little terror

The brunette turns to her side to find a breakfast tray upon the bedside table. It’s full of luxuries she hasn’t seen since she began running with the rest of the Order. A fresh array of fruit and some fluffy looking bread, there’s even a small pot of jam beside it.

She carefully sits up, making sure not to aggravate muscles still tense with freshly mended wounds. Her sleep, when it finally came, had been fitful and full of nightmarish flashes of memory that awoke her in tears.

Her attention fixates on the chair adjacent to the bed, finding a set of clothes there. It’s a soft pair of sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt, the two items looking for all the world as though they didn’t belong within fifteen kilometers of this manor. It’s strange enough to leave her wondering when Malfoy had time to learn of muggle clothing or if he’d simply tasked some poor house elf with the job.

She stands on shaky legs and peeks into the adjoining room near the left side of the bed frame, finding it to be the bathroom she assumed it was. She showers quickly and quietly, hoping he won’t utilize this vulnerable opportunity to murder her.

He finds her afterwards, sitting carefully in the middle of the bed with the tray in front of her. Her warm gaze studying a piece of peach on her fork as though it were lying in wait to bite her.

“It’s not poisoned, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

She jumps at the sound of his voice, finding him now standing in front of the closed bedroom door. As though he’d simply materialized there while she had been squinting at her breakfast.

Stark grey eyes watch the fork tenderly enter through her parted lips, her chewing slow and distrustful. Once she swallows the fruit and manages not to spontaneously combust, her shoulders sag at the loss of tension.

There’s an oddly comfortable silence. Malfoy moved to his former position near the mantle and he’d been almost smiling at the barely contained wonder on the girl’s face when she’d discovered a bit of pineapple.

“Where’s your son?” This is spoken after she’d savored every morsel of the aforementioned pineapple chunk.

His sharp features harden instantly, it’s as though she watched an iron gate shut right into her face. “He’s with his mother.” There’s a finality to his tone that leaves her confident in his unwillingness to let that subject go any further.

Silence invades once more.

“Where’s your father?” Her eyes snap to his face the moment the sentence has fled his lips, searching for the sly smirk she just knows is going to be there. Clearly he only asked because she prodded him about his son. But to her surprise, she finds nothing of knowing there. Just a slight hint of curiosity.

“I don’t know,” it leaves her more bitterly than she’d have liked. “Dead I’d hope,” she tacks on quietly. This addition is said almost entirely under her breath.

Lucius says nothing, merely studying the way she now picks aimlessly over the tray. There’s a brief moment where he extends his mind to hers, brushing against her consciousness and finding a brick wall sprouting in his path.

“Very clever, but there’s nothing to see there.” Her words are directed at the fruit bowl, brow slightly furrowed at the idea of him looking through her mind.

“Yes, I quite recall.” Her gaze finds his own at his words and sees that it’s already much too late for any notions of privacy. Her blood seems to freeze in her veins as she swallows thickly.

“You don’t know where the boy is. You never did.” This is a statement, not a question.

“Of course I do,” she retorts. However, it’s spouted much too casually to be genuine.

“Never took you for a liar,” he smiles. It’s a lazy kind of smile, the one a cat might affect over the corpse of a recently butchered canary.

She says nothing. Her attention moving back to the tray in front of her, placing the fork down onto it and gently moving the arrangement back to the bedside table. He notices it remains mostly full, the only things missing were the few bites of fruit.

His head tilts at where she studies her hands in her lap. She’s gone a rather horribly ghostly shade, looking like someone had just tread over her grave.

“You need to eat, you know.”

“If you’re going to kill me, just do it.”

Both of these statements are voiced in one moment, leaving them both blinking at each other.

An elegant brow arches in her direction, “why would I kill you?” The question has barely fled his lips when she laughs - shallow and flat.

“I don’t know anything and you know I don’t. You’ve looked in my head, seen it yourself. I’m not so stupid as to not comprehend what that means.” Her gaze finds him and he wonders, not for the first time - why she wasn’t sorted into gryffindor? How that beautiful, infuriating fire roaring in her eyes didn’t shuffle her in with the rest of them?

“Those are always the orders, yes.” Lucius confirms, his feet beginning a gentle step toward her. His head tilting at her in question before he speaks once again.

“But is that really what you want?”

The girl laughs again, this one a mixture of self deprecation and weighted fear. Her warm eyes meet Malfoy’s and he finds himself practically robbed of breath. There’s such a knowing there, as though she were in on some grand secret he knew nothing of.

When he reaches the side of the bed, she moves carefully to him. She sits, open and vulnerable, looking up at him with her legs parted to allow him to stand between them.

“If I had to choose you or Lestrange, I have a feeling you would do me the service of making it quick.”

His fingers lift to gently trace along her jaw, an echo of last night’s gesture. The opposite hand moves to retrieve something from his inner breast pocket. Her gaze jumps from his face to the silver snake adorning the end of his wand.

He gently raises it until the tip rests just under her chin, watching her swallow carefully at the sensation. His focus flickers to the way her eyes flutter shut, chest rising in a deep breath as though she wanted the last to be fuller than any other she’d taken.

The hand not holding his wand slides easily into her hair, another reminder of last night’s touch that prompts a shudder to wrack her frame.

“Any last words?” His voice is ever so soft in her ear, his head having inclined to leave his smooth lips brushing her skin.

There’s a shaky inhale, and he doesn’t miss the way she seems to almost press further into his touch. Not allowing herself to rest into it completely.

A soft contemplative noise passes from her and he shifts back to look at her completely. Her lashes still brush her cheeks, as though she couldn’t bear the thought of staring death in the eyes.

His dark grey gaze has settled solely on her plush lips when she parts them to speak.

“The wheel is come full circle; I am here.”

He recognizes it instantly to be a line from Shakespeare, and something in his heart aches at the thought of her last words being so carefully plucked from her mind.

He draws a breath to speak and a quick trembling hand clasps over the one holding his wand.

“Lucius?” Her voice is urgent and he’s unable to stop the warm spread of honey through his chest at the sound of his name on her lips.

“Yes, little one?” It’s rasped gently into the thick air between them. Her warm gaze flutters open to meet his own when the endearment flees him, only a hairsbreadth left between their faces.

“I do wish you well.” The sentiment is so achingly soft that he is wholly unable to detect one inkling of falsehood in it. It’s said genuinely and peacefully, as though she didn’t blame him in the least.

His smooth lips are pressing into hers before her eyes can manage to close once more. She makes a soft sound against him before surrendering utterly and wholly to his touch.

There’s a weighted clatter as his wand hits the floor, his now free hand is reverently clasping her jaw. His tongue traces the seam of her plush lips, delighting in the gasp that allows him entry.

Her delicate hands come up to fist in his suit jacket, making a needy sound that he swallows contentedly. The ring clad hand still resting in her hair tugs until she whines, quickly sliding to grip her throat.

She parts from him on a gasp, her heartbeat hammering in her chest at the feeling of his smooth lips traveling down to suck kisses on any bit of the skin not covered by his hand.

“Tell me to stop,” he breathes and a lump sticks in her throat at how much the words sound like worship.

“No,” she murmurs softly.

A gentle hushed thud alerts her to him shifting onto his knees, hand leaving her throat to slide under the sweatshirt. He lifts it over her head, making a soothing noise in his chest at the sight of her bare chest.  

He’s quickly moving to suck kisses along her sternum, paying careful attention to cover the place Lestrange’s wand had touched her hours prior.

A large hand covers one breast as he laves his tongue over the other. His palm rubs even circles over her nipple that leave her shifting her hips against him. A startled cry fleeing her lips as soon as he sucks her nipple between his own.

