#aunt!reader

“Severus.” You gasped, drawing out his name like it was an oath to keep. Your nails dug into his back, as the tall boy rocked forward, shoving your body back. Your head fell against the headboard, your plunge softened by the pillows he meticulously placed for you.

It wasn't the first time, his behaviors became second nature. The way his teeth sunk into your neck, his hands hooked on your shoulders, and his hips rutted into yours in a steady pace. It was familiar, it was comfort and guilt, greed and endless generosity. The way his arms secured you against him made your heart race.

It was a twisted web of love and heartbreak you threw yourself into and he fell victim to his own heart's betrayal, you owned him like no other.

Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes, no matter how many times Severus made you his own, the intrusion was always more than you could start with. It always began the same, his rough hands and commanding presence. Pushing you down to make way for himself. So much desperation and need, from his lips to your hot skin, from his wandering tongue to the space he made holy with worship between your legs. You had gathered this much; you were his atonement.

You went from the stresses of essays and expectations of outstandings’ to the question of each meeting being your last. He held you like it would be, he touched you like it would be, he snapped his hips into yours like it would be.

It didn't help that your meetings had become few and far between. Since you two started this scandalous affair at Hogwarts, it was hard to continue meeting. The war, the war your both danced along opposing sides of, kept you both far more busy than you would have liked. Tonight only being made possible by some agreement you took with Peter. He would check on your brother and his family tonight, ensuring they were safe, while you made true on your plan to rendezvous with Snape.

He muttered your name against your neck like a Hymn. His deep and stuttering drawl accompanied by his soft groans and gasps as he reached his high.

You were close behind, bending your knees to lock your ankles behind his back. Taking as much as you could, head thrown back once again, with enough force to arch your back.

“S-Severus!” You gasped out and he slowly sat up, watching the place your bodies connected with a sound you swore you've only heard animals make.

“Potter…” He panted and pressed his thumb against your hips, hard. The skin turned a tender color, as your moans drove him over the edge. He kissed you, deep and slow, swallowing any sounds you made as you met him at your end.

You both laid there in each other's arms. You were lightheaded, relaxing perfectly into the bed as he covered you. These moments were your favorite of the night. Where he held you, muttered sweet things he would never say outside of the bedroom, and waited for either a second wind or to get ready to go home.

As if to prove you wrong, he pulled out of you. You winced, only slightly, as your body was accustomed to the way you two usually have each other. You gave a low whine and tried to reach for him, he ignored you with a grimace and got to his feet, getting dressed.

“...Severus? Can’t you stay a moment longer?” You called out to him and he shook his head. Once he donned his cloak there was no amount of convincing you could do. You watched as he sat down at the edge of your bed. You inched closer, wrapping your arms around him from behind and kissing the nape of his neck.

“When?” You whispered softly. The question was so routine he didn't ask for context. When can I hold you again? Have you? When can I love you again? He rubbed his face, still slick with sweat but he still refused to stay a moment longer, even to clean himself. He didn't deserve that.

“I will letter you.” He muttered and you nodded. That was enough. Maybe he had it harder than usual this time, maybe something was haunting him that tonight just couldn't help him forget. You sighed and moved to kiss his lips but he shied away.

That stung.

“I am sorry, {Y/N}.” He whispered and you narrowed your eyes.

“Whatever for?” You hushed back. Your attention, suddenly, was caught by a shining light in the window. You hummed out, it was a Phoenix patronus. So much for a good night's rest.

Snape stood to his feet at the sight of it, grabbing his wand from the night stand and snapping around, apparating mere moments before Dumbledore’s patronus entered your chambers.

You stood up and began to get dressed, assuming it to be an emergency meeting of some kind. Then, his voice rang out in your room.

“October 31st, 1981.” It spoke like a letter. You knew what that format meant. You snapped around to look at the bird, eyes wide and shoulders slack.

“No..” You whispered.

