows that he’s a mess, but Sirius Black was not a liar, especially to you. He squeezed your hands, pulling them close to his chest, pressing them against his heart.

”I’m so in love with you, you drive me mad,” he said this last part with a laugh, pulling a teary giggle out of you. You couldn’t help yourself, the wetness of your eyes and cheeks coming without you meaning it to. He swiped a thumb under your eyes, a nervous laugh threatening to spill from his lips, a watery smile forming instead.

“I am regrettably, in love with you as well” You smiled now, looking away from his scoff. His lips curled into a full-fledged smile now, as did yours.

“Am I that awful?”

”I fear so Mr Black,“ you glanced at him teasingly, the glint in your eye he loved so much returning. 

“I reckon you wouldn’t want to kiss a tosser like me then,” You couldn’t help but smile, as the both of you subconsciously leaned closer. His hands cupped your cheeks as your foreheads pressed together. “Can I—“

You didn’t let him finish, finally closing the distance between you. He kissed you shyly, a trait you didn’t know he possessed. You kiss him soft and open-mouthed, a small hum coming from his chest. His fingers hold on to your face, desperate to keep you close, and and you revel in the fact that his kiss turns hungry like he’d never get to kiss you again. 

You part with a small satisfied sigh, foreheads pressed against one another and eyes fluttered shut. Sirius thought about the many times he wondered what this would feel like, to press his lips against yours. He had dreamt of this for months; when you walked around your room in your underwear ranting or every time you opened the door, he dreamt of kissing you in the mornings and late at night.

Sirius realized, as he pressed another kiss to your lips, he had dreamt of kissing you for years.

[hollowdeath]

Oh hello, I just wanted to tell you that what you wrote is amazing! I read it over and over and couldn't stop reading. You are soooo amazing! *((Ugly crying😭❤️))*

And umm.. I would like to share about the imagination in my head about Dark Harry Potter. He joins the Lord Voldemort and betrayed all his friends. When the war ended, the Lord's side Voldemort wins. Everything is in chaos but Harry ignores it all because he only cares about the reader, his old girlfriend. (Harry still loves the reader even though the reader hates Harry.) He might have requested that the Lord Voldemort gave the reader as a reward to him after the war. Something like that, and ummm, a drama that is both bitter and sad and angry at the same time full of longing for each other? A rough and sad lovemaking? 🥺

hi! thank you so much for requesting! i hope you enjoy!

pairing: dark!harry james potter x fem!reader AU (18+)

summary: harry's all-consuming anger successfully tempts him to join voldemort in the war, sending you, his girlfriend, away in an attempt to keep you safe. years later he asks for your return, and is met with bitterness and rage as you struggle to navigate your feelings for each other in a post-war world.

c/w: smut!!! angst!! slow burn! mentions/threats of weapons, violence, abuse, and death/murder. smut is all the way at the end (grinding, oral, penetration, submissive!harry & dominant!reader) lightly edited, not book/movie/canon accurate

word count: 12.6k

a/n: this is giving me manacled x star wars and i love it lol, so so so much fun to write. i tried to make the reader more angst-y and dominant than normal, so if you like this please let me know! sorry if the plot doesn't make much sense. i also started school this week so please be patient with me! going to try and start posting shorter blurbs/headcanons between requests <3

harry was standing at a window in the lord's manor, watching the street below him as people sulked aimlessly by. it was a typical, gloomy day, the clouds gathering heavily above. it had been raining for weeks, maybe even months at this point, and it was beginning to cast a permanent gray shadow across the city. not even the weather could escape the tragedies of the war.

though harry chose to not dwell on the war, he felt its lingering effects. even from his lofty spot in the comfort of the lord's castle, which he barely left anymore. its walls had become harry's second skin. so long as he had everything delivered to him whenever he desired, it was disgusting to him to even think of stepping outside.

yet still, harry could see the abandoned and damaged shops just outside the lord's gates lining the courtyard along the cobblestone streets. the burnt remains of what once was. the sunken-in faces of the remaining people in the city. the lack of light, the lack of life, the lack of magic.

there's a part of harry, a weak cry from deep inside his repressed past, that feels bad. he was once a young wizard with bright eyes walking the streets of these same shops. he once enjoyed the sounds of shared happiness, and found solace in the fact that despite his lack of, there would always be joy in the world around him.

however, as harry grew older, and the circumstances around him shifted, he found himself getting angrier more often. not just on a weekly basis over small interactions or mistakes, but all the time, from the moment he was awoken by his nightmares to the moment he fell back into them. harry simply had no room inside of him left for anything else. it was just anger. pure, unbridled anger that only caused annoyance at first, then small outbursts of irritation after a while, and, eventually, he couldn't look at anyone or anything without wanting to physically destroy it for no reason other than he was just angry.

harry was angry at the world for having magic in it in the first place. he hated the divide it caused between muggles and non-muggles, pure bloods and half bloods. he was angry that divide is what took his parents from him before he could even properly know them. he was angry he had to grow up in abuse and neglect under the guise of 'safety'. he was angry he never received an apology, an admittance of guilt, not even a hint of closure for the past that was still controlling his present.

the boy who used to risk his life to save hogwarts and the students inside of it would eventually be the same one to let them fall.

when voldemort came back, and harry's anger was at its worst, he knew there was a connection. he didn't know about horcruxes yet and he certainly didn't know he was one. and yet he knew, somewhere deep inside him again, that it wasn't a coincidence. there was a reason his anger was consuming him, and the reason was voldemort.

after cedric's death, harry had begun to spiral. the nightmares were worse than before, he felt deathly paranoid constantly, and couldn't escape the intruding memories of the graveyard. though harry had managed well enough afterwards, still suppressing his rage, he couldn't hide the change in his personality from those closest to him. ron and hermione were the first to bring it up, but, of course, harry had snapped and told them to mind the business that pays them. despite his resistance, they tried until the very end to help their best friend see through his anger, to remember what was right and wrong.

however, once sirius was dead, it was all over.

harry had simply lost any hope that was left within him. watching sirius fall through the veil, his eyes lifeless and cold, was like watching harry himself die. he didn't think he could get any lower, and then he watched the only family he had left be cursed just within his reach.

harry was never the same after that. when he sat in bed late at night staring at the marauders map in his lap, he thought about how much he hated this life that's been made for him. the boy who lived, the scape goat, the hero, our only hope. it was crushing. harry was just a boy. he wanted to live a normal life.

but he knew he never could. not after tom riddle, not after cedric, not after sirius. even if everything went away tomorrow and harry could just attend his classes and be with his friends, nothing would change. he would still be alone, he would still be angry, and he would still suffer from his traumas. what was the point in fighting for good or living to see the end when you would always end up alone?

except, harry wasn't alone, really. he had you.

if there was one thing in this lifetime, one thing throughout this entire war that could have saved harry, it was you.

you and harry had been classmates for a year or so before really getting to know each other, and started dating not long after. when you were around, harry knew there was something worth fighting for. though he may feel angry and everything and everyone and everything everyone said, harry could never truly be mad with you. it's like when you looked at him the anger was muted, numb, deep inside him, and as soon as someone would interrupt it was bubbling at the surface again.

you were worried about harry, of course, and saw the effects his anger had on his relationships with everyone else around him. besides you.

he remembers you clearly, still to this day, and just how upset you were anytime he lashed out. if he'd felt anything other than anger at that time, it would've been guilt. guilt for hurting you, for scaring you. guilt, but not guilty enough to stop.

the anger was stronger.

even when you asked him, begged him, please, harry, please stop letting your anger win, and even when he promised, swore on his own grave, that he would try harder to stop for you, he never did.

harry was beyond angry. he was spiteful. all he had ever been was kind, a pushover who gave everyone the respect he was never graced with. he's saved strangers who wouldn't spit on him if he was on fire. he's lost his family in their sacrifice for the greater good that now rested upon harry's 16 year old shoulders.

he was beginning to think the fight wasn't worth it.

not only did the fight for good no longer seem worthy to harry, the fight against it only seemed to become more enticing. why should harry continue to risk his life and sanity when there would always be fights of blood purity? why should he be the hero everyone else has always wanted him to be?

for a long time, the answer was you. you were reason enough for harry to keep fighting, to keep his anger under control. when he looked at you things made sense for just a moment, his suffering was worth it to see you alive and well. until it wasn't.

everyone has a breaking point, and harry felt like he had finally reached his. as the war had geared up to a point of no return, harry had to make a decision. he had always assumed his decision was already made for him since birth, but he soon realized he never actually had to follow this path set for him in the first place. he was free to do as he pleased. he wasn't dumbledore, he wasn't his parents, he wasn't even the hero everyone thought he was. he was angry. he was spiteful.

worse than that, harry was vengeful.

so, when he met voldemort in the woods during the battle of hogwarts to accept his death, harry instead offered him a proposal the dark lord simply couldn't refuse. harry potter, his living horcrux, would become his successor upon his death. harry would fight with and for voldemort, training to become the most powerful dark wizard in history, and to finally let tom riddle rest well knowing the world was in just as dark, evil hands as his own.

though voldemort was skeptical at first, naturally, as harry expected him to be, he could eventually see the darkness within harry nearly consuming him whole. he was as serious as death itself. he no longer had the desire within him to continue fighting for, what he saw as, a lost cause. voldemort was rather pleased with this news, though never expected harry to come around like he did. he hadn't even considered it, really. but who was he to deny his own successor?

upon harry's return to hogwarts with voldemort and his death eaters in tow, every single person who watched was stunned into silence. even mcgonagall, who had been instructing and encouraging the students all night in their fight, had become speechless and teary eyed at the sight. ron had to catch hermione, who nearly fell to the floor.

but nobody was as upset as you were.

you had already been sobbing watching harry walk off into the woods towards his own death thinking you would never see him alive again. only to watch him emerge from the same treeline with the enemy by his side. it's like you got kicked in the gut. you would've almost rather never seen harry again.

"harry!" you had screamed in a broken voice as he crossed the bridge, voldemort's snake slithering at his feet. you were running to him, breaking through the multiple arms that tried to hold you back.

voldemort tried to raise his wand to you, but harry had stopped him, telling him to let him handle it. he was suspicious at first, still not fully trusting harry's intentions just yet, but was reassured by the sinister look in his eyes.

harry looked at you. he remembers feeling a twinge of that same guilt from before, the tiniest spark of hope deep within his rage. he really did love you, at least at some point he did. you would've made all of this worth it, you would've been the reason to keep going. but not even you were reason enough anymore. for so long he had been ready to take his revenge on the world that failed him.

"harry, what are you doing?" you had asked him, voice shaking. you were almost whispering, your eyes nervously glancing towards voldemort every other second in fear for your safety. harry grabbed your hands but you pulled them back, a look of disgust coming across your face.

"come with me." harry had told you. your look of disgusted transformed into shock, anger, confusion, and guilt. there were mumblings coming from the crowd of students behind you. "what?" you had asked, nearly breathless at this point, your eyes searching him for answers.

"come with me, [y/n]. i want you by my side as i become the most powerful dark lord in the world." harry explained, taking steps towards you with an excited grin on his face, his eyes still dark with corruption. you were still in shock when he grabbed for your hands. he kissed your knuckles softly with a quiet, "i love you,"

he had meant it, but not like he used to.

it took a few moments of silence and some tense eye contact before you pulled your hands away, letting the tears fall again as you attempted to gather your words. "you can't do this, harry. i will never join the dark lord. you know this isn't right, why are you doing this? why? why?" you're practically begging for an answer as harry looked away, an irritated expression on his face, clenching his jaw together. your hands reached for his shirt and jacket, trying to shake some sense into him as you grasped them tightly and pulled him closer.

"don't you love me?" you had asked him in the most heartbreaking, soul crushing voice. your words were weak, but your sentiment was palpable. you were bloody, dirty, covered in scars from fighting, holding harry close to you as you begged him with wide eyes. not too much earlier in the year he would've folded immediately looking at you, so innocent and desperate, his last bit of hope in the world.

but it was already far too late.

