#the azkaban letters

[romaine2424]

Weekly Blog July 27, 2023

I've been very busy reading and writing since my last post! The good news is that I've posted the re-edited original (2007) seven chapters of my WIP! It felt so good put them back up. @m0srael and @epitomereally thank you muchly for the tags to do a WIP snip. I was going to do it but did this instead. :) I plan on posting Chapter 8, which will be the first brand-new chapter of the fic this weekend. After that, I'll wait a bit until I'm further along in my writing.

One of the fun things for me in this round of posting a fic, is using Work Skins on AO3. I know, I'm very late in the game. I'm now tempted to go back to my older stories and add some fun things to it. Especially for letters and newspaper articles!

Here's the link to my WIP. Hey, it's my blog, and I can do a little self-promotion. LOL I do miss the harrydraco com on LJ. It was the best for posting new fics and chapters to a wider audience. There is no equivalent in fandom now.

The Azkaban Letters (chapters 1-7) on AO3

Okay, now that's done, let's move onto the amazing fics I've read. Wow, just wow!

What I've Been Reading:

There's three fics I've read that were complete standouts. One older Dramione and Two new Drarry. I'm going to start with the Dramione and apologize to @lol-zeitgeistic (zeitgeistic on AO3) for stalking their works. Ha ha ha. Most folks obviously know their masterpiece story Azoth, REVOLVELOVER with Hit Wizard Harry, and Shibboleths (amazing sci-fi story). Yes, I know there's more...I'm working my way through. :) But as I was making my way through their catalogue of yumminess, I spotted their Dramione fic, Straightaway Dangerous (125K). I immediately felt a kindred spirit in that this was an older WIP that they were determined to finish. 8 years to the day. Here's the Summary:

During the final battle, an unexpected insult sends Fenrir Greyback on a rampage, changing 39 people into werewolves. He should've known better than to make Hermione one of that number. Includes werewolf living and culture, Draco’s questionable morals, Hermione’s questionable life choices, and unrequited bromance (well, it’s requited a bit, but don’t tell Potter that).

This fic hit so many of my personal buttons in what I love about HP fanfic. Exploration of places and character types mentioned in canon but where we have little more info. In this case, the place is Knockturn, where Hermione lives in a rundown flat. She's secretly trying to add charm to the place. The character types are hags, werewolves, vampires, veela (all magical but considered other), politics, and BAMF witches. LOL Okay, and the side of Harry/Luna was adorable. You will fall in love with this Harry.

The premise of the fic is that Hermione and Draco were both bitten together, and 37 or 38 others were too, during the Battle. They have some rights but not enough to make a life. Hermione and Draco are both Unspeakables and best friends for seven years...until things change with the political environment.

The current head of the Wizengamot is making things harder and harder for the 'others' and it becomes too much. Even the Werewolf Aurors (including Ron), are affected. But there is someone on their side and the reveal of that person was such a fabulous surprise.

The relationship between Draco and Hermione goes from enemies to friends to lovers (with lots of arguments because both are stubborn). The relationship progresses so naturally but every step well fought for. The initial sex scene is unexpected and it's fire. They both fall but Draco harder. It's a thing of beauty watching how he works for what he wants.

One last note: The lore in this fic is amazing. My favourite, as it's rarely explored, is for the hags. Truly deserves an award for creativity.

Straightaway Dangerous on AO3

LA, Who Am I To Love You? (42.5K) by Anon was posted yesterday for the @hd-wireless fest. I'm not going to go into too much of the story because it was written for @sitp-recs prompt, and Liv's comments on the fic will tell you how truly spectacular this fic is. I can't touch her way of expressing love for a fic. Here's the Summary:

Harry’s summer in LA is not going as expected. Pansy Parkinson keeps inviting him to parties in the Hollywood Hills and harassing him to finally go to the physical therapist, Blaise Zabini keeps slipping new strains of his company’s magical weed into Harry’s pockets in hopes of an endorsement, and Draco Malfoy keeps having sex with everyone but Harry.

See everything in that summary. It looks so light and so fun. It is, but there is so much depth hidden in each of those sentences. What I want to discuss is LA. If you've lived in the LA area or even just visited, this fic will make you weep with homesickness. Everything rang true, from the Bougainvillea flowers being like florescent crepe paper to driving at night with windows down, experiencing the warm air whether in the city or blessedly in the desert while listening to music. The magical touches added to the movie industry and to Quidditch were mind-blowing.

I was born in San Francisco and grew up in the East Bay Area, but went to undergraduate college in San Diego. 1/3 of my school was from LA. My dormmates, my best friend in college (RIP Kristy), my first serious college boyfriend. They all helped me fall in love with SoCal. It was a long time ago. I can't tell you how many memories came back last night reading this story. Now my ex-husband lives down there, and my son also. He's at an Art Institute. Thanks, MA for taking us on this ride!

LA, Who Am I To Love You? on AO3

The second Darry is also from @hd-wireless. This fic, Weapons of Massive Consumption, like the other one has a funness (yes, I know that's not a real word) to it but there's more darkness to this one. Watch the tags on this. Here's the Summary:

Eight years after the war, Harry Potter lives a life of hedonism: raging parties, huge impulse purchases, and seemingly no worries. But it's Draco Malfoy—former Death Eater, lover of blueberry muffins, and bane of coffee shop workers—who starts to wonder if it's all a front, if something's actually terribly wrong with him. Why else would Potter ask Draco, of all fucking people, to write his biography?

What's not mentioned in the summary is that Draco has been away for much of those eight years. He returns from the US changed and is now a writer. What he discovers is that those that stayed are still stuck, traumatized by the war. And now there's Harry, who wants Draco to write his autobiography but then doesn't want him to include any of his bad behaviours. Draco goes along for the ride but finds himself trying to save the hero.

I've read quite a few fanfics dealing with addiction, but this one...this one so rightfully calls out what a disease is and what trauma is. Theo will fricken break your heart. Anyone who's experienced a group of friends who are playing around with alcohol and/or substances will recognize Theo. The one who is damaged more than the others. The one you're not sure can be saved, but you love them anyway. And then sometimes you have to step away.

The fic is not all doom and gloom. LOL When dealing with sex and drugs, there's a lot of fun...until it isn't. As I mentioned at the start, it has so many hilarious bits and scenes to it. One literally had me laughing so hard I had to step away from my computer. Harry is royally pissed off at Draco and takes it out on Draco with a comment to Narcissa in public. You will know it when you read it.

The fic handles the serious subject matter with clarity and love. You will likely recognize yourself or at least some of your friends while reading it. And, yes, Harry and Draco can both be idiots but still come through what life has dealt them.

Weapons of Massive Consumption on AO3

As with all fics I recommend or discuss here, if you read them, please leave a comment. These authors definitely deserve some love.

Okay, way way too long today,

Rom

[myheadsgonenumb]

Owl

Dear Padfoot, 

It’s my birthday today. I am 26. I didn’t even realise it until they said the date on the wireless earlier, I don’t pay attention to such things anymore. My father sent me a card, which arrived by owl post a few days ago, and I just put it to one side and forgot about it. It’s been a quiet day. I haven’t worked. I had not eaten - but when I heard what day it was I allowed myself to break into my reserves and bought myself a loaf of bread and some jam. I could not justify the cost of a cake, but I shall have some toast smothered in apricot jelly later and be glad of it.

I am trying to stay cheerful, thinking about my toast - thinking this jar of apricot jam  can last me a good while yet. That I can treat myself again and again until it is gone. But, truthfully, my heart is sore - and I keep thinking of my birthday ten years ago. 

Ten years … it feels like a hundred. Since we four roamed Hogwarts, claiming it as our kingdom and having more fun than should technically be legal (indeed, much of what we did was not). I think of James - roaring with laughter, fizzing with energy, flirting so hopelessly with poor Lily. And little Peter, anxious not to be left out, clutching his comics and asking for help with his homework. And I think of you, Sirius. 

I think of you most of all. 

I think of how fiercely loving you were, how loyal; I think of how protective you were and how angry you got if anyone ever slighted me. How every mention of werewolves in Defence Against the Dark Arts was like a personal slight against you, they made you so furious. I think about how safe you made me feel. And how loved. And how appreciated.

And then I think of that man, sitting rotting in his cell in Azkaban - and that is why my heart is sore. For once again I am faced with that impossible choice I have wrestled with for nearly five years now: Did I have a friend, who loved me beyond reason until one day he did not? Or was my friend always a lie? 

I have been asking myself since the night James died which hurts more - and all this time later, I still do not know…  

I’m sorry. I’m getting carried away in my own melancholy. Letting the gloom overtake me again. Well, you know what I get like, you better than anyone. Today is my birthday and I am having apricot jam on toast, and I should probably go and open the card my father sent me and send him a “Thank You” letter by return owl. I will let myself think of us, all four of us - as we were - in the Great Hall, enjoying any number of feasts that we ate there; I will think of us laughing and joking and having the time of our lives - the way I should always try and remember us. The way we would have wanted to be remembered. 

And I will try not to let it hurt too much. 

I will write again soon.

Love, Remus

He finished his letter, and read it back - and then he took it into his bedroom, opened the wardrobe and took out the shoebox he kept stashed carefully at the back of it. He took the lid off. Inside, there were piles of letters - just like this one. Over four years worth. All written to Padfoot, and then put away here, where no one - not even Remus - would ever look at them again. 

This was just one more letter for the collection.                  

Word Count: 629

@wolfstarmicrofic

[fuckmymunson]

🔮 sirius black with a size kink?

...Yummy. Thanks for the request ♡.

18+, smut, postAzkaban!Sirius, didn't specify reader's age, but it's over 18, so yeah, do as you please ☆

🏛𝐉𝐨𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧!🫖

You hated this place, it was so… dark and gloomy.

Walking around the lugubrious living room, you sat next to the fire, not only was this godforsaken house extremely creepy, but it also was extremely cold.

“Hope you don’t mind an old man’s company.” You heard a deep, masculine voice behind you.

Standing up, you sighed in relief, smiling back at the owner of the house. “I’m sorry Mr. Black, I didn’t heard you.”

“I should be the one apologizing, dear.” He smiled wider, holding a cup of presumably firewhisky in his ringed hand. “And skip the formalities, you can call me Sirius.”

“No problem, Mr— Sirius.” You corrected yourself at the last minute, earning you another wide grin.

His smile. Godric. There was something about that smile that made your insides stirr with nervousness. Perhaps it was the huge crush you developed the moment you saw him walking through the kitchen door on your first meeting as an official member of the Order. Or perhaps it was your incessant desire for older men. Who knows?

“Good girl.” He took a seat on the nearest couch, patting the cushion next to him. “Don't mind me, take a seat, make yourself comfortable.”

«Good girl. He called me a good girl.» You thought, flustered.

Taking a seat next to him, you gulped when he patted your thigh with a juvenile glow in his grey eyes.

“Are you cold, darling?” Sirius asked, swirling the liquor in the glass, the soft sound of ice rattling against each other.

“A bit, yeah.”

He pursued his lips, taking a long drink. “Poor thing, let's change that, shall we?”

His hand slid over your thigh, finding its place on your waist. The request was unspoken, but he only needed to look in your eyes for the silent answer and permission. Sirius grabbed your hand as he guided you upstairs, locking the door of his bedroom behind you.

“I know this house isn't exactly cozy.” He placed the empty glass on his nightstand. Sitting on the edge of his crimson bed and promply hiding his face in your neck. “It's old, boring and frigid, but—” He kissed your neck, his cold lips making you shiver. “I can warm you up. I see the way you look at me, sweetheart, and believe me it's very much reciprocated.”

“Is it really that obvious?” You shyly mumbled.

He found your reactions simply amusing. “A bit.” One hand squeezed your cheeks. “But I don't mind, in fact— I'm honored by such a beautiful little thing like you would look at me.”

Was he kidding?

He was absolutely gorgeous. Aging like fine wine. He towered purposely next to you on every meeting, placing his big hand on your shoulder while talking to you, always looking for the tiniest excuse to have any sort of physical contact with you.

A lingering touch, his chest pressed against your back while walking though the crowded room. He was taller than you, and the way he looked down, at you, was enough to make you squirm like a schoolgirl.