Her delicate fingers furrow into his hair, tugging lightly in conjunction to a hiss at the gentle purposeful scrape of his teeth. He pinches her other nipple, humming a little laugh against her when her hips buck.

He reluctantly abandons her breasts to trail biting kisses along her stomach. His hands encourage her to lay back as he shifts the pants off her hips. When she lifts herself to aid in their removal, he rewards her by sucking a stark bruise to her hip bone.

The blond presses careful kisses to a stretch mark along her upper thigh before moving to focus between her parted legs. He breathes a small appreciative groan at the sight of her bare beneath the pants.

“Look at you,” it’s said in a way that brokers no questions on who exactly is in charge and it leaves her clenching around nothing.

“Such a pretty girl, is this all for me?” A gentle question spoken just as his index finger traces shallowly through her slit.

He bites a small kiss to her inner thigh that makes her hips jump, “I asked you a question.”

“Y-Yes, sir.” The ‘sir’ tacked onto the end is added quickly as though she hadn’t wanted to be wrong in addressing him with just the confirmation.

Dark grey eyes flick up to settle on hers, a smile quirking his lips. “What excellent manners you have, who taught you those, I wonder.”

Those words in combination with the look he’s giving her, the one that says it very well doesn’t matter if anyone has touched her so long as he gets to now, leaves her robbed of any possible speech.

“I bet you taste so sweet,” his tongue traces along the seam of her thigh. A finger still pressing maddeningly up and down the length of her, too shallow to stimulate and too deep to ignore completely.

“May I?”

Her fingers still buried in his hair, busy themselves stroking through it reverently. His eyes finding hers reflecting a tender vulnerability that makes his breath stick in his chest.

“Please, Lucius. I want-“ her words falter into a cry when he licks broadly up the length of her.

He fucks his tongue into her, nose bumping her clit with every stroke. His arms curl upward under her thighs to grip them and pull her further against his face. Hands digging the beginnings of finger shaped bruises into her skin with the strength of his grip.

He rumbles a pleased groan in his chest when she begins to rock her hips gently into his tongue. The rewards being a harsh sucking kiss to her clit before he’s moving back to fucking his tongue into her.

He’s eating her like she’s his favorite fucking meal and the rhythm he’s established seems like it’s sole purpose is to get her to cum in his mouth as quickly as humanly possible.

A whine flees her lips when he groans at the feeling of her trying desperately to clench around him. His slick lips moving to her clit and sucking softly, only humming against her when she squirms futilely against his hold.

“You’re being so good for me. So close, aren’t you?” His voice sounds like stirred gravel in his chest, and she’s shuddering at the dark sound.

His tongue traces back down before curling into her again, creating some kind of slow rhythm that traces his tongue repeatedly over just the right place. Her thighs shake against his shoulders, leaving him giving a soft noise of approval. A hand lifts from its place against her thighs, thumb moving to rub sure circles over her clit.

She cries out, trying to squirm out of his hold to escape the stimulation. Her fingers tug gently at his hair whilst he pulls her tight against his mouth.  A sort of keening sob tears from her chest, back arching as she gushes against his lips.

He’s groaning into her, drinking her down with slick noises she feels are entirely too loud in her ears. The apples of her cheeks color a deep red hue that begins to travel down to her neck.

“Good girl,” his voice is so heated it stirs an unintentional little whimper from her lips. Dark grey eyes peer up at her from where he runs his tongue over her one last time, moving to press gentle kisses to her inner thighs.

The look he’s giving her makes her heart jump in her chest, she imagines it to be something similar to a large carnivore surveying prey. Dinner. Her attention flickers to the trace of his tongue over his lips, trying to swallow causally around the lump in her throat.

He rises to a stand and she allows her eyes to trace over the fact that he was still fully clothed. It only served to make her feel more vulnerable.

She slowly moves to stand on her knees in front of him, watching him regard her with that ever present curiosity. Delicate fingers curl into his suit jacket, her other hand moving back into his silky platinum hair. There’s something in his expression like knowing, a gentle almost condescending confidence in his position of authority over her. Her gaze meets his own, leaning in to press a fond kiss to his jaw.

Both of her hands glide to push his suit jacket from his shoulders, watching as he allows it to fall to the floor with a soft hush. Her fingers then move to the buttons of his shirt, she’s just reaching his sternum when he speaks.

“Awful lot of time you’re taking, little one.”

She looks to him to see those crystalline eyes looking down on her idly, his hands lifting from where they rested on her hips to roll both his sleeves to the elbow. Smooth lips uttering a soft laugh at the rapt attention contorting her features, pulling her against his chest to kiss her soundly.

A whine clogs her throat at the taste of herself against his lips, breaking away from him to make another needy sound. This one has him arching a brow at her, toeing off his shoes and guiding her further back onto the bed.

“What is it you need?” His hands rest on either side of her head, nosing along her neck while she feels entirely more unraveled than he seems.

Her lips part to speak, but fall short of any sound when he raises her arm and presses the softest of kisses to the fresh pink scar that lay there.

Large hand slides down and traces over her idly, teasing the lightest of circles against her clit. It’s truly a miracle she was able to get any words out at all, when his hand is doing that and he’s looking at her like he’d love nothing more than to continue eating her for hours.

“You, I just need -“ the words falter into a high gasp when his finger thrusts in.

He hums warmly, smooth lips quirking into a gentle smile. His finger curls teasingly before he pulls it from her. He sucks it between his lips before moving to undo his belt. Her hands quickly jump to help him and before she can even reach him properly, his hand is curled around her throat.

He squeezes lightly, leaning to kiss her far too lightly for her liking. “Stay,” he breathes, hand pressing her back into the covers by her throat.

There’s something shining in his gaze when he removes his hand and she arches to try to follow the touch. Almost like he’s shuffling the information away for later use.

When the blond’s belt has gone and his trousers undone, there’s a horribly keening sound that squeaks from her. One that leaves him genuinely smiling, head tilting at her whilst he pumps his hand over his length.

He leans over her, smooth lips sucking kisses along her jawline while she writhes against him. The hand gripping his cock teases the head through her slit, humming at the way she shivers at the feeling.

“Beg me,” he murmurs lowly. He somehow manages to make this sound like some kind of dark threat against her skin.

His gaze catches hers as he thrusts just the head of his cock into her, a high whimper punched from her chest. Her back arching up into him in supplication.

“Please, Lucius. I’m -“ her hands scramble to dig her nails into his shoulders, hips swiveling to try and get him deeper. He holds firm above her, breathing more ragged than it was just a moment before. “I’ll do anything, please - Please.”

“There’s a good girl,” he murmurs, soft and low and worshipful.

He thrusts in fully in one rough motion, leaving her arching and practically sobbing into his grip. A groan rumbles in his chest, dropping his head to the crook of her neck. Delicate hands bury into his hair, squirming when he doesn’t budge for a torturously slow moment.

He slowly leaves her, thrusting back in sharply and establishing a rough rhythm that leaves her trembling against him. His lips suck dark bruises along her neck, humming against her skin when she whines prettily.

“I know, little one. I know,” he hushes softly. His hand shifted to grip her thigh, lifting it to pump deeper into her.

“You are taking me so well, so beautiful.” The words drop into a groan when she clenches around him at the praise. His free hand moves to rub hard circles around her clit, she cries out trying to escape his touch.

“You can take it, now give me what I want,” his lips capture hers and swallow the breathless cry she gives against him. Her back arching to press her chest into his, lashes brushing her cheeks as her eyes clenched shut. She shudders as she finds her release, soaking his cock and the sheets beneath her.

He moans a dark appreciative sound before quickly sliding out of her, giving a soft laugh when she whines at the loss.

“Easy,” he breathes. An entirely different echo of the first time he said it to her.

Large hands guide her onto her stomach, back arched to leave her ass pressed deliciously against him. Her face resting on it’s side against the sheets, delicate hands curling around them.