"take her to azkaban," harry had announced, angling his head back to the deatheaters behind him, keeping his eyes locked with yours. your grip on his clothes loosened and shocked gasps came from the crowd. harry looked at voldemort, who was a bit puzzled by the situation, but backed up harry's real nonetheless. "you heard the boy," he snapped towards the men behind him.

the deatheaters walked towards you as you stepped away from harry. "no, no, no, stop!" you were screaming, trying to back away from them, but they had grabbed your arms aggressively and began dragging you towards the bridge. "[y/n]!" a few students had shouted, running towards you before their attempts were blocked by a wave of voldemort's wand. the students fell to the ground, watching helplessly as you continued to fight your way out of the deatheaters' grasps. harry stood still, emotionless, completely stoic as he heard your desperate wails and calls for his name disappear into the woods behind him.

the rest of that night or day or whatever it was has since been completely blocked out of harry's mind, forever. his rage had reached a level he didn't know was possible. all he could recall anymore is the blood, the screaming, the running, and the light of his wand in his hand. many students and professors died during that battle at his hand, along with voldemort's and the deatheaters'. the castle was then burned to the ground, signifying the end of the battle. hogwarts had never stood a chance.

and, now, harry stands in the dark lord's manor, staring at the abandoned buildings lining his street, and he's thinking of you.

he often wondered how life would have been if you had joined him that day. though his years since have been packed with death, fights, destruction, and chaos, there were moments alone or in peril where you crossed his mind like a gentle breeze. a simpler part of his past, a light in his darkness. your soft, kind eyes, wide with shock as you back away from him, fixated on the deatheaters coming to collect you. your sweet, melodic voice screaming and breaking as you were dragged away, fighting for your freedom. harry could remember the moment perfectly despite everything else in his life being a blur.

he wonders how you would have filled the role as his partner in crime after choosing him. two dark lords unstoppable against the forces of the wizarding world, fighting 'good' and spreading evil just as he had been this whole time. would you have succumbed easily to the temptation? would you be as dark as harry was? could you maybe even be darker?

but harry knew it was a fruitless endeavor from the beginning. he had wanted to ask you anyways, to at least give you a chance to make the decision to be with him, even if he already knew what your response would be. harry was a bit let down at first, hoping maybe there was enough love between you to push morals aside, but he knew he would never be that lucky. part of why he fell in love with you way before his anger began was your commitment and dedication to what you believed was right. that same trait would be the driving force behind his decision to lock you away.

harry knew you. and he knew you wouldn't stop fighting until your body gave out, and maybe even after that. he may have lost you by sending you to azkaban for the foreseeable future of the war, but he'd rather know you were safe somewhere solitary than spend his years wondering where your dead body had been rotting into the dirt all this time. though azkaban was desolate, dark, isolated, and torturous, it allowed harry to sleep at night thinking of your still-beating heart resting safely behind those impenetrable walls.

lately his nights had become more restless, though, as the thought of you still residing in azkaban began to sit with him. he didn't feel guilt, really, he knew it was what was ultimately best for you. but he did miss you.

after the war had died down and voldemort took his place as the rightful dark lord of the world, harry's anger began to subside for the first time in years. rather than rage fueling his insatiable desire to destroy, he felt incredibly numb and disengaged with everything around him. the desolate streets and grim sky and abandoned city outside the windows began to fit his mental state more and more. for the first time since he was a teenager, harry could see past the anger.

and all he wanted was you.

so, harry had reached out to the dark lord, who spent most of his time at his new ministry castle across the country from the old manor he let harry watch over. they communicated every so often, checking in on business and social matters, but otherwise never had to meet in person. 

harry sent him a letter asking for your release and direct delivery to his household, barring from reason. he felt after the war he had lead with and for voldemort, he owed harry a singular favor all these years later.

it only took 2 days for a confirmation letter to be sent back to harry, signed by voldemort himself, dating your arrival for the next day.

harry had his house elf, jinx, make up your room, asking her to be sure it was comfortable and clean before your delivery tomorrow afternoon, and to also provide plenty of options for dinner.

harry spent all night thinking about you, wondering what you'd look like after all this time. how similar or different you would be from what he remembers. how you'd react to seeing him. he knew you well enough to know you wouldn't react well, likely needing an extended period of alone time to adjust being here before he'd ever get a civil moment with you. but he was up for the challenge, otherwise he'd never ask for your return in the first place. he was releasing his anger, and instead building his patience, if not just to hold you one more time.

there was a delicious smell filling the mansion as the clock drew nearer to your arrival. harry was dressed better than he had been in years, and had jinx make the usually desolate looking building feel warm and inviting. fireplaces roaring, warm lamps flooding the hallways, and the grand dining table set to perfection for 2 particular guests.

harry didn't want to make it too obvious, but it was hard for him to hide how excited he was to see you again. even if you were different, even if you hated him, all he wanted was to see you in person, his eyes locking with yours for the first time since the day you were dragged away at his command.

once the hour was upon him, harry could hear footsteps and voices on the second floor. his heart leaped, setting down his glass of wine before heading for the stairs.

"let go of me, let go of me," a strained voice was crying down the hall, the sounds of a struggle coming from harry's left. he saw two house elves, rather squat and bulky, holding onto the arms of a frail body covered in a simple striped prison dress.

one elf turned to harry and gave him a devilish grin, "ah, there's the man himself!" he growled, his partner turning as well. "sorry we were late, mr. potter, someone here wasn't too keen on leaving azkaban, for some reason," he apologizes, pulling at the arm he's holding.

you slowly turn your head and stop struggling, your eyes wide with fear and mouth dropped open. "harry?" you whispered to yourself, your knees nearly giving out beneath you before the elves aggressively pulled you back up.

the first elf groans, rolling his eyes at you. "where can we put her, huh?" he asks, his tone impatient. harry pulls a few gold coins out of his pocket and hands them over to both of the elves. "right here is just fine. thank you, boys," he tells them.

the elves happily accept the tips and drop you to the ground, quickly disappearing in a flash.

you're left heavily breathing on the floor of the hall, sniffling and groaning in pain before diverting your attention to harry. your eyes were still wide, your eyebrows creased in confusion as you tried to move yourself further away from him on your hands and knees.

harry gave you your space, but watched intently as you nervously increased the distance between both of you. your hair was long, tangled, greasy, and falling around you like a curtain. you were smaller than he remembered, your eyes sunken in and cheeks more hollowed than before. you were pale, and visibly dirty. the soles of your feet were nearly black.

harry felt a pain in his stomach, his blood pressure rising imagining how you lived inside the walls of the prison. he couldn't identify the feeling. it was different from anger, but it wasn't far off.

as you continued to back up, your eyes shifted to a widow on your right. you slowly gained the energy to lift yourself and reach for the window, throwing it open before attempting to stick your hand out.

your hand hit the open window like you had never moved the glass barrier. you continued trying to stick your hand and head out, hitting at the invisible barrier with all your strength, making frustrated sounds.

"there's a spell on the house, love. you can't leave, just for now, until we can work things out," harry tried to explain gently as you continued trying to escape. he took a step towards you and you stepped away, leaning on the wall for support as you began to cry harder.

"get away from me, get away, what the fuck, what the fuck is happening," you tried to shout at him, your faced turned away and other arm putting distance between you and harry. you were gasping for air, your voice stressed and broken, shaking your head as you tried to continue backing up into the wall.

harry still attempted to give you your space. he hated to see you like this. you were so defensive and scared of everything going on around you. he wanted to give you time to calm down, but felt you needed to know what was going on.

"[y/n]," harry said, causing your head to snap towards him with curious eyes. your arm lowered slightly, your knees still weak beneath you. "listen to me, okay? just for a second," harry tried to ask kindly. he hadn't realized just how long it had been since he talked to someone this gently.

you continued to stand defensively, your eyes scanning harry up and down nervously as your breathing slowly started to still.

harry sighed, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before turning his attention to you again. "i know this is a lot, and i know it's confusing," he starts, his voice unexpectedly shaky. "but i asked voldemort, and i had you released from azkaban. i figured you may like a warm place to stay, so i had you brought here,"

you still looked confused for a moment before you narrowed your eyes, your arm coming up once again to defend yourself. "what are you talking about? where are we?" you asked harry suspiciously, still scanning him from head to toe.

"my manor. well, the lord's manor, but, essentially mine," harry says a bit awkwardly. you gave him a look of disgust, leaning further into the wall for support. "why would i want to be here? with you?" you practically spat at him with hatred in your eyes. harry was unaffected.

"i know you don't. but there's nowhere else to go. i promise." harry tells you solemnly. your eyes widen a bit again, a flash of fear coming across your face, but the anger quickly returns.

"i'd rather live in rubble than prop my feet up in the dark lord's manor," you say sharply, taking a step towards him in attempt to intimidate him. though you weren't much shorter than harry, you were weak, and tired, and he wasn't necessarily afraid of your threats.

he took a step back anyways, giving you more space. "look," he says, his eyes turning to the floor before he can steady his breathing and reply. "it's just for now. if you really don't want to stay, i won't make you." he says softly before returning his eyes to yours. they're not as bright as he remembers them in his dreams about you.

"but," he says, causing your jaw to clench. "you will stay until you're well again. and it's not up for debate." harry tells you firmly, his tone not as gentle as before.

you swallow harshly, your stomach growling audibly as the smell of the food downstairs begins to settle into your senses.

harry notices this and smirks to himself before quickly returning to a neutral state. "now," he announces, straightening out his blazer. "until the food is ready, there's a room made up for you just down this hall and to your left. it has a bathroom, and clothes. take all the time you need." he says before promptly turning on his heels and heading downstairs, his heart still racing from his encounter with you.

sitting in the living room watching the fireplace in front of him, harry eventually hears the door of your new bedroom click open and swiftly close. not long after he can hear the plumbing rumble as you take your first shower. he smiles at the fact that you're finally in his life once more, even if the circumstances were completely unusual.

harry's nearly concerned and wanting to send jinx to check on you after 2 hours of running water before it stops, the sound of the bathroom fan taking its place. harry's relieved.

"jinx, could tell our guest the foods ready," harry tells the elf as she brings the last tray from the kitchen to the dining room. she nods to herself, shuffling up the stairs sluggishly.

harry's pouring another glass of wine in the kitchen and decides to pour you one as well. on his way into the dining room, he sees you standing in the entryway. you're dressed in a large jumper, oversized pajamas bottoms, and your hair is still rather wet plopped into a bun on top of your head. your skin is rubbed raw, your cheeks still flushed pink as you analyze the table full of food in front of you.

harry smiles at your shocked gaze, your stomach growling again as he tries to hand you your glass of wine. you turn your nose at him, taking a step back. he smiles curtly and heads to his seat, setting your glass with his.

"figured you might be hungry," harry says as he sits down, his plate made for him already. he looks at you, arms still crossed, nose turned away, but eyes peeking at the endless food at your disposal. he can tell you're trying to keep your guard up, but your stomach hasn't stopped rumbling since you came downstairs.

he gestures to your chair just across from him, a plate made for you as well. you look at him, your eyes curious but expression still tight. you carefully take a step closer to the table, but you're still weary.

harry gives you a sympathetic smile. "after tonight you can have any meal you want in your solitude. i just thought i'd be nice and host my guest for the first night," he tells you, catching your gaze.

your curious look quickly turns to one of anger. "i'm not your guest. i'm practically a prisoner again." you hiss, your eyes boring into his with contempt. harry can sense the rage building inside of you. he's familiar with the feeling.

though you were different in so many ways, your dull eyes and lifeless voice, you were also similar in your determined attitude. you had always been the type to stand up and take charge, which harry completely admired and was impressed by. he found your beauty to be most potent in your strong will and cunning mind.

he admired you for just a moment, looking down at him with enough hatred to send shivers over his body. you looked so young, your skin supple and smooth under the light of the candles and fireplace, your hair falling loosely to frame your furrowed brow. you were just as pretty as he remembered, even if your expression always contained a hint of sadness and fear around him.

harry simply smiles softly, sitting back in his chair. "i prefer guest," he says teasingly. you suddenly snap at him, grabbing for his steak knife and pushing your arm to his neck against the back of the chair, holding the point of the knife to the side of his neck.

if looks could kill, the knife would've been unnecessary. your eyes were nearly black as you shakily push against harry's throat. "let me out of here now or i swear, harry," your voice cracks saying his name. "i swear i'll fucking kill you," you spit, leaning further into your grasp him on, your jaw clenched tightly.

harry, to your surprise, just chuckles to himself, not even struggling to breathe as he looks up at you deviously. your eyes widen just before you feel your arms start to move for you, as well as your legs. your neck is strained as well, an invisible force pushing you away from harry as the knife drops from your hand.

you're suddenly released from the mysterious grasp, and you choke out a breath, looking back at harry. he's smirking, but trying not to let you see as his pointed hand lowers from you. he fixes his shirt and chair, gesturing again to your seat across from him. "as thrilling as that was, love, not yet. i'd like you to stay here for at least a month before i consider placing you elsewhere." harry states, picking his knife back up to place on the table.

you stare at harry incredulously. "a month?" you ask, your face turning red again. you take another step towards him but you falter in fear of him using the same force as before to stop you. you stumble as your mind races to gather your thoughts. "how…you…i'm not staying here for a month! this is insanity! how could you send me away like that and just bring me back like it was nothing? a shower and a plate of food and suddenly those 5 years in azkaban never happened?"

you're now shouting at harry with a broken voice, your emotions on high as the tears threaten to fall again. harry watches you, just watches, and simply gestures to your chair again. "just join me," he insists.

you go to yell again, but harry sternly interrupts. "we can discuss this another time. please. sit down." he commands from you.

your mask drops for a moment, a look of fear crossing your face before diverting your eyes away completely to your chair. your stomach growls again, your hand covering it to hide the sound.

it takes a few moments until you slowly make your way to sit down, glancing at harry before taking your seat. harry begins eating silently, and, not long after, you're digging into your first real plate of food in years.

harry can't help but smile to himself subtly watching you indulge yourself for a moment, the mask slipping again as you gratefully shovel spoonfuls of food into your mouth with a sigh of relief. he was glad you were eating, even if he had to put up a bit of a fight to convince you.

as harry finishes up, you're still making your way through your second plate. he stands, grabbing your attention and making you curl back into your seat. "jinx," he calls out before sipping the last of his wine. jinx comes to the table and grabs harry's glass and plate, turning to take them to the kitchen. 