By the time he slid inside you, your whole body was ready to combust into lust flames. He was bigger than you imagined, not even in your filthiest dreams you imagined Sirius Black would have such a breathtaking cock. And breathtaking was the perfect word to summarize it.

He groaned in raw delight, his black curls painted with light gray lines framing his high cheekbones, true royalty. “You’re so thigh, fuck.”

“You’re just so f–fucking big, Sirius.” You moaned, pressing your forehead on his naked shoulder.

“Yeah?” He purred, hands firmly gripping at your hips, sliding you up and down his length. “Is that so? Is my cock too big for you?”

Nodding feverishly, you cried in pleasure, desperately wrapping your arms around him. Sirius chuckled breathlessly and secured you around his strong, tattooed arms. The overwhelming sensation of the tip of his cock bulging in your stomach was straight out of this world.

“You like this big cock inside you, puppy?” He growled in your ear, manhandling your ass.

“Uh-uh.” You mumbled, dizzy, lost in the gushing sounds of your slick and skin slapping against his bare thighs. “S’good.”

“I'm sure you do.”

[dramioneasks]

Hi! I have been searching endlessly for a fic I read years ago where Draco is writing hermione letters from Azkaban and she is hiding them in a box or a drawer? I don’t believe she is responding but I know that he does eventually get out and they find each other!

This?

Night Visitor - kiwi05622 - E, 15 chapters, Words: 111,960 - His apology came to her on the wings of moonlight. Her response returned to him in delayed indifference. This is Draco Malfoy’s journey seeking forgiveness from his past misdeeds and finds redemption through their letters while a prisoner of Azkaban.

-Lisa

[adoobiesworld]

remus after the first wizarding war thinking abt sirius

[impishtubist]

todays slander can be that remus actually did a shit job as a teacher because despite noticing signs of abuse from multiple students he makes no efforts to report those concerns to his fellow staff members/the ministry in a way that a mandated reporter probably should have

YOU'RE RIGHT AND YOU SHOULD SAY IT. Also it's not slander to simply point out his canonical actions 🤷‍♂️ But yeah, he absolutely should have reported both Harry's and Neville's situations to someone. To make myself feel better about the whole thing, I pretend that he did raise alarm bells to Poppy, McGonagall, and of course Dumbles, but Dumbledore suppressed everything and nothing ever came of it.

[colorful-white-ideas]

Cinematographic parallels

Paralelismos cinematográficos.

Clark (2020) // Harry Potter and the prisoner of Azkaban (2004)

Me when I noticed this:

[theatrescribbles]

Letters from Heaven - New Chapter

31st October 1993

Dear Harry,

Hello sweetheart! We hope you’re ok. You comfortable sleeping on the Great Hall floor? Not how you would imagine spending Halloween?

Let’s try and catch up, shall we? Where do we start?

Continue on A03

[in-my-feels-probably]

Hi there, hope you're doing well. I would love to request a fic where the reader is Sirius' wife who reunites with him after he escapes from Azkaban, takes care of him e.g. feeding him and grooming him, and helping him get better. Cheers!

Right Where You Left Me

Request: I would love to request a fic where the reader is Sirius' wife who reunites with him after he escapes from Azkaban, takes care of him e.g. feeding him and grooming him, and helping him get better.

Hi! I’m so sorry for the wait, it took me forever to get to this request, and even longer to finish it. I’ve been in a bit of a slump, but I feel better. I love this request, thank you so much for sending it in! I hope you enjoy it :)

(Warnings: swearing, mentions of azkaban and sirius’s treatment there, mentions of death, vague mention of nudity, let me know if i missed anything)

—

When you received the Patronus from Remus telling you Sirius had escaped from Azkaban, it brought you to your knees. 

You thought about him every day. But you could only ever picture him in the days before he was arrested. It hurt too much to think about him rotting away in prison. But hearing that he got out? That he was out in the world and could be anywhere by now? The fact that he was suddenly much closer to you than you thought he would ever be again?

It terrified you.

You married Sirius right after school ended and the war was beginning to pick up. He proposed on a whim, telling you that the rest of your days weren’t guaranteed, and he didn’t want to live through another day without you tied to him. You would have always been by his side, but this was tying more than just your lives together—it was your souls. When Harry was born, you were named his godparents. All was well for a while. Calm, even. Of course, the calm didn’t last. 

It wasn’t long after your marriage before that night in Godric’s Hollow came, and Sirius was taken away from you. 

But it wasn’t just Sirius. 

It was James, Lily, and Peter—even Mary. Marlene was in the weeks before, and Dorcas too. They were ripped away from you, far before you were ready to let them go. Remus was the only one who you kept in touch with after that night. You clung to each other in the weeks after, seeming to be the only people in the world the other could find solace in. But as the years passed, your visits and letters became few and far in between. 

Then—after all that time—another Patronus came. 

Sirius had come to Hogwarts, and he’d proved his innocence to those who mattered. It was Peter who had betrayed everyone, and he was still alive. 

And, while Sirius had you and Remus on his side, he was still considered a fugitive. The Aurors were after him, and he needed to be kept some place safe where they wouldn’t come looking. Luckily for you, the flat you bought was outside of Wizarding London. Sirius had always loved the feeling of places untouched by magic, so after you married, you moved in together in a quiet area on the outskirts of London. It was his idea to use magic to ward it so that people looking for you would have a hard time, and after so long away from the Wizarding community, not many people would think it was worth it or even remember to come looking for Sirius in hiding with you.

After twelve years of solitude, you couldn’t fathom the idea of your husband coming back to you. You couldn’t fathom the idea of him being part of your day to day life again. All you could do to keep yourself together was tidy up and prepare for Sirius’s arrival.

You couldn’t believe it when Remus finally brought him home to you. 

Your boy—who was a man now, or at least the shell of one—was sitting right in your living room. The only home he had ever known outside of Grimmauld Place or Hogwarts, and he couldn’t have looked more out of place. 

Neither of you spoke when Remus eased him down onto the couch, before coming to your side. You’d always pictured that by some miracle if Sirius ever came home to you, you’d rush into his arms and he’d hold you like no time had passed. You spent years missing his touch, wishing you could hug him just one more time. But now he was right in front of you, and you had no idea how to act. You didn’t know if he even wanted you to touch him. You couldn’t take your eyes off Sirius, eyes wide as you looked him over. 

Time had not been kind to him. 

You could see the man you once knew bleeding through, but so much of this version of him was unknown to you. Sirius kept his eyes on the floor, but would occasionally glance up at you. You knew he was seeing a stranger, too.

“I have to go back,” Remus whispered, turning your attention to him. “They’ll know what’s happened back at Hogwarts if I don’t leave soon, and too many people know what’s happened already. I’m sorry. I’ll come back as soon as I can, yeah?”

You could hardly hear him, but you quickly nodded, giving him a squeeze. “Be careful, Remus. I’ll take care of him while you’re gone.”

“I know you will,” he murmured, squeezing you tight.

He let you go, kneeling down next to Sirius who was watching you both with a look full of anxiety. Remus placed a hand on Sirius’s shoulder, his touch light and gentle.

“I have to go, alright? But you’re safe here. I promise. It’s just Y/N.”

Just Y/N, Sirius thought. He just nodded, a conflicted look on his face. Remus stood up, giving you one last look of sympathy, before walking out the door. He left a deafening silence in his wake.

It took you forever to get your feet to move. But when you did, you were falling. You landed on your knees just in front of Sirius, peering up at him through teary eyes. You could see him take a breath, stilling as you got closer.

“Can I touch you?” You asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Sirius swallowed hard. He gave you an almost imperceptible nod, and you gently reached your hand up, your fingertips hovering over his face. Taking a breath, you cradled his cheek in your palm. You could feel the stubble along his jaw, and the sharpness off his cheek. His skin was cool, far from the usual flush you remembered from all those years ago.

“You’re really here,” you murmured, your voice catching in your throat. “Oh, love. You’re so beautiful.”

Your words pulled a pained whimper from Sirius’s chest. He nestled his face into your hand, a few stray tears pooling in your palm. You were quick to wipe them away, leaning in close. He tilted his head down, resting his forehead against yours. He took a deep breath, taking you in.

“I pictured your face every day, and I still think I’ll never get tired of looking at you. How could I? You’re right here in front of me, as beautiful as the day I lost you. But you’ve always been the pretty one in this relationship, haven’t you?”

You let out a watery laugh, shaking your head. “In my dreams. But it’s good to see your sense of humor is still intact.”

The next few moments were quiet, nothing but the sound of sniffles and shaky breaths reaching your ears. 

Finally, Sirius forced himself to look around. He’d braced himself from the moment he walked in to see all that had changed since he left. He’d expected you to move on and live your life without him, and he’d expected the flat to reflect that. It was honestly more of a shock to him when Remus told him you still lived there than anything else. But as he looked around and took everything in, he realized how wrong he had been. 

“You haven’t changed a thing,” he said, looking at the art on the walls you’d picked out together when you first moved in.

You glanced around as well. You wanted to tell him how you didn’t have the heart to change anything. And although seeing him in everything around you felt like you were being stabbed, you just couldn’t get rid of anything. Getting rid of it would mean getting rid of all you had left of him.

And you would have rather been stabbed a thousand times than do that.

You shook your head, pointing to the spare room. “Actually, Remus lived here for a while. He pretty much flipped that whole room. Said something about you having too expensive a taste for him to have to endure for extended periods of time.”

“Merlin, I bet it looks like grunge threw up in there,” he mused, making you smile and nod.

You stood up, offering him your hands. “Are you hungry? We need to get you fed and cleaned up, love.”

Sirius looked down to the robes he was wearing. They were tattered—resembling rags stitched together more than they were resembling clothes. His hair was greasy and matted to his head, and his face and body was caked in dirt. He had almost forgotten just how dirty he was, a flush spreading across his cheeks as he gave you an embarrassed look. 

“It’s alright, darling,” you said softly, taking his hands in yours. “We’ll take it at your pace. Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

Reluctantly, Sirius nodded. You smiled, gently leading him up off the sofa and into the kitchen.

—

It took ages to find him something to eat. 

You nearly keeled over when he told you that pretty much the only thing he had been given to eat for the past twelve years was bread and water. It was what he’d grown accustomed to eating, and he wasn’t sure he could stomach anything else. You had to choke back tears when you finally suggested soup—one of the first things he learned to make on his own without magic. It took a while, but he managed to get most of it down. 

You made small talk while he ate, telling him little things he’d missed while he was gone. You left out the most painful details. You could tell him about those later.

Finally, he couldn’t stall anymore. 

He let you take him by the hand and lead him to the bathroom, his eyes on the floor as you shut the door behind him.

“Shower or bath?” You asked, turning the water on to let it heat up. “A bath might be easier. You look tired, and I don’t want you falling over or something.”

Sirius just nodded, and you assumed he was alright with you choosing for him. You let the tub fill up, making sure the water wasn’t too hot before you turned the faucet off. You turned back around, frowning when you saw Sirius looking back at you with anxious eyes.

“It’s ready,” you said softly, stepping out of the way.

Sirius watched you for a moment, fidgeting back and forth on his heels. Just as you opened your mouth to speak again, he beat you to it.

“Can you turn around?” He asked, lowering his eyes to the floor. “I don’t mind if you stay, but could you…could you maybe turn around for this part?”

You quickly nodded, stepping towards the door. “Of course! I’m sorry, I didn’t even ask if you wanted me in here—”

He was quick to speak, his voice shaky. “I do! But this is just a little weird, you know?”

You nodded, backing up to the doorway and turning to face it. You could feel the heat creep up to your cheeks as you heard his clothes hit the floor, followed by the sound of him climbing into the tub. You had seen Sirius naked a thousand times before. He was never ashamed of his body, he never shied away, and you had seen plenty of him in your years of knowing him. This version of him made your chest tighten, and all you could do was stand there and hope he wasn’t feeling the emotions you were. You waited another moment before talking over your shoulder.

“Do you need anything, love? I’ll wait outside if you want me to. Unless you want me here. I’m happy to do whatever you want, it’s up to you.”

Sirius cleared his throat. “Uh…could you maybe help me? My hair is matted and I don’t think I can fix it on my own.”

