Animagus reader who can turn into a niffler and is constantly giving barty her findings because reg would make her return them! They also exclusively wear silver because she likes gold shiny things lol
A Bored Barty
Bartylus x Reader
Summary: Barty is bored, alone in his dorm room- until his darling treasure brings him a treasure of her own.
WC: 1.1k
CW: Nothing really. Kisses used as weapons of war. Dont write for Regulus much so forgive me ( Art cred: kprk_pkrs on Twitter)
Barty was bored.
A dangerous thing, really.
He laid sprawled across his bed, one arm hanging off the side, tossing a small, silver knut into the air, catching it, then throwing it again. He had already read through all the interesting books in the dorm, bothered his least favorite housemate, and debated sneaking into Slughornâs stash for a bit of fun. But even that felt like too much effort.
He sighed dramatically, letting his head loll to the side. The dorm was still, the air thick with the kind of midday lull that made his skin itch- drew you down to this unbearable tired. He needed something. A spark. A game. A bit of madness to wake his bones.
And then-
A soft, skittering sound at the doorway. Tiny claws against stone. A flicker of movement in the corner of his vision.
Barty turned his head sharply, and his entire mood shifted instantly the second he saw that familiar teal coat.
âOh, thereâs my girl,â He purred, pushing himself up on his elbows as you- small, sleek, and utterly adorable in your niffler form- scurried towards him with purpose.Â
A purpose that gleamed between your paws.
Barty let out a delighted, wicked little laugh, eyes gleaming with manic glee as you proudly presented your newest prize- a golden ring, ornate and entirely not yours.
âWell, well, well,â He cooed, sitting up fully and reaching out to pluck it from your grasp. He examined it between his fingers, tilting his head as he recognized the engravings. âNow, this is entirely too big for you, innit?â
He grinned. You grinned (or, at least, you looked quite pleased with yourself). Preened? You preened.
Then-Â
The door slammed open.
Barty didnât even flinch. If anything, his day had just gotten much better.
Because there, standing in the doorway, looking half-feral and wholly pissed, was Regulus.Â
Barty could kiss you for this. Truly, he could. And, in fact, he might.
Because what was better than both of his partners being in the same room? A pissed off Reg.
âYou,â Regulus growled, storming forward, shoulders tense, hair slightly out of place like he had run here. âTell me you did not let her steal from Avery of all people.â
Oh he just adored you.
Barty just tilted his head, considering. Then he smirked. âDefine âlet.ââ
Regulus made an exasperated sound, reaching for the ring in Bartyâs hand.
Barty, quick as a viper, yanked him down by the collar.
Regulus barely had time to blink before Bartyâs mouth was on his, stealing away every single ounce of righteous anger in one swift, practiced move.
Regulus, like the absolute fool that he was, immediately squeezed his eyes shut. Barty always found it the cutest thing- Regulus unable to help himself. As natural as a moody cat flicking its tail, as a lion roars and as a cougar stalks- Regulus Black closed his eyes for kisses.
Barty smirked against his lips. Eying the cute way his nose scrunched up and he let out a sound close to a whine- protests he never truly meant. The adorable sight complete with him reaching for Bartyâs pockets; already knowing what Barty was up to.
And somehow? His free hand still slipped the ring into his pocket without obstacle.
You, still perched on the bed, let out a soft hum of approval, tail flicking as you watched with an utterly smug sort of delight.
Barty deepened the kiss for just a moment- long enough to enjoy the soft, reluctant way Regulus gave in before he pulled back with a smirk.
âWhat was that you were saying, love?â He purred, tapping Regulusâs chin lightly with his fingers. âSomething about our dear olâ Avery?â
Regulus huffed, eyes fluttering open, already scowling as he reached for Bartyâs pocket again. âGive. It. Back.â
Barty grinned. âGive what back?â
Regulus glared. âThe ring, Barty.â
âThe ring?â Barty echoed, feigning confusion. He patted his chest, then his sides, then even made a show of checking under the pillow. âHm. Donât seem to have it.â
âYou-â Regulus cut himself off, jaw tightening. Then his sharp gaze flickered to you, still perched happily on the bed, tail flicking with amusement.
âAnd you,â he accused. âYou know exactly what you did.â
You tilted your head, ears twitching, looking every bit the picture of innocent curiosity.
Bartyâs grin only widened. âOh, come on, Reg,â he drawled, fingers lazily tracing circles on Regulusâs waist where he still had him held close. âLook at that face- does that look like the face of a thief?â
Regulus pinched the bridge of his nose, as if trying to summon the patience of Merlin himself.
âTurn back,â Barty said suddenly, looking at you now, voice smug and expectant.
You blinked up at him.
âGo on, love,â he coaxed, a lilt of challenge in his tone. âLetâs see those totally empty pockets of yours, shall we?â
For a moment, you debated staying in your niffler form- safe, small, and easy to scamper away if things got sticky. Barty looked ready to bite- Regulus too. But both were looking at you like they already knew.
With a soft huff, you shifted back into your human form- warm magic rippling over your body as you transformed.
Barty let out a bark of delighted laughter the second he saw you.
Because, oh, you were full of it.
Your pockets bulged comically, weighed down with far too many treasures- little trinkets and stolen baubles pressing against the fabric, revealing shapes of coins, buttons, and Merlin knew what else.
Regulus made an outright wounded noise. âOh, for Salazarâs sake-â
Barty grabbed your wrist and yanked you down into his lap, laughing as he did so. âYou absolute menace,â he grinned, wrapping his arms around you tight. âNot a dull moment with you, hm?â
You wriggled slightly, but Barty just adjusted, pulling Regulus down with you in one smooth, easy move- trapping you both in his arms. Regulus made a sound of protest, but it was weak at best, his cheek pressed against your temple, caught between exasperation and reluctant affection.
