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elenatries2write · 1 year

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𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒖𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 - 𝑮𝒆𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒆 𝑾𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒚 𝒙 𝑺𝒍𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏!𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 (𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 1)

George Weasley x Slytherin!Reader

Fluff/angst

request: yes/no

summary: After not having seen your ex-boyfriend in eight years, you reunite. It’s clear your feelings for him haven’t change, but have his?

tw: none really; uh, fluff/angst? Talk about past relationships

note: Reader uses she/her pronouns; based on Persuasion by Jane Austen; (Y/N/N) = nickname

The heart is a fragile aspect of one's life. You say or do the wrong thing and it can break — shattered to nothing but dust, waiting for either the person who broke it in the first place to heal it or for someone new to come and pick up the pieces. I have yet to reach either of these outcomes.

Being born a pureblood Slytherin, I was never in control of my own life. My clothing, my interests, my future — the only element of my life I ever felt like I had free rein was with the man I chose to love: George Weasley.

To me, George was my everything. He was my best friend, my shoulder to cry on, the first person to support me in any of my passions. I loved him, and I knew he loved me. The happiest moment of my life was probably the day he asked me to the Yule Ball — if not the day he first kissed me. He was the only person who ever truly saw and understood me for who I was and not for who I was forced to be.

“And then he said he ‘found someone else’. Can you believe that?” the women sitting across from me exasperated.

Mae Lark. For the first eleven years of my life, she was my governess. After I left for Hogwarts, my father let her go, but she remained consistent in my life. Rather than my governess, she became my close friend. She became a second mother to me; and in some ways, she became more of a mother to me than my own mother. She was the person I turned to whenever I needed advice or comfort. The only advice she gave me that I regretted ever listening to was involving the love of my life.

I knew George’s family was considered traitorous to the other purebloods, and I also knew his family did not come from grand riches like my family. But that never mattered to me. I loved him for who he was, and I knew he was brilliant enough to accomplish exceptional things if he put his mind to it. Perhaps if Mae had not persuaded me to make such a decision, he would still be mine.

“(Y/N). (Y/N)!” Her calls brought me back from my thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter, embarrassment residing on my face. I must have zoned out again. “What were you saying?”

“I was just letting you know I met a bright young man the other day. He owns an estate not too far from here,” she informs, suggestively. However, encouraging me to broaden my interests only brings up the past, and it was unmistakably evident on my face. “Oh, please, dear. Don’t tell me you still think of him like that. It’s been seven years.”

“Eight, actually.”

After graduation, George and his twin brother, Fred, opened their joke shop in Diagon Alley. As far as I know, not much has changed there. Sure, the war caused some setbacks, but their store still stands bright and active. I have yet to actually walk inside, though I have thought about doing so many times.

“Why do you still hold on? Since you left him, he has made no advance to claim you back.”

“Because,” I begin. “I broke his heart.”

“You will find someone who’s meant for you and loves you enough to fight for you. Your friend called earlier,” Mae promptly diverges from the difficult subject — a wise decision, if you ask me. “That Parkinson girl, what was her name?” “Pansy?”

“Ah, yes, Pansy Parkinson. She was asking for you, saying to let you know she’ll be in Diagon Alley if you wanted to join her. I think you should go. It might do you good.”

Shopping with Pansy felt routine at this point. I’d follow her into a jewelry store, and she’d tag along when I drift into a bookstore; I’d listen, and she’d talk about anything and everything.

Currently, I was browsing the shelf of muggle fairytales while Pansy continues to gossip about some rumor about Draco and Astoria’s marriage. As I turn the corner, I suddenly bump into someone. It took me by surprise, causing me to stumble back and lose my balance. The stranger lightly grasps my forearm, but it was enough to help me not fall to the ground.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there! I… (Y/N)?” His voice was uncomfortably familiar.

I look up to see the same red locks I was so used to. He hasn’t changed a bit — he was just as tall as the last time I saw him; though his hazel eyes now held subtle confusion, I can tell they still radiate that boyish humor he was so well-known for. Merlin, he’s still insanely attractive. The only prominent difference I could see was the laugh marks that circled his eyes.

“George,” I greeted curtly. I avoided eye contact as best as I could.

“…Long time no see. Uh- y-you look well.”

“You, too. You look the same. Well, not the same- I- I mean, you still look handsome.”

“You- uh… you, too. Well- pretty. You look pretty.”

The air grows thick; an uncomfortable silence overcomes us. It was nearly unbearable. I avoid his meek stare as best as I can, opting to focus on the meaningless patterns of the wooden floor.

Thankfully, the awkward stillness was interrupted.

“(Y/N), are you listening?” Pansy reappears from behind the shelf and stands by my side.

“What was that?” I inquire, not having listened to her gossip in the last ten minutes.

“Oh, George!” she squeals gleefully. Despite her and most of the Slytherins’ past squabble with most Gryffindors and non-pureblood supremacists, there was an unspoken reconcile after the war. “It’s been forever! What have you been up to?”

“Oh, well, I-”

“I was just telling (Y/N) about the guy who works at the new shop down the alley. Uh… Ayers…?” She abruptly interrupts, struggling to remember the details. “Benjamin Ayer! He seems really nice and charming. He’s pretty handsome, too. It’s not every day you meet a pureblood as sweet as him. Anyway, what are you doing here?” Oh, Pansy — just as excitable as she always has been.

“Uh, I was just-“ He reaches for a random book to his right. “Just getting this book, and then I saw (Y/N). It was nice seeing you both… really, it was,” he finishes, eyes lingering on my stiff figure just a little longer before continuing. “Fred, Lee, and Angelina are back at the shop. I’m sure they’d love to see you again.”

“Oh, well I’m spending the day with Pansy, and-“

“Don’t worry, (Y/N/N)! I don’t mind! It’d be great for you to catch up with them. Besides, I was planning on meeting Daphne later today anyways,” my ebony-haired friend cuts me off.

“I guess I can come then,” I say, my tight-lipped smile hopefully masking the feeling of dread I now have. And with that, he leads me out of the store — not without purchasing the book he grabbed, of course.

As I watched him ambling by my side, I can’t help but replay the painfully embarrassing reunion in my head. He and I used to be so in sync; others would hardly ever see us apart back at Hogwarts. Now, we are complete and utter strangers — worse than strangers, actually. We are exes.

As I enter the tall joke shop — the shop having an encapsulating aura of joy and warmth, I must add — I am immediately met with the welcoming sight of Fed Weasley smiling from ear to ear the moment he caught a glimpse of me.

“(Y/N) (Y/L)!” he hollers from behind the cashier before running to tackle me in a colossal hug.

“What’s all the ruckus?” a familiar voice calls from the back.

Once the two characters — Angelina and Lee — come to the front and see me, they both exclaim, “(Y/N)!” and run to join the bear hug.

“…hi,” I manage to make out, the tight group hug seemingly halting my breathing.

“Merlin, let the poor girl breathe,” George chuckles from behind us.

“Right, sorry,” Fred apologizes as the three of them release their hold.

“It’s alright.”

“Merlin’s beard, we haven’t seen you in ases,” Lee exaggerates.

“How’s it been?” Angelina politely inquired, contrasting Lee and Fred’s boisterous manners.

“It’s been… fine.” Salazar, as if my uncomfortable greeting with George wasn’t enough discomfort for one day.

We spent the majority of the afternoon catching up and reminiscing about our times together at Hogwarts. After a little while, the boys got back to work — seeing as there was still a shop to run with a sea of customers — and left me and Angelina to hang out in the back. Much to my dismay, the topic of conversation took a turn when she started talking about him — the man who’s heart I’m sure I had completely ruptured eight years ago.

“So, I suppose it’s been nice to see George again?”

I hesitate to answer. In all honesty, it has been. To see those eyes again, that smile after all these years — it’s refreshing, really. But there is also this rising guilt every time I look at him.

“I suppose so,” I utter.

“I mean,” she continues, “the way he looks at you — even now — it’s like nothing’s changed. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he still has feelings for you.”

I nearly chuckle at that. “Please, Angie, that’s ridiculous.”

“I’m serious, (Y/N)! I saw how he was with you today. That isn’t the look of someone who is just catching up with an old friend. What if I set you two up on a date?”

“What? Angeli-“

She cuts me off and continues spewing out hypothetical plans for a date that will never happen. There is absolutely no way he would ever agree to this. Truthfully, it is wishful thinking on her part. Knowing Angie, I know her heart is the right place, making sure that two of her friends are happy; but a date with George? That’s chasing a fantasy.

“He’s single and I’m assuming you are, too. Sure it’s been years, but as they say, ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder.’ I mean, just think of it-“

This time she is interrupted by the boys returning from the front of the shop.

“So we were just thinking…” George begins.

“That’s never a good sign with you three,” I tease, almost as if we were sixteen again. It felt so… familiar — for lack of better words — to joke like this.

“Hey, hear us out,” Fred defends, both arms raised in surrender.

Lee cuts in, noticeably far too excited to wait any longer. “We were all going to spend a week on holiday at the lake by Angelina’s house and thought that — if you are free, of course — wanted to join us.”

This appears to light a spark in Angelina’s eyes as she widens her already-consistent smile. “That’s a great idea! (Y/N), what do you think?”

“…Oh. This is very sudden.” I understand how close we were before and how seemingly effortless it was for all of us to reconcile after so long, but it’s been years. How did we go from catching up about our jobs and family life to going away on holiday together in just two hours?

“I mean,” George began, his voice unusually quiet for him. “If you can’t, that’s totally fine.”

“Oh, please, (Y/N)!” my enthusiastic friend persists. “You must come! Surely, you can make it!”

“I-i think I might be free,” I give in, hesitantly. As much as I dread the thought of spending so much time with the very man who’s heart I broke — who has clearly yet to forgive me, seeing how distant he has been since our reunion — something about revisiting the past — at least, the better memories of the past — just pulled me in.

After getting settled into the lake house, the five of us head to the lake to relax. I avoid George as much as I could. There was still a lingering awkward atmosphere between the two of us that neither of us are willing to indulge in.

I watch from the sidelines as Angelina and George laugh together near the lake’s bank. Despite her previous efforts in attempting to bring back the past and insinuating that we get back together, I would have to be naïve to not notice the way she looks at him — and maybe even the way he looks back at her. I know he is not mine to cherish as I used to, but the reality of it all still stings.

Back in our shared room — the night sky glistening outside the window and nothing more than a flickering candle providing any bit of light in the room — Angelina and I continue to catch up about our years spent apart in hushed tones. It is evident in her voice that she feels differently than she’s claimed whenever we bring up George or a similar topic.

I say this with all the love in my heart that I hold for both my childhood best friend and for the love of my life: I hope they have a happy life together, no matter how much it hurts me.

It was now well into the night. Angelina has been dormant for, at least, an hour now; yet my body lies on my bed, my eyes fixated at the ceiling, while my mind runs a marathon. I know I am not going to get any sleep any time soon, so I quietly make my way out of the room — cautiously, to not wake anyone — and head for the lake. I take a seat just at the shore of the lake, pulling my knees to my chest because of the cold.

“I didn’t realize you were you out here.”

The low voice startles me. I turn to see George standing right behind me. How long has he been there?

“Sorry,” he begins. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just couldn’t sleep.”

I turn my gaze back to the lake before answering, “Me neither.”

“…May I?” he timidly gestures to the spot next to me.

“Oh, yes.”

He takes a seat at my consent before speaking again. “Look, love.”

It’s been a while since I’ve heard that coming from him. I detest how it still makes my stomach churn any time it’s him calling me “love”.

He continues, “I know things haven’t exactly been… normal between us.”

“What gave you that idea?” The sarcasm ran thick like tar.

“(Y/N), come on. It doesn’t have to be like this. That was all in the past.”

“What are you saying, George?” Frustration lightly laces my voice. “We should just forget about it like it never happened?”

“That’s not- (Y/N)… what I’m saying is that we should make amends. Maybe this is the closure we both need.”

My eyes meet his; the same glistening brown eyes that seem to be holding the planets staring back at mine.

“I’d like that,” I bashfully respond, my mouth reacting against my will.

“Great!” he beams, enthusiastically. “This is really great. I’m so glad to still have you in my life after how long it’s been. Even though we’re not… you know… together, you still mean the world to me.”

He pulls me into a tight hug — not the type of hug that would make you melt but the type that two close friends would share.

Before now, I could not possibly fathom that we could be anything worse than exes; however, being proven wrong by the universe appears to be a common occurrence in my life. Now we are no longer exes; we are friends.

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sunnami · 3 months

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❝i am half-agony, half-hope. . . i have loved none but you.❞

summary: how the marauders loved you in their time. featuring harry potter the time-traveller and sixth-wheel.

pairing/s: poly!marauders x reader. (james potter x reader, lily evans x reader, remus lupin x reader, and sirius black x reader.)

tags: reader is referred to as she/her and a mother throughout the whole fic[!], reader is a violent gremlin who craves blood but the marauders love you for that, implied child abuse[!], mentions of blood and violence[!], disgustingly sappy poetic fluff, no angst, happy ending, not proofread we die like finnick odair, edited: very minor detail.

note: there is little plot, it’s just the marauders and their adoration for you. thank you all so much for your kind responses to my first marauders fic :(( ilysm! i hope you enjoy this one as well! because there are parts when i was writing that i ended up kicking my feet in the air and smiling to myself.

“MY NAME IS HARRY POTTER. I come from twenty-years in the future, you’re my mum — one of my ‘em, actually. It’s complicated. And you’re married to James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black.”

You blink.

“Get the fuck out of my room!”

Harry James Potter has dodged many things in his life. Killing curses, jinxes, girls, Draco Malfoy, and Dudley’s sloppy punches, but he’s never had to dodge his sixteen-year-old mother’s fuzzy slipper before. (Godric, that sounds weird, even in his head.) He doesn’t know precisely how he arrived here. In the Slytherin common room, to be exact, in your dorm. Harry remembers duelling with Death Eaters, Hermione calling his name, and a flash of light hitting him square in the chest, then he remembers waking up in the cold tiles of the snake dungeon. He nearly throws himself off the window when he meets your eyes, bleary from interrupted sleep — it’s not often he gets to meet [read: one of] his dead parents, after all, three had been brutally murdered by Voldemort, and one killed by his own loony cousin. He misses Sirius, though. A lot. And right about now, he could do with some of Hermione’s nagging and brilliant plan-making.

At present — or past, Harry guesses — he watches you scramble out from your duvet, hand clumsily reaching for your wand as you snarl at him. He wonders if his mother knows that he’s encountered other creatures far more threatening than her. Oh shit, he realizes with all the forces of an angry Hermione Granger, isn’t this the last thing he’s supposed to do? But, well, Harry has given, and given, so much of himself all for the greater good — just this once, he’d like to see his parents alive and well. Even if they were currently trying to blast him into the walls.

“If you’d just let me explain, mum—!” Harry pleads, nearly dropping his glasses after dodging one of your stinging hexes. Godric, you’re crazy. “Please!”

“Stop calling me that!” You screech, eyes set ablaze. Harry finds that you’re quite dynamic with your attacks. A hairbrush, followed by a stinging jinx, then a thick History of Magic textbook — which rudely hits him in the face, but he doesn’t dare complain because you’re his mother, and he’s respectful like that — and after you’ve exhausted your breath, running him into a corner, and your nostrils flare with the stubbornness of a lion, you point the tip of your wand at him. “If this is another one of the Prewett’s shitty pranks, I want you to leave! You are in the girls’ dormitory beyond midnight, and so help me, if you aren’t walking out that door in the next five seconds, I will kill you and string you up by your bottoms for everyone in school to see! Maybe all your stupid rumours of me being a Death-Eater might come true after all!”

“You’re a Death-Eater?” Harry asks dumbly.