There was probably a spell you could have used—some sort of detangling charm to help get the mats out. But Sirius had gotten used to not being able to use magic, and you didn’t feel like using it either. The truth was, you preferred it this way.

It was an excuse to get close to him again and spend time with him.

It was an excuse to take care of him.

You nodded, turning around to grab your brush. You kept your eyes on his as you sat down on the edge of the tub, trying your best not to let your eyes wander. You set your brush on your knees, reaching for a cup off the ledge of the tub to dip down into the water and fill up.

“Tilt your head back for me, love,” you directed, smoothing your hand over his hairline as he tipped back far enough for you to pour the water over his hair.

You repeated the process a few more times before setting the cup down and grabbing the conditioner. You smoothed it through his hair, gently tugging at the knots with your fingers before you grabbed your brush. It was silent while you worked, making slow but steady progress. Eventually, Sirius shifted, and the water sloshed just over the side of the tub.

“Sorry,” he muttered, looking over his shoulder with guilty eyes to see if he splashed you.

“Don’t be,” you replied quickly, smoothing a comforting hand across his shoulder before moving back up to his hair. “Are you alright? Getting cold?”

Sirius opened his mouth to speak, before deciding against it and closing it. He just shook his head, growing silent once more. You knew there was something he wasn’t saying, and you didn’t want to push him. But you hadn’t made much progress with his hair, and you didn’t fancy sitting in silence for the rest of the evening.

You set your brush down, gently smoothing your palm over his hair. “Sirius…you can tell me anything. You know that, right? I know this feels strange, but it’s still me you’re talking to. Alright? It’s me. There’s nothing you can’t tell me. Whatever it is, I’m here to listen.”

There was another splash as he shifted, twisting around to face you. He was going to say that he’d tell you another time, and that he didn’t have it in him to say it just yet. 

But then he looked into your eyes.

And you were looking at him with such sincerity and warmth that he couldn’t help but spill. You watched his eyes fill with tears, and you quickly reached for his hand which he gladly let you take.

“I saw Harry,” he finally choked out.

You felt your breath catch in your chest. A deep sorrow spread through you, filling your gut with dread. You could feel your own tears stinging behind your eyes, but you quickly blinked them away. It wasn’t the time for them.

“He looks just like them, doesn’t he?” You breathed, squeezing Sirius’s hand. “I haven’t seen him in a while. Remus promised he’d say hello for me once he got to Hogwarts.”

“He knows who you are?” Sirius asked, his voice full of surprise.

“Dumbledore wouldn’t tell me where he was when they came for him. The bastard said I was “in no shape” to look after him, and it was too dangerous for me to get involved. I tried so many times to get him to tell me, but I knew he had already pushed me and Remus to the back of the list as far as who could be around Harry…I didn’t even catch a glimpse of him until he was eight. Merlin, you have no idea how angry I was when I found out they had given him to Petunia and her sorry excuse for a husband.”

Sirius’s jaw clenched. You could see the anger brewing inside him, watching as he took deep breaths to calm himself. But he didn’t let it out on you. He just squeezed your hand, tightening his grip.

Sirius cleared his throat. “Did you try and go get him?”

“Dumbledore threatened to have my magic taken away if I didn’t leave the matter be. He didn’t tell me anything about Harry or where he was kept hidden away. He just brought me a picture of him, and promised that when it was finally time for Harry to go to Hogwarts, he’d let me see him. Remus had to keep an eye on me till he was sure I wouldn’t do something stupid before that time came. He’d been waiting as long as me—he’s just better than me at patience, I guess.”

“You never were very good at being patient,” Sirius mused, but you could hear the strain in his voice as he spoke.

You gave him a tight lipped smile, trying your best to mean it. “Anyway, I met Harry for the first time in Diagon Alley. Dumbledore finally let me see him under the condition that it be in a public and magical place—but I wasn’t allowed to tell him about you.”

Sirius frowned, and you could feel your chest tighten. You ran your thumb along the back of his hand, your eyes in your lap.

“I wanted to tell him—so badly. But Dumblefore wouldn’t let me. All I could say was that I was a friend of Harry’s parents, and that I was there to help him get ready for school. I finally told him I was his godmother last summer when I took him for school supplies again. He spent the afternoon asking me about how I knew his parents. He kept pressing for every detail about them and how I knew them, and I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I told him everything about James and Lily I could remember. It just about killed me—”

Your words caught in your throat, cutting you short. Sirius reached his other hand up to reach for yours, his brows furrowing in concern. You looked up, giving him a sad smile.

You swallowed, choking back tears. “He’s so like them, Sirius. He’s got James’s ridiculous hair, and Lily’s fire. I can hardly look at him without seeing her eyes staring back at me. It’s so fucking unfair.”

A pained sound was pulled from Sirius’s throat, and you stopped yourself from talking about James and Lily any further. You grabbed the brush again, burying your nose in your work as you tried to ignore the sorrow you caught in his eyes before he turned his head straight.

“Tell me about it,” you prompted, changing the subject. “Tell me about him.”

Sirius was quiet a moment, like he was trying to find the right words. “He was…beautiful.”

You smiled, nodding for him to continue as you worked the knots out of his hair.

“He’s got this little witch by his side who quite honestly scared me—”

“Hermione,” you finished for him, grinning. “She’s a wonder, isn’t she? Ron, too.”

Sirius nodded, wringing his hands. “I’m glad Harry has someone. They seem like good friends. He’ll at least have them by his side to keep him from getting into too much trouble. He’ll certainly have a better shot than we did.”

You chuckled, smoothing your hand over his hair. “Remus told me he’s doing really well. It was a big year for him, but…he’ll be alright. We’ll see to that now.”

Sirius stiffened, turning around to face you. You paused what you were doing, setting down the brush. His eyes were lowered, his voice quiet as he spoke.

“I told him he could come stay with me, at least once it was safe to and he was able. I wasn’t really thinking about where that would be. My first thought was Grimmauld Place, but I don’t think I can stomach having him there. It’s not right. But I didn’t think to ask you—”

“Sirius, love,” you interrupted, gently cupping his cheek. “This is your home. You can invite whoever you want—you don’t have to ask my permission. And Harry will always be welcome here. If it’s what he wants, he can come stay with us. It can be his home too.”

His eyes softened, and his shoulders fell as he let out a breath of relief. “Merlin, I missed you.”

You could feel yourself growing emotional again, but you refused to let it show. There was so much you wanted to say to him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak without your eyes welling with tears. You just cleared your throat as you leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to his shoulder.

“Tilt your head back for me again, darling,” you managed to whisper, rinsing his hair out. “Almost done. We’ll get you cleaned up so you can rest, alright?”

—

Not long after, you had Sirius clean and out of the tub, bundled up under the pile of blankets you had dragged over to your bed. He looked a bit ridiculous buried under them all, but it made you smile seeing him comfortable, and he was very happy to oblige you. 

You laid next to him, under a considerably less amount of layers. “Warm enough?”

A warm laugh came from next to you as Sirius rolled over to face you. “Yeah, I think I’m all set, darling.”

You smiled, and the room fell into a comfortable silence. Out of habit—one you didn’t even know you still had—you reached for his hand under the sheets. You used to always wind down every night like this, cherishing the time you had together. You never knew how much longer you’d be able to do it with the war raging on, and you both got quite used to doing this each night. 

Sirius stiffened in surprise when he felt your fingers reach his, but he quickly recovered once he realized what you were doing. He let you take his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers.

“This bed is so soft,” he murmured, tilting his chin down to look at you. “I forgot how soft it was.”

You tried not to let your mind wander, thinking about the sleeping conditions he would have had in Azkaban. He would tell you one day about what it was like there. 

Neither of you were prepared to talk about it just yet.

“Do you wanna sleep somewhere else? I could make up the couch—”

“No, love,” he said, squeezing your hand. “This is good.”

You nodded, resting your head against the pillow. Another silence fell over the room. You shuffled to get a little closer, absentmindedly tracing your thumb along the back of his hand. Sirius let out a heavy sigh, drawing your attention up to him. You waited for him to speak, lying still until he looked down and his eyes met yours. There was a pain in them you couldn’t describe.

“Did you think I did it?”

You sucked in a breath, your grip on his hand tightening. You could feel his eyes on you as you frowned, bring your joined hands up from under the sheets to rest on top of the blanket.

You had been waiting for him to ask you this.

You knew he must have spent the past decade wondering what you thought happened. He’d sat in that cell all alone, thinking his wife thought he was a cold blooded murderer who had killed her best friends. 

The world thought he was a killer. Why wouldn’t you?

You dropped his hand, gently reaching up to cup his cheek. His skin was warm against yours, a pink flush spreading. Was he embarrassed? Ashamed? You didn’t know. You caressed his cheek, giving him a sad smile. You could see his eyes welling with tears.

“No,” you finally said, your voice sure. “I didn’t think it was you. I didn’t know what had happened, but I didn’t think it was you.”

Sirius let out a breath, his voice cracking. “Really?”

You swallowed hard, nodding.

“You would have died before ever hurting James—and you would have done a lot worse to save him. There wasn’t a single part of me that thought you could have killed James and Lily. I just couldn’t fathom it. There was no one in this world you loved more than them, and I knew that it couldn’t have been you. I didn’t know they had made Peter the secret keeper last minute, and I didn’t know where his body was if he was supposed to be dead, but I knew you had absolutely nothing to do with it. I think Remus knew it too…deep down. He thought I was crazy with the theories I was coming up with to try and absolve you. But he never truly blamed you—and eventually, we stopped talking about it all together. It hurt too much to keep trying to solve the mystery. It was easier to let it go.”

Fresh tears spilled, and Sirius was quick to wipe them away. Your heart ached at his kindness, even after all these years. All these years of solitude when you had left him behind, and yet, he was the one consoling you.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked out, composing yourself the best you could. “I’m so sorry I didn’t try harder to get you back. I’m so sorry you had to suffer there all those years while I got to just keep living my life. You don’t know how sorry I am. Please forgive me, Sirius.”

Sirius quickly shook his head, his palm resting against your cheek. “None of that, pretty girl. It’s not your fault—”

“But it is,” you tried to say, but he just kept shaking his head.

“Well, I don’t care—it doesn’t matter…I don’t blame you. I never blamed you, darling. So stop blaming yourself. I’m sure you’ve spent long enough doing that, and I won’t watch you torture yourself. Don’t you think we’ve both been through enough torture?”

You could hardly believe what you were hearing. He was so strong. It shocked you, just how strong he was. He had been through so much, and yet he still carried himself like the man you knew. He still let other people lean on him even when it should have been him doing the leaning. It was remarkable, really.

“Since when did you get so wise?” You asked, and you had mustered a grin that made him smile too. “Where’s the stubborn man I once knew?”

Sirius shrugged. “He’s still in here somewhere. Just needs a little practice. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll meet him again soon.”

You scoffed, breathing out a laugh. “That’s alright. I kinda missed him.”

Sirius chuckled, and your smile widened. This felt easy—this was good. You were so worried that, after all this time, you wouldn’t know how to act around each other. You were so afraid that Sirius would walk around the flat like a ghost of the man who once called it home. But he didn’t. It only took him a few hours to start cracking jokes, brushing his fingers against yours. 

It wasn’t perfect—neither of you expected it to be. 

But it gave you hope. Sirius was going to be okay. You both were going to be okay. And you’d get there together.

—

A/N - Hi! Again, I'm so sorry for the wait. I honestly don’t love the outcome of this, but I figured I’d finish it anyways. I loved this request, and I just kept coming back to it and adding it. Hopefully this is what you were looking for, sorry if it’s shit. Thanks for the request :)

[luveline]

hey! would you mind writing sirius black x reader (ole flame or something) when they meet for the first time since azkaban at a meeting for the order? thank you and happy holidays!

thank u for requesting, hope this is OK! ♡

—you and sirius both get to go home eventually, 2.2k. fem

You were still kids when Sirius… went away. You thought he hurt James and Lily, and it didn't matter that you loved him because he was evil and cruel and he hurt the people he loved most in the world, and then you were outposted thousands of miles eastward, your life a shadow. 

Remus sent you letters. You always answered, even when it hurt, but his last was too much to believe. You told yourself that someone forged his handwriting through a curse or some new gimmick, and then a second arrived with a smaller envelope hidden inside. 

