hai queen could we get a damned part three?
DAMNED TO LOVING YOU (3)
In which; Sirius Black survives years of devastating separation, anchoring his fractured mind to his innocence and the enduring love for his family until he can finally reclaim the home and life that were stolen from them.
(inspired by “damned” by miguel)
DTLY (1) (2) (3)
husband!sirius black x reader
author notes: here it is, last and final part yayy! sorry it took me a sec, this part was unexpectedly long, even though i already summarized the whole prisoner of azkaban ending. i gave their daughter a name pls forgive me, it's also the same as another Black family member's, which makes her II. anyw im so so thankful for all the support in this story, thank u guys so much!
3913 words
Hours before, the dust in the Shrieking Shack hung heavy in the air, thick with the scent of rotting wood, damp earth, and decades of bitter isolation. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood frozen in the center of the dark room, with Cassiopeia Black II beside them, forming the fourth point of their unbreakable quartet.
Within moments, the terrifyingly skeletal mass murderer cornered them—but the exact moment his storm-gray eyes locked onto Cassie, his vengeful fury vanished entirely. Dropping to his knees, Sirius Black wept, pulling his daughter into a desperate embrace.
Over the chaotic hour that followed, the truths of the past twelve years unraveled in a breathless blur. Professor Lupin arrived, instantly recognizing Cassie as the perfect mix of Sirius and Y/N. Together, they forced the cowardly Peter Pettigrew out of his twelve-year rat disguise, revealing the true traitor. Yet, before justice could be served, the full moon rose.
Lupin transformed into a ferocious werewolf, Pettigrew escaped into the dark grass, and a swarm of soul-sucking Dementors descended upon a weakened Sirius by the Black Lake. Harry and Cassie fought them off with their Patronuses—Harry’s silver stag and Cassie’s brilliant silver dove—before Sirius was ultimately captured by the Ministry.
Refusing to let the story end in tragedy, Cassie, Harry, and Hermione utilized a hidden Time-Turner to rewrite the night. Sneaking through the past three hours, Cassie briefly let her true Black bloodline show when she violently pinned an arrogant Draco Malfoy against a stone wall for mocking Hagrid, right before Hermione famously broke his nose.
Working with absolute precision, they rescued Buckbeak the Hippogriff and flew up to the West Tower, breaking Sirius out of his cell just before the Dementor's Kiss. With a final, breathless promise to Cassie—"I'll see you at home"—Sirius flew away into the starlit clouds, free at last.
Fast forward: The true homecoming, the one his soul had demanded since the gavel hit the stand, happened miles away in the quiet sanctuary of the country, where the wind carried that very same free sky.
You were standing by the fireplace in the small, hidden cottage, your heart permanently heavy with the news of your husband's escape and the subsequent chaos at Hogwarts.
Every creak of the floorboards made your chest tighten with an old, familiar ache.
Suddenly, the front door swung inward.
Remus stepped into the warmth of the living room, carrying a strange, luminous spark in his eyes that you hadn't seen in over a decade. Behind him, a massive, shaggy black dog slipped through the threshold, its paws clicking softly against the hardwood.
You froze, the iron poker slipping from your fingers and clattering against the stone hearth.
The great black dog didn't hesitate.
It stepped forward, its skeletal frame shifting, growing, and lengthening in a blur of gray light. The fur melted into tattered, dark robes; the gaunt, elongated muzzle shortened into sharp, familiar cheekbones, covered in a thick, silver-streaked beard. Dark, tangled hair fell past his shoulders, framing a face that was hollowed by time and suffering, yet completely, unescapably his.
Sirius.
Your breath hitched, a broken, choked sound escaping your throat. For twelve years, you had lived in a world of ghosts.
For twelve years, you had looked at your daughter and seen a memory.
"Y/N," he breathed. His voice was deeper now, raspy and carrying the weight of a thousand silent nights, but the way he said your name was exactly the same as the night he had shouted it over the din of Courtroom Ten.
