thekqipond

[thekqipond]

DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER NINE

09 : REPUTATION

CHPT. SUM. : Sirius and his close friends build up a reputation at school leading up to their return home for the winter holidays 

LENGTH : 10.7k

TAGS : domestic fluff ; marauders origins ; pranking shenanigans ; james is crushing hard ; reunited ; sirius comes home for the holidays! ; investigations lead to a shocking discovery

← PREV. 08 : PASTRIES | SERIES M.LIST

9th October 1971 | 12 Grimmauld Place

You didn’t need to help Ruth or Damocles on Saturdays or Saturdays as they strictly wanted to keep the weekends to themselves. They've also been feeling very guilty about taking too much of your time. You argued against it but appreciated that they understood how important it was for them to spend time with each other and for you to spend time with your son. Regulus wasn’t one to complain, either. He loved spending time at the Potions shop and talking with Ruth, but he loved spending time with his mother most. Regulus often stayed in the study with you, reading, drawing or chatting while you worked at your desk. Sometimes, you’d write letters to Sirius together, talking about mundane things that happened throughout your day or week.

Surprisingly, you haven’t heard of any mischief from Sirius. You’re confident that he and the marauders would already be causing some sort of trouble, so you were quite confused. However, whenever you look at Regulus reading Sirius’ letters with such concentration and a hidden smile, his eyes glittering with excitement, you can hazard a guess as to why your letters are much milder than the ones Regulus seems to receive from his brother. You suppose Sirius doesn’t want to out himself as being a troublemaker in school. And, although you appreciate his consideration of you and his want to come across as a well-behaved son, you’re itching to know about all the trouble he’s caused. The fandom hardly knows anything about the Marauders and, now that you have the chance to know what they were up to personally, you’re eager to be let in on all of their secrets.

Nevertheless, after a mostly quiet day with Regulus spent on decorating the halls and rooms of the house with the dried lavender sprigs you had bought off of the Belby’s, you leave him to his own devices before dinner while you investigate the parlour room once more. You’ve left it too long out of your own cowardice and fear. Confrontations were something you were used to, but more so in the business sense; however, this was something entirely new to you. Walburga was the proud matriarch of the ancient and most noble house of Black. Her reputation made the room and its appalling contents all the more concerning. Dark magic was definitely at play, something you had no experience in, and confronting that will always be terrifying to you. Regardless, you remember spotting some books strewn about the room and in your search for answers to help Belby with the Wolfsbane potion, you were willing to get your hands on those books for the research. It’ll be like hitting two birds with one stone; your investigations will also bring you closer to figuring out what the original Walburga was up to.

Taking a breath, you absorb the sound of the grandfather clock striking 5 pm and watch as the secret parlour entrance appears before you once more. This time, you know what to expect, so you came prepared with some spells in mind as well as something to cover the sacrilegious, bloody ritual placed at the very centre of the room. You open the door and wrinkle your nose. It’s dark and musty. With a swish of your wand and a small incantation uttered under your breath, you will the wall lamps to liven up the space with a warm glow. You step in as the heavy doors shut behind you and frown at the dismal room despite the lamps’ touch of light. This time, you aim your spell onto the heavy curtains across the room. The thick, heavy drapes gently pull apart, allowing sunlight to flood the space, and you happily go about fixing up the disorderly area. First, you open the window, encouraging the fresh breeze to sweep inside and wash away the old mustiness suspended in the air.

Tidying up where you can, you leave the central ritual largely untouched, wanting to investigate it later on. The rotting owl carcass was the only thing you handled, magicking it away and relishing in the peace that floods you as soon as it disappears. That poor creature must have suffered a lot from Walburga’s hands; you felt horrible for simply throwing it away, but the suffering and poor intentions it symbolised were too overwhelming to ignore and keep. If you wanted to be productive about the room, it needed to go. Other than that, your main objective was the books and the loose pages that were carelessly strewn about. With a helpful swish of your wand, you collect all the papers and books into neat piles. Another flick shrinks them to a miniature size that you step forth to easily pocket.

That’ll do for now.

Satisfied, you hurry out of the room and shut the door firmly behind you after turning the lamps off and shutting the windows. Despite the rotten owl carcass being gone, the claustrophobia clung to you like a parasite unwilling to part. It weighed heavily on your form and made breathing far too difficult to withstand for a long period despite the fresh air filtering in. You’ll happily investigate the books and pages in your home office. It’ll help to analyse your evidence with a clear mind and in a space you can easily associate with unfaltering focus.

Shaking off the bad energy that still clung to you from the parlour, you make your way into your home office and take a seat behind your desk. The strange fact about these books, you find, is that all except one don’t have any distinguishing covers. The only book with a cover was the one left wide open at the centre of the writing desk and had its pages scornfully ripped out. Tracing the vintage leather cover of the defiled book, you frown at its obsolete title. These were symbols you couldn’t read, and you dread to think that the pages were written with the same indecipherable words. Flicking through the pages, a brief examination, you groan.

“Great...” you sigh at the offending symbols that stare at you mockingly from the decrepit pages of the ancient book. As you suspected, the book’s contents were also written in the same illegible language as the front cover’s title. Until you can find a way to decode the foreign language, you’ll keep the book and its loose pages in an empty drawer at your desk, one with a helpful little lock on it. Optimistically, you hope that the blank-covered books didn’t have the same issue. The random book you grab weighs heavy in your hands but in an oddly familiar way. Peculiar… Thinking nothing of it, you flick to the first page and gasp.

‘CHAPTER ONE’

‘OWL POST’

‘Harry Potter was a highly unusual boy in many ways. For one thing...’ This was the third Harry Potter book — one of your favourites in the series.

With a shake of your head, you hurriedly flick through the pages as the pebble in your stomach grows into a boulder and fixes you to your chair. Rushing to open another book, you’re, again, met with more familiar passages from the beloved book series you grew up loving and often turned to for comfort in your adult years. All seven blank-covered books were the seven full books from the Harry Potter series! You think you’re going to be sick… she had the books… Walburga had the bloody Harry Potter books! How did she get them?!

“You’re unusually quiet today, Walburga...” you utter to yourself, urging the standardly shrieking witch in the back of your mind to step up and answer your racing questions. “I know you’re in there somewhere. Are you scared I found you out? What were you planning to do with all this new information, huh?” You drum your nervous fingers along one of the book’s blank hard covers.

“Well?!…” you wait for a response you weren’t going to receive, “Answer. Me. You. Ugly. Scheming. Pretentious. Bitch of a mother!” you spit and grit through your clenching teeth, trying your best not to raise your voice too loud. Getting Regulus or Orion’s attention now wouldn’t be ideal. You don’t know how long you wait for a response, but it was clear that you weren’t going to receive any. Begrudgingly, you lock away the Harry Potter books as well, ensuring that they couldn’t be accessed without a key; if these books got into the wrong hands, it wouldn’t end well for anybody, lest the very characters you were fighting for. What a heavy burden this will be.

There was a positive to this, however. You can rely on these books for information on the world and the Horcruxes.

16th October 1971 | Hogwarts, Gryffindor Common Room

Sirius couldn’t believe how content he felt in his current environment. He worried that with the recent changes at home, he would miss being with Regulus and his newly changed mother; however, due to the constant stream of letters they exchanged, he lacked that sense of homesickness. And, although he spent the same amount of time on writing letters back as he did writing up his homework, leaving his wrist terribly exhausted, he was content.

Hogwarts and Gryffindor house had become his second home, especially with the people he had surrounded himself with and the few he established as his close friends, especially James. Unlike his brotherhood with Regulus, Sirius had found a camaraderie with James that isn’t based on any blood relation, making their immediate bond that much more special to him. They veer to one another like binary stars, both gravitationally bound and orbiting each other. Sirius, with his aristocratic upbringing and rebellious nature; James, with his untamed energy and proneness for attracting the attention of those around him. However, it wasn’t only them. There was Remus, their shy and quiet friend with bibliophile tendencies. Sirius found that the best way to get him talking was to speak on books, something he was well-versed in, thanks to Regulus. And then, there was Peter, who made his eagerness to be part of the group known, always trailing after them, cracking his hilariously unfunny jokes, enchanted by James and Sirius’ boundless charisma, desperate to replicate it and make it his own, while also captivated by Remus’ smarts and bookishness, always looking to him for academic inspiration.

The first couple of months consisted of typical school things, making friends, getting into a routine and indulging in education. However, after the trouble they had found themselves in when trying to follow Remus the night of that haunting full moon, the boys have grown a tendency to create and find trouble.

Late one evening, James and Sirius were taking advantage of the mostly deserted common room, observing the only other people there, a pair of older students arguing over a wizarding chessboard. With a cheeky smirk and his round glasses slipping down his nose, James leaned over to whisper in Sirius’ ear, “Do you know what would make this more entertaining?” When Sirius looks to his friend, he sees the contagious glimmer of mischief in his hazel eyes.

“What?” Sirius can feel the swell of impishness infect him and pull the edges of his own lips up into a smirk. He knows that, whatever James suggests, he’s going to like what he has to say.

“If their pieces started arguing back.” They share a silent, maniacal laugh between them, expressed purely through their eyes.

“Let’s do it!” Sirius whispered back with an air of eagerness. It was so tempting to laugh aloud, carefree and raucous, but he was wary of the prefect standing close by. “How did that animation spell go, again?”

Not knowing the spell wasn’t a big obstacle for the two, they remained undeterred and went to enlist Remus. Typical of their prim and proper friend, Remus looked horrified at the suggestion, but there was a level of intrigue in his eyes that Sirius eagerly pointed out and used to convince him enough to indulge them. Together, they scoured their charms books for potentially helpful spells and were pointed to the correct chapters by Remus. Peter, poor Peter, was also roped in for the extra labour, unable to resist James and Sirius’ convincing arguments and twinkling smirks. Remus sends the portly boy a disappointed look but blushes when Peter returns the same disappointment towards him as if to say, ‘You volunteered to help first, mate. Don’t look at me like that.’

‘Well, they targeted me first,’ was what was conveyed in the look Remus had sent him back. Nevertheless, it was all in good humour, and the two smiled about it to themselves for a moment before Sirius and James complained that they were hardly helping and pushed their noses down into the pages with them. It took several nights, but they believed they had found the perfect spell. Thankfully, the two argumentative Gryffindors routinely played their game of chess on weekend evenings. James and Sirius practised the spell several times in their dorm room before they were confident in its execution. On the day of their grand chessboard prank, Peter stood by the Prefect on duty, nervously keeping watch as Remus pretended to read a book by the fireplace, and James and Sirius went in for their rehearsed stunt.

Despite their endless practice, however, their first attempt was a disaster! Rather than the pawns coming to life, James pointed the incantation and made it explode instead. The chess piece went out with a puff of black smoke. The only thing left of was its sooty remains, forever marking the chessboard. As the two chess players gasped at the sudden explosion and argued to death, firing accusations at the other for being the one to make it happen, Sirius shook his head disapprovingly.

“Brilliant one, James,” Sirius sarcastically comments, clapping his friend on the shoulder as he grumbles to himself. “We’ll try again, though. And we won’t stop until there’s success.”

Not so easily dissuaded, the two continued their attempts until the chess pieces became an incoherent mess of chatter that rivalled the chess players’ own arguments. It had become such a recurring spectacle that the common area had gradually filled up with other students throughout the weeks, eyeing the chess game for anything interesting that had been rumoured to happen. However, in their attempt at success, they had abandoned all caution for getting caught in the act, leaving them face to face with a very unamused, very irate fifth-year with flaring nostrils.

“Why don’t you find something more productive to do with your time?” the fifth-year lashes out, barely able to contain their irritation. “This isn’t very funny!”

“Au Contraire~ my friend,” Sirius sings playfully as James chuckles beside him, “It was very funny, right guys?” he asks the audience, who cheer wildly, prompting him and James to bow at the waist. Both were happy to provide the entertainment of the night. From his usual seat at the fireplace, Remus rolls his eyes but hides his smirk behind his book as Peter snickers to himself, quite proud of having participated in the background.

And so began the group’s reign of harmless, silly pranks. In the following weeks, the Gryffindor common room became the group’s testing facility for experiments, much to the amusement and irritation of their fellow Gryffindor housemates. It was a double-edged sword; they managed to earn equal amounts of love and abhor for their efforts.

One week, they had enchanted the cushions into making flatulent sounds whenever someone sat down, a surprising suggestion from Remus, who was well-versed in muggle pranks and had introduced them to the concept of a whoopie-cushion. Another week, they enchanted pages to appear blank in borrowed books from the library that were haphazardly left out, a lesson they wanted to teach those who were careless with books in Remus’ place. Another evening, they had enchanted the dining hall goblets to sing ‘God Save the Queen’ whenever someone tried to take a sip of their pumpkin juice, pushing everyone to drink simple water instead. The pranks weren’t sophisticated, but it was enough that they managed to draw out waves upon waves of laughter from their peers and even some teachers. Professor Flitwick was especially impressed with the prank purely from a charm-casting perspective. Remus, however, was stubbornly pouty about the whole thing, constantly muttering on about how irresponsible and silly they were being.

“Come on, Lupin,” James pleads playfully, cosying up beside the bookish brunette, “You can’t deny helping us with that chessboard prank. Don’t pretend you’re above it. Why, I’d go so far as to say that you’d be quite brilliant if you actually put in the effort. You’d have Sirius and me beat!”

Remus buries his nose further into his book, avoiding the contagious mischief in his friends’ hazel eyes, “I only helped because leaving you two to your own devices only spells trouble,” he huffs, lowering his voice to murmur to himself, “you would have blown up the entire common room, otherwise…”

“Exactly!” Sirius claps and points to Remus, settling down on his other side and draping an arm over his shoulders, “You’re morally obligated to keep us from doing something truly catastrophic. You’re the good to our bad Lupin—”

“So you admit that what you did is bad.”

“And you admit that you’re doing the good~” Sirius was such a stubborn wall. “Consider it a public service.”

“Oh, don’t roll your eyes again at us; do that too often, and they’ll get stuck back there—” James comments off-handedly but comes to a stuttering stop when a devious thought comes to mind, “Say... there’s an idea~”

“No, James! No!” Remus protests, quickly purging the thought of yet another prank from James’ mind. He knew exactly where James’ thoughts were trailing towards from his words, and he didn’t like the notion one bit! Peter snickers to himself with Sirius at the display. James held his hands in surrender as Remus pointed a narrowed stare at him, a silent warning against committing such a cruel prank.

Soon enough, however, Remus also became a willing participant. At the ripe age of eleven years, he was more fascinated than repelled by James and Sirius’ creative antics, stemming from the perversity of James’ natural prankster nature and glamourised by Sirius’ likeness to flamboyance, giving the otherwise amateurish pranks a vivacious flare. It wasn’t only Remus, however; Peter was also roped in, easily swayed by his friends’ characters, somewhat addicted to pleasing them and being part of the group.

While James and Sirius spearheaded the misbehaviour, coming up with endless pranks, Remus suggested they set aside a separate notebook to document every idea, establishing himself as the group’s moderator. He was the one to suggest modifying elements of their plans and encouraging them to test the spells beforehand, personally doing so himself most of the time. Meanwhile, Peter had the space to become emboldened by James and Sirius’ encouragement. However, there remained a hesitance that Remus deeply understood in Peter whenever their portly friend pulled away from playing any of the daring roles in their schemes.

“Sirius and James are better for it,” Peter excused and was happy for his excuse to be so easily accepted.

Their dynamic was gradually being set: James and Sirius were the primary driving forces, dubbing them the ringleaders by many. They were constantly pouring out their many prank ideas into the notebook Remus had provided them with. Remus was the strategist who safeguarded their plans and affiliated spells. He liked to think that he was doing public service, ensuring that his friends didn’t get carried away and making certain that their plans didn’t spiral out of control. Leaving Peter as the loyal accomplice, always the first one to step up and prove his willingness to share in the daringness and mischief. They had become a solid group with a mounting reputation of being equal irritants and entertainers to the professors and students. Their friendship was ossified by shared laughter and devious plots whispered amongst them, their loyalties to each other as hard as diamonds.

Other than their pranks, however, James had other occupations, one that flooded his mind with the image of a beautiful red-haired girl, who had the most striking emerald eyes. Her name: is Lily Evans. As beautiful as the flower of her namesake. He was smitten the instant he saw her on the platform, smiling widely, her eyes sparkling with rapture as she waved her family goodbye and stepped onto the train with her luggage. Not only was she the most beautiful girl James had ever laid eyes on, but she was also brilliant. As a muggleborn, he didn’t expect her to be so bright and well-read on the wizarding world, but that only made him fall even deeper for her. In one of their early Potion classes, she had brewed the cure for boils with such effortless grace that their potions professor (Professor Slughorn) was brimming with pride, his eyes taking a shine to her already. James, on the other hand, wasn’t so talented. Despite his father’s success in potions, he had managed the impossible task of melting his cauldron, which earned him a thorough scolding from Professor Slughorn. He had been so distracted by the red-haired beauty in his periphery, that he barely registered the heat of the fire, and Peter was too hesitant to voice anything. From across the room, Sirius and Remus snickered under their breaths at him, earning them a narrowed gaze, but what had killed James was the unimpressed look Lily had sent his way.

So much for a good first impression.

As determined as he was to succeed with his pranks, however, James had the same stubbornness when it came to his newfound love. No, this wasn’t a mere crush; this was love. The same love his parents shared and were never shy about displaying. He wanted a soft, everlasting love like them, and he knew— deep down —he knew that it had to be with Lily Evans.

From afar, he watched her with longing, adoring eyes, admiring her subtle habits and dazzling smile, blown away by her viridescent stare. Her laughter easily fills up a room, and he finds himself eager to draw out as much of the sweet sound from her as possible. However, there was a conflicting emotion when James quickly realised the astonishing amount of time she spent with Severus Snape, a Slytherin boy with greasy black hair, paper-pale skin and dark, dark eyes. They appeared to share an interest in potions, always becoming the most efficient potion partners whenever they shared a potions class with the Slytherins. However, that doesn’t account for how often James sees them together outside of class, this simple fact making a bitter dislike fester from deep inside him, immediately and viscerally so.

“What does she even see in him?” James scoffs, muttering to himself resentfully as he struggles to come up with any new pranks; his mind is too preoccupied. Even the heat of the fireplace couldn’t tempt him into indulging in the cosy atmosphere that evening.

Sirius, who had been plotting beside him, shrugged, “Maybe Evans just has a thing for greasy hair.”

James makes a disgusted face, “No way! Not her,” he refuses to believe she would have such an unorthodox preference, “I’m going to do something about it,” Sirius raises a brow in silent question, his interest piqued; he’s always up for a good prank, no matter the target. With a devilish smirk, James pulled Sirius in by the shoulders, and the two began to scheme.

The following morning, it quickly became known that the Slytherin table was bewitched. Another prank. Whenever someone tried to eat their breakfast, their utensils flew out of their hands in protest and began sword fighting on the table. It caused such a ruckus that James and Sirius earned themselves a week’s long detention, but James couldn’t care less. Despite seeing her supposed friend’s misery from across the table, the defeated look Snape had sent her was enough to make Lily Evans laugh—really laugh— the sound so beautiful and twinkling like the stars, James felt no guilt. That was his reward, and it trumped any punishment. He would do it again and again just to hear her laugh once more.

The Christmas holidays were fast approaching, and the boys had made quite the reputation of themselves, their pranks only having grown bolder as the days went by. It was equally exciting and apprehensive all at once to everyone except the four, as anybody could be their potential, new ‘victim’. Even professors weren’t exempt from their schemes; McGonagall could attest to that when she had to suffer having vivid blue hair for an entire afternoon following an ‘accidental’ charm they had cast during her transfiguration class. That wasn’t escaping her, however, and they landed themselves another evening of detention with Filch.

Despite the chaos they caused, however, it was never mean-spirited. The end goal for their antics was always laughter. James was adamant about earning it from Lily Evans, his love. Sirius was adamant about earning it for himself, wanting the most from his school experience away from home, just so he always had something to write to Regulus about. Remus was adamant about ensuring that everybody was laughing, holding onto the belief that the pranks weren’t funny if only a select few had the privilege to laugh. And Peter was just happy to be surrounded by laughter and high spirits. The group’s ‘prankster’ reputation was sealed. They had fostered an unbreakable brotherhood.

James still had a long way to go before he even had the chance to earn Lily’s affection and heart. But, for the moment, he was content with the brothers he had found and bonded with, brothers he didn’t have the pleasure of growing up beside but eventually managed to find in his dorm mates and friends.

18th December 1971 | Hogwarts, Dining hall

Sirius was eager to get to breakfast, and considering James was the only morning person around, the two of them went to the dining hall at a good time despite it being the weekend. Remus and Peter weren’t as willing to get an early breakfast; however, favouring sleep and groggily ushered the other two away, promising they’d meet them at the dining all in their own time.

“Just save our seats,” Remus asked them to promise, his voice dripping with sleep.

“Funny how you’re not the typical morning person on the weekdays,” James begins after stretching his arms up and giving a resounding groan, “but you always get really excited whenever it’s Saturday morning.” Despite stating this, it was obvious what James was getting at.

“Oh, shut it,” Sirius huffs with a roll of his eyes, “it’s just routine, is all.” The eldest Black brother didn’t lie. It was routine for your letters to arrive on Saturdays, whereas Regulus liked to keep a steady flow of letters coming throughout the week. Although this could demonstrate a lack of interest on your part, Sirius understood that you were busy with the household and taking care of Regulus; he was only happy that you had yet to miss a single week. That amount of dedication was more than enough for him. He’s also very happy about the news he received from you and his favourite uncle, Alphard. His uncle had expressed his concerns in letters following his sorting ceremony, but Sirius was quick to reassure him, promising that his mother was just as happy about his sorting as he was. Sirius could tell that his Uncle wasn’t convinced and patiently awaited the day he would see for himself that his mother had changed for the better. And what a brilliant day that was. He received letters immediately from Regulus and his Uncle. he had to wait for his mother’s Saturday letter, but the good news was consistent throughout the different dialogues, proving its truth.

Good news seemed to be the only thing Sirius reads in the letters he receives from home. And he’d like to reciprocate that, especially for his mother. He wants to do well by her despite her assurances that she will always love and support him no matter what. He omits a large portion of his letters’ contents for you, not out of malice but in consideration for your standing as his mother. You’ve made such a turnaround for him and Regulus, he owes it to you to be a good student. So he writes all about his good grades and excellence in class, especially for his flying lessons, where things could easily become dangerous. He wouldn’t dare write a single word to you about the amount of mischief he and the boys have been up to. Yes, he felt guilty, but he was only sparing you the worry. He wasn’t even the only one omitting such details; he knows for a fact that James, Peter and Remus were also doing the same.

“Finally, breakfast!” Sirius regales, sitting at his usual seat and quickly piling up his plate. James, who sat across from him, mirrored his actions with the same amount of enthusiasm. Both had a bottomless pit for a stomach, a similarity they enjoyed sharing. They enjoyed sharing many similarities, actually, differences too. All throughout breakfast, James would see Sirius look up constantly, searching the enchanted ceilings for any owls, his eyes sharpening and glowing with eagerness at the sight of a familiar gold ribbon that would streak through the air with a letter written just for him.

“Mother’s letter~” James says in a mocking, airy tone, mimicking his friend’s common practice as soon as he receives a familiar, wax-sealed envelope addressed to him in your swirling handwriting.

“Bugger off, James!” Sirius laughs, playfully kicking his friend in the shin from beneath the table, earning a small exclamation of pain. But the grins on their faces haven’t slipped off. This was normal teasing, not worth getting offended over; a great way to start their day.

“What does it say?” James asks through a mouthful of toast, butter and strawberry jam — he's almost completely incoherent.

“Like I’d tell you.” Sirius rolls his eyes, unfurling the letter within and reading to himself with a smile. In his head, he imagines your voice reading the words to him personally. He often does this. He does it for your letters, for Regulus’ and for his Uncle Alphard’s too.

‘My dearest son, Sirius,’ He smiles at your usual opening. It never fails to make his chest flood with warmth at your affectionate address. He still can’t believe he receives such letters from you despite not being in Slytherin. You were once so adamant that he be sorted into the House of Snakes, but not anymore, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Because, you not caring about which house he gets into, shows that you accept him for him, and that’s all he could ever wish for.

‘It’s not long now until you come home. We all miss you terribly, Regulus and I, especially so.’ Sirius scoffs at the subtle mention of his father. He appreciates your delicateness on the matter, but he couldn’t care less; he gets enough familial love from you and Regulus, and even his uncle. Despite his father being largely neglectful, Sirius’ days are filled with warmth and happiness, knowing that he has you and Reggie and Uncle Alphard— his version of family is complete. Nothing else needs to be added or subtracted, it’s perfect as is, no matter how small compared to the rest of his family tree.

‘The Yule holidays will be a special one, I have so many fun activities planned for the family.’ Sirius’ eyebrows fly to his hairline, his eyes widening with excitement at your words. The winter holidays were always a dull affair, with the celebrations mainly consisting of soirees and events with the other pureblood, sacred 28 families. For the first time, Sirius was allowing himself to feel actual elation for what may come. Now that you’ve changed for the better, he wonders what sorts of fantastical things you’ve planned. He recalls the fun extracurricular lessons you meticulously put in place for him and Reggie, lessons that weren’t tedious to get through or spiritless in nature; rather, he always looked forward to them and often found himself bouncing around in anticipation for what you may have planned that day. From that judgment alone, he knows he’s in for a real treat.

‘Regulus doesn’t know anything, only that I have something special planned for all of us. And you will be just as clueless as him until the day finally arrives.’ With a grin Sirius, shakes his head, eyes filled with amusement. He doesn’t mind waiting for a surprise he knows will be anything but boring. It’ll be better than any of those soirees and stiff dinners. He’s heard many tales from his close friends about how they spend their winter holidays with their families, and it always made him a little jealous when theirs seemed more fun than his. James had hot chocolate every night and decorated the tree together with his parents, who also allowed him to fly outside on his broom so long as he dressed well. Peter baked gingerbread with his mother, and they assembled a house together for the little gingerbread men to live in. Remus would watch muggle Christmas films with his parents every night leading up to Christmas day and get up early to unwrap presents, after which they would cook and eat breakfast together. It was all quite mundane, but it sounded so magical to Sirius. He wants that for Regulus. He wants it for his family. Maybe this year, their winter holiday, their Yule, would feel a lot more magical.

‘I can’t wait to hear all about Hogwarts from you in person. I’ve missed you so much. All I want is for you to hurry home so we can all be together again. It’s truly not the same without you here.’

As he finishes off the letter, James begins to laugh, filling in Remus and Peter as they groggily take their seats beside them. “This loon was all giddy over his letter again,” James teases, pointing a finger at Sirius, who huffs but fails to hide his smile and simply returns the letter to its envelope. It was a careful ritual he did to preserve each and every letter he received. He’s eaten out an entire tin of the biscuits you had baked with Regulus and sent him, and he used it to store all the letters he has received from the two of you. It was his most precious treasure at school. Sirius didn’t care for much, and he’s been able to better reign in his temper, but if anyone were to touch those letters, he’d go on a blind rampage.

“It’s good to know that his Mother cares so much about him,” Remus comments, smiling through his tiredness as he piles his plate on with a helping of scrambled eggs and a few slices of bacon.

Sirius smirks and gives James a look, “That’s right, why aren’t you happy for me Jamie?~” Peter begins to snicker as James splutters a response, “Are you jealous I get more letters from my Mother than you?”

“Shut up!” James flicks a splatter of jam at him from across the table with the bread knife he had been using to spread it over his toast.

Shielding himself with his hands, Sirius laughs, “Oi! Watch it!”

“…Wanker…” James utters under his breath, but there’s no lingering malice between them. This was as peaceful as breakfast can go between the four.

Another regular occurrence at breakfast is James’ wandering eyes and his longing stare at a renowned, witty and otherwise disinterested redhead. A fellow Gryffindor who had a close and unusual friendship with a Slytherin. They made for an unusual pair, but Sirius had no problems with them. His main focus was on James’s obvious crush.

“Evans again, eh?” Peter pipes up through a mouthful of scrambled eggs, only to snicker when James hurriedly shushes him. Sirius wasn’t the only one interested in James’ transparent puppy love, it seems.

“Shut your gob, Peter; she’ll hear you.” There was an evident blush on James’ cheeks, and the entire group giggled at his expense. The playful banter, however, evaporates as soon as James sees Lily stand to head out with her supposed friend, Snape. His expression falls so drastically, the tension in the air becomes palpable, “I don’t like him one bit...”

“Why? Because he’s with your girlfriend?” Sirius snickers, trying to keep the atmosphere light-hearted only to duck out of the way when James sends another splatter of jam his way. The next time he does that, Sirius swears he’ll try to aim the jam into his mouth just to be silly and rile James up more.

“No! I don’t!”

“Liar liar! Lying to your friends isn’t a very good habit Jamie~”

James rolls his eyes while Remus and Peter giggle to themselves, “I’m serious—”

“I thought you were James? I’m Sirius,” Remus and Peter begin cackling, sharing high fives between themselves and Sirius as James grumbles lowly. Suddenly, his friend reaches over the table to swat at his hair until Sirius pleads for him to stop. The two of them share an amused grin until James sighs, seemingly having reigned in his bitterness.

“He’s a Slytherin…and she’s a Gryffindor, it just doesn’t make sense.”

Sirius raised a brow, “What’s wrong with Slytherin?” his lips had moved before he could stop himself, and he looked around cautiously for a moment, knowing the rivalry between the two houses well, “It’s just that… I could have been in Slytherin.”

“But that’s just it; you weren’t sorted into Slytherin, he was,” James expresses, clearly speaking about Snape.

Sirius stays silent as Remus quickly picks the conversation back up, not wanting the tension to continue needlessly, “Just admit your crush and that you’re jealous James,” This earns a smirk from Sirius and Peter, and they all simultaneously give James a singular, teasing look.

“I’m not jealous of him!”

“Seems to me like you are~"

James groans and decides to leave the subject altogether. “My breakfast is getting cold because of you. Leave me alone.” They share another light-hearted laugh and finally focus back on the better subject of food.

21st December 1971 | King’s Cross Station, Platform 9¾ 

Standing at the platform with Regulus vibrating with excitement at your side and Orion standing off near the brick walls of the station, together, as a family, you await Sirius’ arrival. It was a cold winter’s day, but you could barely feel the chilling temperatures through your eagerness. You wonder if Sirius had grown much taller since the last time you saw him, you wonder if he still has the same preferences in food, and you wonder if he was happy to reunite with you all again. None of that mattered, however, not when he would be arriving soon, safe and sound — you just couldn’t wait to have him in your arms again.

Regulus has been especially excited for today, eager to dress himself for the occasion — in fact, he was the first one at the door this morning. You were second, and Orion came trailing behind as the third. Kreacher was helpfully staying behind to finish up the grand lunch spread you had begun making for Sirius to come home to. He must be terribly tired from the long journey. But it’s nothing some good food and family time at the table could help.

“How much longer do you think he’ll be, Mother?” Regulus asks, looking up at you with starry eyes.

“I don’t know, little love,” you express honestly, observing the congregating families around you, “but I hope he’ll get here soon.” The two of you share a smile and look back onto the tracks once more, fervidly awaiting the arrival of the train.

“I…I think I hear something,” Regulus comments softly, straining his ears and stretching his neck out to better see the path of the potentially arriving train.

“Regulus, be careful!” you fret, hurriedly pulling him back to safety, but he had no care for it, already bouncing in place.

“It’s coming! The train is coming!” His elated exclamation can be heard throughout the platform and makes all the surrounding families straighten in anticipation for their sons and daughters, who are finally coming home for the holidays.

“I know it’s exciting, but there wasn’t a need for you to put yourself at risk, alright? Regulus?” you look into his eyes meaningfully as he nods, “Promise me you won’t do something so silly again.”

The soft pink cheeks of your youngest, due to the biting cold, become all the more pink from your worry, but he nods agreeably. “Yes, Mother. I’m sorry.” Smiling satisfactorily, you kiss his crown and pull yourselves back even further as the train finally arrives at the station. It arrives with a flurry of smoke and an echoing horn. Sirius is here. You try to keep your heart at bay, feeling as though it would fly out of your chest, just at the idea of Sirius being so close. Glancing behind you, Orion leant against the brick wall, looking around impatiently and with such dull disinterest that your excitement was momentarily overcast. What an unpleasant attitude to have. Was he not happy for Sirius to be home after so long? He can stay back there for all you care. For now, you focus on searching the globulous crowds flocking to the train entrances for your eldest son.

You made sure to clearly inform Regulus about your plans for collecting Sirius at the station. Rightfully predicting the large mass of people, you warned him to keep his distance and stay close to you. It was important that he not let his excitement get the best of him, or else he would be putting himself in danger by carelessly mixing in with the crowds of people.

“Stay close, Reggie,” you remind him, and he gives your hand a reassuring clench.

Searching the crowds carefully, you try to find Sirius as quickly as possible. You try to pick out his pale skin, his angular features, his glittering grey eyes and his mess of black hair. The search was made rather difficult because of the bustling crowds, but you stood your ground, only cursing the masses in your head for keeping you away from your son longer than needed.

“Mother!” came a distant but approaching shout, and your head snapped to the voice’s direction, “Reggie!” Sirius breaks through the crowd with an adoring, toothy grin that you had long missed.

“Sirius!” Regulus shouts and runs to his brother with open arms. From your place, you watch their reunion with fond eyes, doing your best to wait patiently for when Sirius would make it the rest of the way to you.

“I missed you so much!” Sirius laughs into his little brother’s hair.

“I missed you too, Siri…” Regulus sighs into his older brother’s chest. It’s been too long since they’ve last seen each other. Those letters weren’t enough. “Come!” he grabs his older brother’s hand and leads him back to you. “Mother’s missed you too!”

Sirius looks up and grins before running into your wide-open arms, sighing into the thick fabric of your jacket. You use one hand to shrink his luggage and have Regulus pocket them while Orion begrudgingly carries his owl’s cage. You’ve knelt to meet him at his height, pressing his face into your shoulder as you prop your chin over his own.

“Oh! My darling, my darling~” you coo, finally allowing yourself to savour the feel of him in your arms, “I’ve missed you so so much!”

“I missed you too, Mother!” Sirius grins, his spirit bright and shining through his beautiful grey eyes, “Thank you for picking me up.” his politeness makes you awe and begin peppering his face with kisses. “S-stop!” he chuckles, clearly not opposed to the affection in the slightest. “You’re embarrassing me in front of my friends.”

“Friends?” you stutter, pausing as you look behind him to see the young marauders holding back devious smirks at the sight. It appears as though they have already introduced themselves to Regulus, who finds his way back to you with a wide smile.

“They all sound nice, Mother,” Regulus comments, positioning himself beside you and facing the three school boys who arrived with his brother, doing his best to ignore Orion’s displeased expression and narrowed gaze. His father had been very irritable and impatient this morning. It was very disappointing to see, but Regulus didn’t allow it to pollute his personal delight over Sirius’ return.

“Let me introduce you,” Sirius starts with a messy-haired young man with round glasses, standing at a healthy height and with the faintest dimples showing in his cheeks. “This one is called James,”

“This one?!” James blanches, making you all laugh before he finally greets you properly, “James Potter, here! Good afternoon, Ma’am,”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, James,” you smile kindly at him, trying to temper your racing mind and heart as best as you can. The marauders were right in front of you. How surreal! So distracted were you at keeping your reactions reasonable that you completely missed the slight shock that crossed all three boys’ expressions before they melted into a soft look of admiration — one similar to puppy love. You’re pretty... was their silent but unanimous conclusion. They only caught a glimpse of you from the dining hall on the day Sirius had been called to see Dumbledore, but seeing you up close made them realise how small of a glimpse they caught of your beauty. Perhaps it was also because of how loving they knew you to be through Sirius that their puppy love blossomed so easily.

“This is Peter,” Sirius gestures to a portly boy with sandy blonde hair and chubby cheeks flushed red from the cold.

“H-hello, Madam, it’s Peter Pettigrew,” Peter greets shyly, finishing off his introduction whilst avoiding your eyes.

“Hello, Peter.” You can’t help but admire how adorable-looking Peter appeared. Right now, he’s just an innocent child who’s only beginning to figure out who he truly is as a person. Hopefully, you can help him avoid getting pulled into the darkness and help the boys form a stronger bond that keeps him on the right side. You’ve seen the online discussions of how Peter could have been the parallel for Neville before it all went wrong; in this reality, you were determined to make them exact parallels. You won’t allow Peter to be led astray.

“And lastly, this is Remus Lupin.” Sirius corrects himself to make a full introduction this time and turns you to a brunette with faint scars marring the skin of his neck, jaw and face, his sweet features all bundled up in the cosiest grandpa jumper you’ve ever seen.

“A pleasure, Ma’am,” There’s a shyness in Remus’ smile that makes you want to coo at him but manage to hold yourself back. Taking in his precious appearance makes your determination to help Damocles with the Wolfsbane potion grow all the more. A kind, innocent boy like him didn’t deserve to suffer the consequences of such a terrible ailment, especially one that was forced upon him at such a young age.

Smiling sweetly, you give a small nod, “The pleasure’s all mine, Remus, hello.” You take a moment to meet each of their gazes individually. “It’s wonderful to finally put a name to the face. Sirius has written so much about you in his letters,” The three share a teasing grin as Sirius goes a soft pink beside you.

“Mother!” he hisses under his breath, but you ignore him with a light laugh.

“My~ It feels as though I’m meeting celebrities,” James’ chest visibly puffs up as Remus and Peter tuck in their chins bashfully.

“It’s really nice of you to talk about us, Sirius,” Peter comments softly, his words genuine and his eyes grateful.

“Of course, I would,” Sirius defends, his embarrassment turning into smugness. He sees the perfect opportunity to poke fun at them and jumps at it, “I had no one else to rant about you sorry lot,”

“Excuse you!” James huffs, his hands leaving his hips to reach for Sirius, who ducks behind you with a laugh. Peter, on the other hand, pouts exaggeratedly while Remus shakes his head.

“Goodness,” you giggle to yourself as Sirius looks over your shoulder to make a funny face at James, who returns the gesture, soon being joined by Remus and Peter, all of them now pulling silly faces at each other. Regulus was tempted enough to join in, “You lot are a bunch of goofs.”

Regulus nods in agreement beside you, pretending that he hadn’t just joined in and giggled along, his eyes glittering with the idea that he may make the same fun friendships when he finally gets to go to Hogwarts next year. He’s never seen his brother so energetic and laid back before. If this was the effect Hogwarts had on his disposition, then he couldn’t wait to join in on the fun. Regulus has read about the group’s many pranks during school in Sirius’ letters, and although he was hesitant to indulge his elder brother’s misbehaviour at first, he soon fell into the wondrous magic such a brotherhood fostered. He wanted to be a part of it, too. He wanted to create his own.

“We need to get home. Hurry it up!” your husband demands from a step or two behind you, impatiently carrying Sirius’ owl in its cage.

“Really, Orion…” you huff, slowly standing and shooting the stone-faced, bitter mana scowl, “aren’t you the least bit interested in your eldest son’s close friends?” you ask, willing yourself to restrain the amount of bite in your tone, aware of the suddenly quiet and tense atmosphere between you. Orion has the most horrid habit of disturbing the peace.

“I’m interested in getting out of this cold. Hurry. Up!” he snaps once more before turning around to lead the way home. Sighing, you turn to the marauders and your two sons with an apologetic smile, hoping to ease their tense shoulders and tight expressions. “I’m sorry dears, but my husband’s anxious to get home,” they nod their heads in understanding.

“It’s okay, ma’am,” James offers a smile, helping to ease the tension even more. “I should really go find my own parents, too,”

“Of course, thank you for understanding,” reaching out, you softly begin petting Sirius’ hair as he stood at your side. “Perhaps we can invite you over for a get-together over the holidays? It would be nice to spend some time with each other over some tea and games.” The boys look at each other excitedly, their eyes and smiles wide with anticipation. Sirius and Regulus, however, look up at you in surprise. They didn’t expect this at all, but they should have; you’ve changed so much already. Naturally, you would be more willing to allow them to befriend and spend time with those they made their friends. Your sons’ chests filled with warmth at the thought and they couldn’t keep themselves from smiling widely.

“That’ll be great! Thanks!” James cheers.

“Yeah, it’ll be fun,” Peter adds, his shyness disappearing into a bright-eyed smile.

Remus nods along happily, “I can’t wait!” You watch fondly as the 11-year-old marauders share a group hug before waving them off.

“Aren’t we going yet, Mother?” Regulus asks, tugging gently on your skirt. Both sons look at you with curious eyes.

“Of course, I just want to make sure your friends get to their parents safely,” your answer makes Sirius smile gratefully, and you all patiently watch and wait. It didn’t take long for James to greet his parents. He points you out, and you wave at him while his parents stare in shock. Their jaws dropped in surprise at the sight of the Black family’s matriarch happily waving at them with an uncharacteristically kind smile. The same happened with Remus when he reunited with his parents, too. Peter’s mother also shared the same astounded look but was unwilling to stay longer than needed and hurries him away.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔݁ ˖

“Your friends were very lovely, Siri,” you comment sweetly as you all arrive back at 12 Grimmauld Place, dusting yourselves off as the green flames of the fireplace subsided “I wish we could have stayed longer.”

“It’s alright.” Sirius smiles up at you, appreciative of your open kindness to his friends, the complete opposite of his father’s judging stares. “They had their families to get back to—”

“What Took You So Long?!” Orion’s voice boomed and shook the walls of the living area, instantly riding the light-hearted nature of the atmosphere.

As Sirius and Regulus stiffened up and inched closer to you, you answer Orion calmly, leaning down to help the boys out of their coats, “We made sure Sirius’ friends returned to their families safely before leaving. Is that so wrong?” Orion scoffs, clearly annoyed that he was kept waiting around for you. “We didn’t mind the cold all that much but I know it was getting to be a lot for you, dear, we understand,” your husband flushes red at the cheeks and stomps off to his office with his tail tucked between his legs. It was hard to suppress your victorious smirk.

“I won’t be joining your lunch! Have the food be delivered to me in my office!” Orion’s reverberating voice disappears up the stairs with him. Good riddance.

“As you wish,” you then call for Kreacher to help you put the boys’ clothes away and serve Orion his helping of the lunch you had prepared for Sirius’ return.

“Right away, Mistress,” Kreacher smiles, magicking the coats to their rightful places once Regulus took Sirius’ shrunken luggage out from his pockets and finally turned to Sirius with a warm look, “Kreacher is most happy to have young master Sirius return,”

Sirius smiles back happily, “Thank you, Kreacher. It’s good to be back too,” giving his young master a nod, Kreacher disappears to deliver Orion’s plate while you usher the boys upstairs to unpack. Sirius can see the visible growth in Kreacher’s once anxious and gloomy nature. The house elf looked much happier now and it was a good sight to behold, a welcome change. Gone was the house elf that perpetuated the torment his mother and father inflicted onto him.

“I’m sure you two would want to have some time to catch up, but you don’t have to fully unpack just yet, lunch is waiting.” the three of you step into Sirius’ bedroom together, where you un-shrink his luggage for him.

“Thank you, Mother.” Sirius turns to you only to be pulled into your warm embrace once more.

“Not at all, sweetheart.” You pull away and lovingly caress his features. Starting from the top of his head, your soft touch drifts down to rest against his cheek. “It’s so good to have you back, Sirius. I missed you terribly.” Gently, you press a kiss to his forehead and move to his bedroom doorway. “I’ll be setting up the table downstairs. Try not to take too long, my loves, we don’t want the food getting cold.”

“Of course, Mother, see you downstairs.” Sirius grins, and the brothers watch as you leave the room, eagerly floating down the stairs to meet Kreacher in the kitchen, where you both share the task of prepping the table for everyone to eat. You were quite relieved that Orion wouldn’t be joining you. The recent meals you’ve shared have been rather tense, and it was clear that he was still bitter over Sirius’ unfilial behaviour that was the cause of him being sorted into Gryffindor rather than Slytherin. Honestly, he was more of a child than your two young sons.

The boys don’t spend too long up in Sirius’ room, both pulled to the kitchen and dining area by the delicious smell of food in the air. They also didn’t want to catch up too much by themselves; sharing their conversation with you over the food you had prepared was a far more pleasant idea.

“Everything smells so good!” Regulus expresses as he and Sirius step into the dining area, smiling at the sight of you bustling about the kitchen with Kreacher.

“Why thank you, little love,” Sirius looks to his younger brother at the new term of endearment he’s earned while he was away at school. There was a mix of jealousy and assurance in his eyes. You definitely took good care of Regulus when he was away. “The food I prepared is quite nostalgic, actually,” you giggle to yourself and urge them to step up beside you. As they do, their steps eager and swift, they gasp simultaneously. Sharing a smile for a moment, they look up to you again with glittering eyes, nostalgia swimming in the warmth flooding their chests.

“Hunter’s chicken and fish and chips!” Sirius exclaims, eying the hearty meal he had ordered at the pub when you all went school shopping with him earlier that year.

“That’s right.” You hand him his plate of Hunter’s chicken and urge him to sit at the table with it before handing Regulus his plate of fish and chips to do the same. “I’m saving the shepherd's pie for dinner tonight.” Orion had requested the hunter’s chicken earlier that day, so you would be eating the second portion of fish and chips. “Boys,” you call their attention before they can take up their knives and forks. Their hands stutter mid-air, and they look at you with curious eyes, wondering what you need of them. Hopefully, it was nothing serious. “Kreacher helped prepare this food with me. Can we thank him properly for his efforts, please?”

Smiling brightly, Regulus and Sirius search around for Kreaher, who bashfully pops into existence beside you, “Thank you for helping prepare the food, Kreacher,” Regulus smiles at the shy house elf who couldn’t even meet his eyes.

“Yes, thank you, Kreacher. Everything looks amazing!” Sirius adds, his words sincere and his eyes crinkling at the edges from his appreciative smile.

“Young masters a-are most—” Kreacher looks to you briefly for some assurance before continuing, “most welcome...”

Nodding happily, you also offer your thanks and finally allow Kreacher to disappear elsewhere. He was slowly getting accustomed to the new dynamic between the matriarch and his young masters, but it wasn’t to the point of comfortably eating with you at the dinner table just yet. That habit of his was so stubbornly ingrained, that you doubt it would be an easy habit to vanquish entirely.

“Good job, dears,” you gesture for them to continue with their lunch, but they don’t move. Instead, they turn their full attention to you.

“Thank you for the delicious food too, Mother,” Sirius begins, “I already know this is going to taste amazing! I’m so happy to be home again!” admittedly his words and toothy grin make you tear up a bit and you quickly blink the tears away, wanting to keep the day a happy occasion.

“Sirius’ is right, thank you so much, Mother. I’m going to savour every last bite!” Regulus adds, pushing you all the more into breaking apart before them.

“You two stop teasing your Mother and eat your food already!” They laugh at your playful huff and finally dig into their lovingly prepared meals. The time was spent thoroughly enjoying the delicious, nostalgic taste of the food while also questioning Sirius about his time spent at Hogwarts. It was exciting to hear about his months spent away first-hand, as the Marauders era was always relatively vague. Yours and Regulus’ attentions were fully captivated by Sirius’ fun retelling of lessons and things he’s learned. You were beginning to get suspicious however; not a single prank against the other students was mentioned, but you were confident in his mischievous antics. He could keep it away from you in his letters home, but you were hopeful that he’d be willing to share the details in person. It was a little disappointing as that was something you were very excited to hear about. Although you were willing to let it go. You’re happy as is to hear whatever Sirius was willing to share. That was more than enough for you.

“My, my, it sounds like you’ve had a wonderful time,” you comment, smiling as Sirius affirms with an enthusiastic nod. “You’ve got Regulus all riled up and eager to join you at Hogwarts now,” you and Sirius giggle together at the image of his sparkly-eyed younger brother across the table.

“It sounds like so much fun, you can’t blame me,” Regulus expresses, tucking his chin into his chest sweetly and with a sheepish pink hue on his cheeks.

“I’m sorry for teasing, dear, you’re just too adorable.”

“And I can’t wait until you join me too, Reggie!” Sirius explains, “It’ll be even more fun when you get to Hogwarts too; we can hang out all the time!”

“Yeah!”

Smiling at their interaction, you helpfully try to reign in their excitement, “Just make sure to allow your brother to make his own friends too, Sirius,”

“Of course! And when you do, we can form one big group of friends.” Sirius’ excitement is still just as animated and contagious. But you were happy for his response and had no complaints when Regulus appeared to rise up all the more in his seat.

“That’ll be so much fun!”

22nd December 1971 | 12 Grimmauld Place

Stepping out of their rooms, Sirius and Regulus meet each other in the hallway, grabbing and tugging at their rather stuffy suits. Today was the day of the Yule soiree that was arranged yearly for the sacred 28 families and many other prominently high-class wizarding families. In the memories you glimpse through Walburga’s previous grumblings leading up to the event, however, makes you purse your lips at the thought that, despite the arrangement helpfully trying to make the influential wizarding families mingle with one another, most of the pureblood elitist houses sequester themselves in a luxury room, separate from everyone else. This only perpetuated the divide, and you didn’t want that for your boys. For Orion and appearance’s sake, you’ll follow them into the luxury room but slowly inch you and your boys away and back into the main area.

“You two look like the perfect pair of gentlemen,” you coo but smile apologetically when you notice their awkward stance. “Are you uncomfortable, my loves?”

“Only a little bit,” Regulus confesses politely.

“Try a lot,” Sirius grumbles, always the one who’s more forthcoming with his truths.

“I’m sorry, dears,” leaning forward, you press a soft, loving kiss onto their foreheads, “try to bear with it as best as you can, okay?” Thankfully, the two were willing to cooperate with you and nodded.

“You look beautiful, Mother.” You smile kindly at Regulus’s sweet comment and thank him softly with a kiss to his crown.

“I agree!” Sirius grins and steps up to you, bringing your hand up to his lips, where he kisses your knuckles. “Mother, you’ll be the most beautiful lady at the soiree.” his actions fluster you, but you’re happy to have raised such a gentleman.

“You flatterer,” you hide your bashful expression in Sirius’ curls and press a kiss to his crown in thanks while Regulus giggles from beside you both. The three of you meet Orion in the living room, where you plan on using the Floo network to reach the venue.

“It’s about time,” Orion huffs, adjusting his cuff links before ordering Kreacher to place the dust-repelling spell onto everyone’s clothing so that the debris from the fireplace doesn’t affect your cleanliness. “We can’t be late to the soiree. Stop dawdling!” Orion hurries into the fireplace first and doesn’t wait for anyone else before he’s swallowed up by green flames. You sigh but offer your two sons a patient smile.

“You heard your father; it’s polite to be on time.” You turn to Kreacher as you urge the boys into the fireplace. “We’ll be back soon Kreacher.” With a soft farewell, Kreacher waves you off as you, too, are consumed by green flames.

NAVI. | SERIES M.LIST | NEXT. 10 : ... →

A/N : Phew~ that was a long one omg! I hope you darlings enjoyed the chapter and are looking forward to the next one! Chapter 10 will have a lot of fluffy, domestic moments that I'm very excited to share with all of you! For now, I hope this chapter was a good read for you!

[thekqipond]

DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER EIGHT

08 : PASTRIES

CHPT. SUM. : Alpahard comes for a visit and you help the Belbys run their shop while Damocles focuses on the wolfsbane potion. Everything appears to be going as planned.

LENGTH : 9.7k

TAGS : OG Walburga is a scheming bitch ; Orion is an absent and neglectful father ; Alphard is a good uncle who loves his nephews ; Reader just girl bossing it ; Ruth and Damocles are couple goals ; Reggie finally being happy and very baby

CONTENT WARNING : talks of divorce

A/N : I'm posting this now to give it a week before I post the 9th chapter on February 1st -- you'll have to excuse me if I'm a little late on that update though because I'm currently out of commission from the most horrible cold/flu I've ever had (╥﹏╥) -- please send your thoughts and prayers because I haven't had a peaceful night's sleep the last two days and I swear this impromptu post is also a part of the delirium I'm experiencing

← PREV. 07 : INVESTIGATIONS | SERIES M.LIST

14th September 1971 | 12 Grimmauld Place

Walburga throws a fit, trapped in the abyss of your mind. She’s furious, seething from your menacing intrusions upon her life and secrets. It was frustrating and annoying beyond belief! The intricate web she had just begun to create was unravelling before her very eyes, and she could do nothing but watch! She had meant to secure a different future with her forming web; impervious to the imminent cycle of life she had witnessed that fateful day months ago. She had made one fatal mistake in all of her meticulous planning and preparation, labouring over an ancient ritual that would guarantee full obedience from her two boys. And, rather than force her mind and ideals over the thoughts and actions of her two sons before their fates began to set permanently, she was being made to fall under the thoughts and actions of another individual, you.

Being forced to watch you take over her shoes has been Walburga’s own personal hell. It’s far more painful knowing that she has no say over what you do. She’s limited to only watching, watching and agonising over her perfect plans being torn to shreds. The love and kindness you were showing her sons was unbecoming, going completely against her values on the way a mother should parent. It’s clear that you know nothing about how to raise two young boys born into the most ancient and noble house.

Walburga’s resentment grows and grows by the day. As a prisoner forced to share her identity and existence with someone who goes against her beliefs, it is unbelievably torturous. She screams ‘NO!’ and ‘STOP!’ at every offending action you take, all of which seem to be the exact opposite of her true self. Openly showing affection? Her sons will only grow clingy and burdensome. Being open to conversations? Growing boys should only speak when spoken to and not dare question the things being told to them for their own good. Cooking without magic? (Cooking at all!) There’s a house elf to fulfil that role. Thinking about your foreign behaviour has anger quickly bubbling up from her stomach. You’re so foolish!

But there was hope…

After every major fainting spell Walburga has induced, your unconscious body has left your thoughts and mind completely silent and open to her reclaim. Dwelling in the dark depths when all is silent, Walburga can feel a ticklish sensation from afar. And it only grows ever palpable after every major blackout. A wicked smirk touches her lips as she reaches forward and feels the wisps of connection between the floating space she was suspended in and the tangibility of the physical world.

One powerful, familiar thought moves her fingers a centimetre. It was small but a big step forward. The solid material she registers at the edges of her nerves -–the feeling of bedsheets atop a solid mattress— was alien in its distance and bizarre for its unfamiliar yet known sensation. It was like returning to something and your brain had yet to recognise the perception as one that was formally commonplace.

However, just as Walburga was wrapping her mind around that singular, grounding feeling, it was suddenly ripped away. Once again, she was surrounded by an empty coldness, suspended in an unfeeling space. Despite the frustration that quickly mounted inside her, it was accompanied by a resolve that plastered itself solidly in her chest, a determination to bide her time and remain patient. She will wreck terror and havoc when times are right and after she’s deteriorated your hold, she’ll regain full control once more.

It will only be a matter of time…

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

You wake up to a familiar scene and sigh sadly. The ringing in your head is a powerful one, an annoyance that makes the sun rays falling through the gaps of the curtains feel like a knife to your eyes. Reaching for your wand, a silent swish fills the gaps, shutting away the sun and reducing the sting in your eyes to something you can easily blink away. The curtains act like a filter for the light outside, partially bringing a soft, green radiance into the room.

At the sight of your youngest curled up against you once again, you lean down and affectionately kiss his crown, “I’m sorry, little love,” although you kept your voice to a quiet whisper, it’s enough to raise Regulus from the warm abyss of slumber. Your little prince sits up and rubs his eyes as you admire his adorable image.

“Good morning, my darling,” you comb his hair back from his tired eyes and lean close with a lowered, soft voice; an intimate moment between mother and son, “did I worry you again?” Regulus nods silently and launches himself into your arms as you apologise over and over.

The night before, Kreacher had been open about another blackout you’d experienced. And, although Regulus was grateful, he was anxious all night long. It never fails to make his heart jump to his throat. He remembers your still—far too still—body laying in bed, in a room entirely separate from his father’s. You look at peace but it wasn’t a comfort; you didn’t appear to simply be asleep, rather, you looked more deathly… he dreads to even think back on such thoughts. He’s only comforted by the sound of your steady heartbeat and soft breaths so he wastes no time in reaching for his blanket and sleeping beside you, close enough to hear the rhythm of your heart and the melody of your breathing.

“A-are you feeling sick?” that wasn’t the real question he wanted to ask, you can see the truth in his pleading, sweet eyes. Are you afflicted by some sort of incurable disease that cannot be stopped?

Regulus closes his eyes to savour the kiss you press into his forehead, “I’m perfectly healthy, my little love. Please don’t worry too much,” you pull away to cup his face tenderly in your hands and thumb over the softness of his cheeks.

“You promise?”

“I promise,” you nuzzle his nose with your own and the tense, fretful atmosphere is washed away by your shared giggles.