"[y/n], this is jinx," harry motions to the elf, who gives you a warm smile. you return the smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes. "if you ever need anything, anything at all, don't be afraid to ask her. she lives to serve," harry tells you proudly, earning a slight look of disgust from you before returning a smile at jinx.

"this was a lovely dinner, ms. jinx, thank you so much, truly," you thank her honestly. she bows to you slightly before continuing her way through the doors to the kitchen.

you shoot harry a glare. "the harry i knew would've never kept a house elf," you say, your words dripping with disdain. harry ignores your statement, turning to the stairs before ascending them.

he leaves you alone at the dining table, closing himself off in the master bedroom for the night. just as he's finishing up brushing his teeth, he hears your door click shut. that night he fell asleep feeling more reassured than he had in years knowing the pretty girl he couldn't keep his mind off of was asleep just down the hall from him.

it had been a few weeks since harry moved you in, and he rarely ended up seeing you in the mansion. you were often locked away in your room, or taking showers, and harry only ever saw you when you were finishing up a meal with jinx.

you had become quite close with her, it seems, which harry found sweet. he was worried at first that you may be using jinx as a way to find an escape from the house, but after a while without incident, harry realized how silly the idea was. you truly could connect with anyone.

one of the only other times he saw you, though, was when he passed by the open library one night. harry had been restless, thinking about his past in depth, feeling emotions he couldn't place, and decided to watch the sunrise to clear his head. he took a quick glance through the doors before spotting you curled up on one of the couches, a book in hand, fast asleep beside a warm lamp.

harry stopped, taking a moment to admire you from afar. you had gained some weight back being here, which harry loved to see. your cheeks were full and rounded, your hands not as frail, and the color was coming back to your skin. your hair looked impossibly soft under the light, sprawled everywhere around your angelic, sleeping face. harry couldn't help the cheesy smile that overcame his face. he was just happy that you were okay.

outside of that, harry spent most of his time alone, thinking about you. you hadn't reached out to him yet, which he expected, but was surprised when a month came and went and you still didn't confront him. he hadn't made his decision just yet, so he didn't have an answer for you even if you had asked him. he saw you were doing better, but still wasn't confident in letting you go. not just for selfish reasons, of course, but he wanted to be sure you were equipped enough to live on your own.

but, harry had to admit, his heart raced when he heard your soft footsteps pass his door to the stairs. his mind went blank seeing your figure standing in the dining room with jinx, chatting over a plate of snacks together. his blood ran cold when he heard your soft giggle from somewhere in the mansion. like a beautiful ghost haunting his past.

harry knew even before he sent his letter to voldemort that his feelings for you had never truly gone away. deep under his rage, his unforgiving heart, his cold blooded nature, his love for you had always remained. but he was learning to accept your departure if you chose to do so. a final goodbye to the most beautiful part of his unsightly life. harry wasn't sure he could handle the idea.

he was struggling with his thoughts, the constant back and forth he was feeling about you. at first harry was sleeping better with you there knowing you were safe, but now he stayed up late worrying himself sick over the decisions he had to make now that you were actually there.

sitting in bed, staring at the rising sun through his window, harry's mind was exhausting him. he hadn't slept all night and could feel the effects setting in. slowly, he stood from the bed and slipped on his house shoes along with his robe. he quietly leaves his room to not disturb you so early just down the hall.

he walks to the opposite end of the hall towards the balcony, and takes his usual seat facing the sunrise.

harry contemplates here most mornings, but never comes to any radical conclusions. he doesn't know what to do, he doesn't know what's best for you anymore. he knows he selfishly wants you all to himself still, but also knows you deserve to live the life you want no matter what his opinion is. it's the same conversation with himself every time, and it leaves him confused and upset for keeping you here like he is. even if his heart is in the right place.

his thoughts are interrupted by jinx, who offers harry a cup of tea. he thanks her, but quickly calls her back to ask a question. "jinx, um…[y/n], how is she doing?" he asks.

jinx, a quiet house elf, gives harry a smile, and pats his shoulder. her smile is warm and reassuring, as well as her hand. as she walks off, harry smiles to himself a bit. he's not completely satisfied with the answer, but he takes what he can get.

finishing his cup of tea with the sun shining over the horizon, harry turns to head inside before being met with the sight of you standing at the open doorway of the balcony. 

you're dressed in a simple long sleeve pajama shirt along with comfortable pants, your arms crossed as the morning chill sets into the air. harry's a bit startled at first, but gives you a polite smile, diverting his eyes and walking around you to leave you be.

"harry," you said softly, turning to him.

harry's heart dropped, but turned to you promptly with eager eyes. the way you said his name, your soft voice, he was already so captivated by you.

"can we talk?"

now harry was worried. this is what he's been afraid of since you got here. he's not ready to answer you. he doesn't know what he's going to say when you desperately ask him to leave and never come back.

"of course," he says calmly, gesturing to the balcony so you could sit together.

once you've joined him in watching the sun, you two fall into a somewhat comfortable silence as the soft wind whistles past.

"i never thanked you," you said quietly after a while, almost a whisper in the wind. harry looked at you, looking at the sunrise. your face was radiant. you were brilliant in the light of the sun, your hair still impossibly soft and beautiful, falling around you, following the flow of the air. harry was overwhelmed with the beauty your presence held in this moment. "you never had to."

you glanced at harry, studying his expression, before turning back to the sun. "it's also been a month." you state coldly. harry's gaze drops, sighing. "57 days, technically," he mumbles.

a few moments of silence pass again, leaving harry an anxious mess in his seat. he tried to think of a gentle way to let you know he still needed time to decide what to do. a way to tell you without putting his life at risk to your anger.

"well, as much as i hate to say this, you were right," you say, still watching the sunrise in deep thought. harry was shocked by your words, immediately sitting up in his seat to get a better look at your face.

you were stoic, your eyes fixated on the scene out beyond your reach. "what?" harry asked, not believing his own ears. a small smile crept to your lips, the first one he's managed to see himself since you've been here. his heart aches at just the hint of seeing it again.

"don't make me say it again, potter," you try to say threateningly with that small smile, your eyes falling to your lap.

harry is stunned into silence, watching you with careful eyes. "but, you were right. i needed time to be healthy again." you said to him, your back still turned. harry stayed quiet, allowing you to continue. "i was angry with you. i still am. i don't think it'll ever stop," you inform him, the coldness returning to your voice. "but," he was preparing himself for the rejection, the questions, the begging.

"i'd like to stay, if you'll have me," you offer in a slightly embarrassed tone, your face turned the other way.

to say harry was shocked at your request is an understatement. he was expecting you to have a plan to take him out if he had rejected your request to leave yet. he never considered the idea that you might actually want to stay with him.

"i'll have you forever, if you let me," harry responds, a small smile on his face as well. you shoot him a warning look. "not forever. just until i feel well again." you tell him, your voice cold once more. you turn back to the sun, now completely over the horizon. "figured you owe me that much," you say in an accusatory voice.

harry just smirks to himself. you could never be soft for long when he was around. but he appreciated that you felt you could ask him to stay, though you never had to in the first place. harry really would have had you forever, if you'd let him.

"stay as long as you need to." he says.

you glance back at him again, your eyes softer this time. you're analyzing him for a moment before turning to him a bit. "it took me a long time to understand why you sent me to azkaban," you tell him, your voice steady and emotionless. harry just watches you, admiring the light surrounding you.

"you would've never stood a chance in destroying the world had i been free," you state, your eyes still examining him. harry offers you another small smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes the same way. "you knew you were weak," you say.

harry's now analyzing your expression, your words swimming around in his mind. "i did," he admitted to you. "it was just easier if i knew where you were all this time," he says breathlessly.

your eyes narrow at him once more, the anger returning to your body language. "easier for you. i would've never done the same if the roles were reversed." you snapped at him harshly. harry believed you. he thought about it a lot in his nightly battles with his own mind.

"you're right," harry stated, still admiring you in your anger. you were upset, but gave harry a questioning look. your eyes softened only a bit. "i think about it all the time," he admits to you gently.

you're a bit puzzled by his admittance of guilt, but don't let it stop you. "i hope it haunts you at night the way it haunts me," you say sharply, your eyes dark.

"always has," harry says to himself, only making you more angry. "you poor thing. must've been so tough relaxing in this mansion knowing i was rotting away in solitary confinement." your voice is strong, powerful, a contrast to the broken words you gave harry your first day here.

"it was," harry says simply, sensing your rising impatience with him. you stood from your seat, towering over him as he continued watching you in wonder. "you evil little rat. you're just lucky my magic is restricted by this spell. i would've killed you in your sleep that first night." you threaten him, gesturing to the protection spell around the castle and balcony.

harry wants to stop himself, but can't keep the smirk off his face. this only angers you more, pulling your arm back and slapping harry square across his face.

he doesn't react, instead allowing himself to stay facing away from you. "i hate you," you state weakly, your hands balled at your side. harry looks at you, the smirk still playing on his lips. "i know," he says softly.

you frustratedly sit back down, turning to look back at the sunrise once more.

a long silence settles over you two, listening to the sounds of the city as it awakens around you. eventually, you stand, turning to leave harry alone on the balcony. you pause before you leave.

"i still never thanked you, harry." you speak softly, your back turned to him. he looks over at you, your curves glowing in the morning light. "you never had to," he replies, and you're off down the dark hallway.

for the next few months, you and harry live together amicably. he sees you around more often as you start to leave the confines of your room. of course the library was a place of solace for you, but he started to see you more in the living room, on the balcony, or in the dining room enjoying jinx's company. for a while you two exchanged polite greetings, simple glances and acknowledgements, before asking about each other's days, or commenting on the weather. it was agonizingly slow for harry, but he was breaking through your walls one way or another.

one day not long after you'd slapped him on the balcony, you sat in the living room with harry, across from his seat on the couch. he was surprised by your presence, but gave you a small smile over his book anyway. "jinx tells me you've been acting different," you'd stated bluntly, watching his face for a reaction.

harry put down the book he was reading, giving you his attention. "have i?" he asks. you were always examining him, your eyes critical but curious at the same time. "she says your anger used to be terrible. even worse than i remember." you lead him on.

harry bit his lip thinking about the years where his rage was at its worst. he tried not to dwell on them, and instead tried to focus on the newfound emotions consuming his life. but he couldn't deny the path of destruction he'd left while seeing red.

harry eventually nodded, his eyes distant. "it was," he admits, his voice just as lost in thought. you shifted in your seat. "you let it ruin everything, harry." you said softly, leaving him looking at the floor in disappointment. "i know," he admitted.

the silence between you was palpable. harry felt the weight of it on his shoulders before you spoke again. "i would hear about the things you did while in azkaban. the guard would tell me even after i asked him to stop." you inform him. harry can still feel your eyes shooting daggers at him.

"for so long i fantasized about being the one to kill you, to finally put an end to voldemort." you said wistfully. harry glanced at you, seeing a longing look on your face. "how brave of [y/n] to put her love aside to kill the dark lord's apprentice." you said in a mocking tone, leaning back in your seat.

harry watched you, imagining you in azkaban, dreaming of putting an end to his life, while he dreamed of freeing you. it was a fair trade, he thought, and not one he would argue against at this point. and it didn't go unnoticed that you mentioned your love for him, either.