Tears rushed to your eyes, blinding and hot, spilling over your cheeks as you threw yourself across the room, your body colliding with his thin, rigid frame. Sirius caught you with a desperate, guttural sob, his long arms wrapping around your waist and lifting you completely off your feet. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of you—vanilla, baked goods, and home—a scent he had fought to remember through the worst torments of hell.
"I'm here, I'm here, I'm home," he muttered frantically against your skin, his body trembling violently as he held you so tightly it bruised.
You cried hard, your hands clutching at the long, tangled strands of his hair, pulling his face back just enough to look at him.
Your fingers traced the deep lines around his gray eyes and the sharpness of his jaw, washing away the grime of Azkaban with your own tears.
"I never stopped looking at the sky," you wept, your voice a beautiful, broken wreck. "I never stopped believing you, Sirius. I missed you so much."
He brought his hands up to cup your face, his calloused palms rough against your skin, his thumbs wiping furiously at the tracks of your tears. His own eyes were bright, brimming with an overflowing, desperate emotion.
"I knew you wouldn't," he choked out, leaning forward until his forehead pressed firmly against yours. "The only thing that kept the Dementors from destroying my mind was the thought of you, Y/N. The knowledge that I was innocent and that you and Cass were out here. Every day, I imagined this exact room. I imagined the warmth of your skin. Twelve years... God, I missed you."
He pulled you back against his chest, tucking your head underneath his chin as his arms locked securely around you.
He rocked you slightly in the firelight, trembling, as if he still couldn't quite believe you weren't a hallucination spawned by the despair of Azkaban.
You pulled back just a fraction, your hands sliding down to wrap around his waist, feeling the painful thinness of his frame.
"Look at me," you whispered, your voice trembling.
Sirius opened his eyes, those familiar storm-gray depths now entirely softened, gazing down at you with a reverent, fragile awe. You leaned up on your toes and pressed your lips to his.
The kiss started with a ragged, desperate hunger—a fierce release of twelve years of stolen breath, quiet tears, and agonizing solitude. But as the initial panic of the reunion settled, the kiss slowed, deepening into something profoundly tender and heavy with history.
Sirius let out a low, shaky sigh against your mouth, his hands moving from your waist up to the small of your back, pulling you so close there was no air left between you.
He kissed you as if he were memorizing the exact shape of your lips all over again, washing away the memory of the Dementors with the pure, unadulterated warmth of your touch.
When he finally pulled back, he didn't let go. He buried his face in your hair, his hands tangling in your clothes.
"Don't let go," he murmured, his voice a raspy whisper against your ear. "Just stay right here. Let me catch up to the time they took."
"I'm not going anywhere, Sirius," you whispered back, tracing the sharp line of his collarbone beneath his worn robes. "We have all the time in the world now."
Remus stood by the door, a soft, bittersweet smile touching his lips as a single tear slipped down his scarred cheek. "Except maybe to pick up Cassie from the train."
You and Sirius let out a laugh.
Seeing his best friends finally reunited, a heavy weight seemed to lift from Remus' own shoulders. Without another word, he quietly turned and slipped down the hallway, leaving the two of you alone in the firelight to heal.
"You did a wonderful job with her," Sirius whispered to you as the both of you sat on the couch later. "She's a good kid."
"Thank you, that is all me, I suppose." You looked directly at him with a smirk. "She's only yours because she got your looks."
"Rude, but true," Sirius said, agreeing nonetheless. "Her personality is all Y/N Avery."
Meanwhile, the rhythmic clack-clack of the Hogwarts Express echoed through the compartment as the train cut through the sweeping Scottish countryside, heading back to London.
Outside, the sun was shining, a stark contrast to the dark, stormy year they had just survived.
Inside the compartment, the atmosphere was quiet, stripped of the usual end-of-term excitement.
Ron was sitting by the window, his leg still resting awkwardly in front of him, while Hermione flipped idly through a book.
Harry sat looking out at the passing trees, a strange, distant expression on his face.
Sitting right across from him was Cassie.
The weight of everything that had happened in the Shrieking Shack, and the frantic, impossible rescue in the clock tower, still hung heavily between them. They had fought side by side as the fourth point of their small quartet for years, but the revelation of Cassie's bloodline had shifted the earth beneath Harry's feet.
