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Ëââ§ę°á Traitor: Sirius Black x Slytherin!Reader ŕťęą
CWs: outdated views on gender, hinted mistreatment of children, siriusâ parents, fem reader
Your mothers hand reached down to tap under your chin, a quiet request for you to keep your head level. You inhaled as you managed to look up at everyone around you.
Adults parading their children, those children threatening to frown in uncomfortable dresses and suits. You could feel your own clothes heavily on your body, your waist itched from the stitching and you couldnât even move to scratch it.
Minutes feel like hours following your mother around, listening to their adult conversations about circumstances youâve never heard of. You simply canât stand it any longer.
Ever so bravely, you tap her arm, âMummy, I have to use the lavatory please.â She doesnât spare you a glance, only moving to grasp your hand in a way only you could find threatening.
âOf course, Dear,â she squeezed your hand painfully, âYou remember where it is.â You donât, but you wouldnât dare tell her that. You take your opportunity to leave as you enter the nearest hallway. Anxiety fills your stomach as you quickly realize you really donât know where youâre going.
Your quiet footsteps lead you to the only door you can see is cracked open. Not actually needing the toilet, you tip-toe toward the door, peeking inside.
There you find a boy. Upon first glance, he could be your age- maybe older, heâs sitting at a table so you canât tell how tall he is. Black hair, gelled neatly but you could tell he was playing with the front, some strands completely out of place. He looked a bit grumpy as he blankly stared into a book. He wasnât reading it, you didnât see his eyes moving, but he was staring into it enough- turning pages at random rather robotically, that an outsider would think he was.
âWhat are you reading?â You ask as he jumps slightly, not expecting somebody outside the room.
âIâm not.â He says sharply, closing the book and tossing it onto the table, âBut I was holding âThe Outsidersâ.â
âOh, Iâm not sure if Iâve ever heard of it.â
âMe neither. It was just there. Who are you?â
You answer the question as you enter the room, closing the door behind you. You hear him scoff at your last name, having been compared to you by his parents for years.
âRight, nice to finally meet you, Iâm Sirius Black. What are you doing here?â He asks.
Your eyebrows raise at the mention of the âBlackâ name, your parents loved his parents yet refused to let you meet their children.
âIâm- uh- trying to escape for a little while.â You stuttered, trying to remember which boy your mother said to stay away from. You feel, though, it was him.
âRight, okay Trouble, let me guess; bathroom?â He smirked up at you, he already knew the answer.
You smile and shake your head at the nickname as you pull the chair out across from him and sit down, his eyes watching as you slightly start to writhe around. Youâre contorting your waist and shoulders, trying to rub your itchiness away on the back of the chair.
He hides his amused smile as you look back at him, finally a little more comfortable.
âI apologize,â you rush, embarrassed you ever did that- let alone in front of a stranger, âThese dresses are just so uncomfortable and I hate them.â
âDonât apologize, I canât imagine how anyone stands those things. I tried one on as a joke, and couldnât stand it for even a minute.â He responds, resting his chin in his hand. A silent reassurance that you didnât need to be perfect around him. You appreciated it.
âYou tried a dress on?â You laughed, âBut youâre a boy! Thatâs hilarious.â
âWhat, just because Iâm a boy means I canât try an item of clothing on? Thatâs ridiculous.â He answered, bracing himself for the all-too-common bullying that follows such a slip up. He canât hide his surprise when all you answer is, âYeah, I suppose youâre right. I would rather wear pants at events like these than this awful gown.â
He spends the next few minutes trying to figure you out as you close your eyes, welcoming the silence.
âI suppose I should get going,â You say as you gather your skirt and stand up, âMay I ask, though, are you the Black whoâs my age, or have you got a younger brother?â
He seems thrown off by this question, but answers anyway, âIâve got an eight year old brother out there with Mum, why do you ask?â
Giggling, âMummy always tells me to never speak to you. I donât know why, though, youâre good company.â You answer as you leave, closing the door behind you.
â
The dreaded annual gala for the Sacred 28 came far too soon. Your new gown, while not as itchy as last year, was still terribly uncomfortable and you hated following your parents around for hours on already sore feet.
Youâd been taught not to play with your fingers, or sway, or doddle. You hated staying still, and you hated listening to their conversations, and you hated the music and the atmosphere. You momentarily take deep breaths as to not let the negativity show on your face, and if anyone would have asked you would just apologize, blaming a bad mood.
You canât help but fantasize what you could be doing right now. Maybe you would be running through the fields, or climbing a tree you werenât supposed to climb. Maybe youâd lay in the grass and stare at the clouds you could see in the clear, summer sky. Or maybe-
You felt a hand on your shoulder. You looked up to your mother, whose eyes were glaring intensely into yours. Her hand tightened as you masked a wince, looking at the family in front of you. A mother, a father, and a son.
âI apologize, I didnât hear you.â You say, as politely as you can, smiling to add warmth.
The mother in front of you smiles tightly, âWould you be a doll and fetch Sirius for us?â You find that you donât like her smile. You nod anyway, turning and walking through the same doors you remember from last year, feeling watched. You didnât even want to think about what was going through your mothers head.
Rushing down the hall, your footsteps were louder this time when you found the door slightly ajar.
You walked in and found him holding the same book as last time, this time looking at you.
âTrouble! Glad you could find me.â He closed the book and smiled at you.
You smiled back and closed the door, âYeah, well, your mother is looking for you and she didnât seem very happy.â
He frowned, âWhy send you? No offense, but why not send Reg- Regulus? I mean- I thought our parents were trying to keep us apart for some reason.â
âIâm not quite sure, I really wasnât listening to their conversation. It did strike me as odd that they knew we had met. They had to have, right? To assume I even knew who you were?â
âI did mention I ran into a girl, Iâm sorry if they figured out it was you.â
âThatâs okay. Anyway, I believe we donât have much time to talk since theyâre expecting you.â You say, pulling out a chair and sitting across from him.
He pauses standing up, âThen why are you sitting?â
âWell, whoâs to say you werenât in the same spot as last time and it took me a little while to find you?â You smirked.
âYou really are trouble,â He laughed, âRight then what do you want to talk about?â
You hadnât really thought about it, âUmm⌠Oh! Youâre starting at Hogwarts this year, right? What house do you want to get sorted into?â
He faltered. Never in his life has he met someone who seemed so open about non-Slytherin houses. If your parents were Slytherins, you had to want to be a Slytherin, there wasnât really a choice.
âI guess,â He started, âMaybe I want to be a Gryffindor. I know it canât happen, but Iâve read stories where famous Gryffindors do fantastic things, and I think I want to be like them.â
You smiled, âI understand that. I think I want to be a Hufflepuff for similar reasons. Most of the Hufflepuffs Iâve read about have been so kind and understanding, helpful- I want to be like that when Iâm older.â
âThen I hope you get into Hufflepuff.â
âAnd I hope you get into Gryffindor, but what if I get sorted to Slytherin?â You frown.
âYou wonât, because youâre kind. Thereâs no such thing as a kind Slytherin.â
âPromise me that if I do, youâll still be friends with me?â
âI promise. But you wonât, believe me.â
He smiled back then sighed and stood up, âI guess we should go back out there, huh?â
You sighed as well but stood up with him. You both walked toward the door, but you stopped, realizing you were taller than him.
âWhat are you waiting for?â He asked, turning around, only to find you smiling down at him. He blushed slightly, âYeah, yeah, youâre taller than me, letâs just go.â
You laughed at his faux anger and followed him back out toward your parents.
â
You find yourself walking down the same hallway for the third summer in a row, finding the same door, and the same boy behind it.
âSirius! Hi!â You smiled, as you sat down opposite him, like always, âWhatâs wrong?â His hair was slightly more unruly, and he seemed to have a light grey color sitting under his eyes.
âHey, Trouble. Nothingâs wrong, just bittersweet.â He lied, gently.
âWhat do you mean?â You ask, tilting your head.
âI just- I think this will be the last time we see each other. Here, at least, until school.â
âWhy do you think that?â
âYou didnât hear? I got sorted into Gryffindor.â
âBut thatâs a good thing, I thought-â
âMy parents told me if Iâm not a Slytherin, I canât be around Slytherins. Something about me taking and using their information, and âWhy would I ever want to show off such a disgraceful blood traitor?â bullshit. Sheâs actually the one who sent me in here this time.â
âOh, Iâm so sorry⌠I canât even imagine what that must be like.â You could, though.
âDonât be sorry, I mean- Hogwarts is amazing. All my friends there are Gryffindors and theyâre the most welcoming people you could ever meet in your life.â
âTell me about them?â You ask.
He tells you about his friends, how theyâve formed their own little group: The Marauders. He tells you about the teachers he loves and the teachers he hates, and the classes heâs good at vs. the classes heâs not. You ask about the food there, and about the Headmaster.
Previously, youâve thought about how you could listen to him talk for hours, and now you have. You would gladly do it again.
Eventually the time for you to part rolls upon you. As you both walk toward the door, you turn around and you hug him.
Muffled into his shoulder, you say, âJust a hug to stay together for the next couple years, donât forget me.â
He wraps his arms around you, âAs if I could.â
â
Your eyes searched for him in the sea of red-lined robes. You and all the other first years were huddled in the middle of the Great Hall, being welcomed by professor Dumbledore, but you werenât even listening. Distracted by looking for his grey-blue eyes, you finally found them. He was already looking at you, pointing at you to his bespectacled friend. They both start waving to you, and you smile and wave back.
The two boys across from him turn around to look at you as your name gets called out.
You smile nervously at Sirius while he smiles reassuringly.
You walk up the steps and across the floor. You slide up the stool, and you can feel the Sorting Hat get placed on your head. Your eyes barely leave his as you hear the hat talking, âLoyal, kind, brave, and strong,â It starts, âbut your ambition rules over all else, you have a strong sense to prove yourself, donât you?â
You watch as Siriusâ smile slowly disappears.
âSlytherin!â The hat calls out, and you look over to the sea of green cheering for you. You donât feel very happy though.
You find Sirius again before you walk down the stairs, and he only spares one glare at you before he turns to his friends. The last thing you can think before you sit down next to the other first year Slytherins is, âbut he promised.â
Hello! Could you do a Barty Crouch Jr. x Fem! Potter! Reader.
Where they are both in Ravenclaw and get close and end up dating in secret because of the Slytherins and the marauders. But then something happens and they break up but Barty shows up at the readers house years later to warn her about Harry, James, and Lily. They rekindle (smut if you write it. Or leads to that?)
And I was thinking about two different endings.
Ending 1: The reader later finds out sheâs pregnant and has to raise their child on her own until the triwizard tournament where their child meets their father?
Ending 2: The reader goes to godric hollow that night to try to help them but ends up dying and Barty finds her and holds her?
Or if you like both you can do two different Barty x reader!
Love your fics by the way and I am Hooked to the series!!
Making Mistakes
Barty Crouch Junior x Potter!RavenClaw!Reader
Summary: (See above) After a horrible break up in 7th year, Barty and you haven't spoken a word to eachother. Then, he comes barrelling back into your life begging for forgiveness, will you trust him?
Wc: 16.8k
CW: Angst Heavy. Hurt/Comfort, Barty and the reader are messssy. Sexual themes and scenes. Mom!Reader, AFAB!Reader, Dad!Barty, Non canon complacent, The first part of the fanfiction is focused on the reader- second is focused on Ophelia(your daughter).
The Potter Manor, once warm and full of life, now felt cold and empty. The high ceilings and ornate decorations that had once felt grand now only magnified the silence. The vibrant reds and golds of your family crest seemed muted, much like the life that had once filled these halls.
Your brother, James, was hiding somewhere even you couldn't name- hardly able to visit outside of special occasions. Your parents had been gone for over a year. The house was far too big, far too quiet, and far too lonely. It wasnât just the emptiness of the space itself- it was the absence of the people who had made it a home. Youâd told yourself that time would help, but the grief lingered, stubborn and heavy, refusing to fade.
Even now, curled up on the couch in the living room- the one you used to complain was too cramped- you felt the space around you stretch endlessly. With a blanket over your knees, the fireplace crackling softly, and a book resting on your lap, it should have felt cozy. Instead, it felt hollow. You ran your fingers absentmindedly over the cover of your book, your other hand drifting to the necklace around your neck, the small charm resting just above your heart- a lone magpie.Â
It matched your patronus. Well, it matched what your patronus had become. Once, it had been a darling doe- calm and serene, a reflection of your regal- that's what Sirius had said. Now, it was the magpie: small, fierce, and energetic. It suited you, or at least the version of you that remained. Youâd felt yourself change, slowly but surely, in the years you knew a love so dangerous it tore off parts of you that you no longer remmebered.
Your fingers traced the delicate charm as your thoughts wandered to the person who had given it to you. Barty. The weight of his name still felt the same, a complicated tangle of emotions that hadnât untwisted no matter how much time passed.Â
You could still see his face the night youâd told him you couldnât do it anymore. The way his sharp features had frozen, the defiance and anger creeping in as soon as the words left your mouth. Youâd said you couldnât keep hiding, couldnât keep pretending that what you had didnât matter. Youâd told him you were tired of the stolen glances, the whispered promises, and the constant fear of being caught.Â
But you knew now that what had hurt him most wasnât the ultimatum- it was the fear. Fear of admitting to the world what you meant to each other. Fear of what he might lose if he dared to love you openly. Fear that his world and yours were too different, too far apart to ever coexist.Â
Now, as you sat there in the flickering firelight, your thumb brushed over the charm, the memories tugging at your chest. The book on your lap remained unopened as you stared into the flames, the ache in your heart as familiar as the necklace around your neck.
~~~
The flickering candlelight painted Bartyâs sharp features in gold and shadow as he lay beside you, his bare chest rising and falling steadily. The heat of your bodies still lingered in the cool air of the room, your skin damp against the soft sheets tangled around your legs. His fingers toyed with the charm resting against your collarbone, his touch so gentle it made your heart ache.
âCrow, can we talk?â You whispered, your voice soft but firm, breaking the fragile silence that had fallen between you.