No name written on it. No Dear anything to begin. 

Things are different to what you've been told. Please come home, it said. This penmanship was shaken like a hand out of practice, but something felt familiar in the curves and dots. 

If Remus’ letter (and the second smaller one too) were in fact telling the truth, it means you did something awful, and so, for a while, you don't go. 

Please, the next letter says, again enclosed within a larger explanation from Remus, I'm sorry. I just want to see you again. 

Getting home isn't as simple as he might think. You have to picture the destination very clearly to disapparate, and you have no sustained recollection anymore of the places you used to go. You remember silly things, slices of memories; the four of them laughing in a big green field, the sweet smell of hair oil to your left; the beige walls of a rented flat where you'd lay in bed for hours, sometimes days at a time, before things got too terrible to sleep; a string-lit garden that last summer, hands of poker on a glass table. These places aren't real anymore. You can't go back to them. 

Upon your request, Molly forwards you an address and a secret code. 

Trains, buses, trains again. A long walk through a cold street. Some secret this or that. You arrive in the night and a frowning face ushers you in, past a painting sealed away and up the creaking stairs. You spend hours sitting on the end of a bed coated in dust waiting for the sun to rise, your back stiff with nerves. You could slip out before anyone else knows you're here, it's not as if Moody would give you away. But why did you come, if you were going to run straight back to your outpost? 

You don't want Sirius’ betrayal to be true, of course. It took your breath away imagining what it would mean if he hadn't done what you thought. If it's all lies (as it seems to be), if he's innocent as he and Remus claim, it means you turned your back on him and left him to suffer, and he's still asking you to come home. 

A few people stir for breakfast. Molly, who's voice you remember, and some younger sounding ones that may be her children, or perhaps the newer Order recruits. Then comes Remus’ voice. He sounds different. Less Welsh, more tired. Homely anyways as he passes your door with someone beside him. 

“...any day now,” he's saying, “try not to worry.” 

“I do worry. I've worried about it every day for years.” 

You freeze up. 

The stairs creak, Remus’ voice moving further away. “She doesn't need worrying.” 

Sirius must stay at the top of the stairs for a moment. He sounds close. “I wouldn't know what she needs.” 

“Come have some breakfast.” 

“I'll write her again.” 

“After breakfast.” 

“What if she doesn't come?” 

“After breakfast,” Remus insists. “She can ignore you once we've had toast.” 

“I forgot how funny you are,” Sirius mutters. 

Hearing his voice fills you with doubt. He sounds nothing like he used to, no easy confidence to be heard, just fatigue. 

You look down at your hands. Hearing his voice has a new emotion sprouting, too. When you first learned what had happened to your friends, you felt anger like a knife everywhere you went. How could he do that to them? How could he do it to you, be that person, ruin everything you'd loved and made together? But later, when anger faded and grief ached, you'd missed the Sirius you loved. Shamefully, in longing pangs, you'd toss and turn to dreams where things were different. 

Now there's a chance he might still be that person, and you're hiding from him in his own house. 

“There's someone here,” Molly says as you leave your room, her voice nearly too quiet to hear from the kitchen. “Moody's told me this morning.” 

“What?” Arthur asks. 

“Who?” a younger voice says. 

A small intermission of quiet. “Well, I don't know,” Molly says eventually, though she must have guessed it was you from the letter you sent. “But I'll need another loaf of bread. You'd better go, boys.” 

“Mum,” one whines. 

“Come on now.” 

The stairs whimper as you descend, the bannister sticky with old gloss under your hand. Paisley wallpaper and drapes catch your eye as you pass the overflowing shoe rack. There must be more people here than you'd thought. The coat stand is similarly overloaded. 

You can see into the kitchen as soon as you take the last step down. Molly stands wringing a dish cloth between her hands, two teenage boys at the kitchen table. Remus stands near her right with a cup of tea, and when he sees you, he genuinely smiles. 

“Oh, good,” he says, the scar that bisects his lip pulling as he takes a sip of tea. 

The teenagers turn to see you. “Bread, boys! Arthur, you can go with them," Molly says.

Arthur doesn't complain. You falter in the hallway, quiet as the trio of Weasley's leave the kitchen in their slippers to take a quiet exit from the front door. They smile politely as they go, but the boys whisper as the door shuts behind them. You wonder if they have an inkling of who you are, and then you wonder what you might say now they're gone. 

Molly remains, inquisitive to know that you need privacy but also the security of her company. She was always smart like that.

“Come in, then,” Remus says. 

“I–” You clear your throat. “I'm not sure I should.” 

A startle of silverware against china. 

Remus gives you one of his looks. It has tears threatening to well. Why didn't I fight to see him more? you think. Suddenly years have passed and he's changed, but his reassuring glances remain. It's like he's saying everything is fine, why wouldn't everything be fine? Chin up, dove.

Sirius appears in the doorway. Dark circles beneath grey eyes, his cheeks gaunt with hunger rather than the sleek sharpness he once possessed. He's still pretty, if wounded. It's as though you've found an old photo of him that's been smudged with age. He's stepped out of one of your moulding albums to haunt you. 

“Angel,” he breathes, his hand clasped low on the doorway, “you're here.” 

You look past him to Molly and Remus. There isn't a reality nor dimension where they'd let him stay here if they didn't believe his innocence. Remus explained it all in the letter and still you worried if he might have gotten it wrong, and simply believed what he wanted to believe, but it's not possible. Remus loved James so much, he would've killed Sirius himself if he really thought Sirius was the secret keeper who betrayed them. 

So. It's a relief to be home. 

You stare at him. “You look tired,” you say quietly. 

“I'm fine. I am.” 

He seems alright, considering. You'd even say he was handsome with his hair pushed away from his face, a dark shadow of stubble around his mouth, but he looks exhausted.  

You're expecting him to say what you'd say. How could you ever think I'd do it? 

Sirius was prone to similar bouts of pride, or righteousness, justice, whatever you want to call it, but he doesn't bother with that now. He looks at you as though you're the only person on earth, gaze narrowed but eyes wide, pain between his brows as he asks, “What's wrong?” 

Your hand finches up to your cheek to wipe the sudden tear away. “I thought I'd never see you again.” Your Sirius. 

“Don't be upset,” he pleads. 

“How can I not be? I left you all alone for so long.” 

He laughs roughly. “Sweetheart, what were you supposed to do?” 

“Not just give up.” 

“You thought it was me. That's the only thing you could've done. Either of you,” he says, gesturing backward with his hand. “It was hard… to know who to trust, at the end. It's not your fault.” 

You really were only kids together, not half as in love as James and Lily, but that doesn't mean you weren't mad for each other. He looked after you. You would've had a life, you think. 

“You were just gone,” you say, looking down at the floor between you, eyes tracing lines of wood grain. “Everyone. There was nobody left. And I just let you go.” 

“Do you want to come here?” he asks. You lift your head. His hand is barely in front of him, fingers open, palm up. 

It's like taking a stranger's hand for the first few seconds. You keep them low between you both, unfamiliar to each other. But, you find, as his fingers wrap around yours in that selfish way they used to do, squeezing rather than intertwining to make all of them fit, he remembers you.

You step a little closer, your arm to his chest, and look up at him through your lashes. It would melt him like a candle near a furnace, this look. He'd be smug or seething about something and you'd sidle in to stand between his shoes, unsure of what to say but determined to be there for him. It's the same now.  

“What's wrong?” he asks under his breath. 

“I left you all alone,” you repeat. 

“It wasn't your choice, okay?” He smooths his free hand from your elbow to your upper arm. 

Molly says something to Remus. He chuckles and says something in return. Happier to admit it if it's only for Sirius’ ears, you say, “I'm really sorry, Sirius. I miss you every day.” 

“I miss you too,” he says. 

You push your arms around his waist and hide your face in his chest, feeling for the lines of who he used to be, the dip of his spine in his back or the soft cotton of one of his old t-shirts. You regret hugging him at all, until he puts his arm behind your head, a shaky breath released against your crown. 

I'm scared, he'd said. But I don't want you to be scared, okay? Barely twenty, he smelled of the sticky red powder on the end of matches after a night doing things he couldn't tell you about. You could tell him you loved him, and he you, but you weren't to discuss Order business. We'll be okay. 

But Lily–

Everyone's going to be fine. I promise. 

“You promised,” you say to yourself. Too quiet for him to hear, but he does. 

“I promised you so many things I'm not sure what one you mean,” he says with a disappointed laugh. 

You pull away, taking his face into two hands. “How do you feel?” you ask, ignoring the tremble working up from your wrists. 

“What?” His eyes are dark. 

“How are you? Did they– I mean, are you okay? Are you sick?” 

“Remus has patched me up. And Cordelia, the medwitch, you know her?” 

“I don't know anyone. I've been away.” 

He nods sadly. “Yeah. Well, you look the same.” 

“I don't.” 

“You do! You look the same,” —he almost sounds happy, his lips curling into a smile— “sweetheart. Sweetheart–” He closes his eyes. 

You push his hair behind his ears. “You don't look the same,” you confess, “you have wrinkles, right… here.” You touch the corners of his eyes. 

“You're still beautiful.” 

“Mm. You can't even see me.” 

“I don't need to see you. I knew you would be.” 

You rise up to kiss his cheek gently. “It's like you're back, like– like, I always felt like you were gone. And now you're home again. You are home, aren't you?” 

He covers your hand with one of his. “You're here, so–” 

You laugh together nervously. “Yeah, I'm here.” 

“I have stuff to do to make it right.” 

“Then we'll do it.” 

“Okay,” he says. He swallows a breath, and wraps you in a surprisingly tight hug. “Did you read my letters?” 

I don't want anything from you. Just to see you're okay. 

“I read them. I'm okay. Don't I look okay?” 

“You look perfect. Just like the last time I saw you,” he says. It startles you how suddenly he sounds like he did when you were young, his flirting drawl, voice velveteen. 

“Not like that,” you laugh. 

He pulls you as close as you can be, rough now, his arms solid around you. “I missed that,” he says, rubbing your back. “I forgot how you sound when you laugh.” 

You've led very different lives. “I didn't forget yours.” 

“You wouldn't. You love having things to hold against me.” 

You stroke his hair. “Maybe a little.” 

[celestemagnoliathewriter]

Sirius Black Appreciation Post

Time to celebrate Sirius Black's birthday by highlighting my favorite canon facts 🥳

Sirius is tall. We're talking at least 6'.

He's intelligent AF. He became an Animagus at 15. He charmed a Muggle motorbike to fly (Arthur couldn't do that with a car, Sirius did it in his late teens, latest at age 20). He escaped from Azkaban. He got a cat to order a racing broom. My man is brilliant, no doubt about it.

Sirius has a complicated relationship with his mother and it is *not* merely hatred. Note that he did not destroy his mother's portrait, or slash it as he did with the Fat Lady's. I'm confident that he could've figured out a way to destroy it or otherwise get rid of it, but he doesn't. His refuge is in his mother's old room with Buckbeak. There's something very complicated in his relationship with his family that can't be labeled as simple loathing. Sirius may have run away from home at 15/16, but his background 100% shaped him and left its mark on his personality and psyche.

Sirius was good friends with Lily. The letter from Lily to Sirius is great proof of that - it wasn't James who wrote that letter, but LILY. Sirius was smiling and genuinely happy at Jily's wedding.

Sirius is emotionally driven, and lashes out *with good reason.* When he goes after Wormtail the night the Potters died, it's because Harry is taken away from him. He has nothing to hold him down - and even gives his motorbike to Hagrid. When he tries to get to Wormtail in PoA, he slashes the portrait but doesn't harm a single boy in his search for the rat. When he goes to the Department of Mysteries, his focus is on Harry. These are good reasons, even if it puts him in danger.

Sirius has a great sense of humor. He puts little Santa hats on the decapitated elf heads. He chases pigeons as Padfoot just to make Harry smile. He sends a good luck note with a muddy paw print. He is scathingly funny, when he derides Peter's hero worship of James in Snape's Worst Memory. He's bitter and sarcastic. We love to see it.

Sirius is a baby boomer. He was born in 1959. "Ok, boomer," is an applicable retort.

