Marvelettes Assemble

Outside of helping younger students face their fears from the likes of Professor Snape or the animals Hagrid took great care of, you didn’t particularly talk to people. Apart from Fred – and from there, his friends. 

Either way, nobody ever really came close to touching you. If anybody asked (particularly Fred) about your affliction with touching, you would have laughed. You didn’t have anything against hugging, or leaning or holding hands. In fact, you came from a family of huggers. 

It was just…unless somebody needed one, you mostly kept your distance. 

Apart from when it came to Fred. 

In third year when people were witnessing their boggarts, Fred could see the fear behind the brave face you put up. Instinctively, he reached out and held your hand. And you…didn’t let go. 

In fourth year, when Ginny went missing and both Fred and George were losing their minds – George went in search of Ron whilst you stayed with Fred. 

“Fred, you’re sending me dizzy,” you muttered as he paced back and forth in front of the fire. “Somebody will find her. She’ll be safe.”

“How!? How could you possibly know that?!” 

On the edge of tears, you quickly stood up and hugged Fred. It was tight. But not suffocating. 

“She’ll be safe.” You told him. “I just know it.”

“She’s just a kid,” Fred’s voice was weak. “She’s…she’s my little sister.”

You swallowed hard. At that moment, somebody had to hold the other one up. So, you did. Staying by Fred’s side the whole time, you made sure he didn’t tear a hole in the castle walls trying to find his sister. 

In between the bigger moments, people bared witness to Fred’s arm draped over your shoulder when walking down the hall, or walking off the pitch after Quidditch. They noticed the way you always leaned into him when sitting on the sofa together, his arm across the back of you. 

They spotted the hand you kept on Fred’s shoulder when he wanted to bang his head against the desk during study prep for his OWLs. They also spotted how, in the Great Hall, you’d lean on each other from time to time, mostly when you were too tired to keep your heads up. 

Then came the Christmas Fred brought you along to the Burrow. 

Even Molly and Arthur were convinced you were dating. 

The longing looks despite being sat opposite one another at the table. The brief touches as you brushed past each other in the kitchen. The way you knew the difference between the Twins; Molly and Arthur were their parents and even they struggled sometimes. 

Then came the quick flash they caught of you both under the mistletoe. For weeks the entire family debated whether you’d kissed Fred’s cheek like you said, or if you’d shared a quick kiss and were still trying to lead people astray from the truth. 

More evidence accumulated over the years from the ‘love notes’ being sent between both yourself and Fred during the summer break, to the way Fred danced with you at the Yule Ball despite asking somebody else. 

The final nail in the coffin came when Ron accidentally smashed a vial of Amortentia, or more commonly known as a love potion. Meant to smell as the things you find most attractive, plenty of Gryffindors walked in asking why the common room smelled of everything; from fresh parchment and lilies, to sea water and Hippogriff manure. 

But the most interesting exclamation came from you. 

“Sweet Merlin!” you exclaimed as you opened the common room door. The smell hit you in the face worse than any bludger did during midnight quidditch. “Holy- When did Fred spill a bottle of his cologne?” 

Fred wasn’t even in the room. 

But George was. As was Harry, Hermione, Ron and half a dozen other Gryffindor students. 

“Is it getting stronger?” You asked as you passed the group on the way towards your dormitory to get changed. 

Everyone’s eyes followed you and once the door closed, they all turned back to the damp spot in the carpet in front of the fire. 

You were in love with Fred.

“You don’t think…” Harry started before turning to Ron. 

“No. It couldn’t possibly…could it?”

They all looked at George, whose attention fell on the door as Fred finally joined them. 

“We’re about to find out,” he whispered. 

Looking as if he’d just been hit in the face with an invisible bludger, Fred scrunched his nose. 

“Does it smell funny to you in here, George?”

Everyone looked at him. “Uhh…not really. Why do you ask?”

Fred shrugged, laying his robes over the back of a chair. “Just smells…”

“Bad?”

Fred shook his head. “No. It…” Fred was shocked at his own revelation. “It kinda smells like someone bottled up the Quidditch pitch back at home. And…” Fred sniffed again. “And-”

Suddenly, at the top of the stairs, you appeared again. Dressed in normal clothing, you hopped down the stairs. 

“Y/n, what were those muggle cakes we made over the summer?”

Both yourself and Fred were oblivious to everybody’s eyes widening. 

“What cakes?” You asked as you searched the common room for something.

“The ones that I burned my hands on.”

“Oh, salted caramel and raspberry.”

Fred nodded, looking back to his brother. “Them.”

“What about them?” You were still searching for something. 

“I can smell them,” Fred told you, nonchalantly. 

“Funny, all I can smell is you.”

Fred furrowed his brows before smelling himself. “Funny, I haven’t had Quidditch practice today and what are you looking for?”

“Not you,” you sighed, lifting the cushion but finding nothing underneath it. “You smell fine,” you told him. “Your cologne. Did you spill a bottle? Where the hell are my glasses?”

As you walked past him, Fred reached out and pulled you back in front of him. “Check your head, love.”

Reaching up, a wave of relief went through you. “Oh, thank Merlin.”

“And, no, I didn’t spill a bottle. Though, I guess I could ask you the same.”

Puzzled and looking at each other, you tried to figure out what the hell he meant. But when you both turned to everyone else, they pretended to be preoccupied with, quite literally, anything else. George even took up whistling. 

“I’ve gotta go, Sprout is waiting for me. Bye guys.”

“Bye!”

“See ya!”

“Yeah, bye.”

Fred chuckled, nodding to the door. “Weird one, that one.”

George and everyone chuckled as Fred went to get dressed, but the minute the door closed, they all looked at one another. 

“They have to know?” Hermione pointed out. “Don’t they?”

“It didn’t look like it.”

“The pair of them are idiots,” George said. “Maybe that’s why they’re so well suited.”

“Or maybe they’re playing us.” Hermione added. “It could all just be an act.”

George looked over to her and shook his head. “Fred tells me everything. He told me that they’re not dating.”

George and the others watched on in agony for another year. Despite the amount of times you and Fred had denied it, everyone was still convinced you were dating. 

Which all came to a head during seventh year Christmas. 

You’d had a rather gruelling detention with Umbridge, which continued on for three consecutive days after classes had finished. 

First, it was because you spoke without raising your hand. 

Next, it was because you slammed her office door shut as you left the first detention. 

Then it was because you ‘stuck your nose’ into ‘private’ business between herself and a third year student she was reprimanding. 

Your hands were scored to buggary, but the pain of knowing Umbridge was taking charge of the school was bigger than the cursed quill she’d made you use. 

“You need something on these,” Fred whispered to you as he examined your hand. You’d all been sitting, freezing, in the Hog’s Head for the last ten minutes, waiting for the final few people. 

“I’ll live, Fred.”

“You’re freezing,” he said as he held your hand. 

“Gloves hurt too much to put on. I’ll be fine once we get back to the castle.”

Fred just shook his head, though. Engulfing your hand in his, he held your hand inside his pocket with his own. 

By the time the first meeting of the newly named Dumbledore’s Army was finished, you and Fred took your time walking back to the castle. 

“I can’t bear going back right now and seeing her strut around the place like she owns it.”

Fred paused for a moment. “Fancy taking a walk to the shrieking shack?”

George being pulled away by Angelina Johnson and the others going on a hunt for a space to start their lessons, you and Fred took a detour to the Shrieking Shack. 

Hurrying ahead of Fred, you sat on one of the rocks, picking up a pile of snow before pressing it into the back of your hand. It was freezing, but it helped stop the burn of the healing. 

“You know she uses pink sugar, too.”

“Why don’t I find that surprising?”

You nodded. “My mum sent me a package the other day. She’s made a scarf. It had one row of pink in it and I sent it back. I can’t even look at the colour anymore. Not without feeling sick.”

“I’m sorry she put you through that,” Fred said before clarifying. “Umbridge. Not you mum. Though, I suppose her, too. Even though she didn’t know.”

You chuckled softly before leaning into Fred. On instinct, he raised his arm and pulled you closer before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

“Thanks.”

“I am taking you to Madam Pomfry when we get back, though. She regrew Harry’s bones. She has to have something to help those scars.”

You nodded, looking down at your hand long enough to read the sentences. 

I must be quiet.

I must mind my manners.

Before you could read the others, Fred covered your hand with his own before lifting it and pressing a soft kiss to your skin. 

“It’ll get better. What with Harry teaching us and all…”

“Yeah…” You looked up to Fred, him meeting your gaze. “I hope so.”

Fred smiled at you before pressing a kiss to your forehead as you eyes closed, trying your best to soak in the feeling of it being just you and him. 

No school rules. 

No torture. 

No Umbridge. 

Just…

Peace. 

True Peace. 

“Well, don’t you two look cosy,” George smiled as he entered the Gryffindor common room. 

You’d been lying on the floor with your head on Fred’s lap. You’d just been starting to drift off; the mixture of Fred playing with your hair and his cologne still circling around the common room every now and again, was making you sleepy. 

“You know, it’s because of things like this that everyone thinks you’re dating,” George pointed out, hanging his coat and scarf by the door. 

“Let em’ think what they want. I’m comfy.” 

You heard Fred chuckle above you. “There’s no-one I’d rather be in a fake relationship than you, love.”

“That’s nice to hear, dear.”

“Seriously, guys!” George couldn’t help but laugh. “Seven years. Seven years of this. Please. For the love of all the good that is left in this dark, dark world. ADMIT IT. If not, START. For the love of Merlin.”

“Just because she chose the better looking twin.”

“Yeah, Weasley. Don’t get your knickers in a twist. If you want me to tell people I’m dating you instead, I’d happily oblige.”

“Hey,” Fred called out. “You’re fake-dating me, remember?”

You held back your smile. “How could I forget? Such a handsome face,” you said as you reached up and met Fred’s gaze. 

Both of you heard George groan before storming off to his dorm. “Why do I even bother with you two?”

“Because you love us.”

You both heard George groan again before shutting his door, the laughter you and Fred were sharing echoing around the room. 

It was a few hours later when George came back downstairs to find the common room empty. Save for you and Fred who’d fallen asleep on the floor by the fire. 

“Spooning,” George let out in quiet shock. 

It was driving him batty. Not knowing the truth which lay right in front of him, as well as having his own brother – his own twin – lie right to his face. It was driving him absolutely batty!

Usually if people fell asleep in the common room, they’d magically find themselves in their beds, no doubt put there by the House Elves who would come round and clean in the middle of the night. 

But when George came down the next morning, he found both yourself and Fred in the exact same position. Though he shouldn’t have been surprised. The death grip Fred had around your middle was probably too strong to separate you both. 

“Oi!”

George kicked both of your feet, watching you wake up in shock. 

“What time is it? Are we late for class?”

“I should hope not,” Fred mumbled. “It’s Sunday.”

“Did we stay down here all night?”

“Seems that way.”

“You’re gonna be late for breakfast. Come on.”

Fred smiled at his brother as he helped him from the floor. “Not gonna ask how we slept, Georgie?”

George laughed. “I don’t have to. You two looked pretty cosy.”