Bartyâs hand froze, his fingers brushing against the charm one last time before he let it fall against your chest. His jaw tightened, his green eyes refusing to meet yours as he shifted slightly, feigning casualness. âWhatâs there to talk about, birdie?â He murmured, his voice smooth but unconvincing. Unsatisfied your little exercise didn't make you truly forget what you intended to talk about. âWeâre here. Together. Isnât that enough?â
You sat up slightly, leaning on your elbow as you looked at him. âNo,â You said softly, the word carrying more weight than youâd intended. âItâs not.â
He finally glanced at you, his expression guarded. âYouâre overthinking again,â He said lightly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. âCanât we just- canât we just enjoy this?â
âEnjoy what?â You challenged, your voice trembling slightly. âHiding? Pretending? Barty, we canât keep doing this.â
He groaned softly, falling back onto the pillow and running a hand through his disheveled hair. âWhy do you have to ruin the moment?â He muttered, though his voice lacked its usual sharpness. âWeâre happy, arenât we? Isnât that what matters?â
âAre we happy?â You shot back, sitting up fully now, the blanket slipping from your shoulders. âBecause I donât feel happy, Barty. I feel like Iâm suffocating.â
He sat up abruptly, his eyes narrowing as he fixed you with a desperate gaze. âDonât say that,â He snapped, his voice rising slightly. âYou donât mean that.â
âI do,â You said firmly, though your voice broke slightly. âI love you, Barty, but I canât keep pretending this is enough. I need more. I need us- the real us.â
âThis is the real us,â He argued, his voice frantic now. He reached for you, his hand gripping your arm as if holding onto you could stop you from slipping away. âThis is how we work, birdie. This is how we survive. You think the world would let us be together? You think theyâd let us have this?â
âI donât care what the world thinks,â You snapped, your own desperation rising to meet his. âI care about us. But this- this isnât sustainable. Weâre tearing each other apart, Barty.â
âOf course you donât care,â He spat suddenly, his grip tightening as his green eyes blazed. âYou wouldnât. Youâre a Potter. You come from your perfect Potter family with your perfect, golden life. You wouldnât understand what itâs like to have a family like mine- to be a Crouch.â
His words cut deep, the bitterness in his tone like a slap. But you didnât flinch. Instead, you stared at him, your voice steady as you said, âDonât you dare.â
He blinked, startled by the fierceness in your tone. âWhat?â
âDonât you dare use my family as an excuse to run from what you deserve,â You said, leaning closer. âJust because my parents loved me, just because James and I grew up with something good, doesnât mean you donât deserve that too.â
He scoffed, the sound bitter and sharp. âI donât deserve that. Not with who I am. Not with my name.â
âYes, you do,â You said fiercely, your hand finding his cheek, forcing him to look at you. âYou deserve love, Barty. Real love. Not this shadow of it weâre living in. But you have to believe that, or none of this will ever work.â
He stared at you, trying to read your expression, his jaw so tight you swore you could hear ticking. His grip on you was bruising, but you ached for it. You ached for his want, his desperate need, because without it- you felt like you were falling apart.
You leaned into him, your once hot skin chilling against the air of the room. On instinct, his hands slipped away from your arm and he wrapped them around your waist. Your hands found his chest and you moved all that bit closer. âWouldn't that be a dream, Barty?â You whispered, voice strained and tears threatening to spill from your eyes. âIf- if our kids,â You choked out and his eyes widened at your admittance of something solid. That was your dream. To be so true, so real, that starting a family was the obvious next step. âOur kids talk about us how I talk about my parents? That our son- our daughter- our little wix. They knew what a love like ours could do.â
Your words hit Barty like a physical blow, and for a moment, he looked utterly stunned. His hands on your waist tightened instinctively, pulling you closer as though the sheer force of your desperation could tether him to the dream you had just dared to voice.Â
âOur kids,â He echoed, his voice hoarse and filled with something you couldnât quite place- something between longing and disbelief. His wide eyes searched yours, as if trying to find the certainty he couldnât feel within himself. âYou really think⌠that we could have that?â
âI know we could,â You said, your voice trembling but resolute. âBut only if you let us. Only if you stop running from it.â
He shook his head, his hands trembling where they gripped you. âYou donât get it, birdie,â He said, his voice breaking. âIâm not⌠Iâm not good like you. Like your parents. I donât know how to be that kind of person.â
âYou think my parents were perfect?â You asked, your voice rising in frustration, shaking. âThey werenât saints, Barty. They argued, they made mistakes- but they never stopped trying. They never stopped fighting for what they believed in, for each other. And you can do that too.â
He let out a bitter laugh, the sound almost choking on its way out. âYou donât know what youâre asking. My family isnât like yours, okay? My father only believes in appearances, in power. Heâd never accept this- heâd never accept us. And if he found outâŚâ He trailed off, his expression darkening as a shudder ran through him.
âI donât care about your father,â You said fiercely, your hands cupping his face. âI care about you. And youâre not him, Barty. Youâre not your father.â
His eyes closed at your words, as though they hurt to hear. âI donât know how to believe that,â He admitted, his voice barely a whisper. âIâve spent my whole life trying to be what he wants, and even thatâs not enough. I donât know how to be anything else.â
âYou donât have to be,â You said, your thumb brushing softly against his cheek. âYou just have to be you. And you have to let yourself believe you deserve more than what heâs made you think you do.â
He opened his eyes then, and for a moment, you saw the cracks in his carefully built walls- the vulnerability he worked so hard to hide. âAnd what if I canât?â He whispered. âWhat if I ruin us?â
âThen we fight through it,â You said, your voice firm even as tears threatened to spill. âWe keep trying, just like my parents did. Just like I know we can. You donât have to be perfect, Barty. You just have to let yourself love me.â
His breath slowed, his hands sliding up your back as he pulled you into a desperate embrace. His head dipped into the crook of your neck, and you felt the wetness of his tears against your skin. âI do love you,â He said, his voice raw. âI love you so much it hurts. It scares the hell out of me, birdie.â
âI know,â You murmured, your hands threading through his hair. âI know, Barty. But love isnât supposed to be easy. Itâs supposed to be worth it.â
For a moment, you thought he might let himself believe you. His arms around you felt solid, grounding, as though he was holding on to you for dear life. But then, just as quickly, he pulled back, his eyes filled with an anguish that made your chest ache.
âI donât know if I can give you what you deserve,â he finally muttered, his voice trembling. âAnd I canât bear the thought of failing you.â
âYouâre not failing me,â You said, reaching for him, but he was already pulling away, retreating back behind the walls he had built to protect himself.
âI am,â He said, his voice cracking as he shook his head. Pushing you back and getting to his feet. âI already am.â
You watched, your heart shattering as he put on his clothes, back to you. Your eyes trailed the path your nails made against his back, your silent claim on him that he always begged you for. âBarty, Barty, please.â You sobbed out and you saw how stiff he grew. âBarty, my love.â
âI hear you, Birdie.â He whispered and buttoned up his shirt. Walking back to the bed, but staying out of reach from you. âAlways such a beautiful song.â He whispered before he leaned in and stole a kiss. âI'm sorry.â
âBarty-â You strained and he kissed you again. Over and over until he managed to push you back against the bed.
âI love you Birdie.â
âBarty-â
âBut I'm.. I'm not who you need.â
Your heart broke with every word that fell from his lips, each one chipping away at the fragile hope you'd tried to build between you.Â
âDonât do this,â You whispered, your voice trembling as tears spilled freely down your cheeks. âDonât say that, Barty. Donât leave me like this.â
He closed his eyes as if shutting out the sight of you would make this easier, though you both knew it wouldnât. âI have to,â He murmured, his voice thick with emotion. âIf I stay, Iâll ruin you. I canât do that, Birdie. I canât be the reason you lose everything.â
âYou are everything,â You choked out, grabbing his wrist in desperation as he made to pull away. âCanât you see that? Youâre what I choose, Barty. Youâre what I want.â
His breath stopped at your words, and for a fleeting moment, you saw the war raging within him. His body was tense, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might shatter. But then he shook his head, his eyes meeting yours with a tortured finality.
âYou deserve more,â His voice breaking as he leaned in to press one last kiss to your forehead. It lingered, soft and agonizingly final. âYou deserve a love that doesnât hurt like this.â
âI donât care about perfect,â Your hands clutching at his shirt as though you could physically anchor him to you. âI care about you.â
He pried your hands off of him gently but firmly, his touch reverent even as it was devastating. âAnd I love you,â He said, his voice barely above a whisper. âBut love isnât always enough.â
You shook your head vehemently, trying to reach for him again, but he stepped back, his retreat like a knife slicing through the air between you. âBarty, please,â You begged, your voice breaking entirely now. âPlease donât do this.â
His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, his own tears threatening to spill, but then he turned away, his movements slow and deliberate, as if each step was a battle.Â
He paused at the door, his hand on the frame, his back still to you. âYouâll always be my song, Birdie,â He said quietly, the nickname a bittersweet ache on his tongue.
And then he was gone, leaving you alone in the room that still smelled of him, your heart breaking in the silence he left behind. The only sound was your sobs, muffled by the pillow you clutched to your chest, the magpie charm pressing cold against your skin- a painful reminder of what youâd just lost.
~~~
You gave a low shaken sigh. Trying to still your shattering heart and gather your voice before it all became too much again.Â
You looked up at the mantle above the fireplace, unable to stop the smile that curled on your lips. The photos, of your parents on their wedding day, of Jamesâs first birthday, then yours. Then a photo of Lily and Jamesâs wedding, of Harryâs first birthday- just three months ago.Â
You stared at the photographs for a long moment, your fingers tightening around the magpie charm at your neck. The smiles in the photos were so vivid, so full of joy, that it felt almost cruel. Your parents, James, Lily, even baby Harry- they were all looping so present in the frozen moments captured by the camera. Yet here you were, alone in the vast emptiness of the manor, the weight of their absence pressing down on you.
The photo of Harryâs first birthday caught your eye. His tiny hand reaching for the cake, Jamesâs laughing face as Lily leaned in to kiss Harryâs cheek. You could almost hear the sound of their laughter echoing in the back of your mind, a memory you clung to desperately.Â
Your lips quirked into a faint smile, though it didnât reach your eyes. âJames would tell me to get up and stop being so dramatic,â You muttered to yourself, shaking your head. âHeâd probably say something ridiculous like, âYouâre a Potter, we donât mope, we plot.ââ
The thought of your brotherâs mischievous grin brought a pang of longing. You missed him fiercely- his energy, his unrelenting optimism, and even the way he teased you mercilessly. James had always been your anchor, the one person who could pull you out of your darkest moments. But now he was miles away, hiding with Lily and Harry, fighting a war you couldnât see but could feel in every corner of your being.
Your gaze drifted back to the fire, the flames dancing and crackling softly. The silence in the room felt deafening again, the weight of your solitude settling back over you. You tried to distract yourself by opening the book on your lap, but the words blurred together, meaningless against the storm of thoughts raging in your mind.
You closed the book with a frustrated sigh, setting it aside as you leaned back against the couch. Your fingers traced the magpie charm absently, your thoughts inevitably returning to him.
Barty.
His name echoed in your mind, and with it came a flood of memories- his rare, boyish smiles that he reserved just for you, the way his green eyes softened when he thought you werenât looking, the way he held you like you were the only thing tethering him to the world.Â
You closed your eyes, letting out a shaky breath as the memory of his voice played in your mind:
A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it, and you quickly wiped it away. Crying wouldnât bring him back. Crying wouldnât change the way heâd walked out of your life, no matter how much it hurt.Â
But Merlin, did it hurt.Â
The knock at the door startled you from your thoughts, the sound sharp and sudden against the heavy silence of the manor. You froze for a moment, your heart leaping to your throat as dread washed over you. The wards. You reminded yourself of the countless layers of protection James and Lily had insisted upon. No one with ill intent could step foot near the manor. Still, it took you a moment to move.
Your fingers tightened around your cardigan as you approached the door, peering cautiously through the window. Relief and confusion mingled as you saw Remus standing there, holding a bundle of flowers and looking chilled down to the bone.
You couldnât help the way your lips curved into a smile, the first genuine one in what felt like weeks. Remus always had that effect on you, with his quiet strength and steady presence. You opened the door without hesitation, the chill of the winter evening brushing against your skin as you pulled him inside.
âRemus!â You laughed, wrapping your arms around him tightly before he could say a word. The flowers in his hands crinkled against your shoulder, and he let out a low, startled chuckle.
âHello to you too,â He murmured, his arms coming around you after a brief hesitation. His embrace was warm and grounding, and for a moment, you let yourself rest in the safety of his hold. He cradled you like you were something fragile, something he was afraid might break if he squeezed too tightly.
When you finally pulled back, his sharp eyes roamed your face, scanning for any cracks in the mask you hadnât realized youâd been wearing. âYou didnât have to bring me flowers,â You hummed softly, trying to inject some lightness into your tone as you gestured to the bouquet.
Remus gave a sheepish smile, shrugging slightly. âI thought it might brighten your evening,â he admitted. âBut if Iâd known the hug was part of the deal, I mightâve come sooner.â
You let out a laugh and furrowed your brow further, unable to help how the cheeky comment brightened up your night that little bit more. âI see Sirius has gotten into you. Come in, let's go to the kitchen.âÂ
The kitchen glowed softly, the warm light reflecting off the polished wooden counters and copper fixtures. The steady hum of the kettle was a comforting backdrop to the quiet conversation you and Remus shared. You busied yourself preparing tea, your back to him as he leaned against the table, his long limbs relaxed but his eyes watchful.
âYouâve redecorated,â He remarked, gesturing to the new curtains hanging over the window. âIâm not sure the maroon suits the Potters, though. Sirius would call it RavenClaw overkill.â
You smirked over your shoulder, a hint of genuine amusement breaking through the lingering heaviness in your chest. âSirius would call anything not leather or black an abomination,â you retorted, setting two mismatched mugs on the counter.
Remus chuckled, a low, pleasant sound that filled the room. âTouchĂŠ. Though I do think the blue adds some warmth. This place could use it.â He glanced around, his expression softening. âIt feels different without⌠everyone.â
You paused for a moment, letting his words hang in the air. The truth of them settled deep in your chest, an ache that had grown all too familiar. âItâs been a bit lonely,â you admitted, your voice quieter now. âIâm not used to all this space- just me.â
He nodded, his gaze heavy with understanding. âI think theyâd hate to see you like this. Especially James. Heâd insist on dragging you to some ridiculous Quidditch match to cheer you up.â
You smiled faintly at the thought, a flicker of warmth chasing away the cold for just a moment. âHe would,â You agreed. âHeâd bribe me with chocolate frogs and promise not to embarrass me in front of the team, only to shout louder than anyone else in the stands. Calling us the seeker twins.â
Remusâs lips quirked into a small smile, but there was a flicker of something else in his expression- something that felt out of place. Nostalgia, yes, but also something deeper, something almost... reverent. His fingers drumming against his cup as he sat down at the table.