“Pretty girl,” it’s murmured in such an appraising tone that she sighs a little contented noise. His hands move to grip her hips, pulling her back onto him as he thrusts in.

“Fuck,” she moans softly.

He hums in response, once again starting a rhythm that’s punishingly rough. Her plush lips parting in gentle pants, whining pleadingly at him when he slows the drag out of her.

“Are you already going to cum again?” It’s a rhetorical question and god, she knows it is because even she is aware of how hard she’s clenching around him. He pitches her hips downward more, thrusting in and hitting just the right spot. “Poor thing, so needy, aren’t you, my love?”

He gives a gentle little ‘mmm’ when she only manages a whine in response to his question, pumping into her specifically targeting that spot that makes her squirm. His hand moves to circle her clit in sharp movements, free hand moving to curl around the back of her neck like an anchor.

“Take what you need, little one,” he rasps.

She shudders when his fingers squeeze gently against the sides of her throat. Her body desperately trembles against him while she tries to babble noises that could be interpreted into words. Her cries turn breathy as she wets him with her release once again. A throaty moan curls in his chest, fucking her through it.

“Good girl.”

His hips continue a rough tempo, quickening with the way she sighs against him. He’s quickly cursing under his breath, clutching her hips and thrusting in deep when he cums. Smooth lips drop gentle kisses along her shoulder blades while he fills her, humming at the little noise she breathes at the feeling.

Ring adorned hands trace reverently over her skin, rubbing the warmth into it whilst his gaze trails over the pretty picture she makes. He leaves her with a soft hiss before he’s shushing her soft pleading sounds at the loss. He’s tucking himself away and fastening his trousers, head atilt when he finds his attention drawn to where she drips of him. Lucius then presses a tender kiss to the base of her spine.

His grip finds her warm and malleable, guiding her to curl against his chest. His heart settled back into a familiar rhythm with the comforting weight of her draped across his broad frame. Malfoy’s fingers move to run soothing through her hair, his smooth lips pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

She mumbles something softly into his skin, the action quirking his lips into a smile.

“Yes, little one?”

“Thank you,” she breathes. The fondness and gentle quality of the phrase makes something in his chest tighten. He replies a soft ‘of course,’ humming pleasantly when she snuggles further into him.

Her face is buried in the crook of his neck when she mutters something else he can’t quite hear, the hand in her hair tugging gently to alert her to his need to hear.

“I said, next time I’ll be sure to call you daddy,” there’s a smile in her voice although he can’t see it.

His throat suddenly dried with the thought, tugging gently at her hair again in retaliation. Lucius finds himself entirely enchanted by the soft laugh she gives into his skin.

“Behave,” he murmurs with a gentle threat in his tone. Her delicate hand raises to curl sweetly against his jaw, his own hands clutching her tighter to him.

Her eyes flutter open, blinking blearily at the dark canopy aloft the four poster bed she lies upon. The dark velvet swims nauseously for a moment, she swallows heavily as it subsides.

Delicate hands flutter to her nose then quickly lift to her field of vision, finding her fingers to be blessedly free of blood. Her gaze catches on her forearm, finding the once flayed skin to be healed over into a pinkish scar.

“Magic can’t fix everything, unfortunately,” comes a silky voice.

She starts, jolting upright so fast that her head swims. Malfoy stands regally by the crackling hearth, and her heart sinks at the confirmation that she wasn’t simply resting in some foreign room at grimmauld place.

Her tired eyes track over the blond’s towering figure. His forearm rests against the black wood of the mantle, a crystal glass in it’s grip. His back straightens from where he was looking into the fire.

His dark grey gaze flickers to her own, her hands wringing nervously under the weight of it.

“Why… Why heal me?” Her voice is hushed in the gloom, her eyes moving up to meet his stare.

“You needed healing,” he answers simply.

Her attention drops to the carved word on her arm, brow furrowing in contemplation.

“Your lineage, what is it?” The question comes more nonchalantly than she’d figured he was capable of being.

She manages a scoff, gently swinging her feet over the side of bed and coming to a shaky stand. Something in the pit of her stomach lunches when she stumbles and Malfoy starts slightly from his place as though to aid her.

“Why would I tell you anything about me?” It’s said to her toes as she treads toward the door. Unabashedly jiggling the handle in front of him and cursing under her breath when she finds it magicked shut.

She turns over her shoulder to find him staring at her, the corner of his smooth lips quirked up slightly in something close to amusement.

The brunette paces softly to the window and tries to pry it upward, finding it warded as well. When she turns to face him he has an elegant brow arched in question.

“My father was an muggle and my mother was a witch, and yet they both were still stupid children who managed to have a pretty large accident.”  The retort is dry and bland, her petite figure moving achingly to sit back on the bed. It’s unspoken, but she assumes he’s clever enough to realize that she is the aforementioned accident.

Her gaze finds Lucius looking at her curiously, as though he wanted to crack her apart and scrutinize her insides. The way one might do with an unruly clock.

“I understand it, I’m dirt and filth and nothing more than the scum on the bottom of your shoe,” she’s leveling him with a look that makes his mouth twitch. “But I have something you never will,” this leaves her with a tone of finality he never anticipated.

Alright, he’ll bite.

“And what might that be?”

“Love,” she’s turning to him with a pity in her gaze that leaves a bitter, acrid taste on his tongue. “True love, the kind that you’d do anything for. The kind that breeds trust, compassion and loyalty. A love of life.”

Lucius’ jaw clenches, tendons flexing under the skin. Though she believes she wasn’t meant to notice it. He solemnly raises his glass to his smooth lips, now confirmed in the root of such loyalty that seems to sluice through the very fibre of her being.

“War can breed indifference, little witch.” His tone is flat and cast almost fully into his glass, which seems precariously low.

“War makes monsters of men,” she shoots back bravely. Or rather stupidly depending on who’s perspective you’re entertaining. And she definitely doesn’t miss that Lord Malfoy acknowledged her by the title of witch.

His lithe figure turns to her, resting his glass onto the mantle with an audible clack before his feet hush along the carpet.

He’s eerily calm. The quiet makes her swallow nervously, in a way she knows she’d prefer his rage to this horribly predatory silence.

He reaches her, angular features betraying nothing as he puts two fingers under her chin and lifts her gaze to his own.

Deep grey eyes slide across her features, almost appraisingly before they settle on her lips. They drag upward to meet her stare and he seems almost at ease with how rigid and on edge he’s made her.

“Lucifer was once the favored, golden son of god as you may recall,” it’s stated in a dangerously soft drawl.

Her body feels frozen, the feeling ebbing outward from his touch which begins to travel upward. His calloused thumb smoothes over the apple of her cheek, lifting to brush a lock of hair from her face and sliding back to trace her jawline.

“And even you yourself believed I was an angel once,” he murmurs softly. Crystalline grey stare shifting from the place where his thumb caresses her skin to her eyes.

There’s something knowing blooming across his face when the girl flushes prettily. The high points of her cheeks suffusing with a deep rose hue, her plush lips parting to speak and finding no noise will leave them.

Her brow furrows gently as though trying to puzzle out when that may have happened and then it slots easily into place in her thoughts. A groggy awakening where she believed she was dreaming, or straying rapidly toward death at the very least. There’d been a man in her field of vision, hazy - and yet there all the same.

There’s something fierce about the look that enters her face, pulling abruptly from his grasp.

“Yes, well, being moments from death will take it out of you,” her voice is strong and clear. As steely as it had been when she’d told Bellatrix to bite her.

Malfoy’s hand is quicker than she could’ve anticipated, ring clad hand sealing around her throat expertly. As though she’d been wearing his hand there all her life. The tips of his fingers push in at the sides with an expertise that makes her heart skip a beat.