This time, Fred reached down and hauled you to your feet, catching you as you stumbled a little. 

“Alright?”

You nodded, holding your head. “Yeah. I think you need to use less cologne, though.”

“Did you squirt it up your nose or something?” Fred chuckled. “I’m not wearing any.”

That was when you caught the look on George’s face. “What’s the guilty look for? What? Did you steal his? Oh, please don’t tell me you’re planning on pulling a switch-a-roo on Umbridge?”

“What?” Both of them asked, genuinely shocked. “No.”

“But Y/n’s got a point. You are looking rather guilty.”

“Nope. No guilt here. None whatsoever.”

“Me thinks thy lady doth protest too much.”

“What is it George?” 

A tired look from you and the persistent ‘twin’ look from Fred had him cracking. “Fred didn’t spill his cologne.”

“Did you spill his cologne?”

George shook his head. “No. But Ron did spill…” George bit his lip for a moment. “Look, there’s no use in hiding it anymore. Ron spilled a vial of love potion on the carpet last year. That’s why you can smell Fred all the time and that is why, Fred, you can smell Y/n when she’s not even in the room.”

“What?” You both asked. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“We thought you’d figure it out!”

“Figure out what?” 

George wanted to scream. “Oh for Merlin’s sake- You love each other, you complete and utter idiots! Love! Love potion! You only smell who you’re most attracted to and in love with!” George groaned. “And- oh, I’m not explaining this to you. Come and find us when you’ve figured it out.”

As George left the common room, he looked like he should have been walking straight back to bed to sleep for half a century. 

“So…”

“We’re in love with each other.”

“And…”

“We’re the last ones to know about it.” Fred finished. 

Looking up at him, you weren’t quite sure what to do. It should have been a rather shocking revelation, but instead you were more surprised by the group's ability to keep a secret than you were by your feelings for Fred. 

Fred smiled. “You’re more shocked by them, than us, aren’t you?”

You nodded. “Well…yeah! Someone goes missing inside the Chamber of Secrets in the middle of the night and the entire school knows about it before everyone’s even woke up.”

Fred laughed, laying his arm over your shoulders. “Come on, Love. Let’s get you some tea and toast. Might help with that headache.”

Despite talking though and eventually realising the full extent of your feelings for one another, your first kiss with Fred wasn’t until the first night you stayed with him at The Burrow that Christmas. 

-

Somehow, in the darkness of the evening, the Burrow glows against the countryside, warm light spilling from the windows. You see a faint light coming from the twins’ window, and sprint inside.

“Oh, darling,” Molly says softly, and pulls you in for an embrace. “Thank you for getting here so quickly. He’s—” she’s dabbing her eyes and sniffling before she can finish her sentence, which sends your thoughts spiraling. With a quick squeeze of her hand, you’re off in a flash – your legs are carrying you up the steps faster than you can register, floorboards creaking beneath your feet, before you’re standing in the doorway breathing heavily, nearly folding at the seams at the sight in front of you.

Fred, cheeky as ever, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, turns to his disfigured twin. “Told you she’d come storming in here like a hurricane.” To you, he winks and then softens at the panicked look on your face. “He – he’s fine, really,”

“Honestly, Fred,” you begin, slapping him with your hand. He fake winces. “Can’t you just be serious for one moment?”

Mockingly, he brings a hand to his heart. “I haven’t got a serious bone in my body, I’m afraid. It’s like you don’t know us but at all.”

You shut your eyes, half-annoyed and half-relieved, that they’re both here, they’re both alive, and pull him into a bone-crushing embrace. You did in fact, storm in there like a hurricane, and yet now that you’re here, in their childhood bedroom, Quidditch posters on the wall, prototypes of old inventions and ghosts of who they were as children in every square inch of the space, you can’t bring yourself to look at George.

Until he speaks.

“Oi,” he calls, raising a hand from the bed. It’s covered in blood. “I’m the injured one here, why aren’t I getting an embrace?”

You and Fred pull apart. He snorts back a laugh and says to George, “You just want to get your hands on her, is all.”

When you finally turn to look at him, you swallow over a lump that’s lodged itself in your throat, and George manages a wink. “Reckon you’re right.”

At some point throughout this whole ordeal, you’d started crying, you just didn’t know when. Your cheeks are now tearstained, sniffles rising to the surface, and you can hardly even manage to crack a grin at his horrendous flirting. You normally always do. His grin softens, before vanishing completely. “Hey,” he sticks out his hand weakly. “Come ‘ere.”

You let go of Fred now and make your way over to the bed tentatively. His ear is entirely gone. It’s covered in blood, which has matted down his hair in a deep red clump. There’s blood stained against the side of his face and down his neck, and across his shirt. You look away, through the window at the moonlight spilling in. Though your eyes are too blurry to really notice it.

George takes your hand in his and gently guides you to the bed. “Please, sit,” he croaks out. And so you do. With his clean hand, he reaches out, wiping a tear from your cheek, pushing your hair behind your ear. And you’re putty in his hands.

It hasn’t always been this way. Not when you were young. You could handle his flirty grins, that bubbling laughter, his over-the-top antics and the horrendously cringey yet funny way he’d call you “love” when trying to be obnoxious. It used to be so easy to dart from. But something changed over the years. Your heart began to hammer when his eyes would find yours in the busy Great Hall, your breath would hitch whenever he grabbed your hand to drag you onto the Quidditch pitch late at night to practice, and now…

You shut your eyes and try to swallow down your tears, but it’s no use. They fall voluntarily from your eyes. You can still feel his fingers brushing your clenched jaw line. “You didn’t tell me.” You mean, of course, the moving of Harry Potter, the taking of the Polyjuice Potion, the putting their lives at risk by quite literally becoming him and dodging the most evil of wizards left and right in the air. You finally open your eyes, and George’s face has gone from his usual happy, cheeky self, to more solemn. More sorry. You turn to look at Fred now. “Either of you.”

“We wanted too, Y/N,” Fred says, “but we didn’t want you worrying for no reason.”

George’s voice sounds a bit stronger. “We knew you’d worry.”

“I always worry!” you snap, and both twins tense a bit. “But that’s not the point! The point is, you should’ve told me! And it’s not for no reason, Fred!” Your deep breaths feel like breathing fire. It’s coursing through your veins. You will yourself to calm down. Through another long deep breath, you run a hand through your hair and laugh a bit – not your usual laugh, but more exasperated. Desperate. “I’m sorry. But you could’ve been killed!” you cry, squeezing George’s hand. “Either of you!”

George takes his chances on joking. “Suppose it’s lucky I wasn’t, then.”

“Lucky,” you spurt out, laughing in disbelief. “Right.”

Somehow, he’s able to sit up with as much strength as he can muster, and a little help from you, until he’s upright. It’s paining him, you can see it, but you also know he won’t stop, so it’s no use trying to bother to get him to lie back down. He rests his forehead on your shoulder for a moment to catch his breath, and you place a hand on his back to steady him. Finally, he looks up at you. “I’m sorry. You’re right, we should’ve told you. But I promise I’m okay.”

“Thank Merlin.”

You grab the washcloth from his bedside table and gently press it to the side of his face, careful not to touch his ear. The blood is starting to come off. He closes his eyes, breathes in and out slowly, and lets you do what you must to feel better. Silence stretches between you both, only the hollow sound of creaky steps and muffled chatter from floors above filling the air.

You think maybe he’s fallen asleep in that upright position. “Does it hurt?” you ask, almost a whisper, and his eyes flutter open.

“Only when I smile,” he says.

“Oh, well, good thing you never do that,” you finally tease.

He cracks a grin. Not his normal cheeky one. This one’s softer, gentler. He brings his own hand to his face, covering yours with his fingers, weakly.

Across the room in the entryway, reminding you both of his presence with a little startle, Fred clears his throat. “Are you two planning on making heart eyes at one another all night, or shall I fetch us all a cup of tea?”

“Don’t think I won’t use a biting doorknob on you when you least expect it,” George fires jokingly, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of you.

Smiling, you turn to Fred and say, “Tea sounds lovely.”

Fred vanishes down into the kitchen, and you’re left alone with George. You help him to lay back down after cleaning his hair, helping Molly bandage him up, and placing him into a more comfortable pyjama shirt. He asks you to stay, so you do. After a while, you feel him settle into a deep sleep, his breathing rhythmic, his bandaged ear highlighted by the moonlight flooding the window. You feel a pang in your chest.

But he’s alive. And for now, you can breathe.

-

Morning breaks soft and golden over the Burrow’s fields. What a beautiful day for a wedding. You’re awoken by the kettle making a pot of tea. The usual chatter can be heard throughout the Burrow, and for a moment, you feel like you’ve dreamt it all – the owl, the note, the blood on his shirt – until you hear the twins’ chorused laughter coming from a few floors above.

Right. He’s alive.

He’s hurt, but thank Merlin, he’s alive.

That’s what gets you through the day. You’d like to be laying by his side, but you know he needs his rest before the evening festivities. Plus, it wouldn’t look quite right for George’s friend to crawl underneath the covers with him, nursing him back to health.

You swallow and shove the thought down.

You help where you can – placing decorations, putting up the tent, making sure all is in order with Ginny so Molly doesn’t have to do all of it. Of course, the magic does the heavy lifting. And though you spend most of the day outside, peering up longingly at the house, your heart and mind are with the boy up on the second floor.

In the afternoon, the guests begin to arrive. They’re surprisingly exuberant and excited despite the impending war that rests on the horizon, but you digress – perhaps, that’s all the more reason to have a wedding. Besides, you knew that Fleur would never settle on changing the date. She and Bill were marrying, come hell or high water.

You see him only once before the ceremony: George, a bit pale but more colour in his cheeks than yesterday, dressed smartly in purple with a crisp white bandage tied around his head. You can’t help but laugh – even on his brother’s most important day, he’s still looking mischievous. Wouldn’t be George otherwise. You can see him peering around the crowd, wondering who he’s looking for, hoping he’s looking for you. But when he doesn’t find you, an overly friendly Beauxbatons girl, one of Fleur’s friends from school, inserts herself into the conversation the Weasley family is having, and the ache in your chest doubles.

You place yourself in the crowd with Hermione and Harry, somewhere near the back, and breathe in deeply as you watch the Weasley men take their place next to Bill at the altar. You begin fidgeting with your necklace, only to give yourself something to do instead of staring. But it’s no use. It’s like you’re waiting for his eyes to find yours. And when they do, they soften, and a small smile spreads itself across his lips, and he raises a hand in hello. You do so back before the music swells and the bride is set to marry the groom.

An overwhelmingly stunning ceremony, you watch as Molly dabs at her eyes for her oldest, now married, son. All of the Weasley boys are patting Bill on the back before he takes his place with his wife for their first dance. Silently, Fred slips away from the group, appearing near you with a glass of firewhiskey in his hands. As Bill and Fleur begin to sway to a gentle melody, Fred carefully clinks his glass with yours.

“He’s been watching you all afternoon,” he says matter-of-factly.

You feel your muscles tense. Careful not to show too much emotion, you offer a slight, “Hmm?” pretending to watch the newlyweds. But Fred sees right through you. You’re looking directly at the man who has owned your heart for the better half of your life, keen on not imagining what it would be like for him to love you back. Because he could never. He has never.