Kreacher soon appears with a tray of breakfast and another phial of magenta liquid. You eye the offending potion for a hard second but before you can groan, Kreacher is already lecturing you.

“Mistress must drink! Must must must!” he insists with beseeching eyes, urging the phial into your hands.

“Let me, at least, have some breakfast first, Kreacher,” you try to set aside the phial and reach for the breakfast tray instead while Regulus suppresses a laugh at the scene. He couldn’t believe his mother felt the same way about healing potions as wizarding children and newly appointed witches and wizards did. It was amusing to see a reflection of childishness in his mother, who had always been so cold and unfeeling.

“No!” Kreacher pulls the breakfast tray away from you, insistent on having you drink the potion before any food, “Potion first, Mistress!”

“FILTHY ELF! DISOBEYING COMMANDS! I TAUGHT HIM BETTER THAN THIS– LOOK AT WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO MY SERVANT!” Walburga’s shriek makes you wince, and Kreacher takes it as the sign to draw back and apologise for his loudness while Regulus balances comforting you and the spiralling house elf.

“Kreacher is deeply sorry, Mistress…” Kreacher suppresses his guilty thoughts in favour of his mistress’ well-being. Going into another one of his many anxious episodes won’t be helpful to you. “Please drink,” he cups his hands around your own to fold over the phial once more. His large, watery eyes, silently plead for you and lift in relief when you finally agree and down its disgusting contents.

“Thank you, Kreacher,” you smile at the elf who finally sets the breakfast tray on your lap above the covers.

“Mistress is w-w-welcome…” he stretches out the syllables of the unfamiliar word, appearing unsure over its usage but his tense shoulders immediately sag in relief as soon as he sees yours and Regulus’ kind smiles. You had been urging him to use the word for quite some time and are happy to see that he was finally confident enough to begin trying it. Hopefully, after this first try, he’ll be more confident in using it in the future. Sending you a thankful smile, Kreacher handles the empty phial and disappears after wishing you and his young master Regulus a good morning.

“Kreacher looks happy,” Regulus comments absentmindedly before taking a bite of toast. Once again, the two of you are sharing breakfast in bed and you lovingly wipe away stray crumbs from the corners of his smiling lips, “I like him even more when he’s like this!”

Melting from his sweet words and the brightness in his eyes, you nod in agreement, “Me too,”

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Finally out of bed and roaming the house, you notice Orion’s missing jacket from the hallway coat rack and call for Kreacher.

“Master Orion asked for his healing potion, Mistress,” Kreacher shuffles his feet and wrings the hem of his shabby clothing between his hands. It appears that he too is uncomfortable with Orion’s reappearance, although, you suppose your husband had suffered long enough. Calculating the time in your head, you resist the urge to sigh sadly. Three days. The poor fool. You hoped he would have lasted longer than that but you suppose it was fun to see him suffer while it lasted. It was karma working its best under the hand of a spiteful wife.

“I see…” you patiently search for the house elf’s eyes before asking the important question, ”Did he say ‘please’?”

After a pause, Kreacher finally nods, “Eventually, yes, Mistress,” Kreacher looks unsure, probably remembering the tense exchange he had with the patriarch, however, it’s soon swept away by your smile and gentle pat against his bald and wrinkled head.

“Well done, Kreacher,” the house elf’s ears wiggle in glee and you see a shy smile creeping up from under his long nose.

18th September 1971 | Muggle London

“You’re excited,” you giggle at the sight of your youngest practically skipping along beside you.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen Uncle Alphard. Sirius and I always love it when he comes over,” you smile at his response, happy to know that there was an adult figure he and Sirius felt safe around; Walburga and Orion were definitely not a safe place for themdespite being their parents. “I’m happy you two aren’t fighting anymore,” although Regulus beams up at you, you couldn’t muster an equally bright smile in return. What did that mean? You were positive that Alphard only got into a serious fight with Walburga when he supported Sirius running away at 16. Perhaps this was a lead-up to that?

“Me too, dear…” For the moment, you keep your questions to yourself. The books and movies kept the relationship between the Black family rather vague so you’ll pick up the clues along the way. For now, it’s better to focus on your darling son and the precious memories you’ll make despite the modest outing to the French bakery. “What do you think we should have for afternoon tea with your uncle? Hm? I’m thinking of English breakfast,”

“That sounds great, mother!”

“And for snacks? What would you like to have on the menu?”

“Butter scones with clotted cream and strawberry jam,”

“Of course, a classic. Anything else?”

“Chouquettes, Macarons, Eclairs, Madeleines, Mille Feuille, Profiteroles!” all French baked goods.

“Goodness,” you exaggerate your reaction and smile at the light giggles it draws from Regulus, “All of our teeth will be falling out by the end. How about we include some finger sandwiches too? We can buy fresh bread and assemble them at home,”

“No crusts?” Regulus asks without hesitation and your heart warms; you love knowing he feels safe and secure enough with you to speak freely.

“It’s the only time crusts are not allowed,” you wink and silently awe at how his beaming smile seems to get even wider. Many depictions of Regulus made him a stoic and cold character but seeing his bright disposition and childish mannerisms was a delight. You prefer him like this. And you want to keep him this way forever, such a motherly sentiment. All you have to do is make sure he doesn't feel forced to abide by the toxic pureblood family rules and beliefs. Instead, you will gently nurture his interests, gently guide him whenever he feels lost and make sure he always feels supported. And you will do the same for Sirius.

Happy and content, the two of you walk into a lovely French bakery with high spirits. The warm atmosphere and welcoming fragrance of freshly baked goods leave you both enraptured and salivating at the mouth – it was hard to resist not getting a bit of everything. Together, you pick out the best-looking pastries to box up before selecting a loaf to be pre-cut and packaged for your convenience. The bakery staff were very helpful and were more than happy to oblige with every request. They also lovingly cooed over Regulus, who partially hid behind your long skirt, though this only seemed to make them all the more awed by him. His softly spoken gratitude was what had pushed them over the edge, and you could only laugh as they offered an extra macaron for him. Regulus was a very sweet boy and looked very much like a prince, so you didn’t blame them for their swooning.

“They liked me, Mother,” Regulus shyly addresses as you make your way home. He holds the wrapped-up, pre-cut loaf under one arm as his other holds onto your spare. As a gentleman, he insisted on carrying both the boxed pastries and loaf but you argued against it, insisting on wanting to hold his hand; the equally shared burden was your compromise. You think it was the best option, really — the best of both worlds.

“As they should, my baby has all the irresistible charms,” your open praise makes him shy into the folds of your skirt once more and you suppress an adoring coo.

“You really think so, Mother?”

“I know so, little love. I’m confident in this for your brother too,” you fake an exasperated sigh, “I’m going to have my hands full in the future. You two are going to be such heartbreakers, I’ll have girls constantly knocking on my door with tears in their eyes,”

Regulus giggles as he looks up from your waist, eyes sparkling from your playful antics, “I won’t do that to you Mother, I promise,”

“But it’s not about intention, you see,” you eye him with a kind smile, “when someone falls in love, they fall in love, there’s no saying ‘no’ to it. And with two very handsome, exceptional sons, well…” you let his thoughts silently complete the rest of your sentence and resist reacting to the adorable pout that forms on his lips.

“I’m very sorry, in advance, Mother,” his sincerity draws out a laugh but you’re filled with pride, regardless. Honesty is a great trait to have.

“That’s very sweet of you, thank you, darling,”

In anticipation of Alphard’s arrival, you and Regulus help Kreacher make finger sandwiches and brew the tea. The closer the time ticks to two in the afternoon, you ask Regulus to help you prep the tiered dish rack while Kreacher dresses the teapot with a tea cosy. By the time Alphard arrives via floo network, the reception room is already well prepared, clean and proudly displaying a delicious tea spread.

“Uncle Alphard!” Regulus cheers and launches himself at the square-jawed man who steps out of the green blaze, exiting your fireplace. He is smartly dressed in a black three-piece suit and polished oxford shoes. His hair is gelled back in a flattering style of frame for his handsome face — straight nose, shapely lips, piercing eyes and level brows. It makes you wonder if he was dressed in his work attire or not. Tea should be a comfortable occasion, especially when hosted by family, for family. What did he even work as?... You hardly know anything about the man, so you have to keep yourself alert to any potential hiccups you may accidentally let slip. You’re supposed to be his elder sister, after all, you should know more about him than his name.

“Good afternoon, Regulus,” Alphard grins at his nephew after visibly shaking off his shock. Never before had he seen his youngest nephew so high-spirited. Their greetings were also usually much more formal than this, distant and dispassionate. This type of behaviour was strongly discouraged by his sister, so the sudden change was rather suspicious. Alphard, however, wanted to believe in Regulus’ sincerity for the sake of such a sweet boy. He instinctively looks around for Sirius but remembers all too quickly that the eleven-year-old was in Hogwarts for his first year, hence the primary topic of his arrival.

“Welcome, younger brother,” you smile warmly at him, ignoring the look of surprise that he doesn’t attempt to cover up. At least he manages to dip his head in a hesitant nod of acknowledgement, “Let's head to the reception then shall we? Orion won’t be joining us, I’m afraid,” you don’t see it but Alphard releases a muted sigh of relief, easily veiling his real emotions by smiling warmly at Regulus, who walks close beside him.

All furniture that occupies the reception room stylistically matches one another. They’re all made of dark walnut wood, embellished with elegant silver accents and dark green leather. The central table has a dark leather sofa on one side and two grandfather chairs with swirling arms on the other. There’s a decorative fireplace on one side of the room with a drab oil painting hanging above the mantle and the only light source is from the open window, occupying the far right wall upon entering.

“Can I sit next to Uncle, Mother?” Regulus politely asks, not wanting to separate from his uncle but also not wanting to make you feel excluded.

“You can sit wherever you wish, little love,” you smile softly, sitting in an armchair and watching as Regulus eagerly pulls Alphard to sit on the sofa with him. Your youngest is already chatting his uncle’s ear off about the snacks featured on the tiered dish rack. This then led him to talk about your morning visit to the bakery, where he had charmed the staff to offer an extra macaron.

They ‘really liked him’ and now his ‘mother is very worried’, why? Because he’ll ‘become a heartbreaker one day’. Alphard listened intently, still shocked but eager to listen to his nephew who he had never seen so bright and secure. Every few seconds, however, Alphard would look towards you for signs of any rising anger or frustration, compounding into an explosive outburst. He was familiar with that. He was familiar with your disapproval. However, there wasn’t a single trace of any negative emotion on your countenance. Rather, your eyes were full of affection and warmth, directed at Regulus while sipping your tea, silently listening to their exchange. Never before had he seen his eldest sister look so… content.

Pausing for breath, Regulus finally remembers the occasion and flushes adorably. His face is much rounder, healthier looking, Alphard notices and is shocked when you allow him to have a small plate to pile on his share of the delicious selection of goodies on the tiered dish. The majority of which were rather sweet to taste. He didn’t know his sister to be one who encouraged the regular consumption of sugar because you would only allow it for special occasions such as Yule and birthdays. Not wanting to startle his nephew, however, Alphard bites his tongue and distracts his racing thoughts by pouring his tea.

“Milk and sugar?” Alphard asks, bewildered at the options freely offered on the coffee table. You had long forbidden milk and sugar to be part of afternoon tea after finding how his tastes had affected your two sons’ preferences.

“Of course,” you voice as if he had been crazy to question you, “everyone is free to make their tea however they wish,”

Alphard follows Regulus’ lead and freely makes his tea… just the way he likes it. With lots of sugar and lots of milk. If you were going to test him, he was going to test you right back and readily anticipate your outward, shrieking protests. However, there were no shrill screeches or ear-splitting lectures over how muted, milky and sugary he liked to have his tea. Rather, Alphard, heard you giggle. His older sister. Giggling? The world must be coming to a terrifying end! Slack-jawed he looks up and stares wide-eyed at your cheerful smile.

“I see you and Regulus have similar preferences in tea,” Alphard shares a sheepish look with his nephew, “How refreshing. It makes me wonder how good it must taste for the both of you to enjoy tea the way you do,” another giggle.

Regulus happily offers his cup, “You can try some of mine if you want, Mother,” Smiling at his nephew’s kindness, Alphard is even more awed by your drastic change in behaviour.

“That’s very sweet of you, little love, thank you. But, how’s about I finish my cup first and I’ll see about having a sip of yours if you have any left?”

“Alright!”

The happy atmosphere wasn’t something Alphard was used to, especially not from his older sister. However, he was grateful for his nephew’s happy disposition. His sister’s strict education and harsh manner of child-rearing left plenty of room for worry but, no matter what seems to have changed, provided that his nephews stay happy and safe, Alphard would happily keep his many questions to himself. Perhaps this was maternal instincts finally taking over. He dare not interrupt by drawing attention to it.

When there’s a lull in the conversation and everyone takes a sip of their tea or a bite of their selected treat, you begin to investigate the relationship between the original Walburga and Alphard. You weren’t impervious to Alphard’s shocked expressions in your periphery; admittedly, it was admirable of him not to make a scene out of his staggering surprise at your ‘odd’ behaviour. It’s fair for him to believe you’re still his original, bigoted sister. You can only speculate that he wasn’t drawing attention for Regulus’ sake and you admire him for that.

“Alphard,” he hums in acknowledgement, setting down his cup and reaching for a madeleine, “how is your work?” your question makes him visibly freeze up but the moment he realises Regulus is watching, he smoothly eases back into normal, less robotic motions.

“It’s been well,” you can tell he wants to leave it at that, satisfied to leave the topic there. However, you were not and kept silent, quietly pushing him into answering further, “...the office has been operating normally. My client is dealing with a relatively common case of discrimination based on pregnancy at the workplace,” he’s a solicitor then. And practising mostly in employment law, it seems. “And before you say anything about women needing to better plan their pregnancies and how a woman needs to be at home with her husband rather than working, I want to remind you of the company,” his voice is firm and he’s plainly referring to Regulus being present, therefore dubbing the subject matter sensitive. However, his insinuations on the original Walburga’s dogmatist beliefs make you visibly disgusted and it pulls on his interest. Never had he seen his sister look so abhorrent to the views he knew she supported.

“I wasn’t going to say anything of the sort. I appreciate that you’re doing good work for the people who need it—”

“Even for a half Veela?”

“Everyone deserves to be fairly represented in a court of law, dear brother. And please don’t interrupt me again, Regulus should find quality, male influence in his uncle, please demonstrate the appropriate, good manners for him,” Alphard is surprised by your sharp eyes and firm demand. You had always been demanding but never to this degree, never to such a reasonable degree, and never without raising your voice. Yet, your voice has remained level, only adjusting for firmness.

How odd… Alphard doesn’t know whether to laugh mockingly at your hypocrisy or dare to feel hope for the positive change he’s beginning to see in his sister.

“...I apologise,” Alphard nods to you before turning to Regulus, “I didn’t set a good example Reg, I’m sorry,”

“It’s okay Uncle,” Regulus beams up at him, happy to be referred to by the affectionate nickname his uncle hadn’t been able to call him in many months.

“Why not ‘Reggie’?”

“I’m sorry?” Alphard looks genuinely perplexed by the change in behaviour. You had always strongly reprimanded him for daring to call your sons by any affectionate nicknames as you wanted your boys to stay faithful to their full birth name — it was a source of pride, after all. To be named after the stars and be in the most ancient and noble house, their names were sacred and it was a mockery to shorten despite it being done with affection. But now you were supporting it?

“‘Reggie’ is a cuter nickname,”

“Reg is good— cute enough, it’s short and sweet,”

“But Reggie is cuter than Reg,”

“Both are cute,”

“...Reggie is cuter, though,”

“Let’s agree to disagree. I will keep calling him Reg and you call him Reggie,” the boy in question was a healthy shade of red now. For a lighthearted argument to centre around him like this wasn’t what he anticipated happening but he was happy to see his mother and uncle getting along harmoniously. Not once have they raised their voices or forced the other to leave the room in a huff. This was nice… Sirius would have really liked this. Maybe Regulus should send another letter, even if his brother has yet to reply to his previous one.

“What nickname do you call Sirius?” you ask, voice soft and eager to continue the topic of your sons. This was another new side Alphard was seeing to you, his usually cold and unfeeling sister had never been one to perpetuate gossip surrounding her sons, and yet, now you were so eager to— and on a topic that is so innocuous and unproductive. But it was a good change, one that he’s sure will be a good influence on his beloved nephews.

“Siri,”

“That’s perfect,” you smile into the lip of your teacup and sip, “we can agree on that front,” Alphard actually manages to chuckle and nod along. He had prepared himself for a harsh and loud argument, not this but he dare not complain; this was a very pleasant surprise. He even dares to feel confident in re-addressing a long taboo topic.

“...You feel I do good work as an employment lawyer?” he begins, hesitant, his hands beginning to shake. The suddenly nervous man opts to set his cup down and wipe the sweat from his hands along his trouser-covered thighs.

“Of course,” you wonder where the conversation is going.

“And what of my extracurriculars too?” he avoids your eyes and your mind flashes with a memory of a young Alphard nervously standing before his elder sister, his small hands curled into fists on his knee-length shorts. This man is your younger brother now. However, you can’t help but think that Walburga cared deeply for him despite their strained relationship, judging from the fond memory that had flashed behind your blinking eyelids. In the depths of your mind, you imagine she still likens him to his much younger, toddler self, an endearing but common trait in an older sister.

“Extracurriculars?”

“My voluntary work with the less fortunate, typically with other magical beings,”

You frown when you finally realise what had caused the strain between brother and sister. Walburga had belittled and strongly protested against a man who only did good. A man of justice. This was the man who favoured Sirius in the original timeline because they shared the same sense of justice and the need to rebel against their bigoted family.

“I’m sorry Alphard,” you look into his eyes with such sincerity that Alphard feels as though he could cry. He had grown up admiring his sister but the instant he had begun to think for himself and see the unfairness of her skewed views, he swears he had felt his first ever heartbreak. His sister, who he had loved and admired so much, who he thought of as an amazing person was not who he thought she was and the revelation was earth-shattering. It broke his heart all the more when he saw his younger brother Cygnus follow in her footsteps. “I’m sorry for all the past unsavoury comments I said to you about your profession, and on what you have chosen to do with your life and beliefs. I was wrong, the way I thought of the world was wrong. I’m truly sorry for who I was before. And I want to assure you that I am no longer that person. I think what you’re doing is truly wonderful and this world needs more people like you in it. My boys need a good uncle like you to help raise them with good values and sense for the world,”

Alphard looks at Regulus, eyes wide with shock, his mind reeling and needing something to ground him, to confirm that the shock he was feeling was reasonable, but to hope for the best and to trust in his sister’s words again was feeling too much at that moment. All he needed was Regulus’ reassuring smile, and that was exactly what his young nephew faced him with, as if to say ‘It’s alright uncle, you can rest assured now,’.

“Why….” Alphard slowly turns his attention back to you, “why did you change your mind?”

You smile to yourself, “For my sons, of course. They deserve the world, the least I can do is be a good mother to them,

“You’re the best mother in the world!” Regulus protests as your eyes humbly close.

“Let’s not lie to ourselves and completely forget what has happened. I have hurt many people with the way I used to act, for believing in the things I used to believe. What’s worse is that I have hurt those most dear to me and those who I should have taken better care of… I’m very sorry Alphard, I don’t think I’ll be able to express how truly apologetic I am. It wasn’t right of me to hurt you that way,”

Blinking back tears, Alphard musters a crooked smile, his voice slightly shaky but his heart light and chest warm, “Apology accepted, dear sister,”

“You said you wanted to talk about something important, little brother?” you wanted to move on from the topic, but Alphard no longer knew if he had the right to express his worry. After witnessing your change in demeanour first-hand, the weight on his shoulders was finally lifted, and his chest didn’t feel so heavy.

“...after the sorting ceremony, I was worried about Sirius and Regulus – they are my nephews, after all. I wasn’t confident in their safe treatment at home,” Regulus looks to his uncle with an appreciative smile, earning an affectionate ruffle of his hair.

Smiling softly, you take his implicit criticism with grace. It wasn’t even your doing but you move forward with it anyway, “thank you for worrying about them but, as I said, I am a changed woman,”

Alphard smiles into his teacup and hums in contentment, “I can see that… I’m glad – you’re also no longer against my profession and my extracurriculars. The moment you accepted my request to come over for tea, I was somewhat relieved but getting to see your change myself was even more of a relief,”

“I’m sorry again, for the past. I don’t know what on earth was the matter with me,” your slight jab at the original Walburga has the witch throwing a muted tantrum in the back of your mind. It’s quite hard to resist smiling wickedly at how easy it is to rile her up.

“No matter…the past is in the past,” Regulus nods and readily agrees.

“I’m really happy Sirius got into Gryffindor. In his letters, he says how happy and at home he feels there,” Regulus’ eyes shine with such pride, it was easy to smile with him. Alphard is comforted by the thought of his eldest nephew having a good start away from home and, atop that, being supported by his mother and brother. He holds no hope for Orion however, many of those in the family have heard of his inappropriate behaviour at Hogwarts. It was unbecoming from the patriarch of the most ancient and noble house. That was why many assumed why he had not made any public appearances at the Wizengamot for a few days, using sickness as an excuse in his letters to the office.

“Which Hogwarts house would you like to join, Reg?” Alphard asks, curious. Judging from your displays of changed temperament and child-rearing, he assumes and hopes his youngest nephew no longer admires the idea of going to Slytherin as he’s known his sister and Orion to have ceaselessly enforced onto the two.

Growing shy, Regulus looks to his lap and picks at his fingernails nervously, “I don’t know… as long as I’m happy and feel at home, that’s all that matters, right, Mother?” Regulus looks to you for assurance and smiles when you nod with fondness in your eyes. A slight tension leaves Regulus’ small shoulders immediately and he settles back into the sofa with a silent sigh of repose, Alphard following closely behind his nephew. What a relief.

The interactions and conversations with you have been quite a shock but in the most pleasant sense. Alphard no longer felt his fingers tensing at the thought of writing a letter to his eldest nephew. They had already exchanged some letters and Alphard was concerned that the assurance within Sirius’ written words was nothing but something to cover up the tensions at home from his sorting ceremony. What a relief to know that it was all true. Sirius did feel happy, he did feel supported and he did miss home. If Alphard’s own mother acted the way you did, with soft affection, fond eyes and a warm touch, he would miss home too.

Light conversation and the peaceful atmosphere continued until Regulus had to do his scheduled piano practice. Regulus politely excused himself while Alphard stared in wide-eyed confusion and awe as another miracle played out before him: you showing open affection for your son by kissing his forehead in front of company before he promptly left for his piano. A silence draws out as you wait for the distant sounds of piano playing to continue your conversation. This time, however, you aim to finally put your central plan into action, one that you were finally seeing the answers to when Alphard revealed his profession.

“What do you specialise in as a solicitor again?” you begin.

“Employment law, sometimes corporate and civil law too,” Alphard states nonchalantly, closely examining your face, his heart beating faster at the implications of your lack of a strong reaction. He supported the change in you but you can tell that he has yet to fully believe in the dream world that was playing out before him.

At the sudden look of worry on your features, Alphard leans forward with concern, “What’s wrong?"

Sighing heavily, you set down your teacup and lean back, "Do you know anyone working in Family law?”

“Naturally…” he answers, his silence carrying a question as he stares at you with a raised brow.

“I want a marital separation from Orion… and I want to take the kids – it’s not safe for them here with him around,”

Alphard nods and immediately begins to hatch a plan. It was a natural mode of work he had refined throughout his years as a solicitor, “I don’t blame you for wanting to leave…and I think I may know of someone who you can talk to. They’re a half-blood specialising in family law, who actively pushes for similar laws being passed for muggles to be transitioned into the wizarding world,”

That sounded like the perfect lawyer for you, “I would really appreciate that Al, thank you,” you say the nickname without thinking and are ready to rush out an apology but stop in surprise when you see the warm smile on Alphard’s face.

“You haven’t called me Al in years… you must really want to leave your husband,” he teases, trying to distract from his choked-up voice and tear-filled eyes. You laugh airily and nod as he joins, the happy atmosphere contagious between you. This was the type of relationship Alphard had always wanted with his sister. It was a shame that it only came about now when you’re actively experiencing rough times at home with Orion.

Before leaving, Alphard goes to Regulus, momentarily interrupting his piano practice to say goodbye. His youngest nephew insists on escorting him to the fireplace with you to properly wave him off and he doesn’t protest. That was the first time Regulus had ever seen his mother and uncle wave goodbye happily, sharing a warm smile and promising to see each other again soon.

This would definitely be worth writing another letter to Sirius.

6th October 1971 | Belby’s Potions and Ingredients

“Thank you again for helping out my husband and me,” Ruth smiles softly at you, setting aside her embroidery momentarily, not wanting to draw too much attention to her weak, shaking hands.

“It’s not a problem at all,” you look over to where Regulus’ legs were sticking out from where he sat examining some bottled potions, unable to help your smile as you and Ruth sat behind the counter together, “I’m only sorry I couldn’t come sooner. I’m afraid I can’t trust Regulus to be home alone even with his tutor Peony as a deterrent,” Ruth’s brows furrow at the implication of your words and reaches for your hand as a silent comfort. It isn’t the right time to pry into your home life, Regulus was such a happy child and she knows it’s all because of you; you’re doing your best to protect him as a mother should and that was good enough to you it seemed. In the meantime, she’s satisfied with offering a quiet consolation.

“You’re doing more than enough,” the two of you share a small, knowing smile and you thank the gods for Ruth’s kind and gentle disposition. It’s been rather lonely despite you having the best sons to look after. You’ve often found yourself aching for a friendship and you’re confident you’ve found one in Ruth.

“Thank you, Ruth,”The shop bell rings as a customer strolls in and greets you at the counter, “Good afternoon, do you happen to have any dried nettles?” you greet the man kindly and readily offer your help.

“You can find them in the second aisle down and can have your pick between whole leaves or the powdered sort,” you helpfully offer your guidance while Ruth returns to her embroidery.

The man thinks to himself for a moment, “Which would be more effective for umm…curing boils?” he looks rather bashful at the confession but you provide no judgment. Thinking for a moment and giving Damocles’ simplified shop notes a look through, you finally give the anxious man his answer.

“Both are equally effective. Only the crushed nettles mean for a quicker brewing time as they will turn the potion green much quicker,” the man nods along to your suggestions, eyes slightly shifty, probably eager to brew his boil curing potion at home, “Or you can purchase the potion itself, and save yourself the trouble,” a relieved laugh escapes the man.

“I’ll go for that then!”

“You’ll find the potion on the back wall, it should be blue,” he nods eagerly and thanks you before rushing to the back wall of the shop.

“Goodness, you’re a natural potions shopkeeper,” Ruth giggles beside you, her eyes tired but full of life.

“Why thank you, madam,” you bow at the waist exaggeratedly and grin, “I’ve actually been reading up on some potion books so that I can be of some help for Damocles,” Ruth tucks her chin in and bashfully avoids your eyes.

“It’s so very kind of you to help someone like me,”

“None of that,” you tut and hold her hand in the same comforting way she had held yours mere moments ago, “You are not allowed to refer to yourself in such a way, you hear?” Ruth is hesitant but nods anyway. You guess it’s her attempt at not causing a fuss but you’ll accept it.

The man returns with the boil curing potion at hand and the purchase is done smoothly. You have to hand it to the glamour you placed on yourself; without it, you’re sure many customers would leave without so much as taking more than two steps in the door — you wouldn’t have been any help to the Belbys at all. Wanting to protect Regulus’ identity as well, you’ve also fixed him with a glamour too and ensured you still look like mother and son.

“I see that you’re looking rather well despite it being only one day after the full moon,” you comment, brightening Ruth’s expression with a smile.

“Damocles is incredible!” her eyes sparkle as she talks proudly of her husband’s achievements, “The recent changes he’s made to the potion have made it so that I don’t feel as anxious during my time under so I don’t feel as mentally exhausted atop being physically drained. I think he said something about a stone. A wishing stone?”

You hum and nod in understanding, “the moonstone then,” she confirms with a soft gasp of remembrance, “That’s wonderful news, Damocles must be really happy,”

“Yes, but he is not yet satisfied…” she huffs and scowls, however, her delicate features don’t make the emotion appear quite as menacing on her face; she makes it look rather sweet actually, “I swear that man adores being sleep deprived and overworked. It’s worrying…”

“Maybe that’s his real aim,” you wink at her perplexed appearance, “I’m sure it’s healing to the soul for a man to experience his beautiful wife’s sincere worries for his well being,”

Ruth blushes a deep red and looks away, but you still manage to see the smile playing on her lips, “oh you!” The two of you giggle together as Regulus comes bounding over with a grin on his face, holding up a small sprig of dried lavender that’s tied together at the stems with a rough string.

“Mother, this smells lovely, you should smell it too,” he holds up the lavender and watches eagerly as you lean on the counter to smell it.

“You’re right, it smells very soothing,”

“I want our house to smell like it,”

“Oh? That’s easily done,” you turn to Ruth with a smile, “would it be okay to purchase your entire stock?”

Ruth’s jaw drops, “You want our entire stock? B-But that’s so costly!” if Ruth’s jaw could have dropped any lower, it would have dropped to the floor when you merely shrugged your shoulders. As if buying an entire stock of one ingredient didn’t put a dent on your finances.

“We have a rather big house and Reggie wants our whole house to smell like lavender, so we need everything you have,”

Regulus smiles as you both turn to him, “It really is a very nice smell,” Ruth can’t say no to you both and smiles gratefully. She knows your hidden motive. You were already helping the couple so much but you couldn’t just stop there, you also had to purchase from them too.

“May I, at least, offer a family friend discount?” Ruth barters and watches as you turn to Regulus to ask for his opinion.

“Should we accept, Reggie?” you tilt your head thoughtfully, “Should we accept paying less for this hard-working couple’s labour?” Regulus shakes his head ‘no’.

“That wouldn’t be fair Mother, nor polite,”

“Spoken like a true gentleman,” Regulus beams up at you and Ruth awes at the young boy’s innocence, “How is my son so well mannered?” it was supposed to be a teasing remark but Regulus, accustomed to your teasing now, is quick to reciprocate with his own.

“It's because I have you, Mother!”

“Oh!” you heat up at the cheeks, “I think I’ve taught you some bad habits, Reggie,” Regulus doesn’t deny the statement and laughs with Ruth at your flustered expression.

Once Damocles finally decides to take a break from brewing in the back room and analysing his previous notes, he sits beside Ruth and leans his head against her shoulder. But not before softly kissing her cheek. It was a timely break as no customers came to purchase anything and there was a quiet lull in the shop’s activities. Wanting to give the couple some privacy, you take the time to go on a small mission with Regulus, similar to the bakery run you did for his uncle Alphard. This time, however, those baked goodies will be for Ruth and Damocles. They both deserve some good tea and snacks. You try not to take too long and opt for only a small collection of pastries, some sweet and some savoury as you don’t know their preferences.

“I hear you’re purchasing our entire stock of lavender without our prestigious family-friend discount,” Damocles presses as soon as you and Regulus return, avoiding the temptation of the pastries you had brought back.

“The lavender smells really nice,” Regulus explains, “and I thought it would be good for the house to smell like it,”

“Precisely, Damocles,” you grin when you see the potioneer’s eyes soften at your youngest’s beaming smile. “I only want to fulfil my Reggie’s wishes. And I also agree that the lavender smells lovely,”

“A-at least let us offer the discounted price,“ he’s almost pleading.

“Nonsense,” you huff and cross your arms with slightly narrowed eyes, though not too threatening, “are you saying I can’t afford to pay full price?”

“O-of course not, Lady—”

“Then I’m paying full price and that's final.”

Damocles falls back into the chair you had once occupied as Ruth comfortingly rubs his shoulder, “I told you it was no use arguing, dear,”

“I suppose not…” Damocles looks at you with searching eyes before huffing a laugh and shaking his head. “Alright then, since you’re so insistent,”

“Wonderful! Now, you two need to eat, I’ll brew some tea in the back. Do you like French Earl Grey?” you ask, moving to the backdoor as Damocles lifts Regulus onto the counter.

“We don’t have french earl grey?”

“I bought you some while I was out,” the couple shake their heads in disbelief once more before Regulus pulls away their attention by running through the collection of goodies you’d both purchased. The French early grey you had brewed was a new taste to the couple, but it wasn’t an unpleasant one.

“Is that rose?” Ruth asks with wondrous eyes as Damocles smiles beside her, lovingly admiring her sweet expression.

“Yes, french early grey adds rose petals to the blend. Do you like it?”

“Very much,” Ruth beams and takes another long, savouring sip while Damocles leans over and whispers that it’s one of her favourite essences to have in anything palatable.

“And she loves Turkish delight,”

You can tell that Damocles didn’t want to take a break for too long, his eyes often drifting to his backroom door and his fingers twitching uneasily on his lap. If it weren’t for Ruth, you don’t think he would have allowed himself to finish his tea or his pastry. But thanks to his loving wife, he was willing to reach for a second and third pastry. The entire time, Damocles was drawn all the more to her, often checking her likeness for the pastries she wanted to try in the small spread, even offering her several bites of his own. He also worried often for her health and well being, always being the first to jump in making her feel more comfortable, either by fetching a blanket to keep her fragile frame warm or pillows to keep her posture upright. They’re truly a match made in heaven, you’ve never seen a more compatible pair. And you’re happy Regulus was a witness to it all. Seeing their close bond and equally loving dynamic would help enforce in his mind what healthy relationships look like.

“When you finish your break and before you return to brewing, may I have a word in private with you, Damocles?” you ask, partway through your pleasant tea break.

“Of course,”

As you step aside with Damocles, he’s already launching into an oration of gratitude. There’s clear appreciation in his eyes and stance as well as his words. “I’ve been able to get a hold of ingredients I couldn’t even dream of working with. I can’t even begin to express how life-changing your help is to both me and Ruth, thank you. I actually have some hope that I can manage to pull this off,” he laughs to himself humbly, in disbelief of his own words.

“I have full faith in you, Damocles. I know you can do it, the boundless love you have for your wife will ensure that you succeed,” he blushes slightly at your words but doesn’t deny anything.

“I haven’t been able to send you the updated reports yet, would you like to take the duplicate notes from my lab?”

“I’d appreciate that but I have something I want to talk to you about first,” Damocles nods, reminded of your earlier request and the reasoning behind it, “I just wanted to ask what you plan on doing after you’re successful with the potion,”

His voice goes quiet but his smile is beaming, “You really have that much faith in me?”

“Yes, I do,” your voice is stern as the potioneer’s eyes grow slightly distant, looking over your shoulder where Ruth is happily chatting with Regulus, who remains seated atop the counter still in his glamours, “You’re the only other person who’s believed in me so strongly other than my wife– not even my own family…”

You pat his shoulder comfortingly, “You’re an incredible potioneer and you adore your wife, I know you’ll go through the ends of the earth for her alone, you can make this potion work for her,”

Damocles nods with a grateful smile and finally answers your earlier question, “In all honesty, I haven’t given it much thought… the natural direction I’d go with the potion would be to present my findings to the ministry so that it may be mass-produced and given to werewolves in need of it,”

You’re shaking your head in disagreement before he could even finish his thoughts, “I strongly argue against that,” your words strike confusion in the potioneer. He’s sure his findings would prove helpful to many werewolves and you can see the belief in his eyes but do your best to convince him otherwise. It’s important that he knows where you stand in all this so that you bring him to the same level and see eye to eye on the matter.

“Do you know about the werewolf code of conduct?”

“Yes, of course,”

“It requires registering as a werewolf to the ministry and vowing to never bite any innocents and locking yourself away during every transformation,” you begin to explain, gauging where his knowledge stands.

“I know that,”

“And do you know anyone who happily registered as a werewolf to the ministry?” Damocles can’t answer confidently, rather, he stays silent. “Did Ruth register? Would you like her to?”

“…N-no…” Damocles hated that he couldn’t trust in the ministry but they‘ve proven nothing when it comes to the protection and fair treatment of other magical creatures, especially werewolves.

“I know the plan I want to carry out will only further perpetuate the stigma against werewolves and lycanthropy but the ministry has already proven that they cannot be trusted or relied upon in the matters of lycanthropes. I am, at least, confident in providing some help, do you trust me?”

“I trust you,” his voice doesn’t waver and you smile.

“You’ll be sacrificing a great reward, I’m afraid,”

“How so?”

“Surely discovering a treatment for lycanthropy will grant you an Order of Merlin as a reward…”

“I don’t care, so long as my wife is safe and happy and as long as we can actually help people like her, I’m willing to follow your plan,” as before, his voice doesn’t waver and you’re confident in his words. He’s a good man.

“Then it shall be!” you share a firm handshake. If only Harry had met an adult as capable and reliable as Damocles… you’re sure he wouldn’t require such dependence in the future, however, not in the future you’ll be creating, at least. And you’ll make sure of the same for his parents and all their friends —- all characters you love and wish only the best for. And it’ll all start with your two beautiful sons.

9th October 1971 | 12 Grimmauld Place

Tucked away in your home office, you look over the notes you’ve made on your current plans, avoiding the pages you’ve filled with notes on the secret parlour only for the Black family ladies’ use. You know it’s something you’ll need to confront very soon, in the meantime, however, you were perfectly occupied by current projects you were hard at work on.

Damocles sent you the report he duplicated from his most recent findings and Ruth’s improved condition following the full moon. Not only was he a loving and dedicated man with a passion for potion making, but he was also brilliant in his report writing. He kept his notes concise and easy to read by providing clear categories of the specific things he wanted to track. From your side of the research, reading up on potions from the Black family library, you had written him a letter back with suggestions on how to make the potion more potent. One such suggestion was his use of the Mandragora, Mandrakes. Rather than mandrake leaves, you encouraged him to use the body of a mandrake instead. It’s a little pricier than just the leaves, but it was nothing you couldn’t afford. The dragon blood was something you were having trouble with, however. It wasn’t cheap, and, having to look ahead at the wolfsbane potion’s mass production, dragon’s blood would be an annoying ingredient to include financially. So you promised to look for alternatives that might be able to give the same effect. You were even willing to look into ‘muggle’ books for a potential alternative.

After securing Damocles’ opinion following the future success of his wolfsbane potion and having some back and forth with Alphard on the family lawyer, he had been easing into setting up a meeting with you; you’ve started looking at properties all over the UK. You have a good idea of what you want to look for. However, the primary, most important criteria for these properties to have were that they don’t belong to the Black family. And so, you neglect the wizarding properties completely and look into muggle properties instead. The price wouldn’t matter, although you wanted to secure a separate line of income first so that Orion remains unsuspecting of your efforts to escape him; you don’t want any additional tensions happening at home, especially with Regulus still here. As soon as Regulus begins to attend Hogwarts, however, you’ll finally put things into action. Until then, you have a little under a year, which you hope will be good enough.

A squeaky pop shifts the air to your right, and Kreacher appears with a tray of tea and biscuits, “Mistress’ tea is ready,” he presents with a smile, wordlessly making the arrangement float up and make a home for itself atop an unoccupied portion of your desk. Smiling at the house elf, you nod in thanks and express your gratitude. Wanting to appease you further, he gestures to his big ears and informs you of an owl that sounds to be arriving very soon. With a nod and a soft word of gratitude, you walk to your window and open it up in anticipation of the delivery.

Sirius’ owl was the first to arrive and you figure it’s a response to one of Regulus’ many letters. Seeing your eldest son’s familiar handwriting addressing the letter to his little brother makes you smile, and urges you to write him one soon as well. Thanking the sweet barn owl, you offer her a perch and kindly ask Kreacher to fetch it some feed as a reward. The second owl that arrives is much smaller and carries a package as well as a letter. The parcel is only small and its wrappings are a buff brown, held together with some twine. The letter is addressed to you and you have a pretty good idea of what it may be.

You give the letter a quick read-through and smile with a nod before opening the small package to reveal a golden band. Its inner face is engraved with runes, and it easily fits onto your pointer finger. Before returning to your desk, you give the small owl a bowl of feed as a reward, too. Seated back at your desk, you pour yourself some tea and take a generous drink with the ring still on your pointer finger.

“Mmmm~” you hum in satisfaction, “tastes like strawberries,” It’s been a few weeks and those two have already made such amazing progress. You expect nothing less from the same two people who were able to enchant Sirius’ protection pin. Unfortunately, you weren’t able to rope in the goblins to craft this ring. It’s only a simple design because it’s the prototype but you plan on making a more decorative line of these to sell. For now, you have yet to test it against an actual potion but you dread to think about waiting for another blackout to do so. With a thoughtful hum, you return to your office and place the letter at the centre of your desk, planning to write a response later on. For now, you’ll deliver Sirius’ letter to Regulus —you’re sure he and Peony won’t mind the interruption and that he’ll be happy to receive Sirius’ response.

NAVI. | SERIES M.LIST | NEXT. 09 : ... →

A/N : I'm so sorry, my darlings, for taking so long to update this series (ó﹏ò。) I know I promised monthly updates but with Christmas and then New Year straight after, I was pretty occupied (⸝⸝๑﹏๑⸝⸝) Nevertheless, I hope you lovelies enjoyed this chapter!ヾ(。✪ω✪。)ｼ I promise there will be more of Sirius in the next chapter since we hardly had any of our baby in this one 

[thekqipond]

JAMES POTTER | BOUDOIR PHOTOSHOOT

sum. : you have your bridesmaids show James, your, now, husband, small polaroid samples from your boudoir photoshoot on your wedding night and you enjoy seeing his reactions

quick note : boudoir is a photography style showcasing sensual, romantic and even erotic images of the subject person. It showcases and celebrates the person's beauty and sexuality.

tags. : marrying james potter ; fluff ; kinda spicy ; you have the best bridesmaids ; inspired by a tiktok ; james is the perfect man for you ; wedding day! ; james loves your body ; no mentions of specific body type; james can't wait for his wedding 'night' ; shy reader shows her wild side~

length : 2k

navi. | more james potter

In preparation for your wedding day, you participated in a boudoir photoshoot. You were marrying the man of your dreams, the most perfect man for you, James Potter. It was your way of expressing your love, to show him how confident and beautiful he made you feel. Not a day goes by without him whispering an affectionate ‘I love you’ into your ear or expressing how beautiful he finds you despite the imperfections you nitpick along the lines of your body. He doesn’t let your toxic, self-deprecating thoughts linger for long; he loves every beautiful inch of you and he’s not afraid to show it, especially when you make love together. He loves you unconditionally and makes you want for nothing more in life. With him, you’re always content. 

This was a thank you to him for loving you so wholeheartedly and to showcase the beauty you were able to find in yourself because of him. You worked with your bridesmaids to pick out the perfect set of lingerie to wear for the photo shoot and had the most amazing photographer guiding you throughout. She was the perfect balance of encouragement, support and positive energy. And she was so respectful too. You were always the shy type so the beginning was quite wobbly but you eventually found your flow and it ended on such a high note. As promised, she created a beautiful photo album of the pictures you approved and made small Polaroid samples of the ones you wanted your bridesmaids to ambush James with on your wedding night. 

The shoot was weeks ago and now you were on the evening of your Wedding day. Everyone was dancing around, having a fun time, James’ close friends were a good level of tipsy with several of the guests congregating around the wedding live-painter to admire her work. It wasn’t ready yet but you made sure to check on her and keep her well-fed throughout the night; she was a guest too and was doing something incredible for your wedding, it was the least you could do. 

You fondly eye James as he dances with your family, a bright smile on his face. You still remember walking down the aisle, smiling at him as he wipes at his eyes, sniffling wetly at the sight of you but he was grinning the entire time. Neither of you has stopped smiling the whole day, you believe. It really was the perfect wedding.     

“Are you ready, Mrs Potter?” Lily whispers teasingly, trying to suppress a giggle as she flattens a Polaroid sample of your boudoir shoot to her chest. Your other bridesmaids, Marlene, Mary, Dorcas and Alice have also come to surround you, mischievous grins on their faces as they each tightly hold onto a Polaroid sample, making sure that it wouldn’t be seen by anyone but the intended target by holding it close to their chests. 

Biting your lip, you temper a wide grin and nod. They squeal and turn to one another with a buzz in their veins, “Just like we planned ladies,” Alice giggles before they all nod and split up with Marlene heading straight for James. You don’t know what photo any of the girls have but Lily informed you that they formed an order from least to most scandalous. It was devious but a good plan. You move to stand in view of James so you can see his reaction to each photo from afar, the girls also hold up their phones to record his reaction from up close so they can send you the video later on. 

James was dancing along happily, not having drunk a single drop of alcohol as he wanted to savour every moment of his wedding ceremony. He wanted to remember everything! He was also pretty sure he didn’t need alcohol to feel drunk, the electric feeling in the air was all he needed to fly high above the clouds. He’s never been so happy his entire life; he married the woman of his dreams and she let him give her his last name. He feels complete. And he was still riding that high when Marlene came up to him with a Cheshire grin on her face. 

“Yohooo~ Jamsiekins!” James rolls his eyes but smiles at her nonetheless.

“Yes, McKinnon?” a small bolt of worry flashes through him, “Is my wife okay?”

“She’s perfect! She actually wanted me to give you a present~” James raises a brow and tries to look for you in the crowd but is unsuccessful when Marlene steps closer, her phone raised and flips the Polaroid that was pressed to her chest at him. He gives it a brief glance, barely registering the image before going slackjawed and doing a double take. The second time, he looks at it longer and with wide eyes, wanting to imprint the entire image into his brain. 

“So beautiful…” James trails off, staring longingly at the image of you in a see-through nightgown leaning against the windowsill with your hair beautifully done and your beauty on show under the gentle sun. He stutters in place when Marlene flips the Polaroid again. He looks at her like a hurt puppy, “Is th-that for me? C-can I keep it?” He reaches for the Polaroid and thankfully, Marlene surrenders it without a fuss. He grins and kisses the photo before tucking it into his blazer's breast pocket, “Thank you~” 

“Pleasure doing business with you, Mr Potter,” Marlene salutes him with two fingers before marching off to pull Sirius away from the buffet table and onto the dance floor. James chuckles at her antics before looking through the crowds until he meets your shy eyes. His gaze softens with affection at your bashful demeanour and he sets out a clear path towards you. 

But he’s stopped by Alice who has another Polaroid and also has her phone raised. She, too, shows him the Polaroid of you, this time laid across a bed and sweetly looking into the camera at your side with a hidden smile, a lacy, see-through slip dress draping over your figure. His eyes linger on the curve of your spine and the perfect roundness of your butt. He can make out the small, lacy set you wear underneath and he swears he’s found heaven on earth. His hands immediately go up to cover the Polaroid from both sides as he bites his bottom lip to suppress a feral scream. 

“God, I’m so lucky…” he looks up at Alice from behind the camera, which perfectly captures the lovestruck look in his eyes and the soft blush on his cheeks, “That’s my wife…she’s my wife” he sounds breathless and giddy, making Alice laugh before surrendering the Polaroid. She sends you the video of James before looking for Frank and silently wishing the rest of the girls luck. 

James quickly puts Alice’s polaroid into his breast pocket too and returns on his path to you. But he barely makes it two steps forward before Lily ambushes him with another Polaroid and a phone to his face. He wants to smile like a madman but his dropped jaw makes it too difficult. He immediately snatches the photo and cradles it preciously, admiring your beauty once more. You’re scandalously raising your nightgown to showcase your cute, lace panties, a matching garter belt and thigh highs as you innocently look at the camera with glossy, smiling lips. 

“Ho-ly. Shit…” he swallows hard and begins to pant like an animal in heat, “Oh my– fuck!” he holds the Polaroid to his chest with reddening cheeks and wild eyes. He sags comically, dramatically showing how he’s close to collapsing on the spot. He’s seeing an entirely new side of you, not that he’s complaining, he just wasn’t prepared. A feral, primitive instinct builds up from within him. He desperately fights it and the urge to savagely take you in front of everyone, “She’s trying to kill me! This isn’t fair! She’s so sexy!” Lily giggles maniacally at him and pats his shoulder as if to wish him luck and James both dreads and is excited about what may come next. 

He’s soon stopped by Dorcas. This time his brows fly up to his hair line and he forgets to breathe. His hands instinctively shield the photo as he bends down to observe the small image so closely his nose touches the film. He pulls back and releases a heavy breath before leaning in again with the same shocked but appreciative look on his flushed face.

“Woah!” he looks around frantically as if he’s doing something he isn’t supposed to do and looks at the picture of you for a third time, trying hard not to groan at the tightening in his trousers. The image is of you from behind, draped over a decorative vintage sofa with your ass in the air, there’s no see-through nightgown, only a red lacy number with a garter belt and thigh highs. He berates himself for the dirty scene that flashes in his mind; he’s perfectly positioned behind you, his hands gripping your hips as he grinds his— 

“Keep it in your pants,” Dorcas laughs at him as she walks away, her phone still raised at him. 

“You’re not making it very easy for me!” James huffs in mock anger, hastily pocketing his fourth Polaroid that night.

When Mary comes up to him with the same routine, James doesn’t know whether he groans from suppressed excitement or dread at making a fool of himself in front of you for a fifth time. He knows you're watching him and seeing his reactions closely from the videos the girls were taking. And, although he wants to be a gentleman, you’ve always gotten such a big reaction from him over the littlest things, it’s only natural he gets worked up over scandalous images of you too. 

This photo of you was the most scandalous and immediately stole James’ breath away. It’s a top-down view of you on a bed with half-lidded eyes, your bra unclasped and in the process of slipping off if it weren’t for your arm coming across your chest to stop it. The position, however, only further accentuates your cleavage and his eyes linger on the delicious sight for an embarrassingly long time. Your other hand reaches down and fingers just beneath your panty line, a suggestive action he desperately wants you to recreate for him in private later. You looked ripe and ready to be eaten alive and James would gladly jump at the opportunity. It’s the perfect snapshot of you just before he devours you whole. The photo has him reaching to unbuckle his belt but he resists and snatches it up instead, panting like a dog with a wild glint in his hazel eyes. “This better be the last one of my wife or else I’m punching a wall,” Mary shakes her head at him with a laugh, “it’s not funny! I’m going crazy!”

With a wink, Mary confirms that it’s the last one and tilts her head in your direction. Without wasting another second, James rushes to you, his beautiful bride, dressed in white. It was the best day of his life but he wants it to hurry up and be over already so he can finally have you to himself. All polaroids are tucked safely into his inner blazer pocket as he wraps you up in his arms and buries his face into the junction of your neck and shoulder. “I’m going mad over you, love,” he voices with a hidden growl to his voice, kissing and sucking at your exposed skin, whilst desperately breathing in the fragrance of you. You’ve never seen him so… animalistic before but it lights a fire inside you that you happily fall into.

“Wait until you see the whole album~” Your comment has him shooting up, away from your neck and leaning into your face. The feral look in his eyes is unmistakable as he whispers against your lips. 

“There’s an entire album of you looking like that?” 

“Yes~ And it’s all for you~” James almost faints on the spot. 

navi. | more james potter

a/n : for those curious, this is the tiktok it was inspired by hehe~ this was a little nsfw but i hope you darlings enjoyed!

[thekqipond]

SIRIUS BLACK | BIKER BOY

sum. : no one messes with a biker boy's biker girl

tags. : fluff ; modern day au ; muggle au ; bikerboy!sirius ; bikergirl!reader ; childhood friends to lovers ; sirius being a flirt ; boyfriend material sirius ; unrequited love? not really ; protective sirius ; angry sirius ; book-lover reader ; you balance each other out ; which is why you're the perfect match!

length : 1.8k

navi. | more sirius black

Growing up as Sirius’ childhood best friend had its ups and downs. The main down was that he was easy to fall in love with and be loved by, even if it remained platonic all this time. However, he came with many ups that kept you close despite the unrequited ache in your heart. His spritely, adventurous and charming nature brings out a balanced playfulness in you, pulling you away from your books so you can enjoy other things life has to offer. 

Naturally, as you grew older, the influence you had on one another’s decisions also grew and he had been able to convince you to join him in becoming a biker. He didn’t want to be alone in learning how to ride, getting a license and eventually purchasing a motorcycle so he had to bring you along for the ‘ride’ too. 

You’ve doubted your choice many times but the freedom it brought to go riding was addictive. Whenever you were angry or sad, all you had to do was hop on your motorbike and leave all those negative feelings behind to finally feel better again. The journey also led to many wonderful memories together, mainly out at 2 am with hardly any other vehicles around, so you had most of the roads to yourselves, giggling at each other through your earpieces and sometimes breaking into song just to fill the silence. All late-night outings also ended in him treating you to your craving for fast food that night.

“My treat, dollface,” it was always his treat; he made sure you never had to pay for a single meal. And even when you try to sneakily pay for items by withholding your order or pretending that you’re not hungry, he’s already memorised your preferred meals from every fast food place, so it’s futile. 

“It’s only courtesy that I ask what you want to order, you know that, right? Because I already know your orders by heart, so there’s no stopping me pretty girl.” you remember the once over he gives you, his smug smirk only growing when he finally meets your eyes again, “It is pretty cute, though, seeing you try so hard to defy me,” — how can he be so infuriating but so charming at the same time?!

On the road, Sirius tends to be the more reckless one while you remain more responsible. It’s the same dynamic you two built growing up, you need each other for balance and you’ve both realised this a long time ago. Since you know how fitting you are to have in one another’s lives, it’s no wonder you’ve stayed with each other for so long. 

To accommodate his reckless behaviour on the roads, you keep a lookout and sometimes go ahead of him to see if there are any patrolling policemen around so he can do a wheelie. However, It’s not a bulletproof strategy and he eventually gets himself a ticket for his reckless behaviour. And, though you felt guilty for not being a better lookout, he doesn’t blame you. He got caught by an undercover cop so you couldn’t have seen it coming anyway. After being ticketed, Sirius hears your whimpered apologies coming through his earpiece and rushes forward to hold you close and comfort you when it should have been you comforting him for receiving a ticket. 

“It’s because I was an idiot and roped you into my shenanigans,” he scoffs angrily at himself, holding you tighter. There’s a pause and when he hears your quiet sniffles, he softens his voice to an almost-whisper, “Please don’t cry, love… you’re too pretty to cry,” 

You stay at the side of the road, hugging each other for a long time, even when the policeman has been long gone and Sirius has never asked you to keep watch for his stunts ever again. 

To accommodate your bookish and goody-two-shoes behaviour, Sirius makes sure to always stop by your favourite bookshop so you can indulge in your favourite book-browsing activity. Even when you protest and tell him you don’t need to go inside or browse any books, he always insists and when you end up taking a book or two to the counter, he always pays. You fall for it every time!

“You don’t have to pay for my books, Siri…”

“I don’t think you realise that I can more than afford it and that I don’t care what you think because it was my idea to stop here in the first place,” you hug him from behind around the waist as he pays for your books and asks that they provide a bag. 

“I’m gonna become a spoiled brat because of you,” you huff with pursed lips but he only pats your hand, where it’s placed on his front. 

“That’s the mission, doll. I bet you’ll just become even cuter,” you can imagine his smiling lips and winking eyes through his helmet and you have no words to say. 

Ugh! There’s no winning with this man!

It was impossible to not fall for a man like Sirius Black. It was sweet torture being his childhood best friend but you’ll get what you can take…

Tonight was yet another night where Sirius invited you out for a late evening ride. It’s pitch black outside but you know that makes it perfect because there will hardly be any other cars on the road. So you quickly gear up and pull out with your bike and park by the pavement, ready to leave upon Sirius’ arrival. The man soon arrives and gives a wave before aligning his bike beside yours. Coming to a full stop, he leans over, tilts your helmet up from beneath its front point and leans down to touch the front of his helmet with yours in a kissing gesture.

“Good evening, beautiful girl,” He greets smoothly and stares longingly at you from beneath his visor as he makes a show of holding his head up with the palm of his hand as his elbow rests on the front tank of his bike. The infuriating git has gotten into this flirtatious habit recently and you don’t know what to do with yourself whenever he does it. The only thing you can do is urge him to hurry up and not waste time as he’s blocked you in with his bike and you can’t escape the situation.

“Hurry up Siri, or else it’ll be morning by the time we finally head out. And you were the one to invite me for a ride in the first place,” you disguise your flustered state with a semi-angry huff. 

His smooth chuckle filters through your earpiece like a seductive song and shoots a shiver down your spine, “Doesn’t matter, as long as you’re there with me, who cares? We can watch the sunrise together~” The two of you start to pull away from where you’re parked and head down your usual route. Tonight’s indulgent meal would either be at McDonalds or Five Guys. 

“Stop flirting with me, loverboy, you don’t stand a chance!” you tease. 

“Never!” he shouts and laughs when you tell him off for being too loud. 

It’s a fun ride for a while; it always is when there are hardly any cars around but, even with cars around, there usually aren’t any problems. Tonight, however, you think you’ve encountered the worst kind on the road: a pissy, drunk driver on the road.