There’s a brief charged moment where their eyes clash before Lucius yanks her forward to put his smooth lips at her ear.

“And whose fault might that be?” The question makes her shudder with the brush of his lips against her skin.

“Choosing a side will always end in bloodshed. That’s what war is, little girl.” His feature tip until his lips are running along her cheekbone. “Don’t presume you’re safe simply because I’ve healed your wounds, I could’ve been bandaging you purely to allow Lestrange to start in on you again.”

Ice sluices down her spine, fear furrowing into her heart like poison into a wound. Her hands lift to press at his broad chest, but he squeezes at her throat until her blood roars in her ears. The pressure easing just before she feels too faint to remain cognizant.

“You’re cruel,” she grits out between clenched teeth. It’s spoken as though it were the worst insult she could’ve hurled at him. And to her, it probably was.

“Perhaps,” he murmurs. His hand drifted from her throat back into her hair, threading his fingers through and tugging until she had no choice, but to look up at him.

Their lips are practically touching and he’s looking down at her with something heavy in his gaze that makes her breath stick in her throat.

“Though, I’ve never met an angel who wasn’t,” it’s spoken as though he were divulging some careful secret.

He’s leaning lithely against the mantle of an ornate gothic fireplace, snowy white hair pinned half up to allow for ease of sight. His large ring adorned hand blandly swirls a dark amber liquid around in a crystal tumbler. He’s an exceedingly tall man with a sharp, handsome face and an aura of sophistication about him. He’s just as gothically beautiful as the room surrounding him; however, he currently looks as though he’d rather be anywhere else - bored.

He lifts the glass to his smooth lips as another guttural scream pierces the air, bringing with it an unbidden, unpleasant feeling that pools in his chest.

Stark grey gaze flickering to the brunette pinned beneath the frizzy haired form of his sister in law. Lestrange’s wand is jutting into the girl’s sternum, casting curse after curse into the brunette’s flesh.

“You’ve seen the boy! I know it! Where is he?” Bellatrix's voice echoes shrilly to the high ceilings of the manor.

The blond flits his eyes to the girl’s face, jumping from the blood sluggishly pouring from her nose to the cuts across her cheekbones. Lucius has never had a stomach for torture himself, idly recalling it as a barbaric non-necessity. Hence, his sister in law’s presence.

The girl, to her credit, has been enduring this for three hours now. The brunette was nothing special, not really. A former Hufflepuff far out of her depth in league with the Order and that undying runt, fighting for everything good and pure.

Malfoy takes another sip from his glass, head atilt as his focus moves to the girl’s arm where mudblood is carved maliciously into the skin. Bellatrix spits another curse and he watches the green curl into the girl’s chest. Her shirt tattered around her chest to allow the death eater’s wand to touch skin.

Another scream cracks the air, this one sounds more like a sort of sob. It crackles wetly in the girl’s chest, alluding to some unseen bleeding beneath her breast. He thinks this is it, she’ll finally give up the boy. She has to- anymore of this and Lestrange’s tantrum will end in her death.

But a soft foreign sound twinkles from the brunette’s throat and at first, Lucius believes it to be crying. Until his head cranes further and finds it to be a laugh.

The girl is laughing. It’s dim and slow, but clear as water.

Malfoy’s brow furrows, throat feeling sticky with something he can’t comprehend.

“Bite me,” the girl rasps. It sounds like gravel in her chest, but she manages to allow the words out.

Bellatrix screams in a rage, fury rolling off her in a tangible mass. The death eater raises her wand under the girl’s chin, threat beaming behind her eyes. Malfoy sneers at the display, having long since decided this method of extraction is clearly not working. His dress shoes hush a steady tread along the ancient rug, a large hand curling around his sister in law’s shoulder like a vice.

“Killing her would do you no service,” the unspoken threat lingers there. Disobeying their master would result in more harm than any death eater was willing to shoulder.

Lestrange mutters something under her breath, tearing out of the room and the manor to return to Voldemort’s side.

Malfoy’s grey gaze watches the thick black smog speed out of the foyer before turning his focus to the battered girl wilting against his floors. Pretty little thing she was, beneath the blood and bruises staining her skin.

He moves to kneel at the girl’s side, accessing the sluggish rise and fall of her chest. Her eyes had fallen shut, a soft discontented noise that sounded like a whimper falling from her lips. Lucius’ hand moves to brush the errant, blood slicked curls from her face.

His mind curls against the girl’s, deciding if there was a time to use his aptitude for legilimency - it’s when she was unconscious and weak. His thoughts move through the cluttered mass of her own, taking stock of the place as though it were some hidden library.

He flits by happy memories - the girl laughing at the great hall, an adolescent prank gone wrong and watching her tear along the portrait lined halls with two red headed twins beside her, and carving a large pumpkin outside a decrepit little shack he recognizes to be the school’s gamekeeper's home. She’d been lining these memories around the pain - smart girl.

He catches a flash of the Order and pulls on the memory like thread, feeling it resist and unravel before him. The answer he receives gives him such a jolt that he rips himself from her mind entirely.

“You never knew,” he murmurs aloud. Grey eyes searching her bloodied, unconscious face for answers and finding none.

The brunette hadn’t known where Potter was, not even an inkling of his whereabouts. Only allowing herself to be tortured to waste their time. If the death eaters, even partially, were preoccupied with her then the boy had that much more of a chance at success.

Lucius’ jaw clenches, a horrible feeling creeping in on tender feet and settling in the base of his spine. Such loyalty.

The girl stirs, hiccoughing herself awake and startling when she doesn’t immediately recognize her surroundings. Her warm eyes turn to Malfoy’s, a sort of dazed look about them as though she were still dreaming. Her petite frame moves to try to sit up and Lucius’ hand settles it’s palm against her collar bone.

“Easy,” he remarks softly.

He’s taking her in like he’s truly seeing her for the first time, looking at her with something unidentifiable resting behind his eyes. Her delicate fingers are raising to link across the ones resting near her shoulder, curling around them gently.

Pedantic grey eyes flicker to the girl’s face, watching her plush lips form a sort of weary smile. Her eyes run over his face, in a way he might deign as reverent.

“I never really believed in angels,” comes her soft voice. It sounds much too thick to be healthy, her lips are a horribly pallid shade of pink.

Lucius is frozen, brow slightly furrowing at her words. His lithe frame rigid as he watches the hand holding his own unfurl and raise. Gentle fingers trace the line of his jaw devoutly, a caress that leaves him feeling traitorously warm where her touch lies.

“So beautiful,” she breathes.

She shudders out a breath and her eyes flutter shut once more, his hand swiftly catching her slightly raised head before it can hit the floor. For a horrible moment, one he doesn’t dare ponder the meaning of - he holds her. His breathing has long since halted in his chest as he waits - waits to see if she’s dead.

Then her chest stutters a raspy inhale and the moment ends with the sound. Lucius sighs a breath through his nose, shifting his lean arms under her knees and back to lift her into his chest.

When Sirius’ hand finds Remus’ back, leading him up the gaunt stairs of grimmauld place with a sort of knowing look the lycanthrope recognizes from their youth, the latter is nothing if not suspicious.

“I’ve gotten you a gift, you should really be thanking me, you know.” A certain lightness is dancing in the glass of Sirius’ grey eyes, leading Remus to believe this has something to do with the girl. Or that, at the very least, she’s in on it.

The door to Sirius’ room creaks open with the gentle push of Remus’ scarred hand, the space now redecorated with a larger bed and a more modern gothic appeal. But the decor is the least of Lupin’s worries when he sees what awaits him in the middle of the room.