Harry finally broke his gaze from the window, turning his green eyes toward her. "Why didn't you tell me, Cassie?" he asked, his voice low, matching the steady hum of the train. "All this time. We've known each other since first year. We've shared a common room, fought basilisks... and you never mentioned him. You never told me Sirius Black was your father."
Cassie swallowed hard, looking down at her hands tightly clasped in her lap. "Because I didn't want you to hate me," she said honestly, her voice cracking slightly. "Before this week, the world thought my dad was a madman and Voldemort's right-hand man. How was I supposed to look my best friend in the eye and say my father betrayed yours? I was terrified you'd look at me and just see a killer's blood."
Harry’s expression softened instantly, any lingering defensive tension leaving his shoulders. "I would never have hated you, Cassie. You're my best friend."
Ron leaned forward from his corner, his brow furrowing as a sudden realization hit him. "Wait a minute," he blurted out, looking between Cassie and Harry. "Since Sirius Black is your dad... that makes you a Black. And your aunt is Narcissa Malfoy. Which means... Draco Malfoy is technically your cousin." Ron’s eyes widened, and he gestured wildly with his hands. "Blimey, Cass, your blood is very pure. You’re practically wizarding royalty, in the worst way possible!"
Cassie rolled her eyes, a faint, annoyed smirk touching her lips. "You know I don't care about that, Ron. Blood status is just a label for people who don't have anything better to brag about."
"But still," Ron insisted, looking genuinely horrified by the family tree he had just mapped out. "Related to a Malfoy? I wouldn't wish that on anyone. No wonder you shoved him so hard against the wall back in the courtyard! Family resemblance or something."
"It's not a family resemblance, Ron; it's just called having zero patience for gits," Cassie retorted, leaning back against the seat. "Besides, my family tree is a disaster. If you think Malfoy is bad, you should see the rest of the tapestry. It’s exactly why Mum and I walked away from it."
Ron scratched his head, squinting as he tried to remember his dad's endless lectures on old wizarding families. "Hold on, though. So, Avery isn't your real last name. Everyone's been calling you 'Cassie Avery' for three years!"
Hermione closed her book with a soft thud, her eyes widening as she looked at Cassie. "Ron's right. The school registers, your trunk, everything says 'Avery.' It's the name you've used since our first day on this train. Even when Malfoy was calling people names, he never realized you two were related because of it."
"Avery is my mum's last name," Cassie explained gently, a faint, bittersweet smile touching her lips as she looked at her friends. "She's Y/N Avery. When my dad was sent away, she took her maiden name back to keep the Black name away from me. It was the only way to hide us from the Ministry and from the Malfoys and Blacks who would have tried to claim me for their pureblood nonsense."
"But the Averys are also pureblood supremacists," Ron pointed out, leaning forward. "So even with your mum's last name, you're still from an old, traditionalist family tree on paper."
"Well, yes," Cassie sighed. "The Averys are ancient, and they're just as obsessed with blood purity as the Blacks. But that absolute bigotry started to end with my mum. She completely rejected their pureblood supremacy ideals, and because of that, they practically disowned her for refusing to fall in line."
"Bloody Hell," Ron muttered, shaking his head. "So you're a mix of two old pureblood lines and the Black madness? That explains a lot about your abilities, actually. No wonder Malfoy looked like he was about to faint when you pinned him."
Harry paused, looking down at the fabric of his jeans as a deeper, more painful question surfaced. "But... why didn't anyone tell me? Not just you. Your mum, Professor Lupin... why didn't I even know Sirius had a daughter? Why was your entire existence kept a secret from me?"
"To protect both of us," Cassie explained gently, leaning forward so only he could hear. "After Godric's Hollow, everything fell apart. My dad went to Azkaban, and Mum knew the wizarding world would target his child. To protect me from the Ministry and remaining Death Eaters, she and Uncle Remus hid me away in that small cottage to give me a normal life away from the shadow of his name."