“Peter Pettigrew, James Potter, and Lily Potter have fallen. Sirius Black had been apprehended as the main suspect in their murders.” You felt your world crashing over you. A million questions ran through your mind as you raised your hands and put pressure on your throat. You couldn't breathe. “Harry Potter has been taken to his maternal next of kin. Voldemort has been MIA. We are calling all arms.”

You were suddenly jostled awake by the sound of the front door slamming open. Now, in the fourteen years you had lived at 5 Privet Drive, you have never experienced such a jarring feeling of dread. It only worsened when you heard Harry's heavy breathing and the shuffling of feet at the doorway.

You jolted up and began to wrap yourself up in your robe. You pushed the intruding memories away, setting aside your guilt and growing sober at the reminder that you were home, the events had long since passed.

Rushing downstairs, you stared down at your frazzled and shocked nephew, the very boy you had told to not go outside on his own.

“Harry.” You snapped at him in a stern tone, but when his glossy eyes met yours, you broke. Hurrying down the last of the stairs to gather him up in your arms. He gripped your robe and let out a shaky breath, sniffling a bit. Clearly, he was still in shock, as his body shuttered against yours.

Eventually, an hour or so later, you had managed to calm him down and he told you what happened. With the Dursley boy, the dementor attack, how Ms. Figg came to their help. How the kind older lady had just dropped him off across the street and he came straight home when he knew Dudley was okay.

You stayed up with him for the majority of the night, eventually, he fell asleep on the couch as you cleaned up the chocolate and the tea you had made for you two. Ever since last year, with Voldemort's return, you had instructed him not to go anywhere, say anything to anyone, or be alone at any point. You didn't want to stress him, but the idea that the ministry might be under Voldemort’s heel was something that persisted since the first wizarding war.

However, no amount of sheltering or protection could have prepared either of you for Umbrige’s letter. The absolute defeat in his eyes was rattling. You wanted him to return to school desperately, but you also wanted nothing more than to hide him away. You never had a problem you couldn't fix for Harry, but since Hogwarts, he seemed to be getting to places you couldn't reach. You had hope when Dumbledore wrote to tell you both to stay put.

The days were long and Harry grew more and more withdrawn into himself as they passed. You tried to extend an olive branch to him, but he would turn in on himself more and more, doing his best to appease you.

Today was no different, your idle chatter and questions were met with hollowed eyes and quiet responses. It was like he couldn't possibly understand what was happening around him. Then, there was a firm knock on the door. You both glanced at each other from across the dining room table.

You sat up and crossed the room into the hall. There was another set of heavy knocks that made you jump a bit. When you leaned forward to glance out the peephole you were greeted with the ugliest face you've ever seen.

A face you missed dearly.

You threw the door open and smiled at him, Alastor Moody gave you his typical sneer, before gesturing out his hand. “What are you, some kind of stranger? Get in here!” He spat like an order and you smiled somber, hugging him. Harry slowly peaked his head out of the kitchen and watched with a furrowed brow.

“Is that how you greet your old professor, boy?” Moody tutted sarcastically and you pulled back, pulling softly on the promise ring on your fingers. Harry let his lip twitch into a slight smile.

“What are you here for?” You whispered and he waved his hand at your nervous teenager.