There, just before the large four poster bed, is the girl. Her brunette curls swaying like a lion’s mane around her shoulders, the apples of her cheeks are a maddening shade of pink. Embarrassment, Remus realizes belatedly; his focus is too concerned with her attire to really register anything, but the fabric.  

She’s wearing her old Hogwarts uniform - the skirt now a little too short on her thick thighs, the white button up a little more cinched, her gold and onyx tie knotted smartly around her collar.

The lycanthrope’s scarred lips part, a sudden loss of words seizing his throat. It feels wrong, it should be something he laughs off as a non-occurrence to his thoughts. But he doesn’t, doesn’t say anything - simply blinks at her.

Her nose crinkles at the figure of Sirius behind the former, cheeks somehow pinkening more. “I told you this was silly!” She’s wringing her hands in her pitifully cropped skirt nervously, “I told you he’d think it was silly,” she murmurs again, mostly for her own benefit it would seem.

Sirius is clicking his tongue at her, head tilting as he studies the hem of the aforementioned skirt. “Oh I don’t think that’s the case at all, bunny.”

His boot clad feet hush a gentle tread across the floors as he moves to her side. The animagus’ calloused hands found their place along her waist and gently drew her chin toward him. “I think we put poor moony at a loss for words.”

Sirius’ hand guides her to look toward where Remus is still standing stock still, his cheeks considerably more pink than she’s ever seen.

“I.. How did you,” Lupin’s swallowing at this somehow exceedingly clever exposure of something he never even admitted to himself.

“Always thought it was a shame your little assistant wasn’t wearing this when I first met her, thought you might feel the same,” Sirius shrugs nonchalantly like the winning smirk on his face was nonexistent.

Remus’ mouth feels considerably drier as he thinks on that night.

Lupin had disarmed her easily enough, a simple expelliarmus when he’d found her with her wand to Black’s throat. She always was a clever girl, an even smarter assistant. Her figure set between the kids and Sirius, she looked more relieved to see Remus than he’d thought possible.

“Looking a bit ragged, aren’t we, Sirius? Finally the skin reflects the madness within.” Lupin’s soulful amber gaze is regarding his old friend against the dingy floor.

“You’d know all about the madness within, wouldn’t you, Remus?” The fact that Black can find it in himself to give even a halfhearted jab heartened Lupin, hand outstretched to help the former up and into his embrace. Sirius is shaking like a leaf in his grip, seemingly close to shattering altogether.

When they part, the betrayal on the girl’s face has him feeling like a wash of ice has settled over his skin. Her gaze hardening with the set of her jaw, instantly he sees in her the steel of someone ready to give their life for another.

She’d have died for Harry, of that he has no doubt.

“No! I trusted you! I covered for you, and all this time you’ve been his friend!” Hermione’s gripping the girl’s arm in a way that feels like it’s meant to steady them both.

“Professor Lupin is a werewolf,” the girl supplies softly as though she loathed to reveal a burden that wasn’t her own.

Sirius is letting out a bark of laughter at that, Lupin’s brows arching into his hairline.

“How long have you known?”

“Since your first absence when I took over your place. I thought it odd that the headmaster would hire me to study under you when there has never been another craft assistant. But then again, none of them need to flee the moon.” Her voice is brittle, fists clenched at her side.

Sirius paces to the front of his old friend once more, scoffing at her words. “Yes, yes - you, pretty little girl, glow like the sun and Remus calls to the moon. Enough talk! He dies. Now. If you won’t do it with me, Remus, I’ll do it alone.”

“Wait, Sirius, Harry deserves to know.” Lupin interjects, hand clasping Black’s shoulder to steady him.

The girl is grasping after Harry as he advances out from behind her, voice cracking with pain as he accuses Black of betraying his parents. Remus tries to be the voice of reason, easing his way into the conversation and explaining Peter’s existence - his betrayal.

His assistant is watching guardedly, protectively shielding Hermione and Ron. Remus sees in her all the sincerity of a lion’s roar and he wonders not for the first time, how she didn’t end up in Gryffindor. Her back straightens when Sirius levels his grey gaze onto the redhead boy, still unaware he was really after the rat.

When Severus appears in the doorway, she sighs in relief for the second time. She takes the opportunity to dive for her wand on the floor, standing to find Snape’s wand leveled at her nose.

“Professor?” The girl’s voice crackles in her chest, the first time it’s ever wavered.

“Should’ve known you’d be found aiding these two, I told Dumbledore Lupin was helping an old friend into the castle. How foolish I was not to see your involvement, pathetic girl.” The potions master sneers, rounding on her until her back faces both Remus and Sirius.

“Professor, she isn’t involved -“ Hermione tries to interject, stepping forward to try and aid the girl.

“Enough, Granger!” Snape barks over his shoulder.

Remus steps up to place a hand gently at the base of the girl’s spine, still trying to calm the situation. “Severus, the girl is innocent.” And Lupin tries desperately to swallow the bitter taste in his mouth when she jerks away from his touch.

“Brilliant! And, as usual, dead wrong, Severus.” Black barks manically. “An overestimation to presume Remus is charming pretty little witches over to the dark side. Now give us our wands back, Remus and I have a bit of unfinished business to attend to.”

Snape whips his wand point to settle just under Sirius’ jaw, the girl giving a soft gasp in fear in spite of herself. Her hands raised to clasp over her mouth, assuming in a moment she’d see Black’s corpse hit the floor.

“See? Just as I thought, she worries for you,” Severus drawls. His cold black eyes flickering to the girl, to Black, and back again.

“Can’t help that I’ve had a certain magnetism about me,” Sirius rasps softly.

“That’s enough, Sirius!” Remus snaps, hand moving to clasp the girl’s shoulder. He’s desperately willing her to fall into the relative safety of his side, trying to get most of them out of this mess in one piece.

Lupin swallows around the lump in his throat, looking at where Black is trailing kisses over the brunette’s jawline. Her lashes brush the apples of her cheeks where they’ve fluttered shut, plush lips parted in breathless little pants.

“I didn’t think you were particularly consumed with thoughts of our bunny’s attire that night,” the lycanthrope finally manages to say. His deep amber gaze studying the way Sirius’ ring adorned hand encases her throat.

“Then you must not know me very well at all, moons.” The animagus jokes with a sly smile quirking the corners of his lips. Black moves and places a reverent kiss on the girl’s lips, “I was entertaining the thought of a victory kiss at the very least.”

Sirius’ free hand snaking under the hem of her skirt, tendons flexing under the skin as his fingers trace the length of her. Remus’ jaw clenches at the clarity of the insinuation, a victory kiss indeed.

“This; however, is your gift, moony.” Black murmurs with a genuine smile, pressing a kiss to the girl’s temple before stepping away to the small dry bar. Large hands deftly pours a glass of smoky dark liquid and settles into the high backed chair beside it. “I’m just here to enjoy the show,” the animagus winks at the pair.

Remus’ gaze moves to the girl, taking in her flushed complexion and the rapid rise and fall of her chest. His steps are measured as he crosses to her, though this time somehow feels different from the many times before. A scarred hand settles at her hip, the other tracing reverently along her jaw.

“Professor,” she’s breathing softly. A tender exhalation that has him nearly biting his tongue off.

He barely swallows his groan, dropping his face to nose into the crook of her neck. “This was entirely his idea, wasn’t it?” Lupin’s words are slightly muffled into her skin, but she hears them clear as water.

“Yes, um.. Well, I- I did find my old uniform and I thought,” her words falter when she feels him press a chaste kiss to her skin.

The roughened hand at her hip gently moving to thumb under that horribly short hemmed skirt, inhale sticking in his chest when he finds nothing but bare skin underneath. “What did you think, sweetheart?”