“Oh, please,” he huffs, as if he can read your mind. For a moment, you wonder if he can. “You two are horrid at hiding it. Always have been.” Blood pounds in your ears at his words, and you turn toward Fred, confused.

“What do you mean?’

Fred cocks his head and peers at you, with just a smidge of mockery. “Come on, Y/N. The whole world knows he’s loved you for years. Except, I guess, you,” he breathes. You furrow your brow further. If this is true, how did you never know? Why did he never tell you? You suppose, now, for the same reasons you never told him. Self-doubt. Your heart aches in places you didn’t know existed.

Fred turns back to look toward his twin, his jaw tight. “He scared us all half to death last night.” Back to you, he continues. “Don’t miss the chance to tell him whatever you’ve been holding close to you for all these years.”

Silently again, he slips away, vanishing into the crowd of couples who have now joined Bill and Fleur on the dance floor, leaving just you and your racing heart.

-

Music hovers over the grass inside the tent. Couples sway together. Arthur and Molly, looking like love-pinched teenagers, Ron and Hermione holding one another awkwardly, sweetly, Fleur, a radiant bride. You stand near the tent flaps, hands grasped tight around a glass of Firewhiskey that’s nearly finished.

He appears before you, a cheeky grin on his face. “Now what’re you doing all the way over here, looking as beautiful as you do?”

“Chaperoning,” you joke. You feel a chill from outside, the sweet summer air is becoming cooler. Your breath hitches at the word beautiful. You don’t feel it. It’s just a silly blue dress you had hanging in your closet. “Just getting some fresh air.”

“Well, care for a dance?”

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” you grin.

“Nah, doctor's orders – I’ve got to move around a bit – keep the charm in working order.”

Across the room, Fred Weasley grins to himself and turns toward that animated Beauxbatons girl from this afternoon. “Does that doctor happened to be named Fred?”

George smiles fully now. “He does know me best, after all.”

And when he offers you his hand, you take it.

The world shrinks itself down to soft candlelight, rain-damp grass, and a light tune. Carefully, he takes your waist in his hand, holding you as if you’re some delicate glass figurine, and he’ll break you if he squeezes too tight.

Together, you move quietly, with some nervous stolen glances and soft smiles, both a bit unsure at first, but unwilling to let go of one another. The years spill together. You remember the day everything changed – you caught him in the corridors, defending a second year against some nasty Ravenclaw. He was comforting the young boy, his normal mischievous tone nowhere in sight. You didn’t realize how quickly it happened – the way your heart had soared, grin broadened at his softness, but between all the moments afterward of chaos and magic and tomfoolery that took place behind the castle doors, somewhere, somehow, you fell in love.

And if Fred is telling the truth, then so did George.

“I scared you last night, didn’t I?” he asks suddenly.

You look up, taken by surprise. His 6’4 frame is nearly swallowing you whole. “You did.”

“I didn’t mean too,” he admits. Sheepishly, he continues, “Kind of scared myself, actually.”

You squeeze his hand. “I know.”

He continues, “I heard you. Yelling later on, when speaking with Freddie, after I’d fallen asleep. Couldn’t tell if you were angry or panicked.”

“A little bit of both,” you admit. “But don’t worry. I’m not anymore. Angry, I mean.”

Slowly, he twirls you beside candlelight. The music floats between you both. You hate how disturbingly good he looks in purple, and the way it makes you feel all fuzzy. He laughs – that familiar, wonderful sound, and teases, “Wow, didn’t think you’d miss me that much.”

But you’re suddenly not in the mood to joke. “You’re wrong.”

The song changes to something a bit more upbeat, but neither of you move or let go of one another. The crowd blends into hues and shadows of silvery dust, and George moves to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. For a fleeting moment, you can hear nothing but the swift beating of your heart.

His hand stops at your jaw, fingers dancing across your neck, and when his eyes meet yours, everything you’ve both been hiding for years and years lives right there, between you both – years of jokes, secret hand-written letters during lessons, late nights on the Quidditch pitch and all of those almost-moments. Words hover on his lips, and on yours, unnecessary, and unspoken.

And then he leans in slowly, heart pounding, tensions rising, and kisses you.

It’s soft, and quick, and fleeting, and not nearly enough after all the years of waiting. He hovers there for a moment, his lips lightly brushing yours, and you can’t bring yourself to open your eyes for fear that it’ll all be just a dream, it’s all been a dream.

But you do. And he’s there, and he’s real, hunger roaring in his eyes. Your glance drops down to his lips, and you’re not sure how much longer you’ll last before you’ll scream. You take his tie in your hands and gently tug him toward the edge of the tent, through the flaps, and into the darkness of the countryside.

Neither of you say anything. Neither of you have too. You back up toward the entrance of the Burrow, and when you’re both inside, away from the crowd, alone, it’s electrifying and scary and it seems like bottled up feelings are taking over the both of you, and George pushes you against the wall and kisses you fiercely. It’s dizzying and passionate and years of hidden love and more, and you’re kissing him back, hungrily, the fire back in your veins, but a different kind. You both stumble, clumsily, drunkenly, up the stairs, stopping every few feet to hold one another, to remove shoes, and ties, and hair barrettes, when you finally reach the second floor. Again you’re pinned to the doorway, desperate for air as he leaves open-mouthed kisses along your neck and collarbone, his grip on your waist tightening.

“I need you to know,” he says, breathless, still kissing you, “that it’s you. It’s always been you.”

“And it’s always been you, too,” you reply unbuttoning his shirt, careful of his injury. Your dress pools in a mess of blue around your ankles before you’re out of the doorway.

It’s dizzying and dangerous, and you can still hear the music faintly from outside, and the moonlight is spilling in again, and you can’t believe how different the evening before was. You’re both a tangled mess of limbs and sheets, finding one another’s bodies in the darkness, careful, slow, exploring one another to make up for all the time you didn’t.

He pulls away for a moment, body on top of yours, and the way the moonlight highlights his muscles is enough to undo you right there. You’re absolutely desperate for him. His arms are shaky due undoubtedly to nerves, eyes glistening like a wildfire. “I love you.”

A cheeky grin pulls at your face, but you’re unable to respond before he’s silencing you again, slower this time, dragging his tongue over your lip and down your neck, an involuntary moan escaping you. You can feel him smile against you. Your hands tense around his arms. Shit. You didn’t want to give in that quickly.

“Like that, do you?”

“Oh shut up,” you said, pulling him closely again, feeling his hands moving slowly and gently across your abdomen, when you guide him in a way that says yes, more.

He presses his forehead to yours, but his eyes are closed, surely willing himself to also not give in. He wants to be careful with you. Delicate. Slow. You can tell. But you’re ravenous. And you know he is too.

He clenches his jaw tightly. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he admits. Precious glass figurine, and all that.

“You won’t.” You whisper.

It’s more tangled limbs, hungry kisses, curious fingers exploring every inch. Breathless moans fill the room; you can’t even try and hide it anymore. His lips are pressed to your skin, the moonlight highlighting his face, and he looks up at you, eyes glistening with a type of hunger you’ve never seen before. The lava inside of him has turned to raging fire. This is a George you’ve seen only in your mind; countless evenings your head had wandered to places where he and you were giving in to one another. But this side of him, you’re finally experiencing for real. Your heart drums against your chest at the fire in his eyes. His voice is sensuous. Animalistic. “Can I take care of you, love?”

Your heart nearly constricts. You want to scream to the heavens and say yes because the idea of him doing that to you makes your entire body shake, but guilt presses at you. Last night. He’s barely rested and everything’s hazy. “George, your–”

“I’ll be okay,” he says. There’s teasing in his eyes, vapid fire in his veins. He’s eager and starving.

You breathe in deeply, and bite at your bottom lip. He presses more kisses to your chest. “Can I?”

“Yes,” you reply, breathless, and you fall into a drunken type of haziness as he sinks lower in the dark, that infamous smirk painted upon his face as he leaves a trail of kisses down your abdomen.

-

There’s a knock on the door, and suddenly everything is a mixture of bright sunlight, firewhiskey aftermath, and tangled bedsheets. You groan and turn slowly toward your side to see George, shirtless, one eye open. “Morning love,” he grins.

Holy shit. So it hadn’t been a dream. You grin sheepishly.

The door flies open and you jump to cover your own exposed body with the remaining part of the sheet that isn’t on the floor. “Bloody hell, Fred!” you sneer, barely awake. “Could’ve waited a moment!”

“Aww, you two,” he teases, and you groan again, knowing the two of you will never be able to live this one down for as long as you both shall live. “Would’ve loved to have waited, but figured you two would want to make yourselves look presentable before Mum and Dad get down, ‘cause I’m pretty sure they’re awake up there,” Fred winks, tossing you your dress from the floor.

Your cheeks flush crimson red, but George only laughs. “Could you take this more seriously, please, Weasley?” you scoff.

“‘Fraid I can’t, darling,” he says, placing his hands behind his head. “Oh, relax, don’t rush, it’s fine that you spent the night in here” he continues as you try and maneuver your dress back on while still hiding under the sheets. “We’re adults. We’ll just tell Mum you were taking care of me, that's all.”

You heard it before it even left his stupid mouth. Fred snorted immediately, not missing a beat, “Oh she took care of you, alright–”

A dull thwap! of a pillow that you’d thrown against his head knocks Fred a tad off balance, as does his own snickering. Your cheeks are surely that of a tomato now. Embarrassment swallows you whole. “Don’t you have somewhere better to be, Frederick?” you asked through gritted teeth.

“I’ll go put on a pot of tea for you lovebirds,” Fred winks. “Oh, and you’re welcome, by the way, for spending the evening on the couch. My poor body could barely handle it.”

“Do all right then, Fred?” George asks innocently.

But there’s nothing, you’ve come to know in all these years of shenanigans and tomfoolery, that’s innocent about the Weasley twins. Fred leans against the wall, arms crossed, “Had my own bit of Beauxbatons fun.”

“Oi, get out!” you tell him again, half laughter and half annoyance in your voice. You hear Fred’s footsteps retreat down to the first floor, undoubtedly beginning breakfast for a group full of wedding hangovers.

You and George dress quickly, grabbing a pair of pyjamas from your bag so it doesn’t look like you’re doing the walk of shame down to the first floor this morning. Hovering on the staircase, George stops you, and pulls you in closer.

“I meant what I said last night,” he tells you, running a hand through your hair. “I really do love you.”

You bring a gentle hand to his face, and brush your thumb against his cheek. He closes his eyes at your touch, and savors the moment, because the entire Burrow is beginning to wake.

“You didn’t exactly give me a chance to respond last evening,” you wiggle your eyebrows at him and he laughs. “You know I love you too, right?”

“Well, I always assumed, the way you always followed me around–” you swat him with the sleeve of your homemade Weasley sweater. Now, sweeter, more serious, “Now I do.”

He leans in and kisses you once again, and the remnants of heat and passion course through your veins, just for a moment, before you’re melting into his embrace, becoming weak at the knees, not believing this is what you two have been missing out on all these years. Him. Here. Alive. You two, together. At last.