“Who else?”

~~~

The second you got to 12 Grimmauld Place, Harry seemed to be in another world. Walking through the door you were greeted by Molly, who insisted Harry bring you and his bags upstairs. You were going to fight it at first, before you noticed what was happening. The voices filling the halls from the room in front of you, the familiar faces.

You realized what this was; a call to arms. The room that was once the kitchen had been filled with past order members, even Harry seemed to notice. Though, you wondered if it was more how he noticed Sirius and Remus through the crack of the door.

You debated with yourself, if you should allow Harry to come into the first meeting. It felt like an important thing for him to witness, but he was stressed, he had been put in an unfair position, and for once, you just wanted him to be able to be safe and rest.

You looked over to Harry as Molly stood with her hands on her hips. He looked a bit hopeful you would fight for him to be able to be there, but he seemed to frown a bit when you didn't exactly show that was your plan.

“Harry, why don't you get some sleep? It's been a long few weeks, I'm sure you've missed your friends.” You mused as you gestured up the stairs to where Hermione and Ron were staring down at you two with bright smiles. He seemed to smile even brighter than them, before you leaned down to whisper. “I'll give you the rundown tomorrow.” You hummed and he gave you a nod before grabbing his things, motioning to grab yours before a voice spoke up to cut in.

“Please, I'll get it. Sirius cleared out a room for you.” You looked up and were met with Remus’s hazel eyes. You couldn't help but let a familiar warmth grow in your chest at the sight of him, he had always been a bit doting on you, much like all your brothers friends.

“It's good to see you, Remus.” You hummed and leaned over to kiss his cheek. He pulled you into a side hug and chuckled.

“Letters just aren't enough sometimes, don't you agree?” He spoke against your temple and let a small kiss against your hairline.

“Not at all. Tea? Tomorrow?” You offered and he nodded.

“Of course. Go ahead, everyone is waiting to begin.” He insisted and he put a hand on Harry's back, leading him up the stairs by his side, where Harry was instantly swarmed by his friends.

You watched them disappear before your pleasant thoughts were cut off by Molly’s shrill voice. You quickly corrected your judgmental thoughts, that was unfair, she had done so much for Harry.

“You really shouldn't tell that boy about these things. He's so young.” She insisted and you shook your head, your face falling still.

“If he is old enough to carry a wizard’s responsibilities he is old enough to know of them.” You sighed and Molly shook her head with a huff. Clearly displeased with your response, but not fighting you on it. Harry was your ward. She needed to acknowledge that at some point, especially since she seemed to think you were a child still.

She eventually relented with trying to get her mom look to work. Ha, old lady, you perfected your own look raising a little Potter.

You finally made your way around her and into the meeting room. You were instantly greeted by Sirius, who lit up and hurried from across the room to engulf you in a hug. You gave a laugh, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he practically spun you around the room. You allowed yourself to feel the budding joy at being reunited with your childhood friends.

Sirius chuckled and you even let out a few giggles, your legs bending to curl into the position a bit. He set you down after a few moments, fixing your outfit before your hair next, making you smirk. “Sirius.” You teased with an arched brow and he held his hands up as if to show he was done.

They soon found his hips and he looked down at you with a goofy smirk. “Look at you, when did you get so old, Niffler?”

“Same time you did, what's with the beard. What was it you said? Facial hair is so…square?” You hummed and he laughed.

“Oh, you date me so.” He sighed dramatically and you crossed your arms.

“Sorry, Black, but you've done that yourself. Even wearing proper robes?” You continued to pick at him and he grabbed your hand before you could touch his vest.

“Oh don't start, grandma pants.” He pushed and you gave a fake horrified gasp.

“Oh you absolute brute!”

Suddenly, there was a throat cleared from across the room. You hadn't noticed the room went quiet at your arrival. Not a pleasant feeling. Sirius turned and glared at the voice’s owner. You peaked around him and your eyes locked with none other then Severus Snape.

Your shoulders fell and suddenly, all the progress you had made was gone. Everything you had done, every bit of work you made on yourself to try not to think of him was nothing in comparison to his eyes on yours. That night, that night you learned he had asked you to be with him, in your own bed came flooding back.