“Whoa! Watch out! Dollface!” Sirius shouts in panic. 

“Oh my god!” you shriek and sharply turn away from a car that suddenly appears at your side on the dual carriageway. The car appeared out of nowhere and, if it weren’t for your fast reaction time, you would have collided and crashed. 

“Doll?!” Sirius calls out, his anger overlaid by worry. He’s seen what happened from where he was behind you and the drunk driver after almost getting hit himself. 

“I-I’m okay…” Looking through the window, you raise your hand, palm-side up as if to ask what’s wrong but the driver only flips you the bird. This was someone you didn’t want to continue any interactions with so you pulled away to the other lane and maintained a safe distance. It was no use, however, as the driver taunted you by pushing into your lane again. “He’s crazy…” you comment and pull back to ride beside Sirius instead.

But Sirius had other plans. He makes sure you stay back while he charges forward and hits hard against the driver’s window until you see the driver pull it down. Through the earpiece, you hear only Sirius’ side of the altercation as your heart races and drums against your ears. 

“WHAT THE HELL’S WRONG WITH YOU?! HUH?! FUCKFACE?!” there's a pause where you believe the driver gives a piss-poor excuse and Sirius wasn’t having any of it, “SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH! YOU COULD HAVE SERIOUSLY HURT MY GIRL AND THAT’S FUCKING UNACCEPTABLE! YOU HEAR ME?!” you pretend him calling you his girl didn’t make your stomach flip, “NO! A— I SAID SHUT. UP! YOU THINK I’M NOT GOING TO DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT?! WATCH ME!” Sirius’ threat must have done something because you see the car begin to speed up but Sirius quickly follows and angrily punches the man’s side mirror so hard the mirror cracks and snaps where it’s attached to the car’s body. With his cracked wing mirror dangling pathetically at the side, the car finally speeds away and you hear nothing but Sirius’s heavy breathing in your ears. 

“S-Siri?...” He doesn’t say anything but motions for you to follow him off the motorway and leads you to the parking lot of the McDonalds you usually stop at. Once there, Sirius takes off his helmet and waits for you to pull up and follow suit. Hurrying off your bike, you also remove your helmet and are cut off by a hug just as you ask if he is okay. 

“I’m not okay…no…” he voices into your hair as you squeeze him tight, “I don’t know what I’d do if you’d gotten hurt, doll,” a sour expression crosses Sirius’ features, one that he buries into your neck where he kisses at your pulse point and you pretend your face isn’t heating up because of it, ”that pigheaded prick deserves to die for even attempting anything,”

“I-It’s alri—”

“I’ve memorised his number plate. I’ll track him down and make his life a living hell, I swear to god… How. Dare. He? Fat fuck, trying to hurt my girl. He deserves worse than prison. Give him the bloody guillotine, chop off his legs and arms, cut him in half and finally chop off his head…no that’s not good enough. I should round up the boys, give him the beating of his miserable, worthless life—” You’re sure Sirius would have gone on for longer if you didn’t jump at kissing him for calling you his girl for the second time that night. 

All thoughts of torturing the disgusting pig who dared play with your life were wiped from Sirius’ thoughts instantly. Now…all he can think of is how soft your lips are…how sweet and delicious you taste, and how he can easily kiss you all night long. 

navi. | more sirius black

a/n : i'm dedicating this to a wonderful friend of mine @thebestofoneshots i just want to remind her that she deserves so much good for her big heart and endless kindness, and i hope she can find some comfort in this short imagine as a fellow motorcycle and Sirius Black lover. i promise you she's one of the kindness people you'll ever meet and I think she's in need of some extra loving right now so if you could show her some love and support by checking out her writing and leaving her a kind message, it would mean the world to me and her. I LOVE YOU LILLY!

[thekqipond]

DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER SEVEN

07 : INVESTIGATIONS

CHPT. SUM. : you investigate the mysterious room you first woke up in while james, sirius and peter investigate where remus disappeared to. 

LENGTH : 9.5k

TAGS : reggie baby is too precious ; the making of the marauders ; remus needs a hug ; remus' first transformation ; madam pomfrey is there for him ; madam pomfrey is mother ; reader is also mothering ; no orion because he's being served justice ; kreacher is in on it ; detail on reader's bcakground revealed ; walburga's plotting clues

CONTENT WARNING : dead animal ; impications of animal cruelty/abuse ; cancer diagnosis ; life-altering surgery mentions

← PREV. 06 : POTIONEER | SERIES M.LIST

Hogwarts | 5th September 1971

From very young, Remus has grown a habit of being well-prepared for things, primarily out of necessity and fear. Fear of himself and the necessity to keep others safe from the monster that he was. His parents were adamant in doing everything they could to vanquish the prejudice surrounding lycanthropes and even more determined to erase his views of himself because of his lycanthropy. He is their only son, the light of their world and the most precious being to exist in their lives. Remus will always be grateful for their efforts and unwavering love for him but the situation is bleak. It’s hard to escape the nasty whispers and unsavoury gossip that go around about his kind — not that he wanted to be a werewolf in the first place… 

He’s lucky enough to be accepted into the greatest wizarding school in Britain by Albus Dumbledore. Despite knowing of his condition, Remus was allowed to attend Hogwarts on the condition that he be carefully monitored and cared for by the school’s established matron, Madam Pomfrey. The conditions were explicitly stated in a separate letter his parents received atop his letter of acceptance to the prestigious wizarding school. That day was a dream come true, Remus almost felt feverish holding the letter in his hand and reading about all the things he needed for the start of his tuition at Hogwarts. He couldn’t believe his ears when his parents assured his insecurities by stating they received a letter written by Albus Dumbledore himself in the caring for his ‘unique constitution’. The letter clearly stated that Remus was free to use an abandoned shack for his transformations, it was far enough from Hogwarts and Hogsmeade to ensure the safety of students and villagers of the respective areas. Madam Pomfrey was to escort Remus to the shack before every transformation and would be the first to fetch him after, ensuring that he was well taken care of throughout his academic career. 

Remus worried that he might break through a window or door but Dumbledore’s clairvoyant nature accounted for that in his letter. It was explained how the shack no longer had any working doors or windows for exit or entry and that the only entrance was via a secret passageway under the whomping willow. That willow was planted to disguise the entrance of the shack and, due to its violent nature, would attack anyone that drew near and disrupt its many branches. The procedure for calming down the tree would be explained by Madam Pomfrey when Remus arrived and would be approaching his first full moon. Everything was taken care of and Remus, in his relief, was free to feel the excitement of every other student invited to attend Hogwarts.  

Tonight would be Remus’ first transformation. A Sunday. The timing was poor, it meant that Remus would be missing his first few lessons of the day if the night proved to be especially terrible. Nevertheless, he’ll try his best to push through, the idea of doing catch-up work wasn’t a welcomed one, especially when so early on in the school term. The entire day, he had been especially antsy and quick to temper, unintentionally putting his close group of friends on edge. Every outburst was followed by a quiet but sincere apology and, although Sirius, James and Peter were put off by his strange behaviour, they couldn’t help but worry for their close friend. Their friendship was fairly new but there was already a brotherhood there that was undeniable and hard to suppress. The fact that they shared a dorm room only reinforced the bond between them. 

Their concern was obvious and Remus was happy to indulge in it, it fostered a familiar feeling similar to the one brought on by his parents whenever the effects of his condition became particularly unpleasant. And, although it was comforting, Remus made sure to keep his distance. The entire day, Remus was tormented by his conflicting emotions. He was worried about his friends finding out about his condition, worried that his mood swings and irritable nature made the monster that he was obvious. His usually polite mannerisms took on a more brutish design, his movements were rougher, his jaw always ticking about, wanting to gnaw on something, his joints sensitive and tender, building up throughout the day. The unfamiliar environment pinched his nerves and made him highly sensitive, he was scared about any potential mishaps that could happen, many of which, many could occur as it would be his first transformation. He hated days like this but they were his most important days too; he had to be extra careful.

Although James, Sirius and Peter were perfectly justified to snap at Remus for being so ‘unlike himself’ —as Peter put it, a little too lightly Remus would argue— their levels of concern far outshined their frustration over his behaviour. He only hopes that after this is all over, they will be able to forgive him for the personality shift and things can go back to normal without too many questions being asked of him. 

Earlier that day, Madam Pomfrey made sure to visit him, pulling him away from the group for a private talk although she kept their hushed conversation within view of many other students.

“How are you feeling so far? Is everything okay?”

“Just normal stuff, I’m fine,” Remus assured but his tense shoulders spoke the truth, exposing his internal worries and growing discomfort. He looks around, only to avoid the curious eyes of other students, especially his dorm mates and close friends. He wonders why their ‘private’ conversation was being done in the eyes of so many other people, when she first approached him for a quick but discreet talk, he expected her to take him someplace private too but that wasn’t the case.

“Honesty takes you a long way, Remus,” she eyes him sternly but there’s a softness to her gaze as well. 

“…I don’t feel good. I never feel good,” he bites his lip in an attempt to keep his shaky voice steady and looks to the ground to disguise his watery eyes. His hands clenched into fists at his side, partially disguised by his large woolly jumper — an expression of anger at the unfairness of his state but Pomfrey’s caring hand against his shoulder settled his rage almost immediately. 

“I’m very sorry, dear,” they share a brief but understanding look, “I wish you could do more for you but here,” she hands him a small note before promising to meet him for his transformation later that night and leaving with an elegant swish of her matron dress.

It was a purposeful performance, Remus quickly gathered after her leaving, something to show others, especially his close friends, that something medically related was wrong but should remain only between them. It was clever. He carefully tucks away the sick note she had given for him to use as the perfect excuse should Filch catch him in the hall out of bed.

Remus holds that same note like a lifeline while dressed in his pyjamas and piquing the curiosity of his dorm mates. He makes the excuse of feeling ill and insists that he go to the hospital wing alone. He stresses the word when his friends shuffle to the edge of their beds. James and Sirius were strong protestors, blocking his way when he tried to swiftly slip away. Their disagreements delayed his journey, pushing him close to snapping harshly but thanks to Peter’s shy input and hesitant smile, James finally conceded and held Sirius back with him. Finally, Remus could go with a small smile of thanks as James continued to hold Sirius back. Remus continued to hear his friend’s protests even through the door he softly closed shut behind him and began his search for the school matron.

Meeting Madam Pomfrey for the first time was nerve-wracking. Remus had made a point of seeking her out on their first-day tour of Hogwarts. He was nervous and remembered feeling so small under her gaze when he had first introduced himself, all while his friends and classmates remained preoccupied with a brief tour of the hospital wing around him. She knew what he truly was and dreaded the feeling of facing her criticism and repulsion. But he had no reason to be afraid nor so self-deprecating before her; when he looked up from his shoes, he was met with a kind and reassuring smile. There was understanding behind her gentle gaze and a silent promise to take good care of him through the warmth of her hand as she softly petted his head. He hears her soft whisper of assurance: you’re in good hands, dear. That was all he needed, all he needed to trust her. She didn’t judge him, there wasn’t a single drop of animosity or loathing in her eyes and gentle touch. He will remember that day, her acceptance, forever; he believed only his parents had the capacity to care for a monster like him but she refuted that without a single word.

“I am here to make sure you’re well taken care of, Remus,” Pomfrey comments softly as she leads him through an inconspicuous passage, bypassing most of Hogwarts’ stone halls and towering staircases. Regardless, the passage still stretched on forever before Pomfrey was finally leading Remus out onto a hill that housed the isolated cabin. As stated in the letter, it had no windows or doors, all traces of such entrances were boarded up and Remus felt the unsavoury feeling consume the depths of his stomach when comparing the shack to a private jail cell. 

“I apologise for its sorry state, Remus” Pomfrey sighs in disappointment, her frown remaining despite his words of assurance. She carefully approaches a knot at the base of the gnarled tree before leading him down another tunnel, one with walls of dirt rather than stone, “I wanted to, at least make it more accommodating for you but to keep suspicions at bay and activity around the shack should be kept to a minimum, Dumbledore insisted that it remains unsightly,”

“It’s okay, really,” Remus musters a small smile and assures her again, unaware of how he makes her heart clench painfully. Such a young boy doesn’t deserve to experience this type of prejudice or mistreatment. She’d much rather patch up miscellaneous injuries from innocent falls and moments of misjudged hazards than treat a sweet, innocent child for such horrific injuries, caused by an affliction he did not want — something hatefully thrust upon him due to bitterness and vengeful desires. Pomfrey was informed of Remus’ situation well before the Hogwarts acceptance letters were sent out and, filled with heartache and sympathy, resolved to care for Remus as if he were her own son. The letter of gratitude she had received from the Lupin parents only fuelled her unwavering will. It was also soon established that she would send letters to them after every full moon reporting on the state of Remus’ conditions, to keep them informed and assured of his wellbeing. They were good people and they had a lovely son. It was horrible what had become of their family due to ignorance and the thirst for vengeance. Lyall Lupin will regret that fateful day until his last breath. Not a day goes by that he doesn’t blame himself for his son’s mistreatment and lycanthropy. 

Stepping into the dust-filled shack, Remus takes a moment to look around, shivering at the low temperature of the room before moving to the centre and facing Pomfrey. The matron moves to the fireplace and lights it ablaze with a swift wave of her wand before facing him with a kind smile. However, Remus, seeing the lack of chains casts a worried glance at her.

“Are you sure I won’t be able to hurt anyone in here?” Remus asks before Pomfrey can say much else. And, again, the matron is astounded at the child’s strong character. Despite his condition and the prejudice he faces for it, he worries for others more than himself.  

“Professor Dumbledore made sure of that, I promise,” Pomfrey goes up to Remus and kneels before him to get at eye level, “You have nothing to worry for. You are safe,” uncertainty remained in Remus’ gentle, brown eyes and it didn’t leave until Pomfry assured him of everyone’s safety as well, “everyone else will also remain safe,” That was all Remus needed to feel at ease and timidly wave her off as she leaves through the tunnel. Outside the willow comes to life again, swaying against the push of the wind and sensitive to the presence of unwanted strangers. 

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Screams rang out through the night, horrific and painful, that was what had woken Sirius up. Shaken by the disturbing sound, Sirius clambers out of bed to look out of the dorm room window. Like some sort of haunted picture, the full moon hangs suspended in the night sky, laying claim to its dominance over the vast expanse of space, outshining the stars and ousting all clouds that still linger. It glowed like the many poltergeists that roam Hogwarts’ halls but the moon’s presence was incomparably menacing. 

“What is that screaming?” Sirius utters, his grey eyes searching the landscape through his window for some form of explanation. 

“I don’t know but Remus still hasn’t returned,” James speaks up from the shadows, nearly making Sirius jump out of his skin. 

“W-wait, Remus isn’t back yet?” Peter asks, also slipping out of bed and the three make their way over to their friend’s absent bunk. “Where could he be?”

“I don’t know, but we’re going to find out,” James grins and holds up a cloak. 

“How is that gonna help us find out where Rem—” Sirius begins, rubbing his eyes from sleep but stutters to a stop when James’ figure disappears beneath the fabric. The eldest Black brother shares a look of surprise with Peter before turning a grin back to James who was now a floating head. 

“I like your thinking, James old chap!” Sirius jests and slips beneath the invisibility cloak with him. 

“Will we all be able to fit inside?” Peter’s eyes swim with a healthy level of uncertainty, only to be pulled under the cloak despite his protests. 

“We’ll fit, just keep in time with my pace and be very very quiet,” James warns and the two nod affirmatively, Sirius being much more enthusiastic compared to Peter’s hesitance. 

“I hope we find, Remus soon,” Sirius comments under his breath, pressed against James’ right as Peter staggers along at James’ left. 

“I know… with all that screaming outside, I hope he isn’t in any trouble.” The three make their way to the hospital wing but falter at a hallway junction. Which way was the hospital wing again? 

“I-I think we should go right,” Peter helpfully stutters after some thought. 

“I thought it was left?” Sirius scratches at his head as James gnaws on his inner cheek. 

The three collectively decide to go right for the time being and if it’s wrong, they simply turn back and go the other way. Sirius didn’t anticipate having such an adventure through the halls in the middle of the night and, although it was underpinned by their concern for Remus’ whereabouts, he couldn’t help but feel exhilarated by the escapade. It was thrilling to challenge the rules and go against them. Sirius was well aware of this already but it’s remarkably more exhilarating when sharing the experience with other people, people that the young Black had formed a close brotherhood with. It was a bond he was quickly growing attached to. Of course, no one could ever replace Regulus as his real brother but Sirius enjoys not being the older brother for once. He enjoys having friends of the same age and not being weighed down by responsibilities or a pressing urge to protect them. They all stood on level ground, shoulder to shoulder and fuelled with equal trust for the other. Sirius quickly realised that, if he were to get in trouble for their misbehaviour, he wouldn’t mind too much. 

“Damn it, I think it was left after all,” James curses and steers all three of them back the way they came. 

“S-sorry you guys,” Peter squeaks and Sirius can just about feel the heat of embarrassment from his friend’s face against his shoulder. 

“Mistakes happen, no worries, Pete,” James doesn’t seem bothered at all, Sirius and Peter can practically hear him grinning through his words. 

“Yeah but, next time, we should go where I say first,” Sirius cheekily comments, getting a light shove from Peter and chuckles lightly. 

Their search continues but ends early when they’re caught red handed by Filch. The halls had gotten too dark and doing ‘lumos’ beneath the invisibility cloak was useless so James had to tuck away their only cover to continue forward, only for Filch to round the corner and smirk wickedly at them. It was good night of mischief while it lasted, they just wish they managed to find Remus before getting caught. Their friend remains the prominent concern in their minds. 

Filch had taken them straight to Professor McGonagall who now eyes them narrowly. “Why exactly were you three out of bed past curfew?” Filch remains in the far corner of the room, observing the scene and relishing in his deliverance of misery.

“We wanted to know what the screaming was about,” James fibs smoothly, not wanting to out Remus. Sirius nods along beside him after catching onto his friend’s intentions.

“But weren’t we—”

“Just heading back,” Sirius finishes and turns to Peter with wide eyes, pinning him to the spot, “we really didn’t stay out too long, Professor, can’t you let this slide?” Sirius smiles pleadingly but their transfiguration professor is unaffected and swiftly assigns all of them detention. “Filch will take you back to your dorms and you will stay there, understood?” 

“Yes, professor,” they say in unison. 

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Hogwarts | 6th September 1971

It’s the next day and Remus still hasn’t returned. It was not lunch and the trio were beginning to really worry for their friend. 

“We need to find Remus. We should skip History of Magic, it isn’t all that important anyway,” James’ words make Sirius wince ever so slightly, remembering your wisdom of the past providing the perfect lessons for a better future — it was an important subject to learn and Sirius had agreed with you.  

“B-but what if we get in trouble?” 

“Remus is more important than history, Pete,”

“I-I guess—“

“Wait! Look who it is, lads?!” Sirius points and begins to cheer at the sight of Remus hobbling over to their table with a crooked smile. The trio rise from their seats and immediately rush to his side, eying his awkward ambulation but don’t breathe a word. 

“What happened to you? Where have you been?” James asks as Peter nods along, still pointedly looking at his hobbling. 

“I was feeling sick remember?” Remus shrugs.

“Is that why you’re walking funny?”

“Y-yeah,” they finally sit back down at the table. 

“Does it hurt a lot?” Peter begins to shake at the thought of hurting himself the way Remus seems to have done. 

“Not really. Madam Pomfrey says it’ll go away through the day,” assured and satisfied with his answer they help him pile up his plate before continuing to eat. 

“What have you been doing all morning?” Sirius asks through a mouthful of food. 

“Making sure I don’t get behind on work and doing them in the hospital wing,” their jaws drop at his level of studiousness, “yeah, I asked Madam Pomfrey to get the assigned work from classes so I can do them without getting behind,” 

“You’re the academic of the group then,” James comments and grins deviously, “hey, can I copy off you in class?”

“Shove off, James,” Remus smiles when James laughs good-naturedly. It was then that the group thought it fun to retell their adventure the night before, all of them grinning when Remus goes bug-eyed at the discovery of James’ invisibility cloak.

“I’m sorry you all got detention,” Remus feels more than guilty. He didn’t realise they would go so far for him and, although it was flattering to know that they would, he felt horrible that it ended in them getting detention. The brunette was surprised, however, when the group easily shrugged it off. 

“We’ll be doing it again soon, anyway,” James smirks, shocking everyone but Sirius is soon grinning beside him. Remus laughs in disbelief but feels a weight being lifted off his shoulders — he managed to land himself a really good group of friends here; it’s more than he feels deserves. Peter seems to be the only one nervous about getting in trouble again.

12 Grimmauld Place | 12th September 1971 

Today, Orion wasn’t present at the dinner table; his stomach had been too weak to hold much food. Not long after a meal, he’s having to make yet another painful, arduous, karmic trip to the toilet. You, unfortunately, had to reveal the truth to Regulus after having lunch without a trace of his father in sight. You didn’t give much detail about Orion’s condition, just that he was having stomach problems and would be occupying the toilet closest to his home office and to avoid that area at all costs. Your baby flushed a soft pink and immediately moved the topic forward, making you giggle. He’s such an upright gentleman, trying to keep the subject off unsavoury matters, especially over the dinner table. Conversation flows naturally and there are brief pauses where you both focus on your plates, providing the perfect opportunity for your mind to wander. 

You can’t find that blasted first room anywhere. You’ve searched the entire house and… nothing. The troubling situation has you scratching your head; how can a room no longer exist? This is a magical world full of witches and wizards so you gather that magic may be responsible for the missing room. It’s probably similar to the Room of Requirement. Now, it was the question of why. Why does a dark, pureblood family need a magic room that can disappear? With a humourless chuckle, you realise you’ve answered your own question. The Blacks are a pureblood elitist family that dabbles in the dark arts, of course, they would have a secret room that can disappear. That’s probably the only room they allow themselves to practice the dark arts in. But why did you wake up in that room specifically? 

Lost in thought, you barely register the way Regulus repeatedly calls to you. He’s seated directly to your right at the table so your distracted attention makes him furrow his brows. When you finally snap to attention and look at him with an apologetic smile, his darling features are crumpled into an expression of worry. His concern was sweet and your heart warms at being blessed with such a caring son. He’s truly an angel compared to his biological parents; it’s the world’s greatest mystery why Regulus Black was born to such a reprehensible pair of parents. 

“Is everything alright, mother?” 

“Right as rain, dear,” he looks spectacle but doesn’t press further, happy to flash you a smile before returning to his dinner. “…I do have a question, however, do you mind helping me with something, please, sweetheart?” perhaps knowing where to look would be better. Both Sirius and Regulus were witnesses to your appearance just before you fainted that day, he’s sure to know the location. Regulus eagerly nods his head, still chewing on his mouthful and not wanting to be rude, “Do you remember the first night I had that horrible fainting spell?” 

“Yes, Mother?” he looks guilty remembering the moment he left with Sirius to the library, where they planned on getting through some boring, last-minute homework for their private tutors. They were upset at your dismissive words, claiming you didn’t have sons. It made Sirius snap rudely before stomping away as Regulus scurried behind him, not wanting to face more of his mother’s hurtful disdain. It isn’t until the morning after that they realise you were suffering enough to faint. Sirius stubbornly refuses to admit to his shameful behaviour but Regulus is drowning in guilt. He hopes you don’t look badly on him for that time, Sirius too. The relationship between you was much better now, brighter and warmer, it hurts too much to think of the past and it would be best to only look forward from here.

“Do you remember where I was at that time? I can’t quite remember,” you laugh softly, trying to make the situation appear unimportant, only curious. Regulus answers quietly, too quietly as he stares down at his plate, “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that, dear,”

“…you were down the hall from the library…”  

“I see,” you nod thoughtfully, mentally committing to that area’s investigation, “thank you, darling,” dinner goes on as usual but there’s a tension in the air you can’t quite shake despite the changing topics of conversation. Regulus was also much quieter. “What’s wrong, love?” you ask softly, setting your cutlery down and focusing all your attention on your downhearted youngest. 

“I’m sorry about leaving you there, I-I didn’t know you were hurting, Mother,” he apologises, not expecting you to reach over and lovingly comb your fingers through his hair. 

“It’s not your fault, little love,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head, “and I don’t blame you for what happened to me,” you angle your head down to smile warmly at him, trying to convey your assurance as much as possible, “besides, I’m all better now. I only have a few fainting spells here and there,” his smile is small as he nods and you both refocus your attention to dinner, the atmosphere gradually losing the earlier tension and becoming light again. Regulus remembers how cold and claustrophobic the house felt at that time, he didn’t feel comfortable thinking back to it; back then, it was a place that was hard to breathe in. He only had Sirius protecting him… 

The house is much warmer now that he has you and Sirius. He much prefers the way things are currently. The past should stay in the past. 

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Later that night, you ask Kreacher for more information. The topic clearly made Regulus uncomfortable and you didn’t want him to do anything he wasn’t comfortable with, which is why you didn’t ask any further questions, especially at the dinner table where the atmosphere should be lighter. Hopefully, you can fully dismiss all tensions from dinner when you tuck him into bed later on. 

Seated at your desk, you suppress the groans of discomfort that were being conducted through the walls from Orion’s private office — you can’t believe he still hasn’t asked Kreacher for a healing potion. But you suppose it’s fitting that his ego is making him suffer more at this point. You savour the sounds of his pain for only a few moments more before calling for Kreacher yourself. 

“Mistress has called for Kreacher?” the hunched house elf immediately asks after appearing before you with a pop. He remains ever-aged and wrinkled but his unruffled demeanour and, somewhat, contented expression certainly make him appear brighter. 

“Yes, I was wondering if the house had any secret rooms, perhaps down the hall from the library,” Kreacher gives you a sceptical look, one that was doused with suspicions you immediately set about diffusing, “it seems my fainting spells are getting to me and tampering with my memories,” At this, Kreacher’s expression morphs into worry and he begins to clutch tightly at his ragged clothes while falling into rambles upon rambles of heightening anxiety for your health. It was a rather endearing sight, knowing someone cares so deeply for your well-being, but you think the poor elf might just self-induce a heart attack if you let him continue like this, “It’s okay though Kreacher, I’m okay. Please just tell me about that secret room?”

Kreacher takes a moment to catch his breath and flush away his anxiety before answering, “Ladies of the noble and most ancient house of Black were the only ones, Mistress, they be the only ones allowed into the parlour,”

“Parlour?”

“The private parlour, Mistress, yes,” Kreacher nods, subconsciously flattening the wrinkles of his clothes with his hands, standing a little straighter and subtly puffing out his chest, “the powerful, esteemed ladies like to talk in priiiivateeee,” he drags out the word in a low tone, which spikes your interest and reaffirms your speculation on the room being used for dark purposes. 

“Is the doorway down the hall from the library, Kreacher?” he nods weakly, his curious eyes taking in your theorising face. “And you say that only the ladies of house Black have access to it?” Kreacher nods once more and you fear that, perhaps the house may be denying you access as you’re not a true lady of house Black. This is going to be a problem…

“The parlour can only open to the Mistress,” Kreacher affirms but you remain hopeless at it ever opening for you, “and only at a special time, yes — only then,”

“A special time?” you question, dismissing your earlier hopelessness when Kreacher shakes his head, trying to search for the right words. 

“The clock face must look a certain way,” so a specific time…

“What time does it open, Kreacher?” 

Not knowing the answer, Kreacher seeks refuge behind the sofa of your office’s seating area, “Only Mistresses of Black know, Masters of Black do not! Strangers do not! Kreacher does not! Only Mistresses!” not wanting him to work himself up, you quickly placate his high emotions. 

“Thank you, Kreacher,” the house elf freezes in place and looks at you hesitantly but with rounded, hopeful eyes. Though, he almost seems to frown deeper at the sight of your warm smile, “You were very helpful, thank you,” he nods slowly, looking at his feet and silently accepting your gratitude. “You may rest for the evening now. Goodnight Kreacher,” Kreacher nods meekly and hesitates for a moment before disappearing with the same popping sound he had appeared in.

With a sigh of defeat, you collapse into your chair and ruminate over the frustratingly incomplete answers Kreacher had given. In the place of answers grew more questions. It’s getting late already but you don’t think you’ll be able to sleep with all the questions to keep you awake. But then you find your eyes transfixed on the desk calendar Walburga had been maintaining before you arrived. You find it hard to look away from the monthly timetable and eventually begin to reach for it. 

Subconsciously, you flick back through the months, needing something to do in order to rest your overactive thoughts. Landing on August, you fondly trace August 1st with your finger. The day you had first arrived and given the blessings that were your two sons. Warm affection blooms in your chest at the thought of your darling boys and the privilege of being their mother. You almost miss the pearlescent ink marking the day ‘Ritual (P - 5 pm)’. The almost transparent words make you freeze up and all thoughts pertaining to the private room, return. They reach out to you from the page in their pearlescent, bold and shaking letters, screaming at you to pay them the utmost attention and to disregard the regular black-ink notations occupying other days. Shakily—you just realised it was your hand that was shaking the calendar—you flip back to July. Almost every day is marked with ‘P - 5 pm’.  

What was that disgusting bitch doing?!  

‘YOU WORTHLESS, GOOD-FOR-NOTHING MUGGLE!’ Walburga shrieks in her offence, triggering yet another skull-fracturing migraine, ‘YOU ARE NOT PERMITTED TO GO SEARCHING FOR THE PARLOUR! SOMEONE LIKE YOU IS NOT ALLOWED! I CAN HARDLY BELIEVE YOU WERE ABLE TO SEE THE INK! NOBODY SEES THE INK BUT ME!’

‘Must be some special-ass ink…’ was the last thing you remember thinking before falling into darkness.  

12 Grimmauld Place | 13th September 1971 

The following day, you awake in your bed and groan at the ceiling’s offending sight. You dread to look at your nightstand, already knowing there’s no escape from the magenta healing potion you would need to take. A slight tilt of your head reveals the phial in your periphery and you resolve to avoid directly looking at the disgusting concoction in hopes of delaying your need to drink it. 

As you continue to lay in bed, the weight at your side becomes more and more obvious through the foggy haze obscuring the most conscious parts of your mind. When you finally look down to see the source, your face blooms into a warm smile and you have to keep yourself from cooing aloud. Cuddled up into your side was Regulus. He lay atop the blankets with another blanket to keep him warm. Kreacher must have done that for him after taking you to your room. In a whisper, you call out to the house elf whilst manoeuvring yourself to sit against the headboard. Under the glow of motherly affection, you allow your fingers to gently comb through Regulus’ soft curls. Kreacher was at your side almost instantly and didn’t waste a second to urge the phial of healing potion into your hands. 

Shaking your head, you smile at the loyal elf and lean down to whisper your thanks before regretfully taking the potion from his grasp, “Thank you for making sure Regulus was taken care of, Kreacher,” the house elf doesn’t meet your eyes and simply nods at his young master. 

“Young master Regulus told me he wasn’t to be sleepin’ in his room with the Mistress being ill. K-Kreacher worries too loud when the Mistress faints…” he shook his head, droopy ears flopping, as he emphasised Regulus’ decision to stay by your side after causing a ruckus. 

“He’s such a stubborn child…” you voice with much fondness, eyes glittering as you look at Regulus’ peacefully sleeping form, “What a lucky mother, I am,” 

“Mistress must drink her healing potion, now,” Kreacher urges in a slightly shaking voice. You hesitate, “for Kreacher? Please?” at that, you finally drink the potion you hate so much, muttering a vow to never drink something so disgusting again. It was odd to the house elf that you wouldn’t drink the potion for yourself but rather for his sake. He found that if he said those words and followed them with the magic word ‘please’, you would be willing to do even that much. The word ‘please’ wasn’t a spell to make someone do one’s bidding like the ‘Imperius Curse’ but Kreacher finds that the effects of ‘please’ are much more pleasant. He was taught this alongside the two young masters after your great fainting spell and change in demeanour. Kreacher learns a lot of new things from his Mistress every day and he finds that he enjoys it a lot. Unlike his Master Orion…

“Has my husband asked for his healing potion yet, Kreacher?” he shakes his head ‘no’, not really knowing what expression to make. On one end he detests seeing the suffering of his master as it means he’s being a bad house elf by not taking care of him well enough and that was ever house elf’s entire life’s purpose. On the other hand, Kreacher finds that he doesn’t care much for his Master’s suffering, at least, when compared to the Mistress and the two young masters, even Master Sirius. Kreacher finds it easier to be called upon by them rather than the patriarch. 

Smiling to yourself, you reiterate a very important point, “When my husband finally does ask, make sure he says ‘please’ before complying, Kreacher. Make him aware of this and that I specifically told you to do as such. My husband needs to learn some manners,” the playful wink you send Kreacher before chuckling to yourself, confirms the house elf’s suspicions but he resolves to do nothing about it. He simply follows the orders of his Mistress, that is how he stays a good house elf after all. “Kreacher, can you fetch my calendar, from my desk please?” like now, Kreacher was away and back with your desk calendar with two snaps of his fingers. He watches you with rounded eyes as you flip to July and show him the blank spaces. “What do you see?”

“It is the month of July, Mistress,” Kreacher answers with some hesitance. It was a simple answer to a simple question. 

“Nothing else?” you arch a brow, “No writing?”

“K-Kreacher’s eyes see nothing but blank days, Mistress,” Kreacher anticipates being hit for the first time in months when you reach out your hand and he shuts his eyes tightly in anticipation, shrinking into himself. But you don’t hit him. Instead, he feels a soft caress atop his head and his ears wiggle in delight. This was a nice feeling, “That’ll do, Kreacher. Thank you,” of course, his mistress wouldn’t hit him, he’s a good house elf! At your side, Regulus begins to stir and you quickly ask the house elf for a small favour, “Can you please make us some breakfast in bed, Kreacher? One for Regulus and one for me. Make it a yummy treat for my son, pancakes with cut up fruit and a glass of milk. I’ll have a Full English…” you pondered to yourself for a moment before asking that he make the portions big, “so we can share with each other,” Kreacher nods and vanishes to make the best breakfast he can, following your instructions for him to the letter and remembering the way you prepared breakfasts without magic. 

Regulus slowly wakes to the comforting, familiar feeling of you gently stroking his head and combing your fingers through his hair. Peeking up at you, he smiles in relief at your kind eyes and warm expression. Even though he fell asleep from worry, waking up to his beautiful, kind mother like this made it all worthwhile. With a relieved whisper of ‘mother…’, he launches himself into your embrace and hugs you close, arms locked around your neck. The way your arms locked around his body gave him a feeling of completeness he didn’t want to let go of.

“I was worried you wouldn’t ever wake up, Mother! You haven’t had this bad of a fainting spell since that first time!”

“Never,” you whisper comfortingly into his ear, “I would never leave you like that, I love you too much,” your words have Regulus beaming brightly. 

“I love you too, Mother! I was so worried last night. You didn’t come to tuck me in so I snuck out of bed to check on you but Kreacher told me you no longer slept with Father and redirected me to your new room…” he bit his lip, not wanting to recount the paralysing panic he felt at the sight of your motionless form in bed. He had never seen a person look so still and it frightened him that that person was you. 

“I’m sorry I worried you so much,” Regulus nuzzles his small face into your neck for comfort and his muffled voice can only be heard because he was so close to your ear. 

“It’s okay… you’re all better now, right? That’s what matters most,”

“You’re right,” smiling softly, thoroughly warmhearted by his sweet words, you press a kiss to the side of his head, “Thank you for taking care of me while I wasn’t feeling well,” again, he muffles his response into your neck, unwilling to break away from your embrace. 

“You’re welcome,”

“I have Kreacher preparing breakfast for us so we can stay in bed this morning,” at that, he lifts his face from your shoulder to smile brightly at you. 

“Really?”

“Really really,” you nuzzle his nose with your own, you’re going to savour the privileges of being a mother before either of your two boys become rebellious, loud and angsty teenagers, “We have as long as it takes for him to make breakfast to snuggle in bed,”

As you cuddle in bed together, Regulus softly asks to be told a good story, not only to pass the time but to distract him from his worrying thoughts. He doesn’t like the potential implications of you experiencing a similarly concerning fainting spell to the first one you had suffered that fateful night. He doesn’t want you to be sick all the time. He only has one mother and you’re perfect now, he doesn’t want you leaving when he just got you…

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Breakfast in bed is a treat and you were happy to share it with your darling youngest. He had such good manners, even when having breakfast in bed. As requested, Kreacher prepared pancakes and cut fruit for Regulus and a Full English for you. 

“Wow! Thank you Kraecher,” Regulus smiles at the house elf who shyly returns the kind expression, “The portions are really big too,”

“So we can have a bit of each other’s if we fancy,” you wink and Regulus giggles with a nod, immediately handing over a pancake from his plate.  

The two of you spent an hour eating breakfast in bed, talking about nonsense. It was a moment you would treasure forever, you would remember the way Regulus’ eyes light up from the fluffiness of the pancakes and the way his smile never left his lips from the happiness he was experiencing while lost in the moment. 

Once breakfast was over, the two of you walked to the kitchen and decided to tidy up, happy to extend your time spent together. You would wash up while Regulus would dry and you would help each other put the dishes and cutlery away. Kreacher almost has a heart attack at the sight of you but his concern only made you both giggle. 

“Mistress is doing Kreacher’s job! Not allowed! Not allowed!” the poor house elf chants, tugging at his ears, staring at the scene with disbelieving, watery eyes, “Youngest master is not allowed to!”

“Don’t be so dramatic Kreacher,” you flash him a kind smile as Regulus giggles beside you and looks over his shoulder to smile kindly at Kreacher as well, “we want to do this as a ‘thank you’,” Kreacher is visibly unable to comprehend your words — he still has a long way to go when it comes to things like this. 

“It’s to thank you for making such a yummy breakfast for us,” Regulus adds with a small nod of kind acknowledgement. For a moment, Kreacher appears to silently accept the gesture but just as you and Regulus share a smile, Kreacher rushes forward with the same flurry of panic. He doesn’t accept the gesture at all.

“No! No no no! Not allowed!” But Kreacher is unable to get past you or Regulus and goes to slam his head against the wall nearby only to be stopped by you. Patiently, you press his face into the folds of your skirt and that is where your poor house elf stays, muffling his soft whimpers and clinging onto your dress for comfort as you softly whisper for him to calm himself, assuring that he’s still a good elf and worthy of serving House Black. Regulus smiles appreciatively up at you and finishes off drying the plates so you can both put them away. 

“Will Father be joining us for dinner tonight? I’ve hardly seen him as of late, surely he’s feeling better now,” Regulus comments after Kreacher finally leaves, assured by the small task you had given him to dust the Library.  

“Oh…” you avoid his eyes to keep him from seeing the devious smirk tugging at the edges of your lips, “he’s still feeling a little under the weather, my darling,” Regulus observes you curiously, his interest piqued at the fact that you don’t meet his eyes and there’s a sneaky smile hidden behind your fingers. “His stomachache is persistent so he’s been sequestering himself in his room and his diet remains to only be soup and bread — something light but nutritious so he can sustain himself,” Kneeling before Regulus, you meet his curious eyes warmly, “please don’t worry, darling, your father is going to be okay…”

Regulus nods, accepting your explanation. “I hope father gets better soon,” Even though his father was horrible to him, Regulus is still so incredibly kind and his words make your heart swell with pride. 

Cooing at his angelic image, you bring him into your arms and kiss his forehead, “How can a child be so precious? You’re so very kind Regulus, your father doesn’t deserve it after what he’s done to you,” 

Pink in the cheeks, Regulus shrugs nonchalantly, “It’s okay…everyone deserves kindness, right Mother?” his words were from one of the last lessons you had given the brothers before Sirius had to leave for his first year and now, although Orion is the least deserving person, you’re still so proud of your baby for remembering your wisdom. 

Regulus kept you company in your office as you waited for the grandfather clock to strike five in the afternoon. His lesson with Peony had already finished and he had just gotten done with consolidating his learning in the library. You had some letters to reply to as the Matriarch of the noble and most ancient house of Black while Regulus was eagerly writing his letter for Sirius. He was excited to use the colour-changing ink you had bought them during Sirius’ first-year shopping spree.

Replying to so many letters was getting tiring and your wrist was beginning to ache. You shouldn’t have procrastinated on responding. Hopefully, there was a spell you could do on the quill to make this easier, perhaps make it write as you spoke, the same way Rita Skeeter did. 

The frequency of your sighs increased through the labour of writing but all you needed to do was look up and see the diligence of your youngest son writing his letter to feel re-energised again. Smiling to yourself, you savour his innocent image a moment longer before opening the next letter in the pile. The penmanship was rather rough and scratchy, leaning towards print rather than cursive, it was a breath of fresh air from the swirling, loopy handwriting of all the other letters you’ve had to read and reply to. 

Opening the letter, you begin to read dismissively but your eagerness spikes when your wandering eyes glimpse the signed name at the bottom: Alphard Black. 

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Regulus reads his letter again and nods in satisfaction. This was his third draft of it but he felt his efforts to be worthwhile. Letters were a special occasion and something that made a person feel immediately special when they read a letter that’s addressed specifically to them so he wanted to put in a good effort for Sirius. He just hopes it reaches him in good time. 

“Mother,” Regulus stands with his letter in hand, ready for postage, “my letter is finished, may I deliver it to Sirius now, please?”

You smile warmly and nod, slipping Alphard’s letter into the main drawer of your desk. With a small wave of your hand, you gesture him over to you, “Would you like to give it a wax seal?”

Regulus’ eyes sparkled with excitement, “I’m allowed?”

“Of course, little love, come here,” you pull him into your lap and gesture to the apparatus around you to create a wax seal. “First, pick out the coloured wax you want for your seal,” Regulus picks metallic silver wax, a perfect choice for the black envelope he was sending it in, a signature of the Black Family. “Now you put it in this little spoon and melt it over the candle,” with an eager nod, Regulus holds the spoon over the candlelight and the two of you wait for it to melt together. 

“I think it’s melted now, Mother,” 

“Let me see…” he shows you, swirling around the liquid wax to demonstrate its fluidity and grins at your approving nod, “good good. Get the seal ready,” he diligently takes the Black Family seal in his other hand, “now, when you stamp the wax, don’t wiggle it around or else the design will get muddled,” Regulus gives an affirming nod and waits for your instruction to pour the wax before stamping it. He doesn’t wiggle it as you’ve advised. After a few moments, you whisper that it was finally okay for him to take away the stamp and he gasps in delight at the beautiful seal that was left behind. 

“Thank you, Mother!”

“Would you like to post it or ask Kreacher to post it for you?” 

“I’d like to post it please,” his request pulls you away from your desk, just in time as it was nearing 5 pm already. You patiently lead him to the family owl and watch with a smile as he hands over his letter and waves off the owl with a cheer. “Sirius is going to love the letter, darling,”

“I hope he sends one back soon!”

“I don’t doubt that he will,”

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

You’ve stationed yourself down the hall from the library. The same location where you had first fainted after falling into the world according the Regulus who was practising the piano in the reception room downstairs. Hearing his piano melodies travelling through the walls and floating up the stairs made you awe at how talented he is. The repeated melodies comforted your racing heart and eased the ache in your head as you waited in anticipation for the afternoon to finally reach five o’clock. There was nothing to go off of when you set about searching for this magically disappearing room. Kreacher described it as a private parlour where only the mistresses and ladies of the Black family could congregate to discuss confidential particulars. 

Only for the women…

It was a comforting thought, somewhat, that there was a sisterhood amongst the family. It makes you wonder how long the tradition has been taking place. Perhaps it wasn’t entirely for ill-intentioned meetings for dark magic. The optimistic part of you imagines the women of the Black family aching for a private room away from the men in their lives just to share a cup of tea and relax. Maybe meetings were held in contented silence, relishing in the calm and savouring the safety of the cliquish room. 

tick…tock…tick…tock…CLANG!

The grandfather clock gives a discordant chime down the hall at the lower floor and your heart spikes once again. You spin on your heel and face the dark, elegantly embellished wallpaper of the house. For a moment your brows furrow in confusion and disappointment when nothing happens, even when the grandfather clock finishes its chime and begins ticking normally again. 

Tick…tock…tick…tock…

You’re about to turn away in disappointment when a black door begins to appear on the wall before you. It rises from the floor as if answering a call to reveal itself by the grandfather clock’s afternoon chimes. The black wood it’s composed of shines like a black pearl as its glass components are decorated with iron embellishments that swirl over it in a symmetrical pattern. They keep the interior entirely secret. Once fully revealed, you awe at the grand entrance; it’s arched at the top and rather than a singular door, its double doors that open at the centre, pulled apart by swirling, gold doorknobs that appear recently polished. Only the best for the ladies and mistresses of the Black family, the noble and most ancient house. 

You don’t have the time to tame your thundering heart and grab at the gold handles before the door can disappear again. At the simple touch of your hand, a faint click meets your ears. It’s very reminiscent of a key turning in a lock and allows you to pull the double doors apart. As it was when you first arrived in this world, the room is pitch black and you have to squint in the darkness, blinking as your eyes adjust to the shadow-veiled environment. Thankfully, the light from the hallway manages to seem through from behind you as your silhouette stretches across the room’s expanse. You’re about to take a step forward when a pungent smell meets your nose and you sharply draw back with a hand over your mouth and nose. Eyes wide and finally adjusted to the darkness, you take in the various elements of the room as your panic gradually rises inside you, your mind racing.  

There appears to be a seating area for the prim conversations you had once imagined but the furniture was pushed away from its place at the centre of the room and the accompanying coffee table appears to have been thrown about, kept on its side on the far side of the room. In the corner, there’s a lady Chippendale English-style writing desk with its chair thrown down. Its desk space is cluttered, piled high with books with one at the centre, its aged pages ripped out and flung across the room. Brass artisan wall lights fitted with candles remain unlit on either side of a smashed mirror, victim to a fallen, heavy book below it, surrounded by its shattered remains. Black-out curtains that drape to the floor block out a window on the far end of the room, shielding the world from the parlour’s internal happenings. Two glass jars occupy the centre of the room, identically filled with unknown elements that cast the same dark silhouette within it. They’re stained with a mysterious liquid you were too scared to investigate further but the sight wasn’t as frightening as the avian-esque carcass rotting into the carpet at the centre of the room. The sight makes you choke and cough, realising the source of the sickening scent in the musty air. There’s an array of feathers that surround the skeletal remains and not too far from it is a knocked-over bird cage. It looks generic and indistinguishable from the one Sirius’ owl came it. 

Your racing mind flashes back to the interaction you shared with the shopkeeper at the Owlery for Sirius’ first-year Hogwarts shopping.   

“What happened to the last owl you purchased?” the shopkeeper asks suddenly, finally finished with preparing all the items and eying you warily. You feel Sirius and Regulus’ eyes on you from his question as well and hurry to make an excuse. This situation has grown very uncomfortable.

“Last owl?”

“Yes, the screech owl, from last week,”

Was this… was this the fate of that same owl?…

Unable to tolerate looking into the room further, you slam the double doors shut and collapse backwards into the railing beside the stairs. Your shaky hands grip the rails and try your best to keep your stomach still — you’re not going to be throwing up on the hallway carpet. 

“YOU FILTHY, CHEATING MUDBOOLD!!!” Walburga screeches loud enough for you to feel the ache at the forefront of your brain and the tender spots of your ears. Not this bitch again… “HOW DID YOU GET THE PARLOUR DOORS TO REVEAL ITSELF AND OPEN?! IT ONLY OPENS TO ME!”

“Not anymore…” you snipe weakly, as an overwhelming migraine floods through your head. She must be really angry at you. “K-Kreacher,” you call weakly but are too occupied with clutching your head, trying to suppress the pain, to hear the faint pop of your loyal hope elf appearing at your side. He’s panicked and doesn’t know what to do with himself as he calls to you frantically. Quickly, he realises you’re unable to even hear him, spiking his panic all over again.

“YOU ARE NOT A TRUE MISTRESS OF THE BLACK FAMILY! YOU ARE NOT A BLACK FAMILY LADY! DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT TOUCHING THAT BLASTED RITUAL OR THOSE CONFOUNDED BOOKS!”

There’s a knocking at your temples that gets harder and harder to ignore atop Walburga’s grating, pic-squealing caterwauls. It rises in volume above your hammering heartbeat and feels like an intruder trying to smash their way into your door. It’s invasive and makes you cry aloud from the tormenting pain — it’s almost as harrowing as your first arrival here. Memories of your past life flash before your eyes like an old-fashioned image projector, torturing you with snapshots of your most heart-aching moments: your ovarian cancer diagnosis, the surgery, your depressive state, and your husband leaving. But then it captures you beating the odds and rising from the ashes, you made something from the remains of your old life’s trajectory, successfully creating an economic empire and practising philanthropy for many other women who had to face the same devastating diagnosis as you. It all ends with an image of a heavy truck barrelling straight towards you and then you’re consumed by darkness.

navi. | series masterlist | next. 08 : ... →

A/N: back to the below 10k chapters haha! i'm thinking of going back to proofread and edit this chapter again in the future since i don't feel like I've properly done it this time because of some personal things going on. nevertheless, i hope you darlings enjoyed this chapter! thank you always for all the love and support, this series has been able to grow so much thanks to you darlings x

[thekqipond]

hi hope ure okay 🤗 will u be posting a chapter 7 preview?

i'm doing great, thank you (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)♡ i've been getting pretty busy lately and have just gotten over my monthly visit with mother nature (ಥ‿ಥ) so i'm sorry for being late with my preview. here it is for you!

DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER 7 (PREVIEW)

Screams rang out through the night, horrific and painful, that was what had woken Sirius up. Shaken by the disturbing sound, Sirius clambers out of bed to look out of the dorm room window. Like some sort of haunted picture, the full moon hangs suspended in the night sky, laying claim to its dominance over the vast expanse of space, outshining the stars and ousting all clouds that still linger. It glowed like the many poltergeists that roam Hogwarts’ halls but the moon’s presence was incomparably menacing. 

“What is that screaming?” Sirius utters, his grey eyes searching the landscape through his window for some form of explanation. 

“I don’t know but Remus still hasn’t returned,” James speaks up from the shadows, nearly making Sirius jump out of his skin. 

“W-wait, Remus isn’t back yet?” Peter asks, also slipping out of bed and the three make their way over to their friend’s absent bunk. “Where could he be?”

“I don’t know, but we’re going to find out,” James grins and holds up a cloak. 

“How is that gonna help us find out where Rem—” Sirius begins, rubbing his eyes from sleep but stutters to a stop when James’ figure disappears beneath the fabric. The eldest Black brother shares a look of surprise with Peter before turning a grin back to James who was now a floating head. 

“I like your thinking, James old chap!” Sirius jests and slips beneath the invisibility cloak with him. 

“Will we all be able to fit inside?” Peter’s eyes swim with a healthy level of uncertainty, only to be pulled under the cloak despite his protests. 

“We’ll fit, just keep in time with my pace and be very very quiet,”James warns and the two nod affirmatively, Sirius being much more enthusiastic compared to Peter’s hesitance. 

“I hope we find, Remus soon,” Sirius comments under his breath, pressed against James’ right as Peter staggers along at James’ left. 

“I know… with all that screaming outside, I hope he isn’t in any trouble.” The three make their way to the hospital wing but falter at a hallway junction. Which way was the hospital wing again? 

“I-I think we should go right,” Peter helpfully stutters after some thought. 

“I thought it was left?” Sirius scratches at his head as James gnaws on his inner cheek. The three collectively decide to go right for the time being and if it was wrong, they simply turn back and go the other way. 

Later that night, you ask Kreacher for more information. The topic clearly made Regulus uncomfortable and you didn’t want him to do anything he wasn’t comfortable with, which is why you didn’t ask any further questions, especially at the dinner table where the atmosphere should be lighter. Hopefully, you can fully dismiss all tensions from dinner when you tuck him into bed later on. 

Seated at your desk, you suppress the groans of discomfort that were being conducted through the walls from Orion’s private office — you can’t believe he’s still hasn’t asked Kreacher for a healing potion. But you suppose it’s fitting that his ego is making him suffer more at this point. You savour the sounds of his pain for only a few moments more before calling for Kreacher yourself. 

“Mistress has called for Kreacher?” the hunched house elf immediately asks after appearing before you with a pop. He remains ever aged and wrinkled but his unruffled demeanour and, somewhat, contented expression certainly makes him appear brighter. 

“Yes, I was wondering if the house had any secret rooms, perhaps down the hall from the library,” Kreacher gives you a skeptical look, one that was doused with suspicions you immediately set about diffusing, “it seems my fainting spells are getting to me and tampering with my memories,” At this, Kreacher’s expression morphs into worry and he begins to clutch tightly at his ragged clothes while falling into rambles upon rambles of heightening anxiety for your health. It was a rather endearing sight, knowing someone cares so deeply for your well-being, but you think the poor elf might just self-induce a heart attack if you let him continue like this, “it’s okay though Kreacher, I’m okay. Please just tell me about that secret room?”

Kreacher takes a moment to catch his breath and flush away his anxiety before answering, “Ladies of the noble and most ancient house of Black were the only ones, Mistress, they be the only ones allowed into the parlour,”

“Parlour?”

“The private parlour, Mistress, yes,” Kreacher nods, subconsciously flattening the wrinkles of his clothes with his hands, standing a little straighter and subtly puffing out his chest, “the powerful, esteemed ladies like to talk in priiiivateeee,” he drags out the word in a low tone, which spikes your interest and reaffirms your speculation on the room being used for dark purposes. 

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔݁ ˖

Regulus reads his letter again and nods in satisfaction. This was his third draft of it but he felt his efforts to be worthwhile. Letters were a special occasion and something that made a person feel immediately special when they read a letter that’s addressed specifically to them so he wanted to put in a good effort for Sirius. He just hopes it reaches him in good time. 

“Mother,” Regulus stands with his letter in hand, ready for postage, “my letter is finished, may I deliver it Sirius now, please?”

You smile warmly and nod, slipping Alphard’s letter into the main drawer of your desk. With a small wave of your hand, you gesture him over to you, “would you like to give it a wax seal?”

Regulus’ eyes sparkled with excitement, “I’m allowed?”

“Of course, little love, come here,” you pull him into your lap and gesture to the apparatus around you to create a wax seal.

“First, pick out the coloured wax you want for your seal,” Regulus picks metallic silver wax, a perfect choice for the black envelope he was sending it in, a signature of the Black Family. “Now you put it in this little spoon and melt it over the candle,” with an eager nod, Regulus holds the spoon over the candlelight and the two of you wait for it to melt together. 

“I think it’s melted now mother,” 

“Let me see…” he shows you, swirling around the liquid wax to demonstrate it’s fluidity and grins at your approving nod, “good good. Get the seal ready,” he diligently takes the Black Family seal in his other hand, “now, when you stamp the wax, don’t wiggle it around or else the design will get muddled,” Regulus gives an affirming nod and waits for your instruction to pour the wax before stamping it. He doesn’t wiggle it as you’ve advised. After a few moments, you whisper that it was finally okay for him to take away the stamp and he gasps in delight at the beautiful seal that was left behind. 

“Thank you, Mother!”

“Would you like to post it or ask Kreacher to post it for you?” 

“I’d like to post it please,” his request pulls you away from your desk, just in time as it was nearing 5pm already. You patiently lead him to the family owl and watch with a smile as he hands over his letter and waves off the owl with a cheer. “Sirius is going to love the letter, darling,”

“I hope he sends one back soon!”

“I don’t doubt that he will,”

navi. | series masterlist

i hope you darlings enjoyed the preview and are looking forward to the full chapter on 1st December!ヾ(。✪ω✪。)ｼ

[thekqipond]

DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER SIX

06 : POTIONEER

CHPT. SUM. : Orion is furious at Sirius' sorting and demands he be resorted bringing you and Regulus with him to Hogwarts where you catch a glimpse of Remus and finally remember who Damcoles Belby is. 

LENGTH : 13.1k

TAGS : domestic fluff ; mother-son moment between Sirius and reader ; Regulus is a precious baby ; Orion is a dickhead and a big baby ; fluff ; angst ; hurt/comfort ; Marauders becoming friends ; Damocles and Ruth are couple goals ; reader gets revenge for our baby.

TRIGGER WARNINGS : child abuse ; claustraphobia 

← PREV. 05 : SIRIUS: FIRST DAY | SERIES M.LIST

3rd September 1971

The day before had gone relatively well. Sirius and the other first years in his classes were still fascinated by the castle and its magic so the tour and introductory first lessons in the afternoon went smoothly. The first years were adjusting well. 

Today will be Sirius’ first full day of lessons and, although it’s daunting, his demeanour is exuberant. Knowing that he will be sharing classes with his new group of friends made him all the more excited. The previous night was spent mostly chatting with his dorm mates, being in bed by 10 pm but not sleeping until past midnight. It meant that he was down for breakfast later than what was ideal and to avoid worrying about rushing back to get ready in his dorm, Sirius made sure to get dressed and brought his book bag to breakfast. This was entirely Remus’ idea, which the boys were incredibly thankful to him for suggesting. The soft-spoken brunette was beginning to build a reputation for having a head full of sensible ideas, making up for what the rest of the group lacked. 