You growl furiously, and Harry figures that was not the right thing to say. “I wonder what McGonagall would say if I delivered your head to her on a silver platter.”

“Professor,” Harry corrects with a toothy grin. “Professor McGonagall.”

You slam his head against the wall.

Definitely the wrong thing to say.

Harry groans, little Dobby heads floating around his vision. Why was this so much harder than actually facing Voldemort? Quick, he needed to think of something, otherwise he’d end up eviscerated to ashes on your cold, stone floors. Harry is pretty sure you’d use his remains as decoration to send off a message to your enemies.

“You hate your father,” Harry slurs through the pain, remembering Remus’s stories of how you were the gentlest magical being he’s ever had the privilege to love — now that Harry thinks about it, Remus was being extremely biased, nothing about you is gentle at all. “He’s forcing you to marry someone old enough to be your grandfather. You love to read Muggle literature but had to stop when your father burnt your whole collection of books. Your favorite novel is Persuasion by Jane Austen. It’s the one book you carry with you everywhere, you could never get tired of it.”

Your grip on his shoulders falters, but the fury in your eyes crackles. “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s not meant to be funny, mum,” Harry croaks, voice cracking pathetically — strange how this is the most he’s ever uttered the word, mum; it’s a peculiar string of letters, foreign on his tongue. “You have tremors in your left leg from when your father cast the Cruciatus curse on you. One of your dearest friends is a Hogwarts house-elf named Pipley. You cheated on your Transfiguration essay once, and—”

“That’s enough!” You bark, eyes narrowed in dangerous slits. “I don’t know where you heard those from, you creepy, little stalker, but if you want to keep breathing, then I suggest you shut up.”

Harry scoffs — you don’t understand. Everything he’s learned about you is from Sirius and Remus. They talk about you with whispered devotion, your name like a prayer on their lips, their eyes glazed with wistfulness as though they could see you reaching out for them — but you were dead in Harry’s time. Yet, you might as well have been alive with their tales of you.

(“She’s a different kind of beautiful,” Sirius had said, a year after breaking out from Azkaban, sitting by the fire in Grimmauld Place, taking a swig of decade-old firewhiskey, “The kind of beautiful you don’t want to take your eyes off from because you’re afraid she’ll disappear from your eyes. But you won’t forget her, oh no, you’ll memorize the freckles and moles on her skin, the scars from her years, the light in her eyes, and the way she holds her head up high. You should have seen her, James, she. . . she was — is glorious.”)

“I told you,” says Harry firmly — although he loves his mother very much, she’s beginning to wear him out, “My name is Harry James Potter, I come from twenty-years in the future. You are one of my parents.” A lightbulb flashes in his head. He squirms in your hold, reaching for his robe pocket until he finds the thing he’s looking for. Harry dangles the ring in front of you, grinning in success when your eyes flash in recognition. “It’s—”

“A family heirloom,” You say breathlessly. The alexandrite winks under the light, a familiar gold band with the Latin inscription of your House words. “Where did you steal this from?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “You left it for me in my Gringotts vault. It’s my heirloom now. You have to believe me, there’s no way you can deny this.”

You take a step backwards, nibbling on your lower lip, as you stagger to your bed — Harry nearly stumbling to catch you in case you fell; adjusting to the living proof of time travel was quite difficult, he, of all people, should know. He exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “Magic, amirite?”

You throw a pillow at him, which he catches gracefully thanks to his Seeker reflexes, as you plop down in the comforts of your quilts. “Sleep. The other girls won’t be back until the end of the holiday. We can deal with whatever this is in the morning. It’s way too early for me to process the idea of a future Potter spawn following me around.”

Harry smiles. “Yes, mum.”

ONE THING THAT his fathers failed to tell him about you, and that Harry had to learn himself, was that you took ages to get ready. You sat on the chair in front of your vanity mirror, the birch wood legs whittled with snakes, and it was as though you had a Sticking Charm on the cushion. Harry didn’t know there could be so many creams, oils, and serums, and powders one put on their face. He blanches when you turn to offer him a cream for his under eyes. (“Suit yourself.” You shrug, turning to brush your cheek with dusts of pink. “Just saying, those dark circles aren’t doing you any favors.”)

“What am I like in the future?” You ask, a kind lilt to your voice, much like a warm hug, much like home.

Harry stiffens, shoving his hands in pockets of the robes that were twice his size — you had given him the garments of Lucius Malfoy to change in, which you apparently had stolen from his room. It’s come full circle, really, the Sorting Hat had once told him he would be great in Slytherin, and now here he was, looking fabulous in green — because he was about to hurl at the feel of the velvet on his skin, knowing slimy Lucius Malfoy had worn it. (“No son—” You pause with a tight purse in your lips, as if you still can’t accept the fact. Harry doesn’t blame you. “—no son of mine will be parading around in red of all colors, future or not.” And Harry finds that he really doesn’t care, so long as you call him your son.)

“Loved,” replies Harry gruffly, avoiding your eyes in the reflection of your mirror — they were piercing. One look and Harry wanted to spill all of his deepest, darkest secrets. He remembers the photographs in his album, the one he’s stared at so many times as a child. It’s a moving photograph of the five of you, fresh out of Hogwarts, each wearing a smile that stretched from ear-to-ear. Before Sirius and Remus, it was the only semblance of proof that Harry had — that you had once been alive. Remus is holding you by the waist in the picture, twirling you around as autumn leaves fell. You were — are — loved, and Harry thinks there’s no better description than that.

(“I bloody hated her cat,” says Remus with a roguish quirk to his lips, regalling Harry with more talks of his parents. “Sirius, too. We just never got along with the little creature. But your mother loved it, and we would have done anything to make her happy. She deserved it, you see. She deserved more than what I had to offer her, but still she chose me anyway. And I am a selfish man, Harry, I crave glimpses of her and the whispers of her voice. She has made me a mad man whose only reprieve is her touch.”)

You hum knowingly. “Stupid question, I guess. Since you aren’t allowed to reveal anything more about the future.” You sigh, gracefully threading your arms in the sleeves of your shirt, a green tie in the center of your collar. “Except, of course, when you gave me a heart attack in the middle of the night by telling me the last thing I want to become — no offense, I just don’t see how a relationship with those rowdy bunch would work. They get on my nerves far too much for me to ever feel anything other than disgust.”

Harry doesn’t need a mirror to see that his expression has contorted in confusion; brows knitted and upper lip crinkled. By their memories of you, you all were madly in love in Hogwarts. Damn. This just made his trip to the past a lot harder. No maze seems to be ever just a maze.

Luckily, you don’t notice him brewing a grand master plan to bring his parents together. Instead, you say, “But you don’t seem to be phased by any of this. If I had been thrown twenty years into the past, I would have puked my guts out twice at some point.”

“Thanks for the image,” says Harry with a scowl. Truthfully, it had either been a present with a noseless Dark Lord to face, trauma to unpack but really never have the chance to, or a past where all of his parents were alive, and a chance to talk with them for however long he has. He knows where he’ll be staying, thank you very much.

“Anytime,” You reply with an impish smile.

Your heels pad across the floor as you walk over to him, mouth clicking as you pat the top of his head, full of wild, untameable Potter hair. “You need a trim soon,” You mutter, frowning, as you brush the thick strands away from his eyes, then you gasp — and Harry knows exactly what’s coming next. “Oh, you’ve got Evans’s eyes. That’s freaky.”

“I know.” Harry grins.

“Here’s the plan,” You say as you lead him out of your room, making sure no one saw him walking out of your door and getting the wrong impression — because that would be so wrong on many levels, but also, explaining to someone else that the person beside you was a time-traveller was just complicated in general. The Slytherin dungeon is unfamiliarly familiar, eerily quiet, as the two of you made your way out. “Just say you’re Potter’s distant relative, twice or thrice removed, and you’ve always been here. If you lie to their faces enough, they’ll believe it eventually.”

“Will that work?” Harry doesn’t really mind — he needs a connection to James, his father, if he’s going to work out a connection between you and the others, because at the moment, it doesn’t seem like you’re too fond of them. There’s a tick on your jaw every time you mumble the word, Potter. Nevertheless, Harry decides he’s going to spend the duration of the holiday break trying to set you up with them — on the list of most insane things he’s ever done, living out the Parent Trap was high up the tally.

You shrug. “They’ve fallen for less.”

(“She’s got this adorable habit when she lies,” Sirius tells Harry, whipping up a stack of pancakes for their breakfast — Remus browsing through the morning paper. It’s the closest he’s ever been to a normal family. “It’s not obvious to her, of course, but I know her more than I know my own name. So we play along with it.” For a moment, he stops drizzling the maple syrup on the well-cooked batter, gazing at Remus fondly. “D’you remember that, Moony? She led us straight to one of her pranks, and we ended up covered in slug slime. She was so obvious — with her adorable fucking giggles. I need help with Charms, she said, and we knew right away it was a set-up. But it didn’t matter. I’d happily let her lead me to my ruin.”)

The Great Hall is the same as Harry remembers. Now that most have returned home for the holidays, those who stay back mingle with students from other Houses, sharing meals under the bewitched ceiling, their low murmurs and hushed Christmas greetings bouncing off the walls. Harry scours the four tables to find a hint of blazing red hair, or the scent of impending trouble. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to search very far. As fate would have it, James Potter finds you — and where he is, Sirius Black is sure to follow.

You’re barely seated when James comes bounding over to your table — more precisely, he struts, and Harry is horrified to ever be proven wrong by Snape, of all people. He ignores the roll of your eyes as he drags a leg over the bench, sitting to face you as Sirius occupies the space to your left before Harry can even sit down. He can’t even fathom how weird it is to see his parents as rambunctious teenagers. Lovesick, rambunctious teenagers.

“Morning, dove.” James preens under your glare, stealing a grape from your bowl with a boyish smirk. His hair looks as though he’s ran his hand through it many times. “You look ravishing today.”

“As always,” Sirius pipes in. “But that eyeshadow really isn’t complementing your skin tone, my darling.”

You smile at him, right before your lips twist into a cutthroat sneer. “Piss off, Black.”

James stifles a laugh as he shovels a mass of potatoes on your plate, then pumpkin pasties, and slides a steaming cup of Dragon Well tea in front of you.

“What the hell are you doing, Potter?” You reach over to smack his arm when he sprinkles apple slices and bacon on your breakfast.

“What does it look like?” James smiles lopsidedly. “You need to eat more, honey.”

(In the future, Sirius will tell Harry, “It started off as a joke, a way to get on her nerves — but then, it just became this thing about taking care of her, making sure she got enough sleep before her tests, wondering if she had breakfast or dinner, staying with her in the library, walking her to the Slytherin common room, and sending her stupid notes just to make her laugh. You don’t get it, Harry. I’d give my every breath to ensure her life. We all would.” Harry doesn’t see Sirius any more during that evening, but he hears a bottle crashing against a wall, cracking into a million pieces, and the masked sound of Sirius sobbing, and Harry decides to leave him alone for the night.)

Then, you tear your eyes away from James — he huffs, pushing your plate to you, mildly annoyed that you’ve deprived him of your eyes; they were his favorite part of you, you see, so expressive and full of life; James thinks you put the stars to shame — and thankfully, you remember that Harry still exists. You lightly smack Sirius’s leg until he gives Harry some room to sit. “Potter, meet other Potter. It’s the holidays, shouldn’t it be the perfect time to let go of House prejudices and spend time with family?”

James looks at Harry up and down. “You must be from dad’s side of the family with all that hair.”

Harry lets out a breath of relief. That was easy — way too easy. When he takes the vacant space in between you and Sirius, you dump all the available food on his plate, just as James had done for you.

“Eat,” You say with a tone of finality. “You look like the wind could snap you in half.”

“Yes, m—” Harry stops himself before he could finish his sentence, avoiding Sirius’s curious gaze.

“Wow.” Sirius pokes Harry in the shoulder and in the cheek. “You really look like a mini-James, you’ve even got his terrible eyesight.”

“Oi!”

Your fork clatters against the silverware as you turn to Sirius with a shrill. “Not that I do enjoy your company — because, trust me, I do not want you here at all and would very much prefer if you got out of my sight — but why are you here? The Gryffindor table is over there. Unless your housemates finally got sick of you, Potter, which I can definitely see happening.”

James chuckles, tossing another grape in his mouth without taking his eyes off you. “It’s as you said, isn’t it? It’s the time for putting aside House prejudices. And I think it’s a lovely day to enjoy a meal with my favorite snake.”

“Drop dead,” You retort, digging into your chicken with a little more force than necessary.

“Oh, dove.” James shakes his head, a teasing grin pulling at his lips. “It’s cute that you think death will keep me from you.”

(Harry’s been told before, probably by Sirius, that this line had been wedged into his wedding vows for you. “A dramatic one, James was,” Sirius chuckles to himself one morning, Harry and Hermione listening intently, “He always said he’d rather die than ever hurt her. There was this time in seventh year, they had a fight — it was ugly — and she had ignored him for a week. James cried in Remus’s arms begging him to cut his heart out, saying that he didn’t deserve to keep on breathing, not after making you cry.”)

“That is so creepy,” You say in disgust, scrunching your nose. Sirius chortles at your side. “I still wonder why Evans agreed to go out with you.”

“It’s all part of the charm, dove.” James winks. “It’s all part of the charm.”

Harry wants to barf, actually.

After breakfast, James then decides to introduce Harry to Lily, Remus, and Peter. (He’s gonna need the patience of a saint to not Avada Kedavra that rat on the spot.) Harry had spent the whole morning watching Sirius peel oranges and give them to you with a smitten look in his eyes — naturally, you gave whatever Sirius offered you to Harry, and each time Padfoot would visibly wilt. If he were in his Animagus form, Harry thinks he would be whining by now, tongue out and all. James and Sirius follow after you like lost puppies when you extricate yourself from the table.

“Where are you going?” James calls, hot on your heels as you leave the Great Hall.

“Away from you, Potter!”

And James actually sighs when you turn the corner and disappear from their peripheral vision. Seconds later, he turns to Harry with a blinding smile, “She’s definitely charmed.”

Harry chortles.

“Well, come on then!” James guffaws as he wraps an arm around Harry’s neck — this is so, so strange. They begin walking in the opposite direction of where you went. “I still can’t believe we’ve got another Potter here and in Slytherin. I think I would have remembered Minnie calling your name during the Sorting Ceremony. What year are you in?”

He’s supposed to start his sixth-year in a few weeks. “Fifth.” Technically.

“We should ask Lily,” says Sirius, hands in his pockets and ebony ringlets tickling his nape. “She’s got the best memory out of all of us.”

It’s odd, Harry thinks, meeting the person who’s got his eyes — or the other way around, as people have told him. It’s like someone carved out the emeralds of Lily Evans’s eyes and bestowed it upon Harry for safekeeping. She sits beside Remus Lupin, head resting on his shoulder, hands clasped together, as they enjoy the shade. Nex to them, oblivious to their intimate conversation, is Peter Pettigrew — with his rosy, cherub cheeks and innocent blue eyes; not at all the image of a pathological, cowardly liar. Their heads snap in attention as James boisterously cries for their name.

“Marauders — and Lily-pad — meet ickle Potter.” James lightheartedly whacks Harry on the back, to which Harry feels his lungs spill out from his mouth, he’s sure there’s an imprint of his father’s hand on his back now.

“There’s two Potters in Hogwarts?” Sea-green eyes look at him in scrutiny as Lily knits her brows. “How even is the castle still standing?”

James cackles like it’s the best joke he’s ever heard in his entire life, slapping his knee for dramatic effect. Oh, well, at least they’re buying Harry’s half-baked lie. At this point, it’s not even baked, it’s just wet, soggy, and poorly done. “Good one, Lily-pad!”