Barty smirked against your hair. âNow,â he murmured, voice slow, teasing, âshould we even bother to check her pockets? Or should we just accept the fact that our little niffler is a bloody menace and move on?â
Regulus groaned into your shoulder. âYou both drive me mad.â
Barty just laughed, pleased as anything, nuzzling shamelessly against the two of you as you let out a small, smug hum of victory.
Because in a few hours, Regulus would make you empty your pockets and identify whose riches were whose. Heâd likely scold you but give up half way through when he sees those pretty eyes of yours gloss.
Heâd make you return them and Barty would be alone in his room again. Waiting.
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okay sooo i had an idea that might be incredibly outdated by now but itâs my favoriteeee and iâd love to see ur own spin on it
iâm thinking either regulus or barty (which ever u think fits better) who is incredibly warm like all the time, think walking radiatorđ and reader is just really cold 24/7 and uses him to warm up whenever she sees fit :,)
love love ur work and your page btw !! so beautiful
Stolen Warmth
bartylus x fem!reader
synopsis: in which barty, always the warmest among you, finds his heat intensified by a lingering feverâan unexpected advantage that you and regulus cannot ignore. perpetually cold, the two of you compete and conspire to claim his reluctant warmth, turning every cuddle into a battle.
warnings: mild illness/fever, light bickering, playful teasing, animagi chasing, mild emotional tension, some physical discomfort (cold/heat sensitivity), regulus being a little shit, sick/soft barty, fluff fluff fluff
wc: 2.1k
a/n: i did a little twist to this, and since i couldn't pick between barty and regulus, thought i'd do both <33 hope this meets your expectations!
masterlist
You bolt out of class the moment the professor mutters dismissal, not even bothering to shove your quill fully into your bag as you barrel through the corridors.Â
Your fingers are already numb, curled tightly around your scarf, and your thoughts are consumed by a single, glorious truth: Barty is in the dorm, and according to the sacred cuddle schedule, it is your turnânot Regulusâs.
You love both of your boyfriends, you really, really do, but cuddling with Regulus is an actual nightmare.Â
Heâs beautiful, devastatingly beautiful, but heâs also so bloody cold, and curling up with him feels less like affection and more like someoneâs slipped a block of ice between your ribs. You have endured it before, out of love and obligation.
Barty, on the other hand, is blessedly, unfairly warm, like some ancient elemental spirit of heat and comfort wrapped in sleepy eyes and strong arms.Â
And while most people assume that being in a relationship with two boys would come with all sorts of complicated emotional drama, the truth is, the only real conflict you ever face is the bitter, eternal war between you and Regulus over who gets to absorb Bartyâs body heat first.Â
Today, the universe has aligned. Barty is in bed, warm beyond reason, and by all that is holy in the cuddle constitution, that warmth belongs to you.
Which is why youâre here, running full speed through the corridor like your life depends on it, because if Regulus gets there before you, he will wrap himself around Barty like a smug, aristocratic scarf and never let go, and you won't have any leftover heat.
Your footsteps echo sharply as you sprint down the stairs, nearly slipping when you round the corner that leads to the Slytherin dormitory.
You slow just enough to give the stone wall the correct password, then push through the entrance, half-blind with purpose and windburn.
But the second your eyes land on the corridor leading to your shared room, your stomach drops.
There he is.
A sleek black cat sits calmly just outside the door, tail flicking with smug precision. His pale green eyes meet yours, gleaming with the unmistakable glint of mischief.
âRegulus, you little shit,â you hiss, voice thick with betrayal.
He meows, almost mockingly, then turns and bolts.
Your legs move before your brain catches up. âOh no, you donât!â you shout, slamming your bag against the wall as you give chase.Â
Your boots skid on the polished stone floor as you race after him, your scarf flapping wildly behind you like a flag of war.
He darts around corners with practiced grace, sleek and unbothered, tail curling just so as if to taunt you. You, on the other hand, are panting and flustered, your frozen fingers clenched into fists as you throw yourself forward, heart pounding not from fear but from pure, unfiltered indignation.
Heâs going to beat you to Barty.Â
And youâll be damned if you let that smug little bastard steal your heat slot.
âRegulus!â you yell, chasing him as he darts like a shadow toward your dorm door and the warm, toasty boy inside.
You lunge the moment his slick black tail flicks around the corner, and just as Regulus-still in cat formâis about to slink triumphantly into the dorm room, you skid in front of the door and slam it shut with both palms.
The thud echoes like victory.
You whip around, hair disheveled, chest heaving from the chase, as the cat freezes just inches from the door.Â
He glares up at you with those imperious green eyes, his tail flicking like an insult, his tiny cat nose twitching in blatant offenseâas if youâre the one committing treason.
But youâre already reaching into your robe pocket with the righteousness of a lawyer mid-trial, and you produce the parchment scroll with theatrical precision.
Bartyâs gold-inked title gleams at the top like a royal decree: âHeat Access Schedule: Property of Bartemius C. Crouch Jr.â It sparkles obnoxiously.
You crouch to his level, unravel the scroll with theatrical flair, and jab your finger at the bold, clearly marked time slot.
âRegulus Arcturus Black,â you pant, triumph dripping from every syllable as you flash him your most evil grin, âit is my time. Seven to eight thirty. Right there. And I quoteââLap and chest privileges at full discretion of Y/N.â That clause was reviewed, signed, and stamped with Bartyâs wax seal. This is legally binding under the cuddle constitution and you damn well know it.â
He blinks slowly.
Then slowly, too slowly, he lifts his paw, unsheathes one delicate little claw, and rips the parchment in half. The sound of tearing paper is somehow louder than it should be.