The time you thought he wanted you just as much as you wanted him, he had been pulling you away from the little family you had left. He was prepared to see James, Lily, and your Harry killed, if it meant he still had you. You knew your own faults in it, how you abandoned your family to meet him, leaving them to the very man who would lead to the downfall of everyone you held dear, but your anger wasn't for one person alone.

The two people you hated most were in this room, and they were staring at each other's eyes. Severus, like he was looking for an answer to a question he should already know the answer to. And you.

Looking at him like he was what little scum was left in the world, burning a black hole into the seat as dark as his dress robes. You had been childish and ignorant to believe you could have him while fighting a war against him. That would always be your biggest regret. How Lily looked at you when she found out, refusing to allow you to be their secret keeper without a word of reason to your brother.

The words Dumbledore said to you when you first attempted to take Harry.

“What will you do with him, Potter? While you are still seeing Severus?” He looked at you with such kind and patient eyes as he tore you apart. “Perhaps, you were too young for all of this.”

As if the rest of you weren't.

It was like the years of avoidance brought more anger than you ever thought you could harbor.

When Severus stood from his chair and tried to cross the room to you, Sirius narrowed his eyes and went to grab your waist to pull you closer, but he was shocked to see you cross the room towards him.

Once you and Severus were a meager foot away from each other, he spoke first. “{Y/N}..” He whispered, but before he could speak further, you raised your hand and struck him across the face.

He didn't flinch, he didn't stumble, he held what little composure he had left and looked away from you. His dark hair covering his eyes and his reddening cheek. Sirius gave a delighted scoff, shocked that someone had the balls to do it. You turned sharply on your heels and started down Albus at the head of the table.

People began to whisper, some even snickered, and you held eye contact with the headmaster and he gave you a sympathetic look. You tried your best not to look more bitter than you already were. He eventually gestured for you to sit and you took the seat next to Sirius. Everyone seemed to fall quiet, before the door opened and Remus walked in. Severus was quick to take his seat.

Puffs of speckled clouds tangled in the air, pushed from its relaxing momentum before it was pulled into a screeching halt. Then, the feeling of being held-up vanished, evaporated into the strings of the force, urging the particles to rest with the layers of lodging. Despite the expected weather recurring on the same month, every year, it was a lot to adjust to. Especially if the victims of the merciless temperature had pushed down their walls to the frigid bites of winter to enjoy their time bathing under the warm sun. Every time they had put down their guards, they were always caught abruptly. Somehow. 

Neck craning side to side, she couldn’t help but feel her energy drain. All to blame fear of being watched or followed. Even though she had tried her hardest to slumber, get a good night rest, the upcoming day- the big day had lingered in her head all night. There was no point in even trying to close her eyes. Her restless thoughts kept her up all night, playing possible scenarios, and very much, impossible ones. It was the impossible ones that kept her eye-straining from shutting the scene. 

The fear of the black curtain closing her peripheral had crept upon her shoulders in a languid pace of fingers grazing upon the lowest key on a grand piano. It was only right for her to fear what clambered and clawed in the shadow. The absence of light, very much like that of her life, had only allowed the inhabitants of whatever lurked in the darkness to recognize their own power. Eleven years of shuddering away from whatever ray that would bring her into any possible attentions. Eleven years of avoiding the walls of a prison that would only drive her crazy. Surviving, she called it. However, a stubborn belief in her heart knew. She knew it was not survival. It was being a coward. Y/N was a coward. 

The gale of the winter air pierced into her skin, numbing any possible sensor for her to even feel a slight breeze. There wasn’t any point in blowing warm air into her covered palms as the exasperated puff was then soon carried into the wind, a hostage to be forever held. The erected splints of wood made room in her skin, the worn-out embellishment of the doorbell causing more harm than doing its job, its peeking head had caused freckles of blood bubbles to bop into the air. There was not a slight sensation. Not a single twinge of pain. Yet, the sight had been the reason for her wince. A muffled ring echoed through the tranquil house. 