Sirius was just about to finish his plateful and reach for a serving of freshly cut fruit when a shadow appeared over him. It was Argus Filch, the caretaker of Hogwarts.  

“Can I help you?” Sirius asks, managing to quell his alarm and brace himself for what may come. Surely he wasn’t in trouble for anything already — there couldn’t possibly be anything he could be guilty of. James, Peter, and Remus looked up in curiosity, also having the same unanswered questions on their faces, silently seeking some sort of response to calm their startled nerves. 

“You’re needed at the Headmaster’s office,” Filch announces, his eyes gleaming with amusement at the sight of the group’s unanimous surprise and dread, although his expression remains largely dull and unimpressed. 

“…just me?” Sirius dreaded to ask. 

“Just you,”

“Why?” Sirius’ demand visibly irritates Filch but he answers nonetheless, happy to have done so when he’s rewarded with Sirius’ pale and ghostly expression — an explicit look of horror.

“Your father is here,” the edges of Filch’s lips seem to twitch but ultimately remain in a straight line, neither smirking nor frowning, “shouldn’t keep ‘im waitin’ now,” James was immediately vocal in his protests. He could tell that Sirius was petrified at the thought of his father and immediately assembled the pieces Sirius was willing to divulge the night before on his home life — his mother was supportive but his father was not. James’ bold protectiveness over Sirius was heartwarming, he never had anybody stand up for him against his father much like this. Primarily because not many were a witness to it and Sirius would like to keep it that way as much as possible. His mother protects him now but this was only recently. Before that, Sirius made sure to keep Regulus out of trouble, vowing to protect his little brother and avoid trouble for his sake alone. James’ display was refreshing and touched his heart. And it was what gave Sirius the strength to willingly go with Filch. 

Despite the bubbling dread in his stomach, Sirius keeps his chin high as he’s escorted to Dumbledore’s office. Although fearful at first, the prospect of facing his father at Hogwarts made Sirius more angry than anything else. Yes, he was shocked and, in that shock, terrified,  but for his father to behave so impudently by visiting Hogwarts was highly hypocritical when the man always demeaned Sirius and punished him whenever he behaved or spoke in a disorderly way. Their encounter was surely going to be an explosive one. 

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔݁ ˖

Orion was losing his patience. It wasn’t like him to act so brazenly but the current oddness of his wife had been provoking his displeasure. He’s been feeling the unpleasant bubbling for an entire month and endured it all. So it shouldn’t be a surprise that Sirius’ Gryffindor sorting finally made him blow up and throw about the house’s interior in a blind rage. Atop that, Orion had been even more disgraced but in his own home this time; his wife had ordered their filthy, useless house elf to move all her belongings into a spare bedroom. 

They no longer shared a bed. 

Imagine his surprise when, the following morning, he was greeted by his wife and son at the fireplace, ready to floo to Hogsmeade and journey to Hogwarts. 

“Regulus and I will be having breakfast at the Three Broomsticks,” you announced firmly, reminding him of the early hour. He had the open invitation to join you both but Orion refused, demanding that the matter with Sirius was urgent and that there wasn’t any need for breakfast. But he should have listened to his wife. When he charged up to Hogwarts ahead and was greeted by Dumbledore, the wistful headmaster had him wait around until he was finished with his breakfast before Sirius was finally called for, requesting that the Squib caretaker do the retrieving. Now, Orion sat in the office with an empty stomach and only his anger fuelling him. 

“I hope that your boy has had the time to eat his breakfast as well,” Orion looks at the headmaster, stopping his impatient foot tapping when he notices the mysterious gleam in the elderly wizard’s eyes, “we wouldn’t want him going to class with an empty stomach,” 

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔݁ ˖

Orion was an idiot. You had an idiot for a husband. The thought made you roll your eyes and scoff irritably. Men were so pigheaded sometimes, do they even realise how annoying they can be? 

Observing Regulus as he wiped the crumbs off his mouth with a napkin was all you needed to ease your mounting irritation, however. Your sons won’t grow up unpleasantly like that; you know that your boys will be true gentlemen, naturally, with their own personal idiosyncrasies but, unlike your foolish husband, they’ll be chivalrous, well-mannered and receptive, you’ll see to that personally. Orion won’t have any influence over them. This is your new life’s mission now. 

“I’m all done now, Mother,” Regulus announces with a somewhat sheepish smile as you grin with amusement against the lip of your teacup. He knows he didn’t pay the best attention to his etiquette when devouring his plate of breakfast at The Three Broomsticks but you don’t seem to mind so maybe he’ll get away with it… Little did he know that you found him incredibly adorable and enjoyed the way he appeared more like a child his age for once. 

“That’s good, dear,” your calm demeanour and slow actions makes slight panic flash in Regulus’ eyes. He’s concerned at the lack of action, the passing of time and the idea that he won’t be there when his father and brother meet, “we will keep our promise, Regulus, I assure you,” his endearing worry is met with your kind smile, “I’m sure Sirius is enjoying his breakfast right now too,” the growing smirk on your lips begins to reflect on your youngest, who immediately catches onto your cheekiness. 

“I-I suppose father will be going without any breakfast then…” Regulus comments, taking a sip of his apple juice. 

“Darling, who are we to get in the way of your father’s demands? He was ever so insistent,” an amused giggle passes between the two of you and Regulus is finally able to relax a bit. He makes a mental note to write about your uncharacteristic mischief to Sirius in an upcoming letter. He had been meaning to write a letter congratulating Sirius on his sorting but thought it better to voice in person instead after you invited him to Hogwarts under Orion’s furious insistence.

You took some minutes to enjoy the rest of your breakfast before announcing your departure. 

“Come again soon, Mrs Black! Both you and your son are always welcome,” Madam Rosmerta shouts warmly as she waves you and Regulus off with the beer mug she had been polishing. 

“Of course, Madam Rosmerta. Until then, take care!” you call back, smiling happily at the woman. 

Unfortunately, you didn’t account for arriving at Hogwarts castle without a guide ready to escort you from the grand entrance to the Headmaster’s office. It was pure luck that you were spotted by one of your favourite characters and immediately taken to your destination. 

“The headmaster speculated you’d be arriving here,” McGonagall spoke stiffly but warmly in her distinctive Scottish intonation. Following a brief introduction of all parties, she finally begins to lead you and Regulus to the Headmaster’s office. She looked much younger than she did in the films, yet to be worn down by the mischief the marauders cause only to be succeeded by the Weasley twins, coming to wreak the same havoc and closely followed by the golden trio. It was nice to see her modelling such a reliable and tenacious character before Dumbledore manipulates her into becoming hesitant and unreliable, inconstant with her trustworthiness amongst the students. This prestigious school deserved a headmaster who cared for their pupils equally, unswayed by bias – someone fair and trustworthy, not just powerful. In your eyes, that was McGonagall. And you were going to put her in that position yourself. 

“I appreciate that, and I appreciate you coming to collect us,” you voice politely, offering a smile that she appeared taken aback by. She’s been influenced by the rumours as well. Walburga’s magisterial ways and elitism precede her. It was annoying. But, you’ll admit that it’s amusing to see the surprise on people’s faces when you distinguish all those claims personally. Not only are you making a new name for yourself but you also have the satisfaction of tarnishing the bitch in your head’s reputation. That was more fulfilling than anything.     

“It is only the correct thing to do,” 

“Are things always that black and white?” Minerva doesn’t know how to answer your sudden, cryptic comment and you have the slight mind to apologise for your loose lips. Not only was the deputy headmistress caught off guard by the question but she was dumbstruck by the question coming from you, the woman who openly expresses her abhor of muggle borns and blood ‘traitors’ — you and your bloodline were the most ‘black-and-white’ people in wizarding society. To say that McGonagall was speechless was an understatement. To her relief, you breeze past the comment entirely, “I apologise for my husband’s brash behaviour, it’s truly insufferable how audacious he is, sometimes,”  

Clearing her throat, McGonagall goes for the professional response, although she was highly tempted to agree with you, “all parents have a right to have a say in their children’s education,” 

“This goes beyond mere education, professor,” you look into her eyes and are met with agreement, “Surely, you can agree that the matter is useless kicking up such a fuss over and that my husband is entirely wrong. In this matter, I am right in saying he is being an idiot by publicly throwing a tantrum,” you tut in displeasure, “The humiliation of it all is almost unbearable,” at your side, you hear Regulus choke on his laughter and crack a smile, giving his small hand a light squeeze. Finally, McGonagall allows a smirk to stretch across her lips but before she can make any comment of agreement, you’ve already reached the gargoyle entrance to the Headmaster’s office.  

“The password is ‘Pear Drops’,” With a wave of her hand, the gargoyles reveal a spiralling staircase to the Headmaster’s office, “good luck,” she nods at you and you watch as her expression softens ever so slightly to face Regulus and bid him a soft goodbye, “hopefully, our next meeting will be a more pleasant one, down by the great hall on your first year,” Regulus smiles and nods, waving her goodbye. She offers a smile to both of you and turns with a swift swish of her thick, draping robes. McGonagall never expected you to be so warm and pleasant —it’s easy to misjudge the character of a person simply from third-party accounts and retellings. She’ll have to rethink her own prejudices and biases moving forward.  

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔݁ ˖

Sirius hadn’t arrived yet. As soon as you sat down, Orion was already gritting his teeth, the squareness of his jaw making his frustrations obvious. 

“I told you so,” you voice blankly and with an unamused face to match. Orion didn’t say a word — he couldn’t. He was already facing the consequences of his impatience as his stomach tried to eat itself from hunger. Dumbledore raises a questioning brow at the interaction but doesn’t say anything. Instead, the headmaster turns to Regulus with a kind smile and offers him the latest muggle sweet he’s grown a recent taste for, the password to his office, Pear Drops. 

“Try some, my boy, I promise they’re a delight,” Regulus looks to you, silently asking for permission. 

You smile softly and nod, “Go right ahead dear but you’ve had a rather hearty breakfast, why don’t you save it for a special treat later on?” Regulus nods and reaches for a small handful of the sweets to pocket in the meantime, however, his small, pale hand is smacked away by Orion who hisses angrily through clenched teeth. 

“No son of mine dabbles in any muggle sweets — it’s unbecoming, Regulus!” 

It was thankful that Orion was already clenching his teeth when you slapped him across the face or else he would have bitten straight through his tongue at the force of your firm hand. 

“Touch my son again, and you’ll be falling from the tower without your wand, Orion,” you threaten through clenched teeth of your own as the man stares at you in wide-eyed shock, his expression reflected onto the Headmaster. 

The reddening hand mark on your husband’s pale cheek isn’t nearly enough to contain your rage. Your shoulders and hands shake from the barely contained wrath bubbling in your veins, you don’t even register how your palm was stinging from the slap as well. Rather than divorcing the stinking pile of shit you have for a husband, you’ll end up murdering him instead. Regulus cuddling up to your side was the only thing able to extinguish the violent rage shooting through your bloodstream but seeing the reddening of his small hand from Orion was quickly reigniting the fire within you. 

“You can’t just—” You don’t know what shameless words he planned on stitching together as a poor explanation of his actions but you were having none of it.

“Shut your mouth!” you hiss once more, eyes narrowing at him, “I said he could have some so he’s having some! How dare you publicly cause a commotion like this over Sirius’ sorting andhave the cheek to harm Regulus on top of that! And over muggle sweets?! Have some decorum, Orion! How embarrassing!” Orion appears to shrink in his seat as you lean over more and more with each word. You didn’t see it but Regulus no longer had tears lining the seams of his precious, silver eyes, instead, they were filled with glittering admiration and love at the sight of you defending him. If only Sirius could see their mother like this, he would no longer have any cause for worry about being away at Hogwarts while he stays home. 

“Ahem!” All heads turn to the entrance where Sirius stares on at the scene, wide-eyed and with a delinquent smirk tugging at the edges of his lips. It isn’t until his eyes meet his father’s infuriated ones that Sirius finds the will to conceal his satisfaction. What he had just witnessed was admirable and a laugh desperately tried to push past his lips but he resisted; he was still on the chopping block for his father to rip apart. Although, knowing that you’re also here, eases Sirius’ worries.  

“Sirius,” you breathe with a smile, your expression immediately warming up at the sight of your firstborn. It hasn’t even been a full three days since you’ve last seen him but the effects of missing him were substantial enough that you were able to easily decompress from your heated exchange with Orion. 

“Get over here, boy,” Orion seethes through clenched teeth, his attention averted. Knowing that his son stood before him as a proud Gryffindor and without an ounce of regret for the shame he has befallen their family makes the patriarch clench his fist so hard that his knuckles turn a paper-white. Sirius doesn’t move, he doesn’t even spare him a glance and when Orion follows his son’s gaze, he’s surprised to note that his gaze is fixed on his mother. 

“Feel free to take any available seat,” Dumbledore offers kindly, observing the scene with a curious glint in his eyes. 

“Please come and sit with your brother and me, dear,” you barely finish your words before Sirius moves across the Headmaster’s office to sit beside Regulus, who has promptly pulled away from you to admire his brother. 

“Thank you for arriving so promptly, Sirius,” Dumbledore begins, eyeing the substantial gap between the two parents before settling his twinkling gaze over the first year, “I hope your breakfast wasn’t interrupted too terribly by the sudden meeting,”

Sirius offers polite understanding over the disruption to his morning despite it only being the third day of school. At the sight of Sirius’ clenching and unclenching fists, you can tell that seeing his father was an annoyance, however, you’re proud of his ability to school his expression. He’s already grown up so much…

Giving a slow nod, Dumbledore directs everyone’s attention to Orion, who was barely holding himself together at the unnecessary —in his eyes only — exchange of pleasantries, “Your father has some troubles over your sorting,”

Sirius pays his father no mind as the pathetic man slams his hardened fist against Dumbledore’s wooden desk, “I DEMAND THAT THE SORTING BE REDONE! THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE!” the frightening volume of your reprehensible husband’s words makes Regulus’ shoulders shake but you and Sirius were there for him. Flanked on either side of the youngest, you were able to bring Regulus into your side for a comforting sideways embrace while Sirius reached over to console his brother by threading their fingers together and clasping his hand tightly. Regulus immediately begins to calm down and smiles to himself at the warm feeling of protection surrounding him. 

“…It cannot be done, Mr Black,” Dumbledore states matter-of-factly in a serene voice that bodes no fear for the wrath of your husband. 

“EXCUSE ME?! CLEARLY THIS WAS A MISTAKE—”

“The sorting hat makes no mistakes,” Dumbledore was so firm in his statement, that Orion was left stammering with disbelief. It makes you smirk with a sort of evil satisfaction. What will he say next? 

“That’s impossible! For that tattered old thing to have made no mistakes whatsoever?!” Orion finally has the decency to lower his voice though, not by much. 

“You are free to doubt the sorting hat as you wish Mr Black but it is indisputable and Sirius will not be resorted,”

“Of course not!” you pipe up, pinning your husband with a harsh glare, “For the sake of your own ego and pride, Orion, how could you demand such a thing? This whole fiasco is far more embarrassing than our son being sorted into the house of bravery and courage. Get over yourself. Our son will miss his lesson at this rate. I apologise, headmaster, for my husband’s shameful behaviour, I assure you that my son will behave far more gracefully,” turning away from your staggering husband and the amused headmaster, you look at Sirius with pride. Leaning over Regulus to press a kiss onto his older brother’s forehead he’s able to hear your tender whisper of pride, “I’m so proud of you, darling,”

You leave a humiliated, red-faced Orion to argue with Dumbledore, who handles the overgrown baby’s temper tantrum with grace. It was much appreciated and you were willing to applaud the old wizard if it weren’t for your existing hatred and secret plot to rid him of his position as headmaster. You’ve led Sirius and Regulus to stand quite a distance away from the two so that you could share a private moment, the attention mainly pointed towards your grinning firstborn. 

“Have you received the gift I sent you?” you ask in a whisper as you hold Sirius in a loving embrace, his arms wrap around your shoulders and he presses his nose into your loose hair — you smell like a mixture of milky vanilla, calming lavender, fruity current and flowery jasmine, it’s not like any fragrance he’s ever smelled on you but he’s grown to find comfort in it. He nods and you silently ask for the pin’s whereabouts. 

Sirius reaches into the breast pocket of his school robes, now embellished with the colours of Gryffindor, daring red and enchanting gold. He brings up his fist and unfurls his fingers to reveal the unworn pin. From the side, Regulus gasps at the beauty of such a small and intricate accessory. Smiling, you read off the personal message you engraved on the back before fastening the pin onto his grey cardigan, “A shield to protect my brave, daring and noble son,” you lean back and give him a once over. Sirius can see the visible lining of tears that gather at the edges of your waterline and his breath stills — it was one thing to read of your happiness and pride for his accomplishment at being sorted into Gryffindor but it was another thing entirely to hear the words from you firsthand and to watch as happy tears blur your vision. Sirius has never seen his mother be so happy and proud that she begins to tear up, Regulus hasn’t either and both stare at you in wonderment. Sirius feels as though he would begin to cry himself but refrains from doing so when Regulus looks at him with a bright grin and glimmering eyes of admiration. Regulus was proud and happy for him too…  

Reaching forward, you pat down the lapels of Sirius’ robes, “goodness, you look so handsome in your school robes,” you share a breathless laugh with your bashful, first-year son before bringing him into another embrace. This one feels tighter, “are you truly my son? I can’t believe it!”

“Of course, I’m your son,” Sirius pouts into your shoulder, trying to counteract his glowing grin, somehow, but it’s no use; the urge to smile from the acceptance and the happiness was too overpowering. 

“This feels like a dream…” you whisper into the air and Sirius is brought back to the time he witnessed the affectionate exchange between his mother and younger brother at the home library doorway. He remembers feeling his heart ache and clench before finally shattering into painfully sharp pieces, engulfed by spite and jealousy. But now… you were saying the same words to him…

“…a dream come true?” Sirius asks so softly and with much insecurity, you can’t help but squeeze him tighter. 

“Yes!” you’re giddy with happiness and it’s infectious, even onto Regulus who was momentarily saddened at his older brother’s innocent wants and endurance, silently suffering from that fateful day at the Library, where everything had changed. While Regulus was floating on air from the merriment, his confident, protective and loving older brother was dealt a painful blow right to the heart. He wants to reach out and hug him tight and apologise for not noticing sooner.

“A dream come true, it’s just that.” you laugh again, “I still can’t believe it — you’re my son,” Sirius smiles as you cup his cherubic face with your gentle, loving hands. He’s stuck between jumping for joy and doing a happy dance but settles for shyly avoiding your gaze and smiling down at your wrists, where he witnesses your thumbs lovingly caressing his cheekbones in his periphery. 

“I’m your son…”

“You’re my son…” you kiss his cheek and pull away. Regulus had been inching closer and closer throughout your interaction and you could practically taste his eagerness in the air, wanting to pull his older brother into a warm embrace, himself.

Happily, you allow the two to share a moment and they don’t waste any time holding one another tightly. “I can’t believe you’re a Gryffindor, Siri! Your pin looks so beautiful. Mother did a really good job with it. I wonder where she got it made and how… I hope I get one too…” Sirius, knowing the elation the pin had given him when he had first received it and even more when he read the personalised message engraved on the back, didn’t want to deprive his brother of the same feeling, not a single bit. Looking over at you, he meets your eyes and is immediately assured by the smile dancing on your lips. 

“Of course, you’ll get a pin too, baby,” you seal the promise by pressing a kiss to the back of Regulus’ head, who spins around to face you so quickly, you fear he might have gotten whiplash but the smile on his face was enough assurance. 

“Really, Mother?”

“Really really,”

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔݁ ˖

Sirius returns to the great hall with enough time to spare. His Gryffindor pin is proudly displayed on the chest of his cardigan as he finishes breakfast with his group of friends. Upon his return, they ask him the obvious questions. 

“Is everything okay?

“What happened?”

“Are you alright?” 

“What was the meeting about?” 

Sirius could hardly answer anything from the flurry of overlapping voices and questions he was being bombarded with, other students were even beginning to look at him with curiosity after witnessing his departure with Filch. However, something in the distance catches his attention. The boys follow Sirius’s distracted gaze as soon as he turns away, not having answered a single query. At the open entrance of the great hall, they witness Orion’s scowling face pass swiftly, barely casting a glance at Sirius. He can’t believe his father is being so childish but it was satisfying to watch and listen to his mother treat him like a child too — a child who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Behind him, Regulus appears at your side, walking at a more leisurely pace. You and his little brother take a moment to lock eyes with him from the great hall entrance. Both of you smile and give him a small wave, leaving unhurriedly when he returns the gesture. But not before you blow him a kiss with a devious smile on your lips. 

Despite the tender moment you shared in Dumbledore’s office, of course, you would still want to embarrass him in front of his friends! Sirius wasn’t mad though — it was quite reassuring to see a mischievous side to his mother.

“Th-that’s your mum?” Peter squeaks nervously. He’s heard of the ancient and noble Black family before. And he’s heard a lot about the notoriously disdainful patriarch and matriarch, Orion and Walburga Black so your uncharacteristic actions make him flounder, “I-I didn’t know your mother was capable of smiling like that…” 

“Me neither,” Sirius replies with a grin, but I’m glad I know now. 

“She’s pretty,” James comments, almost gushing as Remus nods along demurely, blushing down into his morning tea. 

“Why did she look at me like that?…” Remus whispers against the lip of his teacup. 

“What was that?” Sirius asks with a curious tilt of his head. He didn’t quite manage to catch what Remus had said but his muttering was enough to pique his interest. In his embarrassment and distracted thoughts from when you had blown him a kiss, Sirius failed to notice the way your gaze lingered on Remus, who noticed an unknown glint come to life in your eyes. “Remus?”

“—N-nothing! It was nothing… nevermind,”

4th September 1971

You can’t get over how adorable the marauders look as first years. They might as well be little babies, their cheeks still possess some youthful plumpness and they look ready to grow into their school robes with much more fullness. However, as adorable as you found them to be, you have much more important and urgent matters that need tending to. You can’t believe how you’d forgotten such an important detail until now but seeing Remus was what you needed for the pieces to finally fit together. 

Damocles Belby. Inventor of the Wolfsbane potion in the 1990s. You aren’t sure about the exact year but it definitely wasn’t invented while Remus was in Hogwarts. That was why you were drawn to his quaint potions shop and why his name has been lingering in the back of your mind since that day. 

Regulus didn’t have any classes with Peony today as it was Saturday and you weren’t entirely comfortable with leaving him alone as Orion was out on business. You didn’t hear of his departure personally, he had Kreacher come and notify you in his stead. He’s still being an overgrown baby about what happened in Hogwarts. 

Dumbledore continued to refuse on the matter of Sirius’ re-sorting and firmly refused all attempts of bribery on your husband’s part. It was an unreasonable request and you were all sent out soon after so that Sirius could finish his breakfast and attend his lessons on time. Admittedly, it was better to receive the news from Kreacher rather than Orion. Despite the action being petty and out of anger, you were more than happy with the arrangement and you’ll be sure to return the gesture – whenever you want to relay a message to him, you’ll ask Kreacher for his assistance too. 

Your droopy house elf sees the mischief in your eyes and immediately notices the lack of offence to Orion’s backhanded pettiness when he hiccuped through the message he was sent to deliver. His mistress has changed so much… though he cannot argue that most of the change was pleasant. 

“I hope you’ll forgive me for arranging an outing so suddenly like this,” you sheepishly apologise, helping Regulus with his suspenders before he pulls his cardigan over his neatly pressed shirt. 

“It’s okay, Mother,” he flashes you a precious grin, “I enjoy spending time with you like this,”

It was hard to resist his sweet words and you’re immediately pulling him into an embrace, pressing light kisses onto his face. Regulus flushes a bright pink when you squeal about how ‘sweet’ and ‘precious’ and ‘charming’ he was. You’ve become so much more affectionate and, even though it’s not an unpleasant change, Regulus still finds it hard to adapt to. However, he can’t say he wants to forget or take for granted the feeling of elation and warmth that floods his chest whenever you act lovingly — he’s always dreamed of receiving affection from his mother like this. 

“Please never grow up my darling,” you sigh, already knowing the truth as you lead him to the fireplace where you’ll floo to Diagon Alley together, “but I suppose you’ll always be my little boy, so growing up won’t be too bad,” Regulus doesn’t openly admit that he wouldn’t mind being the way he is forever so long as you continue being such a wonderful mother. 

“Where will we be going, Mother?” Regulus looks up at you with curious eyes upon exiting the fireplace soot-free. He’s already reaching for your hand so you don’t lose each other in the crowds. 

“We’ll be visiting Mr Belby,” you smile fondly at the grin Regulus flashes you. He surely remembers the lovely couple owning the potion shop from when you went first-year shopping for Sirius. 

“I know where that is,” he pipes up when you look around curiously, trying to map out your journey. 

“Oh? Then do you mind leading me the way there, darling?”

“Of course, Mother, this way,” he steps forward and begins leading you along the cobblestone paths. Belby’s Potions and Ingredients was quite reserved compared to the other shops, which made it hard to distinguish, especially when it’s the weekend and more people are out and about.

“You’re so clever, thank you, darling,” you press a kiss onto the crown of Regulus’ head when he leads you beneath the hanging sign of the shop. 

Regulus grins and his chest puffs out ever so slightly, “you’re welcome, Mother,”

Observing the shop in front of you, your brows furrow with worry, “why does it look closed?” despite the observation, you knock on the door while squinting through the empty shop windows. Their sign states they’re open from Monday to Friday between the hours of 8 am and 5 pm. “They should still be open, it’s only 11 o’clock in the morning…” you knock again with more insistence and shout through the door, worried for the couple. Regulus observes your panic with anxious eyes and begins to feel the distress melting into his thoughts and feelings. The Belby couple were lovely, they were good people that no misfortune should ever try to pollute so he dreads to think they’re in any trouble. Your knocks sound as if you were determined to break their door down just to get inside, you were tempted to cast ‘alohamora’ but there would be no use for that, you’ll be arrested for trying to commit ‘breaking and entering’ in broad daylight.  

It wasn’t until Damocles himself seemingly appeared out of nowhere, looking dishevelled and sleep-deprived that you finally stopped knocking, “Madam Black,” Damocles acknowledges as soon as he opens the door to you and Regulus, “I’m afraid we’re closed for today,” to emphasise his point, he presses the closed sign onto the window of his shop’s door.

“Mr Belby, I apologise for being so demanding but this is urgent,” you try to argue, feeling the distant press of Regulus against your legs, his arms circling your waist for comfort. He doesn’t know what’s happening but to see his mother and the kind Mr Belby interact in such a state of distress made him nervous. This was so opposite to their first interaction at the shop. 

“I-I’m afraid I have far more urgent matters to attend to as of this moment,” he reasons breathlessly, trying to close the door shut but you’re determined. Your mind has been set — not only were you going to help Sirius and Regulus but you were going to be there for Remus too. 

“I insist that what I have to say to you is very important as well!”

Damocles incessantly shakes his head, his lips pressed into a thin line as his knuckles turn white from how hard he’s gripping his shop’s door handle, “my dearest Ruth is my top priority right now and she’s terribly sick at the moment, please — I’m sure this can wait!” with that, he slams the door shut, causing you and Regulus to flinch at the harsh sound. You didn’t want to hold off on the situation but you know when a line is drawn and Damocles’ insistent refusal of your entry was more than enough to tell you to back away. 

His behaviour was rather odd, however. When you first met the man and his wife, they were beyond lovely. Both were incredibly welcoming and warm, looking down at Regulus, you see the confusion in his clear, steel-grey eyes also. 

“Let's try again on Monday, darling,” Regulus nods at your suggestion. His small brows were furrowed with concern and he seemed hesitant to look away from you despite the smile of reassurance you give him. It warmed your heart seeing how troubled he was over your predicament with Mr Belby; you couldn’t resist kissing away the wrinkle between his brows, “don’t worry, my dear, patience is key when it comes to things like this,” 

Giving one last lingering glance at Belby’s Potions and Ingredients, you redirect Regulus to Gringotts. It rose higher than any of the other buildings in Diagon Alley so it was relatively easy to spot and head towards. Before heading home for the day, you had one more errand to take care of. 

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔݁ ˖

Filgus was easy to spot, he was the goblin you immediately walked to upon entering the opulent establishment. His sharp, angular features help hold up a monocle over his right eye as a gold chain trails down to the breast pocket of his smart, black suit, though he wears no tie. His healthy head of silver hair is pushed back and tied into a small ponytail at the base of his neck. He looks much younger than his colleagues from the largely less wrinkled visage of his countenance, it was no wonder that entertained your previous request. 

“Madam Black,” Filgus smiles at you, content with your polite, formal greeting. He smiles at Regulus too, who mirrors the goblin greeting at your side, “How may I help you?” he smirks beneath his long and pointed nose. Past the reflections of his monocle, you catch a faint gleam in his eyes, though you can’t comprehend exactly what emotion stands behind it. Was it excitement? Curiosity? Something else entirely, perhaps… “Will you be requesting another commission for our services?” you smile, finally understanding the look in his black, black eyes. 

“Although I highly commend your metalsmith expertise, I am here for a different affair,“ your words pique Regulus’ interest and he begins to speculate whether you had the goblins make Sirius’ Gryffindor pin – it would be an incredible feat if you did, "I only hope to open two new vaults today,” your request eases Filgus’ posture and his action to lean back make you realise the full extent of his previous excitement. It almost makes you want to apologise for not meeting his expectations. 

The first time you had come to him for a commission request, he had been surprised and you suppose he had been able to conceal his delight well but now his disappointment was more obvious. It made you want to giggle but you didn’t want to accidentally offend him or any of the other goblins nearby so you kept your amusement to yourself. 

“That’s simple enough,”

“I want both vaults to have the same precautions and safeguards as the Black family vaults,” his quill stops momentarily as he makes a point of raising a brow at your specifications. A beat passes and he finishes off what he was writing. 

“Who will these vaults be for?”

“They will be for my sons. One for Sirius Orion Black the third,” you reach over to wrap your arm around Regulus’ small shoulders, “and the other for Regulus Arcturus Black,” 

“Unusual,” Filgus comments under his breath but makes his notes regardless of the uncommon application from the Black family matriarch herself. This was not tradition for ancient, noble wizarding families to create a separate vault entirely when they all simply shared one vault. The only reason for something like this to happen would be when someone was disowned by their family and are forced to start from a completely empty vault. Filgus looks up from the parchment he was writing on, only to meet eyes with Regulus who looks white as a ghost and frozen with fear. The sight makes the goblin chuckle under his breath and shakes his head subtly. Even if he wanted to, he had no words of comfort to offer the young wizard. 

“I want the vaults for my sons to be entirely separate from the Black family vaults — nowhere near it,”

“Consider it done. The keys and paperwork will be delivered to you soon enough,”

“Thank you very much, Filgus,” you nod with a smile, “and I assure you that I will be back to request another commission soon enough,” he smirks beneath his pointed nose and his black eyes seem to light up despite their soulless darkness. He says nothing more as you lead Regulus out of Gringotts for the journey home.  

Beside you, Regulus is filled with dread to the point that he feels sick. Getting a separate vault means only one thing and the realisation makes his eyes sting with globulous tears. Looking up at you, his mind flashes with all the happy memories you’ve shared with him and Sirius the past month or so — was that all just a lie? Were you such a good actor that you managed to babble that prideful speech to Sirius at Hogwarts on the spot? Did you always mean to disown them? But then why did you put so much effort into bonding with them like this? It’s too cruel…

“Darling!” you panic at the river of tears running down Regulus’ flushed cheeks. Stepping out of Gringotts, you were just about to ask Regulus if he’d fancy stopping by a sweet shop to bring something yummy home to indulge in and maybe get something for Kreacher too, only to be met by the pitiful image of your youngest sobbing and clinging onto the draping silhouette of your dress skirt. You sweep him up into your arms and move to a bench placed in a, somewhat, secluded location so that you can have a modicum of privacy. “Oh, sweetheart…” you coo and gently brush back his hair with your fingers, “please tell me what’s the matter so that I can help you feel better…” he mutters something incoherent under his breath and in between his hiccups but you ask him to repeat it as you couldn’t hear the first time.  

“Y-you’re going to disown me and Sirius…“ he sobs before throwing himself at your lap and crying into your skirt, “Please don’t disown us, we’ll be good, I promise!” you couldn’t take hearing his tearful cries any longer and you scoop him up again so you could hug him tightly as he wraps his arms over your shoulders to sob into your neck, his legs wrapping around your waist. 

‘Openly crying in public?! HOW DISGRACEFUL! LOOK AT WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO MY SONS YOU WRETCHED THING!’ Walburga screeches in your head but you’re quick to hush her up, completely ignoring her piggish squealing to focus on comforting Regulus. ‘THEY COULD HAVE BEEN TRAINED AND DISCIPLINED INTO HONOURABLE SONS BEFORE YOUR INFLUENCE BUT NOW IT’S COMPLETELY HOPELESS!’ She can rant and squeal and screech as much as she wants, you’re not responding to a single thing. Regulus was much more important right now. 

You sit there with him, softly shushing his sobs and patting his back comfortingly as he cries and cries until his eyes run dry. In his panic and distress, Regulus wasn’t in the right headspace to listen to any consoling words you had to say so you waited. It wasn’t until the neckline of your black dress was made damp with Regulus’ tears that you finally whispered your consolation, he had managed to quiet down to small hiccups and shy sniffles. 

“There is no way on earth that I would ever ever disown you or Sirius, let alone both of you,” you press a kiss to Regulus’ temple, blinking back your tears at the intense display of sadness from your usually mild-mannered son. 

“B-but,” Regulus protests, pulling away to look at you with wide, swollen eyes, “you’ve created a separate vault for me and Sirius, that can only mean one thing…” he explains, making you realise your careless actions. 

“Oh darling, I’m not disowning you at all…” you wipe your thumbs beneath his eyes, offering a sad, apologetic smile for having conveyed such confusing intentions, “I only wanted to make sure you and your brother had something to put your belongings in and have a place for your savings that nobody else can touch,” he tilts his head curiously at you, “it’s to set you and your brother up well for the future. These vaults are for your and your brother’s possessions only, nobody else’s. For now, I’ll have your keys and help you save up some galleons until you’re old enough. I know that we’re a very rich family but there’s no harm in having your own vaults so that you and your brother can start adulthood on a good foundation,”

“…th-that’s all?”

“That’s all,” you nuzzle his nose with your own and kiss his forehead, making him giggle — such a beautiful sound. 

He throws his arms over your shoulders and gives you a tight squeeze, “Thank you, Mother,” you can hear the relief dripping from his voice and it makes your heart clench. 

“I’m sorry for the misunderstanding, darling,” 

“It’s okay…” he whispers shyly, not wanting to pull away so you could witness the flush of embarrassment dusting his cheeks. 

“Next time you’re worried about something, please talk to me, okay? I don’t want you to worry needlessly,”

Regulus nods and pulls away to grin brightly at you, “Okay!” you bought him a lot of sweets at the shops after that. 

11th September 1971 

You visited Belby’s Potions and Ingredients every day for the next week and it was always closed. After some time, you take the trips without Regulus, opting for going by yourself while he’s being tutored by Peony. Usually, you’d make your way home after realising there would be no signs of the couple appearing any time soon. There wasn’t a single light on behind the shop’s windows. Its interior was motionless, like a space suspended in time — nothing was out of place, it was merely still… and it stayed like that for an entire week.

An unhealthy amount of concern was beginning to build up in the pit of your stomach for the couple — perhaps Ruth’s illness the previous week was truly debilitating and when you remember your insensitivity, dominated by desperation, your chest constricts with shame atop the mounting anxiety. After your visit with Regulus, you had purchased a moon calendar and discovered that Remus would be experiencing his first transformation the following night and you suppose that realisation didn’t help your anxiety over the issue. He was going to be experiencing his first transformation so quickly, he barely would have settled into Hogwarts. For that sweet, kind and anxious boy, you were willing to do anything atop all the things you were already planning to do for Sirius and Regulus. 

Belby’s Potions and Ingredients was just ahead now, the muscle memory of the journey there easily guiding your feet and allowing your mind to wonder about the young lycanthrope attending Hogwarts with your firstborn. You were anticipating another uneventful but worrisome visit, however, the sight of an ‘open’ sign hanging on the door made your heart stop. For a moment, you paused, frozen in place and took the time to digest what you were seeing in front of you. You have to confirm that it wasn’t a dream or an illusion that your mind conjured up in its noxious mixture of fret and despair. 

No, this was real! 

Pushing open the door, you rush inside and immediately call out to the potioneer, “Mr Belby! Mr Belby!” you meet the bearded man at his designated station behind the front counter. Beneath his eyes are the faintest trace of dark circles but he manages to smile at your bright demeanour. 

“Good morning, Madam Black,” he greets, somewhat, cheerfully, “how may I help you today?”

With warmth in your eyes, you redirect his statement, “Actually, I was hoping to help you today…” as eager as you were to offer your aide and investment in the brilliant potioneer’s talents, his appearance was a sharp contrast to your first meeting that you were swamped with worry. Damocles gives an inquisitive look at your statement and prompts you for an explanation but it falls on deaf ears when you remember his words the previous week. “How is Ruth?” guilt tugs at your heartstrings and the emotion easily shows on your features, “Is she feeling better?”

Happy to divert from your earlier words in favour of his wife, Damocles smiles rather grimly and nods, “She has quite the weak constitution, especially after an episode,” he’s careful with his words and expertly continues despite his true emotions pleading to take control of his expressions. At times there’s an odd quirk in his smile or a misplaced dullness in his eyes — gone was the man you greeted at your first encounter. He looked poorly. Dishevelled and weighed down by something heavy. Someone so kind, loving and passionate about his work didn’t deserve such troubles. 

“And it’s lasted an entire week?” you’re saddened by his confirming nod and hum, “Is she here? At the shop?” you don’t wait until he confirms nor denies; you’re already stepping towards an isolated but well-loved corner of the quaint shop. 

“Madam Black…” a weak, melodious voice greets you. Approaching Ruth in her rocking chair, you offer a kind smile, happy to see her in, somewhat, good health. “I apologise that my illness has deprived the business of my husband,” she is humbly sheepish and her radiant countenance almost distracts you from her trembling hands. It isn’t a secret how devitalised she is but to still attempt her embroidery in her eroded state makes your chest tighten.

“I’m just happy you’re doing better,” you try to forget the careless words you had desperately shouted the week previous. It wasn’t your intention to be so insensitive and you wouldn’t dare wish any ill-will towards Ruth. The Belby couple are incredibly pleasant people and a treasure to have for company. You suppose that your eagerness to help Remus with his lycanthropy was too strong to resist – not only can you help Sirius and Regulus, but you can help many more of your beloved characters too. 

“Thank you, Madam Black,” Ruth has the loveliest smile, it breaks your heart to know that she’s suffering from such a debilitating, chronic illness. 

“I can’t imagine being as lovely as you despite needing a week to recover from an episode—” You pause and look upon Ruth with searching eyes. Aside from her face, she is covered head-to-toe in clothing. Leaning on the wall was a simple cane within her reach. And, if you weren’t mistaken, exactly a week before today, was a full moon…

“Ruth, my dear, your potion,” Damocles gently reminds, pulling out a phial of the iconic magenta healing potion. You recognise it immediately. It’s the same healing potion you’ve been forced to endure because of the degenerate bitch stuck in your head causing you to faint multiple times. 

“Darling, you’re a wonderful potioneer but I’d rather not consume another healing potion right now. I’ll be sick, otherwise,” Ruth politely declines. Her attentive husband directly goes to protest but you’re quick to interfere. 

“Mr Belby, when did you say Ruth had her episode?” 

“Last week,” he answers nonchalantly, still entirely focused on his wife, who continues to resist his resolute demands of needing to drink the potion. 

“That was a full moon…” the couple pause and a stillness consumes the space. It’s as if you’re suddenly in a vacuum, where time doesn’t exist and everything is at a standstill. “Is Ruth suffering from Lycanthropy?” you take care to keep any form of judgement out of your voice, your tone is neutral, your volume levelled and there isn’t a trace of disdain in your eyes. To avoid causing a huge stir, you try to keep neutral but a warm sadness and soft compassion manages to sneak onto your countenance. 

“Ruth’s illness is not your concern, Madam Black,” Damocles’ voice is strong, commanding and protective. His firm stance as he partially stands in the way of his wife demands that you pull back and stay at a distance. 

“Are you trying to find a cure?” you ask, completely impartial now and, almost, chillingly stoic. Damocles doesn’t answer. You glimpse their connected hands, their grip on each other is as strong as a tightly wound knot; it would be a struggle to pry them apart. “If you are, there isn’t a cure—” 

“I WON’T STAND FOR ANY VERBALLY DEMEANING REMARKS AGAINST MY WIFE! GET OUT! YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE!”

“I haven’t said anything of the sort to Ruth…” you smile kindly at the potioneer and reach out your hand, “I want to help you,”

“HYPOCRITE!” his loud volume makes you immediately retract your hand. From her seat, Ruth places a gentle hand on her husband’s forearm, a silent plea to give you a chance. Damocles doesn’t fully yield his anger but, in respect of his wife, lowers his voice slightly, "You just denied that a cure could be made!” he can’t trust you. You are a Black, the matriarch, in fact — your entire family despise dark creatures, even those that were afflicted without their consent, much like his dearest. He won’t let you lay a finger on his wife. 

“I said that only because that goal is too ambitious for the moment.” your comment makes Damocles pause, shocked but thoughtful, “I can’t encourage you to make a cure right away but I will support you in the endeavour to create a potion that will relieve the symptoms of Lycanthropy,”

“Support, how?” 

“Funding?” you suggest, “I can help you get expensive ingredients. Or maybe I can help you with research? Or I can keep Ruth company while you focus on your work entirely? I can do all of that and more if you will only let me,” 

The couple look at each other with curious eyes that also fill with fear and hope. 

“…what do you hope to gain from this?” Damocles needed to know. He just couldn’t fathom that someone of such high standing in the wizarding world, who was infamous for her intolerance of dark creatures, muggles, half-bloods and everything that didn’t reflect her skewedimage of ‘pure’ was in favour of helping him, the husband to a lycanthrope.

“I have no ulterior motives… I only wish to turn over a new leaf and help those that I can,” 

“I don’t believe you,” Damocles looks at you with suspicious eyes, narrowed and sharp. He is a contrasting image to the kind and warm man you first met at the counter on Sirius’ Hogwarts shopping day. 

“Then believe that I also have someone…” you look at Ruth, meeting her gentle eyes with a soft stare, “Believe that I have someone I deeply care about and wish to help with their Lycanthropy too,” you’re unable to break eye contact with Ruth; she can comprehend the deep sorrow in your eyes along with a determination that cannot be rivalled. It connects with her deep down, making her heart ache with feelings of desperation and painful hope.  

Damocles is torn. Ever since meeting his current wife, he has wanted nothing more than to use his expertise in potions to help her condition. It was an ambition he had been doing alone largely due to the prejudicial opinions surrounding Lycanthropy. It’s been years and his progress has barely been noticeable. All he’s been able to achieve are potions that barely have an effect. His recent potion was the most progress he’s ever made, where he was able to reduce her anxieties during the transformation. It was only thanks to the powdered moonstone he had managed to get a hold of. If he can have easy access to such valuable ingredients, his progression on the potion will be exponential. But he resists. He’s getting carried away by the excitement of possibilities, not only will he be helping his wife but he will have the opportunity to work with high-quality, precious ingredients again. He was a potioneer, not a businessman so his shop is barely keeping him and his wife afloat, their heads barely above the water of bills and necessities.

Ruth looks at her husband’s thoughtful countenance. She feels such guilt for burdening him with her condition but she doesn’t regret marrying him and promising to share the rest of her life with the kind man. Damocles makes the effort to always support her and assure her that he loves her regardless of her condition and affiliated insecurities. He loves her for her smile, her beautiful eyes, her delicious cooking, her kind heart, her precious love of books, her talent for embroidery, her loving words and the fact that he feels whole with her. The moment he said his vows and uttered the words ‘I do’, he had pledged to take care of her wholeheartedly and he intends to keep that promise, in the same fashion she does.    

“Sweetheart…” Ruth pleads with her eyes, staring up at her husband as tears well up in their eyes. They don’t know your full intentions but they’re willing to do whatever it takes. 

‘I want to take care of her,’

‘I want to be good to him’

“…alright, it’s a deal,”

You leave the store with the promise of visiting the Belby couple again soon, where you plan on catching up with Damocles’ progress and discuss future endeavours with the confidential project. The buzz and thrill pulse through your arterial system like an effusive river, unable to stop and eager to run its course all the way to its estuary but you don’t have one so the rush will have to calm on its own. 

This was a step forward in helping Remus and Ruth as well as many more werewolves across the country. The week you were shut out of the shop because of Damocles’ absence, you’ve been relentlessly planning your future tactics. It’s led to further elaborations on your other plans as well as the inclusion of other entirely new plots. You not only have the power and insight to help your darling sons but a myriad of other characters as well. There wasn’t going to be a chance of you doing one without the other now. Everything is interconnected in this universe; if you help Remus, you’ll also be helping Sirius and Regulus. Everything connects to your beautiful sons — you weren’t going to neglect a single path forward. It’s ambitious but when has a challenge ever stopped you from moving forward somehow? Never. 

Entering 12 Grimmauld Place, you were met with an eerie quietness. Searching for the time on the grandfather clock down the hall, you realise that Regulus would have finished his lesson a little while ago, nearing half an hour. The realisation jumpstarts your nerves and you’re rushing up the stairs to greet him at the Library; that’s where he usually goes to consolidate his lesson notes. You can vividly imagine him bent over a desk, carefully skimming over inky parchment as a plate of snacks and a cup of tea sit within arms reach of him, courtesy of Kreacher. When you peek into the Library, however, there isn’t a trace of Regulus anywhere. Where could he be? Regulus is fond of his routines and doesn’t normally stray from them, especially when it comes to his workflow study habits. 

Why do I have a bad feeling?... You think to yourself, placing a trembling hand over your thundering heart. The silence around you is deafening now and you have to hold back on rampaging through the house. Orion is home… In situations like this, you must stay calm. If Orion has done something to Regulus, it’ll be best if he doesn’t know you’ve come home yet. 

“Mistress! Mistress!” Kreacher appears out of thin air, tugging anxiously at his ears with eyes as wide as saucers. The panic in his watery gaze sets your own heart racing with apprehension. You already know what may be happening.

“Where is Regulus?”

“The vault, Mistress! The vault!”

You’ve never been in the very upper levels of the house before. It never felt worthy of exploration when you wanted to focus on your boys and the plans you’re slowly beginning to implement for them and the universe. 

The uppermost floor of the house was an attic space that had the far end shut off as a separate room. This area must be due to some space-warping magic because the roof was flat from the outside but the ceiling of this large room had the typical triangular roof shape. Boxes and other miscellaneous items litter about the, otherwise, sparse area, providing plenty of nooks and crannies for spiders and other creepy-crawlies to make a home in. Kreacher stays by the skirt of your dress, trembling from restlessness as you lean further into the room. He informed you that Regulus was forcibly dragged up here by Orion as soon as he saw off Peony at the fireplace. Orion had been peacefully reading The Daily Prophet in an armchair in the corner of the living room. Regulus was jumped by his own father. The old dirtbag must still be incensed by Sirius’ sorting ceremony and what had occurred at the Headmaster’s office. 

Narrowing your gaze, you focus on Orion, who leans against the locked door of the attic’s separate room. The iron wall that sectioned it off blended into the metal door that was firmly shut. From within that small, hollow, metal room came desperate banging, presumably from Regulus hitting the walls with his closed fists. The thought makes your hand clench around your wand tightly. This pathetic bastard has a death wish…

“If your brother had been sorted into Slytherin this wouldn’t be happening Regulus! How big of a disappointment the both of you are!”

“Father! I’m sorry!” Regulus’ pleading comes out muffled through the metal walls and door, you can barely hear him. It makes you want to hollow out your chest with the way your heart is relentlessly clenching down on itself.

“When you turn eleven and enter Hogwarts, you better be sorted into Slytherin OR ELSE YOU WILL BE IN FOR A WORLD OF PAIN! DO YOU HEAR ME?!”

“…n-no father…” 

“WHAT WAS THAT?!!! REGULUS?!!!” Orion’s angry shout was met with silence and he punches the mental door in anger, the force making the structure shake, “ANSWER ME, BOY!”

“Flippendo!”you utter angrily under your breath with your wand raised at Orion’s turned back. The spell sends him flying forward with a startled scream. His head hits the metal door and he’s immediately knocked unconscious. You don’t wait a second further to rush forward and unlock the metal door. It takes a great amount of effort to pull open with its heftiness but maternal instincts make it as simple as opening any normal door. 

“Mother!” Regulus cries at the sight of you from where he’s seated directly behind the door. The enclosed space was incredibly dark, there wasn’t a window anywhere. With the light filtering in past your silhouette, you looked like an angel sent to rescue him. 

“Let's get you out of this horrid room, darling,” it’s hard to relax or temper your anger when you’re looking upon your trembling son who should only ever be smiling. You don’t want him spending a second longer in this horrible attic so you quickly lift him into your arms and rush him down to his room as he cries freely from relief. 

You weren’t in a hurry to get Regulus settled beneath his blankets and tucked in; having him in your arms was a firm reassurance that he’s with you, safe and sound so you’re reluctant to let him go. Nevertheless, you get him settle him down and sit at his bedside before flicking your wand up. The gesture draws back the curtains to their furthest limits and opens up the windows to allow in some fresh air. 

“You’re okay, darling. Mother’s here now…” you whisper, gently petting his forehead and combing back his inky curls. Beneath the covers, Regulus can’t seem to stop himself from shaking but enjoys the sunlight pouring in through the windows and the cooling breeze that caresses his pale, tear-streaked cheeks. He hasn’t said a single word and neither have you. His gaze remains transfixed on the open window where the blue skies are decorated with floating clouds. You watch as his anxious expression gradually loosens, unfurling into one without emotion. “My love?…” the tension in Regulus’ small shoulders and tight limbs melts away when your voice finally breaks through the ringing in his ears. “I’m so sorry…I didn’t mean to leave you home alone…”

His eyes flicker up to hold your gaze. He watches as tears gather at your waterline before spilling over in a cascade of glittering diamonds, created under the mounted pressure that was your love and panic for him and his wellbeing.

“Mother is so incredibly sorry,” you cradle his small hand in your own before pressing his palm against your tearful cheek. “Please forgive me, I promise I won’t let this happen ever again,”

You had nothing to be sorry for. It wasn’t your fault. Regulus was frightened and shaken up by his father’s aggressive and malicious expression of contempt, you had done nothing. Regulus would willingly go through that all over again if it meant his father didn’t get to touch Sirius. For the longest time, Sirius had been his only protector and now he has you too. He can bear anything if it means keeping his older brother safe the same way he kept Regulus safe before you came to protect both of them. For the longest time, it felt as if they were the only two people who truly understood each other — it still largely feels that way — and that they were the only ones who knew how to protect each other properly. But that wasn’t the case anymore because they have you now. Beautiful, amazing, motherly you. 

Oftentimes, Regulus would remember the day you had such a drastic personality change. It started normal despite the odd behaviour you had been partaking in leading up to that moment, spending more time in the private quarters meant only for the ladies of the Black family. It had been happening for weeks and the behaviour was odd but since it’s led to such a change of heart in you, the two brothers didn’t question it. 

Here you are now, apologising for his father’s abuse and tearfully pleading for his forgiveness. Regulus never would have imagined witnessing the beautiful image of his mother expressing such sincere sorrow and guilt over his ailing form. The youngest Black thinks he could be dreaming, still back in that claustrophobic attic vault and conjuring up a hallucination to save himself from the mental turmoil the small space puts him through. Sirius had nothing to worry about when he left for Hogwarts because, no matter what, you’ll be there for him and Regulus, even if it means going against Orion. 

“It’s okay, Mother,” Regulus softly smiles up at you, his brows furrowing slightly when his words make your tears pour out in more globulous amounts. 

“This won’t happen again, I swear it,” you press a kiss against his small palm. 

“I know,” the trust and belief Regulus has in you shines through in the glimmer of his eyes, catching the sunlight pouring in from his windows. With your heart stuttering in your chest, you pause before opening your arms and leaning forward to embrace his form through the blankets. “NO!”with a loud shout, Regulus pushes you away and presses his eyes tightly closed.

When Regulus opens his eyes again, you’re frozen in place with wide, shocked eyes. You don’t know what to do. In your chest, your heart breaks at the notion that Regulus doesn’t want to be touched by you but there’s a side of you that reassures his reaction is natural considering what he had just gone through. The conflicting emotions freeze up your limbs and leave you motionless, vulnerable to be swayed onto either side.

Realisation dawns on the youngest Black brother and a frightened gasp escapes him before he’s apologising profusely. Tears reappear at his waterline and threaten to spill over at the thought of pushing you away when all you wanted to do was comfort him. He needs to explain! He has to explain! 

Please don’t hate me! Please don’t hate me! Pleasedon’thateme!

“I’m sorry, Mother!” Regulus reaches for your hand and squeezes it in between his own, “I-I don’t feel comfortable in tight spaces, I don’t want to be h-hugged right now,” you have reminded him and Sirius multiple times that they have the right to communicate their emotions, wants and needs. The important thing you always emphasised was that you would never be angry at them for doing that – Regulus is holding you to your word but waits with bated breath for your response.  

His words were all the confirmation you needed to relax. Of course, that was what he was worried about most. How stupid and selfish of you to make this situation about yourself when Regulus had gone through something so traumatising. 

“Don’t worry, my love, I should have been more considerate of you,” you carefully shush him and wipe away his silent tears, resisting the urge to lean in and take up more of his personal space, “please don’t cry, you have nothing to be sorry for…if you don’t feel comfortable with anything please tell me right away. I promise I won’t get angry or take offence,” you look into his eyes earnestly, reiterating the words you always reminded him and his brother of. It makes Regulus smile softly; you kept your word, “I only want you to be comfortable and happy, always, okay?”

Regulus calms down and nods affirmatively, his smile growing. You agree to hold his hand in silence while he falls asleep and relish being allowed to stay close despite what happened to him earlier. His hand is small but his grip is strong, he doesn’t seem to want to let go of your hand, even in his sleep. You will protect him forever and always. 

While Regulus rests peacefully in his room, you carefully slip away from his hold to make dinner. His favourite. So is dessert. He’ll be eating all of his favourites for the next week and he’s getting spoiled rotten. As usual, Kreacher accompanies you and ambles about the kitchen under your precise instructions, however, you have a special task for him tonight. 

“Is Orion still unconscious in the attic, Kreacher?” you ask monotonously. 

“Y-yes mistress,“

“Good,” you chirp cheerfully, “Please move him to the bottom of the third staircase,” Kreacher gives you a curious look but doesn’t question your intentions. 

“And then, mistress?”

“Leave him there,” in a blink, Kreacher had disappeared to do your bidding. The house elf doesn’t know what you have planned for the patriarch but knows it would be to avenge the young master. That was enough for Kreacher. 

When Kreacher rejoins you in the kitchen to finish preparing Regulus’ dinner, you proceed to tell him that he move Orion to bed as soon as he wakes up. But only when he wakes up. 

“Whatever the mistress says,” Kreacher nods. 

When you bring up the trays for Regulus, he’s still peacefully asleep in bed so you place his food at his bedside and ask Kreacher to keep the meal warm by putting a spell on the plates like he often does with yours and the boys’ tea. It’s then that the wrinkly elf perks up and alerts you that Orion has awoken. Nodding briefly at him, he disappears with a snap of his fingers and you immediately know he’s gone to do as you’ve asked earlier on. While he does that, you fetch Orion’s dinner as well, which is simple tomato soup with garlic bread — it’s more than he deserves. 

As soon as you enter the room with the food tray, you hear Orion muttering to himself bitterly as he sits up in bed, “Useless house elf, leaving me at the bottom of the stairs,”

“I told Kreacher to leave you there,” you explain gently as you approach his bedside. 

“WHAT?!”

“Calm down, Orion, you’ll only hurt yourself more if you act so excited after just waking up,” as if on cue, Orion groans and falls back with a hand pressed against his temple, “See? Here, I’ve made dinner to help you feel better, eat it at your own pace,” it hurts you to smile at him after what he’s done to your sweet, precious Regulus but you have to be patient. You’ll bring the axe down on his neck soon. You can’t believe you were willing to settle for divorce alone but that’s not enough for someone like him. Now, you have something much more fitting in mind.

“Why did you tell Kreacher to leave me there?” Orion doesn’t take the food right away, only giving it a brief side-ways glance before trying to figure out what happened. 