Sirius ruffles Remus’s shaggy blonde hair, canines bared in a wide grin. “This one here’s Moony, uptight prefect in the morning and absolute beast in the evening.”

Harry blanches. Surely he was talking about his furry problem, right? Right?

Remus doesn’t even flinch, just peels off Sirius’s hand from him and extends his hand out to Harry. “Please do not mind him. Remus Lupin, nice to meet you. Although, I can’t believe this is the first time we’ve met. We would have definitely remembered if we had another Potter in our midst.”

“It’s true, we Potters are just hard to forget,” says James, smiling cheekily.

Harry pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Mum didn’t take the Potter name. I’m part Dursley. Muggle.”

Lily hums, toying at the ends of her bright hair. “Dursley, huh? What a familiar name.”

“It’s a common one,” Harry assures her — not at all the names of the people who would take him in after they died. And make his life miserable.

“I suppose you’re right,” says Lily, unconvinced.

“And this is Peter.” James introduces the boy eagerly, pride in his voice — as though this isn’t the person who literally allies himself with Voldemort. As if Peter won’t betray his friends all because of fear.

“N–Nice to meet you,” Peter stammers with a nervous fidget, “Any family of James is a friend of ours.”

Harry’s eye twitches.

IT IS ALMOST COMICAL — the way their eyes land on your figure, bursting through the courtyard from the corridors, winter cloak swishing with every step, tendrils of hair swaying in the crisp wind, and head held up high, thick books under your arms. You pause in front of the Marauders, face blank, then you turn to Peter, greeting him with a: “Hello, only Gryffindor I can tolerate.”

Peter’s cheeks burn a saccharine hue of pink. Oh, no, no, no — absolutely not — Harry will not stand for a little crush Peter Pettigrew has on his mother. He needs James to act now. “Hi,” Peter replies shyly.

Lily quirks her lips. “Hello, princess, see your score for the Astronomy test yet?”

You scowl. “Zip it, Evans.”

The sound of Lily’s laughter fills the atmosphere — it’s the sort of melody that makes flowers bloom in deserts. “Had a bit of difficulty with the star charts?”

Sirius pinches your cheek — Harry thinks you’re going to murder him on the spot. “Difficulty? I think this one just slept through the whole thing.”

James snickers. “Must have been one hell of a nap, princess. You were drooling on my jumper.”

“I most certainly do not drool!” You gasp, appalled, eyes wide as you step away from Sirius.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “What? Is drooling too barbaric for the pretty, little pure-blooded princess now? Newsflash, pet, you’re just as human as we are.”

“Oh, you horrible, loathsome, infuriating—” You whip around to beat his chest with the course book in your grasp — it’s the kind of book Hermione would consider for light reading.

“Irresistibly attractive—?” Sirius supplies for you, grin widening with as he captures your wrist with his hands.

“In your dreams!” You shrill.

You exhale slowly, eyes closing, chest rising when you take a sharp inhale. You open your eyes and stare straight at Harry — for a moment he fears that you’ll bite his head off. “Harry, dear, will you accompany me to the library? I think I’ve found something important regarding your situation.”

Harry nods. “Is it time already?”

“Yes,” You say firmly. “And time is of the essence. Come on.”

“Wait!” Lily calls out to you as you turn to head back to the castle, Harry in tow — he tries to avoid the way James is glaring at your linked arms. “Hogsmeade next week?”

Your jaw falls to the ground — this must have been unrehearsed, if the others’ reactions were anything to go by; Remus had dropped his book in shock, Sirius looked like he couldn’t decide between applauding Lily’s bravery or shaking her, and James was somehow frozen in time. “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused, princess,” says Lily, dimples poking out of her cheek as she takes another step towards you. “You, me, Hogsmeade. A date. I’m sure you’ve gone on one of those before.”

Harry elbows your stomach as you stare at Lily in shock. It takes a few moments to break you out of your stupor. “A–And what makes you think I’ll just go with you?”

Lily shrugs. “I’m fit. Aren’t I, Remus?”

“The fittest,” says Remus without missing a beat.

You laugh incredulously. “Do you just expect me to go along with this? You’re mad, Evans.”

Harry glares at you. You need to go along with this.

“Are you scared, princess?” Lily’s face is inches away from yours, noses almost touching — Harry doesn’t know if he should keep watching this painful way of flirting — as she grins at you, happiness barely contained within her eyes.

To your credit, you don’t back down. (Harry has to say this for the masses: he saw your gaze flitter down to Lily’s lips for a split second.) “Stop calling me that, Evans.”

“One date, then.”

You growl in exasperation, eyes flickering to the boys behind her back — pretending not to hear their conversation. “I suppose I’ll have to deal with them as well?”

Lily beams and Harry swears sunflowers could grow in her direction. “We’re a package deal.”

“Unfortunately,” You utter — but Harry notices it, the lack of venom in your voice. You straighten your posture, nose lifted haughtily, “I choose where we’re going.”

“Done.” The sun peeks out from the cloud just as Lily smiles at you.

“And I want to—”

“Done,” Remus interjects raspily, peering up at you from underneath his lashes. “Anything you want, it’s yours.”

You fight a growing smile, but continue, “If we’re going out in public, you’re going to have to wear—”

“Done,” says James giddily, he looks as though he could kiss you in front of everyone without a care in the world.

“You can’t just agree to anything I say!” You flap your arms in frustration.

“Yes, dear,” Sirius teases.

“Do you know how much you piss me off, Black?” You squawk. “Because you are this close to—”

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Sirius confesses, every pretense shed raw from his skin, sincerity pouring from his words.

“I—” You falter, heat rushing to your cheeks. “You’ve gone mad.”

“It’s your fault, dove,” says James, eyes twinkling like crescent moons as he smiles. “You best take accountability for this.”

“You’re incorrigible — all of you,” You say as you avoid their gazes.

(But they were yours. Past, present, and future. They loved you so much that their soul was no longer their own — it was yours; yours to keep, yours to break, and yours to love. It would be unjust to ask them why they loved you. Do we ask why the sun rises each day without rest? Do we ask a daisy to stop blooming, or a tree to stop growing after it has endured storms and floods? After all, we do not ask why humans follow the light in a tunnel shrouded in darkness.)

“Come on, Harry, let’s go.” You reach for his hand, he notices immediately that the tips of your ears are pink, and your palms are warm with sweat. He barely sees Peter wave goodbye before you tug him in the direction of the castle entrance.

“Wait up!” Remus catches up to you two in quick strides, offering to carry your books for you — not that you agree, stubborn Slytherin that you are. “I’ll walk you to the library.”

“There’s no need for that, Lupin, thank you.” You dodge his eyes, lips tightly pressed together, nails slightly digging into Harry’s arm.

“Remus,” He says with a twinkle. “Call me Remus.”

“Alright.” You pause. “Remus.”

(In that moment, Remus wonders if you remember decking Lucius Malfoy in the face to defend him in your fourth year. He didn’t think he deserved to even breathe in the same air as you — the pure-blooded princess, dressed in clothing worth more than his life, adorned in jewelry he could only dream to afford, raised to believe she was better than everyone else. Then, you beat up Evan Rosier the next month in the courtyard, eyes ablaze, extravagant silk marred with grass stains and mud, and knuckles split open. You spit blood on the ground, looking at Lily then back at Rosier. “Red,” You say, kicking him one last time in the stomach, unafraid of McGonagall’s wrath growing louder and louder. “Just like everyone else. Like those Muggleborns you fear. We’ve all got dirty blood, Rosier. Suck it up.”

“I’ll tell your father about this!” Rosier bellows through bloody teeth.

“Tell him!” You grab his neck and slam your forehead against his. “Tell him that I decide my own future now!”

Remus doesn’t even have to think about it.

He falls in love.)

FUNNILY ENOUGH, IT’S LILY who gives you her heart first, before anyone else does. It’s the last month of her first year at Hogwarts — it still hasn’t quite sunk in yet that she was a witch. Her, not Petunia, but her — Lily Evans, the witch. Apparently, some people can’t believe it either. A girl from Ravenclaw calls her this foul word, she’s heard it a few times now but it always hurts the same. James and Sirius get into a fight for her honor, now faced with detention later this evening. But she can’t help but wonder, what if they were right? What if she really didn’t belong in this world? It was too good to be true, anyway. Perhaps she’ll just run a flower boutique with Petunia.

“Oi.”

The sound of your voice startles her, and she nearly topples over in the Great Lake. Lily catches sight of your Slytherin colors and resigns herself to another round of name-calling. “What do you want?”

“They’re wrong, you know,” You tell her, ignoring Lily’s question. You look down on her with your nose raised arrogantly — she wishes she could be like you. Born to be magic. “You’ve got a terrifying brain locked up in your head there, Evans. And they know it, too. They’re scared.”

Lily scoffs. “I’m just a Mudblood to them. There’s nothing to be intimidated by.”

You sneer. “Don’t say that word. You’re more than that. More than them. They’ve got long ways to go to prove they have a place in this world. But you — you’ve defied the odds and you were destined to become magic. You don’t have to prove anything. You have the right to be in the wizarding world and no one can take that away from you.”

Then, you pivot on your heels, not bothering to hear her reply. “You’re my rival now, Evans. Do keep up. We’ve got an Astronomy test tomorrow. I look forward to seeing how you do then.”

Lily just gapes. She’s certain there’s butterflies in her stomach. Her heart thumps wildly against her ribcage. Lily raises her hands to feel her blushing cheeks. There’s a light unfamiliar sensation in her stomach — like the urge to kick her legs and scream into a pillow, or more precisely, chase after you and hold your hand.

She stiffens.

Oh.

part two

#hp angst #hp fluff #hp imagine #hp x reader #james potter x reader #lily evans x reader #marauders angst #marauders fluff #marauders imagine #marauders x reader #sirius black x reader #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders fluff #remus lupin x reader

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bookishdreamer28 · 3 months

Text

Height difference

I hope you'll like it 👐

Mattheo is obsessed with the way his body is towering over yours. He has found himself thinking of how you'd perfectly fit in his arms many times and he can't help but feel his whole body getting hot at the very thought. From the very first moment Theodore introduced you to their group, he was instantly besotted. He was entirely mesmerized by you.

Every time you wanted to grab something that was out of your reach, he was standing closely behind you just to help you, but in reality all he wanted was to feel your small frame against his. And when you look up at him all puppy-eyed, with those eyes, he knew he was down bad already. And he knew he had fallen deeply for you.

He loved teasing you cause your reactions to his teasing were absolutely worthwhile. Seeing your flustered face was something he adored.

"How you're doing shorty?" He said in his baritone voice and it took everything in you not to punch the smugness off of his face.

"Stop calling me shorty" you tried look mad and scary with your angry expression but Mattheo wanted to just grab your face and kiss the shit out of you.

"Ok then how about...pixie-"

"NO!" You exclaimed and walked away from him, not being able to stay any longer around his presence but one thing you didn't notice, was Mattheo laughing quietly behind you because he found your walk absolutely adorable.

When he gets to hug you, that's when he feels like his heart will burst out. It's the way you snuggle your head in his chest, the way your arms are wrapped around his waist, and the warmth that instantly engulfing him when he feels your heart beating against him. Everything about this feeling is perfect. You just fitted perfectly.

His most fave thing about your height difference, is when you tip toe every time you want to kiss him. He's just standing there, the corner of his lips curving upwards displaying a cheeky smile on his face as he watches you struggling while you're trying to give him a kiss.

"You know you can lean down a bit right? I can't do all the work here" you frowned as you looked up at him. He pinched you cheek softly and traced his thumb in soft circles there.

"Yeah but you have no idea how adorable you l- ouch!" You slapped his hand.

"Now, don't make me bend your head down here by force"

"I would gladly let you love" he chuckled and you smirked as you placed your forehead on your palm, sighing.

"Enough with the teasing Riddle, now kiss me" you looked up again, waiting for his lips to finally crush on yours. He felt his heart pounding like crazy against his chest.

He laughed and instead of leaning his head down, he crouched down and scooped you up into his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist and he placed one hand under your thigh and the other around your waist. Kissing you was earth-shattering. The fieeling of your soft lips locking with his, was something he has been craving for so long.

Once you pulled away, you expected him to put you down but he still held you tight against him.

"Will you put me down now?" You tried to fight back a smile as you felt his hold becoming a bit tighter, his locked on you the whole time.

"Nope, I love having you like this love" he murmured against your lips and you giggled as you once again captured your lips together in a kiss which caused your eyes to flutter close and enjoy the feeling.

Thank you for reading!!

3K notes · View notes

myfictionaldreams · 3 months

Note

I have such a specific idea for poly marauders so please bare with me .

James and Sirius were out to a fancy party and they come home early to see reader and remus having sex in the kitchen , remus has her spread on the table while he fucks her and she arches her back and sees sirius through blurry vision and calls his name, remus doesn’t notice them so he thinks shes calling her other boyfriends name “ wrong boyfriend sweetheart “ so he fucks her harder until she calls his name “ there you go love”.

You could continue this however you would like Maybe james and Sirius join them. I also love the idea that after everything when they’re showering she reassure remus and says something like “ it’s hard to think of anything else when I’m around you , you’re all consuming “ and the boys agree THATS SO CUTE.

I’m so sorry that this is long and graphic.

Say My Name // Poly!Marauders x Fem!Reader

A/N: Whoever you are, anon, I thank you for giving me this request because, holy shit, it has turned me (and Remus) absolutely feral, and I have no regrets.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, fluff, werewolf troupes, feral remus lupin, dom/sub undertones, possessive sex, size difference/kink (!), praise kink, dirty talk, self-confidence issues, gentle touching/kissing, rough oral sex (f receiving), rough sex, overstimulation, table sex, manhandling, multiple orgasms, crying, body worship, anxiety attack (nearly), restraints, blindfold, begging, aftercare :)))

Words: 5.7k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

“You both look so damn handsome!” you admire dreamily with a thick lace of sarcasm as you tighten the burgundy scarf around Sirius’ neck. The mischievous glint in those twinkling grey eyes brightened as he rolled them in jest, matching the doting smirk on his full lips. “Maybe you should forgo the leather jackets more often for the waistcoats”, you say with a lustful undertone to your words as you look up at him through your lashes.

“Hmm, you think so?” he asks, dipping his height ever so slightly so that he could press his lips to yours in a surprisingly gentle kiss that still managed to pull desire in your abdomen as you leaned in for more but whined as he stood back to full height and straightened the waistcoat you loved so very much.

From behind you at the entrance to the bathroom, James was attempting to knot his bowtie when he wondered, “Are you sure you both don’t want to come with us? We each can have a plus one, which means there’s room for two. We don’t mind being fashionably late”. Glancing over your shoulder, you took in his slick attire that also caused warmth to bloom beneath your cheeks. A simple black jacket shaped perfectly for his slim waist, a crisp white shirt beneath and a matching shade of burgundy to Sirus was the colour for his tie.

The matching colours were an idea of Remus’, who was lounging across the mammoth bed, his long legs stretched out beneath him with one ankle crossed over the other. He watched James intently, the corner of his eye twitching at the messy-haired Marauder's attempts to tie his bowtie.

Remus stood and approached him, batting away James’ fingers as he began to do the job for him. You watched them fondly before answering the unanswered question. “No, it’s ok, James. Remus and I have a lovely night filled with a romantic home-cooked meal and a fancy bottle of wine. Who knows where the night may take us? Might end in some lovely… hand holding”, you say with a simple shrug to your shoulders, returning to straightening the already pristine waistcoat of Sirius.

“Oh yeah? Some strong hand-holding, Moony, is that what you’ve got planned? You might need to up your game”, Sirius jokes under his breath as he watches your fingers closely with a dipped head.