âYouâve always been good at making people laugh,â He said softly, his tone different now. His gaze lingered on you in a way that made your fingers hesitate as you poured the tea.
âYou give me too much credit,â You hummed lightly, though his words sent a faint blush creeping up your neck. âJames is the funny one. Iâm just the stubborn one.â
He tilted his head, his smile turning crooked- letting his fingers graze your wrist and fixing your cuff as you poured him his tea. âIt's a Potter trait. But I think itâs more than that.â
You turned to face him fully. âWhat are you getting at, Remus?â You narrowed your eyes, your tone teasing but your curiosity piqued.
He took the mug, his fingers brushing yours briefly, and for a moment, he didnât reply. He just studied you, his hazel eyes unusually intense. âYouâve always had this way of making people feel seen,â He said finally, his voice softer now. âLike they matter. Even when they donât think they do.â
His words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didnât know how to respond. âThatâs⌠kind of you to say,â You managed, looking down at your tea as you tried to gather your thoughts. âI donât think Iâve ever been particularly good at- â
âYou're selling yourself short, Birdie.â He chuckled. The nickname slipped from his lips so naturally, so casually, that it took you a moment to process. When it hit, your breath caught in your throat, and the air between you seemed to still.
You set your mug down slowly, your mind racing even as you fought to keep your expression calm. You turned back to the sink, gripping the edge tightly to ground yourself. â...What did you just call me?â
Remus stiffened, and you felt his gaze burn into your back. âWhat do you mean?â He mumbled, his voice suddenly cautious.
You turned around, your heart pounding- only one person called you by that name. âWhy are you here?â You crossed your arms, your voice steady despite the storm building in your chest. âAnd donât tell me itâs for tea.â
His expression faltered for just a second- just long enough for you to see through the carefully constructed façade. âIâm here because I wanted to see you,â His tone was measured. âTo make sure you were all right.â
âNo,â You scoffed, shaking your head as the pieces clicked together. âNo, you know I'm not a fool.â
He opened his mouth to respond, but you didnât let him. âWhy are you here, Barty?âÂ
His eyes widened, and for a moment, the mask slipped entirely. The careful demeanor, the warm smiles, the familiar quirks- it all fell away, replaced by a raw, vulnerable intensity that made your breath stop.
âYou always were too clever for your own good,â He muttered, leaning back in his chair with a resigned sigh. âGuess thereâs no point pretending now.â
Your chest tightened as the truth settled in. You gave a disbelieving scoff before you ran your fingers through your hair. Pacing slightly before you paused, a scary truth settling over you. âHow did you do it?â
Barty rolled his neck and leaned further into his seat to face you again. His expression neutral- the natural arrogant energy coming from him felt horribly wrong coming from Remusâs stolen face. âWhat exactly, birdie?â
âDon't play coy.â You snapped. âHow did you get as piece of Remus for the potion you used to lie your way past my wards and into my home, Crouch?â
â... I hate when you call me Crouch.â Barty's response was almost petulant, his lips twisting into a pout as he sat back in the chair, fingers tapping rhythmically against the porcelain mug he had barely touched. He tilted his head to the side, his green eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you, the faintest ghost of a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth.
âYou always know how to wound me,â He continued softly, his tone a mockery of vulnerability. âBut then again, you've always been too good at that, haven't you?â
Your stomach churned at the way he looked at you, like you were something to be admired and consumed all at once. It was too much, too familiar, and yet so far removed from the boy you once knew. You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, grounding yourself against the onslaught of emotions threatening to overwhelm you.
âAnswer the question, Barty,â You said sharply, your voice cutting through the heavy silence of the room. âHow did you do it?â
He sighed dramatically, as though the act of explaining himself was some grand inconvenience. âRemus has always been predictable,â He snarked lazily, his gaze never leaving yours. âHe's a creature of habit, like clockwork. It wasnât exactly difficult to collect what I needed.â
Your blood ran cold at the casual way he spoke about violating the trust of someone you cared for. âYou stalked him. You used him,â Your voice trembling with anger. âYou used him to get to me.â
He smiled then, a slow, deliberate curl of his lips that sent a shiver down your spine. âI did it for you, Birdie,â he said, his voice dropping to a low, honeyed murmur. âFor us. You donât understand how much Iâve missed you, how much Iâve needed you. Every single day without you has been... agony.â
âAgony?â You repeated incredulously, your voice rising as your anger boiled over. âYou donât get to talk to me about agony, Barty. You left. You made that choice, and now you want to waltz back in here, pretending like nothingâs changed?â
âBecause nothing has!â He shot back, rising from the chair so suddenly that it scraped against the floor with a harsh screech. He moved toward you, and despite yourself, you took a step back. âYou think I stopped loving you? You think I ever stopped thinking about you? Every second, every breath, itâs always been you.â
âStop,â You said firmly, holding up a hand to keep him at a distance. âYou donât get to do this. You donât get to waltz in here, steal someoneâs face, and act like youâre some lovesick hero.â
âBut I am lovesick,â He said, his voice trembling as he closed the space between you. âIâm sick, Birdie. Sick. Youâre the only thing that makes me feel alive, the only thing thatâs ever made sense. Donât you see? Iâm here because I love you.â
âLove?â You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. âYou donât even know what love is, Barty. Love doesnât manipulate. It doesnât lie. It doesnât use people. Get out.â
His expression switched to one of complete shock. As if he didn't expect to actually be sent away. You turned on your heels and walked down the hall, ignoring the stunned boy for a moment before he began to follow after you, taking a heavy breath. âBaby, birdie, don't walk away. Princess.â
Merlin, you hated to hear that coming from Remusâs mouth. It made your skin crawl.
His voice followed you like a shadow, echoing in the high ceilings of the manor. âBirdie, please,â He pleaded, a mixture of whining and anger that grated against your already frayed nerves. You didnât turn around, your footsteps quick and determined as you ascended the stairs. âDonât walk away from me!â
You didnât answer. You couldnât. Every part of you screamed to keep moving, to put as much distance as possible between you and the man who was once everything to you. Your grip tightened on the banister as you climbed, trying to block out the sound of his voice.
âStop ignoring me!â He shouted, his tone sharp with frustration. He was right behind you now, his steps uneven and frantic. âDo you think this is easy for me? Do you think I want to be like this?â
At that, you stopped abruptly, your heart pounding in your chest as you turned to face him. âDo I think this is easy for you?â You snapped, your voice trembling with barely contained fury. âYouâve made it abundantly clear, Barty, that youâll do whatever you want- no matter who it hurts.â
He flinched at your words, the rawness of them cutting through his desperation. But instead of backing down, he stepped closer, his expression a twisted mixture of anguish and determination. His face flickered again, the remnants of the Polyjuice Potion struggling to hold as patches of his sandy hair and pale skin replaced Remusâs softer features.
âIâm not trying to hurt you,â He said, his voice breaking. âIâm trying to fix this. To fix us.â
âThere is no us,â you spat, your hands shaking as you stepped back. âThere hasnât been for a long time. And that was your choice, Barty.â
âNo,â he said firmly, his green eyes blazing with an intensity that sent a chill down your spine. âYou donât get to put this all on me. You think I wanted to leave? You think I wanted to-â His voice cracked, and he clenched his fists, his body trembling with barely restrained emotion. âI didnât have a choice, Birdie. You donât understand-â
âYouâre right,â You interrupted, your voice rising. âI donât understand. I donât understand how someone who claimed to love me could leave me to pick up the pieces of a life we built together. I donât understand how you can come back now, pretending like you didnât shatter me.â
He took another step forward, his hands outstretched as though reaching for something he couldnât quite grasp. âBecause I had to,â he whispered, his voice hoarse. âDonât you see? I had to protect you. From my father, from the world we were in. I-â
âStop,â you said sharply, holding up a hand to cut him off. âDonât stand there and pretend you were some kind of martyr. You werenât protecting me, Barty. You were protecting yourself.â
His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked like he might argue. But then his shoulders slumped, and the fight seemed to drain out of him. âMaybe I was,â he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. âBut it doesnât change the fact that I love you. That Iâve always loved you.â
âLove?â You echoed bitterly, shaking your head. âYou call this love? Breaking into my home, stealing someone elseâs face, manipulating me into letting you in? Thatâs not love, Barty. Thatâs obsession.â
At that, something in him seemed to snap. His entire body tensed, and he closed the space between you in two long strides. âFine,â he hissed, his voice low and trembling with barely contained anger. âCall it what you want. Call me a monster, call me obsessed- but donât you dare tell me I donât love you.â
Before you could respond, his knees buckled, and he sank to the stair landing at your feet, his hands clutching at your covered thighs as though it were a lifeline. His chin pressed against your skirt, looking up at you with those eyes a young girl you knew once spent hours of her time lost in. Those brilliant and calculated eyes. Here he was; Bartemius Crouch Junior, with an ego to rival the gods and the mind and skill to back it up- on his knees. Looking up at you like an obedient dog. âHow can I not love you?â He whispered. âBirdie. My beautiful song bird. How?â
Your chest heaved as you looked down at him, his once-imposing figure now crumpled before you, hands gripping your skirt like you were the only tether keeping him from falling apart completely. His words, dripping with desperation, clawed at your resolve.Â
âBarty,â You whispered, your voice trembling, a mixture of anger and grief thick in your throat. âYou need to leave.â
His eyes shot up at your words, his green eyes wide with disbelief. He stared at you as if youâd just struck him, his lips parting slightly, searching for something to say. âNo,â he said softly, his voice unsteady but growing firmer. You watched as the full potion effect dropped away. âI canât leave. Not like this. Not when I know you still love me.â
You flinched, his words cutting deeper with his true voice, but you didnât waver. âThis isnât about love,â you said firmly, though your voice cracked. âThis is about you not knowing when to let go.â
He rose slowly, his movements deliberate, careful, like a predator trying not to spook its prey. He hovered over you now, his height casting a shadow that made the grand staircase feel suddenly small. His hand reached out, trembling as it moved toward your cheek, and you instinctively stepped back, pressing yourself against the banister.
âDonât,â You warned, your voice sharp.
His hand froze mid-air, his fingers curling slightly before he dropped it to his side. He exhaled shakily, his breath warm as it ghosted over your skin. âBirdie, please,â He murmured, his voice barely audible, his lips forming words you couldnât make out. His shoulders hunched as if the weight of his own need was too much to bear. âPlease donât send me away.â
You shook your head, tears threatening to spill over as you fought to keep your composure. âYou donât get to do this,â You hissed. âYou donât get to break into my home, throw yourself at my feet, and demand I fix you. Youâre not my responsibility, Barty. Not anymore.â
His hands twitched at his sides, his jaw clenching as he fought some inner battle you couldnât see. Then, in a single motion, his hands reached for you again, his movements quick but not violent, desperate but not forceful. Panic surged through you, and before you could think, your hand flew up, striking his cheek with a sharp slap.
The sound echoed in the hollow silence of the staircase.Â
He staggered back slightly, his hand flying to his cheek, but instead of anger, a strange expression crossed his face. His lips curved into a slow, almost delirious smile, his chest rising and falling as if heâd just surfaced from drowning.Â
âThat,â He murmured, his voice rasping with something unhinged, âfelt real.â
Your stomach churned, the unease twisting tighter as he stood straighter, his demeanor shifting. His hand dropped from his cheek, and he let out a low, almost relieved laugh, shaking his head. âThatâs the Birdie I know,â he said softly, his tone dangerously gentle. âThe one who knew what our passion meant- I miss her. Can I talk to her?â
Your chest heaved with the weight of his words, the deranged calmness in his voice sending your heart into overdrive. His smug, unhinged smile made the bile rise in your throat as your fingers curled into fists at your sides.Â
âYou miss her?â You snapped, your voice sharp and trembling. âThe Birdie you claim to miss is the one you destroyed, Barty! Sheâs the one you left behind when you decided to join them!â
The smile faltered slightly, and for a fleeting moment, you saw something like regret flicker across his face. But it wasnât enough. It could never be enough to erase what he had done.Â
âYou made your choice,â you continued, stepping toward him now, your fury overriding the trembling in your hands. âYou chose to follow him. You chose to become a monster, to fight against everything I stand for, everything my family stands for. You donât get to waltz back into my life and pretend none of it happened.â
âI did it for you,â His voice rising, his green eyes blazing as he stepped closer. âEvery single thing Iâve done was for you, Birdie! To protect you, to keep you safe, to make sure youâd never have to know what itâs like to be weak. You think I wanted to join them? You think I wanted to-â
âDonât you dare,â You cut him off, your voice trembling with rage. âDonât you dare try to make this about me. You didnât join them for me, Barty. You joined them because youâre too much of a coward to stand up to your father. You wanted power. You wanted to prove to him that you were more then him. But you didnât care who you hurt along the way, did you?â
He flinched as though youâd struck him again, his jaw tightening as his hands clenched into fists at his sides. âYou donât know what youâre talking about,â He hissed through gritted teeth, his voice low and dangerous. âYou donât know what itâs like to live with the weight of that name. To have no choice but to-â
âYou had a choice!â You screamed, the words tearing from your throat as tears stung your eyes. âYou always had a choice, Barty! And you chose them. You chose power. You chose to stand against me, against my family. Against James!â
He froze at that, his eyes wide and his breath hitching as though youâd struck a nerve. But you didnât stop. You couldnât stop now, not with everything bubbling to the surface.Â
âYou think I havenât thought about you every single day?â You demanded, your voice breaking as tears began to spill freely down your cheeks. âYou think I havenât wondered if there was something I could have done, something I could have said to stop you? To save you?â
âDonât,â He whispered, his voice trembling now, the bravado in his tone beginning to crack. âDonât say that.â
âYou donât get to tell me what to say,â You spat, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and heartbreak. âYou donât get to tell me anything anymore. You lost that right the moment you turned your back on me.â
He stared at you, his chest rising and falling unevenly as the weight of your words pressed down on him. And then, suddenly, he moved.Â
Before you could react, he closed the distance between you in a single stride, his hands gripping your face with a desperation that took your breath away. His lips crashed into yours with a force that stole the air from your lungs, the kiss searing and frantic, as though it was the only way he could express everything he couldnât say.Â
For a moment, you froze, your mind racing as the heat of his mouth overwhelmed your senses. You wanted to shove him away, to scream at him, to remind him of all the reasons this was wrong. But then something in you broke.Â
Your hands flew to his chest, not to push him away, but to pull him closer. The kiss deepened, raw and terrifying, a collision of anger, grief, and longing that neither of you could control. His hands slipped from your face to your waist, his grip bruising as he pulled you against him as if he could fuse you together.