"you still can," harry says, causing you to snap your eyes back at him. "excuse me?" you ask with a sneer. harry puts his book to the side and sits up, his feet planted on the ground. "kill me, that is. it's not impossible." he tells you with intrigue.

you're staring at him incredulously, your eyes always searching him. "you're…you're kidding, right? i mean, you took my magic while yours seems to be highly skilled. you really think i'd stand a chance?" you ask with a sarcastic laugh.

harry stands from his seat, taking achingly slow steps around the coffee table towards you. "yes, while your magic is weak, you are not, [y/n]. i've gone out of my way to keep the knives, fire pokers, swords, and hundreds of books on potions and charms out for your use, at any time, have i not?" harry questions you, getting closer now. though you would normally pull back from him, you stay seated, trying to process his words.

standing just before you, harry admires the curves of your face against the light of the fire. "with your nimble step and cunning wit," harry lifts his hand to gently put his fingers to your chin. the first physical contact he's had with you. unless you count the time you held that knife to his throat. "you could gut me like a pig before i even have the chance to squeal," harry's voice is soft but dark, your breathing caught in your throat at the contact.

as he backed away, harry could see the physical effect he had on you. your nervous blinking, your jaw tightening, hands trembling; he found it sweet he could still do that to you, even if you claimed to hate him.

after that day, harry felt less tension between you two. maybe being vulnerable around you made you realize he was never a threat to begin with. he didn't want anything from you, and he didn't care if you never wanted anything from him. as long as you were safe, that was all he cared about. he hoped you were starting to understand that.

though conversations between you were still tense and cryptic, there was a sense of unspoken comradery that felt nostalgic to you both. your serious, brooding angst matched with harry's calm, collected coldness made for an interesting match. it was never the same as before, you were both fairly aware it wasn't ever going to be, but there was an undoubted chemistry that still lingered from your teenage years together.

however, something else that always lingered during your interactions is your distaste for harry's actions. at any chance you can, you poke and prod at his past, partly to understand, he assumes, but also to test his limits. you were always cautious and suspicious of his submissive behavior when it came to this kind of confrontation; how could someone who was, at least at one point, so evil, so cruel and heartless, become so nonchalant about their past? who wipes out entire cities just to 'not dwell on it'?

this was always a point of contention between you, even if everything else until that point had been somewhat playful. it never so much upset harry as it riled you up, bringing strong emotions to the forefront, causing you to lash out at him. though he always stayed calm, he also always seemed to listen. he never disagreed with your feelings or sentiments, if anything he agreed with your hatred for himself. it's like that day in the living room when he tempted you with his death, and yet you never took the bait.

harry rather enjoyed watching you work yourself up, and admired how quick you were to defend yourself. he never wanted to upset you, of course, but sometimes he couldn't help his cheeky responses knowing it would get a look out of you that made his heart jump. it might not be the most gentlemanly thing he does, but something about your anger excited him. it was nothing like his vengeful rage from the past, but it had its own potency that ran a chill down his spine. harry was so used to everyone cowering away from him in fear of his power that he relished your open aggression towards him. it was thrilling, and it was exactly what he needed.

harry tried to remain respectful of his guest, but having such a beautiful mind and body occupy his space with him was hard to ignore sometimes. his eyes would wander, as well as his thoughts, and he had caught himself fantasizing about you a few too many times to admit. you were stunning, of course, you always had been, but there was something about you now that elevated your beauty in harry's eyes. maybe it was the dark, unforgiving coldness of your eyes, or the strong scowl that your expression rested in, or the underlying anger that was ready to bubble over at any point, but harry was completely infatuated with who you had become.

he knew how hypocritical it was for him to admire the parts of you that were forced out in your desperation to survive the decision he made for you all those years ago. though you seldom mentioned your years in azkaban, harry could see and feel the effects it continued to have on you. they weighed on him heavily, and though harry wasn't one to regret what's happened in the past, he wished he could've figured out another way to protect you at the time. a way that didn't dim the light inside of you the way that it has been.

but still, that light was there. when you smiled to yourself at your own quips, when you admired the food jinx prepares you, when you lost yourself in your books, harry could physically feel the light radiating within you. it was familiar, like an old hug from a friend, and was unmistakably beautiful.

sometimes he felt like a teenager again, discovering the parts of you that made him fall in love in the first place. your natural charm, your captivating eyes, the innate draw he felt to you simply by being in your presence. it was unlike anything he's felt for another person, before or since meeting you. but rather than two teenagers flirting over study dates, you were now two closed off adults with a complicated history and 'break up', if you could even call it that. it was nothing like the past, yet it was entirely too similar.

you and harry had been sitting in silence together in the living room, reading your respective books, enjoying each other's company. it was one of harry's favorite things to do with you now, and one of the only ways you two could be together without it ending in tension. neither of you talked, neither of you made noise outside of the occasional chuckle or gasp at your readings; it was a peaceful excuse for harry to be near you, and sometimes admire you from over the pages.

this night, however, you broke the traditional silence by asking harry a question you'd been keeping to yourself. "harry," you started. he loved the sound of his name in your voice, it was invigorating to listen to.

harry turned his head to you, his book still in his lap, noticing you've long since placed yours on the table beside you. "[y/n]," he responded with his typical smirk, returning his eyes to his book.

you cleared your throat a bit, your ankles crossing in front of you. "how often did you think of me," it was more of a statement than a question, your tone not as cold and questioning as it typically was.

harry knew what you meant, of course, and waited a moment before answering you. "i'd never stopped," he said simply. it was true, and it still is.

you turned to look at the fireplace, your knees bouncing out of the corner of harry's eye as he pretends to continue reading. "but you never came back for me," you stated. harry's eyebrows furrowed, glancing at you again before looking away to leave you with your words. "you left me there to die," you said, that familiar coldness returning to your tone.

harry let out a sharp breath. "that was never my intention, and you know that." he says without a reaction. you become visibly irritated, your jaw clenching with your fists. "you never thought about me," you insisted, your words heavy with contempt.

harry shut his book and threw it beside him, leaning towards you. you turned to glare at him, your nostrils flared. "i was lucky to sleep one full night in the last 5 years without a singular dream of you." he tells you, his voice as steady as his eye contact. "you haunt me like a ghost, [y/n]. you always will."

you're looking at him questionably as you stand from your seat across from him, now making your way towards him. "good. i hope you never forget about what you did to me. i won't." you hiss at him, your cheeks turning red. harry's mind races with you towering over him, leaning back in his seat to fully enjoy the view.

"how could i forget about you?" he quips, that same damn smirk making you grit your teeth. you take another, heavier step towards him, your fists trembling at your sides. "stop fucking doing that," you spit threateningly.

harry cocks his head to the side, looking you up and down. he likes seeing you like this, even if it scares him a bit. "what?" he asks, pushing you even further.

you step between his legs and lean into his face, only leaving a few inches between you. "that, you fucking creep. is this funny to you?" your voice is raised now, the anger finally starting to boil over again. "not at all," harry says, still smirking at your reaction.

"then wipe the smirk off your face and stop doing this to me, harry." you instruct him, leaning back to cross your arms in front of you. harry's biting his lip, not able to resist the lustful thoughts he's having of you in this situation. "doing what, exactly?" he asks, curious what you mean.

"this, all of this, harry. you look at me like a starving animal. you watch me around the house like a stalker. you say you think of me all the time and yet you've only so much as touched my chin." you rattle off, clearly frustrated with these thoughts you've kept inside. "you bring me back here and have me live like a princess when there's people outside who live like animals because of you and what you've done," you continue to raise your voice at him, now getting yourself completely worked up.

harry just watches you, like always, not disagreeing with any of your sentiments. as he normally doesn't, he knows you're a smart girl.

"and you're still fucking looking at me like that," you growl, your arm coming across his neck once more, like the first night you were here, holding him against the cushions of the couch.

harry doesn't stop you, as he never does, and instead enjoys the feeling of you kneeling between his legs in an attempt to further choke him. "i swear on my own life i'll still kill you, potter. what the fuck do you want from me?" you interrogate him, your dark eyes searching him for answers.

the smirk on harry's face only grows, causing you to push further into his throat. it's ironic how much he wants from you right now that would only further put his life at risk in your hands.

"i…never wanted…anything…" harry chokes out. he knows he's stronger than you and could easily escape your grasp, but he enjoys the feeling of letting you have control over the moment, and over him.

"that's a fucking lie," you say through gritted teeth, getting nose to nose with harry. "tell me what you want." you insist.

harry's heart is racing, his mind going blank from the lack of oxygen, and an inconvenient erection growing through his trousers. he could tell you so many things he wants, how many nights he's spent imagining you on top of him like this once again. he knows it would only anger you more, and he was almost tempted by that thought alone.

after a few moments of harry struggling to keep his eyes focused on you, you could feel something against your thigh that caught your attention. glancing down, your weight on harry's throat lessened enough for him to breathe slightly. you looked back up at his eyes with a look of confusion and shock before quickly returning to anger.

"seriously? are you fucking turned on right now as i'm threatening your life?" you ask him with disgust, slightly pulling away. harry's cheeks flush as he tries to catch his breath, your arm still resting across this collarbone. he stays quiet, his eyes glancing between you and his lap.

you scoff at him. "you're so pathetic, potter. how you were ever a leader of anything is a mystery to me." you ridicule him, an amused smirk coming across your own face.

your condescending attitude only fuels harry's excitement more, trying not to let his expression expose how much he's enjoying this.

"it's almost like you want me to kill you," your voice is quiet but dangerously cold, giving harry goosebumps as your breath falls across his blushing face. he tries to stop it but his body can't resist a low whine being forced from his throat.

your eyes fall to his lips for just a moment before you lean into them, surprising harry with a hungry kiss as you relax your weight onto his body. more moans escape harry's mouth as you roughly force your tongue past his lips. his hand naturally finds your waist, but you slap it away harshly with your free hand. "no touching." you warn him, your lips brushing against his.

"yes ma'am," harry responds.

you give him a look, your other leg kneeling beside his as you straddle his thigh, your skirt falling perfectly over his knee. "i still hate you," you growl, choking him against the couch once more. "i know," harry says breathlessly, staring at you like a helpless puppy.

forcing him into a suffocating kiss, you eventually let harry breathe as your lips find his neck, your teeth sinking into his skin and hands grasping his shoulders tightly. he groans at the pain, earning a slight roll of your hips on his leg. harry wants nothing more than to touch you right now, guiding your hips into his body, pleasuring you like he's wanted to for so long. but for now, he's just glad you're kissing him, and enjoys the feeling of your breath against his bruised skin.

"shirt off." you command, sitting back to observe the puddle harry's become in your grasp. he wastes no time taking off his sweater, throwing it behind him as your eyes trace over his scarred torso. your cold gaze softens at the sight, your fingers tracing the healed wounds carefully.

for a moment, when you glance at harry through your eyelashes, he feels that same love you shared as kids. the soft, innocent admiration that came with inexperience. for just one moment, nothing was complicated, and there was no history. you were discovering harry all over again, like he had been with you.

the moment didn't last for long as your gaze hardened once more looking at him. you stood from your straddling position, much to his disappointment. he was ready for you to end the moment and leave, but you didn't.

"on your knees." you instructed him. again, harry wasted no time as he sunk to his knees in front of the couch, eye level with the hem of your skirt. he looked up at you eagerly, hardly believing the privilege he had to see you above him like this.

harry's heart was racing as you lifted your skirt to expose your panties to him. his eyes never left yours, his breathing hitching at the beauty just in front of his face. his hands were patiently folded in his lap, aching to grab every part of you.

you slowly lifted one thigh onto harry's shoulder, reaching down to take the glasses off his face for him, setting them to the side. "now," you told him, your voice seductive as you lean your weight into him once more. harry holds his shoulders steady, his mouth close enough to your soaked pantines to nearly taste you already.

"let me ride your face," you coo, your hands finding their way to his cheeks as he continues staring at you with hungry eyes. "it's the least you can do for me," you smirk, your voice still chillingly cold and cryptic.

harry lets out a sigh of relief and desperation, eyes glancing at your panties before returning to your gaze. you slowly push his open mouth onto you, not able to hold back a sound of relief yourself.

harry's eyes flutter shut as your hips roll onto his face, losing himself in your smell and taste. your fingers tangle into his hair to keep him in place, soft, breathy gasps falling from your lips as you watch from above.

after a minute you become too desperate and pull your panties aside, instructing harry to hold them as you force his mouth onto your dripping pussy. harry listens like a good boy and holds the fabric, his hand also taking the chance to grip your inner thigh. a deep moan escapes your throat at the feeling.

harry's tongue quickly works its way across your arousal, enjoying every part of you as he pushes himself further into your pussy. your hands try to pull his hair back to relieve some of the overwhelming feeling, but harry doesn't let you control him for once. he's desperate to please you, his hunger growing the more of you he's allowed to have.

harry's other hand grabs for your skirt to hold it above his head, opening his eyes to meet your gaze. your face is twisted in pleasure, lips bitten, eyes glazed over as you watch harry disappear between your legs.

harry moans at the sight of you, sending shivers across your skin. you moan, biting your lips closed, your hips stuttering against his mouth. "fuck," you mumble, earning another moan from harry as his tongue circles your sensitive clit.

a hand rushed to your mouth as you attempt to hide your filthy noises, the feeling making your eyes roll back. you're trying to mask your pleasure, but harry can see right through you.

you finally successfully pull his mouth off of you, lips swollen and wet as his head rests in your grip. "good," you say breathlessly. your voice falters a bit. you take your thigh off harry's shoulder, again, much to his disappointment.

"sit," you tell him, gesturing to the couch once more. harry complies, returning to his spot on the couch behind him. you reach forward and unbutton his pants, pulling them down a bit with his assistance. you can see his erection through his briefs, causing you to smirk a bit before returning to your neutral expression.