Somewhere nearby, Ron and Harry’s laughter echoes a few staircases above, the morning awakening as if nothing at all has changed.

But for you, everything has.

You think, fleetingly, that love during war feels a bit like dancing on a cliff’s edge — the wind fierce, the view endless, the ground uncertain. Yet somehow, you’re not afraid.

Because he’s holding you, and you’re both still standing.

Portraits snored softly as Y/N passed them by with light footsteps. The lantern in her hand offered enough light to see where she was going but the far ends of the hallway in either direction remained dark. After being a prefect for long enough, however, it was no longer as eerie as it used to be. There was a strange comfort in it, even. It was the most privacy she would get at Hogwarts.

An old wizard in green robes stirred in his sleep and jolted upright, blinking rapidly as Y/N drew closer with the lantern.

“Sorry,” she apologised.

He waved an emerald green sleeve back and forth before she could continue further down the hallway. “Psst! Slytherin girl!”

She stopped and looked at the wizard, raising the lantern to illuminate his portrait. “Yes?”

“Students out of bed,” he muttered. “They came through here not too long ago and woke me from my sleep.”

Y/N sighed. “Alright, I’ll look into it. Thank you. They went this way?” She gestured with the lantern to the other end of the hallway.

“Yes. Go get ‘em, lass,” the wizard grumbled as he sunk back into his chair and closed his eyes, a deep frown on his face.

Y/N turned down her lantern, reducing it to a tiny flame that would not draw attention. Footsteps as quiet as a mouse’s, she hurried down the hallway to try and catch up to the stray students. The area was empty when she looked around but when she listened closely, there were faint noises. Turning left, she grew closer and closer to the muted sounds with every few steps. And they sounded an awful lot like…oh no.

Y/N grimaced as she stopped in front of a broom closet. A broom closet that suspiciously erotic noises were coming from, noises that had no place in a school at such an hour — or at any hour.

“You like being a prefect, you like being a prefect,” she repeated to herself like a mantra.

Y/N turned the lantern back up, though she wasn’t sure if she was prepared to see whatever state of undress the people behind the door were in, and hesitated only a moment before knocking sharply three times against the wood. She was the one with the authority here, she had nothing to be nervous about.

The sounds of their movements stopped at once. No more ruffling fabrics, no more bumps, thumps or hushed giggles. The pair of horny miscreants whispered harshly to each other but it was too hard to understand what they were saying from the other side of the door. When they still had not come out after almost thirty seconds had passed, Y/N knocked a second time.

“I’m not just going to forget you’re in there and move on if that’s what you’re waiting for,” she said.

She heard a loud curse. Then, the door swung open, revealing none other than Sirius Black with his hair messier than usual and his lips stained with a lipgloss that probably wasn’t his.

“Not you again,” he hissed.

“Yes, it’s me again. Here to ‘ruin your life’ as usual,” Y/N said.

A girl appeared from behind Sirius, a Ravenclaw in a similar ruffled state.

“Cassandra,” Y/N greeted, her tone wavering somewhere between polite and forced.

“Hey…”

“I’ll have to take fifty points,” said Y/N.

Sirius’ mouth fell open.

“Fifty?” he asked incredulously.

Y/N turned her gaze upwards at him and narrowed her eyes into slits.

“Each.”

She took far too much joy in the look of anguish on Sirius’ face.

“I’ll just go back to the common room,” Cassandra mumbled as she slipped away.

Sirius pressed his lips together to hold back a storm of nasty words.

“You should be going back to bed now, don’t you think?” Y/N asked teasingly. “Merlin knows you need all of the beauty sleep you can get.”

“Typical,” Sirius spat. “You just can’t let anybody enjoy themselves, can you?”

“Not if they’re breaking school rules.”

“You know, maybe if you actually had a life, you wouldn’t be so concerned with what other people spend their time doing,” he said.

“And maybe if you had a functioning brain inside of that disproportionately large head of yours, you would realise that as a prefect, it’s my job to be concerned with what other people spend their time doing.”

Sirius exhaled sharply. “Oh, for the love of — you’re tighter than a —”

“Don’t finish that sentence unless you want me to take more points away,” Y/N warned.

“All I’m saying is that it wouldn’t kill you to try and be moderately pleasant for once. But who am I kidding…” Sirius trailed off, eyeing her green robes and Slytherin prefect badge with disgust.

“I can be perfectly pleasant, thank you,” she said, gripping the lantern tighter.

“That’s questionable,” he said.

“Well, I don’t care what you think of me. I know, that’s a big shock, you might need to sit down for a minute to process that, snookums.”

Sirius almost smiled — almost — and he started buttoning the rest of his shirt back up at a leisurely pace. It was this movement that made Y/N notice for the first time that it had been hanging half-open and she quickly looked away, not wanting to be caught staring. She did not want to give him the wrong idea, his ego was inflated enough as it was.

When Sirius was finished making himself decent, he leaned into Y/N’s line of vision and waved at her chirpily.

“You can’t keep doing this, you know,” she said, cheeks burning.

“Why? Because you catch me every time? But that’s the most fun part,” Sirius said with a pout.

“Because it is against the school rules that you are supposed to follow. They don’t put them in place for no reason.” She felt like she was trying to explain arithmancy to a toddler.

“Oh, but darling…” He brushed a delicate hand against her cheek as he moved a strand of hair out of her eyes, and he was so close that Y/N could feel the warmth radiating from him. Her heart thumped firmly in her chest as he leaned closer still and said in a low voice: “Rules are made to be broken.”

Y/N stared, almost shuddering from the proximity, but her face didn’t reveal any part of what she was feeling, and she did not want it to. Sirius did this sort of thing all the time with girls at Hogwarts. The flirty undertones, the teasing, the way he acted like he knew exactly what effect he had on people — because he did know very well how easily he could make people blush, squirm, or smile. This was not special.

Y/N slapped his hand away from her face like she was swatting a fly. She found that her thoughts were far more organised when Sirius wasn’t standing close enough for her to smell his cologne.

“Go to bed,” she said firmly.

“You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Actually, I can,” she said, tapping a finger to her badge.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “So what? You’ve got a fancy little badge…doesn’t mean th—”

Sirius closed his mouth remarkably fast when Y/N reached into the pocket of her robes and pulled out the largest dungbomb he had ever seen.

“Where did you get that?” Sirius asked.

“One of the perks of being a prefect is that you get to confiscate certain items.” She held it up for emphasis and Sirius crossed his arms.

“And you’re telling me you’re allowed to keep them? That’s not ‘against the rules’?” he asked, mimicking her voice.

She shrugged, rolling the dungbomb threateningly in her palm. “Maybe I should…get rid of it, then.”

“You wouldn’t. You don’t have the guts. You’re too scared to get in trouble,” he said.

Now, it was Y/N who was stepping closer to Sirius, quickly regaining the upper hand she knew she had.

“Who do you think the professors would believe? The boy who keeps getting caught breaking rules left and right? Or me: a prefect with an immaculate track record? Do you think they’ll rat me out when I regularly patrol these halls making sure students don’t disturb them?” Y/N gestured to the closest portrait. The witches in the painting shut their eyes, pretending not to have seen anything, and a painted cat scurried under one of their skirts.

Sirius opened and closed his mouth, seemingly at a loss for words.

“Oh, you’re good,” he said, almost impressed.

“I know. Now go to bed.”

Taking Y/N by surprise once more, Sirius acquiesced. He slowly began walking away, looking back over his shoulder every few paces with that same look on his face. It made her feel small under his gaze but somehow it wasn’t all that unpleasant.

Right before he turned into the next hallway, he looked back with a smirk on his face that could only mean he was about to say something to intentionally ruffle her feathers.

“By the way, that thing you said about me having a disproportionately large head? My head is just fine, thank you. Actually, it’s more than fine. My head is pretty great.”

Y/N could feel a blush crawl all the way down to her neck. Sirius triumphantly swaggered away and she bit her lip in frustration. Not only had he flustered her, but he’d gotten the last word in. Insolent bastard.

A portrait sniffed loudly and she looked up to see another witch staring at the dungbomb in her hand with her eyes narrowed.

“What?” Y/N asked, sliding it back into her pocket.

The witch raised her brows before closing her eyes and settling back into her chair, and just like that, the hallways of Hogwarts fell asleep once more.

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Regulus’ uniform was always neat. His tie was always straight, his shirts were never crinkled or untucked, and he wouldn’t be caught dead with scuffed shoes. Nobody would mistake him for anything other than a pure-blood from a well-to-do family with the way he carried and presented himself. How different he was from Sirius. It was hard to believe they were related — brothers, especially. Where Regulus was orderly and composed, Sirius was loud and passionate with a zest for life that Y/N struggled to admit she envied sometimes.

Regulus was sat across from her at a table in the library and as usual, he was hard at work on an essay with his quill scratching quickly but neatly across the parchment. Y/N had let herself become distracted from her own essay when a rumble of footsteps sounded from somewhere nearby and she saw Sirius Black zoom between a set of shelves with a stack of books balanced precariously in his arms. Madam Pince had shouted at him for his behaviour — and so she should have, he was acting like a twit — but Sirius’ sudden appearance had turned Y/N’s lips upwards into a smile that she was quick to force away.

She felt a light tap on the top of her hand and she tore her gaze away from the table that Sirius was sat at with his friends. Regulus watched her suspiciously, his attention now shifted away from his homework.

“Distracted?” he asked.

Y/N frowned and picked up her own quill once more. She tried to continue with the sentence she’d left half-finished, but it was impossible to gather her thoughts again when she could hear Sirius’ clear laugh ring out like a bell. Bloody hell, he was annoying.

Despite her silence, Regulus seemed to have gotten the answer he was looking for. He sighed, shaking his head.

“He’d be no good for you, you know,” he mumbled.

Y/N snapped her eyes back up to Regulus, prepared to deny any accusation he threw her way.

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” she said far too quickly for it to sound casual.

Regulus gently placed his quill down beside his parchment and leaned his elbows on the table.

“Then there must be something awfully interesting that you keep on staring at over there.”

Y/N gripped her quill tighter. Regulus was giving her that look. The kind of look that only a best friend can give when they know something is up, when there’s no point in trying to lie to them anymore because they’ve already sniffed out the truth for themselves.

“What, you want to talk about boys now? Shall I get my nail polish out? Perhaps you can braid my hair —”

Regulus cut her off with a snort.

“You’re hopeless,” he said, though not unkindly.

“I don’t have a crush on your brother if that’s what you’re insinuating. That’d be pathetic.”

Regulus smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Who said anything about my brother? I certainly never brought him up.”

Y/N paused, realising that she had foolishly given him the confirmation he needed. She pointed her quill threateningly at him. “I said I don’t like him. He’s the single most annoying person I’ve ever met. He drives me crazy.”

“I know he does,” Regulus said calmly. “That’s why you always rant about him after you catch him on your patrols.”

“I rant about him because he bothers me.”

“Or because you’re a little bit obsessed with him.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open at Regulus’ blunt statement. He seemed entirely unaffected, however. He even looked a little bored and that only made Y/N more frustrated. Regulus was good at poking her buttons when he wanted to; he was like the annoying little brother that she never asked for but ended up with anyway.