“I thought the idea of, um,” her warm gaze flickers nervously to Sirius for help. He arches an elegant brow at her, not offering any assistance. “I thought the idea of being your student was kind of… hot.” Her nose crinkles at the final word, only having said it for lack of a better one. Her gaze is resolutely not meeting Lupin’s stare, a little sharp inhale giving away the soft trace of his index against her slit.

To his credit, he gives a soft, kind little laugh through his nose. His scarred lips pressing a grateful kiss to her forehead before inclining to rest his forehead against her own. She squirms a little in his grip as his index dips a little further into her, not enough to actually provide any stimulation. Just enough to tease at the idea of it.

“Can’t say I haven’t thought of a sweet little Hufflepuff wandering into my office,” he admits softly. She leans back to catch his eyes, his own gaze finding her doe eyes widening at his confession. The corners of his eyes crinkle at the same time a smile curls his lips.

He inclines until his lips are at her ear, stubble scratching her ear as his finger finally pushes into her fully. A steadying hand at her back as she sways further into his grip, a needy little sound escaping her throat.

“How pretty she’d look sitting atop my desk, thighs parted to allow me in,” his voice is a gentle rasp against her skin. Her hands lifted to dig her nails into his shoulders, a whimper punching out of her chest. His index pumps steadily into her, teasing the one spot she wants his attention on. “Desperately wondering what I’d have to do to get her onto her knees, lips wrapped around me.”

“Probably just asking would do,” pipes Sirius with a knowing smirk.

The brunette makes a gentle whine as if to remark on the unfairness of that statement. Remus moves to catch her lips with his own, trying to taste the sounds leaving her.

“You can whine all you’d like, bunny. But it’s clear that all the Professor and I have to do is ask and you’ll comply,” Sirius smiles. His head tilting as he watches Remus trace his tongue along her bottom lip, the lycanthrope’s hand flexing with the pumping of his finger.

The brunette breaks the kiss to stutter out an objection, “that’s- that’s not true, pads.” Her words are cut off with a moan as Remus inserts a second finger, his body guiding her until her back hits the wood of one of the bed’s four poster rungs. Lupin’s lips still hardly parted from hers, only leaving to bite little kisses along her jaw.

“Oh, but I think it is. Ever the obedient little thing you are,” there’s something softly condescending in Remus’ tone that zips along her spine and pulls.

“Moony,” she murmurs breathlessly. Her brow furrows gently as his fingers curl and brush the spot only he and Sirius have ever managed to find.

“That’s not my name, sweetheart.” Lupin corrects warmly, leaning back to catch her eyes. Her warm gaze searching the depths of those amber hues and immediately knowing exactly what he wants to hear.

“Professor,” she whines out. Her hips trying to buck further into his touch, delicate fingers lifting to curl into the hair at the nape of his neck.

“There’s a good girl.” His praise has her shivering against him, he’s quick to reward her with a thumb circling her clit. She squirms against him as he manages to edge her with a rhythm too slow to be stimulating and fast enough to leave her shaking.

“And why’d you come to my office, little bunny?” The question is maddeningly calm, her mind trying to scramble for an acceptable answer and managing to zero in on a memory that’s plagued her.

“I just wanted,” her voice cuts off with a keening sound when he nips at her neck, beginning to worry a bruise there. “R-Remember the lesson on grindylows, you- you had your sleeves rolled up and- fuck,” her focus wavering as he slowly begins to trail lower. His scarred lips brushing the swell of her breasts through the thin white button up, free hand pulling her shirt from her skirt to brush over the soft skin of her stomach. His stubble tickling slightly as he places a kiss there, his index and middle finger still maintaining an unintelligible rhythm under her skirt whilst he moves to his knees.

“I don’t think the Professor gave you permission to stop talking, bunny.” Sirius is watching her with rapt eyes, winking when she meets his gaze.

Lupin’s pulling his fingers from her briefly to wretch her skirt down her legs, her thighs trembling with the sheer amount of willpower she’s using to keep standing.

“Your shirt!” she gasps out as Remus’ tongue traces a stretch mark spanning from her hipbone to the top of her thigh. “Your shirt was unbuttoned and your sleeves were rolled up and you looked so beautiful,” a whine warbles out when he rewards her with a scrape of his teeth.

His hands curl around her hips and less than gently prompt her to sit up on the bed, kneeling fully between her spread thighs. “You looked so good and I just wanted,” her words falter as her eyes flutter open to meet his own. Those soulful amber eyes reverently staring up from between her legs, something like worship in his expression when he sucks a kiss onto the tender skin of her inner thigh.

“I’ve never wanted to submit to anyone more in my life,” she manages to whisper, clear as water.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she manages to hear Sirius curse from his spot across the room, but it’s lost to the reward of Remus’ tongue flattening up the length of her.  A horribly loud whimper cracking from her chest as she falls back onto the bed, back arching to press herself further into his mouth.

His scarred hands guide her thighs over his shoulders as he proceeds to eat her like it’s his sole career. His tongue fucking into her as far as he can manage, curling and leaving to lave over her clit and back again. There’s a groan that he rumbles into her when she tries unsuccessfully to clench around him.  

“Such a pretty girl, bunny.” Sirius praises softly, sounding more the worse for wear. Her head tips to face him, watching his ring clad hand palm over the prominent bulge in his trousers. “That’s it, baby. Let moons take good care of you.”

Her eyes flutter shut at the smoke of the animagus’ voice, her hands scrambling to bury themselves in Remus’ hair. He hums his approval against her, doing some ungodly motion with his tongue inside her that has her thighs trembling on his shoulders.

“Be a good girl and give me what I want, bunny.” It’s spoken as a command, slightly muffled against her core. Smooth lips moving to suck her clit, two fingers thrusting in and catching her by surprise. They curl perfectly, leaving her back arching.

A soft sob fleeing her lips as she shakes against him, gushing into his mouth just as he’d asked. The feeling ebbing out with the soft slowing pumps of his fingers, leaving her boneless against the downy covers.

He laves his tongue over her one last time, prompting a whine to leave her throat. He rises from between her legs, gentle hands unknotting the tie round her neck and tossing it aside. His fingers are a lot more steady than hers would have been as he unbuttons her shirt.

“Up, bunny,” he instructs softly. She shifts further onto the bed, briefly rising to slip out of her shirt.

Something sticks in her throat at the sight of him crawling up her body, even after it becomes a rather regular occurrence. He smiles softly at her, leaving her smiling back and humming when he kisses it from her lips. His tongue sneaks into her mouth and she moans at the taste of herself on his lips.

“Get on all fours and face Sirius,” it’s not a question when it’s murmured against her lips. She shudders at the calm dominance in his voice.

She moves obediently when he rises to shift behind her, worrying at her bottom lip when she sees Sirius’ hand pumping his length.

“Hi pads,” she breathes softly. It ends on a breathy note due to the surprise of Remus pressing a lingering kiss to her ass cheek - first the right, and then the left. She jolts with a soft impatient sound at the gentle scrape of his teeth against the skin.

“Hi bunny,” Sirius murmurs back, equally as breathless.

Her arms shake at the feeling of Remus running the head of his cock along the length of her, falling onto her forearms and leaving her ass perfectly presented for him.

He gives a soft laugh that turns into a rumbled groan as he slowly thrusts into her, her lips parting despite not a single sound leaving her.

“Such a perfect little student,” Black rasps warmly.

“Sirius,” she moans out in a way entirely more breathless than she anticipated.

Remus’ hand winds into her hair, pulling enough to leave her looking directly up at her other lover. His hips snapped forward hard enough to have her cursing raggedly.

“I don’t believe that’s my name, bunny.” Lupin’s pulling out almost enough to leave her entirely before thrusting in roughly enough to leave her aching.

“Remy,” she’s calling out softly. It’s a gentle pleading murmur and it leaves him humming in response.