The kiss deepened, and soon words no longer mattered. There were no more accusations, no more pleas, just the raw, unfiltered intensity of everything youâd both been holding back for far too long. It wasnât tender or sweet- it was desperate, filled with the kind of longing and pain that made it impossible to think about anything else. His hands mapped out every inch of you as though he was trying to memorize you, to hold onto something real in a world that had been slipping away from him for years.Â
And you let him. You let yourself forget, if only for a moment, what heâd done, what heâd become, and the mess heâd left in his wake. You let yourself feel, because Merlin knew you couldnât stand the ache of silence anymore. Â
It wasnât long before the tension gave way to something more, something equally terrifying and exhilarating. Clothes were discarded hastily, his lips tracing paths of fire along your skin, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the silence of the manor wasnât suffocating. It was electric.
You didnât speak a word to each other the entire time. The only sounds being your soft gasps and his inaudible murmurs- ones that sounded more like pleas than anything else. You couldnât give him more then that. Words would have only reminded you of the impossibility of it all, of everything youâd both lost. Words would have shattered the fragile bubble youâd created, where nothing else mattered but the two of you. Â
When it was over, you lay side by side in the fading moonlight, your bodies tangled in the sheets as the world slowly came back into focus. His breathing was uneven, his hand still resting on your waist as though he couldnât quite bring himself to let go. But you didnât look at him. You couldnât. You stared at the ceiling instead, your mind a chaotic storm of emotions you werenât ready to unpack.
~~~
The morning light filtered in through the heavy curtains, painting the room in soft hues of gold and grey. You stirred slightly, the ache in your body a reminder of the night before, but you kept your eyes closed, willing the world- and him- away. Â
You heard him moving about, the rustle of fabric as he dressed. For a brief, fleeting moment, you thought he might leave quietly, that he might spare you the agony of facing him after everything that had happened. But then he spoke, his voice low and hesitant, as though testing the waters. Â
âIâll come back later.â Â
You scoffed softly, rolling over to face the wall, your back to him. You didnât say a word. You couldnât trust yourself to speak without breaking, without letting the storm inside you spill out. Â
âBirdieâŚâ His voice was softer now, almost pleading, but you didnât move. You kept your breathing even, your expression neutral, even as your heart clenched painfully in your chest. Â
The air felt heavier as the silence stretched, broken only by the soft creak of the floorboards as Barty lingered by the door. His shadow loomed across the threshold, hesitant, like a ghost caught between staying and vanishing.Â
âBirdie.â He whispered, his voice raw and strained, as though dragging each word out of his chest cost him a piece of himself. âOne last thing.â
You didnât respond, your body curled away from him, but he knew you were awake. He always did.
âYou have to tell James.â He sighed, the words tumbling out in a quiet rush. âAbout his Secret Keeper.â
Your breath stopped, but you didnât move. Every muscle in your body tensed as his words settled over you like frost, cold and unforgiving.
âBarty, what are you talking about?â You finally whispered, your voice hoarse as you turned just enough to glance over your shoulder. He looked so different in the pale morning light, the shadows on his face accentuating the cracks in his armor, the boy you once loved bleeding through the man he had become.
âJust promise me,â He cut you off, his tone suddenly sharper. âYou'll.. warn him not to trust them.â
You stared at him, searching his face for answers, but all you found was that same haunted intensity youâd seen last night. He wasnât lying- at least, not about this. But that didnât make it any easier to believe.Â
â... okay.â You muttered. âI will.â
Barty stared at you like he wanted to say a million different things at once. Instead, he turned, the door closing behind him. You hugged your knees to your chest and willed away as much of reality as possible. Begging for any sense of normalcy to return; even the painful loneliness.
But nothing truly worked.
~~~
As the days went on, the weight of Barty's absence hung over the time that followed like a storm cloud. He hadnât come back, and you werenât sure if you were relieved or heartbroken. The last words heâd said lingered with you, haunting your every quiet moment: Tell James. Warn him.
Youâd followed through on his warning, albeit reluctantly. It had been difficult to convince James without revealing the entire truth, but the grim look in his eyes had told you he believed you, or at least enough to act.Â
Nothing happened at first, but Peter was monitored. It didn't take long for everything to come to light; Peter was working against you. It all worked out. James was ready for him that night, the night he came for Harry, surprising the monster before he could act. Peter tried to run after the news came out, but a furious Sirius tracked him down for a confrontation. One with an explosive end for their former friend, nothing left of the boy but a finger.
It did take a few hours of wrestling with the Aurors, but after being proper witnesses and all of your evidence of treason- Sirius was released. Walking out of the holding cell with a smile that could blunt the sun. Lily and James were safe. Baby Harry, too. Relief and disbelief were all anyone seemed capable of, but you couldnât bring yourself to celebrate. Not fully. Because in the same breath that the Dark Lord fell, Barty was taken to Azkaban.
You hadnât dared to ask about the details. Not from James, not from Sirius, not from anyone. Knowing felt like it would only make it worse. But the knowledge of him locked away, cold and alone in a place that stripped people of everything, clawed at your chest in the silence of the manor.
You had lost him all over again, and this time, you knew there was no coming back.Â
The days that followed felt like a blur of motion and noise, a sharp contrast to the oppressive stillness that had once consumed you. You refused to let Barty- or the ghost of him that lingered in your mind- define you any longer. He was gone, and you couldnât afford to let his absence drag you down any further. Not when there was work to be done.
You didnât go to his hearing. You couldnât. The idea of sitting in that courtroom, of listening to them talk about him as though he was nothing more than a monster, was too much. It wasnât that you disagreed. Heâd made his choices, and the world would see him for what heâd become. But for you, he was still the boy who had once traced your blemishes like constellations and whispered that you were the only light in his life.Â
Even now, looking back, you had always known what that young boy was capable of. The signs were there; and the raking guilt of knowing that you were possibly the only thing keeping him from becoming what he seemed so keen on being, taxed your self worth.
So, you pretended that night didnât happen. That he didnât exist. The magpie charm around your neck was tucked away in a drawer, along with the pieces of your heart that still ached for him. You buried it all deep, focusing on what you could control, on what you could fix.
Joining the Order to help clean up the aftermath of the war felt like a natural next step. It was what your parents would have done, what James would have done if he wasnât busy. Saying he wanted to be a proper father to Harry and a good man to Lily. Lily still stayed close, there wasn't many healers with her talent. But James stepped down. It was what you needed to do. The world hadnât stopped turning, and there were still Death Eaters to hunt, still innocent people to protect, still so much damage to undo.
The first few missions were grueling, physically and emotionally. You worked long hours, tracking down the last of Voldemortâs loyalists and dismantling the remnants of their operations. It was dangerous, messy work, but you thrived in it. The chaos kept you moving, kept you from lingering too long on the memories that threatened to pull you under.
You found solace in the chaos of the Order. Sirius, always protective, tried to keep a close eye on you, though he seemed to understand your need for space. Remus was steadier, offering quiet support when you needed it most, though you often pushed him away. And James- when he wasnât with Lily and Harry- was your anchor, his unrelenting optimism a reminder of the person you used to be.
But there were moments, late at night, when the world went quiet, and you couldnât escape the weight of it all. When you lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, and his voice echoed in your mind. When you caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of your eye that reminded you of him, and your heart clenched painfully before you forced yourself to look away.
And then there were the whispers. The Order didnât really talk about Barty, he was just another cog in the operation, but you heard the murmurs. About his trial, about Azkaban, about how someone so young and clever could have fallen so far. You kept your head down, pretending not to hear, but the words cut deep.
The recklessness came on slowly at first, creeping into your choices like an insidious shadow. You pushed yourself harder on missions, volunteering for the riskiest tasks, throwing yourself into danger with a desperation that bordered on self-destructive. It was easier to focus on the fight, on the rush of adrenaline and the sharp edge of survival, than to confront the gaping void Barty had left behind.
Sirius and Remus noticed, of course. They werenât blind to the way you flinched at certain names, or how you worked yourself to exhaustion. Sirius tried to laugh it off at first, making quips about how you were channeling your inner Gryffindor âunder all that Ravenclawâ. But Remus, ever perceptive, wasnât fooled. His hazel eyes lingered on you with quiet concern, though he said nothing outright. Not until the mission that changed everything.
It was supposed to be a straightforward raid: infiltrate a suspected Death Eater hideout, gather intel, and get out. But things rarely went as planned. The ambush was swift and brutal, spells ricocheting off walls and sending debris flying. You and Remus were in the thick of it, your wand moving instinctively as you deflected curses and fired back.
Then it happened. A flash of green light, too close, too fast. It was aimed directly at Remus, who had his back turned while shielding a fallen comrade. Without thinking, you moved. You felt the spell hit you like a freight train, knocking the air from your lungs as a searing pain ripped through your side.Â
You barely registered Remusâs horrified shout as you crumpled to the ground, your vision blurring. The sounds of the battle faded into a dull roar as your consciousness slipped away, the last thing you saw being his anguished face hovering over you.
~~~
Remus paced the length of the ornate carpet, his fingers raking through his hair repeatedly as though he could scrub away the memory of what had happened. Sirius sat slumped on the sofa, uncharacteristically silent, his dark eyes fixed on the fireplace. The flickering flames did nothing to ease the tension in the room. Â
Remusâs chest tightened with guilt, each second that passed driving the weight deeper. He could still see it- the flash of green light, the way you had thrown yourself in front of him without hesitation. The moment felt frozen in time, looping endlessly in his mind. Â
âMoony, sit down,â Sirius huffed finally, his voice low and hoarse. It was an order, but not a harsh one. Â
âI canât,â Remus replied, his voice taut as a wire. âShe- she couldâve-â Â
âBut she didnât,â Sirius interrupted, his tone firm. âSheâs alive, and Lily is better then any healer we have.â Â
Remus halted mid-step, his jaw clenched tightly. âShe shouldnât have had to save me,â he said, his voice cracking. âShe- sheâs half alive, Sirius. If anything happens to her-â Â
Siriusâs gaze darkened, and he stood, crossing the room in a few long strides. He placed a hand on Remusâs shoulder, squeezing it tightly. âYou listen to me,â His eyes were sharp but his voice was steady. âSheâs as stubborn as James, maybe more so. Thereâs no way sheâd have stood by and done nothing, and you know it. Blaming yourself wonât change anything.â Â
Remus opened his mouth to respond, but the sound of the front door opening cut him off. Both men turned toward the entrance just as James entered, his face pale and tense. Harry toddled in after him, clutching his fatherâs pant leg with wide, curious eyes. Â
âWhere is she?â James asked immediately, his voice sharp with worry. Â
âSheâs upstairs,â Sirius said quickly. âLilsâ with her. She hasn't come back down yet.â Â
The tension in the room was suffocating, the silence broken only by the faint crackle of the fire and the occasional creak of floorboards as Remus paced. Sirius watched James carefully, noting how his hands trembled ever so slightly as he held Harry close. It was subtle, but for someone as unshakable as James Potter, it was telling.
âI need to go to her,â James said abruptly, his voice sharp and breaking the heavy stillness. He passed Harry to Sirius, who took the toddler without protest, his dark eyes wary. âSheâs my sister. She shouldnât be alone.â
âYou canât,â Sirius said firmly, standing up to meet Jamesâs gaze. âLily said we need to give her space. Sheâs working.â
âI donât care what Lily said!â James snapped, his voice louder now, desperation seeping into his tone. âThatâs my little sister lying upstairs, Sirius. If something happens- if she-â He cut himself off, swallowing hard as he fought to steady his breathing. âI canât just sit here.â
âYou think I want to?â Sirius shot back, his voice rising to match Jamesâs. âYou think Remus wants to? Merlin, Prongs, weâre all going mad down here, but Lily knows what sheâs doing. Sheâll call us if- when- thereâs news.â
James ran a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable. He knew if anyone could understand even a fraction of what he was feeling it was Sirius- you had endeared yourself to him in a way not many people could. And those people were in this house. âShe doesnât get to keep me from her,â He muttered, his tone dangerously low now. âNot her. Not anyone.â
âJames, listen to me,â Sirius snapped, stepping closer, his hand gripping Jamesâs shoulder tightly. âYou storming in there isnât going to help her. Itâs not going to help anyone.â
Before James could respond, the sound of light footsteps descending the stairs cut through the room like a knife. All three men turned toward the staircase as Lily appeared, her face pale and her expression unreadable. The sight of her made James freeze, his words dying in his throat. Siriusâs grip on Harry tightened, and Remus stopped pacing entirely.
Lilyâs hands were clasped tightly in front of her, and her eyes darted between the men before finally settling on James. âCan I speak with you alone?â She asked softly, her voice calm but heavy with something that made Jamesâs stomach churn.
âWhat is it?â He demanded, taking a step toward her. âLily, just tell me-â
âPlease, James,â She interrupted, her voice breaking just slightly as she glanced toward Harry, who was still nestled in Siriusâs arms. âCome with me.â
James hesitated, his body rigid with tension, but the look in Lilyâs eyes left no room for argument. He turned back to Sirius and Remus, his jaw clenched tightly. âIâll be back,â He said, though his voice wavered.
James followed Lily just a few steps into the hallway before she stopped, her back to him as she hesitated. Lilyâs words were hushed and inaudible, even to Remusâs keen ears- or maybe, he just wasn't willing to know just yet.
Jamesâs expression shifted from tension to something unreadable, his brows drawing together as he processed Lilyâs quiet words. The weight of whatever she had said seemed to hit him all at once, and his jaw went slack, his eyes widening in stunned disbelief.
Sirius and Remus exchanged a quick glance, their concern growing as they watched James stagger back a half step, his hand running through his already disheveled hair. His lips moved as though forming a question, but no sound escaped. Whatever Lily had told him, it had shaken him to his core.
Sirius shifted Harry on his hip, his protective instincts flaring. âWhat the hell did she just say to him?â He muttered under his breath to Remus, his dark eyes narrowing.