"no touching," you remind harry as you position yourself to straddle his hips, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. harry's sure you can hear his heartbeat racing under your control.

you start grinding your soaking wet panties against harry's clothed cock, your mouth falling open with his at the sensation. the light of the fire behind you leaves harry with the beautiful sight of you glowing in his lap, your warm skin pressed against his as your breathy moans fall into his neck.

harry can hardly take the teasing any longer, his moans becoming needier the harder he gets under you. "fuck, [y/n]," his voice is deep with desire, his head rolling back once your roll your hips into him harshly. you moan at the sound of your own name, your hands returning to his shoulders as your nails dig deep into his skin.

"that's right, say my name," you smirk, grinding into harry at a faster pace. "so pathetic," you remind him.

harry continuously lets your name fall from his lips as you watch him, a helpless, desperate mess beneath you. he loves the feeling of letting you use him any way you want to.

soon you can't wait much longer, and you pull out harry's cock from his briefs. the feeling of your hand grasping his shift makes harry's hips buck up involuntarily, silently asking for more.

you can't help but chuckle at just how eager he is. you're more than enjoying the control and effect you have over him.

"now," you say again, causing harry to look back at you with needy eyes. "you're gonna let me use you until i cum," you tell him, teasing yourself with the feeling of him against your wet pussy. harry's eyes nearly roll back again as he nods for you, his lips parted with uneven breaths.

you slide harry inside of you, adjusting to the feeling as harry's head falls back once again in pleasure. "so fucking wet," harry sighs softly, nearly whining. once your hips lower completely onto his length, you start to ride harry slowly, still adjusting to him. he's a full blown whining mess beneath you, his chest flushed and heaving as your pussy tightens around him.

you take in the sight of him, your eyes exploring every sweaty part of his body as you continue riding at a slow pace. you unwrap your arms from his shoulders, leaning back into your hips. "take my shirt off," you tell harry.

his eyes open again, looking at you eagerly. his hands nervously begin lifting your shirt, holding the fabric carefully between his fingers, and savors the sight and feeling of pulling it off of you, his eyes glancing at your chest before locking with yours again.

"so beautiful," he tells you, your skin looking deliciously soft in the warm lowlight. "i know, now be quiet," you shut him up, picking up the pace of your hips.

harry's eyes narrow at you, the intoxicating feeling of you wrapped around his cock only making him hungrier for your pleasure. the sight of you bouncing in his lap, your breasts just in front of his face as you lean your hands next to his head on the back of the couch.

"open," you tell harry.

he doesn't have to be told twice before his lips part, his tongue eagerly waiting for you. you guide your nipple into his mouth, your hips rolling onto harry's cock in circles. his teeth and tongue tease the sensitive skin, your pussy gripping harry even more and earning a low growl from his chest. his hands remained at his sides, but he wanted nothing more than to feel you everywhere on top of him.

you start riding harry once more, his teeth still gripping your nipple making you whine at the feeling. "fuck," you let the word slip out, your own teeth sinking into your bottom lip. harry's more than aroused at your reaction to him, his cock aching inside of you to release.

you pull harry's head back by his hair, forcing him to look up at you. you reach for his glasses that you sat down earlier, returning them to his face delicately. harry appreciates the gesture and can better see the pleasure in your eyes, a soft smile falling across his lips.

"so pretty," he whispers. he can see the blush you try to hide, looking away from his eyes and down at your hips.

you start groaning in frustration, your grip on his hair tightening, causing harry to wince. "you're gonna make me cum," you tell him through broken moans, your thrusts becoming uneven. harry can feel you tightening around him again. he groans at the feeling, your name slipping from his mouth again and again. this only makes you fall apart more, high pitched whimpers coming from you as you chase your high.

you soon sink into harry's neck, your cries of pain and pleasure falling across his skin as your legs start to shake. you can't even form words as your body feels the waves of intense pleasure from each thrust onto harry's cock. your hands move to his shoulders again, holding onto him for stability as you continue to ride out your climax.

harry grows impatient at the feeling of your orgasm and watching you break down into him. he finally grabs for you, moving your hips to the couch beside him, staying inside you while you gasp at his movement. he kicks off his pants and adjusts himself between your legs.

"harry," you try to protest, your voice weak and shaky. "just let me do this, darling," he growls, his hips becoming flush against yours as he pushes his cock completely inside of you. you let out a gasp, your hand slapping over your lips once more.

harry hungrily digs his cock deeper inside of you with each slow thrust, his hands holding himself up above you as he watches his cock easily slide in and out of your soaking wet pussy. he folds your legs back as he sinks even deeper into you.

"holy fuck," he groans, his breathing heavy, hands gripping the back of your thighs to keep himself steady. "so beautiful, [y/n]," harry tells you again, his droopy eyes focused on your face twisted in pleasure.

you look at him, your eyes full of lust, but still cold as ice. "i…hate you," you remind him through strained breaths, struggling to take his entire length, still glaring at him.

this pushes harry over the edge, his hips quickening until he feels himself start to unravel. he pulls out of your warm pussy and cums on your stomach, groaning at the sight of you below him.

you gasp at the feeling, looking at harry with shock. "did you just cum from me saying i hate you?" you ask, your tone mocking his desperation. harry nods, still stroking his cock slowly, his other hand remaining on your thigh as his moans quiet down.

"you're disgusting," you tell him coldly, but harry can see the smirk on your face and the lust in your eyes. he watches you below him, smirking in return.

"and you love it."

[whorediaries-09]

abditory;

"forgive us now for what we've done"

☆ EVENTS ☆

'tis the damn season (closed)

you can meet me at the hotel; (closed) [kinkotober masterlist]

put your life out on the line" (closed)

got the wine for you; (closed) [false god (masterlist)]

maybe it's a blessing in disguise; (closed)

music got you lost; (open) [masterlist]

✧ ONE-SHOTS ✧

Peppers Sirius Black X Reader. Fuck buddies to lovers. Modern AU!. 18+ content

Delicate Sirius Black X Reader. Friends to lovers. TW- Self harm, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff.

Night We Met Sirius Black X Reader Set During Order of The Phoenix. Mention of major character death(s).

New Year's Day Sirius Black X Reader Set during Order of The Phoenix. Fluff and low humor.

Cardigan; Sirius Black X Reader. Hurt/Comfort.

Sure Thing; Sirius Black X Shy!Reader Fluff.

Oh Children; Sirius Black X Reader Angst.

Million Dollar Man; Sirius Black x Camgirl!reader 18+ content, drinking.

Daylight Flowerist!Sirius Black X Barista!reader Fluff.

Consume; Dark!Sirius Black X Muggle!reader. 18+ content, cemeteries, dark themes.

Born to die Cult!leader Sirius Black X Reader. Mentions of murder, gore, dark themes.

Afterglow; Felix Catton x Reader Hurt/Comfort.

Dancing with our hands tied; Sirius Black X Reader. Hurt/Comfort, injuries, blood. (potential part two)

Maneater; Neighbor!James Potter X Reader 18+ content, stalker behavior, darkish themes.

She just hit my heart; James Potter X Reader Fluff.

Don't blame me; Priest!Remus Lupin X Reader Alludes to sex, dark themes.

Pick your poison, babe; Sirius Black X Reader Suggestive Content, fluff.

Try me; Ravi Singh X Reader Cigarettes, hurt/comfort.

ψ SERIES ψ

The Seven Lives; Please read chapter warnings on top of each chapter. Status- On going (PAUSED)

No Time To Die (Status - Completed)

The hurricane with my name on it. Please read chapter warnings on top of each chapter.

Love to think you'll never forget. Please read chapter warnings on top of each chapter.

⨴MOODBOARDS⨵

Poison Ivy From my fall event (close)

Heartbeat; From 'the seven lives' series.

§ ASKED AND ANSWERED §

Call It What You Want Sirius Black X Reader. Post Azkaban Sirius. Hurt/Comfort. Fluff. Touch sensitivity.

Indentation in the shape of you Sirius Black X Reader. Post Azkaban Sirius. Fluff, bad humor.

Now I'm Covered in You Sirius Black X Reader. Post Azkaban Sirius. 18+ Content. From my fall event (close)

Trying To Keep The Water Warm James Potter X Reader. Professor James AU! Fluff. From my fall event (close)

Dark Red James Potter X Reader Set during the Marauders era. 18+ content.

Womanizer Sirius Black x Reader Set During the Marauders era. Angst, 18+ content, drinking, hints at sexual assault.

Meddle About; West Coast; FDad!James Potter X Reader. 18+ content, mentions of alcohol, age gap.

Maroon Sirius Black X Reader ex to lovers, drinking, alludes to sexual assault, hurt/comfort.

The great war; Sirius Black X Reader ex to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort. Part two to Maroon.

Do I wanna know? Rockstar!Sirius Black X Reader. 18+ content.

Dusk till dawn Sirius Black X Lestrange!Reader Hurt/Comfort, dialogue heavy.

Smoke on my clothes; Rockstar!Sirius Black X Popstar!Reader Fluff, 18+ content, use of y/n.

Into You; Ron Weasley X Reader 18+ content, porn without plot.

Wherever I go; Remus Lupin X Reader. Making out, suggestive, fluff.

Blue Jeans; Professor!Harry Potter X Reader 18+ content.

Getaway car; Sirius Black X Desi!Reader 18+ content, sexual tension, substances.

I think he knows; Ron Weasley X Reader 18+ content, mentions of war, fluff.

Gorgeous; James Potter X Reader 18+ content.

House of balloons/glass table girls; Sirius Black X Reader 18+ content.

You're in love Policeman!James Potter X Baker!Reader Fluff.

Can't you see, you're meant for me? Bsf!Dad!James Potter X Reader Suggestive content, fluff.

I'm gonna make you my wife; Sirius Black X Reader Banter, fluff, silly teenagers in love, kinda shy reader, alcohol, 18+ content.

This place will burn you up; Sirius Black X Reader 18+ content.

❁ ODE TO FANFICTION ❁

Hall of morals;

I'm running back home to you;

[ravenelyx]

I love you in every timeline - Prologue: In Search of Lost Time

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Fem!Reader

Words: 1.9k

Chapter Warnings: angst if you squint, Harry Potter characters appearance, no name appearance (not even y/n dw), some swearing, use of 2nd person for the reader (I know I know but I promise it makes sense for the story)

Summary: "He turned around, and the world seemed to stop around him. She had followed him: into another timeline, into another universe.". In which Sebastian, in his search for a cure in the Dark Arts, finds himself 100 years into the future and meets his most trusted companion's descendant (who looks far too similar to the girl he was once secretly in love with).

A/N: this is the first english fic I've written, so I'm terrified. Anyway, Trimetravel! AU with Sebastian Sallow. Some background info: Reader is not MC; Reader is a Gryffindor, MC was a Slytherin; MC was a Pureblood, Reader is a Muggle Born. Also, english is not my first language so if you find any mistakes, I deeply apologise. Not proof-read (for obvious reasons).

→ Find the rest of the fanfiction here on AO3 :)

"For we are not as faithful to the being we have most loved as we are to ourselves and sooner or later we forget her — since that is one of our characteristics — so as to start loving another." - Marcel Proust, In Search of Lost Time

If a chasm had opened under Sebastian's feet and swallowed him all the way to the depths of hell, he would have gladly accepted his demise there and then.

Unfortunately, its mercy seemed to be out of business that day — or any other day in his life, really.

Sebastian paced the corridors, a frown adorning his face; he had just come out of the Headmaster's office due to the absolute disaster that had occurred to him just a few hours prior.

After weeks of research, he had finally found something that could help him, a breakthrough with which he could finally achieve his goal. An artefact so powerful that it could break the fabric of time and space, something that could help his poor sister live a happy and healthy life again. He did not care that they were not on speaking terms at the moment: he would find a way to talk to her so that she would take this last chance. He would force her if he had to. It was his last hope, and Merlin knows he had tried everything.

If he had known about the artefact's effects earlier, he would have thought twice before using it.

"So, Mr Sallow, could you be so kind as to tell us how you came to be in our time?" the Headmaster, who had earlier introduced himself as Albus Dumbledore, had asked him.

Truth was that not having stopped dwelling with the Dark Arts in search of a cure for Anne had led him to find himself in another timeline instead. His face twitched: in terms of unlikelihood, the scales seemed pretty unbalanced.

It had been a brief conversation, really, with Sebastian omitting some details (like his friendship with an Ancient Magic wielder or the murder of his uncle, for which he bore full responsibility) and grimacing against his own will when the Headmaster had looked at him through his half-moon shaped glasses as if asking him, 'Why are you lying to me?'

He had pushed the thoughts away as quickly as they had come: it wasn't like he could read his mind... or could he?

Sebastian breathed a sigh of relief when the Headmaster had dismissed him after giving him specific instructions on how to behave until they found a way to return him to his timeline — one of which was, "Please don't inform anyone of your condition unless it's absolutely necessary." That had seemed quite reasonable to him, so he nodded.

The artefact was damaged, as expected, and unlikely to work again unless a powerful form of magic came into contact with it and repaired it: something like Ancient Magic, perhaps, or a miracle.