“It was for your safety. It looked like you hit your head and that’s a very sensitive place, I was worried that if he moved you, he’d end up carelessly hurting you even more and we don’t want that…”

With a huff, he deems your explanation decent enough and finally sits up again, reaching for his food. You smile even more, eagerly anticipating his replenishment on your home-cooked meal when he stops to ask something, “Did you have something to do with this?…” He gestures to his temple subtly, referring to his injury. 

“Of course, I did,” you answer simply, ignoring the blend of shock and fury that consumes his expression, “I made sure your meal was very nutritious so you can heal properly,”

“That’s not what I—… never mind,” Orion sighs in defeat and slowly begins to eat in bed. He gives an occasional groan of protest, reaching up and making it obvious how uncomfortable his temple is, silently asking for additional attention and care. He’s not getting any of that from you. Rather, you quite enjoy his uncomfortable musings. You won’t take initiative, instead, you’ll wait until he explicitly asks for a healing potion before finally giving him one. You’ll ensure that Kreacher is informed of this too. He’s a mere house elf, after all, your stupid husband can’t expect Kreacher to make any helpful suggestions. 

“Make sure to eat everything, it’s to help with your health, okay?” you leave him to finish off his meal alone, smiling all the way to Regulus’ room. 

‘YOU PUT SOMETHING IN MY HUSBAND’S FOOD! I SAW IT!’ Walburga screeches in your head. For once, it comes out as music to your ears. The laxatives were from a muggle store so she has no clue what you’ve done.

‘Now, now Walburga,’ you inwardly voice in a patient and gentle tone, ‘Orion was very naughty doing that to Regulus while I was away. So kindly SHUT THE FUCK UP AND ENJOY THE SHOW YOU FOUL, EMACIATED, UGLY BITCH!’ that shuts her up nicely just as you’re about to enter Regulus’ bedroom again, smirking to yourself at Orion’s imminent doom.  

‘Enjoy the explosive diarrhoea you disgusting prick,' 

You also manage to bring up a second helping of food so you can eat together with Regulus when he finally wakes and has the appetite for dinner. In the meantime, you brought your notebook of plans to continue your scheming at Regulus’ desk. You had spent some time admiring his layout and the way he organises his stationery. He has quite a mature system in place for someone so young but it was something you admired — you can tell how incredibly bright his future is going to be just from seeing how he sets up his workplace. Truthfully, the set-up helped motivate you more, you want to preserve your youngest son’s hopes, dreams, happiness and everything about him so that he can live a fulfilled life — not even his desk will be touched by those with malicious intent or anyone that wanted to drag him down. 

Your specific plans for tonight focus solely on the wolfsbane potion and trying to remember everything about it in your universe. From the corner of your eye, you have the perfect image of Regulus peacefully sleeping in bed, tucked up and cosy. There isn’t a single sign of terror to agitate his precious features, rather, he looks completely at peace. This is how he should always look. The image encourages you to push forward, trying to remember any bit of helpful information from your previous life as a Harry Potter fan. Even if the clue may seem unhelpful or completely made up, you write it down regardless. 

‘All this and for what?!’ the nagging voice in the back of your head makes another appearance but you simply roll your eyes. If you give her more attention than she deserves, you’ll only spur her on more, ‘not only is my son part of that foolish house but you’re making such efforts for disgusting half-breeds! Ridiculous! Have you no shame?!’she screeches unpleasantly to the point of making your inner ears ache. However, it was at that moment that a thought occurred to you. It’s strange…very strange. Orion made his displeasure of Sirius’ sorting known the instant he heard the news but Walburga only voices her dissatisfaction now. 

‘When I think about it… you didn’t freak out half as much as Orion when letters gossiping of Sirius’ sorting came. I was fully predicting a meltdown that would put me in a coma for a day or two,’ you internally voice, passing it off as an innocuous comment in the hopes that it leaves her naive to your true intentions. 

‘Your sickening plans for that pin were too much of a distraction!’Walburga excuses as you keep quiet. If you interrupt her ramblings, you won’t be able to pick up on the reasoning behind her actions. It’s best to let her get ahead of herself, the fool, ‘Typical for a soft-hearted, feeble muggle like you! Celebrating such a dishonourable sorting ceremony result! It’s simply humiliating! Rather than that revolting pin, I sent that no good son of mine a howler the day after his sorting. Useless child! He’s no Black, he’s a no-good, mud-blood-loving, blood-traitor who likes to engage with half-breeds and is an utter disgrace to his family! Associating himself with that ‘light’ Potter family, engaging with filthy mudbloods and blood traitors — dirty! The lot of them! Regulus is my only good child, if only he hadn’t gotten himself killed trying to leave the organisation, he would have been my perfect son!’

‘H— How do you know that?…and how do you know about his ‘half-breed’ friend you vile piece of shit?’ as always, her disgusting attitude makes your blood boil on Remus’ and Ruth’s behalf. How dare she act so high and mighty when she’s the most unpleasant person to ever exist? She doesn’t answer your question, instead, she becomes eerily quiet once more. Scoffing at her cowardly departure from the conversation, you make an urgent annotation in your notebook. Hopefully, this will lead to some answers. 

‘Investigate the first room you woke up in’

SERIES M.LIST | NEXT. 07 : ... →

A/N : This was longer than I intended but a lot has happened so I hope you enjoy the read regardless. I'm sorry for what happened to our baby but we'll be there for him as you were able to see. No way are we letting that slide nor are we going to let that happen any longer. 

Thank you again to all the darlings who always show their love and support of this series, even though I adore writing it and planning future chapters, it's also really time-consuming and exhausting to keep up at points so it really means a lot when I see that you darlings enjoy the read and look forward to series updates. 

please like, comment and reblog to show your support, i'd really appreciate it! property of kquil ; all written content is mine and no one else's unless stated otherwise ; do not steal, plagiarise, modify or translate to other sites

[thekqipond]

JAMES POTTER | GENUINE

SUM. : your boyfriend finally takes a role who has a romantic interest but his expression is hardly convincing; only you can get a genuine reaction from him

LENGTH : 1.8k

TAGS : actor james potter au ; modern au ; muggle au ; singer reader au ; actor/director sirius black au ; actress marlene mckinnon au ; fluff ; celebrity couple goals ; james can't do romantic roles ; he's too loyal!

“CUT!” Sirius shouts and James drops his shoulders in disappointment, his expression of ‘hopeless love’ also slipping off his face. This is why he wasn’t suited for romantic roles. As Sirius shouts for everyone to take a short five-minute break, James catches Marlene sending him a sympathetic look before moving to her chair with the help of her make-up team, who lifted the heavy skirt of her wedding dress for easier movement. “Come on James, what’s gotten into you?” Sirius asks, making his way over as Remus touches up James’ hair and suit. 

“I’m trying Sirius,” the actor sighs, “I think I just need a break to collect myself and then I can finally get that winning take for you,” 

“You better,” Sirius playful threatens, “I know you’re a lovesick fool so I know the type of infatuated expressions you can pull. Just try to emulate that and you’re golden, okay?”

‘It’s not that easy if it isn’t her…’ James was tempted to protest but settled with a simple, “Okay…” satisfied, Sirius walks away with Remus to discuss some things with the camera crew while James leans against the set’s alter. 

As an actor, James should find it easy to perform his characters’ expressions and emotions, his stardom and recurring roles in thriller, action and adventure films were a sentiment to that. However, his current role requires romantic displays, something he had actively avoided in his acting career. 

Characters that had passionate, romantic and intimate scenes were roles James tended to avoid primarily due to his endless loyalty to you, his childhood sweetheart. As young teens, you and James fell in love long before your successes. Since then, you have only grown a deeper love for each other, fostered by the hardships that came with your dreams of becoming a singer and his of becoming an actor with Sirius. 

His best friend eventually divulged into directing his own films whilst James continued expanding his role as an actor — as much as he’s able to with the number of scripts he’s dropped for their romantic interests and amorous scenes. It didn’t sit right with him having to kiss another girl let alone look lovingly at someone that wasn’t you. He felt like a cheat. Many, including Sirius, however, have told him that it was part of his job but James was insistent on making no exceptions. He respected you and the love you shared too much. The same way you would play your own love interest in music videos while wearing a short wig and masculine attire. It was a show of mutual respect you both had for the other before and after your relationship became public. 

The only reason James had taken on this role was due to Sirius’ insistence as the director, the lack of intimate scenes as well as the dominating adventure, and fantasy genre. It would all be underpinned by small heartfelt moments with his character’s love interest played by his close friend Marlene McKinnon. The two characters’ love story will end in tragedy, haunted by the trope of ‘right person, wrong time’. James believed he could convincingly play his loving expressions only brought on by you in the rare, romantic moments his character shares with Marlene’s but it’s proving harder than he originally thought. Simply thinking about you wasn’t enough…

Mulling over his character’s story, James imagines you in Marlene’s place. He only had three minutes remaining to focus on how he should convey his character’s ‘hopeless love’ convincingly. 

To concentrate, he closes his eyes and thinks deeply, ignoring the sudden scuffle and whispers around him. On an adventure to rescue his unrequited love’s significant other, James selflessly volunteers to aid in her quest, protecting her and cherishing her throughout the arduous journey, putting his life at risk for a girl who would never love him back. Unselfishly, he continues forward without drawing any attention to the deep love he holds for her, the audience kept in suspense of his mysterious ambitions— that is, until the dream sequence. In his sleep, influenced by the surrounding, foreign plants’ effects, James dreams of his ideal future, one where he gets to marry his love, who will reciprocate his feelings wholeheartedly. It’s the moment all audience members realise James’ true motivations, encouraging a swell of heartache amongst them when they are forced to accept the reality his own character is made to face: that he cannot be with his love no matter despite his efforts. Her heart belongs to another and if he were to fall for the plant’s trap, he will never wake up from his heavenly dream-come-true and become living fertilsier to continue the plant’s life. The heartache of that realisation is further emphasised when James doesn’t stop loving her in his own, silent and benevolent way. 

This is going to be a big moment for James’ character; he needs to put his all into this!

Before he has the chance to open his eyes, however, James is already being led to his spot on the set by Remus. The brunette informs him that the short break is over and instructs him to start before his turn to face Marlene. 

“Again, the shot’s focus will be on your face, James, Make it a good one,” Sirius instructs from his director’s chair and, with a small pause cues for the start of the hundredth take.

Opening his eyes gradually, as if waking up from a dream, James takes a moment to analyse his surroundings. He meets the eyes of his groomsmen, shooting them a confused look before slowly turning and raising his gaze. He’s become familiar with Marlene in her wedding dress now so her off-centred placement doesn’t deter him. He also fully trusts in the team, if they saw it fit to make any changes, he’ll help follow through. Marlene is only slightly off centre, he realises, to accommodate the camera’s view of his expression more clearly. James fully expects to only see Marlene, however, when he finally raises his gaze, in the distance, he sees you by the camera. 

And James immediately smiles. 

He completely forgets where he is, rather, he savours the warmth that fills his chest at the sight of you, the burst of elation in his brain when he sees you smiling at him, dressed in his oversized sweater and your casual jeans. You’re not in a wedding dress nor dolled up the same way Marlene is for the take but you’re just as gorgeous. There’s a tingling itch in his fingertips to reach out for you and he almost does but stops when he remembers where he is and what’s happening around him. His look of sweeping joy and deep affection falters ever so slightly but is completely captured by the camera’s close-up shot. James’ internal berating of another failed performance barely begins when Sirius is suddenly cheering in delight. 

“CUT! AND PRINT!” Sirius claps and laughs at the success but James is left blinking in confusion. Did he hallucinate you? He looks in your direction again. No, you weren’t a figment of his imagination, you’re really here! “Finally! That was what I was looking for! Great idea on putting her beside the camera, Moony,” 

Remus nods his head in graceful humility as you giggle from where you stand. You had planned a surprise visit for James and called Remus beforehand for access to the set. It was the perfect surprise considering you had barely seen each other the last few weeks; he was busy filming with Sirius and Marlene while you were recording songs for your new, up-and-coming album. That only seemed to add to James’ favourable reaction, however. 

“BREAK!” Sirius announces with a wink directed at you, “Let's give the two love birds a moment, as thanks for finally getting the job done. Let’s give it ten!” it seemed as though succeeding after multiple failures had made Sirius a little too happy and laidback but who was James to complain? As Marlene knowingly smirks at him, he runs past and launches himself at you. With a squeal, you return his embrace and giggle into his shoulder. 

“I missed you…” he whispers into your crown.

“Surprise!” you announce despite the lateness and giggle again. Music to his ears. 

“Thanks for helping me with my scene, love,” he pulls away with deep affection swimming in his hazel eyes and he cups your jaw while resisting the urge lean in and kiss you endlessly. He loves the sound of your voice just as much as the feel of your lips against his own so, for now, he’ll willing listen. He can taste your sweet lips later.  

“I didn’t really know what was happening but I’m happy to help,” 

“You’re so cute,” he sighs and finally pulls you into passion-filled kiss before you can utter another word. "I can't believe you're my lady,"

"Your lady?"

"Yes," James giggles and kisses your cheek again and again and again, "my lady, the same way, I'm your man,"

"Mmm, sounds good," you utter against his lips, "I'll have to feature you in my new music video then~"

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

“...tell me about that scene. It was such a big moment for the audience and your character. How did you manage to look so in love but then so heartbroken?” the interviewer asks, smiling but tilting his head in curiosity when Marlene burst out laughing. 

“Oh, this is such a good story!” James looks away, unable to meet his co-star and friend’s mischievous smirk and glimmering eyes, “Can I tell him?” she doesn’t even give him the chance to answer before ingeminating the tale, “James couldn’t get that moment right for multiple takes. We were all getting tired of him, really. But since Sirius knew he was capable of being a love-drunk fool, he persisted for over an hour! And this is just for a one minute section of the film!” James finally chuckles despite his flustered expression when Marlene makes a side comment about how the wedding dress was a chore to wear for such an extended period of time and didn’t appreciate James’ slow uptake, “there wasn’t even an after-party for me to let loose in, my supposed ‘groom’ had his brain elsewhere,” the two share a laugh and James picks up on the story. 

“Elsewhere, meaning my girlfriend. She actually planned a surprise visit during filming and was brought in by Remus. He put her right by the camera and the reaction you saw on film was my reaction to seeing her instead of Marlene.” his co-star coos at how adorable he is whenever he’s around you and gossips with the interviewer about how cute of a couple the two of you make behind the scenes. 

“Is that why you’ve become her love interest in the music videos for her new album?” the interviewer asks impromptu. He’s on the edge of his seat and is a clear fan of your music, which makes James happier than if the man was to say he was a fan of him.   “Naturally,” James smiles to himself, “she did say I was the inspiration for her love ballads,”

NAVI.

A/N : this was inspired by this tiktok and a daydream i had! the anime is called 'Frieren: Beyond Journey's End', I've never watched it but it was on my fyp, i did some exploring and, now, here i am (๑˃́ꇴ˂̀๑) i hope you darlings enjoyed the read!

[thekqipond]

PERFECT MATCH PART 2

PAIR. : poly!marauders x female slytherin reader

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

LENGTH : 1.2k

PART 1 | NAVI.

NOT PROOFREAD OR EDITED

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

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

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

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

So that’s what’s happening~ 

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

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

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

“The marauders,”

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

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

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

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

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

“What marauder?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

NAVI.

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

[thekqipond]

DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER 6 [PREVIEW]

06 : THE POTIONEER

← CHPT.5 : SIRIUS : FIRST DAY | NAVI. | SERIES M.LIST

“I told you so,” you voice blankly and with an unamused face to match. Orion didn’t say a word — he couldn’t. He was already facing the consequences of his impatience as his stomach tried to eat itself from hunger. Dumbledore raises a questioning brow at the interaction but doesn’t say anything. Instead, the headmaster turns to Regulus with a kind smile and offers him the latest muggle sweet he’s grown a recent taste for, the password to his office, Pear Drops. 

“Try some, my boy, I promise they’re a delight,” Regulus looks to you, silently asking for permission. 

You smile softly and nod, “Go right ahead dear but you’ve had a rather hearty breakfast, why don’t you save it for a special treat later on?” Regulus nods and reaches for a small handful of the sweets to pocket in the meantime, however, his small, pale hand is smacked away by Orion who hisses angrily through clenched teeth. 

“No son of mine dabbles in any muggle sweets — it’s unbecoming, Regulus!” 

It was thankful that Orion was already clenching his teeth when you slapped him across the face or else he would have bitten straight through his tongue at the force of your firm hand. 

“Touch my son again, and you’ll be falling from the tower without your wand, Orion,” you threaten through clenched teeth of your own as the man stares at you in wide-eyed shock, his expression reflected onto the Headmaster. 

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Sirius pays his father no mind as the pathetic man slams his hardened fist against Dumbledore’s wooden desk, “I DEMAND THAT THE SORTING BE REDONE! THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE!” the frightening volume of your reprehensible husband’s words makes Regulus’ shoulders shake but you and Sirius were there for him. Flanked on either side of the youngest, you were able to bring Regulus into your side for a comforting sideways embrace while Sirius reached over to console his brother by threading their fingers together and clasping his hand tightly. Regulus immediately begins to calm down and smiles to himself at the warm feeling of protection surrounding him. 

“…It cannot be done, Mr Black,” Dumbledore states matter-of-factly in a serene voice that bodes no fear for the wrath of your husband. 

“EXCUSE ME?! CLEARLY THIS WAS A MISTAKE—”

“The sorting hat makes no mistakes,” Dumbledore was so firm in his statement, that Orion was left stammering with disbelief. It makes you smirk with a sort of evil satisfaction. What will he say next? 

“That’s impossible! For that tattered old thing to have made no mistakes whatsoever?!” Orion finally has the decency to lower his voice though, not by much. 

“You are free to doubt the sorting hat as you wish Mr Black but it is indisputable and Sirius will not be resorted,”

“Of course not!” you pipe up, pinning your husband with a harsh glare, “For the sake of your own ego and pride, Orion, how could you demand such a thing? This whole fiasco is far more embarrassing than our son being sorted into the house of bravery and courage. Get over yourself. Our son will miss his lesson at this rate. I apologise, headmaster, for my husband’s shameful behaviour, I assure you that my son will behave far more gracefully,” turning away from your staggering husband and the amused headmaster, you look at Sirius with pride. Leaning over Regulus to press a kiss onto his older brother’s forehead he’s able to hear your tender whisper of pride, “I’m so proud of you, darling,”

4th September 1971

You can’t get over how adorable the marauders look as first years. They might as well be little babies, their cheeks still possess some youthful plumpness and they look ready to grow into their school robes with much more fullness. However, as adorable as you found them to be, you have much more important and urgent matters that need tending to. You can’t believe how you’d forgotten such an important detail until now but seeing Remus was what you needed for the pieces to finally fit together. 

Damocles Belby. Inventor of the Wolfsbane potion in the 1990s. You aren’t sure about the exact year but it definitely wasn’t invented while Remus was in Hogwarts. That was why you were drawn to his quaint potions shop that day and why his name has been lingering in the back of your mind since that day.

Entering 12 Grimmauld Place, you were met with an eerie quietness. Searching for the time on the grandfather clock down the hall, you realise that Regulus would have finished his lesson a little while ago, nearing half an hour. The realisation jumpstarts your nerves and you’re rushing up the stairs to greet him at the Library; that’s where he usually goes to consolidate his lesson notes. You can vividly imagine him bent over a desk, carefully skimming over inky parchment as a plate of snacks and a cup of tea sit within arms reach of him, courtesy of Kreacher. When you peek into the Library, however, there isn’t a trace of Regulus anywhere. Where could he be? Regulus is fond of his routines and doesn’t normally stray from them, especially when it comes to his workflow study habits. 

Why do I have a bad feeling?... You think to yourself, placing a trembling hand over your thundering heart. The silence around you is deafening now and you have to hold back on rampaging through the house. Orion is home… In situations like this, you must stay calm. If Orion has done something to Regulus, it’ll be best if he doesn’t know you’ve come home yet. 

“Mistress! Mistress!” Kreacher appears out of thin air, tugging anxiously at his ears with eyes as wide as saucers. The panic in his watery gaze sets your own heart racing with apprehension. You already know what may be happening.

“Where is Regulus?”

“The vault, Mistress! The vault!”

A/N : because of a lovely suggestion from an equally lovely anon, i've been convinced to provide a preview of the next DOB chapter! it's up to 13k words long so i don't think I'm revealing too much with this preview (⁎⁍̴̛ ₃ ⁍̴̛⁎) i hope this helps you get excited about what will soon be coming -- there are also some events i'm keeping secret just so it feels more satisfying when you finally read the full update!

[thekqipond]

Hi lovely hole your well!

Can we get a hufflepuff reader x sirius

Your partnered with him for charms class that's all I've got

LENGTH : 1.4k

TAGS. : sirius being a simp ; cutie pie reader ; oblivious reader ; ravenclaw reader (im sorry for the switch!) ; fluff ; jealous sirius

A/N : hello darling! i'm finally doing well enough and not overthinking enough to tackle my requests, I'm sorry it had to take this long omg! your request is the perfect prompt to a continuation of one of my timestamps though, i hope you don't mind that i had to switch reader to a ravenclaw and enjoy the read regardless <3

PART 1 | NAVI.

Both you and Sirius made for an odd pair; people wouldn’t typically couple you together. An extrovert Gryffindor and a cold Ravenclaw. However, as of recently, many have seen you with Sirius quite often, most notably in classes and especially in partner projects. And it was all Sirius’ doing. 

Your classmates typically hesitated to partner with you, let alone sit by you for classes. They found you boring and rather unnerving to be around. You didn’t appear to enjoy being around people and took work far too seriously, so you’ve grown a bad reputation. It didn’t bother you, though; you understood that you weren’t like other people; your bashfulness manifested into a stone-cold exterior and added to the seriousness underpinning your endeavour for top academic performance. People tend to avoid you but it’s for the best, you like to tell yourself. 

After the transfiguration project with Sirius, however, whereby he was forced to partner with you, he’s kept volunteering to partner with you over and over again. Whether it be partner or group projects, he’s the first in line to be your assigned partner. He finds that the best way of doing this is sitting next to you in Ravenclaw and Gryffindor shared lessons, regardless of whether or not it leaves James, Remus or Peter without a partner. It wasn’t typical of him or anyone to be so eager around you but nobody commented on it. As it happens, many eagerly sat back to watch what would unfold.   

In the extra time Sirius has willingly spent with you in lessons, he’s confessed to the reasoning behind his odd behaviour. “I want to know more about you,” 

That was the first time he or anyone else had seen you so flustered and adorably shy. People couldn’t believe their eyes. However, owing to Sirius’ playboy reputation, it was no surprise that he was the one to draw such a reaction out of you. This was also the first time Sirius had seen a favourable increase in his class grades. Your work ethic and drive for high grades have positively influenced his performance in classes. When Remus pointed this out to him, supportive of his new friendship with you, Sirius was surprised but didn’t linger on the fact too long. He didn’t really care; he was too busy figuring out how to make you smile again and engraving the beautiful image into his brain. 

“He’s just as bad as you are James,” Peter commented, noticing the familiar lovesick look on Sirius as he’s seen with one, James Potter. You and the eldest Black brother were sitting at a distant table in the library, thoroughly going over the material before committing to your project for Herbology. 

“What was that?” James comes out of his daze staring at a certain redhead. Peter and Remus share an amused look before shrugging off James’ question. Naturally, James returned to admiring an oblivious Lily Evans as Remus resumed his reading and Peter doodled on the edges of his semi-finished divination essay. 

“At least Sirius is finally focusing on one girl,” Remus comments under his breath. 

“Yeah, it was tiring,” Peter sighs in agreement and leans back with a relieved look on his face. 

“Oh! How interesting,” you comment, leaning into Sirius’ side so as to look over his book, “I didn’t know that…” As you take a moment to read over the passage, Sirius carefully observes the way your pretty features go from enraptured to delighted. Your smile is so pretty… “We have to include that in our joint essay; I’ll note it down, quickly. Good job, Sirius,” your smile is even prettier when it’s turned to him and you praise him openly like that. 

“Do I get a reward?” he asks before he can stop to think about what it is that he’s said. 

“A reward?” you tilt your head in the most adorable fashion, “Our reward will be getting the highest mark in the class,” typically, girls would jump at the opportunity to flirt back and sneak in a kiss or two but your impervious, genuine nature gives Sirius pause. Though, he’s soon throwing his head back and laughing boisterously. The panic on your face, however, reminds him of the library setting and immediately stifles his amusement.  

“You’re odd…” you comment on his strange behaviour and return to your work. But Sirius is unphased and holds his chin up with his palm to shamelessly stare at your side profile. He’s tempted to reach up and tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “Get back to work, Sirius.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You won’t admit it out loud but you quite enjoy Sirius’ company. It isn’t so lonely having him around and he helps you get good grades. He’s also very funny and nice to look at. Though, you suppose that was the main downside. He can prove to be quite the distraction if he wants to be. Nevertheless, you’re happy he has the confidence to sit next to you and willingly volunteer to be your partner for all collaboration projects. Everyone in Hogwarts has admitted to having a favourite marauder and you’re not afraid to admit that he’s your favourite; he’s the easiest to smile around. 

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Sirius was a lover of pushing boundaries. Seeing how far he can push before high-tailing it when the first signs of danger appear was his favourite activity. That was why he was a marauder, that’s why he loved pranks, that’s why he’s been able to see you get flustered over and over again. 

Over every good thing he’s done to contribute to your projects together, no matter how small, he pleads for a reward. After some months, he’s been able to escalate the ‘reward’ from praise to a congratulatory head pat (his animagus influence), to a hug, to cuddling for extended periods to sitting on his lap and kissing him on the cheek. You become lovably ruffled every time and Sirius savours each reaction as if he’s seeing it for the first time. He always stares at you and smiles brightly when you look away. 

He wants to see more of your reactions. He wants to see you do it every day. And he likes knowing that it’s because of him. 

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

In the year that passes, Sirius hasn’t failed to be your partner for every project you have in shared classes with Gryffindor. It was only natural that he be your partner for the final term project in D.A.D.A too. As soon as the partner project is announced, you immediately look up and meet eyes with the dark-haired Gryffindor, who had been pressured into sitting with his iconic group of friends. The two of you share a knowing smile. Everyone knows that you’re each other’s partner, nobody would dare interfere with that. 

When the teacher finally allows the class to partner up, however, you’re confronted by a boy you do not know. He looks at you expectantly and asks if you would consider being his partner for the project. You didn’t know what to say. It was utterly lost on you that the more Sirius pulled you from your cold timidity, the more you’ve willingly smiled and showed your sincerity. In turn, the more observant your other classmates have become. 

It became clear to them that you weren’t as cold as you first appear but, because of their ignorance, they overlooked that simply by the unfriendly look you routinely wore. This discovery has led to many of your male classmates growing a new appreciation for you and your unrecognised beauty; they didn’t know someone so cold could be so warm and look so beautiful. It irritated Sirius but he had been able to tolerate it. 

Up until this moment, that is…

“So… will you?” the boy prompts one more time. You don’t know what to say, your innate timidity taking away your voice and rendering your response to a mere shake of your head. ‘No’, the answer was clear. You immediately turn away from the boy and hurry to Sirius, who had observed the boy's audacity with clenched fists and a tight jaw. 

As soon as you are close enough, Sirius pulls you into his arms and tucks your face into the crook of his neck, “you’re mine,” he whispers.

“Wh-what?” You couldn’t believe your ears. 

“I mean– you’re my partner, no one else’s,” smiling up at him, you nod affirmatively and he smiles, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His gentle touch lingers and travels down to trace the line of your jaw. 

“...Do I get a reward for not punching that tosser in the nose?”

“Not punching what?” he laughs at your wide-eyed stare of disbelief.

“For being a Ravenclaw, you’re not very smart,” 

NAVI.

A/N : again, i'm so sorry for the switch but i hope you still enjoyed reading this x

TAGLIST : @marauderssmut @ohmylordydordy @n1ght-vngel @ddeathday (the darlings that wanted a part 2 and had to wait the longest time -- it's a short list so it's an exception to my no taglists rule)

[thekqipond]

Request: Remus Lupin x ravenclaw!girlfriend!reader

Plot: Just them appropriately loving on each other, chaste kisses on shoulders and wrists while sitting in positions that may not look innocent, but it doesn’t go farther them that?

I don’t usually ask for bland ones, but some peace would be nice.

SIMPLE LOVING

LENGTH : 0.7k

TAGS : fluff ; remus being smitten ; feeding each other ; couple goals ; tickle fight

NAVI.

“How was Herbology, Rem?” you ask, sitting between his outstretched legs under the willow tree as it cried over the black lake. It was lunch break and because it was one of the lovelier days outside, you and your boyfriend decided to have lunch picnic-style along with the rest of his friends. Your group were also free to join, as always, and sat not too far from where you were comfortably melded against Remus, who lent back against the willow tree’s trunk. The both of you were cradled by its roots and shaded relatively well by its mourning silhouette. It was a perfect day. 

“It wasn’t bad,” Remus mumbles against your hair before pressing a brief kiss against your temple. Straining your neck only slightly, you share a smile before relaxing into one another once more, “how was Charms?” he asks, wrapping one arm around your torso as his other hand extends out to your right and pulls the small plate of lunch you brought out from the dinner hall. Remus had done the same but hadn’t touched his lunch yet. He prioritises yours and begins to feed unprompted. Caring for you comes so easily to him. 

In between mouthfuls, you reiterate the happenings of your Charms class. Remus didn’t care if the conversation got boring or had extended pauses, he merely enjoyed being around you. He also really enjoyed tending to your needs in small gestures. People often saw him carrying your heavy books to classes, helping you with your assignments and carrying spare hair ties on his wrists for you. Boys didn’t appreciate his setting of the standard and girls envied you for having such a considerate lover. 

“The flick and swish always gets me. There’s no standard for it so it’s always so variable. Others made it look so easy but I’ll show them and master that charm soon enough,” Remus smiles at your attitude and rids your pout by offering another spoonful. He loves listening to you talk. He loved hearing the sound of your voice; it was one of the most beautiful sounds he could hear. Whenever you got to talking, he always made sure to be completely silent and gave your words special attention. Oftentimes, whenever he’s reading his academic books for references and pre-reading relevant material before classes, your voice would be the one reading out the verses in his mind — that way, learning became a little more enjoyable and he got through the material much quicker. You finish up your plate of lunch soon enough and lovingly turn your face to kiss his inner wrist in gratitude.  

“Your turn, Rem,” you giggle and reach for his neglected plate of lunch. Smiling warmly, Remus observes as you turn in place before moving to straddle his lap. Naturally, his large hands move to hold your hips and you begin to feed him bite after bite.

In the background, your friends gape obnoxiously at the affectionate display, some burn bright red in the cheeks and others hurriedly look away. It was incredibly easy to mistake your activities for something much as the willow tree’s roots cradled your forms and obscured your lower halves. However, your innocent feeding of his lunch was all the indication they needed to know you weren’t doing anything beyond that. 

“You’re a mischievous little minx, you know that, darling?” Remus muses, licking his lips as you set down his finished plate. 

“Hmm?” you tilt your head innocently and lean down for a kiss, licking away the remnants of his lunch from his lips as you pull away, “What do you mean, Rem? I don’t know what you’re talking about,”

He laughs at your playful display and carefully throws you off him, to the grass. As you lay on your back, giggling sweetly, he leans over your form and captures your lips in a heated kiss. A stray hand traces the curves of your waist and hips as the other keeps him hovering above you. He never goes too far with intimacy, especially in such a public place but you savour the scandalised gasps of your distant friends. Your handsome boyfriend pulls away with a hidden smirk and buries his face into your neck, kissing your sensitive skin and tickling the area with his nose. 

“Remus!” you squeal in delight, laughing as brightly as the sun overhead. His wondering hand and the loving kisses to your neck and shoulder had quickly divulged into a tickle attack. Onlookers stare on, envious of such a loving and harmonious relationship. 

“Lily, can we—”

“No!”    

NAVI.

A/N : i'm so sorry it took me such a long time to get to this request, my love, i was in a rut with requests for such a long time and i kept overthinking them all. I'm afraid i don't make any explicit mentions of reader being a ravenclaw but it's still fluffy and cute and perfectly sweet for you x

[thekqipond]

JAMES POTTER | HOW TO DRESS (SHORT VER.)

LENGTH : 5.6k

SUM. : when you pull away from James, he does his best to convince you to stay ; smut version only

CONTENT WARNING : dubcon/cnc ; resisting ; dirty talk ; creampies ; overstimulation ; oral/cunniglingus (female receiving) ; body worship ; praise kink ; multiple orgasms ; mirror sex ; soft james turned dark james ; pregnation/breeding kink ; dom!james ; sub!reader ; unprotected sex ; slight cockwarming

FULL VER.

You wake up with a start to see the room drenched in a warm glow, the sight immediately making you stand from the sofa you had fallen asleep on. You didn’t light the fireplace last night… you were too exhausted to. It was thanks to the heat of the fire that you no longer needed to be bundled up in the blanket despite only wearing a white button-up and your panties. At the very least, your arms were free to move about without restrictions if you needed to fight back an intruder. 

“Love,” a familiar, warm voice calls in a whisper beside you. 

“James!” you gasp in shock when you see him standing before you, coming out of the bedroom shirtless with one of the spare shirts from the wardrobe in his hand and wet hair. Did he try finding you in the storm? The thought warmed your heart but your firm decision to leave him frosted over all warmth, leaving your chest hollow. Just as quickly as James saw your beautiful smile pull at your lips, your expression was disciplined into something cold and neutral. 

“I’m so glad you’re safe—” he tries to approach you with open arms and a relieved smile but you back away quickly, your hands pushed out as if to push him away. 

“No!”

“...No?”

“You shouldn’t be here, James. You shouldn’t have come looking for me!”

“And why not?” a familiar feeling comes creeping into James’ anxiously beating heart. He knows this suffocating atmosphere, he knows it too well. But that was only around Lily… never you. He loves you to the ends of the earth and he knows you love him just as much in return. Is that why the realisation hurts him more than it has ever hurt him with Lily? 

“It’s not safe out in the storm–”

“I had to look for you! I was so scared that you were in some kind of danger and needed help!” 

“WeShouldn’tBeTogetherAnymore!” you don’t meet his eyes despite shouting with such conviction. You don’t think you could have said it any other way. Blurting out the words frantically was easier than saying every syllable clearly. 

James doesn’t know what to say. At that moment, it hurt too much to look at him so you don’t see the way his face grew cold and his eyes became consumed by a darkness that wasn’t characteristic of him, “Your mother’s right… we don’t belong together.” 

The world spirals around James. This can’t be happening. You weren’t Lily. You can’t break his heart like this – you aren’t the type. You promised to be his forever and he promised to forever be with you— was there someone else? This can’t just be because of his mother! You’re his perfect match, there’s no way you would deny that, you always said you love him back. This is all a lie. James isn’t going to accept this!

“You don’t mean that, love,” James coos gently, not wanting to believe your words himself and approaches steadily like a crawling predator waiting to strike. 

“Y-yes I do!” You see his slow approach and try to maintain the distance between you but you can only move back so far before you’re pressed up against the wall. Seeing the opportunity, James raises arms and presses his palms on the wall beside your head, trapping you in place. Despite the proximity, you don’t meet his eyes.

“We don’t belong together…you deserve someone better. I can’t be with you anymore, we’re not a good match,” you sniffle and James resists the urge to kiss your tears away. Beside your head, his hands clench into fists against the wooden walls.

“Say it to my face then, look into my eyes and tell me you don’t love me anymore — that you don’t want me anymore,”

“James…” You muster up the courage but your voice still comes out, somewhat, shaky, “I-I don’t want to be with you anymore,” his expression remains steely and cold, the fierce glint of resolve in his eyes, unrelenting, “I don’t love you anymore…” 

“I don’t, at least, make you feel good?”

“No.”

He doesn’t respond, instead, he keeps you pressed against the wall and manoeuvres his face to rest beside your ear, his husky voice weakening your knees “Are you sure about that?” he snakes his hands around your waist to press his fingers into your lower back. Under his touch, you suppress a whimper of relief as his massaging motions ease some strain in your back. 

“James, stop it,” you huff, trying to push him away but you barely find the strength in yourself to shove him off with force. The love you have for him still lingers inside you, burrowed deep in your heart with no intent of leaving despite your earlier resolution. 

“No,” his fingers continue to massage your lower back as his lips begin to press a trail of kisses down your neck, “I don’t believe you,” he insists, “I can see it in your eyes,” he bares his teeth against the junction of your neck and shoulder, and draws a squeal from your parted lips, “You love me! You never stopped! And I’m the only one who can make you feel good!”

“No!”

“‘No’, you never stopped? ‘No’ no one makes you feel as good as me?” you can feel his naked chest pressing down against yours through the thin button-up, vibrating as he chuckles darkly. His hands start roaming your body, teasingly brushing against the sides of your breasts and tracing the curves of your silhouette. He loves your body. You’re the most beautiful woman he has ever had the honour of touching and kissing — his treasure. 

“Nooo!” you whine once more, not giving him a straight answer and succumbing to his familiar, fondling hands. He loves that you’re wearing his old shirt; not only do you look delectable in it but a surge of possessiveness washes over him at how small you appear. And the fact that you were allowing him to fondle you with your soft skin, pouty lips and pretty, tearful eyes, turns him on so much. 

Everything about you was a turn-on for him. James doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard before, it was almost painful still being in the confines of his trousers. But he wouldn’t dare waste time on frivolous things like that, hearing your soft, gasps and delicate moans spur him on to continue pulling moan after moan from your sweet lips. Lips that he had been neglecting to kiss and immediately moved up to capture in a heated tango.  

Time blurs along with the scene around you, all your mind can seem to comprehend is James’ weight pressing your back against the wall as his caressing hands map a dangerous path along your skin, getting closer and closer to your intimate areas — your nipples were already hard as rocks, attempting to poke through his thin button up as your panties were practically soaked through by your arousal. 

Your resolve to keep your distance and do what was best for him was close to gone, wiped from all areas of your mind so that the only thing left was a growing want for pleasure. A pleasure that only James could give. Mind numb, you had no strength to do anything except whimper and moan against his broad shoulder until he suddenly cups your right breast and uses his pointer finger to play with your hardened nipple through the fabric. 

“J-James!” you gasp, pulling away from his lips and ignoring the string of saliva connecting your lips to press against his shoulder with your shaking palms. Your resolve returns and the tug of war between your desires and reluctant refusal of his touch continues, “Ahhhh~ stop it~” he doesn’t stop, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t, “please…” you beg pathetically, the tone of your voice unclear. His hands, his lips and his touch were making you feel hot, and the beginning of a tight knot was forming in the depths of your lower abdomen — it was becoming harder and harder to resist him.  

While you’re distracted by the hand he has fondling your breast, James creeps his other hand up your inner thigh and edges your panties aside with a finger. He can see the realisation in your eyes when his finger brushes shyly against your clit. But he gives you no time to react and plunges his two fingers into your heat without warning. It was an easy entrance because you were so wet and hot and eager. And as James groans at the thought of his cock replacing his fingers inside you, his feverish probing against your inner walls shatters the last remaining strength in your knees. 

Your upper teeth bite down on your bottom lip, trapping the moans in your throat and keeping them from spilling. However, just as James pushes his fingers inside you, he’s pulling them out again. Soaked all the way down to his knuckles. He raises his two fingers to his lips and sucks them clean of your juices with a resounding groan as if he’s sampled the most flavourful dish he’s ever had. 

“Your mouth likes to lie, it’s great at lying apparently,” he snarls, the accusation and harsh tone making you whimper and your heart sinks from guilt. As always, he can see right through you. You don’t really want to leave James, he’s been the perfect boyfriend and you want to be with him forever… “so I’ll only trust what your pretty pussy lips have to say instead…” he licks his lips and stares into your eyes darkly, but rather than feel fear at his unusually impious stare, an arousing thrill flourishes in your stomach and raises the goosebumps on your upper arms, “it doesn’t taste like you don’t love me anymore,” a devilish grin stretches across his lips, his eyes never leaving yours, “you taste like you finally want me to love you all the way,” 

“No, I don’t,” your retaliating statement comes too firmly and too quickly for James to not heat up in anger. Where had your previous meekness and slow build-up to acceptance gone? It can’t just vanish; it’s still there…somewhere, he just needs to coax it out of you again!

With a rumbling growl from the back of his throat, he lifts you to hang off his shoulder without any care and takes a handful of long strides to his designated bedroom at the small cabin. He kneels down before throwing you onto the bed so that you fall back with just enough force and care to know that, despite his anger, he still loves you deeply. 

The strength behind his action leaves you shocked and vulnerable for a few moments but that’s all James needs. Gripping your thighs, he hoists your lower half up and rests the back of your upper thighs on his shoulders so he could devour your pussy shamelessly. 

Crying aloud, you arch your back and thrash against him. Your hands grip his soft, untamed curls and delude yourself into believing that you are actively resisting him, trying to push away his head from in between your thighs. However, in the position James has—lifted high with your abdomen pressed down by a hand and securing your lower back against his chest—it’s too difficult for you to push him away. You’re at his complete mercy. He kneels on the bed with his chin tucked into his collar, plunging his tongue in and out of your pussy, his nose stimulating your clit as he laps up as much of your juices as he possibly could. Beneath him, you’re floundering, half lifted into the air with only your shoulders, head and neck still on the bed. 

“James! Ahhhh!” You squeal in pleasure when he raises a hand to finger at your clit as his chin tilts up and his tongue curls deliciously inside you. He’s driving you closer and closer to the edge! 

Your once sweet James was gone. His loving and goofy self was lost to the lust-hungry man with his head buried between your thighs. He’s determined to unravel you at the seams with only the methodical writhing of his tongue and the stimulation of your sensitive clit. 

And, unravel, you did.

It was a searing white, hot and euphoric, sensation. Your erotic scream upon release was never registered by your ears as you were too consumed by rolling waves of ecstasy. The storm outside no longer existed. The rest of the world had disappeared too. It was only you and James and the bed. 

You don’t know how long it took you to finally catch your breath and focus your vision but when you did, James had pulled off your panties completely and was leaning over you, trying to hurriedly unbutton your– his shirt, desperate to see more of your skin. Without your panties, you’re naked underneath it and he needed to see you with nothing on. 

Quickly becoming impatient, James grips at the two halves of his button-up and savagely rips them apart as you gasp at the brute force he’s capable of exerting. But the instant his eyes fall upon your naked skin, his brutishness disappears entirely. His hazel eyes visibly soften and his fingers shyly drift over the skin of your stomach, delicate and caring, as if you were made of glass and he was afraid of breaking you. The loving, sweet James you knew was back. Though you were also getting quickly accustomed to his more savage side. 

“You’re so beautiful…” he whispers in awe and a surge of love tumbles over you, spurred by the admiration and worship in his pretty hazel eyes. The man before you was still your sweet and loving James, charming, kind and oh so loveable. It made tears fill your eyes. How did the two of you end up like this? With you refusing his love when you know that, deep down, that was all you ever wanted… forget your entrepreneurial dreams, James was it for you as much as you know you’re it for him. 

James didn’t allow you to contemplate your situation for very long as he was swiftly trailing delicate kisses up your torso and to your breasts. He eagerly sucks on your nipple, his hands placing themselves on your hips, pressing down – an anchor – and caressing your soft skin with his thumb. His tongue and teeth on your nipple pull endless streams of delicate whimpers and airy sighs from your lips, and he relishes every single one. 

You can see it in his hazel eyes, how much he adores it when your whimpers tremble and when your sighs raise a little higher in pitch. It compels you to keep vocalising your pleasure despite your mind arguing against you. You need to be stronger than this, you needed to resist him…he deserved better than you, he deserves greater happiness and he couldn’t have that if you were the one selfishly standing by his side, there’s a better match for him out there– but ohh~ he makes you feel sooo goood… 

Finally, he pulls away. You watch a strand of saliva connecting your nipple to his tongue slowly stretch and break off when he towers over your frame. His knees lock you in where he straddles your plush thighs and his back elongates to stretch his domineering figure taller, accentuating the ridges and lines of his toned abdomen. 

“You love me,” his voice is firm, trying to sway your decision and reel you back to him. 

“N-no…” You shake your head and your voice trembles with the lie. Your attempt to continue denying the obvious was pitiful and disappointing to the man before you. He clicks his tongue at your stubborn resistance but his gaze immediately softens at the sight of tears collecting at your waterline. With eyes like glass, the windows to your soul, James is reminded of why you were being so stubborn in the first place. 

It’s because he’s right. You do love him…and it’s because you love him that you will continue to resist. But it’s because you love him that he will continue to resist also. 

“I love you…” His soft gaze and loving words strip away all your defences. Your forged hatred and rejection disappear into nothing.

You don’t say anything. You can’t because how could you? After everything. After all your stupid decisions and flagrant exploitation of his trust, how could you ever return those same beautiful and affectionate words? Even if you mean every single one? You’re the selfish one here! His mother is right about him deserving better! Why can’t he see that?! 

To avoid his stare, you turn your face away and cover your eyes with your arm. Silence fills the room, and there’s a pause in all activity. All you want to do is escape the situation, denying ever being in such circumstances by rendering yourself incapable of seeing anything but darkness – the shadow of your arm, your only shield against James’s persistent call for you to return to him, to admit loving him back.

The silence lingers and is eventually broken by the sound of a belt being unbuckled followed by the shifting of fabric and a heart-thundering zzzzzzzzip….

Unveiling your eyes, you’re left speechless and blinking in shock at the sight of James taking off his pants and briefs. Unaffected by your frantic scramble, he stares down at you wordlessly. 

“James!…” he doesn’t answer your call.

You gasp, beginning to crawl backwards when he leans over you with his hard and angry erection in full view. In your peripheral, his length twitches and when you bend your knee to plant your feet on the bed and propel yourself backwards, your thigh comes so close to his hardness that you can feel the burning heat radiating from its stiff length.

“I’m going to show you how much I love you,” he finally says, “I’m going to fill you up over and over again, and I’m not going to stop until I know that you finally understand how much you mean to me,” he grabs your ankle and yanks you back down to him, your ass almost slipping off the edge of the bed, “understand how much I love you,” he trails a feathery touch up your thigh as he pushes them apart, “understand how I can’t live without you anymore and how desperately I want a future with you…” 

He raises your right leg and rests your heel against his shoulder, turning his face to kiss your ankle sweetly. His other hand grips your other thigh and anchors it to his waist, prompting your leg to wrap around him. “You’ll let me do it, won’t you?” He meets your eyes, “I know you love me, after all… isn’t that right?”

“...no….” You protest one last time but it’s so quiet, so demure and so lacking in strength that James searches your eyes for the real answer. As much as you know you have to resist him and deny his advances for his own betterment, you silently plead for his love. Your tearful eyes beg him to do whatever he wants and to give you his everything. You want him to love you all the way, like he always said he would despite his reluctance to love wholly once more after Lily Evans. What rotten timing. The time he’s finally willing to become yours and vice versa officially, his overprotective mother scares you away. 

“Speak up, love,” he urges despite knowing everything he needs to know only through the look in your eyes. You feel him lube up the head of his cock with your juices, letting out a shaky breath as he does so before finally lining himself up with your entrance. 

“No,” You voice a little louder. 

“No?” He bucks against your entrance with a hiss and you bite back a moan. 

“N-no…” he laughs at your pathetic whimper, the sound of which makes your lower belly clench around nothing. It was so sadistic and demeaning —you didn’t know that he could ever be like this, let alone make you feel this way. 

“Then—!” You both gasp when the swollen head of his cock breaks through your tight entrance, “then I’ll just—“ he continues to push forward, enjoying the view of your trembling form under him. He almost coos at how your small hands shakily grip the sheets, “—take you,” he exhales slowly after successfully burying himself inside you, he leans down to whisper inches away from your face, “I’ll just take you as I please,”

The brutal pace he sets from the start unhinges your jaw to let out a silent scream of pleasure. He had eaten you out so well that there was no pain, just a lingering ache after every punishing thrust, which only added to the pleasure. His rhythm steals your breath but doesn’t stop you from moaning erotically with your head thrown back in pleasure. 

“Oh, James! Ahhh!” You sob and stare up at him pleadingly, not knowing exactly what you were begging for anymore, “J-Jamie~…!” Above you, James groans at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue — only you could make his name sound oh so sweet~

“That’s it, love,” he smiles down wickedly, “that’s a good girl~” your back arches at his praise, which pushes your hips against him and catches the head of his cock against your walls at a different angle, pulling a squeal from your bitten lips.  

“Oh~” he coos, leaning forward to grip your hips as he lets go of your legs, “you like that spot, do you?” He holds your hips in place, marking the angle that gave you the most pleasure and proceeds to abuse your weakness viciously, his punishing thrusts unrelenting.

“O-ohh God! Ahhh!” 

“You don’t love me?” He challenges in between pants, groaning as your velvet walls throb and flutter around his stiff length, “LIES!” He snaps, suddenly pulling out of you so he could flip you over and take you from behind, “You’re a fucking liar!” 

Your front half collapses from the pleasure and James is left to hold your hips up himself, “I-I’m not,” you sob into the sheets, the tears in your eyes spilling past your waterline and getting soaked up by the soft linen.

“Then WHY are you so WET, love?” He growls into your hair, having leant over to press his torso against your arched back and bury his face into the back of your head, his mouth angled to your ear so that his breath tickles your skin at every word. Both of you groan in unison as the position makes him reach impossibly deep inside you, “WHY do you keep clenching around me like — oh fuck— like you want to drain my balls dry?”

“Ahhh! James!” he speeds up suddenly and you can barely keep up with your breathing. 

“And WHY are you pushing your hips back for me? Hm? You want me in deep, do you?” your gasp of realisation is disguised by your surprised squeal when his large hand comes down harshly to hit your ass. 

“Th-that’s not—“Despite your verbal protest, you don’t stop moving your hips in tandem with his own. You can’t help it. He feels too good! So big and thick and he’s hitting all the right places…!

“I’ll give you what you want,” he picks up the pace and bites your shoulder, quickly kissing and licking the stinging mark he leaves behind, “I’ll fill you up, love,” you don’t protest, instead, you moan louder and encourage him to push you closer and closer to the edge, “I’ll fill up your fertile, greedy little belly good— Aah! Okay?” 

You don’t answer him as pleasure takes over your mind and all you can do is moan. James also succumbs to the pleasure, sweat on his furrowed brow and tension building in his muscles as he quickly approaches his euphoric end. 

But no — he won’t allow himself that until you are fully satisfied. He’ll bring you to your release over and over again before he even thinks about stopping. 

With a scream, your vision turns white and your body stiffens up. James cries with pleasure, almost sobbing at the heavenly convulsions of your tight walls around him. As you slowly go limp beneath him, he finally succumbs to his own pleasure, satisfied that had reached your peak already. With a loud, shuddering moan, James pumps you full of his pent-up cum but he doesn’t stop thrusting. His movements are significantly more sluggish but he’s determined to push his white, thick release as deep as it can go.   

“You’re so beautiful…” he doesn’t pull out, “my beautiful girl, all mine,” you feel his large hand gently press against the soft skin of your belly and you hear the smile in his voice when he realises– “you’re full of me now. You took me so well, baby,” he coos beside your ear, his hot breath sending a shudder down your spine. 

Tilting you both over to lay on your side, he presses into you from behind and cuddles you close. The two of you lay there catching your breaths with James still buried inside you, determined not to pull out and spill all signs of your union.  

“...James?” you ask quietly after finally managing to catch your breath. 

“Yes, love?” he purrs lowly, kissing behind your ear as he pulls you impossibly close. The affection makes your heart flutter lightly. It’s impossible to deny him like this. Why did he have to make you feel so good? Why did he have to make you feel so loved?

“Please just… think about it?” He tenses up and you hold your breath in preparation for what may come.

“Think about what?...” his hands begin to wander at your front, his delicate touch tracing an unbroken path over your soft skin, “About how much I love you? How much I dream of our future together?”

His words make you tear up, “No, not that—”

“Then, about how beautiful you are? Because you’re very beautiful, my love,” still inside you, James’ fat cock begins to rise again, erect and throbbing for friction, lots of friction. 

“J-James–! Ahh! Wait!”

“And I don’t think you realise how beautiful you are, pet~” he coos almost demeaningly, ignoring your squirming, “it’s about time I show you just how beautiful you really are, and how beautifully you take my cock.” your breath stills at the implication, making James smirk into your hair, “Ready for round two?”

Yelping pathetically, James lifts you like a ragdoll and shuffles you both into the bathroom. He had to pull out for the manoeuvre and thick globes of his release poke at the ring of muscle at your entrance. The sensation makes you whimper and clench around nothing, making his hot cum slip out and begin crawling down your inner thigh. Inside the bathroom, James leans you over the sink and carefully parts your hair to kiss the slope of your shoulder before his large hands grab the globes of your ass to pry them apart delicately. 

The sight of his thick cum oozing out of your pussy and leaking down your inner thigh pulls a guttural groan from the depths of James’ chest. “You’re so fucking sexy baby,” he praises and smirks at the whimper his comment pulls from your pretty lips, “but what a waste of my cum.” He positions himself behind you, feet shoulder-width apart, and presses his mushroom tip against your wet opening. You’ve become so sensitive that the simple touch makes you squirm but his strong hold on your hips keeps you still. Without warning, he pushes inside so violently, you cry out and fall forward. You would have hit your head if your hands hadn’t come up to brace you against the large wall mirror above the sink. 

“Letting my cum drip out of you like that means I need to fill you up again, lovie,” he coos sweetly as if he wasn’t railing you from behind and pushing more of his thick cum out of you. He’s using his spilt seed as lubrication for your second round. “What a devious little minx you are,” James rests his chin against your bare shoulder, his bent-over form hitting a new angle and making you wail in pleasure, “I bet you pushed it out on purpose so I would pump you full again.” He kisses your cheek and you have to face down so you didn’t have to watch yourself getting savagely fucked by the devilish beast who’d possessed your loving boyfriend’s (ex? – that broke your heart) chiselled body. If you continued watching the erotic scene, you would cum too quickly and… you didn’t want that… 

“Look at yourself!” James demands and pushes your chin up from underneath, forcing you to watch yourself get fucked. 

Eyes wide, you try to look away but he holds your chin in place, “N-no! James!”

“Why not?” he pants heavily, pleasure evident on his beautiful face. You can tell that he was savouring the feeling of you with the way every odd twitch of his brow perfectly corresponded to the sporadic tightening of your walls, “you look so beautiful, my love, see?” he meets your eyes in the mirror, “you’re an angel, an angel who’s perfectly made for me. And I, you,” his poetry weakens your resolve more and more, “Don’t you see how beautiful we look together? We’re the perfect match, baby.” your moans and pants fog up the mirror, unable to say anything back as you’re too lost in the pleasure. James takes his hand away from your chin and focuses on aiming every powerful thrust perfectly so that you feel every tingle of pleasure spike up your spine. Maybe it’ll be able to convince you to stay with him despite his mother’s unwarranted comments. 

Feeling yourself tear up at your lover’s words and the sight of your pairing, you turn to the side, only to gasp at the new sight. The glass barrier of the shower provides you with the faintest reflection of your full-body lovemaking with James. His toned body and perfectly carved muscles make him look like a god and he was fucking you as if he had never felt pleasure like this before. His powerful thrusts make your ass bounce rhythmically and his down-turned face makes it obvious how transfixed he is with the movement, urging him to continue despite the ache in his legs and hips. 

Seeing the two of you joined together like this and fully lost in the throes of passion stirs something in your lower belly. It’s familiar and aching and hot and—

Throwing your head back, you scream in pleasure and reach your high once again. Your legs are shaking and your hands try to grip the surface of the mirror in an attempt to steady the convulsions of your upper body. Behind you, James gives a few more powerful thrusts before spilling his hot cum inside you again. With the way your walls pulse and throb around him, your uterus wanted to swallow every bit of his cum and make a baby. And with how viscous his release is, there’s a high chance you’ve become pregnant. 

Your legs are weak but James keeps you up with steady hands and a secure frame. Again, despite already reaching his high, James doesn’t stop thrusting into you until you’re whimpering from overstimulation. Finally coming to a full stop, James lets out something between a sob and a groan, burrowing his face into your shoulder, “Don’t leave me— please don’t leave me… I love you,” where his lashes press against your skin, a wetness pools and you’re alerted to his tears. 

You take a shuddering breath and reach up a hand to comb through your lover’s untamed curls. “I’ll stay Jamie…” James almost snaps his neck in half looking up, his wide, hopeful eyes connecting with yours in the mirror.

“You..?”

“I’ll stay,”  you repeat gently but firmly, smiling at him. 

“Really?”