âI donât know,â Remus replied quietly, his voice tight with unease. James finally looked at Lily, his wide eyes searching hers for confirmation.Â
James didn't hesitate after Lily's nod. He took the stairs two at a time, his worry and confusion pressing heavily on his shoulders. His hand gripped the banister tightly as he moved, the wood creaking faintly under his weight. Sirius and Remus exchanged uneasy glances from their spot by the fireplace, the tension thick enough to choke on. Â
Lily lingered at the base of the stairs for a moment, watching James's retreating form before turning back to the room. She mustered a soft, reassuring smile, though it didnât quite reach her eyes. Â
âSheâs fine,â she said quietly, addressing Sirius and Remus. Â
Sirius raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. âFine? You call that fine?â He gestured toward the staircase with a sharp nod, where James had disappeared moments before. âProngs looked like he was about to keel over.â Â
âShe is,â Lily insisted gently but firmly. âBut James.. they just need to talk.â Â
Remus frowned, his sharp hazel eyes darting between Lily and the stairs. âIf sheâs fine, why is he in such a rush? What arenât you telling us, Lily?â Â
Lily hesitated, her smile faltering slightly as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. âItâs not my place to say,â she said finally, her voice soft but resolute. âYouâll have to ask her yourselves when sheâs ready.â Â
Sirius let out a low growl of frustration, running a hand through his hair. âGreat. Love a good mystery. Just what we need after all this.â Â
Remus, however, wasnât so easily placated. His gaze lingered on Lily, his instincts screaming that there was more to the story than she was letting on. But he didnât press her. Not yet. Â
Instead, he leaned back against the arm of the couch, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. âWhatever it is, itâs obviously got James in a state,â he muttered under his breath. Â
Lily offered him a small, almost apologetic smile before excusing herself, taking Harry from Sirius, as she headed toward the kitchen, leaving Sirius and Remus to stew in their unease. Â
~~~
James reached the door to your room, his breath coming in shallow bursts as he paused to gather himself. He wasnât sure what he was expecting to find on the other side. The worry twisting in his chest was relentless, and the weight of Lilyâs cryptic words only added to his unease. Â
He knocked softly, his knuckles brushing the wood. âItâs me,â He called quietly, his voice trembling slightly. âCan I come in?â Â
There was a moment of silence, and then your voice- weak but steady- drifted through the door. âItâs open.â Â
James pushed the door open and stepped inside, his eyes immediately searching for you. You were propped up against a pile of pillows on the bed, your complexion pale but no longer deathly. A soft blanket was draped over your lap, and a steaming mug rested on the nightstand beside you. Â
Relief flooded through him at the sight of you awake, but it was quickly tempered by the shadow of exhaustion that lingered in your eyes. Â
âHey,â he said softly, his voice breaking the quiet. Â
You managed a faint smile, though it didnât quite reach your eyes. âHey, Jamie.â Â
He crossed the room in a few strides, pulling the chair closer to your bedside and sinking into it. His hands fidgeted in his lap as he searched for the right words, his gaze flickering between your face and the mug on the nightstand. Â
âYou scared the hell out of me,â He sighed finally, his voice barely above a whisper. Â
You looked down, your fingers picking at the edge of the blanket. âI know. Iâm sorry.â Â
James shook his head, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. âDonât apologize,â He said firmly. âJust⌠talk to me. Please. Whatâs going on? Lily said youâre fine, but-â Â
âLilyâs right,â You cut in gently, meeting his gaze. You were able to see all the true overbearing nature of James Potter. When you were younger his protective nature used to irritate you- he was always on, all the time, brash and loud- a proper lion. Now? You wanted nothing more than to curl up against him and cry. But that's the last thing you could allow yourself to be- weak. âIâm fine, James. Or at least, I will be.â Â
He studied you for a long moment, his hazel eyes filled with a mixture of concern and doubt. âLily said.. you needed to tell me something.â
James tilted his head slightly, his brows furrowing as he studied your expression. There was something guarded in your eyes, something that made the air between you feel heavier. His concern deepened when you let out a soft, shaky breath and slowly ran your hand over your abdomen.
The motion was small, almost absentminded, but it struck James like a thunderclap. His eyes widened, his lips parting as the realization sank in. For a moment, he was utterly still, his mind racing to catch up with what youâd just silently told him.
âNo,â he breathed, the word barely audible as he leaned back in his chair, his face pale with shock. âNo.â
You didnât say anything, didnât move, didnât breathe. You simply held his gaze, your fingers resting lightly on your abdomen.
James swallowed hard, his voice trembling as he asked, âBambi, when?â
The nickname, soft and familiar, broke something inside you. But you held firm, your eyes flickering away from his as you shook your head. âIt doesnât matter,â You whispered, your voice barely above a murmur.
Jamesâs leg began to bounce, his eyes flickering from you to the door a few times before he shot up from his seat and began to pace. âWhen did you find out?â He demanded sharply, his voice tight with tension. Â
âTonight,â You admitted quietly, your fingers curling around the blanket on your lap. Â
James stopped mid-step, spinning on his heel to face you. âTonight?â He repeated, his voice rising slightly. âAnd you didnât think to tell me immediately? Merlinâs sake!â Â
You flinched as his voice raised, but you held your ground, meeting his gaze with a calmness you didnât entirely feel. âI was a little busy almost dying, James,â You hissed, your voice firmer now. Â
He opened his mouth to argue but then snapped it shut, his jaw tightening as he resumed pacing. âFine. Fine,â He muttered, more to himself than to you. âBut youâre leaving the Order.â Â
You let out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking your head. âAs if theyâd want me back after that stunt,â You shot back. âIâm not exactly in peak condition for fieldwork, am I?â Â
James ignored your sarcasm, his hands balling into fists as he continued his relentless pacing. âGood. You shouldnât be anywhere near this madness,â He said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. âNot now.â Â
Your heart clenched at his words, the overbearing protectiveness youâd come to associate with him hitting harder than ever. But before you could respond, he stopped abruptly, his hazel eyes narrowing as a new thought seemed to strike him. Â
âWho is it?â He demanded, his voice sharp and almost accusatory. âWho?â Â
You swallowed hard, the weight of his question settling over you like a lead blanket. âIt doesnât matter,â You pushed, though your voice wavered slightly. Â
Jamesâs expression darkened, his jaw tightening as he began to pace once more. âDoesnât matter?â He echoed incredulously, his voice rising. âIt absolutely matters, Bambi. You canât just- Merlin, you canât drop something like this and expect me not to-â He cut himself off with a growl, shaking his head as he muttered under his breath. Â
James's pacing came to an abrupt halt, his hazel eyes narrowing as the pieces began to fall into place. He turned to you, his expression shifting from confusion to a dawning realization that made your stomach drop. Â
âThe wards,â he said slowly, his voice low and dangerous. âThe ones Lily and I put up for you- someone wouldâve had to get past them. Someone who knew how to.â Â
You froze, your heart pounding in your chest as his gaze locked onto yours, sharp and unrelenting. Â
âWho was it, Bambi?â he demanded again, his tone deadly serious now. âWho the hell got past the wards?â Â
Your throat tightened, and for a moment, you couldnât find your voice. You looked away, your fingers gripping the blanket tightly as if it could shield you from the weight of his question. Â
âAnswer me!â Jamesâs voice cracked, a mixture of desperation and anger bleeding into his tone. Â
You took a shaky breath, your gaze fixed on the wall as you whispered, âYou donât want to know, James.â Â
âThatâs not your choice to make,â he shot back, his voice trembling. âTell me.â Â
You finally met his gaze, your eyes brimming with tears as you whispered the name that had haunted you for weeks, for months: âBarty.â Â
The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of your admission hanging heavy in the air. James stared at you, his face a mixture of shock, anger, and something deeper- betrayal. Â
âBarty Crouch?â He asked slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. Â
You nodded, your throat too tight to speak. Â
âBarty Crouch Junior?â James pushed and you gave a weak scoff.
âJames- yes Junior.â You huffed, your anger boiling over.
James stared at you, his chest rising and falling with the effort of keeping his temper in check. His jaw clenched so tightly you thought it might shatter, but his eyes- those familiar, warm hazel eyes- betrayed the storm inside him. He was angry, yes, but the anger wasnât directed at you. It wasnât even directed at Barty. It was directed at himself.
For a moment, the room was silent, the only sound the faint beating of rain against the windows. You could see it, the way his hands trembled slightly as he tried to decide what to say. Finally, he spoke, his voice low but sharp enough to cut through the silence.
âHow long?â He asked, his tone controlled but strained. âHow long were you seeing him?â
You swallowed hard, gripping the blanket in your lap. âJames-â
âHow. Long.â His voice cracked, louder this time, the control slipping for just a moment. He was trying, you knew he was trying, but the weight of everything was too much for even him to hold back.
You took a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. âIt started fifth year.â you admitted quietly. âIt ended seventh. And he.. he showed up here. He told me about Peter.â
Jamesâs face twisted, and he turned away, his hands dragging through his already-messy hair. He let out a low, frustrated sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a growl. âFifth year?â he muttered to himself. âMerlin, Bambi, how did I not see it? How did I-â He cut himself off, pacing again.
You bit your lip, tears stinging your eyes. âJames, please-â
âI..â He started but stopped- as if your tears alone tore apart at his flimsy heart. Closing his eyes and taking a steady breath. âSo he made it past the wards. He came and told you about Peter and what? You-â
âJames please just drop it. He's in Azkaban for life! It doesn't matter.â
James froze mid-step, his fists clenching tightly at his sides as his back remained turned to you. His shoulders heaved with the weight of unspoken words, his frustration palpable in the charged silence that filled the room.
"It doesn't matter?" He finally repeated, his voice low and filled with a quiet, simmering rage. "It doesn't matter?"
You flinched at his tone, gripping the blanket tighter as you tried to steady your breathing. "He's gone, James," you said softly, your voice trembling. "There's nothing left to fight over. There's no point in dragging this out."
James spun around to face you, his hazel eyes blazing with a mixture of anger, hurt, and disbelief. "No point?" He hissed, taking a step closer. "You think Iâm angry because of him? Merlin, Bambi, I couldnât give a damn about Barty Crouch. Iâm angry because you didnât tell me. Youâve been carrying this- this secret- alone, and now youâre trying to push me away again."
"I'm not pushing you away," You shot back, your voice rising slightly. "I'm trying to protect you! You have Lily, Harry- your family. You don't need to be dragged into this mess, James. Itâs mine to deal with."
His expression softened for a fraction of a second, but the anger quickly returned. "Youâre my family," he said fiercely, his voice breaking slightly. "You always have been. And if you think for one second that Iâm going to stand here and let you face this alone, then you donât know me at all."
You stared at him, the raw emotion in his voice cutting through your defenses like a blade. Your chest ached, torn between the desire to let him in and the fear of burdening him further. "James, I-" you began, but your voice faltered as tears welled in your eyes.
He closed the distance between you, dropping into the chair beside your bed. His hand found yours, warm and steady despite the tremor in his grip. "Listen to me," he said softly, his tone losing its edge as his thumb brushed over your knuckles. "I donât care how messy this is. I donât care how much it hurts. I just care about you."
The dam inside you broke, and a sob escaped your lips as you clung to his hand like a lifeline. "I donât know how to fix this," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I donât know how to move forward."
James squeezed your hand tightly, his gaze unwavering. "You donât have to figure it out alone," he said firmly. "Weâll take it one step at a time, together. You hear me, Bambi? Youâre not alone in this."
The weight on your chest eased ever so slightly as his words sank in, the overwhelming love and determination in his voice a balm to your fractured soul. You nodded, unable to speak as the tears streamed down your face, and James pulled you into a tight embrace.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you allowed yourself to lean on him, to let the walls youâd built around yourself crumble. And as James held you, murmuring reassurances that you would face whatever came next together, you felt the smallest flicker of hope begin to bloom in your chest.
After you recovered, you faced the daunting task of telling Sirius and Remus. Their reactions were nothing like youâd expected. After weeks of being stuffed up in that dingy room.
Sirius, ever the one to surprise you, turned softer than youâd ever seen him. It reminded you of the day Lily announced she was pregnant with Harry. He was standing in the kitchen when you told him, fiddling with a mug of tea. The moment the words left your lips, his eyes widened, and he nearly dropped the mug onto the countertop.Â
For a moment, you thought he might pass out, but then his face broke into a beaming smile that almost seemed out of place for the weight of what youâd just told him. âYouâre joking,â he said, his voice barely above a whisper. When you shook your head, tears welling in your eyes, he stepped forward, his hands gripping your shoulders firmly. âMerlin, youâre not joking.â
âIâm sorry,â You began, your voice cracking as the apology spilled from your lips. âI didnât mean for this to happen, I-â
âStop,â Sirius interrupted, his tone so warm it took you aback. He let go of your shoulders and instead pulled you into the tightest hug youâd ever received. âDonât you dare apologize,â he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. âYouâll be a good mum, do you hear me? A bloody brilliant one.â
Tears slipped down your cheeks as you clung to him, his words washing over you like a balm. âBut Sirius,â you tried again, your voice muffled against his shoulder. âThe father-â
âI donât care,â he said firmly, pulling back to look at you. His gray eyes were intense, but not with judgment- only love and determination. âI donât care who he is, or what heâs done. This baby is going to have the best mum in the world. And theyâre going to have me too, whether they like it or not.â
You let out a shaky laugh, his unwavering support lifting some of the weight off your chest. He grinned at you then, that mischievous, boyish grin you thought youâd lost after the war. âMerlin, James is going to lose his mind when he meets them,â He said, his voice laced with humor. âBut Iâm going to be the favorite uncle, just you wait.â
But then there was Remus.
You found Remus later in the sitting room, a book in his lap, though he wasnât reading it. His eyes were distant, his fingers absently tracing the edges of the pages. He looked up when you entered, and the small smile he gave you faltered slightly when he caught sight of your expression.
âRemus,â you started hesitantly, sitting down on the sofa across from him. You fidgeted with your hands, unsure of how to begin. âThereâs⌠something I need to tell you.â
He didnât say anything, but the corner of his mouth quirked upward ever so slightly. His gaze flickered to your stomach for a moment, then back to your face. His expression was calm, almost amused, but there was a glint of something in his hazel eyes- something knowing.
âI-â you faltered, feeling suddenly uneasy under his gaze. âItâs⌠itâs important.â
He hummed softly, setting the book down on the armrest. âGo on, then,â He said, his tone light but laced with curiosity. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees as he studied you.
You took a deep breath, the words caught in your throat. âRemus, I-â You stopped when he lifted a finger to his nose and tapped it lightly, the gesture so quick and casual it took a moment to register.