You freeze, staring at the ruined remains of the schedule as they flutter pitifully to the floor like the ashes of your last shred of patience.
âAre you kidding me?!â you shriek. âYou absolute menace! I need my cuddles, Regulus! Stop being a selfish littleââ
You launch forward to grab him, but heâs already leapt backward like a slippery shadow, tail high and smug as he bolts for the dorm.
âGet back here!â you yell, nearly tripping as you scramble after him.
âYOU'RE A CAT, NOT A THIEF!âCOME BACK AND FACE ME LIKE A MAN!â
He lets out a low, unimpressed meow that sounds suspiciously like a scoff. You swear he raises an eyebrow, somehow, despite having fur.
âFine,â you mutter, standing up with exaggerated weariness.
âIf rules donât mean anything to you, then I guess Iâll just go all alone into the cold, where Iâll probably freeze to death. But no, itâs okayâdonât worry about me.â
You sniff loudly, tugging your scarf higher over your nose like a tragic orphan. âItâs not like I havenât been feeling faint all day. I mean, Iâm only showing early signs of hypothermiaâtingling fingers, shivering spine, loss of will to liveâminor things, really.â
You wobble slightly on your feet for effect. âI was just hoping for a little warmth. A little kindness or cuddle, maybe. But clearlyâŠâ You sigh as your voice breaks. âClearly I was wrong.â
The silence stretches.
Then, with the softest rustle of fur and magic, Regulus shifts.
It begins with a shimmer around his paws, a ripple of something ancient and practiced. In the space of a heartbeat, where the cat stood, there is now a boyâpale-skinned and annoyingly elegant even barefoot in a dorm hallway.
His black curls fall into his eyes as he studies you, his expression exasperated but ever so slightly fond.
âOh, amour,â he murmurs, voice like velvet steeped in sarcasm. âAre you truly that cold? I am so sorry.â
You blink at him, lips tremblingânot from cold, but from the effort it takes not to laugh.
And in that single, suspended moment of sympathy, you twist, grab the door handle behind you, and barge inside.
âBarty!â you yell, throwing yourself onto the bed in a blur of scarf and limbs.
You hear the slam of the door, the rapid slap of bare feet against stone, and then he is chasing you againâbut itâs too late. Youâve already landed on Barty, who is lying sideways across the bed with his arms open in sleepy confusion.
He jerks upright with a startled grunt, arms instinctively catching you even as his eyes snap open wide.
âWhat theâwhat the bloody hell is going on?â he exclaims, voice pitched somewhere between alarmed and scandalized. âDid you just launch yourself at me?â
You look up at him, breath catching in your throat. His hair is tousled from sleep, shirt rumpled, and his hands are already settling instinctively around your waist despite his confusion.
Your voice drops, soft and a little breathless. âBarty,â you say, eyes searching his face, âI missed you.â
His brows draw together, tension easing just slightly as his lips twitch into something warmer, something fond.
âI missed you too, trouble,â he murmurs, brushing his fingers through your hair.
You barely have a second to enjoy the warmth of his chest and the way his heartbeat slows beneath your cheekâbefore the dorm door slams open behind you.
Regulus bursts in, wild-eyed and betrayed, breathing like heâs just sprinted across the castle and looking absolutely offended by the sight of you already cuddled into Bartyâs arms.
Barty immediately tenses beneath you, looking from Regulus to you with the wide-eyed panic of a man caught in the middle of a house fire.
âWhat,â he says slowly, carefully, âdid you both do?â
Thereâs a pause.
You and Regulus both inhale like youâre about to deliver reasoned, mature explanations.
And thenâ
âYou ripped the contract!â you shout, flinging your hand toward Regulus.
âIâm colder than you!â Regulus yells back at the same time.
âYou used your cat form to cheat and get here fasterââ
âYou cuddled him twice yesterday, for longer than your allotted time slotââ
âI needed this, my fingers were numb, Regulusââ
âI have poor circulation!â
âYou tore up the only system we hadââ
âYou lied about being sick!â
âYou always turn into a cat and sneak under the blanketsââ
Their voices collide, climbing louder and louder until itâs impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins. Barty sits frozen between you, arms half-raised like heâs afraid moving might trigger further destruction.
Eventually, Barty sighsâa long, slow breath that carries all the patience and quiet surrender of a man who has given up.
He simply lies back down on the bed, rolling gently onto his side as if inviting the chaos to come to him. He pulls the blanket up over his chest, closing his eyes briefly before lifting one arm just slightlyâan unspoken offer.
You and Regulus exchange a glance, both of you frozen for a moment, then drawn in by that quiet invitation like moths to a flame.
Without hesitation, you slip forward and curl into the warmth of Bartyâs chest, your hands sliding beneath the soft fabric of the blanket, seeking the steady, comforting heat that only he can provide.
Regulus follows, settling on the other side of Barty, his cold fingers lightly brushing against your arm. His breath is soft and steady as he presses closer, resting his cheek near the curve of Bartyâs neck, as if heâs finally found a place where he belongs.
The three of you lie there, perfectly still, the silence full and heavy with the weight of shared warmth and unspoken affection.
After a moment, Regulus slowly blinks up at you, his eyes shining with quiet tenderness.
âJe tâaime,â he murmurs, voice low and gentle.
You smile softly, warmth blooming in your chest.
âJe tâaime, me or Barty?â you tease lightly, nuzzling closer.
Regulusâs lips curve into a mischievous grin. âJe tâaime, you and barty.â
Barty stirs at that, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips despite the congestion weighing on him. He coughs softly, then says, âI love you too, Black.â
You both laugh quietly, the sound mingling with the gentle rhythm of Bartyâs breathing.