She reached across the small gap between their seats, placing a reassuring hand over his. "And your aunt and uncle hate magic, Harry; they never would have told you. Dumbledore insisted on keeping our families completely apart to protect you, because knowing about me and my father would have ruined the safety measures around your house. It was a horrible secret that Mum and Uncle Remus hated, but it was the only way to ensure you stayed safe."
Harry swallowed hard, digesting the weight of a decade's worth of forced isolation. He looked down at her hand, and for the first time in days, a genuine, bittersweet smile touched his lips.
"It's brilliant, isn't it?" Harry murmured, his green eyes reflecting a sudden, profound sense of relief. "All this time, I thought I had absolutely no one left. Just the Dursleys. But my godfather is out there. And I've got you."
"I've always been here, Harry," Cassie whispered fiercely, giving his hand a tight, supportive squeeze. "And I am not going anywhere."
Hermione looked up from her book, a bright, knowing smile on her face as she gestured toward the window. "Same with me and Ron, Harry," she said softly, breaking the heavy moment.
Ron looked startled at the mention of his name, too busy listening to Harry's and Cassie's conversation. "Yeah, she's right, Harry; we won't ever leave you behind. You're family."
You stood on the bustling platform of King’s Cross, waiting as the Hogwarts Express roared to a halt. When the doors opened, Cassie came rushing through the crowd, her Gryffindor tie slightly askew, throwing her arms around you in a burst of breathless, joyful laughter. "Mum!"
Instead of returning to the cramped cottage, Remus told you to go to a much safer, grander location: 12 Grimmauld Place, which was Sirius' childhood home.
When the heavy front door clicked open, the usual musty, dark scent of the Black ancestral home was entirely masked by the rich, mouth-watering aroma of roasted meats, garlic, and seasoned potatoes wafting from the kitchen.
Cassie walked into the grand kitchen to find Sirius looking significantly healthier, his hair neatly trimmed as he set a massive platter on the long wooden table.
He froze when he saw her, his eyes softening instantly.
"Hey, my little star," Sirius said softly, dropping his dish towel.
Dinner that night at Grimmauld Place was the first true moment of a happy family you had experienced in thirteen years, completely banishing the dark history of the house. Cassie, practically bursting with excitement, began to recount every single wild adventure she, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had faced over the years—sneaking out under invisibility cloaks, breaking school rules, using the Time-Turner, and fighting dark creatures as a tight-knit quartet. They talked about Harry briefly, how resilient he was, and how he was holding up in the face of everything.
"You know," you smiled, reaching across the table to squeeze Sirius's hand, "when she first told Harry that you were his godfather, he couldn't believe it at first. He thought it was just another rumor. But he knows the truth now. He loves you, Sirius."
Sirius swallowed hard, deeply moved, before a classic, mischievous glint returned to his eyes. He leaned across the table, propping his chin on his hand as he looked at his daughter.
"So, a member of the famous Golden Quartet, are we? Sneaking around, causing trouble... sounds familiar. Remus and I used to do the exact same thing, you know. But tell me, princess, with all this rule-breaking, are there any boys I need to keep an eye on? Because if that Weasley boy or any other Gryffindor is giving you looks, your old dad and your Uncle Remus still know a few choice hexes."
"Dad!" Cassie gasped, her cheeks turning bright red as she hid her face in her hands, while you and Remus erupted into breathless, joyful laughter.
Sirius chuckled, leaning back in his chair, but his eyes remained warmly fixed on his daughter. "In all seriousness, Cass," he said, his voice softening into a tone of quiet awe, "hearing about everything you've done... I can't even begin to tell you how proud I am. You've got your mother's fierce heart, but Merlin help us, you definitely have my knack for finding trouble."
"Hey, I don't find trouble," Cassie protested with a grin, finally peeling her hands away from her blushing face. "Trouble usually has a way of cornering us in a school corridor."
"Spoken like a true Marauder," Remus murmured, pouring himself a fresh cup of tea with a quiet, contented sigh. For the first time in over a decade, the lines of exhaustion on his face seemed entirely smoothed out. "Though I must admit, navigating a basilisk in your second year puts our schoolboy pranks to absolute shame."