Remus snorted, smiling to himself, knowing that your night would be filled with anything but hand-holding, especially as the hours ticked closer to the following day. It was approaching the full moon, not tomorrow but the next day, but that didn’t matter as the changes were already beginning to affect Remus, and it all started with his desire for possession.

The wolf in Remus took a keen liking to you, even from all those years ago when you met the Marauders on the train to Hogwarts. It was an obsession, a need that devoured him completely to be with you. It had been described to you like a mating. Remus’ wolf thought you were his mate; therefore, as the gap between Remus’ and the wolf’s mind thinned with the full moon, the desire would take hold of Remus. There was still the deep, adoring love that he held for James and Sirius, and thankfully, this stopped him from ever deeming them a threat against your love, but others? Well, that’s where the danger lay, and therefore, it was easier for everyone if you and Remus stayed in for the night rather than have a territorial wizard with werewolf anger in a room full of people.

“Remember to please be safe out there tonight. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, and for the love of Merlin, James, please don’t drink and fly again. I’m not having another incident like last time”.

“Yes, Mum”, James grumbles sarcastically as Sirius chuckles under his breath.

“I’ll make sure that Prongs is on his best behaviour”, Sirius reasons with you as his hands come to rest around your waist, pulling you ever so gently closer.

“Good”, you say promptly, whilst curling a piece of his long hair around your fingers before reaching up to kiss his lips with a fierce press. “You look so handsome tonight,” you try to praise him as your mouths are still kissing together.

“Don’t I always?” he responds cheekily, earning a half-hearted eye-roll as he eases away, swapping places with James so that he can say goodbye to Remus and James with you.

Your fingers automatically try to tangle through James’ hair, attempting to flatten out the messy strands, but after a couple of minutes of attempts, James tugs you by your wrists. “I don’t know why you even bother; you know my hair will just stay messy. Anyway, doesn’t it add to my roguish good looks?” he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively as he gives you a broad grin whilst kissing each of your palms.

Your fingers cup his freshly shaved cheeks, caressing the smooth skin as you say, “I hope you have fun tonight”, whilst leaning up on your tiptoes to kiss him with as much vigour as you could hear from the groans across the room with Sirius and Remus.

James sighed into the kiss, one hand matching yours by resting along your cheek and the other on your lower back as his lips pecked across your face until hovering next to your ear. “If you need us to come back, just send a note as we taught you; two flicks of your fingers and it should disappear, and we’ll come back straight away”.

Nodding your head in understanding, James kissed your cheek quickly before standing up to his full height and looking over at the other two men. “Sirius, take your tongue from Moony’s mouth; we must go!”

You tried to stifle your laughter as the two men pulled away from each other with rosy cheeks and wet lips.

Sirius and James disappeared with a flurry of green fire through the flu network installed in your shared home's kitchen. Remus turned to you with a heartwarming smile as he asked, “Shall we put some music on and start with dinner, love?”

You left it in Remus’ capable hands to find suitable music on his record player, and it ended up being a medley of David Bowie, which you were always happy to listen to. The two of you worked in unison to cook a beautiful roast dinner, moving around one another without getting in the way but making sure to remain at arm's length. Lingering touches to arms or backs, sipping slowly on the bottle of wine as Remus sang along to Bowie under his breath. You’d told him he could sing louder as you wanted to hear him, but he simply smiled and kissed your cheek, like he was embarrassed at being caught, but it was a rare day where Remus Lupin was embarrassed about anything.

The dinner was beautifully cooked, and there was enough for many more people than just you and Remus. Soon enough, you were stuffed full, thankful for deciding to wear a loose dress today with your expanded stomach. Remus was still eating as you sat and slowly digested your food, talking idly about fond memories from Hogwarts and how your work had been this week. Just anything domestically happy that the two of you could as you shifted closer in your seat so that his large scarred palm could rest on your thigh and your fingers interlock over the back of his hands.

“It’s a rare time when it gets to be just the two of us”, Remus muses, his hand squeezing your fingers and thighs as he pushes away his empty plate, his eyes solely focused on you.

“It’s been nice. As much as I love having all four of us together, sometimes it’s hard to keep up and give each of you all my attention, so when it's just one-on-one, it feels so intimate, wouldn’t you agree?”

His eyes softened as he nodded, “I definitely agree. You look so beautiful tonight, by the way. Have I told you that?”

Warmth filled your cheeks as you looked away to the glass of wine in your other hand. Even after all these years, one small compliment from Remus felt like the world, and it wasn’t the first time he had said that tonight; he’d said it every other sentence, but that didn’t hinder the giddy feeling from spreading in your chest.

“You, Mr Lupin, are a smooth talker”, you say, drinking a sip of your wine, ignoring his growing smile. Placing the glass onto the table, you shifted closer to Remus, resting a hand on his chest as you realised how much time had passed over the night. “So pudding, what would you like? I think we have some ice cream in the freezer, or if you’re lucky, James would have left us a couple of slices of his mum’s cake from yesterday”.

Remus didn’t answer immediately as you realised he was just silently watching you with the beautiful twinkle back in his eye, a curve to his lips that you itched to caress with your thumb. But then, he shifted forward in his seat so you were only mere inches from your faces touching, and the soft flop of his mousey brown hair fell into his eyes. “You’re so pretty, Remus”, you admire and then hold back a giggle as his cheeks flare with colour at your compliment.

“Pretty and scarred”, he muttered in response, cupping your wrist and bringing your fingers to his lips so he could kiss them carefully.

Your automatic response was to shout at him. It wasn’t that he had said anything remotely negative, but you knew the self-conscious thoughts that laced his words that he rarely spoke but still thought. You wanted to remind him of the hundreds of times he had ever scolded you for making negative comments about yourself or any self-doubt. Still, if you did, you knew it would ruin the positive mood for the night, so you wanted to continue with words of affirmation.

Closing the gap between each other, you kissed the tip of his nose whilst cupping both cheeks, paying specific attention to the thick pink scar that ran down from his temple, over his brow and his cheek. “I love you, scars and all”.

Remus’ tension seemed to ease from his shoulders as he breathed lightly out of his nose, his face lowering to rest on your shoulder as you held him for a moment before he began to stand and offered a hand, “What about a dance m’lady, then I’ll find you something sweet to suck on for desert”.

Ignoring the innuendo, you grinned up at him, placing your hand into his much larger palm. James and Sirius had lessons growing up from their families on how to dance for special balls they were forced to attend. You and Remus, on the other hand, were utterly clueless, but this only added to the joy and laughter as you both clumsily tried not to step on the other's toes or twirl without knocking into furniture.

You’d laughed so hard that a stitch formed in your side, causing the vivid dance to settle into a light sway. Your head rested on Remus's shoulder as his cheek pressed against the top of your head, arms around your shoulder as he lightly sang the next Bowie song.

Everything was perfect, especially as his rough fingertips danced up the nape of your neck, carefully tipping your head back so that you were now staring up into his kind eyes, his lips no longer moving along to the lyrics as he licked them carefully, moistening them before dipping his head. The kiss was as gentle as his hands now cupping your face, and you wondered for a moment if you were lightheaded from holding your breath in anticipation or from the effects of having your boyfriend kissing you.

Remus was soft, lovely and perfect as he eased away to put a gap between your mouths, but only so that he could adjust his position by keeping one hand on your jaw and the other around your waist before taking your breath away once more. Instantly, your body rose to the tips of your toes to be closer to him and firm the kiss.

The breath you’d both been holding released, noses pressing into each other's cheeks as the warm air tickled your ears. His tongue teased the seam of your lips, and as you relaxed into the kiss, many things seemed to happen at once.

The grandfather clock in the living room chimed midnight, and the soft Remus you’d been carefully kissing and exploring with your lips was now firmly gripping the back of your thighs, lifting you whilst simultaneously stepping towards the table as you squealed in shock, desperately gripping his shoulders for support.

Plates and glasses smashed onto the floor as Remus shoved aside the lovely table setting so that there was a firm blank canvas for you to be led on.

“Woah, Remus, just give me a minute.” You try to reason with him to at least get your bearings. Having been standing up two seconds ago, you were now led on your back with your boyfriend having become frantic with his actions. His shoulders shook with restraint, and his eyes didn’t lift from the edge of your skirt as he reached for the material. Not only this, but the brightness in his eyes had one, replaced with sinful hunger.

“Need you-” he muttered with a gruffness that hadn’t been there moments ago.

This was why you’d decided to stay in. Sometimes, Remus would curl around your body with the need to simply just breathe you in and declare that you were his; he’d become somewhat feral.

The fire in your body scorched to life as the need seeped into your core. As lovely as it had been, seeing him like this just did something to you. You wanted him just as desperately.

Frantically, you tried to help him lift up your skirt, but he was in control, pushing the material and tearing it in places with his firm grip until your legs and underwear-covered pussy were revealed. For a moment, it looked like he was going to dribble as you tried to reach for him to tell him to take a breath and compose himself, but all you were able to do audibly was scream out, head tipping back as Remus devoured you.

The Marauder hadn’t even waited for your underwear to be removed before his mouth was on you, hands not-so-gently wrapping around your thighs to push your legs apart, the slippers you’d been wearing now flying off in different directions across the kitchen. It was like he’d not eaten a single thing all night with the way his lips and jaw moved against your most sensitive of areas.

The sensation was odd with the barrier of cotton in between your cunt and his mouth. All you had was the pressure, wetness beginning to soak through from his tongue and the overwhelming heat from his mouth. Remus moved hungrily, licking and caressing with his mouth as you lay with your arms gripping onto the edge of the table above your head.

“Rem-Remus! Merlin, please don’t stop!” you begged desperately, allowing your body to succumb to his touch. You couldn’t even open your eyes without feeling dizzy with the sensations of his body all over your lower half as he pressed his tongue firmly against your throbbing clit, circling it with intention.

The hands on your thighs pushed harder, giving his face more room as a deep groan burned from his chest as he needed more. Still, as you whimpered from him to not stop, he stayed in place, stimulating your clit over and over again until your body was tensing with the pulses of desire from your cunt as your orgasm erupted.

His motions continued through the waves of pleasure, and even after, he carried on with his devouring, even as you verged on the edge of becoming overstimulated from the rough material of your panties rubbing against your delicate area. Remus needed more, and he was ready to take it.

The pressure on the back of your thighs suddenly disappears as he drapes your legs over his shoulders, giving you a better angle now to reach down and run your shaky fingers through his soft hair.

With your eyes firmly closed, you hadn’t noticed that your underwear had been torn clean from your body, only noticing when there was no barrier between what you both wanted. Your back arched from the stimulation of him sucking on your bundle of nerves, making an obscenely wet noise as your juices and his saliva caused a heavenly mess.

Your legs had begun squeezing his face as you weren’t able to control your body, but he didn’t stop; he just simply continued to eat your pretty cunt. “Please….please Remus”, you continued to beg but unsure of what as you were thoroughly warm head to toe with the effects from your last orgasm, but his playful mouth knew just the right ways to keep you at the elevated bliss.

The thickness of his tongue pressed against your throbbing hole, delving as deep as he could go before curling it and exploring the warm softness of your cunt as the tip of his nose stimulated your clit.

It was intense, primarily as his large hands now rested on your abdomen, pushing down and forcing your hips to remain against the table so that he could remain in complete control of the stimulation to your body.

Clenching relentlessly around his tongue, your body couldn’t tell if it was calming down from an orgasm or having another. The overwhelming sensation caused tears to well in your eyes as the apples of your cheeks burned with heat. Everything was too much; even the clothes covering your torso felt claustrophobic as your nipples ached to be free.

“Ah!” you babbled, unable to even say his name as more intense waves of pleasure rocked from your cunt as it pulsed around his tongue. The tears escaped down your cheeks as you tried to gasp for air, your body finally slumping in exhaustion against the table as Remus began to stand from where he’d been on his knees for you.

Each of your legs was carefully eased from his shoulders to dangle off the edge of the wooden surface, not that you could keep them up anyway, as your entire body felt as if it was made of jelly.

“Did so good for me, Love. Taste so fucking good, wanna try?” he asked from where he now looked down at you, hovering only inches away from your face as his fingers wiped away the evidence of the tears. You nod quickly, opening your eyes for a split second to see Remus’ dark eyes and swollen, wet lips before they were pressing against yours, his tongue pushing into your mouth and allowing you the vulgar opportunity to taste your own juices from his mouth.

“My pretty girl tastes so good”, he admired, staring down at you, memorising every flicker of emotions on your face. You mewled at the compliment, nuzzling your face pathetically into his palm as he cradled your face. “What do you want? I want to hear you say it”.

His tone indicated that he was teasing, which was a rare attribute for Remus as he usually just liked to do whatever he had in mind, but when he was like this, wishing to get the very most from you as his werewolf subconscious began to flicker through his thoughts.

“You, I want you. Please!” you stress whilst trying to look up at him, fingers trembling at your side with the need to touch him somehow.

The corners of Remus’ lips tilted up as he smiled down at you, “Have I ever told you how much I love to hear you beg?”

Before you could respond, you were gasping as coolness licked over your chest as he’d swiped his wand down the centre of your clothing until it was falling off of your shoulders, and your body could be free from the confines. His eyes lowered, focused on your pebbled nipples as they begged for him to be touched, but he didn’t rush to them.

Instead, Remus began the long journey of exploring the rest of your body with firm kisses and licking with the flat of his tongue. He paid special attention to your neck, as he always did this close to the full moon as his sharp teeth grazed over your pulse point, the animalistic side of his begging to bite down and mark his girl, but he restrained, knowing it would be painful for you. The last time he’d done so, he’d had a right bollocking off of James and Sirius, who prattled on about how you weren’t his chew toy, even though you had insisted that it was ok.

Moving lower, Remus worshipped your breasts. He was licking the skin around the areola before drawing your nipple and some breast tissue into his mouth, sucking with enough force that the area swelled with the rush of blood. The fire in your core intensified as you gained enough energy to lift your hands and grip his shirt.

“I need you, Remus, please stop teasing me”, you beg, but all that earned in response was an approved grunt.

“Relax, and just let me kiss you”, he sniped with desire as you wanted to sass back but found yourself melting into the table instead. Each inch of your stomach, hips, legs, arms, everywhere he could reach in this position, he praised with his mouth until he was once again hovering above your lips. “All I can think about is you”, he admitted, his tone caught between hunger and pain as his thoughts were becoming too clouded by the wolf’s desire to be close to you.

Your fingers combed through his hair as you tried to sound as calming as possible, “I know, Remus, it’s ok. I’m right here. Take me”.

A shiver ran down his spine as he finally began to unbuckle his trousers, freeing his cock between your bodies as he rested on his elbows on either side of your face so that his face could nuzzle into your neck.

You took the honours of reaching between your legs, grasping his impressively hard cock, admiring the soft skin and veins that bulged as you pulled him closer to where you needed him most.

“Tell me you’re mine”, he begged as you directed his tip to your soaked hole.

Tilting your head so that you could kiss his cheek, you implored, “I’m yours Remus - FUCK!”

All you could do was curse and cling to him as, with one powerful thrust, the majority of his cock stretched into your pussy. You could never take his entire length unless it were through anal play, but that didn’t stop him trying as the pressure became overwhelming as he nudged against your cervix.

Your thighs trembled once more as he gave you time to adjust, sighing blissfully against your neck as if he had finally found what it was that he was looking for. However, as your cunt frantically fluttered around Remus as you adjusted to the intrusion, Remus began to rut his hips in short, snapping thrusts slowly.

You groaned at the sensation and found your hips meeting his until all restraint was gone, and Remus was fucking you hard and fast.

Pushing up on his hands so that he was looking down at you, Remus fucked you hard. The table beneath you groaned just as loudly as you were as it rocked against the floor, and for a split second, you hoped it wouldn’t suddenly collapse beneath you two.