The wince diminished out of her lips as the pain evaporated into wisps of smoke, dancing into the targeted direction of the breezy air. Although flakes of snow littered the road- more like thick layers of sponge cakes patted onto the ground, the balled up imaginations she had held on for years and years had been the spark to the bonfire that raged in her head. Clearing her throat, she interlaced her gloved fingers behind her back- the soft caress of the picked out strings of cotton (a habit that annoyingly made place in her life ever since she was a child) hugged her fingers.

Breezing of the frigid early morning air whispered onto her exposed skin as if it was trying to calm the roaring of heat in her. The drifting in the air had noticed the presence of those who dared to walk in the dark shadows of the early morning. Thoughts clawed into her headspace. A tightening wrapped around her chest like a present with a decent bow, ready to unveil her past that she would not be able to wipe. Forget the obliviate spell. No matter how hard she would wipe over the tainted plot of her past, there would always be a mark left behind. An indication to remind her, even when she would be clueless, that she had sided with the wrong side. And nothing can be done about that. Y/N could beg forgiveness as much as she wants, the results only depended on those who were willing to accept her with open arms. That was a miracle she would not only have to hope for but a miracle she would have to make happen. 

Doubts settled into her skin, but before she had the chance to whisk away, cowering from a day that would come, either way, warm glow of the dim house (something very usual considering she had knocked on their door at three in the morning) cast upon her. There was something about the light that had quivered something in her. The light she was so familiar with growing up in the walls of a house that had thoughtful figures. People who had shoulders for one another. The same light she had walked away from. It was light that could only glow in a loving family. So, why had she left such an opportunity without looking back? 

The lingering heat from what she would assume was a fireplace, glazed her skin in a thin coat. Dim lights of the overhanging light shining rays of light from her back pierced onto the owner of the house’s back; the lack of light shadowed her visage. With her sleeping cap still on, she stared at the unexpected guest with droopy eyes- confusion lacing her thoughts. There had been growing anger for the disturbance of her goodnight’s sleep. However, it all diminished into an abyss when there was nothing but confusion. It was clear that the muggle forgot who she was. 

Sure, Y/N could’ve done better with polishing up her appearance. But with the night issue and cowering in the shadows, there was only little she could do. Petunia stared at the stranger who looked no different from that of a beggar who went from door to door. No matter how hard Y/N had tried to tame the frizz in her hair, the bustling street she had crawled through had been a reason to her... electrifying look. 

The corner of Petunia’s lips curled down into a frown, lost in contemplation if she should worry at her terrible mistake of opening the door. Although, there had been a creeping thought of not sending her snoring husband to open the door. Staring at the visitor with furrowed eyebrows, the muggle tried her hardest to scramble around the incoherent thoughts. Who could blame her? The woman had just been yanked out of her well-deserved slumber.

Petunia’s head strained with a bang at the absence of the ability to figure out who it was, her index fingers scurrying in hurry to pinpoint the familiar feature. The complexion that was so familiar, it had embedded itself in her late sister’s life. It was roughly a decade and a half of her interacting with anyone she actually had any relations with; despite the need and the urge of falling back into her parent’s arms, Y/N knew she didn’t deserve anything. Anything for her to replay her youth, more specifically- the year 1979. With the decade and a half, there was not much that had changed about her appearance. Well, besides the… mad touch.