You smiled, looking around the table at the three of them. The warmth of the room seemed to actively push back against the ancient, dark architecture of Grimmauld Place. You reached out, placing one hand over Cassie's and the other over Sirius's, physically anchoring yourself to the beautiful reality of your family together. "We missed so much," you said softly, your voice thick with a sudden wave of emotion. "But sitting here right now... it feels like the pieces are finally back where they belong."
Sirius squeezed your hand back tightly, his storm-gray eyes shining in the candlelight. "We have a lot of time to make up for," he whispered, looking between you and Cassie. "And I intend to spend every single day of the rest of my life doing exactly that."
Later that night, after the kitchen had grown quiet and Cassie was fast asleep upstairs, the heavy silence of the old house returned, but it was no longer cold.
You stood in Sirius’s bedroom, watching the moonlight filter through the high windows, casting long, silver bars across the dark wooden floorboards. Sirius stepped into the room, closing the heavy wooden door behind him with a soft, definitive click, sealing the rest of the world away.
The playful, mischievous charm he had put on at the dinner table faded completely, replaced by the deep, sentimental intensity that had always existed solely between the two of you. He walked over to you slowly, his gray eyes locked onto yours with a gravity that made your breath hitch. When he reached you, his large, scarred hands slid around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest.
There were no more years to count, no more iron bars, and no more stolen moments.
He pressed his forehead to yours, his breath shuddering, hot and uneven against your skin, exactly like the day on the stone landing of the courtroom.
But this time, there were no chains.
There were no Ministry guards shouting orders.
There was only the quiet crackle of the hearth and the agonizingly beautiful reality of your skin against his.
His thumb traced your jawline with a worshipful, heavy reverence, tilting your face up slightly. "I used to close my eyes in the dark," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion, "and try to trace the memory of your face. When the cold got too bad, I would think of the way you laughed, the way you looked at me before everything went wrong. I thought I'd never get to hold you like this again."
"I'm here," you murmured fiercely, your hands sliding up his chest to wrap around the back of his neck, burying your fingers in his neatly trimmed hair. "I'm right here, Sirius. I'm never letting you go again."
He leaned down, and this time, the kiss was a slow, agonizingly beautiful testament to what you had survived. It wasn't born out of frantic panic anymore but out of a deep, aching devotion. His lips parted yours gently, tasting you with a quiet reverence that sent a shiver down your spine.
His hands moved with an absolute certainty, tracing the curve of your waist and the line of your hips, as if he were reclaiming everything the world had tried to steal from him.
Every touch was an unvoiced apology for the years spent apart, a silent vow that he belonged to you entirely.
You pulled him closer, your hearts beating in a frantic, synchronized rhythm against each other's chests. Sirius groaned softly into the kiss, his grip tightening as he lifted you slightly, his lips leaving yours to trail hot, breathless kisses down your jawline to the sensitive skin of your neck.
You gasped, throwing your head back as his hands slid beneath your shirt, his warm palms making contact with your bare skin. The contrast of his heat against the cool night air made your mind spin.
He pulled back just an inch, his breathing ragged as his gray eyes searched your face in the dim moonlight. His hands framed your face, his thumbs gently sweeping across your cheekbones. "I love you," he whispered, the words carrying a profound, desperate weight, as if he needed to say them a thousand times to make up for every silent night in his cell. "I love you so much, Y/N. I never stopped. Not for a single second."
"I know," you replied, your voice a breathless, emotional whisper as you looked back into the eyes of the man you had never given up on. "I loved you through it all, Sirius. Every single day."
Slowly, reverently, he guided you toward the large, velvet-curtained bed, never breaking the intoxicating contact of his lips against yours. Every movement was deliberate, a sacred ritual of making up for lost time.
Tangled together in the deep, enveloping warmth of the sheets, completely consumed by each other, the shadows of Azkaban finally dissolved.
Every touch, every breathless gasp, and every whispered declaration of love in the quiet night was a beautiful defiance against the world.
They had locked him away, they had stolen his youth, and they had cursed his name, but as the firelight danced across the room, the truth remained absolute.
He was home, he was entirely yours, and he was forever damned to loving you.