Sirius is not misogynistic. He does not hate women. He is often kinder to women than men. He helps Ginny up in OoTP. No matter how angry he gets at Molly, he is never, ever physical with her (unlike the way Sirius is with snape, who he does get physically aggressive with). He is kind to Hermione. He had a great relationship with Lily. Even in the end, his last words to Bellatrix are 'you can do better than that.'

Sirius does not have a canonical love interest.

Sirius is willing to challenge Dumbledore. This is an important point - with so many people deferring to Dumbledore's judgment, including Remus, the Weasleys, and Harry - Sirius will challenge him and his decisions. He may not get his way, but Sirius has the personal strength and confidence to challenge one of the greatest wizards of all time.

Sirius was great with animals. Crookshanks and Buckbeak are prime examples of this.

Sirius is deeply flawed: he can get very intense. He can be rash, even if he has good reasons. He can be bitter to the point of hurting others ('the risk would've made it fun for James'). He can be cruel and condescending (my robes have enough filth without you touching them/wormail will piss himself with excitement). He can be callous (wishing it was the full moon, sending Snape on a potentially deadly adventure). He's a hurricane of deep, complex emotions.

Canon Sirius would obliterate fanon Sirius.

Happy birthday, Sirius. You would've loved James Sirius, Albus Severus, and Lily Luna. You'd have had the time of your life at Hinny's wedding. You are an absolute king.

[romaine2424]

The Azkaban Letters Chapter 33: The Close (End of Part 2) has been posted!

I've been posting since last Summer and finally this section of the fic has been completed! TAL is canon divergent after HBP and is a Drarry and Haphne story. Part 2 ends with the take down of Voldemort. The story is now 225K and Rom is a bit burnt out. :( However, what it is to come in Part 3 was one of the major concepts that originally inspired the story and I'm excited to tackle it. I'm really hoping to have the story completed by end of summer, if not before.

But for now, Chapter 33 is quite exciting, and if you've been following along, I'm hoping you'll be pleased with the results. Warning: the chapter is 15K. *dies*

The Azkaban Letters (Chapter 33: The Close) on AO3

The Azkaban Letters from the start (Chapter 1: Prologue: Beauty Released) on AO3

[slytherizz]

Everything, with you - Sebastian Sallow x F!MC/Reader

Tags/Warnings: 18+ | Breeding Kink | Size Kink | explicit sexual content | Dad!Seb

All tags can be found on Ao3

Summary:

"Watching you carry my children is one of life's greatest pleasures. If it's possible - you're more beautiful now than you've ever been.”

“Do you ever think about…”

“Having another one?”

A/N This works as a stand-alone but if you happened to have read either of my long fics this would sit either after the epilogue of 'Whatever it Takes' or in between the final chapter and the epilogue of 'In the Shadow of Us' (but I omitted the Azkaban references so it works for both). I have literally nothing to say for myself for this one other than...

For the thicc Seb girlies 💕

Dark curly hair tickled the underside of Sebastian's chin as he adjusted his son nestled in his lap. Book resting against his knee which was bent at an awkward and rather uncomfortable angle where he'd managed to cram himself onto Sam's little bed. Sebastian’s neck ached and his left leg was almost completely dead. Not that he minded. He knew his youngest would outgrow this one day, and would no longer need his father to read him fairytales. So Sebastian succumbed easily to Sam’s pleading and let himself be the dutiful mountain against which his son could rest. 

"Now, this word’s a little tricky, so take your time with it,” Sebastian tapped his finger on the page. "What does this say?"

"I'm not sure." Sam frowned. He traced his pudgy finger over the unfamiliar word and along the bright plume of fiery feathers printed in rich shades of red and gold on the page. The enchanted bird ruffled its wings as it clicked its beak attempting to nip at Sam's fingers. Each time the bird squawked soundlessly as he stroked its plumage Sam giggled with delight.

"Sound it out. You see right here? The 'Ph' makes an ‘f’ sound.”

"Like ‘t’ and ‘h’ make a 'the' sound?" 

“Exactly right. Two letters. One sound,” Sebastian said, ruffling his boy's hair proudly. 

Alice, his eldest had always had an uncanny ability to memorise words. Could recall the contents of practically every book he'd ever given her once she’d devoured it. She'd taken great pride in unnerving her primary school teacher by listing every ingredient in ‘A draft of living death’. Which may have seemed like a feat within itself…until she’d insisted on doing it backwards.

His unique form of parenting had been called into question more than once by her teachers but who was he to tell his daughter that ‘most potent potions’ was not appropriate bedtime reading? Restricting her inquisitive mind would be a far greater sin. 

Sam's little mind on the other hand worked like a tinker. Slower it may seem than his sister as he pieced together meaning. But that wasn’t nearly the case. Simply because he liked to fiddle with things more than his sister. Take a word apart and rearrange it before dismantling it again entirely. He picked apart the rules as he learnt them. All whilst, humming sagely from time to time like he was some great philosopher and he wasn't in fact, a boy of four who had spent the morning sulking when there was no honey left in the pantry for his toast.

“Try sounding it out," he encouraged. 

"Fee-nix?" Sam’s brows furrowed slightly the new word unfamiliar and clunky on his tongue. "Pheonix?"

"That’s it. You’re doing well. Now I know you know the rest of it. Reckon you can read the full sentence?” 

"The p-phoenix went up in…smoke?"

"Clever boy!"

Sam turned to look up at Sebastian, puffing out his chest with pride. Sebastian kissed the crown of his head affectionately. Sam burrowed his head into his shirt trying and failing to disguise a yawn against his father's chest. 

Snapping the book closed and placing it on his bedside table. Sebastian scooped him up as he shifted off the small bed placing his son snuggly under the quilt constellations in golden thread adorned its edges. 

“Right, I think that's enough for tonight. Bedtime for you mister.”

“But I'm not tired,” Sam protested. Rubbing his drooping eyelids which did little to rally his father to his plight. Eyes so like his mother's framed under furrowed dark brows. Stubbornness was an inherited trait and with how pigheaded he and his wife could be Sebastian should have known his children would be no different.

“I'm sure you're not,” Sebastian chuckled. Tucking the blankets tighter around his squirming limbs. “But it's already way past your bedtime. If you settle down I’ll put the stars up - How does that sound?”

Sam grinned, nodding his head eagerly as he buried his head deeper into his pillow. Sebastian pulled out his wand. Sam’s eyes lighting up. Glittering as they always get in his eyes when either of her parents performed even the simplest of charms. With an unnecessarily large flourish, Sebastian extinguished the bedside lantern plunging them into darkness. He whispered his modified charm.

Stars small but dazzling began to twinkle into life one by one across the steepled ceiling painting the cosmos across the wooden beams. 

It wasn’t nearly as elaborate as the charm in the Hogwarts great hall that had given Sebastian the inspiration. Not quite a replication of the overcast sky outside, but to Sam’s childlike wonder; his father could conjure the heavens in his bedroom. Pluck the stars from the sky so he could sleep bathed in starlight. 

For all his folly into the persuits into the darker sides of magic - there was no spell more powerful than the ones that made his children’s life a little more magical. 

“Night, Dad.”

***

Undoing the buttons of his shirt Sebastian shucking the material from his shoulders. Wincing as he kneaded at the tight knot that had formed in his neck from too long spent hunched over in his son's small bed. Stretching like a bear ripe from hibernation joints cracking audibly. 

His dark brows lifted in alarm as he caught his reflection in the ornate oblong mirror tucked into the corner of their bedroom. 

Sebastian had always looked like his father. Same bow to their lips, unruly chestnut hair and soft brown eyes like sodden earth after rain. He could practically divine how his features would change using the brushstrokes of the portrait of his parents that hung proudly on the stairs. 

But it was the things that went beyond the superficial that made his parents' old friends stumble on his name and acquaintances double-take in the street as if the dead still walked among them. The determined set of his jaw, the curious glint in his eye. There truly had never been any mistaking exactly who Sebastian’s father was. 

But he didn’t just look like his Dad ; he looked like a Dad.

Not that he'd ever been particularly lean . A stockiness to his frame as all Sallow men carried. Violence practically carved into his marrow. Built more for quidditch or boxing, than for scholarly pursuits he'd always been drawn to; but this was getting out of hand. 

Sebastian frowned at his reflection. Still strong in the trunk in a way that he never minded, especially not with how it elicited such sinful looks from his wife but he had become notably softer around the middle. What had once been a sparse tuft of hair on his chest he’d taken great pride as a lad, was now thick dark hair trailing down his stomach. 

It seemed as unprepared Sebastian had been, stumbling bowlegged and awkwardly into fatherhood, not having nearly enough time with his own to have much to go off; his body had settled far quicker into his new role than he had.

Scratching at the short beard he kept neatly trimmed. Well, for what could pass as neat considering his hair was unruly no matter where it grew. Sebastian twisted and turned, appraising himself from different angles.

When was the last time he'd duelled? Worked up any kind of sweat? 

Perhaps he should consider himself lucky he was in the shape he was. Carrying his children upstairs to bed and lugging stacks of heavy stacks of old manuscripts and attifacts charmed against magical interference around the Department of Mysteries hardly counted as exercise. The closest thing anyone would consider vigorous was fucking his wife. But then again holding her small frame against a wall hardly felt like work. 

He rotated his joints, and the tendons of muscle in his heavy shoulders flexed under freckled skin. An old puckered scar long faded to white across his shoulder now a mere remnant from his past life. Underneath the soft exterior of the doting father he’d become still lurked the shadow of the hellion youth he’d once been. 

Delicate hands slithered around his middle running along the breadth of him stroking at the hair on his chest. Her warm cheek came to rest, nestled between his shoulder blades. Sighing affectionately, her breath tickling his skin. Sebastian leaned into her touch, even after all these years he still felt sparks.

"If you keep scowling your face will get stuck like that,” she chided. Sebastian snorted twisting in her hold to face her. She’d loosened the soft braids she usually wore at her temples so her hair hung loose around her shoulders. She smiled up at him, crooked and his heart stuttered in an unsteady rhythm. 

“Alice, go down without any fuss?”

“Has she ever?” She quirked an eyebrow at him far more amused by their daughters' antics than cross. “Caught her trying to get into your study after I put her to bed - again. Luckily she isn’t half as stealthy as she is mischievous.”

Sebastian grinned at her, arching his eyebrows. “She gets that from you.”

“I think Scribner would have disagreed.” She said rolling her eyes. “But something tells me it's not Alice's nocturnal antics causing that face. Tell me what's wrong my love?" 

Placing a warm hand against his cheek fingers combing through the hair on his chin. He shifted uncomfortably under the weight of her gaze. Failing to suppress the heat he could feel rising in his cheeks most likely staining the tops of his ears. 

"Nothing, Pet. I’m uh-” he hesitated, wincing slightly. Perhaps she hadn’t noticed. And is she hadn't, he was reluctant to point it out. Lest it change the way she looked at him. She was still as radiant the first time he'd laid eyes on her but Sebastian was a far cry from the roguish boy who'd made her heart race. 

He leaned heavily into her hand resting against his chin. Letting the tenderness of her touch and softness of her gaze quell the unease. “Just carrying a bit more timber than I'm used to. I hadn’t noticed how much the years had caught up to me. After two kids and all."

"You’ll always be the same stubborn and reckless boy to me," she wrapped her arms around him tighter. It was only a chaste peck but an inexplicable blush darkened her cheeks as she nibbled on the inside of her cheek contemplatively. Her hands grazed along Sebastian’s freckled shoulders, through the sparse hair on his chest nails scratching softly. "But I must admit…I rather like you like this. Broad. Manly.”

" Oh - Do you now?" he smirked. Admiring the flush that had stained her cheeks at her admission.

Seeming to take an unnatural amount of interest in the pattern of their curtains she averted her eyes blushing deeply. "Yes. I do. And don't let it go to your big head.”

Far too late for that. After all these years she should really have known better. His chest already swelling with pride a smug smile pulling at the corner of his freckled cheeks.

Tugging at the sleeve of her pale blue dress. The cotton slipped away to expose more of her skin. Sebastian snaked his hand around her waist to settle on the small of her back. Ducking his head to pepper kisses along the dip of her shoulder. 