“I am not obsessed with him and I am insulted by the very notion.”

Regulus paid no mind to her quietly brewing anger — she often resorted to a quiet, seething rage when he provoked her on personal matters and it no longer fazed him — and he looked over at Sirius’ table.

“I suppose I can see why. Opposites attract,” he waved a hand lazily. “You, like so many others, are probably attracted to his jaunty, devil-may-care attitude and his shiny, long hair.”

“When did you become an expert?” Y/N muttered.

“You’re a dutiful student who’s never broken a rule nor swayed from the path you’re on, so somebody like my brother would offer the promise of excitement and adventure that you think you need.” Regulus faced her again, holding up a finger like a stern parent. “But you don’t need that. You’ve worked hard to build up your reputation and achieve everything that you have, and you don’t want to risk tarnishing that by chasing after…well — that.”

Regulus finished by gesturing back over at his brother. Now, Sirius was leaned back on his chair, long legs resting over the edge of the table, and his head was tilted upwards at the book he was levitating in the air. He made it look effortless.

“Uh…yes. I agree. That’s what I was saying,” Y/N said with her eyes still glued to Sirius.

Regulus pursed his lips, clearly not convinced, but he accepted her answer anyway.

“Now, if you’re quite finished, I have an essay to write,” she said, finally turning back to her essay.

A good thirty seconds of silence passed until Y/N groaned loudly and slammed her book closed.

“Well, now I just can’t focus at all. Thanks, Reg.”

“Yes, it’s completely my fault,” he said dryly.

Regulus watched with masked amusement as she quickly gathered her things into her bag.

“I’m going back to the common room,” she said.

“Good riddance. Try not to daydream about my devil of a brother while you’re at it.”

Regulus had no time to duck as Y/N accidentally knocked her bag into his face on her way out.

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Y/N stared in disbelief at Slughorn, equally as horrified as the boy who stood next to her.

“No!” she and Sirius said at the same time.

Slughorn folded his hands patiently on the desk in front of him.

“Mister Black, you are a bright young man and I know for a fact that you perform well in many other classes, but you aren’t adequately applying yourself in Potions. Miss L/N is an excellent student and she’s helped others make great improvements through tutoring. It’s a perfect match.”

Sirius made a belching sound that was just quiet enough that Professor Slughorn must have mistaken it for a cough.

“All due respect, sir, but I have many responsibilities as it is. I don’t think I’m prepared to handle…all of this.” Y/N side-eyed Sirius.

“You know you can’t handle all of this,” Sirius muttered cockily, once again going unheard (or at least unacknowledged) by Slughorn.

Professor Slughorn sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “Well, if I must, I can pair you with another student to improve your results, Mister Black. Severus Snape is highly proficient in —”

“No!” Sirius said abruptly.

Slughorn paused. “No?”

Sirius sucked in a breath and patted Y/N on the shoulder roughly. “This’ll do just fine.”

“I’m not an item at a yard sale, you know,” Y/N said, shrugging his hand off.

“Are you willing to help Mister Black, then?” Slughorn asked.

Y/N looked between Sirius and the professor. Sirius looked desperate, grey eyes pleading silently for her to agree, and she could guess why. He and Severus did not get along. The two of them together would be even worse than her and Sirius.

“Alright…fine.”

Y/N wasn’t quite sure why she decided to agree. She told herself it was because she couldn’t refuse a direct request from a professor, that she was only agreeing to be Sirius’ tutor because it was her obligation as a prefect. That wasn’t the honest reason, however. She knew it likely had something to do with the flutter in her chest that only ever happened when Sirius Black looked her way.

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“You’re doing it wrong.”

“I think I would know if I was doing it wrong.”

“Who’s the tutor here?”

“Well, I know who the pain in the ass is here and for once, it isn’t me,” Sirius said.

Y/N resisted the urge to throw her notebook at Sirius’ head, not for the first time since they had commenced their study session.

Sirius was all too aware of the annoyingly close eye Y/N was keeping on him as he measured out the next powder required for their potion. Though his back was turned to her, simply knowing that she was looking at him sent a strange tingle across the back of his neck, raising goosebumps along his skin. Not unpleasant, not unenjoyable, but entirely unwelcome. She had no right to mess with his focus like that. What was she playing at?

“That’s too much,” she pointed out.

“It’s fine, it’s only a tiny bit over,” he said.

“No, it’s not fine! Not unless you want that potion to melt the skin off your face, that is.”

Sirius squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. She could be even more dramatic than he was — something he didn’t know was possible.

“Alright, now you’re really just nitpicking, aren’t you?”

“Potions is a very precise branch of magic. All of the measurements have to be exact. Small things make a difference,” Y/N said, frustrated that she’d had to repeat this simple fact so many times already.

She shooed him with her hands and took over with measuring the powder, then gestured for Sirius to pay attention as she added it to the bubbling liquid inside the cauldron.

“Where did you learn all this stuff anyway? You seem comfortable with it,” Sirius asked after several quiet minutes had crawled by.

Y/N was surprised by the question, her movements slowing. She couldn’t recall a time when Sirius had asked her a real question about herself, nor could she remember ever asking him about his own life. Despite the fact that they always managed to cross paths one way or another, they’d never had a proper conversation — at least not one that didn’t consist of petty back-and-forth. The only reason she knew anything at all about his life (which was still only very little) was because she had picked up the occasional piece of information dropped by Regulus throughout the years. Regulus’ mentions of his brother had grown few and far between, though.

“My mother’s very skilled at Potions. Even before I received my Hogwarts letter, I tried to learn everything I could from her so I would be ready,” she explained. She expected a snide remark from Sirius but it never came. He simply nodded, eyes still trained on the cauldron, and the edges of his lips curled upwards so subtly that Y/N almost missed it.

“Only you would start taking classes before school even started,” Sirius said, voice laced with amusement. His words didn’t carry the same scathing tone they so often had in the past. If Y/N didn’t know better, she might even say he spoke fondly.

Unsure how to react to a less abrasive Sirius than she was used to, she just gave a hesitant smile. “Well…I don’t like to be caught unprepared,” she said.

“I can tell,” Sirius chuckled.

Y/N finished stirring the potion and turned her questioning gaze to him. “What does that mean?”

Sirius shrugged and a smug sort of look settled over his features. “Nothing, you’re just a bit of a square is all,” he said.

Y/N’s immediate response was to scoff. It was an insult she was all too familiar with. Square. Boring. Dull. Unadventurous.

“One day, Sirius Black, you and your friends will all be working for me.”

Sirius laughed at that, leaning back on his chair. “I guess that’s plausible,” he said.

“Perhaps not that Lupin one, though,” Y/N said thoughtfully. “There may be hope for him yet.”

“That one will outlive us all,” Sirius said, nodding his head in agreement. “But he’s not as innocent as he’d have you believe, Miss Prefect.”

Even when Y/N glanced at him curiously, Sirius did not say anything more, merely tapping the tip of his nose. Instead of pressing the topic, Y/N gave the last set of instructions for the potion, watching closely as Sirius added the final ingredients. When all was done, she collected a single vial of the potion to give to Professor Slughorn for feedback.

“There. No singed eyebrows or melted flesh today.” She dusted her hands on her skirt.

Sirius saw that she started to pack away her things. “That’s it?”

“That’s it. Essence of Insanity,” she said. Sirius smirked and began to lean toward the cauldron in what Y/N could only describe as mischievous curiosity.

“Nope,” she said quickly. She pointed her wand at the cauldron and vanished the potion before he could collect a vial’s worth or more of the stuff. Sirius slumped back onto his stool with a defeated frown. Then, he blew a short raspberry at her.

“How very mature of you,” Y/N said, rolling her eyes.

“Yes, well, that’s not counted amongst my many known strengths.”

“At least you’re self-aware.”

Sirius stretched his arms above his head as if he’d been slaving away all day. With his robe long tossed aside and his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, Y/N was given a view of his rather lovely forearms. As soon as she’d caught herself looking too long, she felt nothing but frustration at both herself and at Sirius. He was probably doing it on purpose.

When the equipment was packed away, Y/N turned to Sirius. “Same time next week?” she asked. Sirius nodded.

Just like the past several times they had met up to work, the energy between them changed completely once they left the empty classroom behind. The relative peace they had enjoyed during their sessions evaporated as soon as they were in the proximity of other students. As they parted ways once more without so much as a goodbye, both were equally as surprised to find that their prickly attitudes towards each other didn’t feel as satisfying nor as warranted as they used to.

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Sirius sat silently under the shade of the tree, barely paying attention to the conversation James, Remus, and Peter were all having about Quidditch. His focus was elsewhere.

Y/N was sat some distance away from them beneath another tree with a few Ravenclaws and Slytherins, including his brother. They seemed awfully close, Y/N and Regulus. It shouldn’t have been surprising to Sirius, and it definitely shouldn’t have made him as annoyed as it did.

He jumped as a twig was thrown at him.

“Stop being creepy, Padfoot,” said James.

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Tell that to your eyes,” Peter snickered.

Sirius glared at Peter and turned his body to face his friends once more, not quite trusting himself to stop his gaze from wandering again.

“You were looking at Y/N again, right?” James asked. The curiosity in his voice was undermined by his obvious disapproval.

“I was not!” Sirius said, surprising both himself and James with his volume.

James pursed his lips. “Alright, calm down. I was just asking.”

Sirius sighed and leaned back against the rough bark of the tree. “So what if I was, anyway?” Sirius asked quietly.

Weeks had gone by of their study sessions, and it grew harder and harder for Sirius to keep disliking her as much as he thought he had before. He found himself buzzing with anticipation for their weekly meetings, eagerly awaiting whatever conversations they might have weaved through all the Potions talk. He looked forward to their banter, which had become decidedly less argumentative and was now more tongue in cheek than anything. She almost always had a quick response for anything he said, and her complete unwillingness to put up with any of his bullshit was…riveting.

James began to list things off on his fingers. “She’s a Slytherin, she’s a prefect, she’s friends with Regulus and Merlin knows who else, she’s always ratting us out to the professors.”

Sirius could only replace James’ statements with thoughts of his own — ones he refused to say out loud to his friends. She’s ambitious. She’s dedicated. She knows who she is and doesn’t apologise for it.

“She’s alright, actually,” Remus spoke up.

“What?” James asked.

“How do you know her?” Sirius asked.

“I’ve talked to her a few times. Only ever about prefect stuff, really, but she’s nice.”

“I’d find her a lot nicer if she didn’t keep taking points from Gryffindor,” James muttered.

“She’s just doing her job,” Sirius said defensively, surprising even himself.

James looked at Sirius, over his shoulder at Y/N, then back to Sirius, eyes widening. “You like her.”

Sirius frowned. “I do not.”

“I thought you were just ogling because she’s pretty, but you actually like her!” James said, his tone excited or horrified or some strange combination of both.

Peter sat up straighter, even more interested in the conversation now. Sirius Black crushing on a Slytherin prefect — how scandalous.