You frowned, your heart skipping a beat as realization slowly dawned on you. âRemus,â you said again, your voice sharper this time. âYou already know.â
His smirk grew slightly, the mischievous tilt of his lips catching you completely off guard. âI might,â he said nonchalantly, leaning back against the couch with an air of smugness. âThough itâs much more fun watching you squirm.â
You stared at him, your mouth opening and closing as you tried to process his words. âHow?â You finally managed, your voice a mix of shock and disbelief. âHow do you know?â
He shrugged, crossing one ankle over his knee. âIt wasnât hard to figure out,â he said casually, though there was a teasing lilt to his tone. âThe scent changed a few days ago.â
âThe scent?â You repeated, utterly baffled.
His smirk deepened, and he tapped his nose again, his hazel eyes sparkling with amusement. âEnhanced senses, remember? The subtle shifts, the hormones- itâs all there. Just like Lily. Didnât think Iâd notice?â
You stared at him, utterly dumbfounded. âYou could smell that I was-?â
âPregnant?â He finished for you, his tone softening slightly. Hearing Remus be the first to break- to finally say the word properly- it brought a smile to your face. âYes.â
You buried your face in your hands, groaning softly as the embarrassment washed over you. âMerlin, Remus, you couldâve said something!â
âAnd miss this moment?â He teased, leaning forward again. âNot a chance.â
You peeked at him through your fingers, narrowing your eyes. âYouâre insufferable.â
âOnly because I care,â he quipped, his smirk turning into a warm smile. He reached out, his hand resting gently on yours. âI knew youâd tell me when you were ready.â
His words melted some of the tension in your chest, and you let out a shaky laugh. âWell, Iâm telling you now,â you said softly. âIâm⌠Iâm having a baby.â
His smile grew, the teasing glint in his eyes giving way to something softer, something warmer. âI know,â he said simply, his voice steady and reassuring. âAnd youâre going to be amazing.â
Tears pricked at your eyes as his words settled over you, their sincerity hitting you squarely in the chest. âThank you, Remus,â you whispered.
~~~
Even after everything, it was as smooth as it could possibly be. James, Lily, and Harry all finally packed up from their safe house and moved back into the Potter Manor.Â
Sirius and Remus finally stopped torturing everyone and confessed to their little run around of affections.Â
The years passed like a dream, each one carrying its own triumphs and heartaches. The war faded into history, though its scars remained etched into the lives of those who survived it. Life moved on, not always neatly, but with a resilience that surprised you.
Sirius and Remus opened a small library nestled on the corner of Diagon Alley and a quiet cobblestone street. It was cozy, with tall shelves of books that seemed to reach the ceiling, a perpetually warm fireplace, and a small reading nook tucked into the back. The name on the window read Padfoot and Moonyâs Rare Reads, though it quickly became known simply as âThe Den.â
Remus spent his days writing accurate, unbiased Defense Against the Dark Arts books, ones that became staples in Hogwarts classrooms. His name grew to rival even Gilderoy Lockhartâs (though, unlike Lockhart, Remus didnât need embellishments to sell books). Sirius, of course, claimed full credit for every ounce of their success, though he spent more time charming patrons and hosting wildly popular storytelling nights than actually working.
Your daughter, Ophelia, was the light of your life. She had her fathers eyes- but carried a quiet intensity in her gaze that reminded you of a young girl you once knew. Sirius adored her, and James, ever the doting uncle, took it upon himself to teach her everything he could about Quidditch, much to Lilyâs dismay. Harry, now only 6, had taken on a brotherly role, often sneaking her chocolates or helping her catch frogs in the garden when no one was looking.
But it was Remus who seemed to understand Ophelia in ways even you sometimes struggled to. He noticed the way she retreated into her own thoughts, the questions she asked that were far too insightful for her age. He never pushed her, always waiting patiently for her to come to him with her thoughts, her worries, or her triumphs. It was Remus who first noticed how much she loved books, spending hours reading to her in that steady, soothing voice of his.
One quiet afternoon, while Ophelia played on the rug with a stack of enchanted building blocks, you stood at the counter of the library, watching Remus as he worked on editing a draft of his latest book. The sunlight streamed through the windows, catching the streaks of silver in his hair, and you couldnât help but smile.
âIâve been meaning to ask you something,â You said softly, your voice breaking the comfortable silence.
Remus looked up from his notes, his hazel eyes warm and curious. âWhatâs on your mind?â
You stepped closer, your hands resting lightly on the counter. âI wanted to ask if youâd consider being Opheliaâs godfather.â
His expression froze for a moment, his pen hovering above the page. Then, slowly, a smile broke across his face, wide and genuine in a way that made your chest ache with affection. âAre you serious?â He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
âDead serious,â You teased lightly, though your voice trembled with emotion. âShe adores you, Remus. And so do I. Thereâs no one else Iâd trust more.â
He set his pen down and rose from his chair, crossing the short distance between you in a few strides. He hesitated for only a moment before pulling you into a tight, warm hug. âIt would be an honor,â He murmured, his voice thick with emotion. âThank you.â
~~~
It was late summer, and the warm golden light streaming through the windows of the Potter Manor made the room feel alive, even as you worked through the seemingly endless task of packing Opheliaâs trunk for another school year at Hogwarts. She sat nearby, perched on the edge of the armchair with her dark hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders, her head bent over her meticulously written list.Â
She was elegant without trying, a quiet sort of grace that seemed inherent in her very being. Even now, as she frowned slightly at the parchment in her hands, the faintest furrow of her brow betrayed her focus; her fingers fiddling with the magpie necklace you gifted her on her eleventh birthday. You couldnât help the soft smile that tugged at your lips as you watched her. She was so much her own person- intelligent, curious, and brimming with quiet determination- but in her moments of focus, you could see glimpses of her father in her too. It made your chest ache with a love so fierce it almost hurt.
âMum,â She said finally, her voice gentle but tinged with that signature note of exasperation. She didnât look up from her list as she spoke. âI told you- I need new potion vials. The ones from last year cracked.â
You folded one of her robes carefully and placed it into the trunk, glancing over at her with a soft chuckle. âAnd I told you, my love,â You hummed, your voice calm and warm, âthat youâll get them when we go to Diagon Alley. Harry and the Weasleys are meeting us there, remember?â
She let out a dramatic sigh, finally lifting her head to meet your gaze. Her sharp, inquisitive eyes- so much like his and yet so uniquely her own- sparkled with that combination of pride and determination that seemed to define her. âI donât see why I canât just go by myself,â She challenged, crossing her arms over her chest in that effortlessly regal way of hers. âIâm not a baby, you know.â
You raised an eyebrow at her, the corners of your mouth lifting into a knowing smile. âYouâre thirteen,â You countered gently, pausing in your task to give her your full attention. âAnd while I have no doubt that you could navigate the alley on your own, Iâd prefer to keep you in one piece. Humor your mother, will you?â
Ophelia rolled her eyes dramatically, but the faint smile that tugged at her lips betrayed her. âFine,â she relented, her tone light but tinged with mock indignation. âBut only because you insist.â
You laughed softly, reaching over to brush a stray strand of hair from her face. âThank you, darling,â you murmured, your voice soft with affection. âI donât know what Iâd do without you to keep me on my toes.â
She tilted her head slightly, her expression softening as she studied you. âProbably live a very peaceful, boring life,â She sighed in faux aspiration, her words playful but her tone warm. âNo dramatic letters about professors or requests for obscure potion ingredients.â
âDonât forget the long rants about Magic Theory,â You added with a smirk, resuming your task as you carefully folded another one of her robes. âIâd be lost without those.â
Ophelia gave a delicate shrug, her lips curving into a smile that was pure mischief. âWell, someone has to keep you informed,â She said lightly, glancing back down at her list. âYouâd be dreadfully out of touch without me.â
âPerish the thought,â You mused, your tone laced with mock horror. But as you reached for another item to pack, you couldnât help the warmth that bloomed in your chest.Â
Despite her pride and sharp wit- or perhaps because of it- Ophelia had a heart so full of love and passion that it left you in awe. She was your miracle, your everything, and the reason you had fought so hard to build a life worth living after everything youâd endured. And though she sometimes tested your patience, you wouldnât trade a single moment with her for the world.
As you worked together in companionable silence, the house around you buzzed faintly with the promise of the day ahead. Soon, the Floo Network would carry her off to join Harry and the Weasleys, and you would meet James and Lily later at the Leaky Cauldron. But for now, in this moment, it was just the two of you, and the quiet love you shared was enough to fill the room with light.
âOphelia,â You called softly, breaking the silence as you tucked the last item into her trunk. She looked up at you, her expression curious. âYou know I love you, donât you?â
Her sharp features softened instantly, and she set her list aside, crossing the small space between you to wrap her arms around your waist. âOf course I do, Mum,â She murmured, her voice quiet but sure. âAnd I love you too.â
You held her close, your heart swelling with a love so fierce it threatened to overwhelm you. No matter how many years passed or how independent she became, she would always be your little girl. And in that moment, as the sunlight streamed through the windows and the world felt soft and safe, you were reminded once again of just how lucky you were to have her.
~~~
The cobbled streets of Diagon Alley buzzed with life, the chatter of families mingling with the clink of cauldrons and the rustle of shopping bags. Children darted between storefronts, their excitement infectious, while parents called after them, juggling lists and parcels. But Ophelia paid the lively scene no mind. She moved with purpose, her steps elegant yet determined, weaving through the crowd with a quiet confidence that belied her thirteen years.Â
âHonestly, Harry, itâs just a bookstore,â sheâd said earlier, rolling her eyes at her cousinâs protests. âIâll be fine.â Her tone, a perfect blend of exasperation and poise, had left little room for argument. Sheâd dismissed him with a wave of her hand, her pride unwilling to entertain the notion that she needed an escort for something so trivial.
Now, her prize- a hefty tome on advanced magical theory- was clutched tightly under her arm, its worn leather cover radiating the promise of knowledge. She moved briskly, her dark hair swaying as she navigated the bustling street, her mind already racing ahead to the countless possibilities the book would unlock. The noise of the crowd seemed to fade as she glanced down at the book, her lips curving into a satisfied smile.Â
It wasnât just the content that thrilled her- though the promise of unraveling complex magical concepts certainly did- it was the independence of it all. Sheâd insisted on going alone, had chosen the book herself, and now, with it safely in hand, she felt a sense of accomplishment she wouldnât admit to anyone.Â
With her head held high and a quiet pride radiating from her, Ophelia turned her steps back toward the group, determined to reunite with Harry and the others before anyone could begin another lecture on responsibility. For now, though, the world felt bright, the possibilities endless, and she relished the brief moment of freedom.
That was when she heard it.
The cheerful hum of Diagon Alley faded into the background as a sharp, panicked cry reached Ophelia's ears. She froze mid-step, her heart skipping a beat as her gaze snapped toward a shadowy alley just ahead. The sound came again, muffled but unmistakably distressed. Her fingers instinctively tightened around the book she carried, and she shifted her weight forward, craning her neck to see.
In the dimness of the alley, two figures stood locked in a tense struggle. The taller one had the smaller pinned against the brick wall, his grip tight around the otherâs collar. âYou've got nerve, Pettigrew.â The smaller figureâs pale hair fell in messy strands across his face as he squirmed against the hold, his voice trembling.Â
âPlease,â the blonde figure gasped, desperation lacing every syllable. âIâm sorry! I wonât look for you again. H-he wonât hear of your escape- not from me!â
Opheliaâs breath hitched. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she took in the scene. The smaller figureâs voice cracked with panic, his pale blue eyes wide and darting frantically. The taller figure, shrouded in shadows, stood silent and imposing, his wand raised. A faint, menacing glow illuminated the tip, the threat unmistakable.
She didnât think. She didnât pause. Her wand was in her hand in an instant, and she stepped into the mouth of the alley, her voice cutting through the tense air like a blade.
âOi! Let him go!â She shouted, her tone sharp and commanding.Â
Both figures froze, their heads snapping toward her. The taller manâs wand lowered slightly, his body going rigid with hesitation. The smaller figure twisted his neck, his gaze locking onto hers, and for a fleeting moment, Ophelia saw a flash of something in his pale eyes- hope? Relief?
It didnât last.Â
The blonde manâs lips parted, and before she could speak again, his body jerked unnaturally. The sound of cracking bones and tearing sinew filled the air, a grotesque symphony of transformation. Opheliaâs stomach churned as she watched the manâs form contort, shrinking and twisting. Within seconds, he was gone, replaced by a scruffy, dirt-streaked rat.
âWhat the- ?â The words barely escaped her lips before the rat lunged forward, its sharp teeth sinking into the taller manâs hand.Â
The man let out a hiss of pain, his grip faltering just enough to allow the rat to squirm free. In a blur of motion, it darted down the alley, disappearing into the shadows with a faint, scuttling sound.Â
Ophelia stood rooted to the spot, her wand trembling slightly in her grasp. Her wide eyes flicked from the spot where the rat had vanished to the man now turning toward her, his movements deliberate, his frustration radiating like heat.Â
As he stepped into the dim light filtering from the street, his features came into view. Sharp, angular lines carved a face that was both striking and unsettling. His dark hair fell messily across his brow, and his green eyes burned with a mixture of irritation and something else- something far more dangerous.
Ophelia squared her shoulders, her heart thundering in her chest but her chin lifting in defiance. She clutched her wand tightly, the poised elegance of her posture belying the unease bubbling beneath the surface. Every lesson her mother had taught her about composure echoed in her mind, steeling her nerves.
âWho do you think you are?â she demanded, her voice cold and cutting. âPicking on someone smaller than you in an alley? How pathetic.â
The manâs lips quirked into something that might have been a smirk, though it didnât reach his eyes. He took a step closer, his tall frame casting an intimidating shadow. âAnd who,â he said, his voice low and measured, âdo you think you are to interrupt something that doesnât concern you?â
âIâm the girl whoâs about to hex you into next week,â she shot back without missing a beat, her wand steady as she pointed it at his chest. âBack off, or youâll find out just how much trouble a thirteen-year-old can cause.â
The man hesitated, his head tilting slightly as he studied her. His gaze dropped from her face to her neck, and his sharp eyes narrowed, honing in on the small magpie charm resting just above her collarbone. The faint light caught the delicate metal, and for a moment, his composure faltered.
âThat,â he murmured, his voice strained, âisnât yours.â
Opheliaâs brows furrowed, her hand instinctively rising to the charm. Her fingers brushed over the familiar metal as her mind raced. âWhatâs it to you?â she retorted, her tone sharp, her grip on her wand unwavering. âIt was a gift.â
The manâs jaw tightened, and for a fleeting moment, something flickered across his face- recognition, anger, and a hint of something she couldnât quite place. âWho gave it to you?â he demanded, his voice rougher now, almost desperate.
Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she straightened her spine, her wand tip glowing faintly as she met his intensity head-on. âThatâs none of your business,â she said firmly.Â
He took another step forward, his green eyes blazing with an intensity that made her breath hitch. âIâll ask you again,â he growled, his voice a dangerous whisper. âWho gave you that charm?â
Ophelia didnât flinch. Instead, she tilted her chin higher, defiance sparking in her gaze. âMy mom,â she said clearly, her voice carrying an unmistakable note of pride. Her lips curved into a faint, deliberate smile as she added, âYou should know her. Iâm a Potter, after all.â
The man froze. His entire body stiffened, his green eyes widening ever so slightly before narrowing again. Something shifted in his expression, a mixture of shock, pain, and anger that he quickly tried to mask. He stared at her as though he were seeing a ghost.
Ophelia arched an eyebrow, her confidence swelling as she saw the cracks in his composure. âOh,â she said lightly, her tone dripping with mock disappointment, âdonât tell me youâve forgotten about us. That would be awfully sad- we are war heros.â
The manâs lips pressed into a thin line, his hands twitching at his sides. He took a small step back, his expression unreadable as he muttered, âA Potter.â
âThatâs right,â she said evenly, her wand still raised. âAnd unless youâd like to explain what youâre doing lurking in alleys, I suggest you leave.â
He didnât respond. Instead, he turned sharply on his heel and disappeared into the shadows without another word, leaving Ophelia standing in the mouth of the alley, her chest heaving as she tried to steady her breath.
She glanced down at the charm again, her fingers brushing over its surface. Who was that man? she wondered, a faint chill creeping down her spine. And why did the sight of this charm seem to haunt him so?
~~~
The Leaky Cauldron buzzed with its usual chatter, the comforting scent of roasted meat and freshly baked bread drifting through the warm air. You sat at a large table with James, Lily, Sirius, and Remus, laughing at one of Siriusâs over-the-top tales from Hogwarts. The lightness in the room felt like a rare and precious gift, a momentary escape from the shadow of battles fought and sacrifices endured.
The door swung open with a sharp creak, a gust of cool air sweeping in as Harry entered with Ron, Ginny, and Ophelia. Their cheeks were flushed from the bustling streets outside, their movements slightly hurried. Your gaze instinctively fell on Ophelia.Â
Something was wrong.
She lingered behind the others, her usual confident stride replaced with hesitant steps. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, as though trying to shield herself from the world. Her sharp features looked drawn, pale, and etched with unease.Â
âOi, there they are!â Sirius called out, raising a hand in greeting. âTook you long enough. Did you stop for ice cream?â
Ron mumbled something about Fred and George dragging them into Weasleysâ Wizard Wheezes, but his words barely registered. Your focus stayed fixed on Ophelia as she slipped into the seat beside you. She didnât look up, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her cloak, her head bowed like she was trying to disappear.
âOphelia, love,â you said gently, leaning closer to her. âEverything alright?â
Her shoulders tensed, and for a moment, she said nothing. She just sat there, her hand brushing against the magpie charm around her neck. It was a small, almost subconscious motion, but it spoke volumes.
âYeah,â she murmured after a pause, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her. âIâm fine.â
You frowned, your worry deepening. She was many things- brilliant, fiery, and determined- but never this quiet. You reached into your bag, pulling out a few Galleons, and slid them toward Harry, Ron, and Ginny. âWhy donât you three grab some ice cream for real this time? My treat.â
The three exchanged uncertain glances, but Ron was the first to shrug and stand. Harry hesitated, his concerned gaze darting toward his cousin, but eventually, he and Ginny followed Ron out of the pub.
The second they were gone, you turned back to Ophelia. âYou donât look fine,â you pressed softly. âWhat happened?â
Across the table, James and Lily shared a look, their worry mirrored in their expressions. Sirius, his usual joviality replaced with quiet intensity, leaned back in his chair, studying Ophelia closely. Even Remus put down his cup of tea, his sharp gaze focused on her.
Opheliaâs fingers twisted together in her lap, her head ducked low. âItâs nothing,â she muttered, her voice barely audible.
âOphelia,â you said again, your tone a little firmer this time. âYou can tell me. Whatever it is, Iâm here.â
For a moment, she stayed quiet, the tension in her shoulders radiating like a pulse. Then, in a gesture so small it almost went unnoticed, she leaned into you. Her head rested against your arm, her nose pressing into the fabric of your sleeve.Â
You froze for half a second before wrapping an arm around her, pulling her close. She didnât cry- Ophelia never cried- but the way she clung to you spoke louder than words.Â
âMom.â She muffled against your side. As if recharging her spent bravado and bravery in your arms. âDo we know a Pettigrew?â
Summary: The youngest daughter of Queen Charlotte and King George, plagued by the same illness as her father, grows tired of her lonely and isolated existence. When escaping the prison-like castle she has been sequestered in for her entire life, she meets a young man who shares her love for painting and whom she can not stop thinking about. Secrets, betrayal, and love all fight against one another. Which one will win?
Series Warnings: Love at first sight; POV third person; eventual smut; isolation; dramatic/inaccurate depictions of mental illness; thoughts of death; there will be fluff, okay? I swear; potential historical inaccuracies; complex mother/daughter relationship; historical medical practices; SIMP Benedict; idgaf about historical canon; complicated sibling relationships; execution by hanging
Tags specified before each chapter
(Tags will be updated as the story continues)
Last Updated: 03/28/24 (Complete)
*indicates smut
Chapter One - Loathing Boredom
Chapter Two - Ruinous Secrets
Chapter Three - Never is a Promise
Chapter Four - As the Poets Say
Chapter Five - Vagrant Body
Chapter Six - Codes and Clues
Chapter Seven - Dig My Fingers in
Chapter Eight - No Light of My Own
Chapter Nine - This Sweet Plague *
Chapter Ten - Tricked By the Past
Chapter Eleven - No Label, No Name
Chapter Twelve - Keeping Time
Chapter Thirteen - Only You Can Mend
Chapter Fourteen - Not Above Violence
Interlude - Lady Whistledown
Chapter Fifteen - Matching Wounds
Chapter Sixteen - Go Along to Be With You
Chapter Seventeen - Balanced on Desire
Interlude - Marietta
Chapter Eighteen - Oh, My One
Chapter Nineteen - Like Fuel to Fire *
Chapter Twenty - If I Send for You
Interlude - Honeymoon *
Chapter Twenty One - An Atom and a Star
Chapter Twenty Two - The Bed I Was Born In *
Chapter Twenty Three - Don't Wait to Understand
Chapter Twenty Four - Fingers Laced a Crown
Chapter Twenty Five - Here to Kingdom Come *
Epilogue - A Moment, A Love
Drabble - Pall Mall
Drabble - Picnic
Drabble - Like Mother, Like Son
Drabble - Jealousy
Drabble - More Than a Maid
Drabble - Coronation Day
Drabble - Second Son
Drabble - Number Four
Drabble - Reasonably Unreasonable
Drabble - Tag, You're It
Drabble - Sisters
Drabble - Spoiled
Drabble - Opal of the Season
Drabble - Fit for Family
Drabble - Garden in Bloom * (smut adjacent)
Drabble - What if? AU
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Prompt: âCâmere, you can sit in my lap until Iâm done working.â
Siobhan Roy x Reader
summary: cuddles, baked goods, and insecurity
okay so a few things⌠this is my favorite fic Iâve ever written. Iâm sorry that itâs so much shorter than everything else, but Iâm sooo proud of it I love it so much itâs my little baby
I wrote way beyond the prompt, so I hope you donât mind xx I was just making myself feel better haah xx
anon, thank you so much for requesting <3 I love you and I hope you love it xxx
tw for weight and eating talk. youâre beautiful, I love you, and you deserve the world, reader <3
Word Count: 1.628k
âCome on, babe, just give me another half hour.â
Youâre perched on your girlfriendâs desk as she works. Shivâs been here, at the Waystar office, since six in the morning. Itâs now eleven P.M.
âYouâve been here for way too long,â you point out. She doesnât say anything, absorbed in whatever it is sheâs working on on her computer. âI wanna go home.â You pout at her, trying to earn some sympathy.
She heaves a sigh, going to type something. âThen go home.â Her voice comes out harsh, and you wince. Sheâs been overworking herself for weeks. You know she doesnât mean to be snappy- it just happens to her. She gets overwhelmed, she gets frustrated, and sheâs still working on being able to regulate her emotions when theyâre negative. You frown at her from your spot on the corner of her desk. She stops herself, taking a short breath. âIâm sorry. I just really need to finish this stuff.â She rolls her chair closer to you and leans up, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss before going back to work.
âLove, whatâre you even working on?â you ask softly, moving to hook your fingers around hers. She smiles, but keeps her eyes trained on her laptop.
âJust some campaign things. They need to be done before tomorrow afternoon, and I have meetings all morningâŚâ She fiddles with one of the rings on your pointer finger.
âLook, do you know you really canât wrap up now?â
âNo, really, babe, I have to get this done-â
Sheâs interrupted by the noise you make sliding off her desk. âIâm sorry, itâs just- Iâve been here all day, Shiv. You have, too, and if youâre not going to come home with meâŚâ
âWhat? Youâre going? No, No.â She looks up at you, brow furrowed. âCâmere, you can sit in my lap until Iâm done working.â
âSiobh-â
âCome on.â
With a sigh and dumb smile on your face, you go over and deposit yourself into her lap. She strokes up and down your thigh with one hand, reaching around you with the other. She sets her head on your shoulder and she continues to peer at whatever it is sheâs doing.
You lean back into her, strangely content. You turn your head far enough to be able to kiss the side of her temple. âI love you.â
âI love you more,â she murmurs into your shirtsleeve. âYou know, I like this.â Her hand shifts from your thigh to the side of your neck, her fingers hunting for a strand of hair to play with. She twists a soft lock around her fingers, pressing a lazy kiss into your shoulder.
"So, how's Weston doing?" you ask with a smirk on your face. You'd met him at one of her work parties, and she swore up and down that she had nothing to do with him. You believe her, obviously. You know she's only interested in you. But you know Weston's into her, and she's oblivious.
"He's been acting... strange lately. I think you scared him," she says, lips brushing over your neck. You laugh. You enjoy teasing her like this. You know she doesn't take it personally. She's just happy she gets to spend time with you, see you laughing, see your face split into that radiant fucking smile of yours.
"Ha! Good." You nuzzle into her, using your hips to burrow further into her lap. You can feel the heat rush through her body, her hand clamping down on your side. It's only a matter of seconds before her attention is off of you, to your dismay. "Shiv," you whine. "Enough work for the night. Please? For me?"
She lets out an airy sigh, pressing a kiss onto the back of your head, into your hair.âIâm sorry. Letâs go home.â
You take her chin and guide her mouth to yours.
She makes a satisfied noise against your lips. She tastes like honey. Honey crafted by Dionysus for one of his wines. She groans deeply when you shift in her lap, unintentionally grinding against her.
You get to your feet, Shiv following after packing up her things. Her computer bag slung over her shoulder and her hand in yours, she drags you through the parking garage. âDo you really have to go to work tomorrow?â
âWhat kind of question is that?â She pauses to toss her stuff into the back seat of your car while you climb into the driverâs seat. âBut no. Iâll stay home. I know you have the day off.â She gives you a peck before you start driving.
God, you love staying home with her. Your life became infinitely better when you moved in with her. You were both so madly in love with one another. Life was in color when you were with you, in black and white when you werenât.
Before she disappears into the bathroom to begin her nightly routine, she kisses you deeply. Youâre sure you can get drunk off of the way she tastes alone. She tastes like pure sunlight. Like liquid gold.
Sheâs stressed, she has so much on her mind, so much to do. Itâs getting late, but you want to do something for her. If you hurry, you think you can have your plan neatly executed before sheâs inclined to go to sleep. As fast as you can, you find the spare dough from the last time you did this for her. You quickly roll everything out, shaping the cinnamon buns, and have a glaze and frosting made. You pour honey over the dough so that when you bite into the buns, the honey oozes out, warm and sweet. You dip them in the glaze and you have them in the oven under the half hour.
Shiv strolls out from the bathroom, hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. God, her eyes. You can never look away from her eyes. Her silk pajamas leave most of her skin exposed- her supple thighs, her plush arms. Her hips fill out her shorts in a way that makes you embarrassingly hot and bothered. She's a goddess walking on earth unworthy of her. You want to drop everything you're doing in your life to just do whatever the fuck she asks of you. To spend the rest of your days with her. She's so fucking beautiful and you can't believe she's committed herself to you. You just love her so much. You feel so fucking lucky.
âWhatâs baking?â she asks, cuddling up to you on the couch. âIt smells nice.â She takes your arm and puts it around her. Her cheek presses into your shoulder. Sheâs blinking back sleep, but sheâs holding on. Anything to spend more time with you.
âYour favorite,â you murmur back.
âAre you sure? Itâs late,â she says unconvincingly, looking up at you with a dreamy look on her face.
âYou should treat yourself, Shivvy,â you tell her. Your expression is one loaded with affection. You hope you two never have to separate.
She kisses you quickly. âI love you.â Soon enough, your timer rings, and you get up to get the honey cinnamon buns out of the oven. She hovers over you as you set the tray on the counter. The steam swirls through the air, twirling between the two of you. Her arms wind around your waist, her head leaning into your neck. âI mean it. Youâre the best human being on the planet.â
You kiss the top of her head. âYouâre my girl. Iâd do anything for you.â
She plants a warm kiss into the crook of your neck before grabbing a plate from the silverware cabinet. âLetâs share one!â
âOh, uh, you can have it all,â you say quickly.
âNo, you too. I canât eat this all by myself.â She cuts the bun in half, settling both sides on the same plate so you could share. Like you always do.
âUm, I really shouldnât be having any sugar,â you say meekly. âIâve been gaining.â You look away, ashamed.
Youâve had issues with your body, with eating, for as long as you can remember. It was embarrassing to admit, but they started and childhood, and no matter how hard you fucking tried, they never went away. Especially as of recently.
Going to the gym, eating healthy. You did it all- or at least you thought it did. But you suppose not, because you were worse off than you started.