The faint smell of mallowsweet that always clung to her hair far sweeter than any perfume; a herb balm that had soothed and tamed his stubborn heart. Heat rose where he'd exposed her as Sebastian's mouth worked its way down her neck towards her clavicle. Her fingers pressed a little harder into his flesh feeling the tight coils of muscle that still lurked underneath. 

Despite Sebastian's intention of letting his wife thoroughly enjoy the body, she found so desirable. She seemed distracted. Her breathing hitched a little as he grazed his teeth over her delicate throat. Sucking in just a way that would usually drive all the thoughts from her pretty head - that was not the case tonight.

“Besides - it's not like I look the same as I did before Alice and Sam.”

"Mmm, but watching you carry my children is one of life's greatest pleasures. If it's possible - you're more beautiful now than you've ever been.”

“Do you ever think about…”

She trailed off. Mouth opened and closed lamely as she searched for the words her eyebrows furrowed. 

“Having another one?”

The high-pitched and uncharacteristically nervous noise of agreement she emitted made Sebastian pause his efforts to adorn her shoulder with dark love bites which were now blooming like wild grapes. 

It was rare to see his wife nervous. Even rarer still for her mind to be elsewhere when it came to their marital relations. But he could understand her trepidation; it wasn’t as if either of their children had exactly been planned. 

Before either of them were born he often wondered if they should have been parents. Not a single guardian between them to cobble together any semblance of what a parent should be. A trail of lost souls he'd not been able to protect. 

Hazy memories of love weren't exactly a blueprint for success. 

So Sebastian packed those feelings away even before he'd let them fully bubble to the surface. Resigned perhaps to the fact that although she may have fallen in love with the rough-edged boy he’d been; she'd still bore witness to the worst of him. A dark unsightly stain on his soul he kept cloistered away but they both knew would never leave him. Or her.

And why would either of them want to burden a child with him as their father; or her with his last name? It did not do to dwell on something Sebastian never thought he’d be able to have.

Then one day their world shifted and as willfully unprepared as they’d been for it; so did they. 

Alice bloomed in the cracks of space in their lives they hadn’t known something had been missing. But perhaps had always left vacant and wanting for her. 

Sam, followed so shortly after. Alice - barely a year old when they’d realised three would quickly become four. 

By then, Sebastian had put to rest that gnawing anxiety that told him perhaps they should have never been parents. Fatherhood suited him. Soothed an old ache that had been throbbing since the passing of his own and now he wore it like a familiar coat. 

He allowed himself to bask in the elation of their growing family; in a way, he’d not been able to with Alice. Not only taking pride in his wife, who practically glowed more beautiful than he’d ever seen her; but pleasure in watching her stomach swell once again with his child. 

So much in fact, he lamented over the missed opportunity for what it would be like to take her with the sole intention of filling her with life. Could practically taste it every time he felt her unravelling on his cock. Dragged his feet at the apothecary when she asked him to purchase extra dandelion root for her monthly brew in the years that followed.

Already Sebastian could feel his blood rushing south at the thought. Inhaling sharply, calming his heart which was now thumping hard against his sternum as that familiar desire pooled. 

“I love our family. Alice and Sam, are plenty troublesome and we have our hands full as it is,” he began carefully.

Sebastian cupped her chin, shifting her soft gaze to his. The smile he wore, genuine if a little weak. What he said was true. Sebastian did not wish to burden her with making such a decision simply to satisfy his elicit fantasies. He would not begrudge her if she didn’t want another child after she’d given him so much - more than he’d ever let himself hope for. 

But she visibly deflated with his words. “Oh…so you wouldn't want another one?”

“No! I mean- not ‘ no’ . Merlin, it’s quite the opposite. In fact, I think I’ll always want more ,” Sebastian spluttered. Tongue tied and feeling the opportunity slipping through his fingers Sebastian took a breath to right himself. “Neither of us has much in the way of family outside of the one we made for ourselves - each child you give me is the greatest blessing I never thought I’d have. I’d love nothing more than to grow the family that we created.”

“I just want to know you're sure. You don't have to just because I want one.”

“There is nothing within my power that I would not give you. But, trust me love there are other  reasons it appeals to me.” 

“Oh?”

Hands glided down her spine grabbing the soft curve of her backside. Her eyes widened as he pulled her flush against his body where she could feel the growing bulge press against her stomach. Tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear, Sebastian ducked his head to nip gently at her earlobe before he whispered.

“Getting to fuck you purely with the intention of filling you with my seed. Watching you swell with another of my children. Breeding you. ” His voice, a low rumble reverberating from deep in his chest. Domineering. Predatory. Every point his body was pressed against hers felt like a fire that ignited a desire that lay dormant inside him. Desperate to claw its way out. Claim her as his - again . "Wearing the evidence under those pretty dresses of yours for everyone to see. So they know exactly what you let me do to you. Who you belong to.”

A visible shiver ran down her spine. Goosebumps prickling across her skin at the filth of his words. Feeling pressed hard against her stomach exactly how much the idea appealed to him. 

“Sebastian-”

“Tell me you want it and it’s yours,” he murmured huskily against her neck. Nipping at that spot below her jaw he knew made her knees buckle. 

His little witch had never been the obedient sort, as wild and stubborn as a poorly bottled lightning. But after all these years together - Sebastian knew exactly which buttons to push. How to make her laugh so hard her cheeks ached from smiling; a sound so perfect it washed his worries away like a tide. The ones that made rage; burn so fiercely he was reminded she was barely a witch at all but a dragon merely playing at domesticity. 

Most favourably to Sebastian were the ones that turned every rational coherent thought in her head into a blinding fog of lust.

He trailed kisses across her skin, her pulse quickening under the tender brush of his lips. An eager whine slipped from her throat. Hips pushing against his in search of friction to soothe the heat pooling in her abdomen.

“Yes- fuck. Please, I want that. Another baby. Your baby.”

The choked sound that clawed its way out of Sebastian’s throat sounded far from anything human. Somewhere between a groan and a growl. 

Wasting not a second longer he grasped her hips lifting her swiftly as if she weighed nothing at all. Thighs wrapped tightly around his hips as she moulded into him. Heat radiated from her core barely concealed behind the thin fabric of her undergarment. 

Fingers tangling in his hair, she pulled his lips forcefully to hers. Kissing him greedily. Tongue delved between his parted lips as if he were the air she breathed. 

From the way she ground her hips insistently, his wife cared little if it drove him to distraction; she knew there was no way Sebastian would let her fall. 

Carrying her over to the bed to practically launch her down onto the mattress. Hooded eyes, devoured every inch of her husband standing above her. Her dress dishevelled had ridden up to expose the tops of her thighs which squeezed together in anticipation. Sebastian palmed his hard length through biting hard on his lip to stifle a moan.

Her nimble fingers came quickly to fumble with the buttons of her dress. Sebastian batted her hand away with a grunt to tear into them himself. His mouth trailed kisses further down her body with every inch he exposed.

Stopping as in his journey towards her core to pay particular attention to the soft curve of her belly. She whined under every press of his lips against her stomach squirming impatiently under Sebastian with the need for him to fill the womb he worshipped so reverently. 

Sebastian pulled her hips sharply towards the edge of their bed dropping to his knees between her spread legs. Folds already glistening with unrestrained desire. Sebastian ran the tip of his nose through the sparse hairs. The heat of his breath teased against her growing slick. Shivering with anticipation her hips bucked craving - no, needing Sebastian to provide relief to the ache between her legs. 

“Sebastian - please,” she whined. 

“Impatient,” he scolded. Despite his own clothed erection strained against his trousers twitching desperate to be buried inside his wife’s impossibly tight core. But to Sebastian there no more perfect sight than her laid out before him. Bare, flushed and eyes darkened with desire. A nymph from some Greek tragedy he hadn’t tamed; rather merely a disciple come to worship at her altar. “Such a good girl. Already so wet for me.”

Her fingers tangled harshly in his hair hips bucking as Sebastian at last ended her torment. Licking a broad stripe with the flat of his tongue across her weeping entrance. Her head fell back in a broken whine finally relieving her from her torture. Sebastian released a  groan of his own against her folds, lapping more needly at the growing slick. Savouring every drop she offered him. A man lost in a desert and her his bountiful oasis.

He knew her body better than he knew his own. Chasing her keening mewls a wordless plea for more, pleasure only he could offer her as he flicked and curled his tongue against the hooded bundle of nerves. Releasing his grip on her hip to slide his fingers into her tight heat. Savouring how her fluttering walls gripped him as he worked her open with every pump and curl of his fingers.

Her back arched, legs shaking the cool satin sheets scrunched in her fists as she writhed in ecstasy. Clinging desperately to them a last bastion of as she teetered on the edge of oblivion.

He chanced a glance up at her, mouth still servicing her fervently. Their eyes locked her voice caught on a silent plea for release. Sebastian sucked. Devouring her quivering clit and she broke. 

Screaming curses and praise to forgotten deities her body jerking to grind frantically against his tongue. Sebastian’s hips rutted forward into nothingness as her body clenching around his fingers as he brought her to climax. His own need growing almost unbearable as he felt her dissolved into pleasure needing to feel that pulsing release around his cock not just his fingers. 

His patience was now paper thin, he needed to be inside of her and from the way her fingers tugged at his chestnut hair impatiently as her orgasm ebbed - she seemed to agree. 

Bed springs creaked as he crawled onto the bed beside her. He slid his hands along the dip of her waist gripping her soft flesh to flip her onto her stomach. 

She peering back at him from over her shoulder. Her lips were swollen, her hair in a wild tangle but her eyes burning into him as if she could set him alight - daring him to take her as she arched her hips up and back towards Sebastian. 

Gripping her side he bared down on her. Large body resting heavily against her back she curled up into him sighing contentedly at the feeling of his weight resting against her.

How many wizards had coveted her affection since their school days? Cursed the very ground Sebastian walked on because since the day she’d become his. His cock achingly hard grinding against her arse at the mere thought of her wearing the reminder to them all exactly who she belonged to under her dress. 

He scrambled with the buttons on his breeches before pulling them off entirely cock springing free arching proudly and achingly hard. Slit glistening in anticipation that coil inside of him already tightly wound at the mere thought of filling her.

"Going to fuck even more of my kids into you," he purred low in her ear as he settled himself between her legs dragging the head of his cock through her spit-slicked folds. Their nerves practically vibrating with carnal anticipation. 

She cried out, broken and rasping as Sebastian finally pressed into her with a strong deliberate thrust. Stretching her open inch by inch groaning low, his head falling against her back when he buried himself inside her to the hilt. The sheen of sweat coating her back salty on his tongue as he mouthed brainlessly at her bare flesh. 

“Fuck,” she hissed as Sebastian began to cant his hips in deep maddening strokes. He hadn't expected such a lustful fog to overcome him. Like some primitive part of his brain had overcome him and now he was entirely consumed with the thought of her. Filling her with seed.

His eyes flicked up catching their reflection in the mirror. Sebastian groaned her name as he watched himself pounding into her relentlessly. Tiny body nestled under his own her spine curved in pleasure but her face was buried in the sheets. Stifling the delicious sounds of ecstasy she only made for him into the mattress. 

Sebastian grunted in annoyance. Snapping his hips harder she only seemed to bit down harder on the sheets.

He didn’t just want her to feel him filling her with life; he wanted her to bear witness to it.

Tucking his arm around her waist he hauled her up flush against his body. Her yelp of surprise dissolving into a moan as the new angle had her sinking deeper onto his cock. Her back pressed against his chest she rolled her hips, eyelashes fluttering as his crown teased against her sweet spot. Sebastian curled a possessive hand around her throat to keep her upright. The other kneaded her breast, rolling the pert peak between his fingertips. 

Despite the utterly filthy position in which he took her. Sebastian’s hands were gentle, large arms cradling her body. He whispered sweet reverent praise and encouragement into her ear with every roll of her as she sought her pleasure.

“Look at you,” he whispered. Pressing a kiss to her temple coaxing her to look and witness how fucking perfect she was. Her eyes cracked open, gaze settling on the mirror in the corner of the room. Sebastian's reflection grinned at her. She blushed deeply at the sight but she made no move to cover herself. Eyes devouring the sight of her bare, legs spread wide and impaled on Sebastian's cock. 