The rhythm he sets has her hands clenching in the blankets, his fingers leaving her hair to roam over her hips. Scarred hands gripping her to pull her back into his thrusts, groaning when she leans fully into the push and pull of it.

“You know what I thought about that class?” The lycanthrope suddenly murmurs, arm wrapping around her waist to pull her up until her back pressed against his chest.

A perfect view for Sirius to watch Remus’ cock fuck into her.

“W-What, professor?”

And Lupin is smiling breathlessly at her managing to still commit to this little game. His hand moving to pinch her nipple in reward, delighting in her squirming further back into him.

“Breeding you,” he rumbles softly.

Sirius curses loudly, the sentiment only echoed by Remus when she flutters around him at the statement. His fingers move to circle her clit, not easing up even when she squirms to escape the pressure.

“And I was right, wasn’t I? Nothing prettier than the sight of you, pumped full and making a mess of the sheets.” His words falter with a groan when her head turns to press a feverish kiss to his jaw, the angle not quite perfect.

“Gonna show pads how much of a good girl you are, sweetheart?” His hands ease her back onto her elbows, pumping into her faster at the ease of position.

He knows she’s close by the way she’s clenching around him, laving his tongue over his fingers and drawing tight circles around her clit. She’s whining out a mixture of a curse and a ‘thank you’ as she shudders around him. The feeling curling her toes and leaving her panting into the sheets.

It’s only heightened by the pace of his thrusts quickening and faltering, a groan sticking in his throat as he thrusts in deep and finds his release. A shiver running the course of her spine at the sensation.

She’s breathless and warm against the sheets when he guides her to lay on her side, never leaving her to curl with his chest to her back. A sleepy hum buzzing against her lips when she looks to see Sirius smiling at her from the armchair. His release cooling on his thighs and Remus manages a small laugh when she mutters something about ‘such a waste’ under her breath.

Sirius makes a content sound in his chest as he studies his two lovers spread across his bed, head tilting in consideration. “Do remind me to get you gifts more often, Remus.”

HARRY POTTER UNIVERSE:

Sirius Black:

Ship in a Bottle ☼ - sirius/female reader/remus

Teacher’s Pet ☼ - sirius/female reader/remus (mainly remus)

Remus Lupin:

Ship in a Bottle ☼ - sirius/female reader/remus

Teacher’s Pet ☼ - sirius/female reader/remus 

Lucius Malfoy:

The tiny stout innkeeper had rented them the room easy enough - taking stock of the young brunette, the rather gentle looking man with her, and their large mangy black hound that seemed quite attached to the girl’s hip. The girl had been ever so polite and far be it from her to judge their age difference since herself and her husband were twenty years apart themselves.

Her weathered hands had pressed the key into the girl’s with good faith and a soft smile.

How silly, putting such faith in a pretty smile, Lupin reflects whilst loping gracefully down the shabby little corridor to their room. The paper under his arm crinkles against his sweater sleeve, careful to have rolled it so that the moving pictures were hidden from muggle eyes.

If that old woman had known that the sweet girl had been traveling with not only one older man, but two (and one being a literal fugitive at that) - she may have been a bit more reluctant.

His scarred hand turns the knob of their one bedroom, entering and shutting the door softly. In the deepest, most self aware part of his mind, Remus realizes that really the revelation of their marriage being false would be the real scandal to the ancient innkeeper.

His amber toned gaze flickering to the wedding ring on his finger against the cool brass of the knob, settling into soft reflection before the sound of sweet little sigh meets his ears. His attention turns over his shoulder to focus on the glitter of the ring matching his own where it shines on a finger half buried in black whorls.

“Good morning,” he intones in a deadpan, though a quirk of a smile affects the corner of his scarred lips.

There’s a hum from Sirius’ place between the girl’s legs, her plush thighs hooked over either of his bare shoulders. The brunette herself props up onto her elbows to meet Remus’ gaze, she smiles at the sight of him and though he’s seen it many a morning now - it still causes his heart to stutter in his chest.

“Mornin’ moony,” comes her soft sleepy voice and Lupin’s cheeks warm in spite of himself. She more often than not has a way about her that makes him feel like a silly schoolboy.

Sirius offers no more than the first hum he gave, smooth lips busying themselves tracing kisses along her inner thigh. Calloused hand tracing further to thumb over her bare hip where the hem of her oversized shirt is rucked up.

“You’re awfully active for so early in the day,” the lycanthrope remarks coolly. He winks at the girl before tentatively taking a seat in the battered armchair next to the corner of the armoire.

The brunette flushes at the sight of him settling in to watch them both, casting her eyes down to where Sirius nips at her skin. His deep gray eyes moved to meet her stare, winking not unlike Remus had just done before pressing a gentle kiss to her clit. Her hips jump in sync with her upper half flopping back onto the bed causing the animagus between her legs to give a soft laugh.

Part of her wonders if they communicate telepathically.

“Funny of you to insinuate I ever miss a meal, Remus.” Sirius flattens his tongue against her, flatly licking up the length of her. Lupin good naturedly laughs through his nose, head tilting to better see the way Sirius has begun to fuck his tongue into her.

“I find myself very committed to breakfast these days,” the animagus jokes softly. The words quickly drop off into a groan as she scratches her nails gently against his scalp. A frankenstein mixture of a sob and a whine stuck in her throat, hips trying to pitch upward further into his mouth.

“Ass,” she manages to grit out between her teeth. Sirius hums and slides a thick finger into her, curling it just so and effectively robbing her of speech.

“Careful, little one, or he’ll accuse you of playing favorites next.” Remus’ tone is all warmth and fondness, her gaze moving to meet his. She whines when her eyes find him loosening his belt, hand clenching in the covers in a sad attempt to stave reaching out to him.

Sirius adds a second finger, pumping them steadily in time with the sucking kisses he presses to her clit. “I know you don’t have a favorite, little bunny,” the reassuring words are practically said into her as he seems regretful to have to pull away to even speak them. His smooth lips pull into a smile before he carefully bites into the soft flesh of her thigh, curling his fingers against that spot only they ever seem to find.

“Remus just gives you whatever you want when you want it and I make you beg for it, hmm?” His fingers have now slowed to a horrible jarring crawl, letting the wave that was building settle like a stone between her hips.

An agonized noise fleeing her lips, pretty head tipping toward where Remus is now pumping over his length. The corner of his mouth is quirked up into a knowing smile, very aware that she has him wrapped around her little finger.

“So cruel, aren’t I, bunny?” Sirius’ smile is pressed into her skin, mustache tickling her thigh whilst he nips  at her before dipping back down to run his tongue up the length of her.

Her back arches at the sudden stimulation, fingers curling through his hair encouragingly. Plush lips part to let loose a litany of pleases and mores, Sirius groaning at the gentle break in her chest with the speech.

“I’d have already let her cum by now,” Remus remarks teasingly. Her watery eyes catching him whilst his tongue runs over his lips, he smiles at her soft keening murmur. “My pretty little wife.”

If she had to name the noise the animagus makes into her, she would call it a scoff. He thrusts two fingers into her punishingly, causing a choked off breath to stutter in her chest - “God, Sirius, please.”

“Oh sure, you get to be married and I get to be the family pet,” comes his slightly bitter voice slick smeared against her skin. He’s curled his fingers to find that spot he’d merely teased before and has focused on it, determined.

She’s clenching hotly around his fingers, hands scrambling to try and press him closer. Those crystalline grey eyes flicker from her face to her core and back again, softening from his earlier bristle at the sight of her.

“Come on, bunny. Give it to me,” he murmurs into her skin. It’s as if the words struck a match against her. Her back arches fully, a breathy whine leaving her chest as she cums harshly against his lips. He continues to lick into her like a man starved, drinking her down greedily.