"I see you're still causing trouble everywhere you fare, aren't you, Mr Sallow?" the familiar voice of Phineas Nigellus Black had mocked from his portrait, effectively startling him. Sebastian had looked up and into the eyes of his old Headmaster, his mouth falling open at the sight of him. He looked old, weary, and angrier somehow — yet, in a way, he had brought Sebastian some form of comfort, almost. A sense of familiarity.

Before he could have said anything, Black had disappeared, and a woman with severe blue eyes and long robes had escorted him out of the office.

-

Sebastian looked around at his familiar surroundings, which would have been almost comforting if not for the nameless faces looking at him with curiosity: Hogwarts students tended to recognise each other effortlessly, and anyone who didn't fit into that bundle of familiarity was to be ostracised. He remembered all too well when he was the one helping the new fifth-year find her way around those same corridors, except he didn't need guidance: this was his home, after all.

But he did have a guide, and she wasn't as charming a student as he was either.

The Head of the Gryffindor House walked right next to him, a stern expression on her face made even more prominent by the shadow of her large witch hat. The woman Sebastian had come to know as Minerva McGonagall was also the Transfiguration teacher and Deputy Headmistress, at least it seemed that way, which was no doubt why she was accompanying him rather than the Head of his own House.

Sebastian decided not to ask himself any questions and do what the Headmaster told him to: attend class, fit in, and pretend to be either a transfer student or someone with a complex background — he hadn't decided which story to tell yet (and both, in a way or another, would be true).

The clacking of Professor McGonagall's shoes stopped so abruptly that he almost would have missed it if she hadn't started speaking.

"You're about to meet two of your new classmates. Prefects of the Gryffindor House." She raised her left arm in their direction, and his eyes followed it to two red and gold robes leading into warm faces.

"I am pleased to introduce you to Ms Hermione Granger—" she gestured to the girl with curly hair to her left, who wore a friendly smile all while maintaining a serious and clean look, "—and Mr Ronald Weasley." Sebastian's eyes shot to the boy to his right when he heard the familiar name, and to be honest, he might not have needed an introduction at all: the red-haired boy gave him a wry smile, his freckles standing out even more in the natural light. He would have recognised those features anywhere.

Finally, Sebastian noticed their uniforms. He didn't pay much attention to the boy's — he himself also wore a very similar one, uncomfortable and informal as it seemed to him — for his eyes were fixed on the girl's. She was wearing a grey cardigan with red and gold trim, the colours of her House, and her skirt was much shorter than he remembered, with black denier tights covering the rest of her legs. Sebastian felt himself blushing slightly and averted his eyes.

He wondered why the Slytherin prefects were unsuited to the situation: at the end of the day, he was a Slytherin, too. Sebastian didn't undergo the Sorting again — the Professors didn't seem to deem it necessary, not to mention the Hat had recognised him from his shelf, too. He didn’t forget easily.

McGonagall turned back to Sebastian and briefly adjusted his robes, her face softening slightly, "For the time being, it is best if you don't draw attention to yourself. We will find a solution," she straightened her posture and nodded at him, "Welcome to Hogwarts." She turned on her heels and walked away, leaving him with the two Gryffindors.

He studied their faces for a moment, searching for the right words to say, deciding on which story to tell, but the only thing he could muster was: "How come you're Gryffindors?"

The two students stared at him, appalled, and he mentally slapped himself. He wanted to correct his statement and explain his intention, but the girl stopped him before he could even form a coherent thought.

"You're wondering why they asked us to guide you and not the Slytherin Prefects, am I right?"

Either his question wasn't that unclear, or the girl had excellent deduction skills, and judging by the epiphany on the other boy's face when he understood the meaning of her words, it was most likely the latter.

Sebastian sighed inwardly and nodded, mentally promising not to stumble over his words again.

The boy — Ronald, Sebastian recalled — chimed in: "Because otherwise you'd have to deal with Malfoy, and he's an idio—" the girl slapped him on the arm and gave him a warning look before turning back to Sebastian.

Malfoy, Sebastian thought. A family of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. It was clear why a Weasley would want nothing to do with him.

Sebastian wondered if they still held the same values as in his day: if the Malfoys were still blood maniacs, and so was the person they spoke of, or if he wanted to distance himself from his family as Ominis did. Judging by Ronald's opinion of him, Sebastian did not think that was possible, but then again, he did not know the fellow. Maybe, Sebastian thought, things had moved on after a century: no blood wars, discrimination or superiority complexes. Perhaps this was all just a simple rivalry between two students from different Houses.

"Professor Dumbledore thought us to be best suited for this difficult situation. No other student but us knows about your... misadventure," said Hermione.

To call it a "misadventure" would be an understatement , Sebastian wanted to say. As it turned out, however, he didn't need a story to tell. He didn't know whether to feel betrayed by the Professors who had decided to disclose that information or relieved that he didn't have to go through it all alone. A beat of silence followed, in which Sebastian could only nod at the girl's words, and then it was interrupted abruptly.

"Where have you been?" called a voice from the end of the corridor, directly behind Sebastian.

He turned around, and the world seemed to stop around him.

He definitely didn't have to go through it all alone because there she was. Standing a few feet away from him, looking straight at him, was the person who had accompanied him on all his adventures.

She had followed him: into another timeline, into another universe.

He felt his lips twist into a grin, and he beamed at the sight of her. Had she been looking for him?

He frowned a little as he noticed her expression: she seemed annoyed, almost angry. Perhaps she had no intention of following him and had just ended up here for no reason? Were the two of them connected on a deeper level than he thought? Or perhaps she was just worried for him and angry he didn't look for her too?

The girl started to walk towards them, and his smile widened even more the closer she got.

She was almost there when he realised she wasn't sparing him a glance.

Instead, her eyes were focused on the red-haired boy next to him, who was staring at her in horror, looking completely terrified.

Sebastian looked back at the girl, finally noticing the red and gold tie around her neck where a green and silver one usually belonged, a crease in her eyebrows that wasn't there before, and her eyes were a different colour than he remembered.

What the hell is going on here?  he thought, staring at her wide-eyed.

"Ron, for God's sake, I've been looking all over for you! Do you intend to give me back my book before class starts, or should I pull a new one out of a hat because you can't use your own?" she threw her hands in the air disapprovingly.

Ron stuttered briefly before hesitantly pointing at the Slytherin boy next to him, "I've just had too much to do. Prefect stuff, you know."

The girl scowled at him before turning to the said boy, her eyes softening slightly. "Oh! You're the new fifth-year!"

Sebastian's eye twitched. How bloody ironic.

"I'm Sebastian Sallow," he replied feebly, body stock-still like marble.

"Nice to meet you," she smiled politely.

And then she introduced herself.

His breath caught in his throat. Sebastian could have recognised that surname anywhere, but her name fell completely deaf on his ears.

You weren't her.

--

→ Chapter 1

[danpuff-ao3]

Snarry-a-Thon 2024

Another year of Snarry-a-Thon has just wrapped up! What a fun season this has been. There was a lot to love, but as usual, I've narrowed it down to my Top 5 favorites! But first…

Disclaimer: my rec lists are created based on my personal experiences and preferences. There are plenty of other stories and authors who are quite good and deserve just as much love. This is not meant to be an objective “best of the best” list, but the subjective opinion of a longtime reader and fangirl.

Cat-astrophe

by blackwhitelight (@loneamaryllis). Rated: E. Words: 13,972. Fluff & humor. Cat!Harry. Cat!Severus. Idiots in love.

"It's a door," Harry said. "I killed Voldemort. I can manage a door." "Can you?" Snape said, with such smugness it was dripping off his whiskers. Or the adventures of Harry and Snape as cats after an unfortunate potion accident.

Turning Back Time

by cruisedirector, Dementordelta. Rated: T. Words: 8,455. Time travel. Domestic. Established relationship.

Harry and Snape are equally sure about who made the first move. They just disagree about which of them it was.

Symmetry and Murder

by salizarinadress. Rated: T. Words: 21,795. Murder Mystery. Severus has OCD. Trust issues. POV Severus.

Severus has been going steady with Potter for six months now, taking what pleasure he can from what is clearly a sting operation to uncover his non-existent illegal brewing enterprise. Then Harry confesses his love. He insists that he really did retire as an auror, and that he thought they were dating for real this whole time, and he's willing to go public to prove it. He organises a last-minute Murder Mystery night and invites Severus as his official date. Hijinks ensue.

The Bubbling Brew

by Trueliarose (@trueliarose). Rated: T. Words: 35,540. Coffee Shop AU. Muggle AU. Fluff. Idiots in love. Mutual pining.

Harry works at a café. Everyone warns him about the grumpy regular who always occupies the table in the far corner. Except, Harry doesn't know what everyone is on about; he likes the sarcastic man.

He Who Lives More Lives Than One

by Writcraft (@writcraft). Rated: E. Words: 24,041. Curses. Hurt/comfort. Falling in love. Vampire Harry. Immortal Severus.

Harry is in trouble again. When immortality is forced upon him, there is only one person who can help. Severus Snape, the wizard who refuses to die.

Bonus: Art Rec

A Hissy Fit

by sillybeans (@sillylittlebeans). Rated: G. Comic. Cat!Harry. Cat!Snape.

Crookshanks sneezes.

[loneamaryllis]

Snarriet rec list - Medium fics (30k to 100k)

A Family of her Own

by tully. Rated E. 53k. Pining, Floor Sex, Pregnancy.

Harrie Potter has never had a family, not really. Now that she is adult and independent, she wishes to change that.

Why I rec it: Tully always write such a hot, intense Snape. Here Harrie wants to get pregnant and settles on Snape as the father. Featuring Portrait Phineas Black who is the biggest Snarriet shipper and a devious schemer.

Dig Up the Dandelions

by ImSoREY. Rated E. 49k, WIP. (Underage) Soulmate Bond, Slow Burn, Mad Snape.

Soulmate was a cheap word for a curse that could drive a man mad with a single touch. It was a cheap word for something that could ruin so many lives. — Rowan Potter is Severus Snape’s soulmate. In many ways, nothing is different. In others, everything is changed.

Why I rec it: The concept is so great! The soulmate bond drives Snape mad and makes him behave in completely unpredictable ways... You're not ready for what he does to Umbridge.

Cursum Perficio

by @silraen. Rated M. 72k. Slow Burn, Banter, Protective Snape.

Severus Snape, the man who was partly responsible for the Potters’ murder, finds himself the unlikely protector of their daughter, Harriet. This story shows how he finds his redemption by aiding her, and in so doing, unwittingly wins her affection, and eventually, her love.

Why I rec it: A fic going through all seven years of Harriet at Hogwarts. It does a really good job at building the relationship. Plus there's gorgeous art made especially for the fic!

Succor

by pluperfectsunrise. Rated E. 40k. Soulmates. Bisexual Harry. Protective Snape.

Five times Severus Snape comforted Harry Potter, and one time Harry comforted him.

Why I rec it: Technically a 5+1 fic, starting in Harry's first year and ending after the war, showing little glimpses of her life and her relationship with Snape as it evolves. It's one of my comfort fics, so very nice to come back to.

Teaching Miss Potter

by gamma_orionis. Rated E. 46k, WIP. (Underage). Porn with Plot. Dom Severus Snape. Dirty Talk.

Another Occlumency lesson gone horribly wrong.

Snape delves into Harrie's mind and discovers something completely unexpected. He makes her an offer that flips Harrie's world upside down.

Why I rec it: Snape and Harrie entering into a BDSM relationship, hot smut, Snape being deliciously dominant while Harrie discovers what she likes...

Crimson Clovers

by @spicedlantern. Rated M. 60k. Mutual Pining, Mystery, Horror Vibes.

In which Harriet Potter has a kidnapped aunt, is stalked, pines, gets a cold, and proves that Severus Snape does not, in fact, know everything - not necessarily in that order.

Why I rec it: The first fic I read from spicedlantern, and I immediately knew I'd like everything else she'd write. She's a master at writing tense scenes, her Snape is so multi-layered and so protective of Harriet, and her villains are pitch perfect.

The Perdition of his Redemption

by @hirukochan. Rated E. 46k. (Underage) Muggle AU. Snape is Harrie's godfather. Gun Kink.

They know it is wrong. They know neither one of them should feel the way they do but how does one stop feeling?

Harrie discovers the dark truth about her godfather's past, will this finally be the thing that stops the harrowing crush she has developed and that keeps her awake at night? Or will it only get worse? After all - good girls like bad boys, and what is worse than having been the right hand of the leader of the most notorious international organisation of criminals?

Why I rec it: Hot, lethal Snape wielding a gun and being so very protective of Harrie... while being attracted to her and being tormented because he knows it's wrong. And Harrie teases him and makes it clear she wants him too!

Harrie's Cat

by @loneamaryllis. Rated E. 49k. Cat Animagus Severus Snape. Denial of Feelings. Fluff.