“Fucking look at you.” He punctuated the statement with a sharp buck of his hips into her cunt.  

She whined desperately with every deep maddening thrust. She leaned back further into his embrace, head tipped back in a wanton moan but she didn't tear her eyes away. As if wishing to burn this moment into her mind. Cunt fluttering greedily around his cock, coaxing more slick onto his shaft. 

“Fuck- you're taking me so well. Do you- fuck. Feel how deep I am inside you?” Sebastian groaned at the slight swell of her stomach. He released her breast hand ghosting down the planes of her stomach. “I can feel you clenching around me - fuck . Feel where I'm going to fill you. Where you'll grow our child.”

He barely recognised the cadence of his voice, low gravelly more akin to a growl than anything human. He pressed a little harder onto her stomach. Feeling the head of his cock against his palm, he groaned. Forehead fell against the crook of her neck pumping into his palm as he ground into her with deep thrusts. Gently teasing his thumb over the blunt head through her soft stomach. 

She whined readily, shivering with pleasure sinking deeper onto his cock with every needy roll of her hips. Blood pounding in his ears Sebastian could feel the pressure mounting. He released his hold on her throat, taking hold of her hips so hard he knew even if his seed did not take her skin would still wear the marks for days.

Leaning back so she could rest against him, his toes curling in the sheets as he found purchase to thrust into her frantic. Her arm wrapped around his neck keening and whimpering with every strong thrust. 

“Please Seb- fuck. I need,” she rasped. Too deliriously close to the edge to tell him what she needed. What they both craved so desperately. 

“Tell me what you want, darling,” he grunted. Peppering kisses behind her ear, along the curve of her jaw. “Do you want me to come deep inside you? Breed you? Make you mine again?”

“Yes. Gods. Yes!”

“Tell- tell me,” he grunted. Clutching her hips to pound up into her brutally. The coil inside of him tightened, feeling his release rushing in. Visions narrowing and cock twitching eagerly. “Tell me how much you want it.”

“I-I want your seed. Your baby. You. Please, Seb- fuck,” she cried out. 

Deft fingers found her clit. Still so sensitive from how he’d already made her quake. Sebastian circled the swollen nub and her head tipped back in a husky moan. Grinding her hips against him, Glistening with a thin sheen of sweat everywhere their bodies were intertwined. 

“You're going to look so perfect. So bloody beautiful carrying our child. My child.”

She gasped as that familiar feeling pooled in her core. “Fuck- Seb please. I'm close.” 

“Fuck I can feel you. So tight - around my cock. Let go for me, my love. And I will ah - for you,” Sebastian groaned into the shell of her ear. 

Despite his vision blurring as Sebastian teetered so close to the edge of nirvana, he couldn't tear his eyes from their reflection. He doubted there was a more mesmerising and all-consuming sight than watching her come completely undone. Head tipped back all words stolen by how expertly he fucked her so a tune to her body. Beads of sweat clung to every curve and dip on her. 

Shimmering. Beautiful. His .

Teasing faster circles over her still-swollen clit. Bucking into her hard and faster. Biting down on his lip so hard he tasted the metallic tang of blood on his tongue as he desperately held back his release. A final uneven snap of his hips burying his cock deep inside her climax broke. 

She cried out suddenly; a clap of thunder announcing a storm. Like the heavens split apart and she submitted to drown in the waves of her pleasure. Nails clawing against his shoulder. Cunt tightened and spasmed as she sucked him in impossibly deeper as Sebastian followed her. Pulling her hips down as her came hard. 

Her name and filthy praise erupted from his lips in a sound he could only liken to a primal whine. Spilling his seed hot and purposeful into the deepest part of her channel. Grinding against her arse, Sebastian milked every last drop from his pulsing cock. 

Willing it to take root. 

Her body slumped against him boneless but every nerve alight and still shivering from the last throws of pleasure as her orgasm ebbed. Rasping in broken pants as she tried to recapture her stolen breath.

He kissed her cheek, tender, lovingly and with as much gentleness as Sebastian could muster with how he practically rattled with how hard his heart was hammering against his ribs; he shifted strong arms guiding her onto her side. Cock still sheathed inside of her. Unwilling to remove himself from her his mind still overcome and entirely consumed with the need to fill her with life.

Sebastian pushed his release deeper inside her with shallow thrusts. She whimpered hips bucking away from the overstimulation of the motion. He peppered soft apologetic kisses across the small bruises beginning to bloom around her throat wrapping his arms around her and cradling her body to him tighter. But Sebastian held firm. Hand pressing against her stomach a silent prayer. Willing his seed to take. 

"I love you. You're going to look so beautiful. Full of my baby," he cooed, with a languid roll of his hips. Tucking her a sweaty lock of tangled hair behind her ear. She sighed, angling her face to meet his gaze. Dishevelled. Swollen lipped. Beautiful. Her soft crooked and familiar yet it still takes his breath away. 

He'd once thought the greatest thing he could do was burn the world for her. But now he knew - It was to build one. 

A life. A legacy. One that they forged and fought for together. Everything, as long as it was with her. 

Despite his efforts to keep her full of him, he could already feel it leaking out around his shaft, hot and slick, coating her thighs. The crown of his cock dragged over her sweet spot before pushing his further in. “In fact - why stop at one this time? Twins do run in my family.”

“I don't think that's how it works-” she stuttered. But her core clenched greedily around his cock. Still stiff and firmly inside of her, it twitched with approval. 

“Care to test the theory?”

[dramioneasks]

Just recommending until the ink runs dry by Acciomjolnir - great fic

Thanks!

Until The Ink Runs Dry - AccioMjolnir - T, 10 chapters -

Granger,

Your mistake is assuming I have better angels at all.

-D.M.

[sadnymi]

「 ✦ No time to die. ✦ 」

Tom riddle x reader

Summary: Blind devotion. That's what it had been. For years, I'd been hopelessly enamored with Tom Riddle, his charm and intellect blinding me to the crimson flags that fluttered in the periphery. I ignored the whispers, the unease that gnawed at the edges of my comfort. He was Tom, my Tom, and love, I believed, conquered all.Then, the truth shattered my carefully constructed world. I stumbled upon his darkest secret , But even with the truth laid bare, the question remained: would he let me go?

Warnings: smut ,angst,strong language

Words:3,7k

The crisp autumn air whipped at my cheeks as I practically skipped back to Tom's.We'd spent the past year inseparable, and it was the happiest I'd ever been. He was everything I ever dreamed of – My entire life felt like a love letter to Tom Riddle.

Reaching the front door, a surge of anticipation bubbled up inside me. I fumbled with my key, eager to surprise Tom with my return. As I pushed the door open, the sound of hushed voices drifted from the sitting room. My smile faltered.

One voice, Tom's, smooth and familiar, the other, sharper, belonged to Avery. Curiosity tugged at me, so I tiptoed closer, pressing my ear against the partially closed door.

"Don't go soft now, Tom," Avery drawled. "We all know she's just part of your plan, right?"

A cold dread slithered down my spine. "She's useful, Avery," Tom replied, his voice devoid of the warmth he usually reserved for me. "She's the brightest witch in her year, and her understanding of Hogwarts will be invaluable. Besides," he added, a chilling nonchalance in his tone, "I know what I'm doing."

My heart hammered against my ribs. What plan? What did he mean by 'useful'? The pieces of seemingly unconnected events slammed together in my mind - the "accidents" that plagued his rivals, the mysterious illness that sent a student to Azkaban – all the whispers I'd brushed aside.

A wave of nausea washed over me. The truth, stark and horrifying, slammed into me - Tom hadn't loved me. He'd used me.

Before I could react, the conversation ended abruptly. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the tears back. My hand trembled as I reached for the doorknob, the urge to flee the only thing driving me.

The door creaked open, revealing a startled Avery, who paled at the sight of me. He stammered something about leaving and practically bolted past me. My gaze darted to Tom, his face an unreadable mask.

The devastation was so profound, it felt like my world was shattering around me. The man I loved, the man I'd trusted with my heart, was a stranger – a monster.

I stumbled back, a strangled cry escaping my lips. Tom lunged for me, but I twisted away, my scream echoing in the empty house. Tears streamed down my face as I bolted past him, the need to escape overwhelming. He grabbed my arm, his grip surprisingly tight, but I fought back with a strength I didn't know I possessed.

“Don't touch me!" I screamed, yanking my arm away from his grasp. "How could you?" The words tumbled out, choked with betrayal. "All this time... you were just using me?"

Tom's eyes narrowed, but there was a flicker of something else in them – ? Regret? It didn't matter.

"You were the best witch in your year," he said, his voice tight. "I needed someone smart, someone who could understand Hogwarts, its secrets..."

His justifications fell on deaf ears. This wasn't the Tom I thought I knew. This was a stranger, a monster cloaked in the face of the boy I loved.

My struggle was useless. Tom's grip on my arm felt like iron, his face a mask of cold calculation that shattered the image of the boy I loved. "Stop moving," he hissed, his voice tight. "You're going to hurt yourself."

"Why?" I shrieked, the word raw with betrayal. "Why are you doing this?"

He didn't answer. The silence was deafening, filled only with the frantic thump of my heart. My pleas turned into a desperate mantra. "Why, Tom? Why?!"

He remained silent, his grip tightening a fraction. The pain spurred a fresh wave of fury. I screamed again, clawing at his arm, anything to break free. He finally reacted, hauling me off the ground with surprising ease.

"Let me go!" I screamed, my voice hoarse. "You're a monster!"

"I know, love," he said, the word a cruel mockery on his lips.

"Don't call me that! Let me go!"

Ignoring my pleas, he marched towards the door, his face a stony mask. Panic clawed at my throat. "Tom, don't," I choked out, my voice thick with tears.

Then, the world slammed shut. He yanked open the door and shoved me into a room I didn't recognize, He threw me onto the bed, my breath catching in my throat. But I was up in a flash, scrambling towards the door. "Tom, don't you dare!" I shrieked, my voice choked with tears.

"We will talk," he cut me off, his voice strangely calm considering the storm raging inside me. He reached down, his fingers brushing against mine. I recoiled as if burned.

The click of the lock echoed in the room like a death knell. Panic surged through me. I spun around, scrambling towards the windows, clawing at the latches. They were locked too. A strangled sob escaped my lips. Without my wand, I was trapped.

I slammed my fists against the door, the wood groaning under the impact. "Tom! Open the door!" I screamed, my voice hoarse. "You're a monster! I hate you! I will hate you to the day I die!"

My words echoed in the small room, bouncing off the walls. Tears streamed down my face, blurring my vision. "Why?" I sobbed, collapsing onto the floor. "Why did you do this to me, Tom? I really loved you."

The silence stretched on, broken only by my ragged breaths and the quiet tick of the clock on the wall. "Tom?" I croaked, my voice barely a whisper. But there was no answer. Just the relentless tick-tock, reminding me of the time slipping away,

Exhaustion eventually won over the battle raging in my heart. Sleep, even in this state of utter betrayal, felt like torture. Perhaps it was the screaming all night, or the relentless pleas I'd choked out until my voice was raw, but I drifted off into a restless slumber.

A feathery touch against my cheek, then a gentle hand combing through my hair, jolted me awake. I flinched back, scrambling away until the wooden bedframe pressed against my back.

"Don't touch me," I spat, pulling my knees to my chest, a fortress against the world – a world that had suddenly turned monstrous.

"Eat," he said, a neutral tone that sent shivers down my spine. There was food on the nightstand, a silent offering.

"I won't eat anything you offer," I spat back, defiance flickering through the haze of hurt. "Let me go."

A beat of silence stretched between us, taut with tension. Then, a single word, laced with a quiet command that sent a fresh wave of tears cascading down my face. "Eat."

The sound of my own sobs filled the room, a stark contrast to his forced composure. "Stop crying," he said, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice.

"I said stop crying!" he say, his voice louder this time. The sound of it shattered whatever fragile hope remained inside me.

But I couldn't stop. Tears blurred my vision, each one a silent scream of betrayal and heartbreak

. He reached out a hand, as if to comfort me, but I flinched away, pushing the tears back with the heels of my hands.

"I got you some clothes . Eat and change," he continued, his tone clipped.