Remus suddenly moved as if hearing your thoughts, widening his stance as he stood to his full height, hands on your thighs and bringing your body to the very edge of the table. In this position, he could fuck you with quick snaps of his hips. Your back arched in this new position, pleasure pouring into your soul.

However, a noise over the sound of the fucking caught your attention as the fire flickered with green flames, and you couldn’t help but gasp, “Sirius!” as he stepped out of the fire, followed closely by James.

Remus, still with his head hunched slightly from where he was watching you intently, growled at the name used, his gaze hardening on you as he leaned back until you looked into each other's eyes. “Wrong name, Sweetheart”, he demanded lowly, fucking into you with as power as he could, causing you to cry out and tense with the pleasure. “I only want my name coming out of your mouth, do you understand?”

“Yes, Remus! I’m sorry!” you plead with him as he fucks you harder.

“There you go, Love. See, it wasn’t so difficult, was it?” As he talks, he lifts his hands and covers your eyes so you can no longer look at Sirius or James as you’re plunged into darkness.

“Don’t be too hard on her, Moony”, James teases from somewhere across the room as you hear him and Sirius shuffling around but are unable to see what they are doing.

Remus grunts but doesn’t stop with his motions, making sure that your next orgasm is just as overwhelming and powerful as the others as your cunt clung to him for dear life, attempting to milk his balls with the powerful clenches but he didn’t stop fucking you all the way through your orgasm.

Having his hand over your eyes was a disorientating position to be in, especially as he would every so often kiss your cheek or neck, savouring your soft skin before moving away so that his momentum could continue.

A hiss echoed across the room from wherever your other two boyfriends currently were, and as another whimper sounded from what you assumed was Sirius, Remus then decided it would be a good time to completely pull out of your pussy, leaving you gaping and empty.

Before you could moan, more disorientation flowed through you as his hand was removed from your face, and your body was being manhandled so that you were now being turned over on the table until your front was pressed against the wood. With a gentle kick to your ankle, Remus made room between your legs for himself and fucked into you. He was even deeper in this angle, which you didn’t think was possible as his chest pressed against your back.

His and didn’t return to your face, allowing you to look at your other lovers. Sirius was currently sitting on James’ lap, both of their fancy clothes more dishevelled from earlier as the bowtie and scarf were off and the top buttons were undone. They stared intently at you and Remus as they touched one another. James was kissing the column of Sirius’ neck whilst his hands groped at the bulge at the front of his trousers. At the same time, Sirius was grinding his hips down on James, who you assumed had a matching bulge that was rubbing against Sirius’ arse.

“You’re mine, Love. Aren’t you? My pretty girl”, Remus whispered with deep penetrations of his cock into your cunt.

“Yes! I’m yours, Remus! You’re so deep”, you proclaim with a cry as you find yourself already wanting to peak and cum over his thick dick again. However, Remus knew you just as well as you knew yourself and could feel the tightening of your soft walls and stopped all thrusting as you sobbed with the beautiful feeling washing away.

His hand eased beneath your face, holding your jaw and forcing your sight away from your boyfriend's until it was tilted to look over your shoulder at Remus. “You only get to cum after them”, he demands before nipping your ear love with a sharp tug of his teeth.

“Moony, you really are tense, aren’t you” Sirius jokes breathlessly as he moves more eagerly against James, whose hand is now fully inside of his boyfriend's trousers, wanking him off in time with the movements.

Thankfully it didn’t take them long to cum, Sirius first with his head thrown back and trousers staining a dark colour in a little puddle. James then rutted up into Sirius a few minutes later, groaning and stilling his movements. Both breathed each other in deeply, lazily kissing and holding onto one another until your sudden gasp echoed around the room as Remus continued with his fucking.

Your head moved to drop onto the table as you accepted the fucking, but Remus’ hand remained beneath, cushioning your face from the hardness of the wooden table as his lips moved to the junction between your throat and shoulder.

With each thrust, Remus repeatedly grunted the possessive word, “Mine!” until it was all you could think about. Your orgasm nearly caused you to pass out with its intensity. Juices streamed from your cunt, dripping down your thighs as waves of clenching pleasure constricted around Remus’ cock until he was forcing as much of himself as he could into you, and thick seed spurted into you. The warmth was welcomed as it soothed your pussy from the inside out as it began to trickle down your thighs, mixing with your own juices.

You were half aware of your movements, more concerned with the fact that you couldn’t control the tremble and sobs as Remus pressed himself harder over your back, making you feel grounded and safe.

“Shh. Slowly breathe in and out for me. That’s it. Slowly breathe for me again, keep going, well done”, Remus encouraged for some time as you’d been close to a panic attack with the overstimulation, close to tipping into the submissive headspace that would have taken them a lot longer to draw you out of.

“It’s just… a lot”, you say shakily, eyes closed and absorbing every warmth he was willing to give you”.

“I know, I’ve got you. I’ve always got you”, he reassured calmly.

You’re exhausted, ready to fall asleep right there on the kitchen table as you whisper, “I wanna go to sleep”.

Remus kissed your naked shoulder, “After we clean you up, ok, Love?”

As Remus begins to stand, his half-hard cock slipping out of your well-used hole with a slurp and shudder from both of you, did James finally step forward whilst readjusting his softening cock in his trousers.

Squatting down next to you, his fingers tentatively caressed your cheek while keeping an eye on Remus behind you to ensure the action wouldn’t trigger him somehow. “You alright there?” James asked softly.

“Mmhm. Just a little sleepy”, you say whilst closing your eyes at the ticklish touch on your face.

Sirius stepped forward from behind James, raising his wand and pointing it to the destroyed rest of the kitchen mess, “I’ll clean up here, you guys look after her, and I’ll join you in the bathroom”.

Remus had to carry you to the bathroom as liquid drips flooded out of you and marked the direction you had been giving Sirius more to clean up. As this house was altered for the four of you, the shower was wide enough to provide you with Remus and James plenty of room to wash together.

You attempted to stand up on your own but ended up leaning heavily on Remus as James washed the remnants of the fucking from your body was skilled, careful fingers.

“You know I didn’t mean to say the wrong name, right? I just didn’t expect to see them standing there and-” you begin to explain with Remus, worried he’d been upset by you saying Sirius’s name earlier.

However, his lips quickly cut you off with a simple peck, “I know”.

Kissing his cheek several times, you mumbled against his skin, “It’s hard to think of anything else when I’m around you. You’re all consuming, Remus”.

Against your lips, you feel the heat radiating off of him in a quick burst of rare embarrassment as he actually blushed at your words.

“She’s right, Moony. Without you, there is no us without you”, James quips in a rare statement of sincerity.

A cough from the bathroom door catches all your attention as Sirius casually leans against the door frame, cheeks round with roast potato as he joins in with the Remus praising. “There’s a reason why we all argue every night to see who gets to be spooned by the magnificent Remus Lupin”.

Three of you chuckled before you asked, “Are you eating my leftovers?”

“What?” he says with a shrug, stepping further into the room and beginning to take off his clothing at last. “The food was scarce at the party, and Moony’s roasties are always so fucking good”.

You nod in agreement before looking up at Remus once more, who looks quite proud of himself for the flow of compliments coming his way. However, as you attempted to lean up onto your tip toes again to kiss his handsome face in some way, your knees decided they were finished holding up your way as you nearly collapsed to the floor, only stopping because of his strong arms wrapping around your waist.

“As much as I appreciate this little pep talk, I think we need to get someone to bed”.

Remus lay in the centre of the bed, where he rightfully deserved to be tonight with you on top of him, face resting on his chest and legs on either side of his hips as each of your hands held his. Sirius and James joined later, deciding they needed some extra alone time in the shower together, as the dry humping hadn’t entirely filled that horny spot for either of them.

You were asleep by the time both men crept into bed, resting either side of you and Remus with arms spooning around your back as the three shared a kiss goodnight. “How was your night?” Remus asked, looking between James and Sirius. “You’re both sober, so I’m assuming no mischief?”

“Oh, Moony, like we need alcohol to cause a riot. Why do you think we’re back so early?” Sirius declares whilst flicking out the laugh and curling in closer to the warmth of bodies as Remus chuckles into the darkness.

#poly!marauders #the marauders #marauders smut #james potter x reader #james potter smut #sirius black x reader #sirius black smut #remus lupin smut #remus lupin x reader #the marauders x reader #harry potter smut #hp smut #mine*

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pretty-little-mind33 · 4 months

Text

New Romantics

James Potter x slytherin fem!reader

Summary: When your "friends" play a dangerously stupid prank on you, James is the last person you'd think would help you.

Genre: Fluff, hurt and comfort <3

Warning: swearing, mentions of being drugged/drunk, violence, mentions of blood, protective!James

When James sees you walk into the classroom with an unusually cheery smile, he can't look away.

"Sirius," he pauses and leans in closer to his friend, "does she look unwell to you?" James whispers, clearly concerned for you. Sirius lets his chin rest on his palms as he looks over at you nonchalantly.

You almost trip on your shoe-laces as you make your way to your desk and you laugh a little too loudly, but only James seems to notice that particular detail.

"Y/l/n? She seems quite happy to me," Sirius's smirk is heard in his voice but James doesn't look amused.

"No, something's wrong. She's usually quiet and she," he doesn't finish his sentence when he sees your friends in the corner of the classroom.

Some of them look as concerned as he is while most hide smiles and snickers behind their hands as they look at you. James's eyes bounce back to you and his frown deepens. Something is wrong. Instantly, he's on his feet.

"Prongs!?" Sirius sounds surprised but it's no use trying to stop him because James is already on his way to you.

Just as you raise your arm to run a hand in your – already annoyed – desk partner's hair, James quickly swoops in and catches your wrist. You pause and when you turn your head to look at him, your smile widens.

"Potter!" you slur.

James can be an idiot sometimes, but he does know you're not drunk. He's never seen you drink. You look dizzy and he comes to the conclusion you must be under the influence of some kind of spell. He looks you over and sees the nasty cut on your knee. Anger bubbles in his stomach as he remembers how your friends somehow found this all incredibly funny.

You tilt your head at him slightly and say, "You have pretty eyes, did you know that?" you smile a smile James usually loves and was never directed at him before, but by now the entire classroom has their eyes on you and, because he knows you would hate all this unnecessary attention, James helps you stand.

You let out a breathy giggle when his hands find your waist and hold you steady.

"What are you doing?" a shrill voice asks from behind him and James clenches his jaw. He turns around. It's one of your friends. She's also in Slytherin and as hard as he tries, James can't remember her name.

"Helping your friend," he says blankly, "She seems a little out of it, doesn't she?"

"She's fine," your friend rolls her and tucks her dark hair behind her ear. "Aren't you, Y/n?" she asks you with a faint smirk.

Your body sways and James's arms move from your waist and swoops around you to hold under your armpits. "I'm okay — y-yeah, I'm okay. I feel better than fine," You mutter, eyelids fluttering slightly as you giggle at his touch.

James isn't at all convinced you're okay.

Your friend's cruel smirk and the mystery of how you've bruised your knee leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

"She's bleeding," he states as calmly as he can.

"She's just clumsy."

"She's obviously been hexed or something," James narrows his eyes.

Your friend laughs at his accusatory tone. "What? And you think I did it?"

"Yeah, actually, I do."

At this point, it's obvious you aren't paying attention to their argument as you start to play with James's collar. His cheeks flush pink as your hair skims his chin and the smell of your shampoo fills the air.

"Well if you won't tell me what happened to her, then I'll find out myself," he says and his hand moves to hold yours. "Come on," he whispers sweetly and you let him lead you out of the classroom.

James is extremely careful with you. He makes sure you don't trip in the hallway, or run into any doors and walls, and more importantly he stays with you when the nurse comes to make sure you're okay.

He leans over the hospital bed as his hand hover over your knee as he asks, "What's happened to her?"

"Veritaserum," the nurse says as she presses her palm on your forehead.

"The truth serum?" James is confused. "Doesn't that make someone tell the truth? Why would it make her act so," he turns his head to look at you and conflicting emotions creates what feels like an empty pit in his stomach. You look so beautiful with your eyes blown wide as you glance around the room. "So ditzy?" he finishes in an endeared whisper.

"It isn't uncommon as everyone can have different reactions," The nurse explains as she gently inspects your knee, "I think whoever made this potion must not be particularly skilled."

James clenches his fist around his cloak and tries to remind himself that you probably wouldn't want him to beat up your so-called-friends.

"What's happening to me?" your voice comes out strained as you try and focus on their conversation as you catch on to their confused faces.

"Nothing, honey, you're fine. Your friend was worried and he,"

You interrupt her, "James Potter? Oh, he isn't my friend." You look up at James and his smile disappears. He's embarrassed as he searches your face for any indication that you're joking but clearly you aren't because you ask him. "Potter, do you even know my name?" You sound serious.

James hesitates to answer, "Of course I know your name, Y/n," he finally admits.

He doesn't expect your eyes to light up but they do and you turn to the nurse, "He does know my name," you whisper with a smile.

James's heart swells at how happy you seem and he smirks a little. Amused, the nurse lets you continue, "You'know," you lean in closer and mutter just loud enough for James to hear without you knowing, "I really like him."

Surprised, his heart jumps and the nurse panics as he quickly shuts you up. "Alright honey, let's clean up this nasty little wound and then wait for the potion to pass, ok?" you nod and focus on her as she waves her wand across your knee and the cut disappears.

Once she's done, the nurse turns to James and says, "I know you must be curious, Potter, but I think Y/l/n should be alone while she recovers," the nurse turns to you again and looks at you sympathetically.

"He can stay!" you insist, "I want him to stay."

James looks into your eyes and he wonders how he can even think of disappointing you.

But, when he looks at the nurse again his heart sinks. He can't stay, he knows he can't. It would be unfair. You deserve to keep your secrets — all those feelings you wouldn't share with him normally — hidden away in your pretty little head.

James knows he can't take those away from you so he nods, stuffs his hands in his pockets, and sends you a lopsided smile. "I'll see you around, mmh?"

He leaves before he can focus on the way you called his name because if he does, he knows he'd feel compelled to rush back in and stay by your side. On his way back to the classroom, he can't help but smile as he remembers your words. Only, his smile disappears the moment he hears your friends in the hallway.

James stops in front of them and they do the same. The girl from earlier crosses her arms. "What's your issue, Potter?" she snarls, "Where's Y/n?"

James refuses to answer her question. "You gave her the Veritaserum, didn't you?" he accuses and some of your friend's squirm guiltily. The dark-haired girl just smirks.

"So what if we did? She isn't dying, is she? It was funny," she turns to your other friends with a grin and they nod meekly. "You should have seen her stumbling around, she wasn't even fazed when she fell and scraped her knee on the cobblestones. It was hilarious," she continues.

James's face burns from the points of his ears to his cheeks. "Hilarious?!" he repeats, his voice stern, "What kind of friends find it funny when their friend hurts themselves? She didn't know about the Veritaserum, did she?"

The girl shakes her head but one of your other friends interrupts. He's a tall, lanky Slytherin with icy blue eyes and vibrant auburn hair.

"Of course she didn't know, Potter. It wouldn't be as fun if she did. I would think you would understand," he admits with a grin.

James's hands shake as he stares at your friend rambling. The boy only chuckles and turns to his friends, amused, as he taunts, "Slipped the potion in her drink myself this morning."

He doesn't finish his sentence as James punches him. He stumbles back into the girls, cupping his hands around his nose, as they shriek in surprise. James shakes his hand out a little and narrows his eyes. "You don't spike someone's drink, asshole. And don't fucking insinuate I would ever do something like that to anyone!"

"What the fuck? Why do you even care?" The boy hisses as one girl holds his shoulder and tends to him. "You're crazy."

And sure, maybe James was crazy but he won't tolerate someone hurting you.

Ever.