“Yes really,” you giggle at his visage; he looks like a kid on Christmas day. “At this rate, I don’t really have a choice,” you begin teasingly as his brows furrow in wonder, “after all of that, I might as well be pregnant right now,”

Your joke isn’t met with a humorous chuckle like you expect, instead, there’s a stirring inside you. Gasping softly, you turn your head and meet James’ dark stare with wide-eyed shock, “Jamie! It’s t-too soon—” he captures your lips fiercely and begins ramming into you for the third time – in a matter of seconds, he had become rock hard again. However, in the state that you were in, sensitive from overstimulation, there isn’t a chance of you lasting longer than a minute. “A-ahhhh! James!”

“Fuck! I love you so much~” James moans deeply, a string of saliva connecting your lips as he pulls back from the heated kiss, “you drive me fucking crazy,” you try holding on for as long as you can but James slapping your ass only to grip possessively at the flesh was all it took to make you cum again. The high makes you tear up, becoming a pitiful, whimpering mess beneath your tenacious lover. 

“I want to make sure you’re really pregnant by the end of tonight,” James comments as he presses a kiss into the back of your head. “We can keep going until sunrise, can’t we, love?”

There’s only one true answer to that, “yes~”

NAVI. | FULL VER.

A/N : this is the short version of my first-ever smut fic. this version only contains the main nsfw scene of the oneshot. i hope you darlings enjoy the read! if you're interested, feel free to read the full version too!

[thekqipond]

JAMES POTTER | HOW TO DRESS (FULL VER.)

SUM. : You and James are a mismatched couple, coming from two different worlds. When you don't get immediate approval from James' mother, you're forced to face just how different you two are and find yourself trying to pull away from James only to have him pull you back harder.

LENGTH : 16.4k

TAGS : modern au ; muggle au ; fluff ; explicit ; porn with plot ; slight slow burn ; modern high society ; server/waitress reader ; server/waiter remus ; best friend remus ; co-worker remus ; supermodel sirius ; private island get-away ; overprotective euphemia ; slight lily evans slander imsorry! ; slight euphemia slander imsorryagain! ; mutual pining ; engagement ; disapproving mother-in-law trope ; slight wolfstar mentions ; aspiring businesswoman reader ; fluff to angst to smut to fluff again ; rich suitor x poor suitor trope ; arguments ; this was inspired by a dream i had of aaron taylor johnson...

CONTENT WARNING : dubious consent/CNC ; resisting ; dirty filthy talk ; creampies (plural) ; overstimulation ; oral (female receiving) body worship ; praise kink? ; p in v ; forced? ; reader secretly likes it ; animalistic imagery ; rough with sprinkles of softness in between ; multiple orgasms ; dry humping ; finger fucking (female receiving) ; tongue fucking/cunnilingus (female receiving) ; mirror ; soft james turned dark james ; semi-dark!james potter ; pregnation kink/breeding kink ; dom!james ; sub!reader ; unprotected sex ; slight cockwarming?

SHORT VER. (just smut)

“Are they not together anymore?” you whisper to Remus, a dear friend and close colleague, who shrugs and tries to focus back on his duties of attending to guests. 

Under the romantic light of the chandeliers, you observe the handsome, upper-class brunette from afar. He was always quite striking and a suit fit him well; his broad shoulders were emphasised, wide and sturdy. It's been over a year, maybe even two years since you’ve last seen the man and his close friend attend such events, which was strange. What was even stranger was that the glasses-wearing hunk wasn’t accompanied by his usual date, a fiery redhead with the beauty of a nymph and glittering emerald eyes. 

For many months, you admired the couple and the love that they had for each other. It was clear that the man adored her; he treated her sweetly and was always directing a charming smile at her, his cheeks dimpling most adorably. It had become a common occurrence for Remus to entertain your ramblings for wanting a fairytale romance like theirs, battling between your drive to achieve your dream career and equal desire for meeting the love of your life. 

“You need to stop being so nosy,” the tall brunette avoids your question altogether and offers a kind, elegant smile when an attendee of the lavish soiree reaches for a champagne flute on his silver tray. Knowing you all too well, Remus cuts you off just as your lips part to protest — his tone never biting, just stern, “We’re on the clock right now… we can talk later,” you had no argument to go against him with. He was right. Remus was always right. With a nod, you continue to service the attendees of the evening party with finger food and champagne. 

Nevertheless, throughout the night, you couldn’t take your eyes away from the once exuberant gentleman, who had captured your eye all those years ago. It was his charm and handsome smile that drew you in the first time, a charm and smile that was once only meant for his redheaded date. But now, your eyes lingered on him for the fact that his visage was absent of all those things — precious things that he looked terribly lonely without. 

He stood out as a single, solitary silhouette in a sea of ladies and gentlemen, respectively clothed in grandiose dresses and elegant suits. Glimpses you’ve had of his stare, in passing, confirm your regretful suspicions. His warm, hazel eyes were now stone cold and his face was devoid of his warm smile. 

It’s been almost two years already, and yet, he is still grieving the partner he had once attended such high society parties with. But was that really the case? A couple that looked so perfect for each other couldn’t have just split up so frigidly. Perhaps she was sick tonight… or was that wishful thinking on your part? You had romanticised their relationship in your head numerous times so your denial could stem from your want for their love to overcome all obstacles. Because if their bright, warm love couldn’t conquer all, what hope was there for you?...

Unable to shake your thoughts, you request an early break, hoping that Remus can find it in himself to forgive you when he finds out. Usually, the two of you took your breaks together but you were so distracted tonight, that you desperately needed to get away from it all. More so the stranger that you couldn’t get out of your head. Well… he wasn’t much of a stranger, really; you know his name, James Potter. 

You know all the guests’ names as it’s required of every hired server, such that impeccable service is delivered every single time. However, you know James Potter in particular; he’s always been an interesting name and he brings about a different energy compared to the many other attendees of the soiree. 

Most come from old money, generations of wealth and reputation upholding the many decorated names written in the guest books, the Blacks, the Gaunts, the Abbots, the Ollivanders, the Prewetts and many more. But the Potters were relatively new. It was rare for families built upon new money to be able to mingle with such established households, and the rarity of it encompassed the Potters with a very unique air. They weren’t born into wealth, it was all through the hard work of the Potter’s Patriarch, Fleamont. They weren’t born into such a life but they were definitely made for it; they fit right in but also garnered good attention, they were a new light that attracted the many ancient moths and spiders that were the old money of high society. Hence, try as you might, the Potters, especially James Potter, couldn't leave your mind.  

This was unusual for you. Typically, the only thing that occupied your thoughts were your endeavours to achieve your dream career, that was why you took on so many jobs. You have the opening shift tomorrow at another job that you desperately need to make ends meet. The thought of having to wake up early for opening makes you groan aloud. At least you had this job. It was a saving grace, somewhat, because it allowed you to be around so many well-dressed people. Their fashion came from the very best designers out there, all luxury, and that was your dream — to be a part of it all, to dress up in fashionable pieces that were to be worn with elegance and poise, your reputation as an entrepreneur would be on the line but what a reputation it’ll be. Not only that but to have the freedom to do more with your time. You would wake up every morning and comfortably ponder on what you want to do that day. No stress, not angry bosses breathing down your neck, just you. 

What a dream…

Regardless, that didn’t take away the fact that you have an early shift tomorrow. You let out another groan and collapsed against the balcony’s stone railing. What a life, forced to suffer before you could make your dreams come true. If you could make your dreams come true…

“That doesn’t sound promising…” a voice pipes up in the silent night, flowing from in between the light of twinkling stars and the pale, observant moon. You jump with a squeal of surprise, the dramatic flailing of your arms drawing out a peel of laughter from the man who was over on the other balcony. The event was hosted on a very architecturally lavish site and there were multiple balconies, some even right next to each other. But out of all the people tonight, to think you would end up eye to eye with James Potter, “sorry for scaring you,” he apologises but the cheeky smile on his lips doesn’t leave, nor does the twinkling mirth in his hazel eyes. 

“Uh—” You didn’t know what to say, this was a man you had seen on many occasions, quietly observing him from afar — it felt surreal for him to be addressing you directly, “a-are you talking to me?”

He raises a brow, his look of amusement never leaving his handsome face, a charming curl of his dark hair catching your attention as it rests against his perfect forehead, “ah— no, my apologies. Yes, I’m actually talking to that tree over there,” he briefly points to a fir tree with his chin, which makes you cast a short glance at the towering giant of an evergreen. 

Unable to stop yourself, you face him with an unamused frown and a blank stare, which elicits another giggle from the suited man. It was a refreshing sight, especially since he had been looking so depressed the entire night. You know that you should act professional but you liked seeing his smile again. 

“Very interesting, I didn’t know trees could talk,” you counter smartly with your arms crossed and a raised brow.

The amusement in his eyes doesn’t leave, it’s quite infectious actually and you’re playing right along with him, “They’re great conversationalists,” without realising, the two of you walk to each other and begin to talk over the two balconies, your smiles never leaving your faces as you become fully immersed in conversation. 

“Maybe I should go and find myself a tree friend too,”

“I highly recommend it,”

“Any species in particular?”

“Apple trees are always fun,”

“How so?”

“Well, if you’re nice they let you pick an apple of your choosing, and they’re always very charming,”

“I see, I see,”

The two of you bounce off each other like natural friends, conversing as if you weren’t from two different worlds, sharing laughter and quickly retelling your favourite personal stories to one another.

“You’re too far away,” James complains at one point. It makes you absently lean forward over the balcony rail to help aid his protest.

“Oh? Should I talk louder?” you ask, already speaking in an amplified voice. He doesn’t reply, instead, he moves to stand on top of the balcony railing before leaping over to the balcony you were on, rendering you speechless. You don’t know if you should shout at him for being reckless and endangering his life or cheer at his impressive stunt. 

“No need,” James huffs, patting down his suit as he smirks at your shocked expression, “now we can talk more comfortably,”

“I don’t know if I should be impressed or angry at what you just did,” you were breathless despite not being the one to leap across balconies. Laughing aloud, James takes your hand and bends in half to kiss your knuckles, his eyes never leaving yours.

“A pleasure to officially meet you, my fair lady,” he greets as a heat crawls up your neck to spread across your cheeks, “my name is James Potter,” you bite your tongue to keep from expressing that you already knew his name and politely reply with your self-introduction, instead.

You were severely reprimanded for going over your allotted break time that evening and you dreaded losing your job if it weren’t for James. Both you and Remus fully anticipated an email or phone call reaching your phone, trying to discuss your termination from the elite servicing company but, instead, you were surprised to receive an enthusiastic call. Your employer raved about your great work and happily dismissed your absence for most of the evening service. When you asked why, he explained everything, from how James Potter had asked you for help and that you went above and beyond to ensure his comfort and enjoyment for the night. 

“I should be the one taking you out for coffee, not the other way around,” you laugh, smiling up at James, who grins widely. He isn’t as elegantly dressed as when he’s attending a soiree or gala but you’ll admit that the cable knit jumper and unkempt curls look much better on him. Rosy-cheeked and chap-lipped against the chill winter air, he was the picture of handsome. 

“Nonsense, I wanted to get coffee for you,” with his breath visible in the air, he subtly admires you in your layers of clothing. Beside him, you’re bundled up warm and with a fashionable, cashmere scarf to wrap it all together. 

“You’re sweet, thank you,”

The sincerity in your voice appears to draw out some of his shame, “I hope you don’t mind me swindling your phone number from your employer…”

He watches you shrug, your chin disappearing behind your scarf as you do so, “I got a free coffee from it so it’s no biggie,” you emphasise the statement by taking a sip of your drink all while squinting your eyes up at him mischievously. 

James laughs, his breath materialising in the cold air as puffs of smoke, “you look like a little mouse!” The comment earns him a playful slap on the shoulder and, if it weren’t for his sharp reflexes, he'd have spilled his drink on the floor. He looks at you with playfully narrowed eyes to see that you’re pulling a guilty ‘I didn’t mean to do that’ face. For a moment, the two of you hold tense eye contact over what could’ve happened before erupting into peels of laughter. 

It was an unexpected friendship but one that blossomed nonetheless. 

With time, it was only natural for you to introduce James and Remus to one another, both being two amazing men in your life. And the meeting couldn’t have gone any more perfectly, they became friends as naturally as you and James did, which you couldn’t be happier about. In return, James introduced you to Sirius, his brother, not by blood, but his brother still. You’ve heard the story already, the vicious media always seemed to know everything, but it felt like an entirely different tale coming from James and Sirius themselves. Especially Sirius; your heart ached for him. It was clear, from the look in your eyes, that your heart broke for James’s pale-skinned, dark-haired, steel-eyed non-blood brother — and just when it seemed as though he couldn’t like you more. 

“She was very sweet,” Sirius smiles as James nods enthusiastically. The two had just waved you off when James turned to Sirius for his verdict. 

“Right?” James grins widely, “And she’s so easy to talk to,”

“Truly,” Sirius smiles and stuffs his hands into his pockets, “there wasn’t a single colour of judgement in her eyes the entire time we told her everything,” it was rare to find a person like that within their circles, “and she spoke with real sincerity too, she’s one of the good ones,” 

“You should meet Remus as well! I’ll ask for him to join the next time we can hang out together,”

When the time came for your two best friends to meet, Remus and Sirius hit it off well, better than you initially expected as they were quite opposite in aesthetics; Sirius in his leather jacket and tattoos, and Remus in his cable knit sweater and faded scars. However, you were still grateful that they came together like coffee and cake. After becoming close friends, the four of you met regularly and even organised weekend getaways as a group. However, over time, those outings have slowly divulged into Sirius and Remus splitting off from you and James. The two planning getaways as a pair, excluding you and James altogether. 

“I can’t believe this,” you playfully narrow your eyes at the two, who avoid your gaze to sip at their coffee from across the table. 

“Yeah! This started as a group thing, when did it become a pair thing?” James adds with a dramatic swing of his arms as you bite your lower lip to suppress a smirk. 

“More like a ‘couple’ thing~” your teasing comment was enough to get the two across the table to blush in embarrassment – caught red-handed in their carnal endeavours. They tried their best to hide it from you and James but they suppose they got reckless, lost in their passions. They were even audacious enough to flirt when attending the same soiree or gala, Sirius as a guest and Remus as a server of champagne and finger foods. 

“It’s not like you two are any better!” Sirius accuses with narrowed eyes and pointed an inculpatory finger between you two, “Don’t think we don’t know that you’re also going on ‘couple’ getaways with each other!” he huffs and, this time, it was yours and James’ turn to become bashful. 

“Th-that’s—” Remus cuts you off with a smug smile. 

“It’s not worth fighting, dove,” your best friend warns, finally draping his arm across Sirius’ shoulders, who immediately leans into his touch, “we’ve known for a while too,” 

Your mouth hangs open as your brain staggers to come up with an excuse. But you’re unable to even attempt to object when James sighs and drapes his arm across your shoulders too, turning his face to kiss your temple and whisper against your skin, “It’s best if we drop the act, angel,” 

You suppose you were trying to hide your relationship from the wrong people…

With a defeated smile, you shake your head and the four of you laugh at each other, relieved that you could finally stop pretending that there wasn’t anything more between you. But mostly happy that you’re all finding happiness in each other. 

James was familiar with the look on your face as soon as he stepped into your flat. You were stressed and on the bridge of a breakdown over whatever you were having to deal with. He knows you’re a hard worker but sometimes you put too much pressure on yourself. You’ve already explained your situation but he still cannot fathom how you were able to continue labouring two jobs whilst faithfully working on your budding entrepreneurship on the side. 

Today was supposed to be your day off and yet, James finds you in distress over your growing business. Despite his worry for your wellbeing, he can’t help but admire your perseverance and dedication. Your diligence is a hard trait to come by – it was something he also admired in Li-…

Shaking the thoughts out of his head, James slowly approaches you from the side. He took care not to startle you but you weren’t easily fooled.

“James, you really didn’t have to come,” you knew he had been there ever since he walked through the front door of your flat. In his chest, James’ heart clenched in rejection but he pushed forward with a bright grin. Was it going to be the same as Lily? Again?

“I know but…” he watches as you turn to face him and the bouquet he’s presenting to you in his hands, “I wanted to make sure you were okay and,” he isn’t brave enough to watch your expression, “flowers never hurt…”

“Oh Jamie!” you squeal in delight and James’ eyes snap open, shocked. The honeymoon phase should be over by now so… Weren’t you meant to sigh again and finally shoo him away? He watches as you take the flowers and set them on a nearby table before launching yourself into his arms, “that’s so sweet of you!” 

Letting out a relieved laugh, he returns your embrace and his smile finally reaches his eyes, “yeah? You like them?” he notes how you smell better than the flowers when he buries his face in your hair and takes in a long breath. 

“They’re beautiful! And so thoughtful,” You attack him with a barrage of kisses, peppering them all over his smiling face. He can’t believe it. 

“You really like them?” love swells up in his chest as he watches you nod enthusiastically. 

“I can’t believe you would do that for me just because I was upset,” 

“Of course, I had to,” he subtly puffs out his chest and leans down to kiss your cheek, “I have to make sure my girl is well taken care of,” 

You pout over how precious he’s being and kiss him sweetly, “You’re so good to me,”

With a blush on his cheeks, James continues, “I uh—... I also ordered your favourite takeout, I hope that’s okay?” you answer him with another kiss, this one firm and deep; one that you refuse to end prematurely. With a sigh of contentment, James surrenders himself and places his hands on your waist while he savours the feeling of your fingers in his hair, massaging his scalp at the back of his head. Your other hand grips at his shoulder and you’re slowly pushing him back into your sofa. 

So lost in the taste of your lips, James falls back with a silent gasp and watches in amazement as you climb on top of him, wasting no time in continuing with the heated kiss. Slowly his hands trail down from your waist and over the curve of your hips to squeeze at your plush thighs. He groans into the kiss as your softness fills his grip and he can’t get enough of fondling your fleshy thighs. He can’t get enough of you. 

All this over flowers and takeout? It wasn’t the disgruntled response he was used to. You didn’t reject his affections and support, you didn’t mistake them as a discredit to your hard work and efforts. Instead, you saw them for what they were, a manifestation of his love and support for you. 

He moans your name, the erotic whimper he produces, muffled against your locked lips. And, fuelled by a surge of desperate love and desire, he surges forward to deepen the kiss whilst keeping your lower half in place from where he grips your thighs.  

You return the sentiment with an airy, “James~” before your lips are recaptured and your hands grapple for his broad shoulders; they’ve become a reliable foundation for your balance as James takes the lead. He has successfully rid your thoughts of all manner of negativity and stress. He’s your own personal happy pill and you’re an addict ready to take everything he was willing to give and more. 

It wasn’t a conscious action, there was no real thought behind it but there was a coordinated effort on both sides that quickly led to you feverishly grinding down on him as his thick cock progressively hardened beneath you. Somewhere in between, the two of you pull apart and pant like laboured dogs with your eyes glued down to your, somewhat, connected sexes. 

“Shhh…” James hushes gently, an antithesis to his bruising grip over your left ass cheek, gently guiding your movements as his other hand grips your outer thigh, “Slow down sweetheart,” you want to obey his soft command but–

“You feel so good James~”

“You feel good too, baby but I want to enjoy you properly,” he reasons but you show no sign of stopping your wild grinding, “I said! Slow. Down.” he commands, suddenly releasing his grip and harshly slapping your ass instead, smiling when all movement stops. 

In your shocked state, he begins to guide you through slow, rocking motions, pressing your soaked centre against his hard cock through his loose sweatpants. Dressed casually in an oversized shirt and nothing else but underwear, James uses one hand to push your shirt up and reveal the most gloriously erotic sight he’s ever seen. The lips of your ruined, panty-covered pussy lips were moulded around the prominence of his hard cock — your cute pussy was kissing his cock. The salacious sight was enough to make the both of you moan aloud, completely disregarding the wet mess you were making on his sweats. 

“Oh God!” your cry was filthy as you leaned back, your hands on James’ thighs propping you up and supporting you from behind. 

“You’re so sexy, angel,” James grunts in pleasure, “look at how your pretty pussy lips are clinging onto me through your cute fuckin’ panties,” his words make you even more breathless as a dull pulse starts to resonate from your lower belly. It was a familiar sensation and one that you desperately needed to quench. 

“James,” you call, desperation clear in your voice and a sultry look in your eyes as James looks up at you, “James, more~” James smirks and obscene words begin to form on his tongue when—

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

You both snapped your attention to the disruption, tense and wondering who could be at the door, “...I think it’s the delivery guy…” James realises and releases a breath of relief as you’re consumed by giggles. The carnal tension in the air dissipates as you crawl off James’ lap so that he can answer the door, partially hiding his lower half, “Sorry about that,” he laughs under his breath weakly and holds up the takeout bag with an embarrassed smile. It astounds you how quickly he can go from having the filthiest mouth to wearing the most endearing expression you’ve ever seen. It was as if the cause for the high tension between you never occurred and he was your sweet, loving boyfriend once again.

Taking his lead, you help set out some plates and cutlery. You even take the time to place your bouquet in a vase before sitting with him to have a well-deserved meal. It would be a good idea to finally relax and leave your work for another day; there’s no use trying to fix things when you aren’t in the right mindset. What you didn’t expect was a sudden kiss on your temple and a soft whisper to tickle your ear. 

“I promise to love you all the way soon enough, sweets,” James vows and smiles at the embarrassed look on your face but also at the soft smile you send his way, “I wanna make sure you’ve eaten well today,”

“Thank you, Jamie,” you kiss his cheek gratefully before returning to your food. The knot in your lower belly had subsided so you could relax a little easier. 

“You aren’t mad that I took you away from work, though, right?” there was a slight hint of insecurity in his voice. It was a tone that you weren’t familiar with from him and it made your head tilt in slight confusion. 

“Of course not…well, I was a little irritated at first,” you confess, wanting to be honest with him, “but that was just because I was already stressed out and felt like nothing would get better until I solved the problem but…” you slide closer to his side and lean into him with a relieved sigh, “this was what I really needed,”

“I’m glad…”

“Thank you so much James, you’re the sweetest boyfriend I could ever ask for,”

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” you don’t miss the beaming grin he gives you. You return one that’s just as bright. 

You gasp at your boyfriend’s grand but thoughtful surprise, the affection and gratefulness for his considerate gesture evident in your voice. Turning in your lover’s arms, you wrap your arms around his neck and press a kiss against his smiling lips, “You didn’t have to, darling…” There were tears in your eyes James quickly kisses away. He could tell that they were happy tears but he would take up any and every excuse to kiss you.  

The months you spent with James Potter were magical. He was not only the most loving and wonderful boyfriend you had ever had the pleasure of calling yours but also a great partner and advisor in your business endeavours. With his help, you have been able to shift your mindset to one of affluence and positivity. He assisted you with networking and setting up a functional, online business. Without his technical and emotional support, you don’t think you would have achieved half of what you have now. You couldn’t thank him enough; he had given you so much in terms of love and your career aspirations without asking for anything in return. You didn’t even have to ask him; he had fulfilled your two deepest desires with precise balance — to be cherished by your perfect match and to succeed in your own business.

“Of course I did,” he whispers in the most gentle tone, “you deserve it…”

James had seen you work to the bone as an aspiring entrepreneur. He taught you everything he had learned about the business world through his father, and you were more than eager to accept his help - an attitude that was a breath of fresh air. Not only were you a great student, diligently noting down his teachings and taking action immediately to put his methods into practice, but you were a great girlfriend too. You were there for him when he needed emotional support, offering kind words, a listening ear, and everything he could ask for. All he had to do was say the word, and you would do anything in your power to fulfil his request. He had never felt so sincerely loved and appreciated before, especially when you would take the time to invest in him. You weren’t rich like him and his family, but you were generous with your time and spent the majority of it on him every chance you could - perfect, you were perfect.

You’re nothing like Lily. Nothing about you two was the same…

Lily always strived for perfection in herself and in those around her, especially her partner (him at the time). It didn’t bother James much, he fully accepted her terms because she was worth it to him — she deserved only the best and that meant everything from within her environment to him as her boyfriend; everything had to be perfect. Inhumanly so. 

He changed himself for her, adopted new mannerisms for her, made sure everything was perfect for her, sacrificed for her, and did everything for her. He didn’t realise it at the time but he was losing himself and it took her hesitation at his proposal for him to finally realise that her desire for perfection was at a level that couldn’t be satisfied. He would never be good enough for her because her standards for everyone, everything and herself were just…impossible. 

Looking at you, James came to yet another realisation. 

He presses a kiss to your forehead and feels his heart grow lighter at the discovery. Throughout his entire relationship with Lily, she was insistent on being self-sufficient — a truly independent woman who didn’t need a man to fulfil her life goals. That was one of the many things that James admired about her but he could never fully rest comfortably when watching her solitary endeavours from afar. Every time he tried to offer a lending hand or word of advice, she ardently refused him, sometimes even flushing red with anger at his simple suggestions. He knew he could help with her goals but she didn’t want anything from him. She wanted to stand alone and be strong. That was admirable but they were a couple and James wanted to be of help to her, it was his way of showing he loved her dearly but she actively refused that, shutting him down every single time. 

It didn’t make him feel good. It felt as though his love wasn’t enough for her, that what he was doing wasn’t good enough. That he wasn’t good enough.

It was never a good feeling…

Now he could fully put into words why he never felt truly content around Lily; she was so insistent on being independent that she pushed him away, pushed away his love for her, his desire to help her and his want to see her succeed, to see her happy. 

She never let him. 

But you did. 

You accepted his love in all its forms, in his light-hearted jokes, his lending hand, his words of wisdom (passed down from his father), his support, his encouraging smiles, and more. His flaws, his vices, his strengths, you accepted all of him, you loved all of him, and he feels his heart swell with deepening affection for you every passing day.

James watches with overflowing fondness as you explore the space he had bought and set up for you; your online brand is steadily growing, thanks to your hard work. Judging from the upward trajectory of sales, you urgently need to upscale everything. Your birthday provides a perfect excuse to give you a head start on that expansion, no strings attached. He can hear your excited murmurs bouncing off the walls, discussing your plans as you envision filling a portion of the space with your workshop, while the remainder goes towards storing your many creations.

So lost in his admiration of you and the satisfaction of his current life standing, James almost topples over when you go running back to him. With a joyful squeal, you leap into his arms and almost send him tumbling back into a wall if it weren’t for his fast reflexes.

"Oh, honey~" James sighs dreamily at being called with such affection. "I love it!" you squeal, your eyes filling with happy tears and turning them into beautiful glass. He could stare into your stunning eyes forever, but the passionate kiss you press onto his lips was admittedly a better pastime. "I love you~" you coo after finally pulling away, still wrapped tightly in his arms.

“That’s all I could ever ask for, sweetheart!” he chuckles against your lips before engaging in another loving kiss. 

“You’ve worked so hard~,” James coos, his praise travelling into your ear as you gaze out at the main workshop and storage area. He compels you to look out at your employees; some were working diligently, moving in and out of storage, while others weaved through the machines in your workshop. “That’s all yours, baby~,” he breathes against your neck and sucks on the sensitive skin. “You deserve all of that. I’m so proud of you for making your dreams come true,”

“Th-thank–” you couldn’t speak, it was impossible to with James’ fingers invading the entrance of your pussy and curling deliciously into your most sensitive spots. Your vision blurs with tears of ecstasy and it feels like you’re choking even though James’ spare arm wraps firmly around your middle to keep you in place. Desperate for air, you push your head back and rest against his shoulder, pathetically gasping for oxygen but it’s no use when the rhythm of his pumping fingers gives you no time or room to breathe. It was a blissful torture, however. A type of aching pleasure only James can expertly guide you through. 

"You don’t have to say anything, my love," James whispers against the skin of your neck, sucking on the sensitive area beneath your ear before speaking further. "I already know what you want to say," his breath against your bitten ear sends a shiver down your spine and tightens your skin defensively, making you extra sensitive to his touch. "Just don’t stop moaning for me. I want to, at least, hear how well I’m treating you. Aren’t I treating you well, beautiful girl?" he urges, curling his fingers just right to pull an embarrassingly loud moan past your lips. "That’s it. Fuck! You sound so good, baby~"

This didn’t come out of nowhere. James was a passionate person, but he knew where and when it was appropriate to engage in heated activities like this. He loves nothing more than to mould you into a writhing, moaning mess of pleasure. You can tell by the look in his eyes that he gets high off of seeing you reach your peak and knowing that it was all because of him. Typically, he wouldn’t make you come undone in such a public place where you two can easily get caught but your office door was firmly locked, and you were a floor above the staff below so, even though you could easily see them, it would be difficult for them to see you. The main reason James felt the need to stand you in front of your observation window, pull the skirt of your dress up and plunge his long, thick fingers inside you was that you had grown insecure about the stagnation of your business progress.

Just a moment ago, you were on the verge of tears from the stress and self-doubt, divulging your worries to James as you always did in your most vulnerable times. But now you’re crying tears of pleasure and being talked through his perspective of your progress as you stare down at the facility you had built up to. 

He wanted to make you feel better. Stagnation was normal. The launch was so successful that the slowing of development appeared too drastic of a change. You needed to look at things from a different perspective and what better way to achieve that than to whisper of that altered standpoint with his fingers driving in and out of your pussy, soaked down to his wrist with your sticky arousal. Naturally, James made sure to weave in a healthy dose of praise in between his insistent assurance of your progress. 

You feel your lower belly tense as you gaze at the obscene image of his veiny arm moving up and down, hidden under your dress skirt. His arms were thick, like his fingers, and veiny too. You can almost see the veins in his arms pulsating as they work laboriously to guide you towards a gratifying climax. Every aspect of James was bulky, veiny, and moved in a highly sensual manner. It was only when James took a moment to press the pad of his thumb against your throbbing clit and make a full circular motion that you finally saw stars. You have no recollection of screaming, but James needed to raise his hand to cover your mouth and draw both of you away from the viewing window. That was confirmation enough that you were indeed letting out cries of pleasure.

“Good job, baby,” James coos beside your ear as you lean against him limply. If it weren’t for his hard and strong frame, you would have collapsed to the floor, “My beautiful girl cum so well for me,” his words make your abused pussy pulse, begging for more despite your exhausted state. This man was something else… 

Beside your ear, James brings your fingers to his mouth and takes his sweet time slurping and sucking up every last drop of your pleasure from his soaked fingers. He even goes so far as to trail his tongue down to his wrist, tracing the trail of sweet nectar that managed to leak down his hand. 

“J-Jamie…” you moan breathlessly, reaching up to caress his cheek and shyly finger his inky locks 

“You’ve come so far, my love. All of that hard work has brought you here. Don’t let the deceleration lead to hitting the brakes fully,” he’s so sweet, still trying to comfort you after such a salacious exchange, restraining you with his solid frame, not giving you a chance to protest before he’s relentlessly pistoning his fingers into you and only stopping when he can swallow every drop of your cum from his fingers as you lean against him for support.

Your sweet, loving James… What will you do without him? 

"I love you…" You bring his lips to yours and play with his tongue, moaning at the exchange of your taste from his mouth to yours. With his lips against your own, he lovingly whispers the sentiment in return.

“Don’t you taste divine?” he purrs, nuzzling your cheek when he pulls away with a devious grin on his lips. Licking your lips, you return his grin. He’s always right…

A year and some months into your relationship with James, you were finally meeting his parents. Both were very busy people, so you understood the lateness. It would be during their yearly summer getaway to their private island in the Bahamas, a luxurious vacation that you could only dream of affording despite your growing business ventures. You arrived early with James and Sirius, who took their boat out to dock at the island. Sirius went back to wait for James’ parents and voyage them to the island as well, giving you and James enough time to get ready for the introductory dinner tonight. 

The small, trusted group of staff welcomed you to the island and helped you and James with your luggage. They informed you that dinner preparations were underway and that it would be around an hour before you could head to the dining room if you wanted to. With a thank you, James dismissed the staff and, together, you unpacked some of your luggage and went about getting ready for the introductory dinner tonight. The log cabin was huge and had several rooms, all of them extravagant and yours was equipped with a small balcony and an incredible view. You wanted to savour more of the space but dinner was fast approaching and you needed to get ready. The entire look you had planned tonight – from the dress to your make-up and heels – was planned and you were ecstatic to put it on. Fashion was one of your many interests and now that you could afford more stylish clothes, you were eager to impress. 

Freshly out of the shower and sitting at your vanity, you find that James’ eyes can’t stop glancing at you. His hands seem restless and he can’t decide which shirt to wear. He’s anxious about something, that was clear, and you think you know what it may be. Nevertheless, you gently prompt him for a simple, straightforward answer. 

"You're still getting started with that new launch in your business, and I don't want to make you lose momentum," James excused with a sheepish expression, worry swimming deeply within his hazel pools. He had been hesitant to invite you to meet his parents that summer with the excuse of prioritising your business and mental wellbeing. 

James can easily tell how stressed you’ve been lately. Trying to push for the upcoming launch, you held a healthy level of anxiety but there was something in his demeanour that made you believe there was a deeper reason for his anxiety. It was easy to guess. James had been honest about the way Lily treated him, making him and his affection feel like an inconvenience. Her productivity and work had been her top priority. And, although that wasn’t a bad thing, in her efforts, she had deeply hurt James. It was to the point where he still hesitates if he feels as though he’s intruding on your business affairs. All you could do for him was be assuring and loving. Bit by bit, he’s become less anxious but the habit isn’t fully gone yet.  

"Lose momentum? From meeting your parents?" With a light-hearted chuckle, you place a comforting hand against his cheek and meet his worried gaze with love and reassurance. "James, there’s no way you and your family could ever derail me like that; you were the ones who put me on the tracks in the first place." You share a brief laugh. "And besides, from everything you’ve told me, I know how important they are to you; it would mean the world to finally meet them." He leans into your touch and kisses your palm, muttering his gratitude into your soft skin before you pull away to do a spin, showcasing your attire for the evening. "So, what’s the verdict?"

James laughs and leans forward as he brings your knuckles to his lips. “You always know how to dress beautifully, my love,” you smile brightly. “You look simply ravishing.” A dark look comes over James' eyes and sends a bolt of arousal through you.

Your relationship had been very slow-moving with intimacy. Yes, there have been some grinding and mischievous fingers but never quite all the way. It was primarily because of James’s feelings concerning Lily, his red-headed, emerald-eyed ex-girlfriend. The relationship had torn him down more than he was willing to admit, and it broke your heart to think that someone who was supposed to love him would treat him so poorly. At times, he was a tease and almost slipped too far but reared back as soon as there was a moment of clarity. It’s a past that haunts him for someone who loves with his whole being. 

He’s so thankful for you, though; you have allowed him his space and waited patiently. It was easy enough. You had been hard at work launching your business and its subsequent improved products, progressing forward whilst James was slowly easing into taking over his father’s commerce empire; you were both relatively busy with things besides each other.

You like to think that you have a good balance between intimacy with each other and work, though you are beginning to ache for more than just his fingers and thighs. The idea of reaching that final point ignited a strong desire within you, shooting a thrill through your nerves. It was a torment to which you had grown accustomed. The images of everything you had allowed James to do to you haunted your mind as his teasing voice whispered in your ear– 

You quickly pushed aside those thoughts; tonight you were having a civilised dinner with his parents.

“Then let’s hurry,” you grab your complimentary handbag and loop your arm through his as you move to the dining area together.

୨୧  ୨୧  ୨୧

You smooth down the front of your dress for the third time, your fingers lingering on the soft fabric. You’d spent hours deciding what to wear—carefully choosing something elegant but understated. After all, this would be your first time meeting James’ parents and you didn’t want to shamefully overshadow the Potter family matriarch, Euphemia Potter. James expressed that you had nothing to worry about as his parents always prioritised his happiness in spite of societal expectations. Nevertheless, you wanted the couple’s approval, knowing that James’ family meant the world to him.

When you and James step down the expansive log cabin’s grand staircase and enter the dining room, you’re immediately greeted by Fleamont, James’ father. His warm smile reaches his eyes, and the tension in your shoulders eases just a little. "Ah, James!” the two share a hug that all men typically default to exchanging, however, James keeps his hand on your hip the entire time – he’s worried about not making you feel left out, ever the sweetheart. “And you must be the lovely lady we’ve heard so much about," Fleamont says kindly, his hand outstretched in warm welcome and you introduce yourself. You offer a genuine smile, relieved by his amiable reception. 

But before you can fully relax, you notice Euphemia standing just a few steps behind her husband. Her sharp gaze sweeps over you like she’s assessing every inch of your appearance, and you instinctively shift under her scrutiny. Her coldness was such a contrast to Fleamont’s earnest air that you quickly froze up under her scrutiny, a wave of goosebumps flushing over your exposed arms as frostbite shoots down your spine, stiffening your posture uncomfortably. 

“Well,” Euphemia starts, her voice cool but laced with an almost imperceptible edge, “you certainly…tried. I suppose there’s something to be said for effort but I suppose my expectations of your understanding of how to dress was much too high,” Her eyes linger on the neckline of your dress, and suddenly, it feels like you’re wearing a burlap sack instead of the stylish gown you’d ceaselessly agonized over.

You feel your heart drop, your confident walls collapsing to the floor and allowing insecurity to creep in. It’s like a storm cloud blotting out the sun, its opaque body not allowing a single ray to pass through. 

“Mother please!” James can’t believe his mother’s hostile demeanour. She was never like this with Lily and you’re a far more perfect match to him than she ever will. Fleamont takes charge before a heated quarrel breaks out, reminding everyone of the dinner prepared by the staff and Sirius who awaited them in the dining room.

What was once a confident smile now feels plastered on, your posture becoming rigid as you follow James and his parents to the dining room, where you find Sirius already seated at the table. Euphemia's judging voice echoes in your head, her disapproval poisoning your once optimistic thoughts, the stain of self-doubt spreading rapidly. 

Sirius stands from his seat and greets you and James with a warm hug. He can immediately sense the shift in your demeanour and bites back a frown. Through his relationship with Remus, he’s become incredibly fond of you and has seen the positive impact you’ve had on James – his brother in all but blood. Without you, Sirius can’t fathom where James would be at this point in time; Lily’s constant rejection of his devotion and breaking down of his identity had James feeling lost for a very long time, longer than it should have been. Sirius hated seeing James like that. But then you came along and, just like magic, James was back to his old self again. You happily accept his affection and appreciate him as a whole. It was only natural that James had grown addicted to you and was already speaking of marriage despite not being with you as long as he had been with Lily. 

On the boat ride here, Euphemia had made it clear how she saw you as another Lily Evans and her fear of losing her beloved son was making her act out harshly. Sirius had tried defending your honour but it was like talking to a brick wall. Fleamont was eager to see the girl that had brought his son joy again but Euphemia wasn’t so eager. He should have talked to James about this before you came down for dinner. 

“The food’s all ready and I’m starved. Let’s eat!” Sirius cheers, keen on diverting everyone’s attention and centralising their focus just to keep a momentary peace. However, a mother’s love, especially when turned toxic, is hard to quell. 

Throughout dinner, Euphemia’s comments continue, each one a little more pointed than the last. “It must be hard… trying to keep up with James' lifestyle. I imagine it’s quite the leap from what you’re used to.”

You swallow hard and force a polite smile, your appetite is completely gone so you don’t understand how you’re able to continue eating, “I’m managing well, thank you,” you try to keep your voice even and neutral, keeping a strong front but the words don’t come out as confidently as you’d hoped. 

James stiffens at your side, his jaw clenching into a sharp square as heated frustration builds within him, strong enough that you can feel the heat radiating from his skin. He turns toward his mother, his teeth bared and his tongue ready to lash out. The woman sitting beside his father was not his mother. He only ever knew his mother to be kind and understanding and warm, not this! The wretched imposter had no right to speak to you so harshly, not on his watch. However, before he could utter a single syllable, you had reached out to gently touch his knee beneath the table. “It’s fine, love,” you whisper gently despite your painfully aching heart. “It’s not worth making a scene. Not here.”

James looks at you, his apology written into his handsome features, and leans in to whisper, "I'm sorry. I don’t know why she’s acting like this. She… she’ll come around, I promise."

You offer a soft smile, but it feels like a lie. Because every word Euphemia throws at you chips away at your resolve and makes you feel smaller. The more time stretches on, the less worthy you feel of your place at this table, less worthy of being the woman who stands beside James Potter. Across the table, Fleamont and Sirius exchange uncomfortable glances, clearly aware of the tension but unsure of how to intervene. Sirius shifts in his seat, looking like he wants to say something but thinking better of it. You can see the sympathy in their eyes, but it’s not enough to drown out Euphemia’s judgment.

“James has always had such high standards,” Euphemia continues, her tone cutting. “It’s just… surprising to see him settle for someone so… ambitious but inexperienced.”

That’s the last straw. You feel the air tighten in your lungs, and before you know it, the sound of your chair scraping back cuts through the tense atmosphere. “Please excuse me,” you mutter, blinking away the sting of tears as you turn to walk away. 

This was too much… 

You don’t belong here. 

You don’t belong with James. 

She’s right. 

You need to leave 

“Wait—” James reaches for your hand, but you pull away, shaking your head. You can’t stay here a second longer. Not when every part of you feels raw, exposed, and judged for the things you can’t control. You don’t even remember how you make it back to your shared room but the next thing you know, you’re frantically packing your belongings with trembling hands. It makes the tasks so much harder to execute but you push through. Even when the tears begin to pour down your face and your vision blurs, you’re determined to escape this claustrophobic place despite your love being at the heart of it all. You don’t want to leave, you don’t want to hurt James, but you can’t take another moment being under Euphemia’s critical gaze. It feels too much like drowning. James is air but you don’t have the right to have him anymore… This is for the best.

Getting off this island was your only concern now. Outside, the sky has darkened, matching the tempest of emotions swirling inside you. It was thankful that you managed to slip out of the log cabin without James catching you; you definitely would have caved in if he did. You would have been convinced to stay just by looking into his eyes. Your resolve is still too weak right now. Getting away will help harden your decision – it’ll be for James’ sake so you have to hurry away quickly. The storm begins to rage as you make it down the path to the docks. The rain pelts down in sheets and soaks you through completely, but you don’t care. You just need to get away. Far away from the crushing weight of Euphemia’s disapproval and James, sweet, loving, handsome James who was no longer yours.

୨୧ ୨୧ ୨୧

Just as you hurry away,  James launches out of his seat and, storms to the other side of the dining room where Euphemia sits, unbothered. “What the hell was that?!” he demands, his voice trembling with an anger that is strong enough to make his limbs shake as well.

“James,” she starts, but he doesn’t let her finish. His question was rhetorical; how dare she even try to put into words what she had done to you?! 

“No, you don’t get to do this. Why were you so nasty towards her?! She didn’t do anything to deserve such treatment! You weren’t like this when I introduced Lily to you!”

“And look where that got you!” Euphemia defends, “For over a year, you no longer felt like my son! You were gone! Lost! I wasn’t going to let another ambitious girl treat you horribly only to leave once she was done with you, again!”

“She’s nothing like Lily!” James’ voice rises and Sirius flinches slightly at the volume; he’s never seen James this infuriated before. He didn’t even know he was capable of expressing fury quite like this, “She’s not going to leave me like Lily did. She’s different! She makes me happy, isn’t that what you’ve always wanted for me? Everything I’ve ever wanted in a woman, I see it in her. She can’t even compare to Lily! Lily is nothing to her! She’s better! She’s perfect.”

Euphemia's eyes widen ever so slightly, her face pale as the realisation hits. She thought she was protecting him—protecting him from another devastating heartbreak like the one Lily had left him with. But all she’s done is drive away the one person who makes her son happy. She doesn’t know what to say and stammers in her inability to come up with the right words, guilt slowly spreading across her features.

James can’t bring himself to continue looking at his mother and turns on his heel. “I need to talk to her…”

୨୧ ୨୧ ୨୧

You walk through the storm, barely able to see more than a few feet in front of you as the wind lashes your soaked clothes against your skin. The path is rough, and the rain feels relentless, stinging your face as it mixes with the tears you’ve been holding back. You just keep walking, unsure of where you’re going—only knowing you need to get away.

After what feels like hours of battling against the wind and rain, you spot something through the haze. Squinting through the downpour, you make out the shape of a small cabin perched near the rocky coastline. It looks old, weathered by the elements, but right now, it’s your only refuge. You make a dash for it, slipping slightly on the wet ground, but you manage to reach the door. It creaks open with some effort, and you step inside, trembling and soaked to the bone.

The cabin is small and bare, but at least it's dry. You find a few old blankets and wrap yourself in them, shivering as you curl up in a corner, trying to ignore the cold that seeps into your bones. As the storm rages outside, your mind spins with thoughts of the night—of Euphemia’s judgmental eyes, of James’ helplessness, of the fact that you left him behind.

You feel guilty for running, but you can’t stay. Not when it felt like every breath you took at that dinner table was judged.

୨୧ ୨୧ ୨୧

James is beside himself with worry, you’re not in the room. You’re not in the conservatory, you’re not in the bathroom, you’re not in the kitchen, you’re not in the wine cellar, you’re not in the game’s room, you're not in the back garden area – you’re nowhere! At that point, he had no choice but to go outside in search of you. He and Sirius had searched everywhere they could before the storm became too dangerous but still, nothing. The rain was falling too hard, the wind too fierce. 

Eventually, they had no choice but to call off the search until morning, though James had fought it every step of the way. Something broke inside him at the thought that you were outside on your own and in such a vicious storm too. You couldn’t have possibly thought that it was a good idea to power the boat and ride back to the mainland on your own with the storm, did you? Sirius had taught you the basics of stirring and handling the boat on the ride here but that it wasn’t extensive and only for beginners, you couldn’t have picked anything up after that one lesson! And it’s too dangerous with the weather! 

Now, he paces restlessly in front of the fireplace, the storm outside roaring as fiercely as the panic in his chest and the anxious thoughts in his head. Sirius sits nearby, quiet but equally concerned, casting glances at his best friend-turned-brother – he should have done more. Fleamont is in the corner, speaking in low tones with the small selection of staff, while Euphemia stands at the window, staring into the storm with a hollow look on her face.

“She’s out there because of you,” James snaps suddenly, his voice cutting through the tense silence. Euphemia flinches but says nothing. He’s right, after all. Everything she did, every biting word and critical glance she threw at you, had driven you away.

“James…” Sirius starts, trying to calm him down, but James shakes his head.

“I can’t believe this is happening.” He scrubs a hand over his face, eyes dark with worry and breath shallow with fear. “What if she’s hurt? What if she—” His voice breaks off, and Sirius stands to grip his shoulder, offering comfort and reassurance, a lifeline to solid ground as he tries to traverse the assaulting sea of apprehension he was drowning in.

“She’ll be fine,” Sirius says, his voice steady even though worry is also etched into his features. “We’ll find her in the morning.”

But morning feels like a lifetime away. All James can think about is you out there, alone and possibly scared, with no idea if you’ve found shelter or if you’ve been swept up by the viscous sea lapping at the island’s sandy perimeter. He doesn’t sleep that night, his eyes fixed on the window from his perch on the bed, watching the storm that keeps him from searching for you.

Euphemia lingers at the doorway, guilt weighing heavily on her and showing on her countenance. She didn’t mean for things to go this far. All she ever wanted was to protect her son, to keep him from getting hurt again. But now, seeing him like this—broken and desperate—it’s clear that she’s the one who’s hurt him. And she’s hurt you in the process. She wasn’t being strong for her son, she was the weakest she had ever been that night by allowing her biases to control her actions. Ashamed, she silently leaves and finds solace in her husband’s arms as guilty tears prick her eyes. 

As the night drags on, James barely moves from his spot. He doesn’t eat, doesn’t speak, doesn’t move an inch. He just waits, heart pounding in his ears, almost louder than the storm as he prays for your safety. 

In a small, secluded cabin, you curl up tighter under the blankets and listen to the storm batter the walls outside. It’s terrifying being out here alone, but the thought of going back to James and his judging mother feels just as frightening. Thankfully you happened upon this small, isolated shelter through the storm. It was a miracle. It felt as though the vicious winds were after you, ready to push you into the ferocious and hungry ocean, vulnerable to its harsh waters. It had been successful in sweeping away your packed luggage when you saw an oddness in the trees lining the edge of the path down to the docking area. 

The was fitted with all the amenities and with a wardrobe full of musty but clean clothes so you easily clean up and change into a man’s white button-up before collapsing on the sofa in front of the fireplace that your limbs were too heavy to light. 

You close your eyes, trying to block out everything but the sound of the rain, hoping sleep will come. Thankfully, the living room was much quieter because the bedrooms on either side buffered the harsh sounds. But, like James, you find no rest that night, haunted by the events of the evening and the storm that rages on. At least the distance has given you adequate time to think. Euphemia was right; you were being selfish by staying with James. He deserved someone better, someone worthy enough to, at least, have his mother’s approval. Your business wasn’t even that spectacular when compared to the empire his father had built. 

Even though it breaks your heart, today will mark the end of your relationship with James. You’re doing this for his sake. It’s for his betterment.  

୨୧ ୨୧ ୨୧

James doesn’t sleep a single wink. He keeps a close eye on the window, observing the storm as it throws about the trees and ocean outside. His heart thunders in his chest deafeningly, trying to entice him into stepping outside by masking the real storm beyond the log cabin and making it seem less dangerous. It took everything in him to resist — he isn’t any use to you if he gets swept up by the storm. 

Time crawls by agonisingly slow, it’s a miserable torture that has James entertaining his internal battles in an attempt to make time move faster. It isn’t until two in the morning that James wills himself into action. He reaches for the high-power torch he had used in the earlier search for you. The storm was finally settled enough for him to go searching through without risking his safety. It’s safe enough right now and he wasn’t about to wait around until morning to know if you’re safe or not. 

James was in such a hurry that he didn’t bother putting on a raincoat, he didn’t care that his shirt was immediately soaked through the instant he stepped outside and began searching for you. Following the path down to the docking area, he catches a glimpse of the docked boat battling against the raging waves under the light of his torch. The violent movement of the waves and the thrashing boat makes the breath in James’ throat turn icy and still. Were you on the boat? He hopes to god you’re not… Just the idea of you being in any kind of danger makes him want to set the world ablaze. Anything! He’ll do anything to make sure you’re safe. 

Caught up in the storm of his anxieties and trepidation, he almost misses the sight of your rich, brown luggage as its battered shape lays against a familiar tree. Stepping forward, James is filled with memories of a small cabin by the coast but safely behind the tree line that he and Sirius occupied every summer, away from his parents at the larger log cabin. Every day they would wake up and take a swim just as the sun was rising before hopping on their jet skis and racing against each other around the island’s coastline. It was a haven for him and Sirius on their yearly summer excursions, filled with happy memories and shared laughter. James looks down the beaten path with hope filtering into his eyes. He takes one step forward then another and another, more, until he’s sprinting down the path, through the trees and towards a familiar log cabin built for two. 

Please be inside!

୨୧ ୨୧ ୨୧

You wake up with a start to see the room drenched in a warm glow, the sight immediately making you stand from the sofa you had fallen asleep on. You didn’t light the fireplace last night… you were too exhausted to. It was thanks to the heat of the fire that you no longer needed to be bundled up in the blanket despite only wearing a white button-up and your panties. At the very least, your arms were free to move about without restrictions if you needed to fight back an intruder. 

“Love,” a familiar, warm voice calls in a whisper beside you. 

“James!” you gasp in shock when you see him standing before you, coming out of the bedroom shirtless with one of the spare shirts from the wardrobe in his hand and wet hair. Did he try finding you in the storm? The thought warmed your heart but your firm decision to leave him frosted over all warmth, leaving your chest hollow. Just as quickly as James saw your beautiful smile pull at your lips, your expression was disciplined into something cold and neutral. 

“I’m so glad you’re safe—” he tries to approach you with open arms and a relieved smile but you back away quickly, your hands pushed out as if to push him away. 

“No!”

“...No?”

“You shouldn’t be here, James. You shouldn’t have come looking for me!”

“And why not?” a familiar feeling comes creeping into James’ anxiously beating heart. He knows this suffocating atmosphere, he knows it too well. But that was only around Lily… never you. He loves you to the ends of the earth and he knows you love him just as much in return. Is that why the realisation hurts him more than it has ever hurt him with Lily? 

“It’s not safe out in the storm–”

“I had to look for you! I was so scared that you were in some kind of danger and needed help!” 

“WeShouldn’tBeTogetherAnymore!” you don’t meet his eyes despite shouting with such conviction. You don’t think you could have said it any other way. Blurting out the words frantically was easier than saying every syllable clearly. 

James doesn’t know what to say. At that moment, it hurt too much to look at him so you don’t see the way his face grew cold and his eyes became consumed by a darkness that wasn’t characteristic of him, “Your mother’s right… we don’t belong together.” 

The world spirals around James. This can’t be happening. You weren’t Lily. You can’t break his heart like this – you aren’t the type. You promised to be his forever and he promised to forever be with you— was there someone else? This can’t just be because of his mother! You’re his perfect match, there’s no way you would deny that, you always said you love him back. This is all a lie. James isn’t going to accept this!

“You don’t mean that, love,” James coos gently, not wanting to believe your words himself and approaches steadily like a crawling predator waiting to strike. 

“Y-yes I do!” You see his slow approach and try to maintain the distance between you but you can only move back so far before you’re pressed up against the wall. Seeing the opportunity, James raises arms and presses his palms on the wall beside your head, trapping you in place. Despite the proximity, you don’t meet his eyes.

“We don’t belong together…you deserve someone better. I can’t be with you anymore, we’re not a good match,” you sniffle and James resists the urge to kiss your tears away. Beside your head, his hands clench into fists against the wooden walls.

“Say it to my face then, look into my eyes and tell me you don’t love me anymore — that you don’t want me anymore,”

“James…” You muster up the courage but your voice still comes out, somewhat, shaky, “I-I don’t want to be with you anymore,” his expression remains steely and cold, the fierce glint of resolve in his eyes, unrelenting, “I don’t love you anymore…” 

“I don’t, at least, make you feel good?”

“No.”

He doesn’t respond, instead, he keeps you pressed against the wall and manoeuvres his face to rest beside your ear, his husky voice weakening your knees “Are you sure about that?” he snakes his hands around your waist to press his fingers into your lower back. Under his touch, you suppress a whimper of relief as his massaging motions ease some strain in your back. 

“James, stop it,” you huff, trying to push him away but you barely find the strength in yourself to shove him off with force. The love you have for him still lingers inside you, burrowed deep in your heart with no intent of leaving despite your earlier resolution. 

“No,” his fingers continue to massage your lower back as his lips begin to press a trail of kisses down your neck, “I don’t believe you,” he insists, “I can see it in your eyes,” he bares his teeth against the junction of your neck and shoulder, and draws a squeal from your parted lips, “You love me! You never stopped! And I’m the only one who can make you feel good!”

“No!”

“‘No’, you never stopped? ‘No’ no one makes you feel as good as me?” you can feel his naked chest pressing down against yours through the thin button-up, vibrating as he chuckles darkly. His hands start roaming your body, teasingly brushing against the sides of your breasts and tracing the curves of your silhouette. He loves your body. You’re the most beautiful woman he has ever had the honour of touching and kissing — his treasure. 

“Nooo!” you whine once more, not giving him a straight answer and succumbing to his familiar, fondling hands. He loves that you’re wearing his old shirt; not only do you look delectable in it but a surge of possessiveness washes over him at how small you appear. And the fact that you were allowing him to fondle you with your soft skin, pouty lips and pretty, tearful eyes, turns him on so much. 

Everything about you was a turn-on for him. James doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard before, it was almost painful still being in the confines of his trousers. But he wouldn’t dare waste time on frivolous things like that, hearing your soft, gasps and delicate moans spur him on to continue pulling moan after moan from your sweet lips. Lips that he had been neglecting to kiss and immediately moved up to capture in a heated tango.  

Time blurs along with the scene around you, all your mind can seem to comprehend is James’ weight pressing your back against the wall as his caressing hands map a dangerous path along your skin, getting closer and closer to your intimate areas — your nipples were already hard as rocks, attempting to poke through his thin button up as your panties were practically soaked through by your arousal. 

Your resolve to keep your distance and do what was best for him was close to gone, wiped from all areas of your mind so that the only thing left was a growing want for pleasure. A pleasure that only James could give. Mind numb, you had no strength to do anything except whimper and moan against his broad shoulder until he suddenly cups your right breast and uses his pointer finger to play with your hardened nipple through the fabric. 

“J-James!” you gasp, pulling away from his lips and ignoring the string of saliva connecting your lips to press against his shoulder with your shaking palms. Your resolve returns and the tug of war between your desires and reluctant refusal of his touch continues, “Ahhhh~ stop it~” he doesn’t stop, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t, “please…” you beg pathetically, the tone of your voice unclear. His hands, his lips and his touch were making you feel hot, and the beginning of a tight knot was forming in the depths of your lower abdomen — it was becoming harder and harder to resist him.  