Tall-standing lampposts illuminated dim lights with soft buzzing, it lights the empty street; only in small radius as the rest drowned in hues of darkness. Silence crept on their shoulders, its wicked smile sending each other’s mischievous grin. The muggle and the witch both stood in front of each other with no words uttered out of their mouths. While one side had been trying her hardest to run through her memory of the face, the other had been panicking of a conversation. That was all Y/N had hoped, anyway. A conversation would be a good base to start. Even though she had not passed a night because of the meeting, Y/N couldn’t help but fall onto her knees in agony at her forgetting to make a speech. So there she was, in front of her sister-in-law who did not know who the abrupt guest was, head attempting to construct a decent line. 

“Good… early morning, I suppose,” Y/N let out a feigned giggle, hoping it would ease the prominent tension between the two women. The giggle that would urge the victim to fall upon her charms, which had not only worked (as her young days experimenting in hopes of getting out of the trouble she would always find herself stuck in) on her brother’s close mate. Sirius Black. Petunia sent a faint smile back, although, it was rather a quirk of the corner of her lips really. 

The ambience of the air threw a lasso around her throat, inching the diameter to suffocate the hollow column. The morning might’ve been early, it did not guarantee the absence of possible roaming figures. The soft crunching of the incredibly early passers-bys echoed into the street, their feet plunging down into the pile of snow. Yet, the attention of the owner of the house did not waver a bit from the figure. She still had yet to put her fingers on. There was something about the guest that had been so familiar, so familiar. Where have I seen her?

“Quite an early morning,” The mother let out a laugh full of icebreakers as if she was trying to diffuse the tension between them, the frigid air started to creep up on her nerves. It was a mistake for putting on a thin robe. “I’m sorry, do I… know you?” Though Petunia was sure she had stumbled upon the woman at least once in her life, she didn’t mention anything.

“Oh, right. I’m sorry for the unexpected visit. But, I’m Y/N. Y/N Potter.” It had indeed been a long time since she had said the name since the letters would only bring unwanted attention. The same attention that had been rushing through leaves of jungles for her. For a traitor. The war traitor. While realization languidly slapped against Petunia’s cheek in surges of agonizing prickling of the sudden connection of dots, a small smile crept upon the witch’s face. 

No mercy was wasted onto the soul who had finally realized the danger the guest would bring upon her family. Petunias’ lips quivered, not only the muscles on her face but her entire body. Everything trembled, her hands shaking tremendously as if she had received the worst news in her life. Petunia’s reflexes were agile, her lips parted to screech the loudest yell, not a scratch in her had cared if she had woken up alarming neighbours, fingers curled around the handle. She was more than ready to slam the door, and to shut it on the very much not welcomed guest. There might not even be a chance for her to run for her husband as the priority is to flee from the address. The Potter knew of their house address- but how? 

The fight or flight mode in the muggle switched on, although, it was prominently leaning against the flight mode. It was not embarrassing. It was smart. Harry’s other aunt was a witch, magic flowing in her blood, the very essence to possible destruction, or worse… death. And that was what Petunia feared. Death by her sister-in-law. Well, death in general. 

The muggle never got to the flight part or the slamming of the door on her sister-in-law’s face. With a flick of her wrist, and a mumbled spell under her breath, the routine almost pressed into a habit; the mother’s face froze, all her expressions halted as soon as the glow of the spell hit square on her chest. Petunia tumbled backwards, splatting onto the ground, the most vulnerable state for the witch to claim her soul. 

“Ouch, sorry about that.” Y/N winced out, imagining it was her who had been pushed to meet the ground. The aunt of the little boy who ungratefully lived under their roof gazed upon the fallen sight with her lips pressed, satisfied at the silence- apart from the thudding against the ground. Eyes trained onto the stick that looked harmless to those with no context of the creatures who camouflaged in their society and community, Petunia’s eyes crossed in shock. The wooden stick was not just a chopped-up part of a tree for magic gushed out of the weapon. No matter the sharpness of a glinting blade or a sword that had pierced through countless bodies, those weapons held nothing against the wand. While the blade or sword would be capable of murdering with an ardent arm, the wand possessed the power of doing the same in a more efficient way. 