Though Barty feels utterly miserable beneath his fevered skin, the contentment of being held by both of you is clear in his softened expression. His arm tightens just a fraction around your waist as he lets himself drift toward sleep.
He doesnât complain, not really. If anything, thereâs a sort of smug peace to him now, even in the throes of whatever miserable cold heâs caught. His fever, for once, has a purpose. His body, too warm to be comfortable for himself, is perfect for the two of you.
And even if his throat aches and his headâs spinning and his entire being feels like it's made of soup, he canât help but feel vaguely victorious. He is loved, wanted, fought over. He is, in the worst of health, still the prize.
And for one perfect, quiet moment, it works.
The dorm is warm and dim, your breath soft against his collarbone, Regulusâs curls tickling the back of his neck, all of you tucked under the covers in one tangle of limbs and shared heat.
Barty lets his eyes fall shut. His body relaxes.
He starts to drift.
And just as the room settles into a perfect, peaceful stillnessâ
âAH!â you shriek, bolting upright as if struck by lightning. âRegulus!âmove your freezing toes away from me!â
synopsis: caught between regulus's soft looks and barty's wild affection, you finally gather the courage to confess until you see them walk in hand in hand. you toast to their happiness, blind to the way their eyes linger, and break in the street where it hits different
warnings: hints of unrequited love, pining, missed signals, miscommunication, heartbreak, longing, bittersweet endings, soft angst, moments of throwing up and getting drunk, background wolfstar and jily, sirius as a brother figure to reader
w/c: 5.2k
a/n: very much inspired by Hits Different by Taylor Swift + You Too, Silly by @crescenthistory
masterlist
Love is a beautiful lie, and the truth is always fucking heartbreak.
It starts like every good mistake doesâwith a smile that tastes like trouble and hands that burn like sin.Â
Youâve always felt it, though you never knew when it began, when the line between friendship and something darker was crossed.
Regulus had always been there, lingering on the periphery of your life, always just close enough that you could almost touch him, but never fully there. He never needed to speak, never needed to explain himself.Â
You learned long ago that his silence was louder than anything he could say, that the way his eyes flickered when they met yours spoke volumes you couldn't translate. He had a way of holding you, not physically, but emotionally, like a tether that kept you grounded even when you didn't want to be.Â
He never made promises, never whispered sweet nothings, but his gaze always lingered a moment longer, like he was waiting for you to notice, waiting for you to understand that his affection wasn't a fleeting thing. He never said it, but you saw it in the way his fingers brushed against yours just a bit too long, in the moments when his eyes softened, like he wanted to pull you into him but couldn't quite bring himself to.Â
And you thought maybe it was enough, maybe you were enough for him to stay just as he was, quiet and distant, always close but never quite there.
Then there was Barty. The chaos in human form. He was fire, unrestrained and untamable. His laughter was a battle cry, sharp and wild, cutting through silence like it was made of paper. He wasnât just thereâhe was everywhere, all at once, like he couldnât stand the thought of being anything less than alive. He grabbed life with both hands, dragged you into the storm with him, never asking if you wanted to follow. You did. Of course.Â
With Barty, there was no hesitation. He was the whispered dare at midnight, the stolen bottle of firewhisky, the reckless grin that made you feel invincible. His touch was hot and lingering, like the singe of a cigarette burn, and his words came out jagged, unfiltered, tearing through every expectation you thought you knew.
Barty had a way of making you feel seen, of making you feel alive. His attention was intoxicating, the way heâd throw his arm around you without hesitation, the way heâd joke, laugh, pull you closer. He was never careful, never measured. He spilled over the edges of everything, uncontained and unapologetic. With him, you didnât have to think. You just had to be.
You didnât even need words with him. It was all about what was unsaid, the unspoken promise that he would never let you go, even when you knew it wasnât true. You could never tell if he was genuine, but you didnât care. Not then. You were caught up in the excitement, in the adventure, in the feeling that for once, you were someoneâs everything.
But then there was the space between themânot a wall, but a quiet understanding. They never seemed to need words when you were around, like the three of you existed in your own gentle orbit. The air shifted when you were together, not with tension, but with the weight of unspoken loyalty and love. They didnât always share the same space in the way they did with you, but there was no sense of rivalryâjust two souls who loved you deeply and, in their own way, loved each other too. It was as if they were waiting, not for a chance to outdo the other, but for a moment when everything would finally make sense
You convinced yourself you were imagining it, that your growing feelings for both of them were nothing more than your own projections. You told yourself that the way Barty made you laugh, the way Regulus looked at you with those unreadable eyes, was nothing more than friendship. That you were just special to them, that you were just a fleeting moment in their lives.
But deep down, you knew that there was something more, something neither of them had ever said, but you felt it in the way they lingered near you, in the way they both seemed to pull you closer when the world was too loud.
You thought they might feel the same way about you, but you were terrified to say it. You were terrified because you didnât know how to ask for something that wasnât promised. You werenât sure if you wanted the risk of it breaking you in the end, of putting yourself out there and realizing that they didnât feel it too.
You blink, and the memory shatters like glass against concrete. Youâre in your room now, draped in soft candlelight, Marlene flitting around with a glass of champagne while Lily curls your hair with slow, delicate precision.
"So, youâre finally going to do it, huh?" Marlene smirks over her glass, eyes glimmering with something like pride. "Confessing your undying love to those two troublemakers."
Lilyâs eyes catch yours in the mirror, gentle and knowing. "Itâs about time," she says quietly. "Theyâve been waiting for you, you know."
Marlene laughs, her voice bright and sharp. "I mean, look at me and Dorcas. I was practically pulling my hair out thinking she didnât want me back. Turns out, the idiot was waiting for me to make the first move." She pauses, then leans back against the vanity. "Sometimes you just have to take the leap."