* * *

"James, just give the poor girl some space," Remus sighs as he tries to concentrate on his essay. "She's gone through enough these last few days. Haven't you heard the rumors going around? They're brutal."

James resists the scream that bubbles in his throat. "I know. I know. I just want to be there for her," he whines and Sirius wraps his arm around his shoulder.

"You'll just make things worse," Sirius says, "Last rumor I heard is that she faked it all for your attention."

James clenches his jaw. "How would I make this worse? It's all so fucking cruel, Pads. She's all alone," his heart has been slowly breaking whenever he thinks of you sobbing in your dorm or sitting alone during your classes and meals.

He shuts his eyes a moment and then sits up abruptly and says, "I know what to do."

Remus looks up and with a worried expression, his eyes widen. "Prongs," he starts but James is already standing. "Sirius! Don't let him leave!" Remus insists but it's too late because their friend is already out the Common Room door.

When James enters the Great Hall, he pauses and searches for you. He sees you sitting alone and he becomes so angry he can't think normally.

He storms up to the Slytherin table and jumps on top of it. Some cutlery and food falls to the floor and students turn their heads. James just clears his throat, making a show as he stumbles on his feet.

If everyone wants to gossip about something, they can gossip about this.

With a grin, he spreads his arms and shouts, "Can I have everyone's attention?" The Great Hall turns silent and James struts down the table until he's much closer to you. You feel your cheeks heat up and you hold your breath.

Remus and Sirius run into the Great Hall, calling James's name but it's too late because James is now standing in front of you as he holds out his hand. "Y/n, will you go out with me?" He asks, his voice loud and calm.

Whispers break out as your heart thumps in your chest. You look into James's eyes, searching them and when you reluctantly take his hand he nods a little and pulls you up onto the table with him.

Quickly, he pulls you closer and then whispers in your ear, "Say no. Trust me."

Your frown deepens but the words leave you without thinking, "No?"

James smirks and just subtle enough for no one to see, he kisses your cheek and pulls you away from him. Dramatically, he stumbles backwards and covers his heart. "Ow, you're killing me here, love. What will I do without you?"

If you didn't know he had just asked you to reject him, you would think he sounds genuinely hurt. As he stumbles, he trips on someone's glass and with a loud crash, he falls to the ground.

Students gasp loudly and so do you as you cover your mouth with your hands and rush to the edge of the table and peer down at him. When you see him sitting on the ground he suddenly blows a kiss up to you, a small paper bird flutters up to you and then turns into rose petals.

Your eyes widen and you can't help but laugh when James continues to make a scene and the petals fall in your hair. "You're breaking my heart, darling. Criminal," James whispers and winks dramatically.

"James Potter, detention. Now," McGonagall's voice booms and when James sees you hide a smile behind your hand, he smiles too.

A while later, as James sweeps up McGonagall's classroom floor, all he can think of is your happy smile.

"James?" Your voice interrupts his memory and he jumps a little, turning towards the door. You stand in the doorway, a flustered look on your face as you hesitate to come inside. James drops the broom and rushes over to you.

His knuckles hover over your cheek as he says, "Y/n, are you okay?"

Your eyes widen and you touch his hand. Gently, you pull it down to his side again as you whisper and ask, "What was that all about?"

James searches your face for anger. "I wanted to take the embarrassment off of you. You don't deserve anything that's been happening to you, love. None of it is your fault."

You look at him more seriously. "Yeah, it's been a little hard but I can handle the teasing. You shouldn't have done that," you say and James's heart clenches in his chest.

"I'm sorry if I upset you, Y/n. I just wanted,"

You interrupt him, "No. I mean you shouldn't have asked me to say no," you pause and look up at him, "unless, you don't actually want to go out with me. But, I know you know how I feel about you and I,"

Your sentence dies and you don't know what else to say.

James's expression softens. You look up at him, almost pleading with him, "Please don't make me repeat what I said in the Hospital Wing. It's so embarrassing, and I know you heard me. I wasn't exactly quiet."

James smirks. "When you said you like me?" he holds up his finger and pretends to ponder, "No I'm sorry, you really like me," his smile widens as he looks at you. You feel warmth in your cheeks and look away.

"Yeah, that."

"Well, I really like you too."

Your eyes widen and you look up at him. James uses his thumb to lift your chin. You realize how close your body is to his and your breath hitches in your throat. James's hand moves to your cheek, caressing it softly as you whisper, "You do?"

James lets out a breathy chuckle. "Of course I do. You're beautiful, kind, incredibly smart it's annoying," his eyes are full of admiration, "What's there not to like, darlin'?"

You frown, glancing quickly at the emblem stitched onto my robes and then you look at him again. "But, I'm a Slytherin. I didn't even think you ever knew who I was until last week. We've never really talked."

James's smile falters and his thumb moves behind your ear as he holds your cheek. "That's my fault. I should have said something sooner but with my reputation and all," he looks away, his face twisted in shame, "I didn't want to scare you away."

You see the sincerity in his eyes but ask wearily, "So it doesn't bother you?"

"That you're in Slytherin?" James smiles a little. "No, it doesn't, love. I don't care. I've seen how you are and I think you're absolutely lovely," he catches himself, "I mean, I'm not saying Slytherin's aren't lovely,"

You shut him up with a kiss. It's confident and startling but James doesn't complain. He simply pulls you in closer and lets his mouth explore yours with a passion he didn't know he had. He didn't know how starved he was of your taste until now.

Fuck, he's fucked.

You pull away, lips wet and stare at him. "Sorry," you mutter.

"Sorry?" James frowns and leans in to kiss you again, "Don't you dare be sorry. Just kiss me," his words leave you a mush in his arms and you're happy for his hand around your back because otherwise you would fall over.

When he finally disconnects your lips, he leans his forehead on yours and whispers what he'd been thinking, "You'll kill me, love."

You smile and hold his arm. "Thanks for saving me by the way, when I was under the potion," you say.

James leans away and studies your soft expression with a small smile. "I'd be an asshole not to help you. I didn't want to see you get hurt."

"Still, if you hadn't seen that something was wrong I don't know what would have happened."

"Nothing would have happened because I was there," James insists and kisses your forehead, "I'll always be there." He adds in a whisper into your hair.

It's only for him to hear. He doesn't want to just tell you he's there for you, instead he wants to show you. Everyday.

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mphountitled · 7 months

Note

COULD U DO MATTHEO X F READER DURING HER OVULATION WEEK AND SHES SUPER NEEDY AND HORNY? (Pls I’m ovulating and craving ur fics so bad babe😭🙏🧎🏼‍♀️)

I love how feral this is lmfao -

𝐍𝐨 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐬 | 𝐌.𝐑.

Mattheo Riddle x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Established Relationship, Dark Fic, Violence, Language, Mention of drugs and alcohol, Slight fluff, Public Affections, Possessiveness, Smut (+18), Dirty Talk, Touch starvation, Fingering, Humping, Grinding, Whining, Sub/Dom Undertones, Blood Kink, Fighting Kink?, Squirting, Major Degradation, Praise Kink, Breeding Kink, Slight Humiliation Kink

The night is deep, and the dungeon is dim as a few sunken eyes peer curiously at you while you make your way through the crowd. Seeing you emerge from within the walls of your private dorm room was a rare and curious sight for everyone involved. It was especially rare for you to embed yourself amongst your fellow pupils shenanigans, seeing yourself as above such baseless devilment.

You were not here for them.

You were scanning the crowd for him because an unfamiliar warmth had been festering inside your stomach and it had propelled your feet forward, until you reached the very centre of the Slytherin soiree commencing in the common room.

Your core is still aching with the after affects of your fingers as you manoeuvre your way through the party. You were touching yourself under satin sheets only moments ago-spurred on by the imaginings of his bloodied fingers slipping inside you, stabbing your cunt until you mewled like a useless whore and he affirmed you as such. His recklessness and delinquency cracked something vital in your brain and you felt yourself get wetter as you pushed through the crowd. You needed him to touch you, your body practically burned for him to absolutely ruin you, and you set out to do just that.

Although you had turned down a concoction of Firewhiskey from an already inebriated Ravenclaw student, your stomach burns with the anticipation of seeing him.

Feeling him.

Smelling his near constant fragrance of Firewhiskey along his lips. You were never clingy but you wished for nothing more than to be in the presence of your insufferable and clingy boyfriend.

A month into your courtship, and you had failed to bring up how much of his habits bypass all sensibilities in your brain. If only he knew how much his recklessness brought about an unmistakable moisture in between your thighs. That,coupled with his bruised and bloody knuckles, spurred on your need, especially during this time of the month.

It had been easy to maintain your composure throughout the rest of the month, effortless, even. Detachment and independence was a by-product of your personality, showing up in the way you shied away from Mattheo's public affections and always appearing uninterested in any of his verbal charms.

One such occasion; you had found him taking up purchase on your bed after an incredibly tiresome day as a Slytherin prefect.

"Make yourself scarce, Riddle. I'm not in the mood," He, of course, was delighted in your indifference- truthfully, he basked in it. Mattheo was somewhat of a masochist, craving the attention of someone so emotionally detached. The very second he noticed how unaffected you appeared with his shenanigans. He might as well have transfigured into a mermaid, because he was hooked.

"How easy you are to repel my affections," He said, letting a bandaged hand fall on his chest as he lay supine like a starfish on your Satin sheets, "How swiftly you deny my companionship-"

"Dont you have any orphans to torture?"

You mourn the past you... how indifferent she had been.

How utterly in control!

The bed dipped as he slithered closer, letting a hand rest on your shoulders as he began to knead the tense muscle there.

"Don't I get a 'How was your day, Riddle?' How did you sleep, Riddle? How did you acquire these bruises, Riddle, and I hope you looked hot doing it, Riddle" it was then that you glanced at the hand on your shoulder. Busted knuckles bred bloodied and broken skin. Riddle's hand was a smorgasbord of cuts and bruises that disappeared up his black, cotton sleeve shirt. You ignored the useless warmth knotting in your core as you continued to undo your shoelaces.

"I needn't ask you because I know you were in the centre of yet another degenerate fight," you had said, burying all the feelings of need amongst your usual, scholarly distractions.

"You love it"

"I hate it actually. It makes me question my affiliation with you.

"You say that princess, but you secretly love it"

You did love it, and right now, distracting yourself is not an option. You watch with bated breath as the object of your affections walks into the Slytherin common rooms. There are plenty of bodies swaying in the dungeons illuminated by various Ravenclaws who have casted Lumos

You see Riddle across the room, head thrown back while he nursed a cup of Firewhiskey. When his head comes back, he sees you too, he raises his cup and he pushes himself off the wall to lessen the distance between you. Your legs certainly achieve a quicker gait as you push past the swaying bodies and soon enough you're bombarded by firewhiskey, with an undercurrent of sweat and leather.

The second you’re close, Riddle lowers his cup on the desk, already having his explanations ready for the impending combat. "If you think I'm gonna let you take my freedom away again, you’re fucking crazy. I'm barely buzzed and I'm getting drunk, or high by the end of this night and there's nothing you-" But your fist is already digging into the softness of his button up shirt and your lips are open as you force them onto his.

Right there, in the open.

Mattheo is naturally stunned, possibly discombobulated.

Had he really gotten higher than he thought?

Did that fucking Hufflepuff make him a stepped on joint?

Frankly, he couldn't care less, and as the shock of it all wore down, and he could feel you begin to slip away, Mattheo slithers his battered hand around your waist and pulls you impossibly close. He smirks into the kiss, as he brings his hand up, fingers gliding across your collarbone, while the other hand lingers around your waist.

"What happened to your hand?" It is a question that threatens to burst the bubble established between the two of you. Why would you ask him this? Why would you bring him back to the events of earlier today when you were so prettily malleable in his hands right now?

"Nothing,"

"Matt..." You say, clouding your words with innuendo, which has him looking up at you with furrowed brows.

"Nott," Is all he says before he buries himself in the crook of your neck. His proximity awakens something animalistic inside of you, it pushes you to the depths of your lascivious desires and has you melting right there on the dance floor. All around you, fellow Slytherins continue to sway to the beat, letting the thrum of the enchanted muggle music speak for them. You throw your head back, gasping at the overwhelming need pooling in your core as Riddle begins to send reckless kisses down your collarbone, all while you imagine beating another guy silly. You blame your cycle. You blame your body. You blame every single hormone responsible for allowing you to emit such a wanton moan so openly in the very centre of a crowd.

"Who do I have to kill in order to get this reaction out of you everyday?" Mattheo is panting, with his hazel eyes dilated (whether from pleasure or substance, you might never know). Who do I have to curse in order to get you to be this slutty for me every single day?" His breathing is shallow and audible, even through all the noise. Mattheo's mind is foggy and the party guests are reduced to a memory. The only image he's able to conjure up is his lips between your wet folds - his tongue eager to find the source of your need while you moaned above him and kneaded your own breasts in a slutty haze.

"I need you, Mattheo," it was fucking infuriating to admit but the wetness has completely soaked through your underwear and a fresh scar is present in the corner of Mattheo's eye. There's a slight red smudge under his nose, and his knuckles are red and angry at the best of your neck, cradling your head close to his.

"Say that again-"

"What? No, I will not fucking-"

Mattheo's grip on your neck immediately unhooks and he detangles your limbs but before he ventures any furthers you're pulling him down to you and with your lips to Mattheo's greedy ears you angrily mutter, "I fucking need you. I need you really badly,"

He stares in your desperate, dark eyes with wonder and awe before letting your wrist be enclosed by his iron grip. Soon, you're being dragged through a Slytherin party with a boy adjusting the front lf his pants and barking orders at the drunken strangers to move before they fucking died.

Just as you succeed in cutting through the crowd a voice stops both of you in your tracks.

"I'm going to fucking kill you, Riddle," the voice booms from over the thumping bass of whatever muggle music was enchanted over the dungeon. Mattheo's gaze cuts away from you, but before he turns completely away, a slow Cheshire cat grin curls at the ends of his lips.

"That threat has grown so unimaginably tedious after years of overuse, Theo but I can't do this right now-" His sentence has already been cut short by an audible blow to his lower jaw. Theo Nott blocked your path towards the darkened hallway, leading to your dorm room and you're left wholly unsatisfied as Mattheo is sent barreling backwards. He lets go of your hand, stopping to wipe the wetness at the corners of his lips and checking to see if it's blood. It is. And something scratches inside of you.

The Prefect inside you wants to intervene but an even darker part of you tells you not to.

Theo is livid, and his wide chest rises and falls as he descends on Mattheo,

"Why the fuck am I being told by Draco of all people, that I can't play Keeper because I'm stuck in the hospital wing-"

"Theo, I really don't have the time for this-" Mattheo begins, but Theo cuts him short,

"Are you trying to steal my fucking place, Riddle?"

Mattheo's voice is leveled as he raises his fingers and says, "Okay, first off, yeah, I am. Obviously I'm trying to take your place. You're a shit Keeper and secondly, I've got somewhere to be," Theo's barreling towards Mattheo once more.

A silly, borderline maniacal smirk explodes on Riddle's face before he makes the shotgun decision to charge and lands a punch at Theo's jaw, allowing for the taller boy to stagger backwards. Your shoulders jump, and you flinch at the sickening sound as you watch with a wide gaze as Mattheo nurses his hurt hand. Theo is a raging bull, but Draco appears from the crowd, with a firm grip on Theo's shoulder. A stern, quiet reprimand.

At the exact same moment, Mattheo's hand finds yours and he smirks as he stalks past Nott, wiping away at his chin as he leads you towards your dorm.