“I really did not want to do this… but I need to meet my nephew.” The words brushed her lips in an almost taunting way of honey. Need. Was it truly something she needed? Y/N had never met her nephew, the reason? All to be pointed towards her misled youth. No, the witch couldn’t place all the problem as if she had no voice to oppose. She had all the chances in the world. However, Y/N could only blame the manipulation and lies that had trickled into her ears by the Dark Lord, himself. Without a doubt, getting the mark the same time as Regulus, a friend she had deeply cared for like a little brother despite the small age difference, on the lines of the sixth year, had been the biggest regret of her life. The reason she had cowered away from her brother to find comfort in other circles. Circles that would bring up alarming flags, all because of their beliefs and family reputation. 

Once last glance upon the figure and the closing of the door to prevent the chilly air to occupy the house, Y/N took in the warm sight. If one was to step in the house, they would be too obvious to the house that possessed some items and little quirks other families wouldn’t have. There was a lot of patent love between each member. The witch pressed her lips at the feeling she had not drowned in for so long. Too long for her liking. 

Soft bubbles of wheat-filled the air, bowls and cooking utensils all thrown into the sink, all piled up into a clambering mountain. Inches of the ceramic leaned over nothing but air, nearing to the end of their existence if it was not for the utensils that had to endure the weight. 

Holding a loaf of bread was the immense plate with a plastic dome, covering the preciously made food. The exposed flesh displayed the carved out spheres, showing off the bubbles; a rip of the glistening bread tears away like a piece of paper to create a makeshift cliff with a steep end. A smile crept to her lips at the abrupt reoccurrence of her childhood; oh, Harry would be a replica of James without a doubt. Except, there was a blanketed possibility that it was not her wanted nephew, but another.

Running her fingers over the clean mantle, her eyebrows quirked up at the flawless coat on her pads. It seemed as if it had been recently dusted as there was no present nor a visible speck of unwanted substance even though Y/N wasn’t one to clean the house in regular errands. There was nothing wrong with being pleasant and satisfied with a clean sight. A hum of approval resounded off her muffled lips. 

Picking up a framed picture, her eyes glazed over the figures in the photo. Not a single one had the same complexion of a Potter. Even if she not been scanning for Potter genes, Y/N had her magical ways in obtaining her information. One way or another. The absence of the only person she wanted to see caused her to place the frame back in its original place. Twirling around to take a quick scan of the room, her lips curled down in confusion, eyebrows furrowing, her eyes batted to make sure her sight wasn’t deceiving her. The grip on her wand tightened. Her eyes shot beams of anger onto the large, prominent framed photos of her other nephew. Sure, she might be jumping to the bullets with no hesitation- she had the rights to. Although she came to pass by the acquainting her sister-in-law’s attitude and personality, this was something else.

With clenched jaws, her narrowed eyes grazed upon the stairs leading to the second floor. A muffled yell whispered from the door. But Y/N made no concern to even throw a quick glance, head full of poured rage. Not bothering at the boisterous creaking of cries from the stairs, overlapped by the muffled pleads from her sister-in-law, Y/N made way to the second floor.

Even though the house exuded friendliness and care, something had been off about the upper floor. Maybe it was the blotch of disgusting food that stained the carpeted ground, or it was the only door of the house with an incessant amount of locks. Flicking her wrist in an ardent swish, the witch pondered if there was something wild, something untameable lingering behind the door. The only reason she had clenched around her wand, ready to eradicate the threat. However, they’re only muggles- muggles who were trying to hide the fact that they had a wizard under their roof. So, what could’ve possibly held a threat against the witch? Nothing she couldn’t deal with. In the lines of her youth, she had dealt with unimaginable species. What muggle creature would still stand after the countless spells she had learnt while lurking on the wrong side?

It was no muggle creature. It was her nephew, caged like a wild animal. 

“Harry Potter.” The name fell off her lips in a breeze of the wind. The last word prodding a blade through her gut. He had looked so much like James, eyes just like Lily’s. Like an animal, the innocent boy had been stranded in his room, useless metals holding the only entrance and exit shut. Apart from the window, which had conveniently been barred. 