Lily hums in agreement. "James was the same. I think he asked me out a hundred times before I finally caved." Her smile softens, and her fingers glide through your hair with gentle precision. "Youâre stronger than you think," she whispers. "And those boys are fools if they donât see it."
Thereâs a lull in conversation, just the sound of the champagne bubbling and the soft crackle of the candlewick.
Marlene is perched on your bed, swirling her glass, eyes a little distant. "Dorcas says hi, by the way," she adds casually, but her voice is softer. "She said you need to stop hiding away and come out more often. I think she misses you."
You laugh, a little hollow. "I miss her too," you say honestly, and Marlene smiles like sheâs won something.
"And James?" you ask Lily, because it feels right.
Lilyâs eyes brighten instantly, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "Heâs good. Insufferable as always," she teases, but thereâs warmth in her voice, the kind of warmth that speaks of late-night whispers and stolen glances. "Heâs been working on his quidditchâ
"Thatâs brilliant," you say, meaning it.
Thereâs something grounding about Lily and James, like no matter what chaos erupts around you, they will always be just like thisâstubborn and starry-eyed, orbiting each other with a kind of inevitability.
"And Sirius?" you ask, your voice a little quieter, more careful.
Lilyâs gaze softens. "Off with Remus. I think heâs teaching him how to fly again," she murmurs, fondness dripping from every syllable. "Theyâre probably somewhere in the Forbidden Forest, making terrible decisions and pretending theyâre not."
Your heart twinges with affection, the kind that feels a little too big for your chest. Sirius has always been a constant, a force of nature who blew through your life like a storm and settled just as fiercely. Your older brother in every way that mattered, his presence a weighty comfort youâve never taken for granted.
You think of him sometimesâhow he was the first to punch the boy who called you mudblood, the first to pick you up when you fell off your broom, the first to teach you how to throw a punch and laugh when you got it right. Heâs always been yours, in that strange, familial way thatâs stronger than blood.
Marlene glances up from her glass, eyebrows raised. "You look like youâre ready to face the firing squad," she snorts. "Itâs just Barty and Reg. Theyâre gonna melt like chocolate the second you open your mouth."
You scoff. "Thatâs the most optimistic thing Iâve heard all day."
Lily smiles, her hands gentle as she pins back the last strand of your hair. "They adore you," she whispers. "Everyone sees it but you."
You catch her gaze in the mirror, throat tightening with something you canât quite name. "I just want to tell them," you say quietly. "I just want them to know."
Marlene clinks her glass against yours. "Then do it," she says simply, and thereâs a finality to her words that makes you sit up a little straighter. "No more waiting."
Outside, the stars are blinking awake, bright and untouchable. You close your eyes, take a breath, and prepare to tell them everything.
-
The party is already alive by the time you arrive, the air thick with warmth and the lazy haze of firewhiskey and enchanted lanterns. Before you can even step fully through the door, Sirius is upon you, arms thrown wide with a grin that could split the world open.
"Look who finally decided to show up! I was starting to think youâd ditched us for a quieter life!"
Remus follows close behind, hands stuffed in his pockets but his smile just as welcoming. "Sirius was about to send a search party," he adds dryly, eyes sparkling with mischief.
Sirius throws an arm around your shoulders and steers you further in, practically bouncing with every step. "I even wrote a eulogy," he grins. "It was beautiful. Very moving. I might have shed a tear."
"He cried because he spilled whiskey on his trousers," Remus supplies helpfully. "Spent half an hour blaming Kreacher for cursing his bottle."
"That bastard is out to get me, I swear," Sirius mutters, eyes alight with that familiar recklessness. "One minute Iâm minding my own business, and the nextâsabotage. If I disappear one day, you know who did it."
"Iâm sure Kreacher is plotting your untimely demise as we speak," you say, laughing despite the tightness in your chest. Itâs easier with them, the fear and nerves diluted by their relentless antics, like pouring ice into boiling water, steam rising and vanishing before it can scald.
Sirius gasps, pressing a hand to his heart. "And here I was, planning to be your loyal protector all night. I guess Iâll just have to drink myself to death instead."
Remus rolls his eyes, but his smile softens at the edges. "Iâll make sure he only gets halfway there," he assures you, voice so smooth and steady it feels like an anchor.
You laugh, the sound shaky but real. But as Sirius drags you deeper into the room, the noise and light expanding around you like a pulse, you canât help the way your eyes flicker around the space, searching.
"Theyâre here, you know," Remus murmurs as if reading your mind. His voice is low, careful. "Saw them near the back, with Rosier."
Your heart clenches, stomach flipping with something sharp and unsteady. You nod, trying to smooth out the expression on your face. Sirius, thankfully oblivious, is already waving at someone across the room.
"Theyâre probably waiting for you," Remus continues, voice gentle. "You look great tonight. Theyâd be idiots not to notice."
You smile, but it feels too tight, too sharp. "Hereâs hoping," you say, but your eyes are still searching, scanning the crowd, waiting for a glimpse of silver eyes and wild laughter. Itâs always like thisâlooking for them in every crowded room, like youâve trained your heart to skip a beat at the mere shadow of them.
Sirius is already dragging you towards the bar, tossing back shots with the kind of abandon that only he can pull off, and Remus is smiling, shaking his head like heâs seen this scene a thousand times. But youâyour mind is somewhere else entirely, lingering on the edge of a confession youâve been holding too close to your chest for far too long.
The party hums around you, bright and shimmering, gilded with magic and blurred edges. Youâre caught in the current of your own thoughts, wondering if tonight is the night everything changesâor if it all shatters instead, like glass catching moonlight just before it breaks.