The quietness within is almost jarring compared to the noise out there and as soon as the door closes, Mattheo's lips descend on your neck, "I know, I know," He sighs heavily, as he brings his hand up to your shoulder, "I’m sorry. I just hope I haven't ruined the vibe-"

"I want your fingers inside me, Riddle." He stills at your quiet command, and you leave him standing by the door as you pad over to your bed. "I don't know why, but I just need you, okay? And my own fingers aren't quite doing the trick and I keep thinking about how fucking crazy you are and-", You sigh as you sit at the foot of the bed. Lifting the skirt of your dress, Mattheo watches in the dimness of your room as you venture your fingers under your dress and hook them into your panties. He walks towards you, propelling the wings of the butterflies in your stomach.

All he says is, "Which hand?" He doesn't know why he asks, but he does and his voice is barely above a whisper as he hopes you pick the right answer. His cock twitches in his underwear at the thought of seeing his blood on your skin.

Mattheo stops in between your legs, causing the fabric of the dress to rise while a breeze drifts over your soaked pussy. You bend forward and reach for his bloodied hand.

"I want your fingers inside me,"

Mattheo's resolve immediately snaps and his hands grip tightly at your hips, pushing you backwards and exposing your wet core to him.

"You're fucking dripping through the sheets like a slut- you're a fucking slut,"

Excitement. It rushes through you like a wave of magma at the neediness in his own voice.

Matheo rushes to rid both of you of the excess fabric, casting Evansco, until all he can see is your warm, glistening skin.

"Oh my fuck-" Mattheo's voice cracks as he stares down at your aching cunt, his fingers almost instinctively rubbing over the wetness.

"Touch your breasts," He commands, "I wanna see you do it,"

Your eyes pierce into his dark ones as you bring a shaky hand up towards your puckered nipples. The smallest brush elicits a violent streak of pleasure which would have occupied your entire mind were it not for Mattheo's long fingers already stabbing into your dripping cunt.

"Fuck, you're so wet," He whines, unconsciously burying his hips into the sheets at the foot of your bed as he watches. He is utterly transfixed by his middle and ring finger disappearing into your cunt. Every time they sink deeper your mind gets filled with images of Riddle's unrest and violence. You're utterly wrecked with the thought of his bloodied fingers being inside you, touching the most private parts of you.

"Pick up the pace, Riddle,"

"Shut the fuck up," He mumbles as he takes his time in exploring the very depths of you. Your voice soars to higher octaves as you feel your first orgasm cresting quite literally against your will. How utterly embarrassing, to cum so quickly.

"You're fucking squeezing my fingers- fuck-" You're desperately humping at his hand, hoping your hips might achieve the feat of sinking his fingers further into you. "You're humping my hand so fucking well." His cock aches as he continues to grind it into the sheets, in tandem with your swollen cunt taking his fingers.

"Are you seriously going to cum so soon? Are you that desperate to get fucked-" Your cunt spasms around his fingers and you're moaning as you squeeze your sensitive breasts, already soaring to the heights of your orgasm. Your screams rival the music outside but Riddle never tells you to keep quiet, instead he watches with hungry eyes as your body melts into its orgasm.

"Look at what the fuck you've done," Mattheo's words have you slowly coming back to earth, but not quite... his voice is heavy with lust as you raise yourself by your elbows. Your stomach sinks as you watch Mattheo, he's frozen in front of you, with his head lowered and his gaze on his palm.

"I-I'm sorry-" Your sheets were soaked with your release, leaving a visible damp spot. You squirted everywhere.

"You're gonna do that on my cock," before you can comprehend your words Mattheo already has his cock positioned at your wet folds.

"I'm going to fucking cum inside you and you're going to take it, yeah?" The serious shadow in his darkened eyes hold no room for negotiation, you'd never seen Mattheo quite this serious because seriousness just didn't run in his bloodstream. However, he's utterly ruined by your neediness, needing to take advantage of your compliance before it slipped through his fingers.

"Oh my fuck- Mattheo!"He pulls your hips towards the edge of the bed and his cock forces itself through your folds, until Mattheo is quite literally fucking you with reckless abandon.

"Matt- I can't-'' You're still riding on the sensitivity of your previous high and you think Mattheo could be a little mindful of this but his goal, it seems, is to leave you overstimulated.

"You can," he mumbles, with his eyes squeezing shut before he quickly opens them, wanting to see every emotion flowing over your face.

"You're a slut but you're not a useless slut, are you?" You tits bounce with every movement of Mattheo's hips, and you're shaking your head despite the fog. Your cunt is squeezing the life out of his cock and you feel him pushing at a very sensitive part of you.

Your head is buried in the pillows as your back arches and you swallow him deeper.

Mattheo bends forward, his hips quickening into a needy, restless rut as his teeth sink into the skin around your nipples.

"FUCK-" The pain bleeds into pleasure which streams into your next orgasm. Riddle moans around your skin, suckling at your nipple while he fucked you like he is as touch starved as you are.

"I'm cumming, Matt-" The fact that you're still able to form words is a complete and utter mystery because, not a second later, you're exploding around his cock. A gushing, clear liquid rushes through you while your lips chant his name like a prayer.

"I'm going to fucking breed you, baby- oh fuck, you're so pretty squirting around my cock-" the cracks in his voice; the desperation laced on every word has him cumming inside you, pushing his hips with every spurt of warmth.

You're still shuddering when Mattheo slumps over you. You're both huffing and puffing and basking in each other's release with his cock still very much inside you. "You're getting a contraception potion from Madame Pomfrey tomorrow," you can do nothing except nod as your satisfaction settles.

"I'll come with you," He says.

#mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle #mattheo x y/n #mattheo x you #hp fanfcition #hp fanfic #hp smut #harry potter x reader #harry potter smut #harry potter fanfic #mattheo riddle x black!reader #x reader

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msvanillalatte · 4 months

Text

Feel You Deep

NSFW. MDNI.

WARNINGS: Smut, piv, overstimulation, dom Theo, sub reader, praising, dumbification, a bit of subspace, begging, teasing, dirty talk, pet names, use of the name daddy (not always), breeding kink, size kink?, a tiny bit of aftercare.

Let me know if I missed any, please!

SMUT UNDER THE CUT!

Theo's tip was teasing your clit. You needed him inside you after hours of edging, eating your cunt like a starved man, never letting you feel the true orgasm.

-"You wanna feel me inside you, sweetheart? Just a bit more, I promise, and you'll have my cock deep inside your pussy."

Theo said making you moan and whimper at the dirty talk.

-"Please Theo, please. i.. I need you. I need to feel you please please"

Theo smirked as you begged, watching your arousal mixed with his saliva spilling out of your little cunt.

-"I don't think it will fit, love. What do you think? Can this little pussy take my big cock? Hm?"

Theo said teasingly, making your cunt clench around nothing, feeling even more frustrated.

-"It will! I know it will! I'll take it like a good girl, please, please, I need to feel y... OH!"

You moaned when Theo pushed the tip inside you, your walls stretching and pulsating with desire. Theo looked at you with dark eyes, filled with lust.

-"You wanna come, sweetheart? There's not going back, yeah? I'm sure you'll take it all like a good girl."

Theo slowly pushed his cock all the way, your walls swallowing and almost suffocating him. He was completely inside you, feeling him everywhere. His tip was brushing your cervix, making you cry out in pleasure, but he let you adjust.

-"Look at that, pretty. Look at how good you're taking me, such a good girl. Fuck... Such a tight little pussy, so perfect around me."

At a slow peace, Theo started thrusting inside you deeply, making you moan his name over and over again. Your cunt was aching to be filled to the brim, just like now. Theo groaned, kissing your neck.

-"S.. so big. Oh my god! That feels so good T... THEO!"

You moaned loudly when the tip of Theo's cock hit that little spongy spot that makes your pussy clench and scream. Surely, the neighbours already know what's happening.

Theo's thrusting speeded, always hitting that spot, making you see blurry and tear up, it felt so good. Your moans were high, Theo hardening even more while hearing your desperate screams and praising you.

-"You like that, huh? Feels good, honey? Let me take care of you, yeah? I'll make you feel good, fill you with my babies, yeah? Good fucking girl"

Theo was kissing your neck, thrusting into you and sneaking his hand between you two to rub your clit, it was so overwhelming. Your walls clenched even more, indicating that you were close.

-"T... Theo, I'm close, please please please let me cum. Please"

-"Go ahead pretty girl, make a mess on my cock. Milk me, yeah? I've got you, so pretty when you make those noises and tighten around me."

And with that you came around Theo's dick, while his hand was still circling your clit. He rode out your orgasm, but didn't stop. He kept thrusting into you, and dirty talking. You knew that Theo had high stamina, but you hoped that he was close.

-"S'too much! Feels good!"

-"I know beautiful, I know, you did so well, but you can take more. Take daddy's cock like a good girl, yeah? You can."

Theo was thrusting even faster now, but it was difficult for him, your walls were the tightest they've ever been, making it hard to pull out.

-"Sweetheart, I need you to relax for me. I promise it'll feel good, c'mon, you can do it. Let daddy push all the way in. Oh, look at that, do you feel me in your stomach, angel?"

Theo said while looking at the bulge that appeared in your belly when he thrusted. He presses down on it, getting you to your high even faster, his cock hitting your cervix.

-"I'm so deep inside you, baby. Want me to breed you like my own little slut? Fucking hell, you feel like heaven, my girl."

Theo's praise brought you to your second orgasm, triggering his first one. You were shaking, but Theo didn't stop. He was breeding you like he owned you, and his thrusting didn't slow down, in fact, he went harder.

-"Theo! I can't take it, please, no more, no more... P... PLEASE!"

Theo didn't stop, he wanted to see you break one last time. He wanted to see you convulse underneath him, he wanted to feel you spasm around his cock. His mind was filled with absolute lust.

-"Pretty girl, weren't you the one begging for my cock before? I know you can take one more, honey. For me, yeah?"

You started scratching Theo's back while he rubbed circles on your bundle of nerves and left hickeys all over you. It was too much, you were completely in subspace, not even thinking. He was fucking you dumb.

-"You look so beautiful when you moan like that, does my cock filling you up and stretching you feel good? I bet it does, you're clenching so tight 'round me. Oh fuck... If you keep doing that I'll come again, sweetheart. So pretty for me, only for me, yeah? Let me feel you cum around my cock one last time."

That was it. You came. Hard. Your thighs started shaking, your back arching and your eyes rolling to the back of your head. The sight in front of Theo was mesmerising, making him come inside you again.

-"Fuck, look so pretty like this, honey, yeah, take it, I'm filling you up like a good girl, so filthy with my babies."

Theo pulled out of you, feeling exhausted. He was lying on top of you, both breathing heavily. You couldn't move your legs, they felt sore and all of your body was sweaty.

-"You did so good sweetheart, wanna take a bath? Yeah, let me help you."

Theo carried you to the bathroom and cleaned you up while praising you. When he was done he dressed you up and himself and cuddles in the bed.

-"I love you so much, my perfect princess."- Theo said while kissing your forehead.

-"Love you too, Theo."- You sleepily said and slowly drifted off to a deep sleep.

1036 words.

SORRY IF I MADE ANY GRAMMAR OR MISTAKE IN GENERAL, ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE!! :)

-MsVanillaLatte

#harry potter #theo nott #theodore nott #theo nott smut #theodore nott smut #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #smut #fanfic #oneshot #writing #fluff #fiction #hp #hp fandom #slytherin

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fangisms · 6 months

Note

hiii i loved „spring breaks loose”!!🤍 could i request another something for theodore, where the reader is quite bubbly and loves talking and he, the quiet guy he is, just likes to listen? and maybe the reader is worried that she talks too much and it could be annoying to him but he’s just so in love that he’s obsessed with all her rabling😭😭 sorry if thats too specific

darling socialite

A/N: um i love this because if someone let me chat their ear off, i would fall in love. i love a chatter and i love a listener 🩷 gif creds: @perfectlyfuckingcivils

Pairings: Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader

Summary: You are talkative as all hell, and Theo has dubbed himself your devoted listener. 1.3k words

Warnings: i be cursing, fluff, mild self-consciousness, two dummies in LOVE, mattheo being a perv (boy moment), kissing…, pansy being a slight bitch (lovingly)

Everyday, you look forward to telling Theo anything and everything. Sometimes, you'll get so excited to tell him something that you'll jot it down on the nearest surface. Most of the time, that surface is your hand. Who can blame you; you can't resist the gory details.

Everyday, Theo looks forward to hearing anything and everything from you. You're his favorite news source, his sweetest messenger, his darling socialite, and he is your devoted subscriber. He's worried one day you'll run out of things to tell him, but according to the ink splotches across your skin, there's a slim chance that'll happen.

"Hi, teddy!" you chirp, and he turns to welcome you into the seat beside him. "You will not believe what I saw in the courtyard on my way here: a willow tit!"

Mattheo chokes on a gulp of juice, sputtering in his seat and looking over at you. "Pardon?"

"Don't be crude, Matty. I'm talking about birds."

"Yeah, I got that, I just never realized you’re playing for the other team—"

"Mattheo!" you holler, glaring at him in utter disbelief, "you complete idiot! Birds, as in real birds. As in those things that fly around and chirp and eat berries!"

"Let me get this straight, we're not talking about some bird's tits? Suddenly, I'm uninterested," he says, earning a pointed glare from Theo.

"Anyway," you say, rolling your eyes and facing Theo, "You hardly see them anymore, they're very rare, but I saw one, and it was the cutest creature I've ever seen on campus! It was so round, I could have died. He must've liked all the rain we got over the weekend. I hope he survives the winter and has lots of little tit babies in the spring!"

Theo could not be more head over heels for you while you babble about round tits and babies. He thinks if he ever opens his mouth to respond, he’ll screw it up in an instant. Thank Merlin, he's naturally quiet and content to listen to you all day. And thank Merlin, you never ask for anything more from him.

If only you knew how much he truly adores you and your ramblings. He holds your company in his highest regard and considers every time you choose him a blessing.

You never think too much of Theo's tight-lippedness. You figure if he was completely sick of it, he'd just get up and walk away. Or maybe that's not like him, and maybe you are a bother.

It doesn't help when Pansy skips up to you in the hall and says, "I'm really impressed you're able to hold Theo's attention as long as you do."

"What are you talking about, P?" you say.

"Well... don't you ever worry he's, like... bored with you? I mean, when was the last time he actually contributed to your 'conversations'. I just don't want you to get your hopes up, you know?" —she shrugs it off like it's not an unforgivable curse to the gut—"If I were you, I'd find a more attentive playmate. You can always talk to me!"

"Thanks, Pansy," you say.

"Just looking out for a friend! See ya!"

You nod and wait by the bottom of the stairs as she hops her way up. You didn't think you were getting your hopes up, necessarily. You thought Theo was just a good listener. And sure, he's not super responsive, but he's just shy. That's not his fault.

…

There's a rapping of knuckles at the door, and Mattheo hurdles his bed and reaches for the knob.

"Why, good evening, dearest birdwatcher"—Theo perks up from where he's rifling through his trunk.

"I could say the same to you, perv," you tease, "Is Theo around? I need—"

"To talk to him? Figures. He's just hiding his softcore stash—"

"Shut up!" Theo hollers, popping up and hurrying to the door, a little flushed to find you looking at him, "he's just joking."

Mattheo chuckles, "No, he's right, Theo would never have so much fun"—he dodges the jab to his side—"Alright, I'll leave you two lovebirds to your tits and whatnot. Try not to make too much noise, we have downstairs neighbors." He winks and makes his way down the boys dormitories stairwell.

And suddenly, Theo can't remember the last time he was truly alone with you. No onlookers or eavesdroppers, no Pansy and no Mattheo. Just the two of you. His sweaty palms and your rapid heartbeat.

"I need to ask you something," you finally blurt. He looked so nervous you thought he might throw up over the railing, so you put him out of his misery before he has the chance.

"Yes, yeah, anything," he huffs.