The fic where Harrie puts a collar on Snape and calls him hers.

Why I rec it: A self-rec! Snape being Harrie's cat while she's mourning him after the Battle of Hogwarts. Add some Aurors who come sniffing for a pinch of danger, my OC Mathilda for some fluffy shenanigans, and Harrie calling the cat Prince, of course.

[rxsilabeth--er]

OKAY LETS GOOO

could i get a regulus black and male reader, modern au or just a muggle au? (up to you tbh) where the reader is ghostface and regulus finds out. i would like to ask of it being suggestive or to where you limit your nsfw requests, but if you're not up for it you could change it up to however you feel fit! (..i may send more regulus requests because i'm severely deprived-)

:: Oh please be with me tonight, Mr.Ghostface!!

Now calling......author: "Hello? Yes, this was a bit hard to write, I will admit cause I'm not sure about Ghostface....But I love my Reggie and he deserves love..."

Now calling......synopsis: "...Through the night, Regulus finds himself running through the forest followed keenly by a certain someone he knows...and when he's caught...may god help him..."

Now calling......warnings: "Stalking, blood, murder, running through forest, Male!Reader, sexual content (not smut), ghostface, Reg has a mask kink? Don't know, degradation...Anyways, tell me if there is something I didn't add...Modern!AU. Trans!Regulus.. This is so shitty.."

Paying for it, she quickly pulled a newspaper, reading the top news, "...Wow, second murder in the city..No wonder they're sending us home early..." Dorcas said reading the newest case, sighing as she walked beside Regulus who nodded with her. Barty, Evan & Pandora's houses were on the opposite side, thank god Dorcas's house came in the same direction as his..It was getting dark..

As he and Dorcas parted ways and he reached home, he removed his shoes and began taking off his tie as he sat on his bed, sighing. Changing into his home clothes, he looked at his phone, a message from Barty:

"Hey Reggie, do you mind coming home to tutor me for a while? Dad approved of you, ma is out of town?? :>"

Regulus contemplated a while since it was nearly dark outside and the city wasn't really the safest after dark and Barty lived on the near outskirts of the city, which is more often than not goes through a bit of a forestry area...But he couldn't really refuse if Barty needed help. Sighing he figured he'll bring some shit to protect himself, he isn't an idiot..

Sighing, he texted Sirius,

"i'm going out, don't make dinner." and texted Barty as well,

"Alright. I'm staying over though cause it's fucking dangerous outside."

Before he simply walked out of his house, putting on some sport shoes, a taser in his pocket, softly fiddling with his keys softly. Walking, it started out normal, the sunset was actually rather pretty with it's splashes of pink, orange and blue, it made him feel happy, but he hurried his steps through the sidewalk. Greeting the florist lady, from whom he regularly took flowers for his friend group, with a sweet smile and a nod...

Walking with his hands in his pockets, he held the taser tightly as it began to get darker with the orange and pink turning into a dark blue and black..the further he walked, the more deserted it got, until Regulus was walking with his keys in one hand and the taser in there, alert at even the most minor sound.

The looming sound of the night is never something that doesn't scare a person. It's not the darkness that scars the person, it's what insides that scares you, but Regulus won't be one to say he's brave enough, cause he's truly not... Walking softly on the highway, pulling up the hood of his hoodie, as he walked. The bridge wasn't too far away, just crossing that and a bit more walking before reaching Barty's house.

a strange aura filled the highway, something looming over, his gut telling him to turn over and run, yet his brain tried to stay rational and stay calm, he had his taser and it would be easier to reach Barty's home than turn over...God, why was Barty's house to far away? It's not his fault though...

Walking as he walked down the road to the bridge, it was totally pitch black in the sky, the weird feeling not going away and only getting stronger, his breath becoming heavier for no absolute reason, the bridge and the area reeking of danger and desperation...

Softly walking, his steps fast yet he was making sure his steps didn't make much noise, no idea why, his gut told him to do so..walking closer to the road under the bridge, he heard pants, and the sounds of deep breaths and metal rubbing against stone along with the smell of wet metal...Getting closer and closer, he had no idea why his body refused to obey him now, he was gonna get killed! He leaned over softly and his stomach twisted into knots..

shit...

Blood everywhere with a body laying there, a black figure over it with a ghost face mask holding a hammer dripping with blood..Shitshitshit..Talking a few steps back, Regulus tried to make sure he wasn't breathing as if his single breath could get him killed tonight...

Just as he turned, his hand slipped as his taser fell with a cling on the floor

..fuck.

Regulus didn't even realize how he legs carried him down the road down to the edge of the forest, running as fast as his body and legs would allow him, but the sight of the figure following him was enough to tear him up from the inside as he ran through the forest, not knowing where he was headed...sounds of the dried leaves crunching underneath his feet as he ran with a towering figure's shadow covering him as he ran with the person behind him..

How long had he been running for? It did not matter as his legs started to cramp up, but he couldn't possibly stop now..No...He continued to use his hurting, tired legs to run until finally his heart twisted...Dead end.

Looking for anything as he reached the wall of another high-way bridge, he had no where to run as his vision was covered with shadow of black and red as the figure stepped closer and closer, a laugh spilling from the person's mouth... Regulus had no where of going...

The figure walked closer, inches apart, they banged the hammer beside Regulus's head, a hand snaking to wrap around his throat, pressing down softly, making Regulus's breath hitch as he lost his breath,

"Oh, sweetheart, sorry you had to see that.." a voice said, deep and clear, said clicking his tongue, making Regulus look down. the hand wrapped tightly around his throat, pressing down more making Regulus look up as both his hands wrapped around the person's wrist, blood has started to stain down his throat and cheeks from the blood of the person's earlier victim...

shit..

There was something messed up about himself.. Regulus felt, his cheeks warming up as the man wrapped his hand around Regulus's throat...

"Now why don't you try to forget what happened back there? Hm...?" the man asked, leaning close making Regulus's breath hitch, was it excitement, nervousness, fear, arousal, or something in between?! He could not tell!

Why was this happening?!

The man applied more pressure on Regulus's throat, his knees becoming weak and were about to buckle beneath him and give out, arousal had begun pooling in his stomach or was it his clit...? He couldn't tell, why was this turning him on!? This shouldn't turn him on! The man dropped the hammer, the pressure on the throat not allowing him to breath softly loosened as the man's voice came out in a mocking laugh,

"Regulus?...Regulus Black?! From school?" the man said with a mocking laugh making Regulus whip up, as he tried to struggle out, which only resulted in him being pushed against the wall more with the man's body pressing against his, their knee in between his thighs, brushing softly...fuck

The man angrily wrestled him to the ground, trapping his arms in their own muscular arm, before the man tied them behind his back with their belt, now completely forcing him down as the man clicked his tongue,

"You're fucking lucky I know you so well...You won't be recognizable and they wouldn't even find half your body...You're truly lucky, sweetheart." the man said again wrapping his hand around his throat, turning him on his back,

"Now, struggle again and you won't move a muscle again." the man said threatening, tightening his grip around his throat...Regulus could not understand who this man was, he understood they went to school together, but who was it..?

Regulus's mind wasn't working, all he knew was this guy was pinning him on the ground, his arms were tied behind his back, this guy was probably gonna kill him, this man had a hand wrapped around his throat, this guy had his knee in between his thighs pressing against his clit and Regulus was getting wet...

This was messed up...fuck...Not only that, Regulus could tell this guy knew what he was feeling on his thigh which was pressing against his cunt.

Embarrassment pooled in his stomach, clouding his mind as he squeezed his eyes shut... As if reading Regulus's mind the man laughed softly, the hand wrapped around his throat loosened as it snaked up to his jaw and his cheek, cupping his face roughly.

"Open your eyes." the man ordered, refusing to obey this or open his eyes due to the major embarrassment Regulus felt, the man squeezed his cheeks more roughly,

"I said open your eyes or your pretty skin will be stained with blood not that idiots but your own now." The man whispered calmly but the words were alarming, making Regulus open his eyes softly to stare at the Ghost face mask above him, the man sighed softly,

"Aren't you fucked up? Is this how you feel when someone holds your life above your head, you whore yourself out, Regulus?" The man said chuckling, his other hand rubbing up and down his side,

"Aren't you from a esteemed family, from a rich and respectable family? And you're here being a cheap whore to someone who might just take your life in a matter of seconds?" the man asked with a mocking laugh, his hand going back from his cheek to his throat,

"I can feel your cunt on my thigh, you're getting wet, aren't you?..Tch" the man simply clicked his tongue, "Keep this in your mind, Black. If my name gets out about being a murderer, your body won't ever be found if it's the last thing I do." he whispered before taking off his mask to reveal..You.

YOU?! You, the great, respectable, sweetheart, chaotic person he liked from high-school but never had the courage to talk to?! You, you kill people?...That's so fucked up...yet why was it turning him on more when you glared down at him...

He felt himself throbbing now..this was not good...

"oh, getting excited, are we? Tch...stupid slut." you said clicking your tongue as you leaned down, cupping his cheek while the other hand rubbed his side softly, as your hand cupped his cheek roughly, softly painting his cheek with red..

Oh how good it looked against his pale skin, you just wanted to bruise him and see how pretty he'd look... You sighed, pulling him up to peck his lips softly,

"..Fuck, pretty boy...guess you're gonna be a bit late to where you headed this late..Huh?"

© This writing work belongs to me, rxsilabeth--er, Aurelia, Rosilabeth, Cerine. Reblogging is appreciated, but plagiarizing or copying my works is forbidden, thank you for reading this and if you like this check out my blog!

[possessingtheproperspirit]

Chapter 4

It's time for James and Lily to have a talk.

Read on AO3 -- FFN.

Read from the beginning.

[wild-flowerhoney]

death eaters what we do in the shadows au (which is just. a documentary au if we want to be picky ig)

evan: the dark lord wants to conquer the world, which sounds like a good idea at first.

regulus: but after the first week you just start thinking "why am i doing this?" and there's no good answer really.

barty: yeah, it gets boring FAST.

regulus: of course it's a trap! why would the dark lord want to go on a stroll through muggle london?!

evan: to see how much of it we've conquered! and when he finds out that it's just grimmauld place he's going to kill us!

barty: well if you think he's gonna "QUACK" us then maybe we should "QUACK" him first.

regulus: you want us to "quack" him?

barty: if you think he's gonna do it first then yes!

evan: let's not discuss this any further, someone could hear us.

regulus: also, can he even die?

bellatrix: i heard them plotting to murder you, my lord.

barty: she speaks the bullshit!

regulus: we simply floated the idea, my lord.

bellatrix: you didn't float it, you plotted it!

evan: plotting and floating are very similar, to be fair.

*door slams open, all three scream*

peter: oh- i didn't-

barty: are you happy now, pettigrew? you just scared the shit out of all three of us.

regulus: so you don't knock anymore? hmm? is this the new you?

evan: this fucking guy-

[lucaswarmhotchocolate]

au where the dursleys actually decline to let harry go to Hogwarts instead of just running away from the letters, and so harry goes to a shitty public school in the muggle world, blissfully unaware of the wizarding world. he lives his life, makes friends with an odd girl named Hermione who lives nearby, falls into his role as the troublemaker at school, and just overall lives a (relatively) normal life (for a victim of abuse and neglect anyway). until one day when he's fourteen he's kidnapped by wormfail and is forced to aid in the resurrection of voldemort as usual except when voldemort realizes that harry literally has no idea what the wizarding world is he pulls some strings to have harry sent to hogwarts. his excuse is that he doesn't want to make the mistake of attempting to murder a defenseless kid again - he'll only kill harry in a duel and in order for it to be fair the boy has to go to a real wizarding school. anyways you know me by the end of it voldemort and harry smooch and fall in love

[happyhauntt]

a writer & his muse — sirius black

writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: renowned mystery writer sirius black has a new muse, and it just so happens to be the homicide detective who hates him. (castle!au)

─── pairing: mystery writer!sirius black x detective!reader.

─── warnings: fluffy banter, mild threats of violence, sirius is a little bastard and knows it, honestly just a fun time. muggle au.

─── word count: 1k.

You're not entirely sure what you did to deserve this sort of punishment.

The station is pretty quiet when you arrive, as it usually is this early in the morning. A sigh of relief escapes you as you arrive at your desk, dropping your bag at the foot of your chair, and you realise that aforementioned punishment — the newest irritation in your life — has yet to arrive.

You’d really love to know what you did to deserve this. Whether you accidentally pissed off some ancient deity, or cut in line at the supermarket so your cosmic karma is unbalanced, or perhaps your boss just really hates you, even though he invited you to his birthday barbecue a few months ago and had called you, endearingly, the 'best detective he'd ever trained.'

You hadn't thought he could be harbouring a secret grudge against you, but really, what other reason could there be for this kind of punishment?

And it is a punishment. Of that, you have no doubt. It is a tooth-grinding, migraine-inducing kind of punishment, and if you weren't acutely aware of the consequences, you might have tried to murder him by now.