The moment you step away from Sirius and Remus, your feet feel like theyâve turned to lead. Thereâs a heaviness settling into your chest, and with each step toward the door, you feel the familiar weight of nerves building in your stomach.
You canât think of anything else but how youâre about to pour your heart out. Youâre finally going to tell Regulus, finally going to confess to Bartyâlet them know everything youâve kept buried so long.
But just as you reach the door, a loud scream splits the air, shrill and raw, cutting through the hum of conversation and laughter.
You freeze.
Itâs not the kind of scream thatâs full of fun. Itâs something elseâsomething urgent, something that grips your heart in an instant.
And then you hear it. The unmistakable sound of footsteps pounding towards the door, quick and sharp, like a drumbeat in your chest.
Before you can make sense of anything, the door swings open, and there they areâRegulus and Barty.
And, to your complete and utter shock, theyâre holding hands.
The room quiets for a split second, every conversation, every laugh, suspended in time. All eyes land on themâon the two of them standing there, locked in a quiet moment between them, the subtle connection between their fingers telling a story no one else had known.
Barty, ever the dramatic force of nature, clears his throat loudly. "Alright, everyone! Get your champagne and your tissues ready because Iâm about to make your night."
He grins like the world is his for the taking, and with a flourish of their interlaced hands, he practically shouts, "Weâre together! Officially! Romantically! Disgustingly!"
Thereâs a beat of silence before the room explodes into chaosâlaughter, cheers, a few gasps of shock. James nearly drops his drink, eyes wide with disbelief, while Lily nudges him in the ribs, grinning from ear to ear. Marlene and Dorcas are already whispering furiously, glancing between you and the pair at the door with knowing eyes.
Siriusâs mouth drops open for a full five seconds before he bursts out laughing, clapping loudly. "Bloody hell, itâs about time!" he calls out, raising his glass in their direction. "Knew you two were shagging since fifth year!"
Remus smacks him on the arm, muttering something about tact, but even heâs smiling, the kind of smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes.
And youâyou can barely breathe. The world tilts, spins, rights itself in a new and cruel arrangement where the two people you love are standing there, fingers intertwined, looking like every secret wish youâve ever had come to life... just not with you.
They make their way around the room, greeting everyone, laughter and congratulations spilling out in waves. James and Lily are practically glowing, Marleneâs already calling for drinks, Dorcas is smirking with that sharp-edged grin of hers, and Sirius has never looked prouder, arm slung around Remus as if the world has finally made sense.
And finally, finally, they turn to you.
Regulusâs eyes soften just a fraction, something unreadable flickering in their depths. "Hey," he says quietly.
"Hey," you reply, voice barely above a whisper. You can feel every eye on you, waiting for your reaction, but your mask is already in place, perfect and unyielding.
Barty grins wide, all sharp teeth and brilliance. "Well? Arenât you going to congratulate us, treasure?"
You swallow the shards of your heart, forcing a smile that you hope doesnât tremble. "Congrats," you manage, the word brittle on your tongue. "Iâm... Iâm happy for you."
"Thank you" Regulus says softly, and it almost kills you how genuine he sounds.
You nod, eyes burning, and before anyone can say anything else, you turn on your heel and slip through the crowd. You donât look back. You canâtânot when the world has just shifted beneath your feet and youâre barely holding the pieces of your heart together, sharp edges cutting into your palms as you clutch them tight and pretend you donât feel a thing.
You donât remember how you got outside, only that the air is sharper here, knifing its way into your lungs like it wants to carve you out from the inside. There are people around you, laughing, shouting, wrapped up in their own worlds, but theyâre nothing more than ghosts in the corners of your vision.
You think of themâof Regulus and Barty, fingers entwined like it was always meant to be that way. You think of the way Regulus would touch your wrist when he spoke to you, the way his eyes would linger just a moment too long. You think of Bartyâs wild grin, the way he would throw his arm around your shoulders and call you his favorite.
You think of all the nights spent tangled up in laughter and reckless joy, hearts open and bleeding in the dark, and you canât stop the laugh that rips from your throatâwild and broken and nothing like joy.
You stumble toward the bar at the far end of the garden, pressing your hands to the wooden edge to steady yourself. The bartender doesnât ask questions, just hands you a glass filled to the brim, and you throw it back like itâs salvation. It burns, sharp and unrelenting, and you welcome the pain because at least itâs real.
The world is softer after that, edges blurring further, voices melding together in a gentle hum. You donât know how long you stand there, glass after glass, filling the hollow spaces with liquor and pretending itâs enough. It isnât. It never is.
You donât know how long it takes before Sirius and Remus find you, but itâs long enough for the world to tip sideways when they appear, Siriusâs hands steadying you before you can stumble back against the bar.
"There you are," Sirius says, voice soft and aching. His eyes search your face, and you see it thereâthe pity, the sadness. You laugh, a jagged sound that tastes like regret. "Come to join the party? Itâs a real fucking riot."
Remus steps forward, brows drawn tight with concern. "Maybe itâs time to get you some water," he suggests gently, reaching out to touch your arm. You pull back, shaking your head.
"Waterâs not gonna fix this," you slur, voice wobbling with the weight of it all. "You know what would fix this? If love wasnât the biggest goddamn joke in the universe. If I didnât just watch the two people Iâ" You stop, choke on the words like they might kill you. "If I didnât just watch them⊠holding hands. Smiling. Like I never even mattered."
Siriusâs face crumples, just a little, and you almost hate him for it. Almost. He reaches for you again, hands warm and steady. "You do matter," he says fiercely. "You always matter."
You laugh again, sharp and hollow. "Not to them," you whisper, and itâs not a sob, but itâs close.