Sirius felt his face turn hot. He wasn’t quite embarrassed, no. It was frustration. “Why does it matter?” he asked, shoulders tensing.

“Mate, come on. It’ll never happen. It’s practically a crime against nature,” James said, making Remus roll his eyes.

Sirius turned back to see Y/N walking away. With Regulus. He shifted uncomfortably, watching as their forms grew smaller the further they walked. Y/N laughed at something Regulus had said — a bright sort of laugh that he had never heard from her before — and it made his stomach twist and his chest contract. He wanted to run over there and wedge himself between the two of them just so they’d stop walking so close together.

Sirius thought he would never have another reason to be jealous of Regulus, and yet here he was. He wanted to be the one walking next to her without caring what anyone else thought. He wanted to be the one to make her laugh like that. He wanted to be more than just some Gryffindor she was forced to tutor, because he now knew with certainty that she was more than just a bothersome prefect to him.

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“Wingardium Leviosa.”

Sirius flicked his wrist and at once, the bucket was lifted into the air. He guided it further up until James gave him a thumbs up. Perfect: nobody would see it coming. They scurried behind the wall so they could peek into the corridor without being seen by their target. Then, they waited. And waited. And waited.

James, who was watching the map, nodded at Sirius. “They’re coming ‘round the corner in a few seconds, get ready.” He pressed his wand against the paper and whispered: “Mischief managed.”

Sirius grinned and raised his wand slightly, waiting until he saw movement. When he saw Y/N turn the corner at the far end of the corridor, the smile fell from his face.

“What the fuck, Prongs?” he whispered harshly, glancing back at his friend. James looked confused as Sirius pocketed his wand.

They peered back into the corridor to see Y/N getting closer. “Mate, we’re gonna miss our chance, it’s now or never,” James said.

He held out his own wand and raised it towards the bucket but before he could utter a single syllable, Sirius shoved his arm roughly and knocked the wand right out of his grasp.

“Padfoot, what are you doi—”

“Shh!”

There was no point trying to hide anymore. Y/N slowed to a stop and looked down to find them both crouched on the ground with guilty looks on their faces and a mess of blank parchment around them.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen. Having a good time down there on the floor?” she said, not hiding the confusion (and slight judgement) in her voice.

Sirius patted the cold stone floor beneath him. “Yep.”

James just narrowed his eyes and kept glancing between the two of them.

“Alright…as you were,” Y/N said before walking away from the odd scene she had happened upon.

When she was out of sight and out of earshot, James gathered the map in his hands and scrambled to stand.

“You’ve got it bad, mate. And that’s bad!” he huffed.

“That’s ridiculous. I just don’t think she deserves to have a bucket of slug slime dumped over her head, alright?”

“The slime was your idea!”

“You didn’t tell me it was Y/N who was coming!”

“Why does that matter?”

Ignoring the question, Sirius dusted himself off and snatched the map from James’ hands.

“I’ve got stuff to do. I’ll see you later,” he said. He didn’t stick around to answer James’ onslaught of questions.

After checking that nobody was around, Sirius opened up the map and waited for the enchanted ink to bleed onto the page. His eyes searched for a certain set of footprints and shortly after, he was following their trail to the library. Merlin, she’d made a nerd out of him.

Sirius casually waltzed into the library, waving at a suspicious Madam Pince. He didn’t have to think too hard to figure out where Y/N would be sitting. Just as he expected he would, he found her in a quiet nook between two bookshelves with class notes sprawled out in front of her.

“Hey,” he greeted. She lifted her head and smiled for a second before hastily returning to a neutral expression.

“Hi.”

“So, Slughorn said that in my essay, I didn’t really show a thorough understanding of the process of our last potion. Think you could walk me through it again?”

“I thought you did well.” Y/N frowned.

Sirius shrugged, knowing full well he was lying his arse off. “Guess he’s just being extra hard on me so I get better.”

“Alright…sure. I don’t have any homework to do, I’m just revising, so it’s good timing.”

Sirius grinned and pulled a chair up next to her. He hardly paid attention to a word she said about Potions.

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The cheers of the students were already deafening and the match had not even started yet. It was the first game of the season, Gryffindor versus Slytherin — the strongest house rivalry of them all. So, understandably, everybody was losing their mind.

By the time most people had settled into the stands, Y/N was forced to take the first vacant spot she could see, and it so happened to be right at the split between Gryffindor and Slytherin team supporters — right at the heart of the action. The sky had a grey cast to it and the clouds looked like they might spill over at any moment. She hoped any rain they got wouldn’t be heavy enough to mess up the match.

Y/N approached the barrier to look down at the field. The players hadn’t come out yet but they would be soon. Something brushed up against her arm and she turned to see Sirius, wearing jeans and a leather jacket with his Gryffindor scarf draped over his shoulders. He inhaled deeply and nodded.

“It’s a good day to lose, L/N.”

Y/N snorted. “So you’re alright with your team losing, are you?”

Sirius shook his head. “No, no, that’s not what I meant — your team, not mine, your team is going to lose. Epically. By a very large margin.”

“You shouldn’t get so far ahead of yourself. It’ll only be more embarrassing for you when we win.”

Sirius grinned, gripping the bannister and leaning over to check again if there was any movement. “The Slytherin team can eat old wizard ba—”

The swelling roars of the crowd drowned out Sirius’ next words. The teams came out onto the field at last, the Gryffindors in their stunning scarlet robes and the Slytherins in their rich green ones. Y/N’s eyes quickly searched for Regulus and she found him walking alongside his teammates with his head held high. He looked unruffled by the cheering of the crowds, the dirty looks from the other team, and the darkening skies above.

On the other side of the field, Y/N observed the Gryffindor team. Already she could see James Potter striding confidently to the centre of the field with his teammates, waving at the students in the stands as he went. Saint Potter. She prayed to any gods that might exist that Regulus would annihilate him.

The match went on just like every other match. Chasers went after the Quaffle, hitting it at the hoops; Keepers tried their best to block it; Beaters sent the Bludgers flying in different directions. Regulus and James hovered high above it all, both squinting through the fresh drizzle for the Golden Snitch.

A Slytherin Beater zoomed through the air and swung her bat, sending a Bludger hurtling towards the Gryffindor Chaser who had just managed to get hold of the Quaffle. The Chaser dodged the Bludger just in time but lost his balance, and the Quaffle slipped from his hands. A nearby Slytherin Chaser had been waiting to strike, and he zipped right under the Gryffindor and snatched up the Quaffle before he realised what was happening. It was a straight shot to the hoops and the Slytherin Chaser sent the Quaffle soaring past the Keeper and through the centre ring.

Y/N clapped her hands excitedly. The Slytherin team was far more clever and skilful now that a few members had been replaced. A mishmash of boos and cheers filled Y/N’s ears and she slowly turned her gaze to Sirius to give him a knowing look, to which he just scoffed.

“Lucky shot,” he muttered.

The light trickles of rain started getting heavier, and Y/N could feel the cool raindrops hit her scalp, dampening her hair. A handful of students had umbrellas on them but most people had not anticipated rainfall. She jumped when she felt a sudden warmth surrounding her along with the crisp scent of leather, something woody, and something else that she had come to recognise as just Sirius. She looked up to see that Sirius had taken off his jacket and draped it over her head and shoulders.

“What are you —”

“Shhh, stop whining, I’m being chivalrous. It’s what sets me apart, you know,” he said with a wink.

Y/N’s face warmed despite the chill in the air and she turned back to face the field again, muttering something.

“What was that?” Sirius asked, even though he’d heard her well enough the first time.

“I said thank you…” she mumbled.

“Sorry, dove, still not getting it.”

“Thank you!” she shouted to be heard over the crowd.

“You are so very welcome,” he said, leaning forward on the railing. Y/N adjusted the jacket so that she could pull it around herself, and her heart fluttered when she noticed Sirius smile at that before looking away again.

The game went on but unfortunately for Y/N and the rest of Slytherin, the Gryffindors had taken the lead. The early success of the Slytherins must have lit a fire underneath the Gryffindors because they started playing even harder, even more daringly, making risky passes and throws that kept on paying off. It gave Sirius an annoying amount of confidence back.

“Looks like they’ve run out of that luck, Y/N,” he said cockily. “Might as well admit defeat now.”

He closed his eyes and held his arms out like he was anticipating and calmly accepting a barrage of curses from her. With his eyes closed, Y/N didn’t bother to stop herself from smiling in amusement. But then she saw movement from almost directly above, and she looked up to see Regulus rush past overhead. He had his gaze locked onto something, steely and unwavering. It was damn near impossible to see, especially in the worsening weather, but there was a flash of something shiny and gold. Regulus was after the Snitch.

“Open your eyes, dingus,” Y/N said, tapping Sirius on the arm. “I want to see the joy leave your eyes when this happens.”

Sirius opened his eyes and looked confused for a moment before he realised what was happening. Regulus was catching up to the Snitch. James had of course taken notice and had already started trying to beat Regulus to it, but he had been too far away to get there quickly enough.

Regulus was getting closer. Y/N clenched her teeth, curled her toes, squeezed her fists; she didn’t even realise that she was practically hugging Sirius’ arm by now. Sirius looked away from the match for a moment to glance down at the Slytherin clinging to his arm like a little green barnacle. He chose not to say anything about it, though he felt considerably warmer now than he had a few minutes ago.

The shouts grew louder as Regulus got closer. James was behind him, closer now but still not close enough. Regulus held out his arm, leaning, reaching, trying to inch just a little bit further and he was so close now that just a little nudge would push the Snitch into his hand.

“Come on, Reg, you little bastard, you can do it! Motherfucker —!” Y/N called out, knowing that there was no possible way Regulus could hear her but needing to yell something anyway.

“Your idea of encouragement is giving off a confusing energy!” Sirius said.

Not a second later, Regulus gave one final push forward and swiped his hand through the air before his broom came to a stop. When he raised his hand, a small set of golden wings fluttered out.

The Slytherins erupted into passionate cheers of joy and the win was announced. Regulus catching the Snitch had given them the boost they needed to surpass Gryffindor by a mere twenty points. Y/N cheered along with her housemates and clapped for Regulus’ victory, overcome with the rush that could only be felt at a Hogwarts Quidditch match. She turned to Sirius to take delight in the look of defeat on his face but what she found instead twisted her insides just a bit. Sirius’ eyes were clearly trained on his brother, who was now being embraced by his teammates and excitedly jostled around. Sirius had the smallest of smiles on his face, so subtle that most people wouldn’t notice it. He looked somewhat proud, perhaps, but it was a pride that Sirius clearly had a hard time expressing. Mostly, he looked sad. Mournful.

The students eventually began to file out of the stands, some of them heading down to the field to congratulate the players and others going back to the castle. Y/N and Sirius lingered towards the back.

“Well, you guys won. Fair and square,” Sirius said, sounding like the words physically pained him.

“It was a game well-played on both sides,” Y/N offered. “You might’ve done better if your Seeker hadn’t been trying to show off so much, though.”

Sirius barked out a laugh, shaking his head. He couldn’t argue with that even though James was his best friend.

“In his defence, he’s trying to woo someone and looking cool while flying a broom is apparently one of the approved methods.”