He sucks his fingers clean when he gently eases them from her, watching the brunette take deep breaths against the sheets. He presses a kiss to her core one last time, like he was mournful to leave his space between her legs. His lean frame moves up until they’re eye to eye.

The animagus can practically feel the cartoon hearts blooming in his eyes as he looks down on her, gently brushing the little curls from her face. She smiles dazedly up at him, a little out of breath.

“Good doggy,” she murmurs brightly.

There’s a brief moment of stunned silence before Remus barks out the loudest and lightest laugh she’s ever heard, entirely youthful in the way it echoes through their little room. Sirius is diving to bite harshly down on her neck whilst she dissolves into a fit of laughter.

“Very funny,” Black intones flatly. Though he has a soft, fond smile curling his smooth lips.

“I thought so,” Remus murmurs from his place in the armchair.

“Since it’s so terribly comical to all involved, you wouldn’t mind getting on your hands and knees for me then, hmm, bunny?” Sirius is nosing gently along the slope of her neck.

His head lifts to meet the most positively devious smile on her pretty face, her lips part and he has absolutely no doubt of the remark that’s about to leave them. A large ring clad hand quickly lifting and curling around her throat, fingers squeeze gently at the sides in warning.

“A single dog related remark out of you and I’ll make sure you don’t cum for a week, is that clear, pretty girl?” Sirius’ voice is a gentle deadly quiet, and if she was anyone else - she’d be rather afraid. But she’s not just  anyone else. So she slowly seals her lips where they still smile brightly, lazily blinking up at her lover fondly.

Remus snorts as he rises from his place, moving to stand at the end of the downy bed. His hand is clenched around the very base of his cock, watching as the brunette moves obediently on her hands and knees. Her pretty face tipping upwards towards him, arching her back to where Sirius kneels behind her.

“Hi moony,” she breathes prettily.

A pleased hum leaving her when the lycanthrope gently cups her face in his hands and brings her lips to his own. Her arms loop around his shoulders, his scarred hands raising to trail up along her stomach until the hem of her shirt. He nips at her bottom lip, breaking the kiss to drag her shirt over her head. Quickly capturing her lips again as soon as the offending article hits the floor.

His tongue traces the seam of her lips, groaning into her mouth when her delicate hand closes around his length. She gently pumps him, tracing her tongue along his bottom lip. The kiss finally breaks when she tosses her head back to let out a little keening whine.

“Forget I was back here, did you?” Sirius teases through grit teeth, thrusting in slowly until his hips were flush with her ass.

“Of course I didn’t, pads. Moons was just looking like he missed me,” her voice is beautifully breathy. Her thumb traces along Lupin’s sharp jaw, leaving him to lean back against Sirius’ chest.

Remus’ head tilts, those consistently soulful amber eyes trailing down to wear the two are joined. The animagus thrusts his hips against her, trying to press closer if that were even possible. The movement forced a gasp from her plush lips.

“Of course he missed you, bunny. Didn’t you, moony?” Sirius smiles softly, his smooth lips pressed a kiss behind her ear before pulling out achingly slow and thrusting back in. There’s a pleased rumble in his chest at the whimper it prompts from her.

“Desperately,” Remus murmurs much too fast. His gaze stuck on where she’s currently soaking his best friend’s cock.

Her lips are softly parted, running her tongue over them at the sight of Lupin in front of her. Sirius’ hips have begun a steady rhythm that has her clenching harshly around him, her hand moving back to run through the hair at the nape of his neck.

She moves away from Sirius down onto her palms to be level with Remus’ cock, her spit slick lips pressing a soft kiss to the head.

“Let me? please,” she breathes onto him, her tongue softly laving across the slit.

“Anything you want,” Remus replies softly, once again responding much faster than he would’ve liked.

She smiles all the same, parting her lips and swallowing him down.  The lycanthrope’s shaky hand moves to slide into her hair, gathering the curls between his fingers whilst she hums around him. Her tongue swirls around the head before he gently thrusts into her mouth, sliding out whilst she keens at the slight loss of him.

Sirius groans behind her at the sight, moving his hips so the two were in sync. One in and the other out, alternating their thrusts in a way that made her head spin pleasantly.

Their fucking telepathy again.

She sucks harder around Remus, desperately chasing the clean taste of him. He curses softly in his throat. His hand tightens in her hair, fucking into her mouth harder. An encouraging hum buzzes in her throat as he chases his release.  

Sirius’ hips speed up to match pace, a sound that’s practically a purr leaving his throat. “Look at you, bunny. Taking us so well,” he praises raggedly.

Her back arches, hips pushed up further for him whilst he gives a soft laugh. Sirius thrusts harder, forcing her to swallow more of the lycanthrope.

“I’m sure if Remus knew it would end like this, he would’ve parted those pretty legs and eaten you right on his school desk.” She can hear the smile in the animagus’ voice.

“Such a sweet little intern you must’ve made,” Sirius murmurs.

She moans needily around Lupin’s cock, his pace stuttering in response.

“Oh fuck you,” Remus grits. His jaw clenching with the effort it’s taking not to cum down her throat.

“Bet you would’ve tasted extra sweet on his break hour, hmm, bunny?” His voice is something so dark and gravelly, it’s making her heart seize in her chest.

She cries out as Black’s calloused finger slides down to rub small circles around her clit, bucking her hips against him at the sudden sensation.

Remus knows he isn’t going to last much longer, not when she’s whining so prettily around him. He curses, fucking deep into her throat and groaning his release. He tries to pull away, but her hand on his hips stills him. She makes a grateful little sound, swallowing his release.

She pulls away to gasp in a breath, whimpering when Remus raises her to gather her into his arms and press his lips to hers.

“She would’ve,” the lycanthrope confirms softly, watching her teary eyes widen at his words.

“Fuck, bunny,” Sirius grits though his teeth as she clenches harshly around him.

Lupin’s fingers move to take over for the animagus, rubbing hard little circles not easing up with her desperate squirming.

“Thought about it more than once,” Remus leans so his lips are at her ear. He notices Sirius’ hips stutter with a soft grin, fucking glutton for punishment. “Bending her over my desk, cleaving my tongue between those thighs, pressing her chest to the wood while I fuck her until she’s a whining mess.”

The lycanthrope’s scarred hand lifts to hold her opposing cheek, nosing along her jawline whilst he talks. “Come on, little one. Cum for me, sweetheart,” his teeth tease a bite along her throat. He sucks a kiss there as she cries out, trembling against his hands and gushing onto Sirius.

Black groans loud and ragged, rhythm faltering as he presses further into her and finds his release. He stills to fill her, making a please sound in his chest when she whines and squirms against him. He slides out of her, humming softly whilst guiding her to sit back against his chest.

Remus is finally sliding off his trousers, pulling the sweater over his head to join them. His enamored amber gaze met the girl’s softened stare, her lips cracking a soft smile.

“You have a thing for me, Professor?”

He rumbles an annoyed sound in his throat, leaning in to silence her with a kiss whilst Sirius snickers. “Very funny,” he parrots Sirius’ earlier words.

Remus guides them all to lay back, leaving her in the middle stretching languidly between the two. He watches her hand stretch back and curl into Sirius’ hair tenderly. The animagus throws a hand across her waist and wretches her back flush against his chest, Lupin hums whilst moving to fill in the space at her front.

“Good doggies,” she murmurs sleepily. Ever needing to have the last word.

Sirius snorts from where his face is buried in her messy curls and Remus smiles so brightly his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“You’ll pay for that later, you know,” Black murmurs softly.

“She will not and you know it,” Lupin breathes. His gaze watches her smile prettily at him before she presses a kiss to the tip of his nose then promptly buries her face into the crook of his neck.

“No, probably not,” Sirius remarks amusedly.