"I was so fucking stupid. I thought⊠I thought there was something there. I thought when he touched my hand, it meant something. I thought when Barty smiled at me like that, it was because he wantedâ" The words are unraveling now, spilling out of you like a confession.
"I thought they loved me. Isnât that just the funniest fucking thing?"
Remusâs hand is on your back, rubbing slow circles that donât help, not really. "Itâs not funny," he says softly. "Itâs not funny at all."
Siriusâs jaw clenches, his eyes burning with something dark and fierce. "Youâre not stupid," he says firmly. "They love you. I know they do."
You shake your head, swallowing back the sob clawing its way up your throat. "No," you say, voice cracking. "No, they love each other. And IâIâm just the idiot who thought I could fit somewhere between them."
The silence stretches out, thin and brittle, and then Sirius pulls you into his chest, arms wrapping around you tightly. You shatter there, right there in his arms, with Remusâs hand still gentle on your back, and the world blurring away in the wake of your sobs.
And even as the tears fall, even as your heart splits open wide and ragged, you think of the way they looked at each otherâhow happy they were. And it hurts worse because you canât even hate them for it.
The sobs subside eventually, leaving you hollowed out and fragile in their wake. Sirius holds you until your breathing evens out, until the trembling fades from your hands. Remus lingers close by, silent and watchful, his gaze soft with sympathy that only makes the ache burrow deeper into your chest.
You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, the skin tender and raw. "I think I should go," you whisper, the words thick and unsteady. Sirius pulls back, his hands still steady on your shoulders.
"You sure?" he asks, voice gentle, and you nod, already stepping away. The world is too sharp around the edges, the music too loud, the lights too bright. You need space, airâanything but this suffocating blur of firewhiskey and regret.
"Iâll be fine," you say, though the words barely sound like yours. "I just⊠I just need to go."
Sirius looks like he wants to argue, but Remus rests a hand on his arm, shaking his head. "Let her breathe," he murmurs, and Siriusâs mouth snaps shut. His eyes are still heavy with concern, but he nods, finally stepping back.
You stumble back into the party, the warmth and noise pressing in on you from all sides. Itâs almost dizzying, and you weave through the crowd, head down, eyes blurry. You find Lily by the entrance, her red hair catching the light like a beacon. She turns the moment she sees you, concern knitting her brows together.
"Hey," she says softly, reaching out to steady you. "Are you alright?"
You nod, not trusting your voice. "Just tired," you murmur, and she doesnât look convinced, but she lets it go, pulling you into a tight hug.
"Want me to walk you back?" she asks, and you shake your head, forcing a smile.
"Iâm fine, Lily," you say, patting her arm gently. "Just need to sleep this off."
She hesitates, but before she can argue, a familiar voice cuts through the haze. "Leaving so soon?"
You freeze, every muscle locking up as you turn to see themâRegulus and Barty, side by side, framed in the doorway like something out of a fever dream. Bartyâs grin is wide and wicked, Regulusâs gaze sharp and piercing. They step forward in tandem, fluid and graceful, and you swallow hard, fingers curling into fists.
"Weâll walk you," Barty says easily, like itâs the most natural thing in the world. Heâs already moving forward, slipping past Lily with a grin thatâs all teeth. Regulus follows, hands tucked into his coat pockets, eyes fixed on you with an intensity that makes your heart stutter.
"You donât have to," you manage to say, the words scraping against your throat. "Iâm fine on my own."
Barty scoffs, throwing an arm around your shoulders like itâs the easiest thing in the world. "Nonsense," he laughs.
"Canât have you wandering around alone at this hour. What kind of friends would we be if we let that happen?"
Friends.
The word scrapes against something raw, and you flinch before you can stop yourself. You wrench out of his grip, taking a step back. "I said Iâm fine," you repeat, voice sharper this time.
Barty blinks, surprised, and Regulusâs eyes narrow, lips pressing into a thin line.
"Youâre clearly not," Regulus says quietly, his voice steady and calm. Itâs the same voice he always uses when youâre upsetâsoothing, patient, like heâs trying to coax the truth out of you.
But youâre done spilling truths tonight. You shake your head, fists clenched at your sides. "I donât want you walking me," you snap, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. "I donât want anything from you."
Bartyâs grin falters, his gaze flickering to Regulus, but Regulus just watches you, eyes sharp and unyielding. "Whatâs going on?" he asks, voice edged with something you donât want to name.
You shake your head, turning away before you can do something stupid like cry again. "Nothing," you whisper. "Nothing at all."
The night air bites at your cheeks as you step outside, the noise of the party muffled by the heavy oak doors that creak shut behind you. The silence is staggering, too loud in its emptiness, pressing in on your ears like a heartbeat gone wrong.
You barely make it to the courtyard before you hear footsteps behind you, hurried and unsteady.
"Wait!" Barty's voice cuts through the chill, sharp and breathless. You don't turn around. Your fists are clenched so tight your nails bite into your palms, but you don't care. The pain is a welcome distraction from the roaring in your ears.
"Please, amour" Regulus adds, softer, like he's afraid you might shatter if he speaks too loudly. You pause then, because it's him, and you can't quite bring yourself to keep walking. Not yet.
You spin around, the motion sharp and unkind. "What?" you snap, voice cracking at the edges. "What do you want? Haven't you done enough?"
They both falter, just for a moment. Barty glances at Regulus, eyes wide and searching, and Regulus's face is pale under the moonlight, shadows pooling beneath his eyes.
"We just wanted to make sure you got back alright," Regulus says quietly. His hands are still tucked into his coat pockets, but his shoulders are tense, braced for impact.
You laugh, the sound brittle and broken. "Oh, now you care? That's rich."