Him being, of course, the world-famous mystery writer, Sirius Black.

What a smarmy, egotistical little bastard.

From the very moment he sauntered into the station, wearing a beat-up leather jacket and a devil-may-care smirk, you'd known your life was about to get complicated. Or, well, more complicated.

Your job is difficult enough, chasing down criminals and solving murders all day, without having a nosy moron breathing down your neck, spouting crackpot conspiracy theories when the evidence is much more straightforward.

You hear his footsteps on the linoleum before he strolls around the corner, clutching a cup of takeout coffee in each hand. He sets one of them on the desk in front of you, brandishing a crooked grin like a weapon.

"How is my lovely muse this morning?" He winks at you as he slumps into a nearby chair, pulled close to the corner of your desk for research purposes. You wonder if he's ever heard the phrase 'personal space'.

Your lip curls. A slew of paperwork has been spread across your desk for an hour, all related to the case you solved earlier in the week, where Black had been, surprisingly, somewhat helpful. Your boss had been liberal with his praise, and Black's ego had puffed up to an insufferable degree.

Unfortunately, you're now reaping the consequences.

"Considering if I can kill you and make it look like an accident," you reply, your voice flat. You sniff the coffee before taking a sip. Annoyance punches through you when you realise he has your coffee order memorised. You want to bury him in a shallow grave.

Black leans back in his chair, a wide grin sweeping over his face. "If anyone could, it would be you."

"Does any part of this shadowing gig involve helping me with the, frankly ridiculous, amount of paperwork you generate?"

He purses his lips in thought for a moment before shaking his head. Strands of shaggy black hair fall around his face. "Never really written the paperwork into my books. A bit boring, you know. Nothing the readers want to bother with."

You roll your eyes. "And yet, Mr Black, you insist on bothering me."

"Sirius, please." He chuckles at you. How were you unlucky enough to catch his attention? How insane is he, wanting to follow a homicide detective around for research on his new book? "Mr Black is my father, and a large part of the reason I write mysteries, not horror." He feigns a shudder.

"Mr Black," you say, fixing him with an unamused glare. "When, exactly, do you think you'll be finished with your book?"

"Detective, you wound me!" He splays his hand over his chest, just above his heart. You try not to stare at the tattoos flexing across his knuckles, or the way his shirt goes tight across his chest. "Here I was, thinking you enjoyed our time together."

"Like a hole in the head," you mutter.

There's a teasing twinkle in his eyes. He takes a long sip of his own coffee while you return your attention to the paperwork, scribbling your signature in the appropriate places.

Every once in a while, you can feel him watching you. Eyes like swirls of cigarette smoke, analysing your every move. There’s an odd little tick he has, his fingers tapping an unfamiliar rhythm against his leg. Whether the sound is soothing or frustrating, you can’t quite decide.

The shrill ringing of your desk phone startles you both. He’s trying not to laugh, you can tell, as your hand darts out to answer it.

I wonder if this is how zoo animals feel, you think to yourself as you listen to the officer on the other end of the line. You scratch the information out onto a post-it note, an address and a few other key details, before hanging up.

He’s a bundle of energy beside you. His knee bounces, and there’s a gleam in his eyes that is beyond inappropriate, considering the circumstances of your job and his so-called research.

It’s like being stalked by a golden retriever, except you’re certain you would prefer the dog over Sirius Black’s presence.

“Grab your coat, Mr Black. We’ve got a body.” You push yourself away from your desk, filing the paperwork away in the drawer for later.

He bounces to his feet with a level of enthusiasm that should, frankly, be illegal.

“Try to be a little less excited,” you say in a chiding, exhausted voice as you lead him out of the station. “Someone is dead.”

“I’ll try to be as macabre as possible, detective,” he assures you. He climbs into the passenger seat of your car, drumming his fingers against his leg in that bizarre non-rhythm again. “I’ll channel my mother. You know, I based one of my characters on her…”

Tuning him out is easier said than done, but you do your best. The book must be nearly finished. How much more research can he possibly do?

You just have to grit your teeth and bear his presence for a few more weeks. You just have to make sure you don’t kill him for a few more weeks. He’ll surely get bored of you and find a new muse at some point, right?

[racfoam]

A Muggle AU Harrymort fic where Voldemort is a killer (he is in his late 40s/early 50s when the fic happens. I had to push his year of birth forward by 4 decades but if you want me to write Old Man Muggle Voldemort fucking Harry I AM NOT AFRAID BRING IT ON) who killed Harry's parents and 20 years later 21-year-old Harry visits him in jail and he ends up becoming obsessed with her.

Some background info for the scenes below:

1st Scene - First meeting, short sentences.

2nd scene: This is set in the jail when Harry visits Voldemort and gifts him Shakespeare’s Plays Hardcover Book for his birthday. This capybara is absolutely using this fic as an excuse to extend my knowledge on English and classic literature.

3rd scene: At this point, Voldemort has kidnapped Harry and is driving her to the Riddle Manor from London to Yorkshire and there is Forced Marriage, they are married already in this scene.

4th scene: They stop at a petrol station and Harry has a plan to get free. Bcs tumblr is being a little bastard and not letting me paste it, I'll make a post exactly for it. FUCK YOU, TUMBLR.

1st Scene (First Meeting)

He did not look like a killer. Except… Except the eyes. Those were a killer’s eyes.

2nd Scene (Jail Visit)

“What’s your favourite?” asked Voldemort, pulling Harry out of her thoughts. “What?” asked Harry, blinking. “Shakespeare,” he replied calmly. “What’s your favourite play of his?” Harry shrugged. “They were all boring to me, really.” Voldemort chuckled. His long, slender fingers touched the cover of the book, in the exact same spot where Harry's fingers had been holding it a few minutes ago. A slow, fond caress. His cold gaze never strayed from hers.

[Voldemort is wishing his fingers were caressing Harry’s skin rather than the leather cover of the book.]

“I think you’d like A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” said Voldemort, continuing to brush the cover of the thick book. It was making Harry uneasy. His gaze was burning into her. “Because it isn't a tragedy, unlike so many of his works. Some are so dark and morbid, aren't they? And you don’t like tragedies, Harry.”

“There is a scene, where Lysander, who has forgotten Hernia because of a flower juice poured over his eyes, sees her once again, and falls in love with her all over again.” said Voldemort, looking at Harry.

Harry wondered how a man so old could be so beautiful.

3rd Scene (Roadtrip)

It was a dark Bentley Arnage Uncle Vernon would be jealous of. Harry couldn’t truly appreciate it with her right hand handcuffed to the door handle. Harry also couldn’t appreciate the casettes it was playing, either, because she wanted to chuck herself out of the window because it was playing Sweet Caroline. What was worse... Voldemort was singing over it. And the bloody bastard was a bloody good singer. “Sweet Caroline,” sang Voldemort, his silken voice somehow better than Neil Diamond’s, and Harry truly hated thinking it. “Good times never seemed so good...” Voldemort was jolly, smiling broadly, like a man from the 50s celebrating marrying the prettiest girl in town. It was unnerving, chilling the blood in her veins. “Oh, come on, Harry,” said Voldemort, glancing Harry's way with a slightly offended expression when he saw she was glaring at him instead of joining him in singing. “You know this one.” Clenching her jaw, Harry was starting to truly, consciously consider committing first degree murder.

4th Scene (Petrol Station)

Voldemort parked the Bentley beside the petrol pump. He shut off the car engine, pulled out the car key and unbuckled his seatbelt. “Stay here, my dear.” he said, leaning over to place a quick, but nevertheless warm kiss on Harry’s left cheek. By the time Harry registered what happened, Voldemort was opening the doors, closing them shut. The heat of his lips lingered on her cheek, molten hot like venom. Harry leaned her head over the seat, her heart racing. She watched Voldemort move to the petrol container on the left side of the car. It was better not to do anything. He’ll have to go in and pay for the petrol. That’s when Harry will start digging for the key of the handcuffs. Harry watched Voldemort, and he must have noticed it, because he turned his gaze toward her, giving her an ardent, covetous look, the sharpness of his eyes softening, his lips pulling into a charming smile. Harry’s heart performed a sommersault. Flinching, she turned back around, facing forward. Her face felt hot, and there was a burning heat low in her belly. She heard the hum of the petrol as the petrol pump turned on, pouring petrol into the petrol tank of the car. For a while, Harry focused on that, trying to forget the soft lines of Voldemort’s face. Voldemort opened the doors, making Harry jump. “Are you hungry?” he asked her. “No,” replied Harry dully, staring at the shop because she didn’t want to look at Voldemort in that moment. It was the truth. Harry wasn’t having much of an appetite at all. “Do you need to use the bathroom?” “Um,” said Harry awkwardly, because she was feeling her bladder was getting full. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.” Voldemort hummed. “After I pay.” he said, then closed the doors gently. To think such gentle movements and gallant behaviour could shift to monstrous within a blink. Harry watched Voldemort walk into the petrol station store. When the doors closed behind him, Harry started reaching her free left hand toward the storage compartment, but then she saw Voldemort pull out a credit card and swipe it across the card-reader. Fuck. The next second, Harry retracted her hand back to her lap, and the second after that, Voldemort exited the petrol station carrying a plastic bag. Harry’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. Voldemort got back in the car.

“I brought you pads,” he said, much to Harry’s horror, placing the bag in the backseat. He turned on the car and drove to the right, in one of the many empty parking spots, near the bathroom sign. Then, he leaned down and unbuckled Harry’s seatbelt. Harry watched where the key — Fucking hell! Voldemort pulled out the small key of the cuffs from his back pocket, placed it into the lock, and unlocked the cuff. Harry got her right hand away from the open cuff as quickly as she could.

Voldemort got out of the car and opened the doors for Harry, offering her his hand. Harry only put her hand in his because she knew he’d be displeased if she didn’t. His hand was big and surprisingly warm. His long fingers wrapped around her palm, holding her hand tightly, and he helped Harry out of the car, then closed the doors. It was rather warm outside in the summer weather, but nothing serious. They walked, hand-in-hand, to the bathroom section. There wasn't anyone in the women's section. Uncaring, Voldemort stepped in, letting go of Harry’s hand at last and letting her go into the cubicle. Just to be safe — or have an illusion of safety and privacy — Harry locked the doors. She heard Voldemort laugh amusedly, a low sound. Harry quickly did her business, glaring all the while at the doors, flushing red at the awareness Voldemort was on the other side of the doors, listening... Harry couldn’t believe how bad her luck was. The only options she had were to make a run for it now (impossible, she’d need to turn invisible) or steal the keys which were in Voldemort’s back pocket. Harry wanted to smash her head against the wall. Rather death than whatever awaited her with that psychopathic, remorseless murderer. She had to think, and do it fast. Hang on... Pads. “Harry,” said Voldemort coldly, voice darker; it sent chills down her spine, goosebumps along her flesh. “If you’re stalling —” “Um,” said Harry in the most genuine, awkward tone possible.

“I got my period.” A moment of silence. Harry could feel Voldemort’s eyes through the door, and she wondered if he could hear the lie in her voice. “I see.” said Voldemort. Harry smiled at her genius plan. Now Voldemort will have to go back to the car for the pads and Harry can run for it. “Open the doors. I brought one with me.” What kind of creep are you?! Harry thought to scream, but choked it down by a growl. It must have come out as pained (it was pained, but for an entirely different reason, such as this bastard being too thorough!) because she heard Voldemort’s footsteps on the tile. “I won’t enter.” he said, while Harry’s heart raced along with her mind. “I’ll pass it to you.” The plan to run was ruined. Harry doubted she’d get a chance to steal the keys anytime soon before they reached a motel before nightfall, before he... Harry’s breaths quickened, coming out in wheezing, rattling breaths. God. God. God. Why her? She never should have gone there. She never should have stepped foot in that prison. She never should have picked up the phone on the other side of the glass. She never should have bought him that fucking book for his fucking birthday as some fucking kindness. He deserved to rot in there, he deserved to die in there, he was a monster in human form. But Voldemort broke out because of her! Because he wanted her! Because... what had she even done that... What made him... A sniffle broke through Harry’s tumbling thoughts of despair; it belonged to Harry. It was Harry. Harry was sniffling. On the verge of crying. “Harry.” It was his voice. Silken and soft. “I won’t do anything until tonight, as I promised you. Now open the door.” Miserable, Harry got up from the toilet, uncaring for her lack of underwear. Right as she reached for the lock, an epiphany swept over her. Voldemort wanted Harry. It was so simple that Harry felt like laughing. Voldemort wanted Harry. Harry's breaths calmed as sudden realisation swept over her. Any sign of tears vanished. Harry would get those keys even if she had to suck Voldemort off in this bathroom cubicle. Determination burned inside of Harry. Then, she opened the doors, and when Voldemort's hand entered through the gap, holding the pad, Harry grasped his wrist instead, and pulled.

Continuation of 4th scene cus tumblr is a little bitch - This is where Explicit Content is.