#omtl

There’s a ringing—the kettle, Sirius thinks numbly—shrieking, shrill, drowning out the voices around him until they sound like they're underwater and maybe he's underwater, too, actually, because he can't breathe and his vision’s gone a bit fucked and that blasted ringing won't stop and he feels his magic sparking at his fingertips because he'll make it stop if it's- “Padfoot, hey!" James has both hands on Sirius’s face and he's holding a little tighter than is comfortable and he's shaking him, and Sirius has come up for air in short, panting exhales. His mother is dead. Dead. Like, dead dead. Tapestry dead. Official. Huh.  A weight settles on his shoulders, smothering and hot like a wet blanket in a fire (he and James got up to some dumb fucking shit without Moony at Hogwarts, he's well aware) as he realizes he's Lord Black now. The Family is his to run, or destroy. Morgana's matted minge.  His brother's face is grim, and probably looks unexpressive to all but Sirius (and Kingsley, he supposes). He's stoic, but there's a flicker of justice lurking behind his silver eyes, at war with the sour sting of pain at losing a parent. While Sirius was an active disappointment to his mother (and did nothing at all to correct that after a few fruitless years), she and Regulus…were usually fairly civil, even with the whole Beta thing and the whole Kingsley thing. Regulus got treated to quite a few years of Walburga’s favor once Sirius fell out of it, and though they were by no means a loving family, she was still family. Blood.  But Sirius knows better than to draw any attention to Regulus’s emotions in the presence of others, so he sweeps his questions and empathy under a metaphoric rug and straightens his spine. “Guess I'm to plan a funeral then."  “Padfoot-" Remus begins, but Sirius shrugs off his questioning hand.  “Not entirely sure about the whole no body thing, though. Bit worried she's going to haunt us, yeah?"  The look Kingsley gives him would be chilling, if Sirius wasn't riding a weird combination of mania and adrenaline. “Not going to be an issue."  "Well that's one problem solved,” Sirius says with a shrug. He'd consider offing himself if his harpy of a mother had unlimited access to him as a fucking ghost. No thanks. "Pad-” "What? It was valid,” Sirius defends, rolling his eyes at James. Honestly. "Never planned a funeral do before, and Circe knows Walburga didn't hold one for Orion or uncle Alphard, so-” His voice catches a little, still plagued by the fresh knowledge of what happened to Alphard, how it's all swirling together with the reality of his life and Regulus's and the life he'll never be able to create, and- “So I'll just wing it, then. Can't be too hard." Shove it down, deep, deep down, deal with it maybe later, maybe never, that was Sirius's way. 

But also, YES! Remus kisses both of them in chapter 3, and James and Sirius are kissing each other at least in chapter 2. And they go from kissing to sex *real* fast. So, if a little action is your line, there is plenty of sex in this fic. Too much, one might say. (Not me. I'd never say such a thing).

Lyall has a bloody tuft of grey fur from the night of the attack, ripped from the werewolf's body with a severing curse. It should have removed his entire fucking head, but werewolf pelts are curse resistant, and even Lyall's most powerful spell barely made a dent. But Greyback isn't in his werewolf state now. He's without that protective pelt, as vulnerable as any other human. But his blood is the same. And with his blood, Lyall can track him. He's always had a curiosity about dark, old magics, the ones locked away in the Restricted Section at Hogwarts and behind authorization charms at the Ministry. He wasn't a Ravenclaw for nothing, after all. All knowledge is worth having, and so long as the actions he takes with that knowledge don't hurt anyone, what's the harm? His security clearance at the Ministry gives him access to just about anything he could think to ask for, and it's that privilege more than a passion for his job that keeps Lyall working there. He has a thirst for knowledge that has yet to be quenched, and magic that the Ministry has labeled "dark" is the most intriguing. Tonight, he uses a technique from one of the ancient Nordic tribes to extract the clotted blood from the fur into a mortar, followed by several drops of his own that he drips in to beat of a rhythmic chant spoken low in his throat. Poured over a panel of undyed acromantula silk, the blood bleeds through the fabric in the shape of a magical forest Lyall knows well, one the Muggles don't know about, that backs up against the steep cliffs of Dover.  He Apparates to the nearest wizarding town some twenty miles away and cuts through the sparse woods down to the coast. He’s unguided, he knows, searching for a phantom, a single man in all of the forest, which Greyback knows better than Lyall. He could be anywhere, lurking in the trees, waiting. But Lyall has damned good intuition. He may not be an Auror, but he knows how to follow clues and trusts his instinct that, the further he gets away from his family’s home, burns and burgeons back into that wildfire of rage he felt the night Remus was attacked.  By some benevolent gift of the universe (and his own unmatched skill), Lyall finds the monster. As he’d expected and hoped, Greyback had stuck to the more uninhabitable edge of the forest that faces the cliff’s edge, whether out of preference or because he was too feral to be close to humans. He's in a dilapidated cabin, barely held together by magic, and though it looks ramshackle and ill-defended, Lyall knows better than to underestimate Greyback. He's eluded the Aurors for years, but they have to follow the rules, have to use sanctioned means. Follow protocol. Lyall is not bound by such formalities. 

C/W: violence, revenge, Greyback being a monster, guilty thoughts, playing fast and loose with certain mythologies.

Enjoy! Come back and tell me what you think! 💖💖💖

"Y'r Prong is pokin' me." Remus squirms in his hold, his arse rubbing most distractingly against James's dick. "M'sleep… but y'can…" Remus lifts his leg a little, but trails off after some more incoherent mutters, and James has to tamp down hard on his giggles. Godric, but he's cute. The quasi-offer is tempting, but James is pretty sure Remus will be up for something later on. Besides, he's hungry, and if Remus is up for something, James is going to need his strength! Pregnant Omegas are wonderfully demanding.

Read the entire chapter here.

I know Krethes is working through the next chapter, though we don't have an update on when it will be posted. In the mean time, can I suggest my friends @charmstwit and PidgeononaCloud's new wolfstarbucks omegaverse fic Stay with Me? I'm obsessed with it, and if you like OMTL, I think you'll like it too.