Barty steps forward, hands outstretched. "Of course we care," he says, and for once, his voice isnât dripping with sarcasm or wrapped in bravado. Itâs just himâbare and unguarded. "Youâre ourâ"
"Don't," you cut in, voice rising with every word. "Donât you dare. Save it. I donât need your pity."
Regulus flinches, but his gaze doesnât waver. "Soleil, please, let us just sit and talk" he says softly, like heâs stepping around shards of glass.
You stumble back a step, the world tipping dangerously. The alcohol is swimming in your veins, and itâs making everything too sharp, too bright. You swipe at your eyes, chest heaving. "You want to help?" you slur, voice cracking. "Then disappear. Both of you. JustâŠjust go."
"Weâre not leaving, tres" Barty says, his voice firm, unyielding. He takes another step forward, and you stagger back, nearly tripping over your own feet. The ground feels unsteady, like the earth itself is shifting beneath you.
"I can'tâ" You choke on the words, the tears coming fast and hot now. You stumble to the side of the street, knees hitting the pavement hard enough to sting. Your stomach lurches, and before you can stop it, youâre retching into the bushes, the world spinning wildly out of control.
Barty is there in an instant, holding your hair back, murmuring soft, frantic words you canât understand. Regulus kneels beside you, his hand a steady weight on your back, rubbing soothing circles as you gasp for breath.
"Iâm fine," you croak out, voice shredded and raw. Youâre notâyouâre so far from fine itâs laughable, but the words spill out anyway.
"No, youâre not," Regulus murmurs, voice achingly gentle. His eyes are wide, brimming with something like grief, and it only makes you cry harder. "Please, love, just talk to us"
You shove him off, the motion weak and clumsy. "You donât get it!" you cry, voice cracking open like a wound. "You donât get it, and you never will. I thoughtâ" Your breath hitches, and you laugh, a jagged, broken sound. "I thought there was something between us!."
Regulus's eyes glimmer under the moonlight, and he doesnât move back, even as you glare up at him. Barty's hand is still on your back, firm and grounding, and for once, heâs silent, just watching you with eyes that burn like fire.
"There is, gosh, there is" he whispers finally, voice splintered and soft. "I swear to you, just let us talk"
But you just shake your head, stumbling back to your feet. "No," you whisper, the word cracking on your tongue. "No. Ttop it, Regulus."
You stagger back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, eyes red-rimmed and aching. "I canât do this," you say, voice hollow and breaking. "Not right now"
They exchange a glance, unspoken words passing between them, but youâre already stumbling away, the world blurring at the edges. Your legs give out before you make it five steps, and you sink to the ground, sobs wracking your body with a violence that steals your breath. Itâs ugly and raw, the kind of crying that shatters something fragile in your chest.
Barty is beside you in an instant, arms coming around you, firm and grounding. Regulus is on your other side, his hand threading through your hair, murmuring soft, desperate words. But it only makes you sob harder, the noise broken and unrestrained.
"It wasnât supposed to be like this," you gasp out, voice strangled. "I thoughtâI thought youâ" You canât finish. You donât need to.
Bartyâs grip tightens, his forehead pressed to the side of your head. "Iâm so sorry," he whispers, voice cracking. Regulus's hand rubs gentle circles on your back, his eyes squeezed shut like it physically hurts him to watch you cry.
You donât stop. You canât. The sobs come faster, harder, until youâre gasping for breath between them, your body trembling from the force of it.
You cry until your throat is raw, until your eyes burn, until the stars above blur and fade. And still, they donât let go.
Not for one second.
The sobs quiet, fading into broken breaths and the hollow ache that lingers like a bruise. Bartyâs hands are steady on your back, Regulusâs fingertips brush the edge of your jaw, lingering for just a moment too long before they fall away. You pull back, slow and deliberate, slipping from their warmth like waking from a dream.
Neither of them stops you. Regulusâs hand drops first, and then Bartyâs, both of them watching with shadows in their eyesâheavy and unspoken. You donât look back. You canât.
Your footsteps are soft against the pavement, the night stretching out in front of you, long and empty. Streetlights flicker above, casting fractured light over cracked concrete and the breath of distant city sounds. Your hands shake as you press them to your sides, curling into fists to keep them from trembling.
At the end of the street, heâs waiting. Sirius leans against the lamppost, arms crossed over his chest, a cigarette dangling forgotten between his fingers. His gaze softens the moment he sees you, and he straightens, tossing the cigarette to the curb and crushing it under his heel.
He doesnât say anything, just opens his arms like heâs been waiting for you to fall apart.
You donât hesitate. You collapse into him, his coat smelling like smoke and winter rain, familiar and grounding. His arms come around you, strong and unyielding, one hand cradling the back of your head like he used to do when you were small and scraped your knees.
He doesnât speak, just lets you cryâsilently, violentlyâinto the worn leather of his coat. His hand rubs slow circles along your back, his chin resting atop your head. When the shaking subsides, you pull back just enough to look up at him, your eyes red-rimmed and aching.
Sirius brushes a stray tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb, his expression unbearably gentle. âYouâre gonna be okay, you know,â he says, voice rough but steady. âEven when it doesnât feel like it. Especially then.â
Your breath hitches, and he gives you that crooked smile, the one thatâs always held more tenderness than it has any right to. âIâve got you. Always.â
You nod, the motion shaky, and he pulls you back in, his embrace tightening just a little bit more. His voice drops to a murmur, low and almost to himself. âI promise youâll be okay.â
You freeze in his arms, the words sinking into the marrow of your bones, hollow and aching. But his grip does not falter, if anything, it tightens, like he is holding you together by sheer force of will.
You press your face into his shoulder, eyes slipping shut, letting the words settle, jagged and unyielding.
It hits different when it is them, like clutching at something that was never real, love slipping through your fingers like smoke, a beautiful lie unraveling in your hands.