“I get the feeling that Evans wouldn’t be too impressed by that,” Y/N said, laughing.

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “You know Lily?”

“Of course I do, we’re both prefects, but we’re also friendly. Yeah, she’s told me heaps about you lot.” Lily had indeed spoken here and there about Sirius and his friends, but never at great length. Y/N liked winding Sirius up, though.

“Huh? What does she tell you about me?” Sirius asked.

“Mostly okay things,” Y/N said vaguely.

“Mostly? Okay? What does that mean?” Sirius asked.

“It means that most of the things she’s said about you are okay.”

“I need specifics.”

“I’ve got to go congratulate the team,” Y/N said. She began to (somewhat reluctantly) shed Sirius’ jacket. “See you later. Thanks again,” she said, handing Sirius his jacket and quickly darting towards the stairs.

“What does she tell you?” Sirius called out.

“Bye!” Y/N waved as she disappeared from sight.

Sirius sighed and put his jacket back on. A smile grew on his face. “What an asshole,” he mused fondly.

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Y/N’s hand began to ache as she finished another page of notes for Charms. It was a tedious process but she’d found that she never quite remembered things well enough unless she wrote them out.

Some of the students in the Great Hall talked amongst themselves — which they were free to do given that it was a weekend — but she had been able to block the noise out and finally, she had found her place of focus. Nothing could distract her now.

“Y/N,” Regulus said, poking her roughly on the arm.

“What?” She jolted, nearly scratching a dark line of ink across the page. Her steely glare did nothing to deter Regulus and he pointed at the space of the table in front of her where a piece of folded parchment sat.

“What’s that?” she asked. Regulus shrugged.

“It just landed in front of you a moment ago. Can’t see who it might’ve come from, though.”

“Probably some idiot…” she trailed off, unfolding the paper.

She wasn’t sure what she expected but it certainly wasn’t this. On the paper was a small drawing enchanted to move. It was her favourite kind of flower, closing up and then blossoming open again on a loop.

Y/N’s heart fluttered and she pulled the note closer to herself so that nobody else could peek over at it. It was the first time she had ever received something of this nature — something simple, thoughtful, and sweet. She knew she wasn’t the most sought-after girl in Hogwarts; her house and role as prefect were enough to spook off potential admirers from the other houses and, with the exception of Regulus, she wasn’t that close with anyone else in her own house. So, she quickly grew suspicious and eager to find out who this note was from and what the intent behind it was.

Her first thought was Regulus. He was her best friend — he would know what her favourite flower was.

“Is this from you?” she asked.

Regulus looked up from his own notes and glanced at the parchment in her hand. “No. What is it, anyway?”

Y/N hesitated before handing it to him. He looked it over, then flipped the paper to the other side and raised his eyebrows.

“What?”

“Someone’s got a secret admirer,” he said, passing it back.

The message was short and simple but it made Y/N’s cheeks burn with an intensity she had never felt before. ‘You look pretty today,’ with a little smiley face at the end. Her? A secret admirer?

“Who’s it from?” Regulus asked.

“I don’t know, why do you think I asked you?”

Regulus shrugged. “Surely you must have some idea of who it might be.”

“Really, I don’t.” She looked along the Slytherin table, trying to find if anybody was watching or looking at all suspicious. Nobody.

With a giddy smile, she tucked the note carefully into her journal for safekeeping, certain that she would be taking it out and looking at it many more times in the coming days. What did it mean? Was it just a friendly note or was there somebody in the school who was actually interested in her?

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The notes kept coming and they were different every time. One time there was a quote pulled from her favourite book, another time a lyric from a song she liked. Several of the notes had hilariously bad pick-up lines that never failed to get a smile out of her. ‘Do you play Quidditch? Because you sure are a Keeper.’ Other times, it was a sweet little observation or compliment. Saying her hair looked nice, that she had a sweet smile. And then there were the notes with poorly-drawn but still endearing cartoons. She had kept them all, of course, but she hadn’t gotten any closer to figuring out who was sending them. She could do little more than enjoy the rush of butterflies she felt every time she found a new note. They made her feel noticed and, for once in her life, completely unprepared. It was exciting.

Regulus had noticed her sunnier-than-usual disposition. It was a good thing, sure, but it also meant she was more distracted than she usually would be. Unlike Y/N, his suspicions had grown significantly and he was certain that it was his brother sending them. From what he could gather, their study sessions had become less troublesome every time. He could tell because Y/N had stopped complaining about them and almost seemed to look forward to them, even though she had not yet admitted that. Whenever a new note did come, she was too preoccupied with opening and reading it to notice that Sirius was always a safe distance away, trying to pretend he wasn’t watching. Regulus had not shared this information with his friend, nor did he intend to. Not until he’d spoken to Sirius first.

He ignored the looks he got from Sirius’ friends when he approached his brother in the halls.

“I need to talk to you,” he said confidently, refusing to let himself be intimidated by the pack of lions.

Sirius looked down at his brother, taken aback.

“Some time today would be nice,” Regulus added after a long silence passed.

Sirius rolled his eyes and nodded, parting from his equally-confused friends.

“What’s this about, then? One of our parents finally kick the bucket?” Sirius asked.

Regulus pressed his lips together and exhaled through his nose, staring up at Sirius with no humour in his eyes. “No. This isn’t about our parents. It’s about Y/N.”

Sirius blinked. “Oh.”

“Yes. Oh. What are you doing?”

“What?”

“What are you doing?” Regulus repeated.

“That’s a very broad question, you’ll have to be more specific.”

“I know it’s you who’s been sending those notes to her,” Regulus said bluntly.

Sirius crossed his arms over his chest. “You can’t prove that.”

“I’m not an idiot, I know it’s you. I just want to know why.”

“Why? Because I want to, is that a good enough answer for you?”

“I know what you’re like and I especially know what you think of my house. Despite what you may think, Y/N’s a good person and she’s just as vulnerable as anyone else,” Regulus blurted. Even a few minutes in his brother’s presence again was enough to make his composure start to fade away.

“What are you insinuating here?” Sirius asked, his irritation steadily growing.

“I’m not insinuating, I’m saying it outright. I don’t know what your endgame is but I know it’s not good. I just never thought you’d be so cruel as to get her hopes up like that.”

Sirius nearly exploded on the spot and just barely managed to stop himself from shoving his brother into the wall. “You think I’m just stringing her along?”

“It’s what you do — it’s what you’ve always done. You’re interested in the shiny new thing for a while, then you drop it as soon as something more exciting comes along. Well, guess what? Not all of us can afford to play around with people like that. Not all of us will have an unlimited number of people ready to jump at the chance to be our friend,” Regulus said, clenching his fist around the strap of his bag.

Sirius looked as if he’d been slapped in the face. “What, are you jealous or something? You’re worried I’m trying to steal your little friend?”

Regulus said nothing. Sirius’ face fell.

“I may be an asshole, but I’m not that cruel,” Sirius said quietly, his anger reducing as his shoulders sagged.

Regulus shifted uncomfortably, unable to meet Sirius’ eyes any longer. “She’s the only good friend I’ve got, Sirius.”

Sirius watched his little brother curiously, allowing the anger and hurt he’d felt at Regulus’ accusations to roll off of him. Regulus had not dared to speak with him in a long time but here he was, asking him not to break his friend’s heart. He couldn’t be mad at him for that.

“I…I understand,” Sirius mumbled awkwardly.

Regulus looked back up with his eyes narrowed.

“I’m not being an ass here, you know,” Sirius added quickly. “I really do like her.”

Regulus scoffed. “She’s a Slytherin prefect.”

“I know. She drives me crazy.”

Regulus’ face changed when he said that; almost the barest hint of a smile, though Sirius could not understand it.

“You aren’t just saying that?” he asked.

Sirius was quick to shake his head. “No. I’ll admit she used to bug the shit out of me, but she’s grown on me considerably these past few months. I wouldn’t intentionally lead her on if I didn’t like her.”

Regulus nodded slowly.

“And to think: this might be the one thing you’ve done that our parents would approve of.”

“Don’t ruin it, Reg.”

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Regulus sat next to Y/N on the sofa in the common room. “It’s Sirius.”

She looked up at him. “What?”

“The notes you’ve been getting. They’re from my brother.”

Y/N’s heart jumpstarted in her chest. There was no way that could be true…right?

“How do you know?” she asked, not quite sure if she even believed it yet.

“I suspected as much, so I asked him about it and he admitted it,” Regulus said, leaving no room for further confusion.

The notes were from Sirius. All those nice things she’d had said about her were thought up by Sirius Black. He thought she was pretty, that she had a nice smile and nice hair and a sweet laugh. He knew what her favourite flower and book was. How did he know that?

Regulus made no comment on the look of utter disbelief on her face.

“I thought you ought to know…” he said uncertainly. “I don’t know if and when he was planning on coming clean. Didn’t want you to keep torturing yourself over trying to figure out who they were from.”

Y/N watched as Regulus avoided her eyes and stared off into the common room. “What’s wrong?”

Regulus waved her off.

“Have I done something to upset you?” Y/N asked. She didn’t like when Regulus got all quiet and distant.

“No,” he said quickly. “You haven’t done anything. I…”

“Regulus,” she urged.

“It’s stupid.”

“I’m sure it’s not if it’s upsetting you.”

Regulus tugged at his tie uncomfortably. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

When Y/N just stared at him in silence, needing more to go on, he sighed and continued.

“Look, he said he really likes you —”

“He does?”

“— and I don’t think I doubt him on that, but he’s…well, you know him well enough by now to know what he’s like. He’s not the most committed type.”

In some ways she knew it was true. Sirius was easily distracted, easily tempted, he struggled to control his impulses just like so many other teenagers at Hogwarts. But in the time they’d spent studying Potions together, Sirius had actually developed a sense of duty regarding his studies. He certainly didn’t flaunt it, maybe because it wasn’t ‘cool’ enough to fit with his image, but Y/N had noticed. Sirius Black was many things, but he wasn’t stupid. She knew that wasn’t what Regulus was talking about, however.

“I can’t stop you from…doing…whatever it is that you want to, whether that be, uh, dating, or —”

Y/N just nodded at Regulus, silently assuring him that she understood and he didn’t have to detail all of the possibilities.

“All I can say, really, is that if you decide to…date him, don’t let him mess it up. Don’t put up with anything less than complete loyalty.”

Regulus was clearly uncomfortable talking about such a subject so candidly. Y/N’s heart swelled with the knowledge that he cared that much.

“Thank you,” she said, “for looking out for me, and for worrying about me.”

Regulus gave her a bittersweet smile. “Thank you for the same. You’re the only person who does.”

Y/N looped her arm through Regulus’ and exhaled. “I don’t know what will happen with Sirius. I can’t believe these words are coming out of my mouth right now, but I’ve actually started to enjoy his company.”

Regulus nodded stiffly and Y/N was quick to wrap up the subject.

“Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that no matter what happens with Sirius — whether it’s a success or an astounding failure — you’ll still be my best friend. Nothing and no one else can touch that.”

Regulus smiled and looked away to hide it. When he did not respond, Y/N squeezed his arm.