While you’re distracted by the hand he has fondling your breast, James creeps his other hand up your inner thigh and edges your panties aside with a finger. He can see the realisation in your eyes when his finger brushes shyly against your clit. But he gives you no time to react and plunges his two fingers into your heat without warning. It was an easy entrance because you were so wet and hot and eager. And as James groans at the thought of his cock replacing his fingers inside you, his feverish probing against your inner walls shatters the last remaining strength in your knees. 

Your upper teeth bite down on your bottom lip, trapping the moans in your throat and keeping them from spilling. However, just as James pushes his fingers inside you, he’s pulling them out again. Soaked all the way down to his knuckles. He raises his two fingers to his lips and sucks them clean of your juices with a resounding groan as if he’s sampled the most flavourful dish he’s ever had. 

“Your mouth likes to lie, it’s great at lying apparently,” he snarls, the accusation and harsh tone making you whimper and your heart sinks from guilt. As always, he can see right through you. You don’t really want to leave James, he’s been the perfect boyfriend and you want to be with him forever… “so I’ll only trust what your pretty pussy lips have to say instead…” he licks his lips and stares into your eyes darkly, but rather than feel fear at his unusually impious stare, an arousing thrill flourishes in your stomach and raises the goosebumps on your upper arms, “it doesn’t taste like you don’t love me anymore,” a devilish grin stretches across his lips, his eyes never leaving yours, “you taste like you finally want me to love you all the way,” 

“No, I don’t,” your retaliating statement comes too firmly and too quickly for James to not heat up in anger. Where had your previous meekness and slow build-up to acceptance gone? It can’t just vanish; it’s still there…somewhere, he just needs to coax it out of you again!

With a rumbling growl from the back of his throat, he lifts you to hang off his shoulder without any care and takes a handful of long strides to his designated bedroom at the small cabin. He kneels down before throwing you onto the bed so that you fall back with just enough force and care to know that, despite his anger, he still loves you deeply. 

The strength behind his action leaves you shocked and vulnerable for a few moments but that’s all James needs. Gripping your thighs, he hoists your lower half up and rests the back of your upper thighs on his shoulders so he could devour your pussy shamelessly. 

Crying aloud, you arch your back and thrash against him. Your hands grip his soft, untamed curls and delude yourself into believing that you are actively resisting him, trying to push away his head from in between your thighs. However, in the position James has—lifted high with your abdomen pressed down by a hand and securing your lower back against his chest—it’s too difficult for you to push him away. You’re at his complete mercy. He kneels on the bed with his chin tucked into his collar, plunging his tongue in and out of your pussy, his nose stimulating your clit as he laps up as much of your juices as he possibly could. Beneath him, you’re floundering, half lifted into the air with only your shoulders, head and neck still on the bed. 

“James! Ahhhh!” You squeal in pleasure when he raises a hand to finger at your clit as his chin tilts up and his tongue curls deliciously inside you. He’s driving you closer and closer to the edge! 

Your once sweet James was gone. His loving and goofy self was lost to the lust-hungry man with his head buried between your thighs. He’s determined to unravel you at the seams with only the methodical writhing of his tongue and the stimulation of your sensitive clit. 

And, unravel, you did.

It was a searing white, hot and euphoric, sensation. Your erotic scream upon release was never registered by your ears as you were too consumed by rolling waves of ecstasy. The storm outside no longer existed. The rest of the world had disappeared too. It was only you and James and the bed. 

You don’t know how long it took you to finally catch your breath and focus your vision but when you did, James had pulled off your panties completely and was leaning over you, trying to hurriedly unbutton your– his shirt, desperate to see more of your skin. Without your panties, you’re naked underneath it and he needed to see you with nothing on. 

Quickly becoming impatient, James grips at the two halves of his button-up and savagely rips them apart as you gasp at the brute force he’s capable of exerting. But the instant his eyes fall upon your naked skin, his brutishness disappears entirely. His hazel eyes visibly soften and his fingers shyly drift over the skin of your stomach, delicate and caring, as if you were made of glass and he was afraid of breaking you. The loving, sweet James you knew was back. Though you were also getting quickly accustomed to his more savage side. 

“You’re so beautiful…” he whispers in awe and a surge of love tumbles over you, spurred by the admiration and worship in his pretty hazel eyes. The man before you was still your sweet and loving James, charming, kind and oh so loveable. It made tears fill your eyes. How did the two of you end up like this? With you refusing his love when you know that, deep down, that was all you ever wanted… forget your entrepreneurial dreams, James was it for you as much as you know you’re it for him. 

James didn’t allow you to contemplate your situation for very long as he was swiftly trailing delicate kisses up your torso and to your breasts. He eagerly sucks on your nipple, his hands placing themselves on your hips, pressing down – an anchor – and caressing your soft skin with his thumb. His tongue and teeth on your nipple pull endless streams of delicate whimpers and airy sighs from your lips, and he relishes every single one. 

You can see it in his hazel eyes, how much he adores it when your whimpers tremble and when your sighs raise a little higher in pitch. It compels you to keep vocalising your pleasure despite your mind arguing against you. You need to be stronger than this, you needed to resist him…he deserved better than you, he deserves greater happiness and he couldn’t have that if you were the one selfishly standing by his side, there’s a better match for him out there– but ohh~ he makes you feel sooo goood… 

Finally, he pulls away. You watch a strand of saliva connecting your nipple to his tongue slowly stretch and break off when he towers over your frame. His knees lock you in where he straddles your plush thighs and his back elongates to stretch his domineering figure taller, accentuating the ridges and lines of his toned abdomen. 

“You love me,” his voice is firm, trying to sway your decision and reel you back to him. 

“N-no…” You shake your head and your voice trembles with the lie. Your attempt to continue denying the obvious was pitiful and disappointing to the man before you. He clicks his tongue at your stubborn resistance but his gaze immediately softens at the sight of tears collecting at your waterline. With eyes like glass, the windows to your soul, James is reminded of why you were being so stubborn in the first place. 

It’s because he’s right. You do love him…and it’s because you love him that you will continue to resist. But it’s because you love him that he will continue to resist also. 

“I love you…” His soft gaze and loving words strip away all your defences. Your forged hatred and rejection disappear into nothing.

You don’t say anything. You can’t because how could you? After everything. After all your stupid decisions and flagrant exploitation of his trust, how could you ever return those same beautiful and affectionate words? Even if you mean every single one? You’re the selfish one here! His mother is right about him deserving better! Why can’t he see that?! 

To avoid his stare, you turn your face away and cover your eyes with your arm. Silence fills the room, and there’s a pause in all activity. All you want to do is escape the situation, denying ever being in such circumstances by rendering yourself incapable of seeing anything but darkness – the shadow of your arm, your only shield against James’s persistent call for you to return to him, to admit loving him back.

The silence lingers and is eventually broken by the sound of a belt being unbuckled followed by the shifting of fabric and a heart-thundering zzzzzzzzip….

Unveiling your eyes, you’re left speechless and blinking in shock at the sight of James taking off his pants and briefs. Unaffected by your frantic scramble, he stares down at you wordlessly. 

“James!…” he doesn’t answer your call.

You gasp, beginning to crawl backwards when he leans over you with his hard and angry erection in full view. In your peripheral, his length twitches and when you bend your knee to plant your feet on the bed and propel yourself backwards, your thigh comes so close to his hardness that you can feel the burning heat radiating from its stiff length.

“I’m going to show you how much I love you,” he finally says, “I’m going to fill you up over and over again, and I’m not going to stop until I know that you finally understand how much you mean to me,” he grabs your ankle and yanks you back down to him, your ass almost slipping off the edge of the bed, “understand how much I love you,” he trails a feathery touch up your thigh as he pushes them apart, “understand how I can’t live without you anymore and how desperately I want a future with you…” 

He raises your right leg and rests your heel against his shoulder, turning his face to kiss your ankle sweetly. His other hand grips your other thigh and anchors it to his waist, prompting your leg to wrap around him. “You’ll let me do it, won’t you?” He meets your eyes, “I know you love me, after all… isn’t that right?”

“...no….” You protest one last time but it’s so quiet, so demure and so lacking in strength that James searches your eyes for the real answer. As much as you know you have to resist him and deny his advances for his own betterment, you silently plead for his love. Your tearful eyes beg him to do whatever he wants and to give you his everything. You want him to love you all the way, like he always said he would despite his reluctance to love wholly once more after Lily Evans. What rotten timing. The time he’s finally willing to become yours and vice versa officially, his overprotective mother scares you away. 

“Speak up, love,” he urges despite knowing everything he needs to know only through the look in your eyes. You feel him lube up the head of his cock with your juices, letting out a shaky breath as he does so before finally lining himself up with your entrance. 

“No,” You voice a little louder. 

“No?” He bucks against your entrance with a hiss and you bite back a moan. 

“N-no…” he laughs at your pathetic whimper, the sound of which makes your lower belly clench around nothing. It was so sadistic and demeaning —you didn’t know that he could ever be like this, let alone make you feel this way. 

“Then—!” You both gasp when the swollen head of his cock breaks through your tight entrance, “then I’ll just—“ he continues to push forward, enjoying the view of your trembling form under him. He almost coos at how your small hands shakily grip the sheets, “—take you,” he exhales slowly after successfully burying himself inside you, he leans down to whisper inches away from your face, “I’ll just take you as I please,”

The brutal pace he sets from the start unhinges your jaw to let out a silent scream of pleasure. He had eaten you out so well that there was no pain, just a lingering ache after every punishing thrust, which only added to the pleasure. His rhythm steals your breath but doesn’t stop you from moaning erotically with your head thrown back in pleasure. 

“Oh, James! Ahhh!” You sob and stare up at him pleadingly, not knowing exactly what you were begging for anymore, “J-Jamie~…!” Above you, James groans at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue — only you could make his name sound oh so sweet~

“That’s it, love,” he smiles down wickedly, “that’s a good girl~” your back arches at his praise, which pushes your hips against him and catches the head of his cock against your walls at a different angle, pulling a squeal from your bitten lips.  

“Oh~” he coos, leaning forward to grip your hips as he lets go of your legs, “you like that spot, do you?” He holds your hips in place, marking the angle that gave you the most pleasure and proceeds to abuse your weakness viciously, his punishing thrusts unrelenting.

“O-ohh God! Ahhh!” 

“You don’t love me?” He challenges in between pants, groaning as your velvet walls throb and flutter around his stiff length, “LIES!” He snaps, suddenly pulling out of you so he could flip you over and take you from behind, “You’re a fucking liar!” 

Your front half collapses from the pleasure and James is left to hold your hips up himself, “I-I’m not,” you sob into the sheets, the tears in your eyes spilling past your waterline and getting soaked up by the soft linen.

“Then WHY are you so WET, love?” He growls into your hair, having leant over to press his torso against your arched back and bury his face into the back of your head, his mouth angled to your ear so that his breath tickles your skin at every word. Both of you groan in unison as the position makes him reach impossibly deep inside you, “WHY do you keep clenching around me like — oh fuck— like you want to drain my balls dry?”

“Ahhh! James!” he speeds up suddenly and you can barely keep up with your breathing. 

“And WHY are you pushing your hips back for me? Hm? You want me in deep, do you?” your gasp of realisation is disguised by your surprised squeal when his large hand comes down harshly to hit your ass. 

“Th-that’s not—“Despite your verbal protest, you don’t stop moving your hips in tandem with his own. You can’t help it. He feels too good! So big and thick and he’s hitting all the right places…!

“I’ll give you what you want,” he picks up the pace and bites your shoulder, quickly kissing and licking the stinging mark he leaves behind, “I’ll fill you up, love,” you don’t protest, instead, you moan louder and encourage him to push you closer and closer to the edge, “I’ll fill up your fertile, greedy little belly good— Aah! Okay?” 

You don’t answer him as pleasure takes over your mind and all you can do is moan. James also succumbs to the pleasure, sweat on his furrowed brow and tension building in his muscles as he quickly approaches his euphoric end. 

But no — he won’t allow himself that until you are fully satisfied. He’ll bring you to your release over and over again before he even thinks about stopping. 

With a scream, your vision turns white and your body stiffens up. James cries with pleasure, almost sobbing at the heavenly convulsions of your tight walls around him. As you slowly go limp beneath him, he finally succumbs to his own pleasure, satisfied that had reached your peak already. With a loud, shuddering moan, James pumps you full of his pent-up cum but he doesn’t stop thrusting. His movements are significantly more sluggish but he’s determined to push his white, thick release as deep as it can go.   

“You’re so beautiful…” he doesn’t pull out, “my beautiful girl, all mine,” you feel his large hand gently press against the soft skin of your belly and you hear the smile in his voice when he realises– “you’re full of me now. You took me so well, baby,” he coos beside your ear, his hot breath sending a shudder down your spine. 

Tilting you both over to lay on your side, he presses into you from behind and cuddles you close. The two of you lay there catching your breaths with James still buried inside you, determined not to pull out and spill all signs of your union.  

“...James?” you ask quietly after finally managing to catch your breath. 

“Yes, love?” he purrs lowly, kissing behind your ear as he pulls you impossibly close. The affection makes your heart flutter lightly. It’s impossible to deny him like this. Why did he have to make you feel so good? Why did he have to make you feel so loved?

“Please just… think about it?” He tenses up and you hold your breath in preparation for what may come.

“Think about what?...” his hands begin to wander at your front, his delicate touch tracing an unbroken path over your soft skin, “About how much I love you? How much I dream of our future together?”

His words make you tear up, “No, not that—”

“Then, about how beautiful you are? Because you’re very beautiful, my love,” still inside you, James’ fat cock begins to rise again, erect and throbbing for friction, lots of friction. 

“J-James–! Ahh! Wait!”

“And I don’t think you realise how beautiful you are, pet~” he coos almost demeaningly, ignoring your squirming, “it’s about time I show you just how beautiful you really are, and how beautifully you take my cock.” your breath stills at the implication, making James smirk into your hair, “Ready for round two?”

Yelping pathetically, James lifts you like a ragdoll and shuffles you both into the bathroom. He had to pull out for the manoeuvre and thick globes of his release poke at the ring of muscle at your entrance. The sensation makes you whimper and clench around nothing, making his hot cum slip out and begin crawling down your inner thigh. Inside the bathroom, James leans you over the sink and carefully parts your hair to kiss the slope of your shoulder before his large hands grab the globes of your ass to pry them apart delicately. 

The sight of his thick cum oozing out of your pussy and leaking down your inner thigh pulls a guttural groan from the depths of James’ chest. “You’re so fucking sexy baby,” he praises and smirks at the whimper his comment pulls from your pretty lips, “but what a waste of my cum.” He positions himself behind you, feet shoulder-width apart, and presses his mushroom tip against your wet opening. You’ve become so sensitive that the simple touch makes you squirm but his strong hold on your hips keeps you still. Without warning, he pushes inside so violently, you cry out and fall forward. You would have hit your head if your hands hadn’t come up to brace you against the large wall mirror above the sink. 

“Letting my cum drip out of you like that means I need to fill you up again, lovie,” he coos sweetly as if he wasn’t railing you from behind and pushing more of his thick cum out of you. He’s using his spilt seed as lubrication for your second round. “What a devious little minx you are,” James rests his chin against your bare shoulder, his bent-over form hitting a new angle and making you wail in pleasure, “I bet you pushed it out on purpose so I would pump you full again.” He kisses your cheek and you have to face down so you didn’t have to watch yourself getting savagely fucked by the devilish beast who’d possessed your loving boyfriend’s (ex? – that broke your heart) chiselled body. If you continued watching the erotic scene, you would cum too quickly and… you didn’t want that… 

“Look at yourself!” James demands and pushes your chin up from underneath, forcing you to watch yourself get fucked. 

Eyes wide, you try to look away but he holds your chin in place, “N-no! James!”

“Why not?” he pants heavily, pleasure evident on his beautiful face. You can tell that he was savouring the feeling of you with the way every odd twitch of his brow perfectly corresponded to the sporadic tightening of your walls, “you look so beautiful, my love, see?” he meets your eyes in the mirror, “you’re an angel, an angel who’s perfectly made for me. And I, you,” his poetry weakens your resolve more and more, “Don’t you see how beautiful we look together? We’re the perfect match, baby.” your moans and pants fog up the mirror, unable to say anything back as you’re too lost in the pleasure. James takes his hand away from your chin and focuses on aiming every powerful thrust perfectly so that you feel every tingle of pleasure spike up your spine. Maybe it’ll be able to convince you to stay with him despite his mother’s unwarranted comments. 

Feeling yourself tear up at your lover’s words and the sight of your pairing, you turn to the side, only to gasp at the new sight. The glass barrier of the shower provides you with the faintest reflection of your full-body lovemaking with James. His toned body and perfectly carved muscles make him look like a god and he was fucking you as if he had never felt pleasure like this before. His powerful thrusts make your ass bounce rhythmically and his down-turned face makes it obvious how transfixed he is with the movement, urging him to continue despite the ache in his legs and hips. 

Seeing the two of you joined together like this and fully lost in the throes of passion stirs something in your lower belly. It’s familiar and aching and hot and—

Throwing your head back, you scream in pleasure and reach your high once again. Your legs are shaking and your hands try to grip the surface of the mirror in an attempt to steady the convulsions of your upper body. Behind you, James gives a few more powerful thrusts before spilling his hot cum inside you again. With the way your walls pulse and throb around him, your uterus wanted to swallow every bit of his cum and make a baby. And with how viscous his release is, there’s a high chance you’ve become pregnant. 

Your legs are weak but James keeps you up with steady hands and a secure frame. Again, despite already reaching his high, James doesn’t stop thrusting into you until you’re whimpering from overstimulation. Finally coming to a full stop, James lets out something between a sob and a groan, burrowing his face into your shoulder, “Don’t leave me— please don’t leave me… I love you,” where his lashes press against your skin, a wetness pools and you’re alerted to his tears. 

You take a shuddering breath and reach up a hand to comb through your lover’s untamed curls. “I’ll stay Jamie…” James almost snaps his neck in half looking up, his wide, hopeful eyes connecting with yours in the mirror.

“You..?”

“I’ll stay,”  you repeat gently but firmly, smiling at him. 

“Really?”

“Yes really,” you giggle at his visage; he looks like a kid on Christmas day. “At this rate, I don’t really have a choice,” you begin teasingly as his brows furrow in wonder, “after all of that, I might as well be pregnant right now,”

Your joke isn’t met with a humorous chuckle like you expect, instead, there’s a stirring inside you. Gasping softly, you turn your head and meet James’ dark stare with wide-eyed shock, “Jamie! It’s t-too soon—” he captures your lips fiercely and begins ramming into you for the third time – in a matter of seconds, he had become rock hard again. However, in the state that you were in, sensitive from overstimulation, there isn’t a chance of you lasting longer than a minute. “A-ahhhh! James!”

“Fuck! I love you so much~” James moans deeply, a string of saliva connecting your lips as he pulls back from the heated kiss, “you drive me fucking crazy,” you try holding on for as long as you can but James slapping your ass only to grip possessively at the flesh was all it took to make you cum again. The high makes you tear up, becoming a pitiful, whimpering mess beneath your tenacious lover. 

“I want to make sure you’re really pregnant by the end of tonight,” James comments as he presses a kiss into the back of your head. “We can keep going until sunrise, can’t we, love?”

There’s only one true answer to that, “yes~”

A/N : please excuse my inexperience, this is the first official nsfw oneshot i've written ever. the only 'qualification' i have is that i am an avid reader of nsfw content so...yeah, i'd appreciate some constructive criticism wherever possible just please go easy on me... also, i apologise for the long wait since my preview of the piece, i had to rearrange the scenes and rewrote some stuff but it's finally here so i hope you darlings enjoyed the read!

p.s i worked on this on and off for a long time so please excuse me if it feels patchy in some areas (｡Ó﹏Ò｡)

NAVI.

TAGLIST : @prongsio ; @starchaser-lily ; @somewereinthegalaxi ; @wicked-sprite-66 ; @futurecorps3

[thekqipond]

POLY MARAUDERS | HEROES IN TATTOOS PRT.8

08 : TONIGHT

CHPT. SUM. : you finally get to call them yours and they finally get to call you theirs and it's amazing! but something's missing...and it absolutely has something to do with the ache between your legs! 

LENGTH : 6.1k

TAGS. : very suggestive chapter ; boys and reader being horny for each other ; but do we blame them? no. we. don't! ; james being a pest ; sirius being a hot biker ; remus being a gentleman ; reader being a brat ; remus not being a gentleman anymore ; prologue to nsfw chapter

← PREV. : 07 | APOLOGIES & COMFORT | SERIES M.LIST

You don’t know what you expected when the boys slowly began integrating you into their already-established relationship. In the beginning, you were worried about feeling like an outsider. From what they’ve shared with you, the boys have been best friends since their secondary school years, meaning that their history with each other was deeply rooted and you were intimidated, to say the least. You’re just a simple girl they helped protect from a creep a year or so ago. You couldn’t possibly stack up to the type of love they have with each other.

This was a reasonable insecurity to have, the boys understood that and were always there to reassure you of its negligible influence. And when their words weren’t enough, they happily showered you in affection, from loving kisses to warm embraces. They flirted shamelessly, left lingering touches scorched along your exposed skin and pulled you into kisses that ranged from feather-light to deeply passionate, they were eager to kiss and squeeze that vulnerability away until it no longer remained in your beautiful eyes. And you appreciate them so much for their efforts.

Not a second goes by when you don’t feel loved by them, or underappreciated. The love you reciprocated, although much softer and, somewhat, apprehensive, always made them melt into your arms. It was quite the trial considering how much bigger these men were compared to you. But you didn’t mind. Their warmth and weight against you only reinforced the realness of the situation, your situation, your relationship.

This was a dream come true – the best-case scenario for the mounting love you were amassing for each of the three tattooed and pierced men working at the parlour. If you told yourself this would be the outcome months ago, you wouldn’t have believed your ears.

“You’ve got that starry look in your eyes again, dollface,” Sirius chuckles as he presses a loving kiss to your fluttering eyelids, “what are you thinking? Hmmm?” The tattooist currently had you in his lap, disregarding the clock face on the wall. He was supposed to be preparing for a client who would be arriving soon but, instead of being a responsible tattooist, he had himself preoccupied with you.

“Sirius, you’ve got a client coming soon,” you pout, appearing more stressed over his appointment than he is.

As dramatic as always, Sirius put on a big show of missing you, his arms flailing about with his voice fluctuating in his theatrics, “But I’m feeling very deficient in vitamin ‘you’, sweetheart! I need to get my necessary second dose,” you roll your eyes at his playfulness and quietly argue about how this wasn’t his second dose.

“Rather, it’s been your fourth or fifth dose already,” giggling, you endeavour to kiss his pout away before trying to leave so he could have the time to prepare for his appointment while you caught up on your university assignments. Next thing you know, he has you nestled into his lap with your coursework papers set aside and your laptop closed shut. All your attention needed to be on him; he wanted it all.

“We have eight minutes,” he wagered deviously.

You’ve come to find out that Sirius was pretty spoiled when it came to affection. The distinction becomes even more apparent when you compare him to Remus and James. Thankfully, that translated into Sirius happily initiating affection as much as he pleads for it. He’s just this handsome, broad man with the most beautiful grin and the prettiest grey eyes separated by his perfect nose – he’s irresistible, really. And you know that he knows it too; all he has to do is pull those puppy-dog eyes and he gets anything and everything he wants. It’s almost frustrating how he wins your favour each time but you never regret giving into him.

No. Never for Sirius.

…Or Remus. Or James. God, you love these men so damn much!

“Doll?” he tilts his head adorably, a habit he’s picked up from the personified golden retriever himself – James.

“It’s nothing,” you hum, combing your fingers through his hair and pressing a kiss to his slightly scratchy jaw. His stubble was growing out ever so slightly and began to cast a light shadow across the lower half of his handsome face.

“Can’t be nothing,” he protests, delivering a loving nuzzle into the crown of your hair, “are you falling for me?~ Tell me the truth, beautiful girl,” he’s as playful as ever, an expert in heating up your cheeks for his own entertainment, “I know you’re shy but you’re also very honest, hmm?” you don’t respond and keep your focus trained on the rose tattoo creeping up his neck, with its expertly shaded thorns and petals. “I might just give you a reward if you’re honest with me,”

With a small smile, you peek up at him from beneath your lashes. The shadows they cast over your vision distract from the obvious pink hue exploding across his cheeks as soon as he catches your gaze, god! Could you get any more beautiful? You need to stop looking at him like that but also, please keep looking at him and never look away again! “I’ve already fallen for you, Sirius Black,”

Sirius’ jaw goes slack as his playful demeanour collapses under you. The prettiest smile he’s ever seen stretches across your plump lips, so kissable and laced with a shy playfulness he’s fallen in love with.

You drive him absolutely mad…

… and he loves it!

James adores scooping you up into his arms. Not only is your resounding squeal the most adorable thing he’s ever heard but he just cherishes the feel of you tucked up in his embrace. For the first time, he fully understands the expression of describing one’s significant other as their whole world. Because when he has you giggling in his arms, clinging to his neck and nuzzling your face into the space under his jaw, James feels as though he’s got the entire world in his arms – he can accomplish anything and everything he sets his mind to. With you in his arms, he’s invincible; there’s a power that surges through him, a little like adrenaline but not quite so. It’s more powerful. He doesn't know what it is or how exactly to articulate its distinctions but he feels its fullness and capabilities like no other. He is the ruler of an empire, a conqueror with his perfect queen ruling beside him.

He is the leading character of a poignant Shakespearean play with you as his equally established partner. He is one half of a star and you are the other. Each is a ridiculous example but each also feels so fitting.

Of course… Only you could have ignited such an unfounded emotion within him.

“You feel it too, right Moony?” James whispers whilst he and the tall body piercer observe your happy movements gracefully puttering about their upstairs office, organising stacks of paperwork for them.

“Love?” Remus asks. It should be the obvious answer – you’re the protagonist of their conversation after all – but astute to James’ unique expressions for the natural and mundane, the brunette knows it’s going to be one of those times when James strongly feels a certain way and finds it hard to put into words. It makes Remus smile knowing that it’s about you – it’s surely something he can sympathise with James on.

“I guess but… it's different, somehow,” he doesn’t quite know how to articulate it, he just feels it. In his chest, in his fingertips, in his throat, in his stomach, even in his toes – he feels it everywhere. How could he not? Just looking at you, James can already justify that what he was feeling was perfectly admissible, whether he could put it into words or not. What he feels is true, it’s real and it gets stronger (almost achingly so) whenever he looks at you. The apple of his eye… never had an expression fit so well.

“I understand,” Remus voices after a deep, rumbling hum. His gaze soon turns to the tattoo artist beside him, fond eyes softening and stepping much closer to him, “I feel it too — for her and you, and Sirius,”

“That’s a given,” James grins boyishly up at his best friend and precious lover before he’s pulled into a loving kiss.

Tucking your chin a little over your shoulder, you glimpse the inviting image of your two lovers locking lips. It was heartening to see that their love for one another hadn’t changed because of your recent entanglement with them too. There was always a little corner of worry in your heart for potentially breaking their bond due to your interference.

The last time you let that same emotion control you, the aftereffects were explosive and unnecessarily wounding to all parties so you keep the emotion in check often, the boys too. But there was no complete dismissal of it. As much as you adore the boys and their love for you, you also adore their love for each other. It was incredibly inspiring to see what they had built together. Their parlour, their love, their quaint, shared flat.

But now, you also had the privilege of seeing them share more intimate acts of love and it was leading to a bad habit, a bad staring habit. So much so that you didn’t notice the two breaking away from each other until their devious smirks were solely directed at you.

“Care to join us, my dear?” Remus calls his voice like a hypnotising whisper, pulling invisible strings to shift your feet forward and lure you in. In no time at all, you’re close enough for the two to lock you between their strong, tattooed arms and finally launch their attack. You’re not complaining.

You’re so grateful to be able to join in their love and be with them like this. And you’re curious about what the four of you would end up building together one day. Rather than a small flat, maybe a house? A family? With kids? Fur-babies? A cat or dog? Maybe both? Regardless, one promise was absolutely certain: a happy life that’s bursting at the seams with love – it was a very compelling thought.

Finally winding down for the night, you separate from the boys and remain tucked away in their neatly prepared spare bedroom. James and Sirius were proud to announce that they had tidied the place up for you; Remus would have contributed as well if it weren’t for him being the main man who handled the paperwork for the parlour.

You thanked the two for their thoughtfulness with a kiss but also kissed Remus for his hard work in ‘keeping their business alive’. It was a cheeky remark but one that got an adorable pout from James and Sirius along with a well-humoured laugh from the tall brunette himself. There was a love in his eyes that made you weak in the knees, his chocolate pools staring down at you, threatening to drown you in their warmth, his fingers ghosting the skin of your chin and ever so gently tilting your face to admire your features better. He moved as if he were propping up a delicate art piece, not wanting to press too harshly but enough to warrant a sensitive and lingering touch.

“You spoil us,” he utters as a heat blooms across your cheeks and a small peep pushes past your lips. Mistaking your incoherent squeak for verbal thought, Remus bends down at the waist with curious and furrowed brows, “What was that, my dear?” James and Sirius lightly snicker to themselves from the interaction. You would have scolded them for their childish behaviour if Remus didn’t have you melting into a puddle from doing absolutely nothing!

“I-It’s nothing, Rem,” thankfully, he didn’t need much convincing. Having him that close was intimidating – you just can’t believe that this beautiful, soft-spoken, loving and gentle giant of a man is yours.

The boys had allowed you to use the bathroom first and followed after you for their night routine. From where you sat at the vanity, you often catch yourself smiling and sometimes even giggling when you hear their antics echoing through the hallway. It was all very amusing and you had to bite your lip when thoughts of normalising this scenario into a nightly routine materialised in your head. It was still early on in your otherwise unconventional relationship and you didn’t want to risk anything. An eagerness for more was healthy but over-eagerness wouldn’t be worth potentially commencing an accelerated rate of negative interactions.

Going through your nightly skincare, you hum a soft tune to yourself. It felt like you were at your own flat, getting ready for bed as if it was any other night and the familiarity was surprising. You didn’t feel out of place at all despite the new environment. Although, you wouldn't expect anything less from your boys. They really knew how to make you feel welcome. At least you know that you’ll be sleeping restfully tonight.

“Almost ready for bed, Angel?” James’ sudden appearance in the doorway makes you tense before playfully pouting at him, especially when he has the gall to giggle at your startled reaction, “Awww~ don’t be like that, love~” he coos, walking up to stand behind your seated form. He, too, bends at the waist to kiss behind your ear and trail loving pecks down your neck to the slopes of your shoulder.

“My night routine is meant to be relaxing, Jamie,” you huff but he can hear the smile in your voice and looks up with his beautiful eyes, meeting your gaze in the vanity mirror. Slowly, he pulls his lips away from your exposed shoulder.

With a devilish smirk, he brings his lips to your ear and whispers, “I can help you with that…” You feel his feathery touch tracing the curves of your waist, coming up from your hips, “Relaxing, I mean~”

“James!”

He throws his head back with a laugh that makes his shoulders shake and his pretty curls bounce ever so slightly. He’s risen to his full height now and resists the urge to caress the skin of your cheek, respectful of your freshly applied skincare — he’s had to put up with Sirius’ grumbles and whines after mistakenly kissing his still dewy, moisturised cheek on previous nights. And James wouldn’t want to ruin your first night here like that. He’s no amateur. Instead, James concedes to caressing your hair and placing a loving kiss onto your crown. He loves the combined smell of your hair products and natural scent. It’s solely you; a fragrance that could never be contained in a bottle, which is, both, a pity and a relief. A pity that he can’t carry a small bottle around whenever he’s missing you horribly bad. But a relief that something so intimate about you couldn’t be shared beyond him, Sirius and Remus. James would rather set the world ablaze before that ever came to fruition.

“Alright, my love, I’ll leave you be…” you begin to sigh in relief until, “-for now~”

“James!” you giggle sweetly, and he joins you not too long after, “You’re such a pest!”

He cackles adorably as he walks back to the door, making his exit swift and injury-free – he, just barely, evades your swatting hands. The two of you gradually allow your shared merriment to fade into a comfortable silence. You return to completing your skincare routine while James remains at the doorway.

From afar, the tattooist quietly admires your figure, elegant and so… so girly as you go through your nightly regime. It wasn’t a bad thing seeing your femininity shine through was refreshing. Sure, Sirius partook in the same self-care religiously, at the start of every day and the beginning of every night but you, with your cosy pyjamas, fuzzy slippers, panda ears headband and prettily laid out products, have James bewitched; entranced in the most blissful way. He likes seeing and observing you like this. So comfortable that there isn’t a single change in your routine; so comfortable that you’re humming to yourself; so comfortable that you look like you belong here. Truthfully, he’s wanted to ask you to move in for quite some time now but understands the importance of going at a steady pace and one that everyone agrees on.

You all finally have each other to call your own, that’s what truly mattered at the end of the day. So he holds himself back.

The routine you have is quite thorough so you’re not one to exclude your neck area or chest. As you adjust your clothes to prep your neck and chest area, James glimpses more and more of your skin each time. Naturally, his cheeks colour a soft pink while his thoughts are gradually consumed by all the things he wants to do to you — bending you over every piece of furniture in the flat, not discounting the walls or the carpeted floor, even atop and inside his beloved car. Every hot and crude detail is uncensored, the images that flash in his head are dangerously explicit and encompass you wholely. Your pleasure is his top priority. He’ll have you moaning in his ear, panting for breath as he goes faster, harder, whatever you want, as long as you keep singing for him. Singing until you’re screaming and reaching your peak over and over and over—

“The door locks, y’know,” James mentions casually, not surprising you as much this time. Although his random comment does make you raise a brow.

“Oh?” you apply your berry-flavoured lip mask and smile at him through the mirror with a hint of curiosity, “Okay, thank you for telling me, Jamie,” it still wasn’t clear to you what he was trying to get at with his casual but warning remark.

“Are you going to lock it for the night?” his question makes you stop for a moment, what was he trying to say? “I think you should lock it, angel… you don’t want any surprise visitors — it’s hard resisting you this long,” he had a teasing smile on his lips but there was a dark look in his eyes that made you shudder. That’s what he meant…

“A-alright,”

He pauses, appearing to contemplate something as he leans forward but ultimately decides against his earlier intentions and straightens his posture accordingly, “that’s my good girl,” you watch his sly smirk disappear from the vanity mirror. It takes you a few moments longer to return to your skincare routine.

Sirius smirks at you with an amused glint in his eye, “do you want to sit on it?” he asks, his big hand gently patting the seat of his bike. Being able to see right through you and read your inner thoughts was one of Sirius’ many talents. It amazed you but also made your cheeks flush in embarrassment. Were you really that transparent and readable? To Sirius, you were, but that’s only because he’s grown to have a keen eye for you and your little quirks; he finds them adorable and adores being able to read your thoughts, so that he knows he’s catering to you well.

Your hesitation is obvious. It’s not like you haven’t ridden on his motorbike before; you’ve ridden on it plenty of times. However, it was usually with you seated behind Sirius. For a while, you contemplated whether or not it would feel different to be the actual biker. You didn’t know how to ride a motorbike so you were secretly hoping that Sirius would allow you to hop on after he did his routine motorbike maintenance. It was common to do these checks and services every 6 months, but because Sirius used his motorbike so often, he tracked the regular services based on the miles he covered. He’s already crossed 4000 miles so his bike was due for some maintenance already.

“Are you sure?” you ask in a voice that’s so soft and sweet, Sirius can’t help but temper his smirk into a warm smile.

“It’s safe, sweetheart, and I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t okay with it,” the bright grin you gifted him made Sirius question why he hadn’t thought to make such an offer sooner. It was clear that you were interested in his bike but he didn’t know whether or not he was deciphering your intentions correctly, until now. With a skip in your step, you make your way over as Sirius chuckles to himself.

You’re just too cute~

“Thank you, Siri,” you reach up to cup his jaw and gently guide him down to press a loving kiss against his cheek.

“Anything for you, Doll,” he kisses your cheek as well, just before you get the chance to pull too far away from him. Sirius then guides you onto his motorbike, offering to stabilise you with his hands on your hips as you get settled on the seat. With his strength alone, he takes the bike off his kickstand and straightens it from the back so that you can experience what it’s really like without the bike being slanted to the side. The tattooist is much taller than you and so you aren’t able to fully flatfoot your feet, instead your toes barely brush the ground. Seeing that you’re able to just swing your feet back and forth, a quiet giggle escapes you – music to Sirius’ ears.

“This is fun!” you cheer softly, still quite shy as you glance over your shoulder with a flutter of your lashes, meeting eyes with the inked-up biker, who was grinning brightly at you. His strong arms are on full display, tattoos and all, as he holds the bike straight and steady from behind. He’s dressed in a simple black tank top and loose grey joggers. It’s a style that James often wears around their flat but you’re not surprised that Sirius was able to pull off the look too. With a face like his, you can easily determine that he’d suit any style he tries on.

“Why don’t you try pretending you’re actually riding it by grabbing onto the handles,” he encourages, excited. Having James, Remus and you as his loves were heaven on earth, but being able to share one of his favourite hobbies and his beloved motorbike fostered a different kind of haven in his heart. It’s overflowing and shows easily in his voice.

“Okay!” eagerly, you lean forward to grasp onto the handles and, with a feverish buzz, pretend you’re actually riding the bike out on the road. From backpacking behind Sirius so often, imagining the shift in positions and being the actual biker was quite easy. What a thrill! No wonder Sirius makes up any excuse to be out on his bike.

Yes, you’re still stationary but it’s just too easy to imagine everything, from the wind in your hair to the adrenaline pumping through your veins, encouraged by the rapidly passing views on either side of you. A view of the seaside at sunset is very appealing but winding country roads also offer great scenery. You can hear your heartbeat rising to match your vision and you have to bite your lip to contain an elated laugh. There’s no need to embarrass yourself even more, especially with Sirius behind you.

So stuck in your pretending, you miss Sirius’ partially restrained groan of frustration from behind your leant-over figure, “Fuck. Me…” he has the perfect view of your ass. And when you’re bent over his bike like this, his joggers tighten up around his crotch alarmingly fast. Never mind that the joggers were already very loose-fitting, he can’t help himself when you’re offering him such a spectacular view. And to have it be on top of his motorbike too…

The things you do to him… the things he would do to you.

Suppressing another groan, Sirius hurries to free his kickstand and lean his bike over before you realise what’s happening. It takes a lot of strength and agility but his focus has narrowly concentrated on you and nothing was going to get in his way. He has to resist going all the way – for now – but that doesn’t mean resigning himself to zero contact at all.

“Siri–?!” you squeal in surprise when he lifts you off his bike and positions you in a way that forces your legs to wrap around his hips from fear of falling, while his arms circle your hips, “what’s this all about?” you give an adorable tilt of your head as you look down at him, perched a little higher on his torso so that your hands could place themselves on his sturdy shoulders while his arm provides a sort of seat for you underneath.

“I’ll show you what this is about,” his voice is several octaves lower, barely recognisable from where they resonate at the far back of his throat. His big hands grab the globes of your ass and lower you down from your upper perch so that he grinds your covered pussy lips against his erect cock. Even through the fabric of his joggers, the sheer size of him is obvious and it’s mortifying how wet you get. He keeps you pressed against him as he swallows your shocked gasp, prying your lips apart with his tongue so he can explore your sweet mouth.

“...you can’t be showing your perfect ass like that – so pretty on top of my bike – without facing the consequences, dollface,”

“But!” you manage to protest between his eager lips, “but you said–!”

“I know what I said,” he bites at your lower lips and grinds against you, “I guess we’re both at fault that I’m like this right now, huh, baby?” he pulls away to suck and nibble on your neck, loving the moans he draws from you, “Nothing a little loving can’t fix, right?”

He won’t go too far… just a little grinding here and there while he devours your pretty little mouth. That’s all he’s asking for. And, being the lovely, kind princess that you are, of course, you oblige him.

“A-alright…” you conceded, finally trying to match his level of eagerness when his lips connected with yours once more.

“That’s my girl~”

The initial week everything came to a head, where all was revealed and you ended up spending the night at the boys’ flat, only for disaster to hit in the form of your period the next day was weeks behind you now. You're surprised that a week after that – when you had finally gotten off your dreaded period – Remus didn’t pounce on you. Nor did James. Or Sirius. Now an entire month has passed and still nothing. James and Sirius have been more impassioned than Remus but it appears as though they’re more united than ever on the simple fact of ‘going easy’ on you.

The tall brunette insinuated such provocative things that night. Thinking back to that moment makes butterflies explode in your stomach, all while a ravenous heat spreads chaotically throughout your body. That same heat then stubbornly settles between your legs and in your lower belly. You’re ashamed to admit that you were really looking forward to what Remus planned on doing to you…

But now he’s being the perfect gentleman again and you don’t know what to do!

You love how gentlemanly he is, kissing you sweetly on the cheek, whispering loving, poetic words only for you to hear, listening to anything and everything you wanted to say with the utmost attention and interest, pulling doors open for you, doing little favours that made your days go by smoother and so much more. It felt incredibly unreasonable to complain when there was nothing to complain about! Though… were you really complaining? If you think about it, all you would be doing is expressing your opinion and providing some constructive criticism for what you want out of the relationship – there’s nothing wrong with that, is there?

When you officially became theirs and them, yours, it was established and emphasised heavily by Remus, himself, that communication was key to having a successful and loving relationship. If something was wrong, you could go to them without any hesitation; they promised to never disregard your worries or dismiss them apathetically. And you made the same promise to them, in return. If they were ever feeling insecure about something in the relationship then they could communicate any concerns they have to you without feeling an ounce of fear. By verbalising your, somewhat, embarrassing internal torment, you’d be keeping your promise and prioritising communication — just like you all promised each other!

So you have nothing to worry about…

It’s just a little hard to verbalise that’s all…

…maybe you should wait until after dinner tonight? Remus looks a little busy right now…

“Don’t look at me with those eyes, pretty girl,” Remus’ low, bordering seductive, voice tenses your nerves, pulling a lazy chuckle from the back of his throat at the adorable sight of your surprise, “you’re distracting me,” he emphasises his statement with the tap of his pen onto the papers laid out before him. Despite his comment, however, he doesn’t sound angry and he’s not frowning either. Instead, Remus has his chin in the palm of his hand and tilts his head at you, smiling fondly at your visage.

“You look like you don’t mind it,” you shot back, voice shy but quippy, parallel to the defiant folding of your arms.

Remus throws his head back with a laugh before shaking his head at you. His smile widens and he bites his lower lip to force it down just a little bit. As you put on a playful pout, your earlier thoughts slipping from your mind, the tattooed body piercer rolls over to you on his wheeled office chair.

Reaching you in a few long strides, knee to knee, he disregards your sassy comment and simply asks, “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

A heat crawls up your neck and settles on the apples of your cheeks as your earlier contemplations return. It’s a little hard to muster up your courage to speak right now. And, conveniently, the carpeted floors look very interesting all of a sudden.

“I-It was nothing,” you unfold your arms and fidget with the hem of your pleated skirt; your gaze still fixed onto the office’s dark grey carpet.

He quirks a brow but doesn’t say anything despite the question evident in his chocolate-brown eyes. His gaze holds onto your own, the small smile on his lips calming your earlier taut nerves. In your peripheral, Remus slides his fingertips over the skin of your thighs, his movement careful and feathery until he hears you suck in a sharp breath. As soon as your eyes widen, shocked by his unexpected touch and you release a sharp gasp, Remus throws all care out the window. He proceeds to slide his grip under your thighs and, hoists you up and over to sit on his lap. Thankfully his office chair doesn’t have any armrests so he’s able to comfortably seat you there, pretty as can be.

“You’re sure you can’t tell me?” he asks in a murmur, muffled by the skin of your temple as he presses a soft kiss there.

“It’s really nothing!” you squeak, avoiding his eyes and missing his fond smile as he watches you fumbling with your hands. He keeps you perfectly seated on his lap from where he firmly grips your outer thighs. Your skin is so soft and smooth with the perfect amount of fluff, to fill it in – he loves all of you but if he had to choose, he’d say your thighs were his favourite feature.

“You can be honest with me,” you don’t answer, tucking your flustered face into the crook of his neck instead. Fondly, he begins to caress the back of your head with one hand, the other still on your thigh. He lowers his voice into a quiet murmur so only you can hear, “Why don’t you whisper it to me instead?”

Funnily enough, his suggestion, no matter how simple, was convincing. It was meant for his ears only and you didn’t want to risk anyone else hearing your inner thoughts out loud. Also, the idea of whispering your carnal contemplations felt… safer somehow. Intimate too but you ran with it, your thoughts begging to be released.

Leaning up, you place one hand on his broad chest, the other on his shoulder so as to position your lips beside his ear with enough stability, “I was just thinking about…umm,”

“Hmm?...” you feel his thumbs caressing the skin of your thighs — a comforting gesture that you feel embarrassed for being unsuited to your pending admission.

“About you…”

Something flashes in his eyes, “...What about me, my love?” he hopes to god he hasn’t upset you.

You pause to muster up enough courage, “...about what you said you would do to me that night…” Hopefully, he knows what you’re referring to because you don’t think you’ll be able to articulate his exact words or the entire situation properly. You’re already far too sheepish.

Holding your breath, you wait for some sort of reaction, maybe a spoken word? Something… But Remus’ lips are sealed shut and there’s only silence. Your heart hammers in your ears as you slowly pull away from the safety of your lover’s neck and peek up to gauge his reaction, only to find that his face shows no emotion at all. You’re tempted to whisper his name, a soft prompt and an indirect request for some sort of answer when he’s suddenly pulling you into a deep kiss. One hand cups your jaw as the other explores your curves. His movement and the feeling he imbues in the kiss – all of it points to an impatience and a vicious need, the need to have you in every way possible.

Remus explores the lines of your shape but makes a small sound of displeasure when his hands are unable to sneak up the AC/DC graphic shirt you stole from Sirius as it’s tucked into your pleated skirt. Quickly, he moves his large hands back to your exposed thighs. You hold your breath as you feel his warm touch move up your warm skin, far enough to sneak past the hem of your pleated skirt.

“Please…” Remus relishes in the moan that parts your delicious, bruised lips, “I can take it! Please please please,” you gasp and pant, your shaking voice emphasising your desperation for more. You’ve waited so long, you’ve been so patient, you’re ready for this! The feel of his lips against your skin is addictive but your addiction is insatiable from that alone and you beg for more.

“Are you sure about that?” Remus’ lips make it to the shell of your ear, where his husky voice whispers as he grabs at your ass. With his hands full of you, he pulls you in to grind his bulging hardness against your puffy, lower lips and dampening panties. He relishes in the moans that you can’t contain behind trembling, kiss-bitten lips and smirks when he hears the click of the office door opening.

“She’s ready for us then?” James asks, the smirk on his lips obvious through the smug tone of his voice.

“It’s about damn time,”

Remus smiles as you tuck your flustered face into the crook of his neck and gives your ass a reassuring squeeze beneath your skirt, “Tonight, sweetheart,”

You pout at his remark and pull away with a huff, “No!” you protest defiantly, “Now!” You’re tired of waiting! And what’s the use of their upstairs, private office space if you can’t do private things in it?

“Don’t be a brat, dove,” Remus warns, the usual warmth leaving his eyes as Sirius and James step into the room and close the door behind them but don’t step an inch closer.

“But I’ve waited so long, please Rem, I promise I can take it—” you squeal loudly when a harsh slap hits your ass. So caught up in your needs, you completely missed how Remus used one hand to lift your skirt while his other prepared to deliver penance.

“Rem–!” ignoring your whining, he sits down to bend you over his lap and continues beating your ass despite your shrieks of pain. It wasn’t until you were a whimpering tearful mess that Remus finally relented, his big hand returning to their gentle touches as he comfortingly palms your sore ass. He’s sorry. But you were being a brat.

“Brats don’t deserve to get what they want, even if they say please, do I make myself clear?”

Unable to vocalise properly through your tears and pitiful whimpers, you simply nod your head but squealed when Remus cupped your tender asscheek and gave it a firm squeeze of displeasure, “Y-yes sir,”

“Good girl,” Remus hums softly,

NAVI. | SERIES M.LIST | NEXT : 09 | THE NIGHT... →

A/N : next chapter will be where everything goes down my loves! i hope you're prepared and i'm sorry for making you all wait this long; what can i say? i love a good slow burn smut hehe~

again, i'd like to remind everyone that i have discontinued all my taglists but made a side account for you to follow so you can be notified whenever i post something new, just turn on notifications @thekqipond

please like, comment and reblog to show your support, i'd really appreciate it! property of kquil ; all written content is mine and no one else's unless stated otherwise ; do not steal, plagiarise, modify or translate to other sites

[thekqipond]

REGULUS BLACK | HOLD HER PART 2

SUM. : Regulus sees a glimpse of his future with you and it's all he needs to give in

TAGS. : sunshine reader x grump regulus ; regulus is in denial ; pandora lestrange being the ultimate bestie ; james is in denial too ; james is not a shipper ; reader is precious ; regulus finally gives in

LENGTH : 2k

PART 0.5 | PART 1

Today was a shared class in Divination. Regulus doesn’t see much use for the subject, the antithesis of his divination partner and close friend, Pandora Lestrange. She was a whimsical being with curious mannerisms but that was why Regulus found her so refreshing to be around. She points out what isn’t always obvious and never judges anyone for anything. For those traits alone, she’s the only person he’s been able to talk about regarding you. 

After the fiasco at the courtyard following your bogart lesson, it’s become incredibly obvious to Regulus how attached he’s become to you. And vice versa. Over Lupin, you had gone to him for comfort. He was the one to wipe away your tears, he was the one to lovingly pet your hair, he was the one to whisper sweet reassurance into your ear, he was the one who held you tight until your shaking figure calmed and you were no longer sobbing helplessly into his shoulder. 

“You like her,” Pandora had declared, matter-of-factly after the event. He had gone to her, unable to fully articulate his feelings and needed guidance from someone who wasn’t naturally disparaging. “As more than a friend,” Pandora elaborated further when her brief answer didn’t satisfy him, sending the youngest Black brother spiralling. It was a reality he had been actively denying in an attempt to distance himself from you. His family were dangerous people and so were his forced associations – he didn’t want to burden you with that type of peril. 

Ever since that day, owing to his whispers of protection, Regulus avoided you adamantly. It wasn’t easy, however. You didn’t make it easy. Being your precious, cheerful self, you didn’t antagonise him for his sudden distance. Whenever you would catch his eye, you would flash him a smile. It’s as bright and warm as he remembers – you haven’t changed at all in spite of his obvious avoidance. 

“You are conflicted,” Pandora whispers from beside him as the objectives for the lesson are laid out by their divination professor — they were to use their crystal balls to attempt looking into their partner’s future. The procedure follows the same steps as their previous lesson, where they were tasked with looking into each others’ past. There were only a few tweaks that needed considering for future sight so it was simple enough. “There’s no need to distance yourself from someone who brings you such peace, Regulus,” she smiles at him serenely, not a trace of judgement in her eyes as the professor finally allows them to commence their set tasks. 

“It’s for a good reason—”

“You aren’t protecting her,” Pandora takes the lead and begins the ritual as Regulus grumbles opposite her, “You only succeed in denying her and yourself happiness. It’s time to stop, yes?”

Regulus doesn’t want to answer regardless of her truthful observations, “Do you see anything about my future?”

With grace, Pandora allows the change in subject and focuses on her crystal ball. The two of them actively ignore a growing dispute occurring not too far from their table. The pair protests their tasks, questioning the validity of divination and doubling down on their claims of the subject being pointless once the professor makes his way over to interject. Regulus scoffs under his breath, eyeing the duo critically in his peripheral. 

“They’re only trying to divert attention from their own incompetence,” Regulus returns his gaze to Pandora, feeling apologetic over her needing to concentrate twice as hard because of the distracting background noise. 

Pandora hums in agreement but keeps her main focus on the crystal ball until she’s finally able to conjure up a light grey cloud. The achievement steals Regulus’ attention – he’s always been fascinated by his friend’s ability in the subject; she makes the practice more believable to the pale Slytherin and the lessons more interesting to partake in.

“What was that, Black?!” one of the temperamental duo snaps, having heard Regulus’ snide comment. It wasn’t appreciated and the tension in the air suddenly came alive with the heated rage emanating from their combative classmates. But Regulus pays his aggressor no mind; he kept his attention solely on Pandora and the ball, which now swirled with a stormy cloud compared to the previous light grey — it took the concentration of both people to make the task work and Regulus wasn’t going to put his friend’s efforts to waste. “Hey! I’m talkin’ to you—!” upset at being ignored so flippantly, the classmate reaches over and pushes their table. 

Suddenly, the crystal ball was flung off its stand, propelled by the forceful jolt and sent crashing to the stone floor. It was a majestic disaster with glass pieces sent flying across the cold stone as the stormy cloud from within the ball was released into the air in a screen of opaque, dark-grey smoke. All attention is on the emitted fumes and gasps can be heard about the room as the cloud begins to create a clear picture, painted in vibrant colours so that all witnesses had no doubts about what they were seeing.

The smoke formed the undeniable image of Regulus, only, this version of him looked a little older. But he had the same elegant nose, perfectly permed hair, steel-grey eyes and sharp features. It was, without question, Regulus. The only difference was his serene smile. It looked natural on this older Regulus’ face, his features appearing to melt into the expression as another figure emerged. 

It was you. 

“Merlin’s beard, is that their future?” Regulus hears a faraway whisper. It grounds him in the realisation that he might be seeing what his life entails with you in the picture. Unable to breathe or move, Regulus continues to watch what plays out before him like a man possessed. Because, maybe this had the answers. He can no longer deny that you were an important person to him. But will that entail withdrawn yearning or a shared warmth? 

Everyone watches as an older version of you appears before Regulus. You look so beautiful, mature and with an elegance that elevates your existing beauty. The way you look at Regulus makes it seem as if he had swiped all your troubles away; your beaming countenance conveys your carefree spirit while your smiling eyes convey a deep devotion to the Regulus you hold your hand up to cup the face of. 

Regulus watches as he leans into your touch, eyes closed and with a peaceful smile on his face. He says something, then you say something and you’re leaning up further so that your noses are touching and your lips are mere centimeters away from each other’s. His heart almost stops beating in his chest at this point. But you take it one step further by tilting your head and pulling the image of him into a deep, heartfelt kiss. Squeals of delight were heard throughout the room, mostly from the girls as the guys quietly gasped, unable to realise that such a contented version of their usually stoic Slytherin classmate could exist. 

It was at that moment that Regulus remembers Pandora’s earlier words: there’s no need to distance yourself from someone who brings you such peace. Regulus finally understands. All this time, he was being selfish. He was selfish by denying his happiness while simultaneously denying your happiness too. It wasn’t his intention but that was what he had been doing and the guilt that pinched at his heart was painful. How could he deny such a cheerful and innocent person something as wonderful as happiness? 

He was ashamed. But as he watched you and his future self embrace each other tightly before pulling away to look into each other’s eyes, something began to tug at the strings of his heart. It was a yearning, a craving, a desperate need to see you and hold you and pull you into a kiss he only plans to deepen and never pull away from.  

Future Regulus has his arms wrapped around your waist as your hands hold his face at either side, your fingers twitching in the temptation to comb through his inky, curled locks. It seemed like forever before you finally pulled away from one another and future Regulus leaned back to flick his wand, accio-ing a bouquet into his hands. 

With fond eyes, Regulus watches your future self’s reaction as if he were the one to bring you the flowers and not the future version of him. He savours the bright smile across your kiss-coloured lips and the little jumps you do. Cute. You always jumped like that to express your cute joy. It’s so incredibly endearing, no wonder his future self was entranced and fully committed to bringing you simple joys over and over again. The edges of the scene begin to fade as the cloud becomes lighter and lighter in colour. Eventually, the vibrant colours of the scene begin to bleach out just as you hold the flowers to your face for a shy smell of the blossoms. The image fully bleeds away just as everyone witnesses future Regulus bring your spare hand up to his lips, where he kisses your knuckles while his chin brushes against your wedding ring. All the while, his own, matching marriage band glistens on his ring finger. 

The class is silent as the professor vanishes the smoke completely and broken glass pieces with a flick of his wand. 

“50 POINTS TO RAVENCLAW AND SLYTHERIN!” everyone is jolted from their frozen states at the booming elation of their divination professor, “Congratulations on a successful future reading Miss Pandora and Mr Black,” he turns to the argumentative student from earlier and remarks somewhat patronisingly, “your pair could learn a thing or two from that,”

The gossip chain was immediately in motion after the class. By the time dinner had arrived for everyone, the entire school was privy to what had happened and Regulus was on the lookout for any indication that you may have heard the news too. 