Ignoring the food, I met his gaze with eyes filled with a pain that mirrored the wreckage in my heart. "And don't fucking hurt yourself again,"he spat, his gaze dropping to my hand. A jolt of surprise ran through me. He must have cleaned it sometime in the night.

I hadn't even noticed, or maybe I refused to acknowledge it. Looking across the room, I saw the shattered mirror and a single drop of crimson staining its surface. The realization hit me like a physical blow.

"Why? So you can kill me yourself? Like you did to this poor girl ?" I shouted, the accusation ripping from my throat.

"Watch your mouth, Y/n," he warned, his eyes hardening. The look in them brought a fresh wave of tears – tears not just of fear, but of a profound sadness.

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "Watch your mouth, Y/n," he warned, a dangerous glint in his eyes. The way he spoke to me wasn't just cold, it was cruel.

This couldn't be the same Tom who held me close every chance he got, who kissed me like I was the most precious thing in the world. This wasn't the boy I had loved almost my whole life.

"I look at you and I can't recognize you anymore," I choked out, my voice thick with emotion. "I don't even know who you are now."

He stared at me for a long moment, his face unreadable. Then, in a voice devoid of warmth, he finally spoke."Good," he said simply.

Two days bled into one another, a monotonous blur of misery. He'd stormed out of the room after our confrontation, leaving me alone with the deafening silence and the weight of his betrayal.

Each day followed the same cruel script. He'd reappear, a grim expression etched on his face, carrying a tray of food and fresh clothes. The clothes, once a thoughtful touch, now felt like a cruel mockery. A shower was a brief reprieve, the warm water washing away some of the physical grime, but the emotional scars remained raw and open.

Food sat untouched on the nightstand, the sight turning my stomach. The mere thought of putting anything past my lips filled me with a suffocating dread.

Each night, like clockwork, the anger arrived with him. The sight of the full dishes on the nightstand seemed to ignite a fire in his eyes. His voice, once a source of comfort, now dripped with icy contempt.

"You haven't eaten a single thing," he'd sneer, snatching the plate and tossing it onto the bedside table with a clatter. "Do you think this is a game?"

I'd remain silent, staring at the opposite wall, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

It was a constant reminder of the monster I now shared a room with, the man who wore the face of the boy I loved.

The morning light, harsh and unwelcome, streamed through the barred windows, but Tom was nowhere to be seen. My body ached, a dull throb echoing the pain in my heart. Tears, silent and warm, traced paths down my cheeks. Exhaustion gnawed at me, both physical and emotional.

Then, the sound of the lock clicking. I braced myself for Tom's usual stoicism, the anger simmering just beneath the surface. But it wasn't Tom who entered.

My heart lurched. Standing in the doorway were Avery and Lestrange. Once considered friends, their presence now sent a fresh wave of fear coursing through me. The trust, the camaraderie - shattered like the mirror in the room.

Lestrange approached the bed, his expression unreadable. "What are you doing?" I croaked, the words rough from disuse. He didn't answer, simply gripping my hand with surprising strength.

"Easy now, Y/n," Avery said, a placating tone lacing his voice. But the glint of a dagger in his hand shattered the facade. My eyes widened in horror. "Nothing personal."

Terror clawed at my throat. They were going to kill me. My mind raced, searching for a way out, but my voice came out a weak rasp, "No..."

"See, she understands," Lestrange said, his cold gaze unwavering."You know too much, And you've had enough time to decide. But you didn't."

"Decide what?" My vision blurred with fresh tears. Without Lestrange's support, I would have collapsed.

"To serve the Dark Lord," he replied.

"I... I don't understand," I whimpered, tears blurring my vision.

The Dark Lord? Who was that? My mind was a whirlwind of confusion, but before I could voice the question, Lestrange dragged me from the bed. I tried to fight back, but my body was a leaden weight.

"Sorry, Y/n," Avery muttered, his voice laced with a strange regret.

The Dark Lord? Who was he talking about? But before I could get another word out, a searing pain shot through my wrists as Lestrange twisted them behind my back.

"Get it over with, Avery," Lestrange muttered, a hint of annoyance lacing her voice. "I'm not enjoying this. She was my friend."

"No! No, Avery!" I screamed, my voice raw with terror as I thrashed against their hold. "Don't do this!"

"Just one swift cut, you won't feel a thing," Avery said, his voice cold and detached.

I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable.A choked sob escaped my lips. This couldn't be happening. Not like this.

But then, a voice ripped through the room, a voice I wouldn't have recognized if not for the flicker of something familiar in its depths.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

My eyes snapped open at the sound. Tom stood between me and Avery, his face a mask of fury. He twisted Avery's wrist with a sickening crack, the dagger clattering to the floor. In a swift movement, he pulled me from Lestrange's grip, holding me close.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice laced with a concern that sent a jolt through me. I shook my head, clinging to him as if my life depended on it. Maybe, in that moment, it did.

"She already knew too much, Tom," Avery whined, cradling his injured hand. "We thought it would be too much for you to do it yourself, so we decided..."

"And you thought wrong," Tom snarled, his voice icy. "You'll pay for this, both of you. Get out of my sight."

Avery and Lestrange exchanged a frightened glance before nodding hastily.

"Yes, my Lord," they chorused, their voices dripping with fear.

Lord? He was their Lord? He's... he's the Dark Lord? The weight of the revelation crashed down on me, shattering the remnants of the Tom I thought I knew.

"He… he called you… my Lord?" My voice trembled as the weight of the revelation crashed down on me.

He carried me gently off the ground, my strength completely gone.my body too weak to protest. I laid my head against his chest .

He settled me back onto the bed, his fingers gently brushing my hair away from my tear-streaked face., "Did they hurt you ,love ?" he asked, his voice soft, his touch a stark contrast to the cold fury I'd witnessed moments ago.

"Please don't hurt me," I stammered, fear still clinging to me like a shroud. "Please, Tom." The name tumbled from my lips, a plea laced with a shred of the hope I desperately wanted to believe in.

His face softened, a flicker of the Tom I knew battling with the darkness lurking in his eyes. "I will never hurt you," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm to my raw nerves.

But the words felt hollow. "I don't believe you," I choked out, a sob escaping my lips. "It hurts too much."

He didn't try to deny it. "I know," he whispered, his own voice thick with emotion.

He ignored my resistance when he began feeding me, his touch surprisingly gentle. He even helped me change, discarding the tear-stained shirt for a clean one. But I remained silent, a shell of the girl I once was.

The terror still gnawed at me, manifesting in flinches and skittish glances. Every rustle, every creak of the floorboards sent a jolt of fear through me. The nightmare I'd lived through seemed burned into my memory.

Finally, the silence stretched too thin. "Will you kill me?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. The question hung heavy in the air, a test.

His eyes widened, a flicker of genuine pain crossing his face. "No," he said, his voice firm.

"You lied to me," I accused him, my voice flat with a cold anger.

He didn't argue. "Yes," he conceded.

"You used me," I spat, the words laced with hurt.

"I did," he repeated, his voice barely a whisper.

"You hurt me," I whispered, the words heavy with betrayal.

"You said you loved me," I said, tears welling up in my eyes again.

He met my gaze, his eyes filled with a storm of emotions. "I do," he said, his voice thick with a desperation that tugged at my heartstrings. "I do,"

"I was conceived under a love potion," he admitted, his voice laced with a bitterness I hadn't heard before. "My mother used it on my father. They say that's why I'm incapable of feeling love."

He took my hand, his fingers cool against my skin, and pressed it to his chest. The steady thump of his heartbeat echoed beneath my palm, a powerful counterpoint to the erratic drumbeat in my chest.

"But now it beats," he continued, "For you. Just for you."

His words hung in the air, heavy and unbelievable. A love potion? A life devoid of love?How could this be? Everything I thought I knew about him, about love, was crumbling around me.

Tears streamed down my face, blurring my vision. He'd said he loved me before, a million times, but this was different. This was raw, unfiltered, a torrent of emotion that resonated in the very core of my being.

"And you thought I would hurt you?" he asked. "Kill you? You, the best thing I have ever had, the only thing I truly care about in this stupid world? Y/n, you, my darling, are the only person I love, I didn’t mean a word from what I said I don’t trust anyone enough to show them my weakness, I would burn this world down to a cinder for you."

His words were fierce, possessive, yet laced with a tenderness I'd never known existed within him.

"I'm not lying," he said, his gaze searching my tear-filled eyes. "I was at first. Having you by my side was a strategic move. You're smart, brilliant, innocent, someone I could mold to my cause. But you turned the tables. You, without even trying, made me feel something I never thought possible – love for you. Something they said was impossible. And you know what? losing doesn't feel like defeat. It feels like the greatest victory."

"It’s impossible they say ," he said, a bitter edge to his voice. "But look at me now." He looked down at our hands clasped together, then back up at me, his gaze searching my wet face.

My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs, mirroring the beat beneath my hand.

"How can I believe you, Tom?" I finally managed, the question a mere whisper lost in the storm of emotions raging within me.

His gaze softened, the coldness replaced by a desperate vulnerability. He leaned closer, his eyes searching mine. "Because," he murmured, his voice a husky caress, "from this moment on, I'll spend every waking breath proving it."

His lips brushed against mine,he kissed me, softly at first, his lips brushing against mine in a gentle plea. my body relaxing into his touch.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips, seeking entrance. I opened to him, welcoming him inside. He tasted like coffee and mint, and something deeper, something that teased him only him, something that made my heart clench with longing.

He pulled away, his forehead resting against mine, our breaths mingling in the quiet room.

" you're mine, and i take care of what belongs to me. ," he whispered, his thumb tracing the curve of my cheek.

I believed him, in that moment, I truly did. I could see the love in his eyes, the sincerity in his words.

He laid me down, his body covering mine. His lips found mine again, his kiss slow, deliberate, as if memorizing every inch of me.

His hands roamed my body, his touch setting my skin on fire. He cupped my breasts, his thumbs brushing my nipples through the fabric of my shirt. I arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping my lips.

He pulled my shirt over my head, his eyes darkening as he took in my bare breasts. He leaned down, his mouth closing around one nipple, his tongue swirling around the hard peak. I cried out, my fingers tangling in his hair.

He moved to the other breast, giving it the same attention. His hand moved lower, his fingers finding the waistband of my pants. He looked up at me, his eyes questioning. I nodded, giving him permission.

He pulled my pants down, his eyes taking in my bare legs, my lace panties. He hooked his fingers in the waistband, pulling them down slowly.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, his fingers tracing the curve of my hip.He leaned down, his lips pressing against my inner thigh. "And all mine," he added, his voice full of reverence.

He moved higher, his lips brushing against my core. I gasped, my hips bucking up towards him. He took his time, his tongue exploring every inch of me. I was panting, my fingers clutching at the sheets. He looked up at me, his eyes full of lust. "You taste like heaven," he said, his voice full of pride. He held me down, his hands on my hips, his mouth working me to the brink.

He looked up at me, his eyes filled with desire. "i got you, come for me, my love," he whispered. And I did, my orgasm crashing over me like a wave. I cried out his name, my fingers tangled in his hair. He continued to lick and suck, drawing out every last bit of pleasure.

He moved up my body, his mouth finding mine again. I could taste myself on his lips, and it only made me want him more.

I could feel his hard length pressing against me. He reached into his bedside table, pulling out a condom. He rolled it on, his eyes never leaving mine. He positioned himself at my entrance, his eyes full of love and desire. "Use our safeword if you need to." he whispered, his voice full of promise.

He pushed inside me, filling me completely. I cried out, my nails digging into his back. He started to move, his pace slow and deliberate, I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside me.

He picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming harder and faster. I could feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge. He reached down, his fingers finding my clit. He rubbed slow circles, his touch sending me over the edge. “scream my name while you cum” He say , I cried out, my orgasm rushing through me. He thrust into me a few more times before finding his own release.

He collapsed on top of me, his breathing heavy. He rolled off, pulling me into his arms. "I love you," he whispered, his lips pressing against my forehead. "No one will ever hurt you again, not as long as I'm here." His words were laced with a chilling intensity, a darkness I couldn't ignore.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

[alarainai]

currently thinking about sirius coming back to grimmauld place after azkaban, going to reggie's room for closure and finding hundreds of unsent letters addressed to him instead