âBaby,â Shiv says incredulously. âGaining? Where? If anything, itâs muscle.â She nudges you with her hip. She can tell when things run deep. This is one of them. âCome on. You canât actually think you need to lose weight.â When you donât say anything, she presses on. âIs this a self confidence thing? Youâre literally the prettiest woman Iâve ever seen in my life. Youâre hips are the sexiest thing-â
âIâm sorry. Iâm sorry, letâs just eat?â
âNo, no, Iâm solving this issue,â she insists. âI donât care if youâre a little chubby- which youâre not -because that doesnât mean anything. Youâre healthy, youâre a smoke show, so whatâs it fucking matter?â
She drops the knife she was waving around while she spoke, instead coming over to smooth her hands over your jaw and give you a nice, long kiss. She pulls away and presses a fat kiss to the spot just above your belly button.
The two of you eat together, you albeit hesitantly, but she urges you on. Youâre glad you have her. Sheâs everything to you, and youâre everything to her.
When you kiss her the last time for the night, she tastes of what you imagine the rest of your life with her is going to look like.
in this au reader is a bullied yet brilliant transfer student to the prestigious and haunted hawkins college in the early 90s. somehow she manages to catch the eye of a mysterious (and if the rumors are true, dangerous) group of lovers that change her life for better and for worse.
basically like my mafia!eddie verse, this will be headcanons and short fics instead of multi-chapter works! this is open for requests, my ask is open if you'd like to see something in this verse <3
MINORS DNI OR I'M SNITCHING ON YOU TO YOUR MOM
Masterlist
Who falls first?
What lengths will the fruity four go to get reader?
How did the fruity four get reader?
In this universe did the events of Hawkins happen to them?
List of âunrequited love but turns out!! itâs actually requitedâ prompts
âWhat, did you think I kissed you all these times because I was doing it for the shits and giggles?â ââŚLetâs be real, you did have a lot of fun shoving your tongue down my throat in public.â
âOh my God, why are you crying? Does me liking you disgust you that much?â âNo, you dumbass, itâs because you like me back but I spent all of this time thinking youâd never like me that way!â
âLook, we can pretend I never confessed if it means youâll stayââ âWhat?! No! You canât just take back your confession! Thatâs such a coward move and Iâll not allow that! Especially when I feel the same way towards you.âÂ
âIâll get over you. I promise. These feelings, theyâreâ theyâre only temporary, I swear. IâIâll get over you. Just please donât leave meââ âDid you ever think, that maybe, I donât want you getting over me? What if I donât want these feelings to be only temporary? That maybe I⌠Like you, too?â
âI didnât mean to fall for you.â âAnd neither did I.â ââŚFucking pardon?âÂ
âSo according to _____, youâre in love with me, too?â âOh, that fucking bastâ wait, did you just say too?âÂ
âYou need to stop kissing me like you mean it; Iâm going to read into things wrong and end up breaking my own heart.â âThatâs because I do mean it every single time. Youâve just been too dense to realise.âÂ
âWhy are you apologising for liking me back?â âBecause I donât want to ruinâ wait a second. Pause and rewind, what did you just say?âÂ
âYou donât have to like me back, you know? I just wanted to let you know how I felt, thatâs all.â âWell, too bad! Because these feelings are mutual, and now you canât get rid of me.â
âWhy are you lying to me? You can tell me the truth, itâs okay. Iâm strong enough for the truth, I swear.â âWhat? Iâm not lying to you! Youâd think youâd pick up on the signs that Iâve been in love with you, for fucking forever, but apparently someoneâs too obtuse to realise that!âÂ
They don't smile/laugh often, but when they finally do, you feel your heart skip a beat
Waking up and finding yourself snuggled up with them on the couch, when it dawns upon you that maybe you do love them
They're doing something stupid, and somehow, you find yourself thinking that this is the person you want to spend the rest of your life with
They're going to go away soon. You're going through some of your old memories together, which is when the realization hits you (and you don't have much time left)
You find yourself unable to look away after seeing them in a fancy dress/suit for the first time
Reuniting after being separated for a while, realizing how much you missed their presence
Thinking about how they have all the qualities you'd like in a partner
While pretending to be in a relationship with them, you realize how much you wish it was real
Being worried that these new feelings might ruin their friendship
"I think... I'm in love with (Name)" || "Congrats on being the last one to find out"
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Though heirs would strengthen his position and claim in the war, Aegon didnât want you with child until the violence was over. He already worried about you enough, the last thing he needed was a baby to stress about too. The thought of you going through childbirth while he wasn't there to be by your side made him anxious, not to mention how dangerous it was.
Sometimes, after sex, he'd see you rubbing your belly out of the corner of his eye while he made you moon tea. The sweet drink had become a regular part of your daily diet. Most people have had moon tea once or never in their lives, yet you had it almost nightly. You were concerned for when you and Aegon would eventually start trying for children. What if the tea had long-term side effects that no one knew about?
"Soon enough, my queen, the war is almost over. Before you know it, your belly will be round with our child," Aegon would always reassure you.
Aegon desperately wanted you to be with child, and you both knew it. When he found out the war was officially won, he ran through the entire castle to find you. You were the person who meant the most to him, and he wanted to see the look on your face when you found out. This was just as much your victory as it was his. He couldn't have held on this long without your constant reassurance and loyalty. Thankfully, you were already in your chambers getting undressed for bed, it was time to celebrate.
You were so scared when you saw Aegon burst through the door looking like a crazed man.
"We won," he whispered breathlessly, staring at you like you were the only thing in the world.
You felt lightheaded, you had been waiting for this day for so long, yet you were so shocked. Aegon closed the latch on the door and started making his way toward you. The swagger in his walk and the smirk on his face immediately let you know neither of you would be getting any sleep tonight.
He took your face in his hands and started kissing you. There was a passion in it that you had never sensed before. You had never known him before the war, and you had never witnessed him this relieved and happy. You returned the kiss with just as much energy and enthusiasm, hoping this version of Aegon was here to stay. He threw off your robe and ripped off your nightdress.
"I'm going to put a baby in your womb tonight if it's the last thing I ever do. You won't be leaving this room until you are with child."
"Yes, my king."
Aegon never cared for you calling him king, but it turned him on when you were like this, naked and vulnerable. It made him feel powerful. He felt on top of the world tonight. He moved your hands while you were unlacing his pants, and he hurriedly undid them himself. Aegon needed to be in you right now and didn't have the patience to wait any longer.
Aegon pushed you in the direction of the bed, and you both got on it, frantically pulling back the sheets and throwing off all of the decorative pillows. He'd have you in every position tonight and needed the bed cleared for his workspace. Aegon was finishing throwing the last pillow off the bed when he gave you the biggest smile. He saw you on your knees, looking up at him, ready for all of his commands.
"There'll be no celebratory cocksucking tonight, I'm saving all my seed for your womb," Aegon told you, as he pressed down on your shoulder, motioning for you to lay down.
"How do you want me?" you asked, wanting to do whatever you could to please him. This was a special night, and you wanted him to be as happy as possible.
"Just lay there and be a good girl," he ordered. His pupils were dilated so wide his eyes almost looked black. You had never seen him this aroused before. The hold you had over Aegon was strong, but it never ceased to amaze you how obsessed he was with you.
You did as he commanded and laid there, opening your legs up for him.
"Gods, you're always so wet." He reached out and started rubbing his fingers up and down your slit.
"Only for you," you managed to get out, shivering from his touch.
Aegon grinned as he grabbed your thighs, opening you up more. He put one over his shoulder to get more comfortable. Kisses peppered your inner thigh all the way to your cunt. He was being gentle now, but you knew it was only a matter of time before he broke. Aegon had been waiting for this day for years, and you knew this night wouldn't be soft and slow for long.
He rubbed his face in your folds and inhaled your scent. Aegon relished the fact that this would be his new normal. No more being stuck in small council meetings all day, the only place he'd be now was between your thighs. He was just about to place his tongue on you when a banging on the door started.
Aegon got up, naked as the day he was born, and furiously marched to the door as you scrambled to get under the sheets.
He swung the door open, "I swear to every fucking god that another enemy I don't know about better have died."
The guard at the door stammered, never seeing Aegon this mad, "No one has died your grace. Your mother wishes for your presence, she would like to congratulate you on your victory."
"And I wish for my cock to be inside my wife. Fuck off," Aegon said as he slammed the door in the guard's face.
"My apologies, your grâ" was the last thing you heard before Aegon threw the lock back in place.
Aegon prowled back to the bed as you blushed, looking at you like you were his prey and next meal, which you were.
"I'll have him stripped of his cloak in the morning for trying to keep me away from you," he said as he descended his mouth onto you. You were about to make a comment saying it wasn't the guard's fault, but the last thing you wanted him to do was take his tongue off you to reply, so you kept your thoughts to yourself. Aegon devoured you like your juices filled the fountain of life. You didn't care about all the women he had been with before you. Thanks to them, you get to have your cunt expertly eaten and fucked every night. He dragged himself away from you, he needed to remember what his goal was tonight.
Aegon left a trail of sloppy, wet kisses from your clit to your mouth as he positioned his cock between your legs. He grabbed it and rubbed it up and down your slit, collecting your come to coat himself with. His face was so close to yours that you could feel his hot breath.
"There will be no moon tea tonight, wife."
You were both in a fiery, lust-filled daze, but you couldn't help but let out a little giggle. Being a mother was something you had always dreamed of, and it was finally going to happen. Aegon's passionate spell broke for a second as he gave you a gentle kiss on the forehead, and then his focus was back in place. He was going to do everything in his power to give you what you wanted.
As the head of his cock entered you, he let out a deep groan. He savored the feeling of you wrapped around him as he sank further into you. He always stretched you out the perfect amount. No matter how many times you laid with him, it always hurt a little, but you had grown to love that burn, and without fail it instantly turned to pleasure.
Aegon wasted no time setting a savage pace. You needed this just as much as he did, and you welcomed it. His pounding somehow always felt calculated to the exact intensity that you craved. You never needed to tell him faster or harder, he and you were one mind during sex, there was no need to verbally communicate. Though no words were needed, neither of you could live without the praise of the other.
"You'll never have any idea how good it feels being inside of you, you're perfect," Aegon tells you. He takes one of your nipples into his mouth as he continues his thrusts. You wrap your arms around Aegon's waist, needing to hold onto something sturdy. Time didn't exist in your chambers, the two of you could be having sex for hours, and it never felt long enough. You hated the emptiness of him not being inside of you. His curses and your moans echoed off the walls.
"I'm so close, Aegon, I need you," you cry.
His thrusts remained strong but began to falter, and you could tell he was right there with you. You took his mouth off of your breast and began kissing him. He broke the kiss and put his forehead against yours. You stared at each other, both of your eyes filled with years of passion and longing for this moment. Your orgasms crashed into the two of you at the same time, you had never longed to feel his seed more in your life. He stilled, flooding you with life.
Sometimes Aegon would keep his cock in you, and youâd fall asleep like that, joined together. Your warmth lulled him to sleep while he sucked on your breasts. This wasnât one of those nights. After you relaxed around him, he pulled out of you, being careful not to let too much of his seed escape. He quickly put two fingers inside of you to keep it from spilling out. Aegon moved down your body until his face was back in its earlier position in front of your entrance.
"I'm not done with you yet, take some time to breathe," Aegon said as he bent down to start lapping at your clit. He kept his fingers firmly in you while he used his tongue to clean up his mess around it. His fingers moved in and out of you, wanting to make sure his seed covered every inch of your walls. He loved the taste of your come mixed with his and wished he could lick all of it. As much as he enjoyed watching his come spill out of you, he enjoyed the thought of you being with child more and had to push his other desires to the back of his mind.
You're not sure how Aegon thought you'd be able to manage to relax and catch your breath while he was sucking on your clit like it was a little treat. He was a master with his fingers, it was almost embarrassing how fast he was able to make you come whenever he went down on you.
"Are you going to be a good girl and come for me again?"
He knew calling you that was one of your weaknesses. Aegon was a talented multitasker during sex, pleasuring you with his tongue and fingers while using his other hand to pump himself. You started grinding yourself on his face and he let you. He loved being covered in your scent. When he felt you were about to orgasm again, he quickly got up, thrust his cock back into you, and began pounding again. There was no going slow and waiting for you to readjust to his size.
"Gods you're so tight. You want me to put a baby in you? Is that what you want?" Aegon asked, as he fucked you deeper than ever before.
"Yes, yes, that's what I want. Please, Aegon. I want you, I want everything," you whimper.
"Youâll walk around with a swollen belly, and I'll make sure every man in Westeros knows you're mine."
The pleasure from that familiar burn was starting to build, and you didn't know how much longer you'd be able to hold on. His thrusts were fast and powerful, he was leaving no room for error. You would be with child by the end of the night. You could feel your body tensing around him, your nails digging into his back was the final act to push him over the edge. The two of you came again, and this time he stayed in you, letting you milk his cock and bring his seed further into you.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, keeping him inside of you. He laid there with his full weight on top of you for a little while, exhausted. You loved it when he did that, his body hot from sex and his musk surrounding you, you felt safe. It was as if you were being shielded from the outside world, and you could focus on nothing but him. Being suffocated by his body would be a glorious death.
Aegon loved the feeling of your breasts pushed up against his chest, how soft and comforting they were. He couldn't wait until they grew heavy with milk, his child would be very lucky. Knowing he wouldnât be able to lay on you like this anymore once you were with child was a little disappointing, but he was sure he'd think of alternatives. He imagined you on top of him while he did all the work fucking himself up into you. After you were done, heâd carefully move you so you were side by side, front to back, and he would wrap his arm around you and rub your belly. He heard some women go mad during pregnancy and need to be pleasured multiple times a day, he hoped youâd be one of them.
"I never wanted to be king or sit on the throne. The only thing I have ever desired is you. I wanted this war won for you and our baby, I love you more than anything, I hope you know that."
i just find it so weird that some of yâall have a big platform and continue to just ignore these serious ass issues. i get that politics isnât for everyone. and that maybe you donât wanna âtalkâ about it. but as a black person, itâs shoved in my face everyday. and in every other black personâs face.
we have no choice but to talk about it. so i just find it real weird that yâall just ignore these issues because they make you feel some type of way.
black people âfeel some type of wayâ every day. we canât escape this shit. so grow a pair and get your head out of your ass. it takes one simple reblog, and yâall still canât do that. imagine.
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not to be all sympathetic on main for sukuna but if I were woken up from my 1000 year old slumber in the body of a 15yo himbo and then immediately beaten into a pulp by his twink of a teacher, leaving my only form of entertainment being his teenage angst, this would have been my villain origin story