“WhAT?!” James Potter’s incredulous squawk of disbelief was heard by everyone and Regulus had to bite back a smirk. Trust Potter to make things obvious – if James knows then you know too. “THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING! NOOOO!” James’ protesting sobs soon became incoherent as he slumped against the dinner table, those closest to him patting his back as others avoid his theatrics completely, wanting to have a normal dinner for once. Some things were coherent enough such as: ‘corrupted’, ‘married’, ‘please no’, ‘never let it happen’, and ‘not her’. All were expressed in varying degrees of distress and despair, as expected from someone who took it upon himself to adopt you as his baby sister despite the absence of any blood relation. 

For now, Regulus can wait, he can hold his tongue, and he can keep himself from reaching out and pulling you into a long embrace. He had yet to apologise for his pathetic behaviour – what was he thinking distancing himself from you, thinking it would keep you safe when that only leaves the two of you vulnerable and deprived of the future you had the potential to share. 

Looking over, he watches with fond eyes as you comfort James in a vain attempt to distract yourself from the gossip and becoming overly flustered. You’re too precious. He’ll allow himself one full day; he can, at least, keep himself away that long to help you digest what happened. 

Appearing to sense his lingering gaze, you look up and meet his eyes. As predicted, you’re immediately flustered and look away but not without trying to face him again and offer your usual warm smile. It’s as if you’re telling him it’s okay, that you’re okay with what’s happened and what it all means for you. You look adorable, so cute and sweet. Why do you have to look like that and torture him further?!

No… he can’t last a full day. 

He won’t even make it past the hour.  

navi.

A/N : why is it that I’m inspired at the most inconvenient times? I couldn’t go to sleep because I had this scenario stuck in my head until I finally gave up and decided to write it on the spot at 3am. It’s super cute so I hope you darlings like it too hehe~ 

please like, comment and reblog to show your support, i'd really appreciate it! property of kquil ; all written content is mine and no one else's unless stated otherwise ; do not steal, plagiarise, modify or translate to other sites

[thekqipond]

DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER FIVE

05 : SIRIUS : FIRST DAY

CHPT. SUM. : Sirius goes to Hogwarts and his sorting causes a stir at school and at home.

LENGTH : 11.8k

TAGS : fluff ; hurt/comfort ; marauders origins dob ver. ; friendship beginnings ; mini-therapy session with the sorting hat ; regulus being a cutie ; sirius finding his place ; regulus needs a hug ; first day at hogwarts ; orion being the worst husband and father ever ; momma bear reader ; not canon compliant

← PREV. | 04 : BEGINNINGS | SERIES M.LIST

1st September 1971

Sirius smiles faintly at his younger brother, the two of them separated by the window of the Hogwarts Express. For a moment, all of the excitement that had been bouncing around in his stomach suddenly compressed into a weighted ball of anxiety. Hogwarts was going to be a fun, new adventure, you had reassured him of such that morning, however, seeing Regulus looking up at him through the window made his stomach drop into an unknown abyss.

"Take care, Siri," Regulus smiles toothily, having to tilt his chin up to see his older brother better. He didn't want to forget a single detail about how his brother looked. It was an unreasonable fear but Regulus was scared stiff over forgetting a single thing about his older brother.

"'Course! You take care too, Reg," Sirius looks up at you for a moment but you don't meet his eyes, seemingly distracted by something that catches your eye in the crowd, "I know Mother is different now but I'm worried about you..."

Shocked by his brother's concern, Regulus feels a small urge to look over his shoulder and observe you in the hopes that the swelling of apprehension in his stomach can settle, somewhat. It's easy to trust you now but it's also just as easy to fall back on being guarded, for his own self-protection — with Sirius gone, his only brother, who often acts as his shield and protector, fear is one stray, all-consuming thought away from devouring them both. They've never been without the other for any extended period of time. This was going to be a first.

"I know..." Regulus nervously tugs on the hem of his sleeves, trying to ground himself with the action, "but I don't think she'll change back... and besides, I have Kreacher," Sirius' lips pull into a thin line. Yes, he's started getting along with the house elf a lot better recently, mainly due to Regulus and his mother's influence but Sirius knows the truth. If Kreacher was ever forced to choose between Regulus and his mother, Kreacher would pick you, the Matriarch of the Black family. His little brother is too naive and soft-hearted for his own good.

"Write to me if anything goes wrong, okay?" Regulus only nods before they silently decide to let go of the tense subject and, at least, part on a lighter note, "I promise I'll write to you about everything that happens, I won't miss a single detail!" the two grin at each other, "By the time I come back, you'll be an expert about Hogwarts and you won't be fumbling around and making mistakes like me on your first year,"

A sharp whistle tears through the air and the brothers share a tearful look before Regulus rushes back to cling onto your skirt, the both of you keeping your eyes solely on Sirius whose heart can't stop clenching — in distress or excitement, he cannot fathom what the emotion behind it all is. In the distance, he watches his mother's lips move to form the words 'I love you'. It's like she's whispering it to him, loving and kind and full of warmth, like the wonderful mother she's suddenly become. Just one month... he wishes you had been whispering that endearment to him for longer than that.

Despite his worries about what may happen to Regulus in his absence, Sirius meets your eyes with a smile and whispers an 'I love you' back. Deep in his chest, his heart settles in content, happy and blissfully optimistic over your disposition. Your eyes hold such bountiful amounts of love, that he feels slightly ashamed for thinking the worst of you. There's no way you would dare lay a hand on Regulus the way you used to, in a cruel means to elicit 'appropriate' behaviour. Not when you adored cuddling him so much, not when you adored pressing soft kisses into his head of curls, not when you catered to his preferences for every meal ever since that fateful day, and especially not when you would always be the first to step in between him and their father during every irate spat.

The train begins to move away from the platform, leaving you and his brother behind but Sirius occupies his seat unworried. His little brother and mother are good with each other. They're perfectly fine. Looking around him, Sirius observes the completely empty compartment aside from himself.

As the train journey continues, he stays alone. Anyone who pops their head in immediately turns away at the sight of him, fumbling with the half-hearted excuse of already having found an empty cabin elsewhere. He almost rolls his eyes at their behaviour. His family was feared for their status and 'etiquette' but that didn't mean he was the same, he was still a kid. Then again, those who peaked in were kids too...

This was going to be a long journey.

James Potter wasn't one to waste time, he was a doer. So when he finds himself unable to find a free cabin along with another two blokes, both rather shorter than him, one with brown hair, who's swamped under a grandpa sweater while the other adorns sandy-blonde locks and a neatly pressed polo shirt with slightly tattered ends, he takes charge. He leads them from one end of the train to the other, all in the search for a free cabin. The hunt was looking bleak at first but that was another thing about James Potter, he wasn't one to easily give up... even when the only cabin that seemed available was the one occupied by Sirius Black.

"Do you mind if we sit with you?" James asks, trying to mask his tense attitude towards the pureblood wizard, "It's full everywhere else,"

"Go ahead," Sirius smiles with a slight tension to his shoulders as well, gesturing to the empty seats around him. James sits directly opposite Sirius with Peter beside him, while Remus takes the seat opposite Peter and beside Sirius. It appears as though Peter knows who Sirius is and Remus is completely oblivious, his polite but blithe smile directed at the Black family firstborn being the main indicator.

"I'm James Potter," James finally introduces, confident and with his chest. The three greet him back before introducing themselves in return. The round, sandy-blonde bloke was Peter Pettigrew, the brunette dressed like a grandpa was Remus Lupin and the last of them, neat as a pin with paper-pale skin, sharp features and shiny black hair was Sirius Black but most people already knew that.

"Aren't you part of that really old pureblood family?" Remus mentions cooly, as if not understanding the gravity of his question as a muggle-born (or half-blood, James doesn't know yet).

"Yeah," Sirius replies, not appearing too pleased with the observation and remains quiet.

"You'll be in Slytherin then?" Peter blurts without knowing, catching himself only after he's voiced his invasive thought and claps his hands over his running mouth. Beneath his hands, Peter's cheeks glow a bright pink and he avoids all eye contact with everyone in the cabin, his limbs beginning to shake in fear the longer Sirius holds off on answering to his thoughts.

"I don't really want to end up there," Sirius shrugs and turns to stare out the window, perfectly happy to occupy himself with the passing scenery. He's fed up with everyone's judgemental attitude. Can't a single person give him a chance?! He isn't asking for the world!

James was shocked, "Really?!" it made him stammer how far he'd misjudged the Black family's first son.

"I'm not like the rest of my family,"

"Thank Merlin!" James dramatically sags his shoulders in relief before grinning toothily and leaning forward to clap Sirius over the shoulder, "I thought you'd be another dark pureblood prick with a stiff lip and no sense of humour,"

The tension is completely broken as soon as Sirius throws his head back and laughs without restraint, clutching his belly and shaking at the shoulders with mirth. Even Peter is relieved at Sirius' reaction, momentarily pausing in his frantic rummaging through his shoulder bag. Remus only seems to have realised the previous tension in the air from the dramatic shift it takes but continues smiling anyway, this time with more ease than before.

Sirius returns his grinning gaze to James, who mirrors his expression, "Not a prick and definitely not stiffed lip. Sense of humour, you'll have to find out later on," all those high society wizard dinners, events and soirees could have been spent in better company, James and Sirius realised. If only they dared to approach each other sooner, without their family's prejudices hanging over them, puppeteering their actions. They could have shared laughter, made fun of the boring atmosphere and become close friends. But regrets like these were minimal in the grand scheme of things. They had a full year at Hogwarts to make up for it and grow the friendship they'd missed out on.

It's then that Sirius' vision is suddenly invaded by Peter's outstretched hand and a singular, colourfully wrapped chocolate on his palm, "I'm sorry for speaking out like that," Sirius smiles and accepts the gift happily.

"You're not bad, Peter,"

Seemingly spurred on by Sirius' show of forgiveness and kindness, Peter launches into a joke he had memorised for the sake of calming his nerves at the thought of struggling to make any friends, "Hey, so why do you think toddlers are so bad at magic?"

His statement seems to be taken seriously by the three boys at first as they ponder thoughtfully for a moment. But ultimately, with no answer in mind, they shake their heads and look to the portly bloke for the solution.

"Why?" Remus prompts.

"Because they can't spell!"

It was a bad joke, so bad that Remus released a small giggle while James and Sirius laughed boisterously, more so at Peter's expectant expression than the joke itself. They couldn't believe that he thought that joke would land well but his eagerness to elicit laughter was all they needed to lose themselves in the merriment. The four of them quickly dive into meaningless but fun conversations, sometimes splitting off into conversing pairs before returning to speak as a group again. Remus tended to be quiet and leaked a more nervous disposition than others whereas Peter eagerly tried to partake in whatever conversation was around, trying to land more jokes and input his opinion wherever, even if the mismatch of tone and timing wasn't always ideal. James and Sirius were the most enthusiastic and smoothly went from one subject to the next, it was a seamless river of constant conversation that was occasionally interrupted by chewing on the delicious treats carted over by the trolley lady, as well as the need for easy silence — a necessary, trouble-free pause.

Hours passed like this and eventually, an older prefect was knocking on their compartment door to peek in and ask that they change into their school robes.

"We'll be arriving soon,"

Everyone's robes were black and didn't adorn any of the Hogwarts house colours. For now, they were a small group of friends, eagerly awaiting their new chapter of life to begin.

Sirius stood on the edge of the lake as a deep sense of anticipation churned within him, replacing the excitement evoked by getting dressed on the train. Pulling on those robes and seeing his mother's capricious but careful stitches brought a realness to the situation — he was going to be attending the most prestigious wizarding school in all of England. It felt surreal but oh so tangible from where he stood.

The small boats that would ferry the many first years across to Hogwarts bob gently in the water before them, each one enchanted to move with a simple command. Beside him, Remus, James and Peter also look forward with James appearing to be the only one still in possession of his earlier eagerness. The journey to Hogwarts was incredibly long and, by now, it was already nighttime. There was a chill in the air as the sky draped over them, coloured in the deepest twilight hue with a scattering of stars spread across it. Looming ahead was the prodigious silhouette of Hogwarts Castle. Its many turrets and towers stretched up, trying to pierce the sky as its many windows were alit with a golden glow from within — inviting and warm and magical. Once again, the excitement was back...

It appears as though the constant fight between his enthusiasm and terror of the unknown will be giving him unsteady feet and fidgeting hands for the rest of the night.

Rubeus Hagrid, the half-giant gamekeeper and groundskeeper steps into a boat with his rusty, incandescent lantern and encourages the first years to follow along behind him. Everyone was to be seated in one of the many boats as a group, some as strangers, some as newly made friends. Luckily Sirius had already found his group of friends and they were one of the first to follow along behind the half-giant. Peter was a bit scared to step into the boat but with some encouragement and light teasing, they were soon setting sail with everybody else.

"See? It's not so bad, is it, Peter?" James grins, catching sight of the sandy blonde's entranced expression as he gazes into the lake's glimmering, moonlit waters.

"We don't even need to paddle," Sirius shares a look with James and the two grin widely.

Peter musters a taut smile and nods, attempting to calm his racing heart. He seems to finally find some comfort in the glittering waters below them, "Y-yeah, not so bad,"

"Be careful not to lean too far over the edge though," Remus warns politely, "overtipping the balance might capsize the boat," Peter pales and hastily rights himself, earning a chuckle from everyone on board.

"Capsizing the boat, huh? What an adventure that will be!" James laughs brightly. He's a carefree spirit, one that Sirius can't help but be entranced by. Being around James is addictive. It's a new experience being in the presence of someone so opposite to his family's disreputable 'noble' ways. It's gotten a lot better because of his mother's recent change of heart but James is the type of person who elicits a lasting impression. Looking around the small boat they share, Sirius can tell that he's not the only one; Peter and Remus seem to be just as enchanted by the messy-haired boy's charm.

Steadily approaching Hogwarts makes the castle's colossal size more apparent. It's a massive, ancient structure that breathes with so much magic, that there's an evident vibration in the air surrounding it that makes the hairs on his skin stand up. Seeing the impressive castle in person was overwhelming but in the best way. A feeling of adventure begins to bubble in Sirius' lower belly and slowly begins to rise through him — a feverish anticipation for what he may get up to within its stone walls. It's a place where he can be truly free... finally. His mother's new attitude has been a solace and a comfort and has given him a small taste of what freedom was like but there was always the danger of his ill-tempered father. Here, Sirius feels as though he can finally, truly be free.

What a feeling...

Beneath the castle were a set of docks that the boats smoothly slid into. Hagrid was already out of his boat and holding his lantern up by the time they managed to reach him followed by the other first years. After clambering out of their buoyant vessels, Hagrid proceeds to lead everyone up a winding path, all the way up to the castle's front entrance. Its large front doors creak open and they were quickly ushered into the Entrance Hall. The vast space was cool but also warmed by the fire torches strategically placed about the perimeter, their dancing flames casting across the polished stone and giving rise to the first years' blended shadows. There's an apprehensive but electrifying buzz in the air as Hagrid bids them a temporary farewell, leaving them to a teacher.

Professor Minerva McGonagall is who she introduces herself as, the deputy headmistress and head of Gryffindor House. No wonder she was the one tasked with leading them into the Great Hall. She stands as a figure of authority and elegance.

McGonagall was not yet old. Her sharp, angular features were softened slightly by the subtle laugh lines framing her observant eyes — she isn't a stranger to smiling, though Sirius was finding it a little difficult to envision her with a grin. Her hair was a deep brown that pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck, with not a single strand out of place. Her meticulous appearance only added to the impression that she was someone who did not tolerate nonsense. And yet, there was something about her that made Sirius believe she wasn't just a disciplinarian. There was an underlying warmth to her, hidden by her strict exterior as a prestigious Hogwarts professor. It's a warmth that spoke of the deep affection and care held for her students. He could see it in her eyes the same way he saw it in his changed mother's eyes — although sharp, they seemed to soften ever so slightly when looking over the younger students.

Her robes were made of a rich and heavy fabric, a dark emerald green that was almost regal in its fashion when draping over her silhouette. She moved with a grace that tactically concealed the strictness in her demeanour, each step was purposeful and her posture remained impossibly straight — the kind that his previous etiquette teacher desperately tried to force upon him, with no such luck; he was too stubborn for his own good, and he had the faded welts to prove it.

"Behind these doors is the Great Hall. And it is where you shall be sorted into your houses. There are four: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin," she explains briefly, "I will call out your name and one by one, you shall be seated and sorted by the sorting hat before the student body. You shall then sit with your house where you will wait until everyone is sorted and then we can have the opening dinner," she spoke with a clear and precise voice that had a very slight Scottish lilt to it, making her spoken words crisp and authoritative. Her voice was similar to the one his mother once had, it was the kind that cut through the chatter of a room with ease, immediately silencing those she cast her unwavering gaze upon. His mother's voice has since become much warmer and gentler as of late. And, although such an imperious voice usually made Sirius stiffen up with alertness, McGonagall didn't prompt any sort of reaction from him. She embodied a form of discipline he was familiar with but there was something more to her, and she balanced those opposing features very well.

With that, McGonagall led the group of first years into the Great Hall. Above him, the ceiling was enchanted to mirror the night sky he had just witnessed on the boat across the Black Lake, however, instead of blinking, distant stars, the night sky of the Great Hall was illuminated by floating candles. Four long tables stretched and occupied a vast amount of space in the large room. Most of the chairs by the tables were predominantly occupied except for the ones closest to the front of the room, near where the teachers had their own table, gazing over the students and smiling fondly at the first years walking in for the first time, led by the deputy headmistress.

The many students that were already seated were dressed in similar black robes but had embellishments of differing colours, colours that differentiated them into their different houses, one red, another, blue, the other, yellow and finally green. The students' eyes eagerly followed the newcomers, the youngest in the large pond that was Hogwarts. To the front of the hall, there was a raised platform with a singular stool on it, where an old hat sat — the sorting hat.

Sirius's heart pounded violently against his chest as he assembled behind the stool with the rest of the first years. McGonagall stepped up to the left of the stool and was given a scroll of parchment that listed all the names of the first years who were to be sorted. Without wasting a second, she immediately began to call them out. It was in alphabetical order according to surnames so Sirius knew that he would be one of the first to be sorted. Nevertheless, the few that came before him had a very welcoming experience. It was simple enough. Once seated, the hat would be placed on their head and after some time or very little time at all, the hat's voice boomed through the hall, echoing its final and irrevocable decision of where the student should be housed. The student was then met with the loud and welcoming cheers of their fellow housemates, who eagerly beckoned them over to their table while the head of house clapped and smiled from their seat by the rest of the staff.

Sirius's hands clenched into tight fists as he waited. The tension paralysing his limbs was unbearable. He knew what was to be expected of him. Slytherin, like all the Blacks before him. But the thought of even joining that house, of being surrounded by the same cold, pureblood superiority that he had grown up with made his intestines knot themselves up and his stomach fall into a bottomless pit. However, inside him raged an inner battle... Sirius remembers the kind softness of his reformed mother, the vivid image appearing in his head along with the ghost of her warm embrace and loving kisses — he didn't want to disappoint her. He's been granted such happiness by her recently, he didn't want to have that stolen away from him all too suddenly because of his house sorting. He wouldn't know what to do if he should be faced with the familiar disappointment and rage in her eyes once more—

Suddenly, his name was called.

"Black, Sirius!"

Silence swept the hall as Sirius stepped forth. Hundreds of eyes lingered on him all judging and wondering and evident with the same supposition he had grown up with — Slytherin. He even saw some eyes drift away after the initial call of his name. It was as if they knew what would come of the sorting and felt he didn't need the assistance of the hat to be put in a house.

As Sirius climbed the steps and sat on the stool, bitterness over the expectation placed on him, not just by his family but by complete strangers too lit his heart ablaze with stubborn denial and renunciation of the elitist house. The hat decedent far enough to cover his eyes, done past his nose, blackening out the rest of the world as the hat's voice began to ring between his ears and within his mind.

"Ah, another Black," the hat mused thoughtfully, "But not— your mind is different, you, yourself are different, aren't you? Not like the other Blacks..." The statement from the hat makes Sirius' heart skip a beat and soar higher than the sky. It was a relief, a validation of his circumstance that he deeply yearned for without even knowing until that moment. He lets the words echo in his ears and hopes to permanently stamp them into his brain. "And you're happy about that are you?" the hat chuckles, somewhat, condescendingly at him, "But you're plenty cunning and ambitious too, much like your many kinsfolk," his heart stutters in his chest again, this time with dread. The hat's words steal his breath and make his mind race with alarm. There's a pause, the hat seeming to delight in Sirius' inner conflict, his scrambled mind being the perfect entertainment for the tattered garment, "And yet, it cannot be denied how different you are, also," Sirius calms ever so slightly, able to breathe again, "yes, brave... with a fierce independence. You want to prove yourself, that's very easy to tell, to be more than what they expect or is it merely petty disobedience?"

Sirius holds his breath once more.

"Well then," the hat says decisively, its voice doubling and suddenly coming from two places at once, "it better be... GRYFFINDOR!"

His irrefutable house placement was shouted aloud, the shock giving way to a momentary, extension of silence before the hall erupts into massive applause. Sliding out from under the hat's cone body, a broad grin splits across Sirius' face.

Gryffindor! Not Slytherin!

He rushes down the steps and hurries to the Gryffindor table, who cheer wildly and smile broadly at him becoming a member. They were happy, cheering and in celebration of him. The moment he sits down, he's immediately bombarded with congratulatory slaps on the back and introductions. A boy who looked a little older than him clapped him on the shoulder with a bright grin, "Welcome to Gryffindor, mate!"

"Thanks," Sirius replied, breathless from the experience. A weight had lifted from his shoulders. For the first time in his life, he was presented with solid evidence that he was nothing like his many other rotten family members, and it felt... incredible.

The sorting ceremony continued without pause and Sirius eagerly awaited for the sorting of the friends he had made on the train. Lupin, Remus a little while after him (Gryffindor). Pettigrew, Peter came soon enough (Gryffindor). Right after him, Potter, James was sorted (Gryffindor). All of them were sorted into the proud house of the lion, symbolising bravery and courage, their robes immediately donning scarlet and golden accents.

"What luck!" James expresses as soon as he sits by them again. They share a look, their eyes twinkling and their grins pinned high up on their youthful cheeks. To think that they would be in the same house after becoming friends on the train!

Curiously, Sirius glances back at the other tables, quickly skimming over the blues and yellows to land on green accents. The Slytherins pinned him with narrowed eyes, their expressions ranging from surprise to outright disdain. Their transparent judgement, however, was easy to ignore, he wanted nothing to do with them anyway. Instead, he focuses on his fellow Gryffindors, his found family at Hogwarts. These were his people now, and he was determined to prove himself worthy of the lion's crest on his chest.

The feast began shortly after the last student was sorted. The tables were filled with an array of food that made Sirius' mouth water. Roasted chicken, platters of mashed potatoes, steaming bowls of vegetables, and an assortment of pies and puddings appeared before him — all accumulating into a delicious combined fragrance. There was no hesitation when it came to piling his plate high with every dish his heart desired. The food looked delicious but...compared to the loving and hearty meals his mother had been cooking for him the past month, only the sheer amount he was able to consume was able to satiate him after the long journey. The carefully curated flavours and the touch of a mother's love weren't there anymore. He supposes not everything can be perfect. Thankfully, the atmosphere was alive with chatter and laughter, an infectious combination that distracted him easily.

The night wore on, the food slowly disappearing from the tables, and when many of the students were no longer occupied by their food the Headmaster finally saw it fit to make his welcoming speech. Albus Dumbledore rose from his place at the staff table, surrounded by his many other professor colleagues and calls for silence. Almost immediately, the room quieted and all eyes were trained on him.

"Welcome," Dumbledore begins, his voice ancient like a dust-covered book but amiable, "welcome to Hogwarts, to those of you who have just started, I hope that the reception was favourable. And to those returning, hopefully, you are just as thrilled to spend another year with us as we are. I trust that after the long journey and heartily filled bellies, you are all ready for bed." He raises an arm and prompts the rise of several older students donning embellished badges decorated with their house colours, "your prefects will be the ones to escort you to your dorms,"

A password is required to gain access to the Gryffindor common room where only Gryffindor students are allowed. The password this time is 'sola libertas' (solitary freedom). It was exciting like having a secret place nobody else was allowed into except Sirius and his many other Gryffindor brethren.

"Your dorm rooms would have already been assigned to you and your luggage, moved accordingly," the prefect begins telling the first years as the older students head to their respective dorms, already assigned to them in their first year. Sirius can't help but feel slightly anxious at the idea that he may have to depart from his already close group of friends. Looking around, Peter, Remus and James appear to share the same sentiment; at least he wasn't alone in that regard, "these shall be your dorm room assignments for your entire education at Hogwarts. The boys' dormitories are on the left, up the staircase and down, the girls are the same but on the right," Sirius would have eagerly taken in the aesthetics of his new house's common room if he wasn't so anxious about who he would be sharing a dorm with for his entire seven years at Hogwarts. Rushing up the left staircase and down another set, he quickly finds the dormitories and goes searching for where his belongings should be, however, there wasn't any need to. On a few of the dorm room doors were a piece of paper that listed the new students that were to occupy the space. The dorms that didn't have a piece of paper attached presumably belonged to the older students who were already settled in.

Sirius scans the first door but doesn't find his name or any of the others. The second door, however, made him grin brightly. Looking over his shoulder, he attempts to turn and call out to his three new friends but is met with their curious expressions and already-approaching figures.

Catching sight of Sirius' grin, James breaks out into a light sprint, matching Sirius' grin with one of his own, "are we all sharing a dorm then?"

"You bet we are!" With a cheer, the two raise their arms to drape across one another's shoulders before facing Peter and Remus together. As soon as the remaining two heard the good news, all of them were eager to step inside and begin unpacking.

Entering the rather generous space, they find that their sleeping arrangements have already been chosen for them with their trunks placed at the foot of their beds. Everyone had a single bed to their name, a desk area, a full-length mirror, a wardrobe, a bedside table and a tall, standing lamp at their other bedside. One side of the dorm had tall windows to let in some natural light but it seemed as though a majority of their lighting would be coming from the lamps or candelabras littered about the room. At the centre of the space was a freestanding, cast iron fire heater to keep everybody warm on cold days. Most of the room was left sparse for them to decorate as they wished, there were even some empty plant pots available for those with green thumb hobbies. Or maybe it was in anticipation of a future herbology project? Nevertheless, the space was cosy and Sirius immediately felt at home as he began to unpack his things with the rest of the boys, occasionally joining in idle conversation to pass the silence.

James brought up the question of what everyone would like to do for the rest of tonight, other than unpacking. Remus was happy to just sit and read before bed, Peter simply shrugged his shoulders, already appearing exhausted by the day's events. It was up to James and Sirius to commence a game of exploding snap.

2nd September 1971

You've already sent off Sirius' letter, congratulating him on a job well done for his first day, you've even included a little gift to commemorate his sorting into Gryffindor. Thankfully, you thought to arrange everything in advance or else you wouldn't have gotten it to him on time – the prototype stage was very tedious but incredibly worth it. You only hope Sirius sees your effort and wears it religiously or else all that work would have been for nothing.

It was lonely to be in the house without him but you and Regulus are managing, it helped a lot that you still had your youngest with you — he was so incredibly precious and sweet; he almost managed to sweep your mind clear of Sirius at some points. Your developed routine didn't change much, once Regulus was in his appointed tutoring session with Peony, you went about your errands, sometimes, it required getting out of the house so you needed to be careful with your timing. You weren't comfortable knowing that, if you were late, Peony would be gone and Regulus would be home alone with his wretched father.

Over time, your sudden change of heart has had an adverse effect on Orion, who wasn't very good at hiding his anger regardless of how much he tried to suppress it. His mounting outrage was set to explode soon enough so you weren't surprised to hear his raging voice booming through number 12 Grimmauld Place, shaking the tenuous walls with his ferocity.

It didn't take a genius to foresee such an outburst and, because you knew about Sirius' sorting beforehand, you easily remained composed in the heat of Orion's violent rage. The sounds that came from his home office were unmistakably the destruction of a vase following the overturning of furniture, as well as the breakage of other miscellaneous things. You couldn't tell the extent seeing as you remained as far away from his office as much as possible, the way one would avoid a radioactive area. Orion himself was made of pure radiation.

Soon enough, Orion's seething figure barrelled out of his office with a force that had the door slamming against the wall. Stepping through, his imposing silhouette was ablaze with dark flames that were rooted to his sizeable, shaking shoulders. He didn't seem satisfied with the rampage he had in his room and immediately went to throw about the hallway furnishings as well. What a baby... (Eye roll).

Regulus should be in the home library reading up on material Peony asked him to review, a diligent and bright student, your perfect baby boy. However, when you turn in the library's direction, you see Regulus peeking out with the most horrified expression you've ever seen. It breaks your heart and quickly make your way over to him, ignoring your pathetic excuse for a husband.

"I'm sorry about your father, dear," you whisper as soon as you get to his side.

"M-mother—" his stutter comes to a stop when he sees you shake your head and observes your soft expression. You've been able to sense his thoughts a lot more clearly, always attentive to his needs and wants, like a good mother should. You assume he was feeling at fault for his father's rage when he couldn't be further from the truth.

Just in case, you reiterate the fact to him, "It's not your fault, sweetheart," bringing him into an embrace, you give his shaking figure an assuring squeeze while you press a kiss to his temple, "Let's go to your room, okay? Ignore your father," you didn't wait for an answer and whispered a 'muffliato' charm around his ears. Rather than hearing his pathetic father's rage, he is accompanied by you and a slight buzzing sound whilst traversing the hallway from the library to his bedroom.

You don't immediately release the muffliato charm from Regulus' ears. The first priority was getting him into bed, nice and cosy, the next was soundproofing the room with the imperturbable charm and ensuring that the door was locked, just in case Orion wanted to invade Regulus' space too. As an additional measure, you call for Kreacher and ask him to warn you if Orion ever sets his eyes on Regulus' bedroom, to which the house elf immediately obliges. With everything set, you finally lift the muffliato charm from Regulus.

"What's father upset about, Mother?" Regulus curls in on himself beneath the covers, tucking his chin over his knees as his arms wrap around his covered shins. The sight makes your heart clench painfully. He looked so scared and small, he didn't look like your bright and shining boy anymore... Orion that prick!

"Your father received news of Sirius' house sorting," the dreaded look that crosses Regulus' face saddens you further. You do your best to calm him down by sitting at his bedside and combing your fingers through his hair. "Your father isn't setting the best example by throwing a tantrum over something so trivial," the comment was your attempt at distracting Regulus from the situation, "don't worry about him, okay? He's only being a big baby for throwing such a fuss,"

"H-he can't do anything to Sirius though..." Regulus responds, his mind far too occupied with worry for his older brother, "he's all the way in Hogwarts, Father won't be able to get to him," your youngest's pleading eyes blink up at you for confirmation, seeking comfort. His only comfort is the knowledge of his brother's safety.

"No, he can't," Regulus relaxes ever so slightly as you press another kiss onto the crown of his head, "Not to worry, my dear, everything will be okay," with some gentle prodding, you manage to get Regulus into your lap where you lock him in a comforting embrace and begin to hum a random but soft tune. Your pathetic excuse of a husband should know better than this, he's being such a sensitive little prick. No wonder Sirius had such issues with his anger before you got here. It was all Orion's influence... and probably the original Walburga too.

"What a bad influence he is..." you mutter absentmindedly, the bitterness in your expression tangible.

"You're not talking about Sirius are you?!" Regulus looks up in alarm, pushing against you so he can stare into your eyes and seems to want to pull away completely.

"Of course not," you reassure in a hurry, wanting to curse yourself for being so loose-lipped. He's still pulled away slightly and you thought it best to allow him to return to your embrace in his own time, "I was talking about your father," Regulus watches with observant eyes as you shake your head disapprovingly and tut, "even though Sirius has been angry for a long time, he's gotten much better with managing his emotions, don't you think?" Regulus nods and slowly begins to fold into your arms again, "I bet you that Sirius would respond much better to bad news than your father,"

"...what happened mother?..."

With the happiest smile, you whisper the news against your youngest's soft, inky locks, "Sirius got sorted into Gryffindor,"

Regulus pulls away in shock but his eyes are sparkling with wonder, "really?!"

"Really,"

"That makes him the first one ever in our family,"

Nodding enthusiastically, the both of you share a smile, "yes it does, aren't you proud of your big brother?" you ask with a giggle. Naturally happy for Sirius, Regulus nods without missing a beat.

"You're proud of him too, mother?" you almost miss Regulus' concerned tone due to your own excitement.

"Always," you hold him close and squeeze him once more, "I'll always be proud of my beautiful sons. Seeing the two of you grow into your personalities and into men will always be cause for celebration," Regulus wraps his arms around your shoulders and presses his face into the base of your neck, inhaling the new fragrance against your skin — his mother never used to wear such gentle fragrances, Regulus doesn't believe his mother ever used to wear fragrance at all but having such a pretty and pleasant scent to associate you with after your change of heart makes him so happy.

"You won't be mad if I'm sorted into a different house like Sirius, right?"

"Never." you were resolute and felt the smile curling Regulus' lips against your skin.

"Not even if I'm in Gryffindor too?"

His cheekiness makes you laugh freely, "It'll be tough being outnumbered by two Gryffindors but even then... even then, I'll be so proud and so happy for both of you,"

Your moment is broken by the sudden appearance of Kreacher who warns you of Orion's approaching figure, as promised. The warning has you jumping to your feet and tucking Regulus back into bed. His small hand reaches for your own and you easily weave your fingers together for comfort.

BANG!

For the man to have the audacity to kick at Regulus' door makes your blood boil. Living in such a magical world, you know that the door wouldn't stay locked forever so you step over to block Regulus' view of Orion, subsequently hiding Regulus and keeping him from the danger that was his father's irate gaze.

"LOCKING DOORS MY HOUSE?!"

"Get out, Orion," you order plainly and with an unamused expression.

"WHAT?!"

"Regulus and I have every right to lock our doors if we don't want your company, especially when it's so unpleasant. Now, get out,"

Ignoring your words, Orion steps to the side and makes direct eye contact with Regulus, who begins to shake. His small hand clenched around your fingers with such force that your circulation gets obstructed but you pay it no mind – whatever he needs to feel safe in that moment.

"If you don't go to Slytherin, you're going to be as big of a disappointment as your no-good brother!"

"Orion!" you shout in disbelief, too shocked at the asshole's audacity to do much else.

"You shan't go anywhere else! I'll throw you into the vault for an entire month otherwise! And then you're gone from this family! DO YOU HEAR ME?! LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M SPEAKING TO YOU REGULUS!"

Rushing forward, you push Orion back with such force, that he almost makes it out of the door. And before he can protest, you continue pushing him until he is out in the hallway. If it wasn't for Regulus being there, you would have clobbered him the good 'muggle' way but you had to set a good example for Regulus and managed to repress your emotions until the bedroom door was closed. Finally, you and Orion were alone in the hallway.

"Walburga you—!"

"Calm yourself, Orion! You're frightening Regulus and you're frightening me! Stop it this instant!" Orion looks at you with utter disbelief, his eyes, still ablaze with anger, gradually mixed with swirling pools of shock and perplexity. The woman who stands before him is not the wife he married and disciplined his sons with.

"Have you not read the letters?!" Orion tries to put logic behind your actions, his befuddlement completely disorienting him — thankfully, he's managed to lower his voice, somewhat.

"Of course I have!" you hiss, lying through your teeth. The night of Sirius' first day, the letters already started to pour in but you hadn't opened a single one, already knowledgeable of the news you were going to receive from them. With a dramatic huff, Orion crosses his arms and looks at you with an expression of 'well?', silently asking you to explain yourself but instead, you're turning away completely. "I'll be right back," I have something more important to address right now.

"Walb—!" you pay the bastard no attention and re-enter Regulus' room. On his bed, you find your youngest shaking in fear and with the most distraught expression you've ever seen him wear. His appearance peaking out from the library couldn't match the astronomical distress he was now experiencing.

Regulus is definitely more important right now...

"Don't worry, my darling," you whisper, embracing him as soon as you seat yourself at his bedside once more, "let mommy handle him. You're going to be alright, I promise. I won't ever let him harm you or your brother," kissing his forehead, you call for Kreacher once more and request that he keep Regulus company while you have a talk with Orion.

"Kreacher will be happy to stand by the young master Regulus," in your peripheral, you see the two share a small smile with Regulus's coming out much more hesitant and shaky. He's such a sweet, brave boy it makes your heart swell with pride but also ache with remorse that he's having to be like this at such a young age.

"I'll be right back, dear," you make sure to give him another kiss on the forehead before leaving. In your periphery, you glimpse Kreacher reaching out to take his young master's hand.

"How dare you speak to my son that way!" you finally burst with rage, pointing an accusatory finger at Orion and poking into his chest with your nail repeatedly, "Threatening him is not the right way to raise him! Leave Regulus out of this! I can't believe you're throwing such a huge tantrum over a school house! You aren't setting a good example! You should be ashamed of yourself!"

Orion, despite his bafflement, is quick to talk back with just as much bite and snark, "What in the world are you talking about?! Are you telling me that you're willing to accept that our son was sorted into Gryffindor?!" Orion is shocked at his wife's hypocrisy. There was a mounting urge within him to confront her new attitude, however, the matter of Sirius' sorting was much more urgent for the time being.

"It's a Hogwarts house, Orion, it's not the end of the world," his jaw hits the floor but you simply roll your eyes at him, "Our blood running through his veins is enough. Knowing that he's our son is enough. He should be free to live in the house the sorting hat puts him into — and you should be happy, being sorted into Gryffindor means that Sirius is brave and chivalrous, both are amazing qualities for our son to have!"

"It also means that he'll be spending most of his time around blood traitors and mudbloods who will surely corrupt his mind!" you try not to outwardly cringe at his use of such derogatory terms, and in such a spiteful tone too. This man is so full of hate and menace – it isn't safe to have him around your sons. "I'm making a trip to Hogwarts tomorrow! Whether you accompany me or not will be your choice! I'm sending the letter to Hogwarts tonight!"

He storms back to his office without allowing you the chance to retort or offer your opinion on the decision. His blatant disregard of you and Regulus makes you bristle with rage, you feel like a cat who tensed up in warning. If he bothers you again for the rest of the day, you'll drop-kick his sorry ass. Thankfully, a few deep breaths were good for placating your annoyance — besides, this occasion gave you the perfect opportunity.

"Kreacher," you call in a calm voice. In a heartbeat, your dedicated house elf stands before you, willing to obey. The smile you wear is a complete contrast to what you ask of him and you almost have to keep yourself from snorting in amusement when his eyes make to pop out of their sockets from shock.

"M-mistress be wantin' a s-s-separate room?"

"Yes, Kreacher," it was plain and simple, "Please transfer all my belongings as well. I won't be able to stand sleeping next to such an idiotic husband," Kreacher flinches at the insult as if it was directed at him personally. The wrinkled house elf has never seen the proud patriarch and matriarch of the Black house argue to the point of demanding separate rooms. It was already such an insult for the Mistress to request a sleeping elsewhere that it was almost unnecessary to call the Master an 'idiot' after that point. "But before that, would you mind clearing up Orion's mess in the hall? — Not his office, however, he can clean that disaster up himself,"

"It be best if Kreacher transfers Mistress' room first t-to avoid Master Orion's wrath..." Kreacher only realises what he's said after he'd already spoken the words. He couldn't believe he had felt comfortable enough—impudent enough to suggest doing the tasks differently to how his mistress directed, it goes against how house elves should behave! Before you can react, Kreacher drops to the floor and grovels at your feet incoherently. You're only able to make out the words 'sorry', 'bad elf' and 'punishment' before Kreacher crawls to the hallway bannister and begins aggressively hitting his head against the railing. The awful sound of his head making contact with the bannister makes you gasp and rush forward to stop him, hauling him back by his small shoulders.

"Kreacher stop that!" you plead, worried eyes falling over his forehead as your hand goes up to gently trace the area, "Goodness, there's no need to punish yourself for making a helpful suggestion, Kreacher," you release a breath of relief when you hardly see any lasting damage. Thankfully he was built tougher than steel. Kreacher continues to look at you with widened eyes and parted lips. First, it was his Master Regulus being kind to a lowly elf like himself, and now, it was his Mistress. He's such a blessed elf, he can't help but feel joy from being given such kindness so freely, "I was going to say that it's a good idea and you should do it in the order you feel is best. But now I demand that you rest for an hour, at least, I'll get you some dittany to put on your bump,"

"K-Kreacher will do it, Mistress! Mistress is already being too kind to this unworthy house elf,"

"Unworthy?" you arch a brow and kneel before the elf with a frown, "Kreacher, you have served me and my family well for many years. Regulus thinks of you as his friend and you've been getting along well with Sirius too. You even put up with my idiotic husband," you offer a gentle smile, "even if you weren't those things, everyone deserves rest and to be treated with care when they are hurt. It'll only take a moment, I'm not angry at you—" you move to stand back up and make your way to the potions cupboard downstairs but Kreacher is already shaking his head in protest.

"Mistress is too kind, Kreacher will do it!" he states firmly and disappears with a snap of his fingers. For a moment, he looked a little taller and not so gloomy. The image makes you smile slightly before sighing in defeat — what a stubborn elf you have.

You have Regulus in your arms once again, the two of you sat atop his bed and against the headboard. Thankfully, Orion hasn't been as disruptive after isolating himself in his office and you were able to lift the imperturbable charm from the door.

"You've got nothing to worry about, my love," combing your fingers through your youngest's dark curls, you whisper the assurance into the air. You've notified him of what Orion plans to do the next day and he immediately freezed up again. It was a reaction you anticipated and wished you didn't have to deliver the news at the foresight, but it was always better to be honest. And you're sure you wouldn't be able to hide the news for long, seeing as his father would be taking action by early morning, tomorrow. "Nothing bad will happen to Sirius, I'll make sure of it,"

Regulus still has his face pressed up against the juncture of your neck and shoulder as he clings to your figure for dear life. His worry was evident and, although it was saddening to see, your heart soared knowing of the close bond the brothers had. You won't allow them to have such a horrible falling out in the future, knowing that they care for each other so deeply, "Sirius is so lucky to have such a caring and thoughtful younger brother like you," Regulus sniffles and pulls away to look at you with glassy eyes, his lip slightly wobbly. He feels guilty for basking in your praise and feeling so happy by it when Sirius was in danger. Gently swiping your thumb under his eye, you whisper an alliance, "Let's promise to protect Sirius together tomorrow, okay?"

"We're going to see him?" Regulus couldn't believe his ears. Hope began to wrap around his heart. The feeling was and allowed him to smile once more, blinking away his tears as he did so.

"Your father insists on it,"

"I thought it was only father going,"

You shake your head and smirk deviously, "we're going too~"

For a moment, Regulus really thought Sirius was going to be harmed by their father but, knowing that you plan on accompanying him, was a comfort. And you planned on taking him with you too! Regulus doesn't know what he'd be capable of doing when it came to protecting his older brother but he had full confidence knowing that you would be there with him. The two of you share a smile — a silent union with the same purpose.

"What would you like me to read to you tonight?" you ask ever so softly, a gentle way of diverting the subject matter for the sake of Regulus' bedtime.

"The Wind in the Willows," Regulus immediately answers. It was an enchanting tale and nothing like the stories from 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard'. Muggles were really creative and, although it was bizarre trying to imagine forest creatures living a lot like how humans live, it was enchanting. Regulus was grateful that you were willing to read him books written by muggles — he wouldn't have known how wonderful their stories were, otherwise.

"You really like that story don't you?" you joke, already accio-ing the book into your hands. It was one of your favourites growing up too and you always dreamed of reading it to your future children. Now that you had Regulus and Sirius for sons, they weren't about to be the exception.

Regulus flushes a soft pink beneath his adorable freckles, "it's just so charming,"

Kissing his temple, you smile and open the book to the first chapter, "I understand, darling, you have amazing taste," he looks away when you send him a wink before finally beginning his favourite storybook. 

2nd September 1971

Breakfast was just as grand of an affair as the previous night’s extravagant first dinner. Again, the food didn’t have as much loving care put into it nor were its tastes carefully curated for his palette, unlike his mother’s home cooking. However, Sirius was still managing to satiate himself with second helpings. Some students were still dressed in their pyjamas for breakfast, which made perfect sense, considering breakfast was from 7:30 to 8:50 in the morning – getting their stomachs filled was far more important than getting dressed earlier than necessary.

“Have you guys tried the pancakes?” Peter raved through a half-eaten mouthful of said pancakes.

“Oh yeah!” James responds, also with a half-eaten mouthful of pancakes. Remus manages a weak laugh at their display, clearly not a morning person as he sips his tea and slowly butters his toast before reaching for the jam. Sirius and the boys, like many other students, were still dressed in their pyjamas from the night before. Morning announcements were relayed to them by their respective house ghosts, who made brief introductions the night before, after dinner and on the way to their common rooms. It was a good thing too, because Sir Nicholas –the ghost for Gryffindor House– had the horrible habit of showcasing his near-headless-ness as if he was tipping a hat in greeting. It was a fascinating sight but not when everyone was enjoying their meal.

“First years are to spend the first half of today with prefects touring the castle,” the ghostly Nicholas announces, thankfully having the decency to repress his usual urge of tipping his head.

“Thank you, Sir Nicholas,” Remus smiles politely over the rim of his tea cup. The ghost nods in acknowledgement before proceeding to the other first years further down the table.

Breakfast continued with the usual chatter between mouthfuls until a slew of hoots permeated the air and owls swooped through with a flourish. Some delivered newspapers to the teachers at the staff table, but groups carried a stack of parchment to the head of each house table before dispersing. Groups of prefects sorted through their respective house stacks, grabbing piles of each and proceeding to hand them over to the other students. For the names they didn’t seem to recognise, the prefects carefully shouted them out and asked for a raised hand. In due time, the boys received their timetables. First-years were told that today was the only exception to the schedule as they were going to receive a tour of the castle from the prefects, who were being overseen by the head boy and head girl. There were excited whispers between those who were especially eager, about doing their best with the tours so that they may be able to become next year’s head boy or girl.

From all the activity, it seemed that most people were finally beginning to blink away the sleep from their eyes and gain some alertness for the day. Sirius thought most of the activity was done with, however, already loading up his plate for his third helping when another hoot sliced through the air. It was Owletta, Sirius’ owl. When everyone looked up, they saw the elegant barn owl swoop down and gracefully deliver Sirius’ letter along with a small, neatly wrapped box. She was gone as quickly as she had entered, all in a looping ribbon of gold and white feathers.

“A letter already?” James asks, the surprise evident in his wide-eyed and jaw-dropped expression, “It looks like you got a gift too, I’m kinda jealous,” he teases as whispers erupt from the Slytherin table.

Sirius turns his chin over his shoulder, curious about the whispers and immediately meets the smirking gaze of his elder cousin, Bellatrix Black. She’s openly snickering at him and doesn’t break away from his stare. Her eyes are dark and challenging, daring him to open his letter and see what’s inside, eliciting a feeling of dread from deep in Sirius’ stomach. The panic and fear and unease had been building since the previous night’s sorting ceremony. It never seemed to calm despite Sirius’ countless efforts to ignore it. He stares down at his letter and the small gift beside it, both vibrating in his hold, appearing to build towards their timely detonation. But they weren’t going to explode… Sirius realised it was because of his own hands shaking.

Surely his mother was disappointed in him, right? That was what the letter would say…but why a gift?

“Aren’t you going to open them?” Remus prompts as the two other boys look on with piqued interest, Peter disregarding his plate to do so.

Sirius does not answer as he continues to observe his postal deliveries. The letter doesn’t appear to be a howler. Instead of the screaming letters’ signature red envelope, his letter was in a simple off-white envelope — a normal letter. His gift was decorated in matte-black wrapping paper. It was wrapped in such a way that the folds crossed over each other in neat and crisp lines, creating a design that was immediately recognised by James.

“That looks like the gifts I got wrapped when buying stuff in Japan on a family holiday,” James alerts with interest, “but it never came with a plant,”

Sirius pulls out the arrow-shaped plant with it’s stems tucked in the crisp folds. It had many small leaves and a slightly bumpy stem, “what plant is this?”

“It looks like a fern to me,” Remus inputs helpfully.

“I see…” Sirius finds himself staring down at his letter and gift once more. He’s stalling.

“It feels too pretty and neat to unwrap, doesn’t it?” James asks from experience, remembering how he didn’t have the heart to undo the artistry put into wrapping the gift, “I felt that way too but you’ll be missing out on your gift mate. Open it,”

“Yeah! It must be special since you’re getting it so early,” Peter adds, eagerly leaning forward to closely observe what Sirius may unravel. Steeling his nerves, Sirius forces his hands to stop shaking before proceeding to carefully unfold the carefully wrapped gift, on the table the delicate sprig of fern it came with.

Unwrapping the black paper revealed a small, sturdy box that looked as if it held precious jewellery. After a brief moment of pondering what may be inside, Sirius finally lifted the lid and revealed a beautiful red pin, shaped like a shield with gold accents sitting on a black velvet cushion. The metal pin was decorated with a gold, standing lion in the middle. It was a sleek and minimalist design that begged to be picked up and put on. Turning the pin over in his palm, Sirius gasps at the message engraved on the back, his heart racing in his chest as he fights off a beaming smile and the flood of tears threatening to streak down his cheeks in rivers.

‘A Shield To Protect My Brave, Daring And Noble Son’

Above the quote was his name in beautiful cursive and below the quote, in the same elegant handwriting read: ‘Love, Mother’.

Others who observe his state, look on in concern, not knowing what’s happened as Sirius curls in on himself and clutches the pin to his chest with both hands. Worried for their new friend, James, Remus and Peter look at each other with worry. It was Remus who was the first to react, however. The brunette brings up a hand to softly pat Sirius on the back, being the one closest to him in the seating arrangement.

“Did it say something bad?” Peter gently brings up, frightened at the prospect of upsetting his emotional friend by bringing up the subject.

“I don’t think so,” Remus observes and responds in a whisper.

James keeps his focus directly on Sirius, frowning deeply at the sight of his friend’s suddenly much smaller frame, “What’s wrong, Siri?”

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong…” Sirius manages to smile up at them, blinking away the tears and biting his lip in a vain attempt to suppress his beaming smile. Finally seeing his smiling face, his three friends breathed a synchronised sigh of relief.

“Don’t scare us like that, mate,” James laughs weakly and claps him on the shoulder, “we thought something horrible happened,”

Sirius only shakes his head before looking upon his still unopened letter. He thinks he can finally have the courage to open it now. The handwriting belongs to his mother so, with the knowledge that the pin was a gift for his sorting, Sirius concludes that the letter’s contents can only bode the same congratulatory message… right?

When Sirius finally unfolds the letter and reads its contents he begins to cry silently. His vision gets blurred by the river of tears falling from his wide, disbelieving eyes and he has to rapidly blink them away to try and read his letter intelligibly; he has to know that the words on the letter paper are real and that it isn’t an illusion his mind conjured up to cope with the thought of losing his newly loving mother’s affections. Growing concerned, James and Peter cross the table to stand behind Sirius and look over his shaking shoulders to read what the letter says along with Remus.

‘My dearest son, Sirius,’ 

The letter opened, the tone already loving and so so proud.

‘I have received the wonderful news of your sorting and to say that it brings me such great joy would be an understatement. My beautiful son, sorted into the house of lions, brave and courageous — today, I am given the blessing of being an even prouder mother than I already stand.’

Sirius chokes back a sob and ends up releasing a strangled laugh instead. He could never have anticipated such a letter from his mother. Ever. To read the words on the elegantly decorated parchment felt surreal.

‘In celebration, I have prepared a gift for you. I hope it gives you protection and good fortune. Please wear it with pride, the same way I will happily announce to the world that you are my son and the first son in the Black family to be sorted into Gryffindor house. How special you are! And how lucky I am to be the mother of such a noble and brave son.’

The words make Sirius’ heart clench in an almost painful joy as his chest swells with pride and relief. For a moment, he goes about attaching his pin to his robes but finds that his hands are too shaky and his vision too blurred to be able to do it properly or safely. Disregarding the task altogether, he returns to reading his letter with a defeated laugh.

‘I wish I was there to see you sorted personally. Although, I’m afraid I would have embarrassed you in front of your new friends if that were the case, for I would have been the loudest to cheer in the entire hall,’

Remus, James and Peter chuckle from behind him and over his shoulder when they read about your suspected reaction.

“That would’ve been a sight,” Remus comments with a suppressed chuckle.

“The thing is… I think my mum would have been the exact same,” James adds with a lopsided smirk, showcasing his singular, asymmetrical dimple.

“Y-your mum sounds so different to the rumours…“ Peter whispers almost too silently, making Sirius’ breath hitch. He’s so glad for his mother’s change in demeanour, he can hardly remember the last time she scowled in disappointment or disgust at him — he doesn’t care much for trying to remember such a sight however; his mother’s loving smile is so much more suited to her face and so much easier to remember.

‘Regulus is just as thrilled at the result of your sorting. The both of us are current rivals in the feelings of pride and joy over your destined house. I believe that he’s become especially eager to join you in Gryffindor one day.’

Sirius chuckles at the prospect, laughing through the tears as he imagines his younger brother, soft-hearted and demure but witty and sharp as a knife in, both, knowledge and humour, sorted into Gryffindor. If Regulus were to be sorted in the same house as him, Sirius would happily accept the result with open arms. He loved his brother so much that being able to spend time with him at Hogwarts, in the same house, breathed promises of the most fun times and precious memories he could ever experience.

‘If that were to come true, I’m afraid I’d have my hands full being completely outnumbered by two Gryffindors in the house. You’ll have to excuse this mother’s inexperience but I’ll be happy all the same, so it can’t be too bad of an outcome, can it?’

The good humour makes Sirius giggle to himself, overcome with a dopey enchantment he just can’t seem to shake. His tears have dried up and left behind were a pair of rosy cheeks, glittering silver eyes and a beaming grin. His friends share in his happiness, the loving and prideful words on the paper seeping beneath their skin and influencing their moods as well.

‘Without any further embellishments, all I want you to know, my darling son, is that I am proud of you. And so incredibly happy too. You were always very daring and valiant, you had the heart of a lion without even knowing it. It was an unexpected sorting but I can’t say that I’m too surprised. A mother just knows these things. You are where you belong, I only hope that they treat you well there and that you continue being as audacious and fearless as you’ve always been. I love you, Sirius, please never forget that. Love, Mother’

Sirius tucks the letter back into its envelope sleeve before placing it in the breast pocket of his pyjamas, along with the custom pin, carefully stored back in its cushioned box. He will treasure these two simple items forever. He didn’t believe happiness like this could have ever existed but here he was, experiencing it first-hand. It almost felt too good to be true but when he reads it over and over again as soon as he returns to his dorm room to change into his school robes for the day, the realness of the letter and the gift are reinforced over and over.

“I forgot you’re in a family full of Slytherins,” James comments absentmindedly as he throws on his robes without much care for their alignment. Sirius mirrors the action, the lack of care for his appearance is new but freeing and he enjoys it, guilt-free. “I bet you’re relieved to receive a letter like that, considering what most of your family were sorted into,” Peter is nodding along in the background, flashing Sirius a moderate smile, still finding it hard to act freely in most interactions — it’s nothing that can’t be fixed with some valuable time spent together.

Remus perks up and eyes Sirius with sympathy, “That is a relief then…your mother seems to really love you though,” Sirius nods in confirmation, elated that he can share things about his mother happily like this. It no longer feels right to complain about home negativities nor did he feel as though he could openly disgrace his mother’s name.

He’s spoiled by happiness and love, now, even if it was only for a short period of time. And he’s slowly growing a greed for it. Sirius wants to keep making you happy and knowing that all he has to do is be himself, like he was at the sorting ceremony, allows a grin to spread over his lips in pure joy.

He cannot wait to receive your next letter…

NEXT. | 06 : POTIONEER → | SERIES M.LIST

A/N : what a long chapter that was, but very appropriate for my official come back eh? how was it for you darlings? are you excited? I'm sorry about what happened to reggie and what may happen to sirius but we're going to be there for them so don't worry too much, this is a fix-it-fic after all! hehe~ i hope you're excited for what'll happen next because i certainly am! there's so much i still have planned so i don't think there'll be many slow chapters in the future, I'm just a little worried about my execution -- nevertheless, i'll do my best! 

lastly, thank you, everyone, for your support of this series so far! it means so much to me to know that this is being received so well and that more people than i originally thought are enjoying the plot. i was originally going to write a simple imagine/timestamp of this and just leave it at that, but I'm happy my friends encouraged me to turn it into a series. thank you again, my darlings! see you in the next chapter! 

please like, comment and reblog to show your support, i'd really appreciate it! property of kquil ; all written content is mine and no one else's unless stated otherwise ; do not steal, plagiarise, modify or translate to other sites