Fingers twitching on his wooden stick, Harry’s lips wavered at the sudden appearance of a woman. A stranger. The light clicking of the locks opening while a blanket of darkness still dusted over the sky had pulled the twelve-year-old boy from his slumber. The iconic glasses perched on his nose had not matched with the dishevelled locks of the young boy, “Who are you?”

Even though he was determined on defending himself as a wizard, the boy had to admit to himself that the only counter he had to fight so far was the unforgettable situation with the troll in the privy. Although, it was a spell that wouldn’t save him in the cowering situation. The witch’s hand faltered at the unexpected sight, lips parted. What does she say? Where does she start? Why she hadn’t bothered to be the one raising Harry? 

“I’m Y/N,” Slightly stumbling upon her words, head still attempting its best to construct the perfect introduction. Taking in the expression of innocence before the reveal of the truth, she breathed out the last moments of being seen as a stranger in the young wizard’s eyes. “Y/N Potter… your aunt.”

That had Harry pull himself to sit closer to the edge of his bed, almost as if he had been nearing to the climax of a story, “I don’t have any other aunts, there’s only Aunt Petunia.” The witch expected such an answer. She had slept herself with the exact clench in her heart, possibly tearing up at the words. Y/N had not prepared herself. The voice reciting the words repeatedly in her head had been nothing like the real deal. The words from her nephew’s lips had sent piercing daggers into her heart. Of course, the boy wouldn’t know of her existence. Why would James make his son cling onto the idea of an aunt who had magic running in her veins? Without having too much fun in observing Petunia, the witch made the easy conclusion that the muggle had been against the idea of magic in her house. Or anywhere near her. It wouldn’t even be a surprise if Petunia didn’t bother to tell the young boy about his other aunt. 

Head leaning to her side, almost hitting the door frame, she took in the sight of the lookalike to her older brother. The sinking feeling of not being able to say her farewell dived into her gut. Maybe Y/N could’ve saved her older brother who had done nothing but love her and his wife he had gushed over non-stop. Maybe Y/N could’ve been the sacrifice to save the family James had been wanting to grow. However, it was all in the past now. And it was all just a ‘maybe’. Just ‘if’ questions. Even with the darkest of magic, nothing could ever bring back the path she wished she would’ve hopped on. 

“Hello? Lady?… Y/N?” 

Pulling away from her daydreaming, her gaze smeared from the boy to the frame resting on his wooden table. Within a few steps, the frame was in her grasp. Harry was on his feet, wand tightly grasped. Fear stuck him. The stranger had barged into his room, a wand in her hand- just like him, just like the magical community, and now, she had the frame of his parents in her fingers. Years on the run. Years of swimming in guilt she would never be able to pull out of. And still, the thought of the happy couple had caused beads to rise to the surface. If the Dark Lord had seen her in such a state, there would, without a doubt, he would’ve called her weak. A weak little witch. Pureblood could’ve been held up so high, yet, they were people- wizards with emotion. Pure or not. Her lips quivered, chest heaving at the grin plastered on the couple’s faces. Y/N could’ve been the reason James could’ve been alive. Y/N could’ve been the reason Lily and James had a chance at the happiness they deserved. What would she know? It was just words whispered about the scandalizing couple and observations from afar that had led her to such a conclusion. Lily had not been so fond of James at the start, somehow, they ended up together. Y/N wouldn’t know anything as she had busied herself with other issues. 

“You look so much like James… your eyes like Lily’s.” Y/N managed to squeeze out, the syllables lingered in the air before she could even digest the fact that she could even say it. Her eyes gazed away from the dancing figures of the photograph to the boy. He looks so much like them. 

“How do you know my parents? How are you my aunt?” 

“I’m James’ younger sister by two years. I can see you have not heard of me,” Harry nodded, eyes still bewildered at the relative he didn’t even know he had. One night- well, very early in the morning, for everything to suddenly change. “I’m sorry.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the abrupt apology, “What for?” 

“Not being there with you, when you needed me most.”

Head quirked to the side, the young wizard stared at his aunt, thoughts bouncing off the walls of his head in confusing lines, overlapping each other in a sickly motion, “Well, where have you been?”