“I need to hear you say it, too, Reg. We’ll always be friends, right?”

Regulus patted her hand. “Always.”

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Sirius found Y/N reading alone in the courtyard on a bench. He waved a hand over the pages of her book to get her attention and Y/N looked up at him.

“What do you want?” she snapped, only to wince at her tone. “Sorry. Old habits die hard.”

Sirius only grinned and handed her a small piece of folded parchment before turning around and walking away. Y/N stared at it, feeling as if it was burning her fingertips. Well, that was it. The elephant in the room — the one that Y/N had not even realised Sirius knew about much less was responsible for — was finally brought right out into the open air of the courtyard. No more wondering who the notes were from, and no more pretending that she and Sirius didn’t like each other as much as they had grown to lately.

She opened the note and read the message scrawled onto it.

‘It’s about time you do something spontaneous. Meet me at the Astronomy Tower after curfew.’

Y/N was able to sneak out of the Slytherin common room fairly easily that night. She was not on patrol tonight, so she wouldn’t be expected anywhere; it also meant that she knew who was on patrol and where they would be, making it simpler to sneak around the castle.

There was something strangely exhilarating about it. She was doing something she wasn’t supposed to be doing and it was…fun? She had to be mindful to be even quieter than usual, careful not to wake the portraits or stumble into an on-duty prefect. Her fellow Slytherins would probably let her off the hook if they found her creeping about given her otherwise spotless history and, admittedly, her house’s history of showing favouritism, but if she came across a prefect from another house — oh boy. She didn’t want to think about it.

There was a faint glow up ahead and she rushed to hide behind a pillar, heart thumping in her chest. When she risked a quick peek, she saw that it was only the ghost of Sir Nicholas floating through the corridor. She waited with bated breath for him to pass into the next hallway before continuing her journey. She’d never felt this kind of rush before. It was something else.

When she reached the Astronomy Tower, she quickly but quietly climbed the stairs and once she got to the top, she saw Sirius standing there, tucking away a sheet of parchment into his jacket.

“So, you’re finally going to kill me?” Y/N joked.

Sirius breathed a laugh and waved her over to the edge of the tower where he sat on the floor, letting his legs dangle over the edge underneath the railing. Y/N followed suit, sat next to him and peered over the edge of the tower to look down at the ground.

“I’ve always liked it up here,” she said. It was easier to talk about nothing than directly ask him why he wanted to meet her here.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I love my common room but it’s below ground level, it starts to get a bit drab after a while.”

“Oh, right, you lot are surrounded by the Black Lake down there, aren’t you?”

“Yep. A Grindylow swam past my window in first year, scared the shit out of me —”

Sirius laughed.

“— but it grows on you. It’s calming in a way, really, very quiet. Still, it’s nice to come up here and be high up for a change.” Y/N moved her gaze from the ground far below to the starry night sky above before quickly looking over at Sirius. “Don’t you think we’ll be caught here? I thought that —”

“Nah. Remus is patrolling this area tonight but I told him to buzz off.”

Y/N sighed and shook her head, smiling.

“How was it?” Sirius asked, and Y/N knew he was referring to her perilous journey from the common room to the Astronomy Tower.

“I almost got too close to Sir Nicholas at one point, and I’m pretty sure I heard another prefect’s footsteps somewhere nearby. It was wild.”

Sirius chuckled. “If that’s your idea of ‘wild’, I wonder what you’d think of sneaking into the forest.”

Y/N whipped her head in his direction. “You do that?” she asked, forgetting for a moment to lower her volume.

Sirius paused. “No?”

“Unbelievable.”

“But, hey, you had fun, right? I saw that little smile on your face when you rushed up the stairs, you can’t bury the truth.”

Y/N hid her grin. “It was alright, I suppose.”

“You had a grand old time, didn’t you?” Sirius asked.

Y/N’s silence was telling.

Sirius leaned back on his palms. “I knew it.”

“Knew what?”

“That you had a rebellious streak. It’s always the strict ones, y’know. Once you loosen ‘em up and get that ball rolling, it’s all downhill from there.”

“Sirius, no —”

“Y/N, yes —”

“It was a one-time thing. I’ve had one taste of unlawfulness and I’m fully satiated.”

Sirius lolled his head to the side to look at her knowingly. “Sure. I bet you’ll never again do anything improper or disreputable in your life.”

“Well, trust me — if I do, nobody will ever find out about it.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow before laughing. “Slytherins,” he said, and for the first time, it didn’t sound hateful. “Sneaky shits, the lot of you.”

“Gryffindors,” Y/N bit back. “Royal shits, the lot of you.”

Sirius’ eyes widened and his face fell as he looked at something behind you.

“Professor!” he cried, startled.

Y/N gasped and whipped around, clutching her chest, only to find the otherwise empty tower. As Sirius started to laugh, she turned back to him and whacked his arm.

“That’s not funny! You nearly gave me a fucking heart attack!”

Sirius doubled over, hardly able to control his laughter. He managed to catch his breath for a moment and he imitated Y/N’s reaction, clutching at imaginary pearls and gasping.

“I didn’t look like that…”

Sirius wiped a fake tear from his eye. “All utterly hilarious jokes aside, thanks for meeting me up here. I wasn’t even sure if you would come, to be honest.”

“Why did you want to meet here, anyway?” She felt her arms tingle with nerves as she waited for his answer.

“Well, you seem to come up here a lot. I figured you liked it up here.“

“How did — never mind. You know that’s not what I was asking.”

It was Sirius’ turn to look sheepish, if that was even possible. “Just wanted to spend a bit of time with you. Where we don’t have to think about potions or worry about anyone else seeing us.”

“So, you’re ashamed of being my friend?”

“No! That’s not what I —” Sirius stopped when he saw the amused glint in Y/N’s eye. She was only messing about. Wait…friend? “Did you just call me your friend?” Sirius asked.

Y/N fumbled for her answer. “I mean, not friend — maybe frenemy is more apt.” She could feel herself blush when Sirius swung an arm around her shoulder and jostled her slightly.

“I’m alright with that description,” he said, looking out at the stars. “BFFs: best frenemies forever.”

“I’ve already told you before not to get ahead of yourself,” Y/N said, even though she found herself leaning into his side, which didn’t go unnoticed.

“Yeah, well, it’s sort of my thing,” he said, voice growing quieter.

“How did you know what my favourite flower is? And book? And what songs I like?” Y/N asked suddenly. Her curiosity had been eating away at her ever since the first note.

“You’re not as much of an enigma as I first presumed.”

Y/N looked up at him questioningly and he shrugged.

“You, uh…sometimes in our tutoring sessions, you hum songs to yourself when you’re concentrating,” he said.

Y/N’s cheeks got impossibly warmer. “Oh. That’s embarrassing.”

Sirius shook his head. “I think it’s pretty cute, actually. First time you did it, it instantly made you about fifty percent less scary. So, not scary at all anymore.”

“You thought I was fifty percent scary?”

“Don’t sound too proud of yourself, lovie. Also, I could take a wild guess at your favourite flower because you always stop to look at them whenever you see them. And I’ve seen how worn-out the binding of your favourite book is.”

Y/N could feel her heart doubling in size in her chest. “You noticed all that about me?”

Sirius nodded. “Not always consciously. I just…well, there was a while there, when we were still being dicks to each other. I’d started to get the feeling that I didn’t want us to be like that anymore, but I didn’t exactly know what to do about it. So, I just sent you that little note and I know it probably wasn’t all that impressive, it was only a small gesture, but you looked so happy that I kept wanting to do it. Even if you didn’t know it was me.”

Y/N was thankful that it was dark out and that her face was out of Sirius’ view, because she had a stupidly large smile and felt as if she might begin to cry. It was ridiculous and she had no idea what to say and she hated it and loved it at the same time.

“You never listen to me, do you?” she sniffled. “I told you that small things make a difference. You have no idea what your notes meant to me.”

Sirius panicked when he heard the sniffle and quickly brought his other arm around Y/N to hold her to him. “Shit, I didn’t wanna make you cry —”

Y/N sniffled louder, feeling tears balance precariously on her eyelids as her face was pressed against Sirius’ shoulder. “I’m not crying because I’m sad, you doink, I’m just emotional because you’re being really nice to me! And now you’re probably going to think I’m a mess.”

“Pssh, not at all. But if you were a mess, you’d be a very hot one.”

She managed a short laugh, only for it to grow when she saw Sirius grab a fistful of his shirt and hold it out in offering for her to use as a tissue. She declined.

“So…I take it you liked my notes, then?”

Y/N just nodded as she dabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her own jumper. “I put them all in my journal so I wouldn’t lose them.”

“You kept them?” Sirius sounded surprised.

“Of course I did. What kind of heartless maniac would throw something like that away?”

“I just didn’t take you for the sentimental type, is all. You’re full of pleasant surprises, aren’t you?”

“I’m not the only one,” Y/N said, turning to finally look up at him.

Sirius smiled at her, eyes swimming with something soft and kind and just a touch remorseful. “I’m sorry I was…you know. Before. I didn’t try to know you before I made up my mind about you. I’m sorry.”

It sounded to Y/N’s ears like Sirius didn’t say those words often, which only made them that much heavier. “I’m sorry, too. I guess we did a pretty poor job of figuring each other out,” she said. She thought back to all the nasty things she’d ever thought or said about the boy in front of her, and all the nasty things he’d said back. What was the point of any of it?

“It all seems so stupid now. Childish, the way we acted,” Sirius said.

Y/N nodded pensively. “I suppose that’s just a part of growing up, isn’t it? Doing stupid things and only realising how stupid they are after you’ve already done them.”

“Maybe that’s the only way to figure out what works, sometimes,” Sirius said as he lifted a hand to gently hold the back of her neck. “You do a lot of stupid things until you find the smart thing to do.”

Sirius stole the air from her lungs when he leaned down and captured her lips in a bruising kiss. She was stunned, paralysed with no idea what to do, but before her stillness could be misinterpreted as rejection, she found her eyes fluttering shut and her lips moving back against Sirius’ of their own accord. Her arms slowly wrapped themselves around his shoulders, hugging her closer to him, and he exhaled through his nose in content. It was like muscle memory, almost; instinctual and natural, like coming home after a long time away and having to slowly remember where everything should be placed.

Sirius’ passion was dizzying and Y/N felt faint from it, making her clutch onto him even tighter, kiss him even harder for something to hold onto. It felt freeing, as if she was unlocking a cage she’d built around herself and for the first time she could let go of all logic and just let herself be. They parted from each other when oxygen became a necessity and not a moment sooner, but they remained close, foreheads pressed together. Tender smiles bloomed across their faces. Both of them had been wanting to do that for a long time.

“I think I’d like to know you better,” Sirius said once they’d caught their breath.

“And I think I’d like you to know me,” Y/N said shyly.

Sirius grinned, pressing another short kiss to her lips. “I’m off to a good start already,” he said. “I already know all of the small things.”

[ about tag lists ]

SIRIUS BLACK TAGS: @emily1d97 @leftperfectionmoon

MARAUDERS TAGS: @siriusbarnesslut

HARRY POTTER TAGS: @nyotamalfoy