"Well," you say, "I was thinking—just... ruminating, really, because it was suggested that I bore you with my chattiness"—you cross your arms over your chest and look to the floor—"and not that I'm begging for pity or even a response, I just wanted to know how you feel because I realized maybe I don't ask about you enough. You know, like I'm always worried about me, or something, but I do worry about you, too! I just wasn't sure if that's something—if you maybe wanted to talk about it more. Because I can be a good listener! I'd be happy to hear whatever you have to say!"

Theo leans his shoulder against the doorframe, adjusting the bottom of his sweater as it clings to his hips. How could he let you believe you're too much for him. How could he let you believe yourself to be some kind of social burden to him. All because he'd much rather listen to you than contribute his own two cents.

"See! Merlin, even now, I've just talked your ear off while trying to apologize for constantly talking your ear off! And I haven't even apologized, yet! I'm so sorry, Theo, I know it's a problem, and I didn't mean to take advantage of your politeness."

You scuff your sole on the landing with a whine, and he leans to the side to watch you look over the edge. It's so quiet for a moment, he can hear your soft breathing if he focuses on it.

"It's not a problem," Theo says. You look over, lips parted at the smug look on his face. "And if I was the one who suggested otherwise, I couldn't be more apologetic."

It makes you smile. He's just said two very thoughtful things to you. Out loud. To your face. You could crumble.

"No! No, teddy, it wasn't you, it was... doesn't matter. You really don't mind?"

He shakes his head, a little amused, honestly. How could he mind? You’re the greatest thing since dark chocolate, and he’d still give that up. You’d go just as well with his afternoon tea.

“Well, then,” you huff, warmer under his gaze, determined to get this damned apology across.

“Alright,” Theo says. Apology accepted. Apology not even necessary. But still accepted.

“Okay. But next time you catch me rambling, you better just shut me up! Tell me to ‘shush’ or something! It’s a problem, and I give you full permission to—”

He kisses you. He leans down, smug with his fingers under your chin, and he kisses you! Shuts you right up like you’re still some gullible first year completely wooed by his boyish charms! Oh, but he’s kissing you very sweetly. And when your knees go a tad wobbly, he rushes to cradle your elbow.

“Like that?” he says.

“That’s no way to treat a lady, Theodore. You should be completely ashamed of yourself for ever thinkin—”

He kisses you again. More sure and much quicker. Like a reflex. A knee jerk reaction without the kneeing or the jerking. Just his stupidly soft lips.

“Yeah,” you whisper, “that works… but you can’t just kiss me every time you want to shut me up.”

“No”—he pecks your lips, fingers gentle at your cheek—“I plan on kissing you much more often than that.”

masterlist

#theo nott #theodore nott #theo nott fluff #theodore nott fluff #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #fluff #fanfic #hp universe #x reader #fanfiction #x female reader #x fem!reader #theo nott x fem!reader #friends to lovers

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mrsriddlenott · 6 months

Text

~ Costume? That’s Barley Clothes.~

Theo Nott x fem!Reader

[masterlist]

Summary: Malfoy!Reader who’s annoyed that they can’t be Theo’s date to the Halloween party dresses up to get his attention and ends up with more than one set of eyes on her. This is kinda short, I just wanted a Halloween themed oneshot.

Warnings:Possessive Behavior,Jealousy, Secret Relationship,Toxic(ish)Theo,Smut,Choking, Creampie.

“Baby, you know I’d go with you if it were up to me. I thought he wouldn’t be there I’m sorry.” Theo was annoyed to say the least, not only did his plan fail miserably, but you also seemed to blame him for it. The only reason he even wanted to go to this stupid party was for you, but of course Draco just had to decide last minute he wanted to go after all.

“I’m sorry, I know you wanted to dress up but he’s not gonna sit this party out.” You just eyed the much taller boy, he hadn’t put on his costume yet and could easily decide to stay with you but, “He’d get suspicious,” like it would be the end of the world if Draco knew. All you could do was roll your eyes with a sigh, laying down on your bed with a book as Theo watched you.

“Are you gonna say anything?” You just huffed at him, meeting his eyes for a second before returning to pretending to read your book, “If Draco found out I ditched the party he’s gonna come looking, and if he finds he in his little sister’s dorm he’d throw a fit.” You slammed your book shut, crossing your arms with furrowed brows before eyeing him from where you sat.

“His little sister huh?” You were frustrated, you couldn’t tell what he wanted anymore. One minute he’d be calling you his sweetheart, future wife and mother of his children, and the next he’d barley look at you, laughing in the Common Room from jokes Draco makes at your expense. “Just go to your party, I’m not some little kid who’s gonna cry without your attention for an hour,”

You huffed as his jaw clenched, eyeing you with a flash of anger, “I didn’t say you were a little kid, It’s just that if D-“

“Yeah I know if Draco finds out you’re in trouble,” You sighed as you rolled your eyes, slipping off your bed and leaving Theo trailing you with his darkening eyes, “I’m gonna take a shower, have fun at the party.”

Theo grumbled to himself as he left your dorm, slamming the door behind him as hard as he could just as you slammed the bathroom door. You sighed to yourself as you stared into your mirror, you weren’t just gonna sit out on your last Hogwarts Halloween party with Theo and he should have known that. You quickly threw on your costume and did your makeup light, wanting the glittery cat ears on your head to be the center of attention.

You wore a small black dress that could honestly barley be called a dress, paired with black heels that would bring your height to only a couple inches under Theo. You let your hair fall straight behind your shoulders, holding it back with the cat-ear headband, black eyeliner bringing out the color of your eyes with classic red lipstick drawing attention to your lips. You decided for no bra to let the dress hug your figure entirely, pulling it all together with a tight black belt adorned with a sleek black cat’s tail.

Goosebumps covered your skin as you made your way up the stairs to the packed Slytherin Common Room. A haze of smoke flitted over the various packs of dancing and conversing students while you made your way through to Draco and his friends usual spot.

Your skimpy black cat costume was basic, but a classic that was sure to drive Theo crazy. Your eyes met his as soon as the crowd parted to let you through to the group, leaving almost immediately to rake his eyes across your body as you approached. However you completely ignored him, walking up to Draco and announcing your presence before slipping away to get a drink, feeling Theo’s dead eyes stare into your back as you did so.

You hastily filled a glass with spiked punch and leant against the table with a sigh as the lanky figure of Lorenzo Berkshire approached the drink table only a few feet away from the group,“I didn’t know you were gonna be here tonight,” You eyed his loose button up and black jeans, he wasn’t wearing costume and if he was you had no clue what it was but you didn’t mind. He’d do.

“I wasn’t planning to at first,” You lied, turning to fully face the tall brunette, feeling Theo’s burning gaze on you both now, “But since it’s all you guy’s last year I figured I should come to as many parties as possible this year, don’t you agree?”

You maintained eye contact with Enzo as you lightly bit your lip, watching his eyes fall to watch it bounce back in place before meeting yours again. His eyes lingered in yours for a second as a smile slowly grew on his face. “I’m gonna be honest here, I thought you and Theo might’ve had something going on.” Enzo’s voice was low and intoxicating as he inched closer to you. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Theo zoning in on the words spoken between you and his friend with a clenched jaw, no longer trying to hide his annoyance.

You laughed sweetly at up at Enzo as he eyed you with his bloodshot gaze, “Theo? He’s just my brother’s best friend Lorenzo, why would there be anything going on between us?” You had to make an effort to keep your eyes on the lean boy in front of you as his hand found it’s way to your waist, he tugged you closer to him slightly just as the shadow of Theodore Nott engulfed you.

“Walk away Enzo.” The boy in front of you retreated with raised hands and a mocking smile, sending you a wink that made you giggle as he slipped into the crowd, much to Theo’s dismay. Theo’s large hand took in your wrist as he tugged you toward the boys’s dorms. “Aren’t you afraid Draco will see you leave with me Teddy?”

You forced the most sincere voice you could muster, poking out your lip in a dratamatic pout as he turned to you with daring eyes, “I don’t fucking care.” He spat, tugging you into his dorm room before slamming the door shut behind you both.

“What the fuck are you wearing first of all?” Theo snapped, turning to meet your eyes as he loosened the tie around his neck with a huff. You looked down at your dress then back to him with your eyebrows furrowed before simply saying, “A costume.”

“A costume?” He chuckled, poking his tongue into his cheek as he eyed your body again, “That’s barely clothes.” Theo sighed, eyes dead and set into yours before eyeing your outfit again, though this time he didn’t seem to have a problem with it at all.

“It’s the same thing I would have been wearing if you came with me,” You huffed, crossing your arms with a roll of your eyes before meeting his gaze again with a challenging stare.

“That’s different, I’d have been with you.” You narrowed your eyes at him as he spoke, taking in his sentence with a laugh and shake of your head. “So maybe you should have come with me?”

“I would have if it weren’t for your annoying ass brother,” He snapped, stepping closer as you stood your ground in front of his bed. “Speaking of which, I’m just Draco’s best friend now? Last time I fucking checked not all of Draco’s best friends get to fuck you almost every weekend,” He shouted, his eyes bore directly into yours but you didn’t waver. He didn’t scare you and he knew that, but you both knew you probably should have feared him a little.

“Well I guess I could change that couldn’t I, Enzo seemed rather eager, maybe I’ll start with him.” You laughed, biting at your lip and going to turn around before feeling Theo’s large hands dig into your arms, turning you to face him as he shoved you into the end post of his bed.

“Watch your fucking mouth,” His voice was strained, clearly hurt by your jab but you didn’t care, though you probably should have. “Or what?” Your voice dripped with desire as his face edged closer to yours, your thighs clenching together subconsciously and before your knew it his lips were on yours in a hungry kiss. His hands fell to your waist as yours wrapped around to meet in his hair, tugging at it to egg him on as he lifted you just to toss you on his bed.

“You’re a fucking brat.” He growled, crawling up your body as his eyes dug into you before smashing his lips back against yours. Face paint and lipstick smeared together, ending up in each other’s mouths as your teeth clattered together. “Now I’m gonna have to teach Enzo a lesson on who he can and cannot touch because of you.” He whispered into your mouth making you shiver and sending a rush of warmth directly to your core.

Theo’s lips and teeth worked down your neck, nipping at it and leaving a trail of bruises in their wake as his hands worked to push up your dress. You fumbled with his belt, the metal clinking together loudly as you tugged it off of him and tossed it aside before eagerly unbuttoning his pants and pushing them down. Theo quickly moved your panties to the side, lining himself up and meeting your gaze for consent with hooded eyes before filling you up entirely.

He immediately set a ruthless pace, staring into your eyes as he groaned and grabbed at your neck, “If your eyes leave mine you don’t get to come until I say so, understand?”

Your thoughts jumbled together as Theo hit your g-spot over and over, working overtime just to form the word “yes” while Theo picked up his pace. He kept one hand gripping your neck tightly as the other held onto your hip with a brutal grip. “You’re mine Baby, I don’t fucking care who knows anymore. You are mine.” He growled, mostly speaking to himself as he lost himself in your soft walls.

You moaned up at him as you dragged your nails down his toned back pulling a groan from him before wrapping your legs entirely around him and trapping him between them. Theo began speaking Italian down to you, still fucking into you while watching your face intently, you couldn’t understand a single thing he was saying making you glow bright red as he chuckled down to you.

“You’re absolutely gorgeous.” He muttered as his hips smacked against yours repeatedly, filling the room with the obscene combination of the smack of skin mixing with your moans and the creak of the bed drowning out his whispers of praise. “You feel so fucking good baby, I’m gonna fucking cum. Can I fill you up Baby?”

You moaned his named loudly as he tugged you closer to him by your neck, stealing your breath as you desperately mumbled a yes into his mouth. His hips snapped into yours faster as his hand fell between your legs, fingers finding your clit immediately to pull out your orgasm. You clenched around Theo as he hissed and sped of his thrusts, driving into you harder as he stuttered and moaned loudly. Your name repeatedly falling from his lips as he came deep inside of you pushing you over the edge, you clamped around him while your legs shook and your head became cloudy only being able to think of Theo as he fell on top of you completely.

Theo slowly pushed himself up further to look down at you, your face, neck, and shoulders smeared with his face paint and red lipstick just as his was, your hair a mess on his pillows, your eyes teary and staring up at him. He swore he’d never seen anything so perfectly ruined in his life.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Draco stood in the doorway, sighing into his hand after taking in the scene in front of him. His best friend had his sister in their dorm, that they shared. “Eh put a fucking sock on the door next time or something.”

Theo turned quickly as the door slammed shut before he could glimpse his friend, “Does that mean he’s not gonna hex me?” Theo asked, eyes fixed on the cloak swinging back and forth on it’s hook on the door.

~~~~

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moonstruckme · 6 months

Text

Dizzy

summary: when your roommate James comes home after a night out with his friends, he's acting even more affectionate than usual

cw: alcohol

modern au

roommate!James x fem!reader ♡ 2.7k words

You can always hear when James’ friends come over. The door opens and the sound of them comes pouring through into your flat, the boys always in the middle of bickering or joking or telling some incredibly animated story.

When you hear their noise late on a Friday night, you pause the movie on your laptop and head for the door, drawn towards their loudness. James’ friends are rowdier than anyone you hang out with, but it’s a happy sort of ruckus. They’re fun and hilarious and surprisingly kind, and you enjoy chatting when they come over.

“Hi, gorgeous,” Sirius sing-songs, spotting you as soon as you emerge from your room. You laugh at his scratchy, worn-out voice. He sounds like he’s probably been singing at the top of his lungs all night. Dark eyeliner has transferred to the skin under his eyes, but Sirius is the only person you know with his particular ability to make dishevelment look rock-and-roll instead of slobbish.

“Hi,” you say back, grinning at him. Your eyes search behind him to find Remus, just coming through the doorway. As always, he looks completely different from his other half; whereas Sirius has unmistakably just gotten home from a night out, Remus could just as easily have been at the library in his jeans and t-shirt, except for the faint black smudge where Sirius’ eyeliner has seemingly rubbed off on his cheek. Then you catch sight of James, drooping like an overwatered flower with his arm slung around Remus’ shoulder. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he’ll be alright,” Remus grunts, heaving your roommate through the entryway. He tries to send you a smile of greeting, but it’s more of a well-meaning grimace. “He just needs to drink some water.”

“I won,” Sirius says giddily, stumbling over and grabbing your arm. “I outdrank James Potter.”

There’s a nervous edge to the laugh that bubbles out of your throat. “That’s great, Sirius, congratulations.” You cast an alarmed look towards Remus. “You all had a competition?”

Remus shakes his head. “They had a competition.”

“I won,” James says suddenly, picking his head up as if revived from a deep sleep. “Don’t listen to him, Y/N, I’m the winner.”

Sirius makes a derisive sound. “You can’t even walk, Potter.”

“I can,” James defends himself, and slips his arm from around Remus’ shoulder. Both you and Remus put your hands out cautiously like when a toddler takes its first steps, but James totters safely to the couch, leaning against it like he’s just finished a marathon and directing a smug smile towards Sirius. “Suck it, Pads.”

Sirius’ lips curl impishly. His unsteady gaze settles on Remus, still hovering by the door. “Gotta get home to do that.”

“Alright,” Remus says quickly, stepping forward to take his boyfriend by the shoulders and steering him towards the door. “We’re gonna go home and get to bed—to sleep.” He’s blushing something fierce, and you do your absolute best not to smile. “Prongs.” James looks up from where he’s been toying with the fabric of your couch throw. “Drink some water, and then go to sleep, yeah?” Remus raises his brows, waiting for confirmation, and James presses a solemn hand to his heart.

“Your wish is my command, Moony-boy.”

Remus rolls his eyes but turns to go, sending you a quick goodnight with an apology embedded in his voice before he shuts the door behind him. You lock it, and turn back around to find James performing a lazy somersault over the back of the couch and onto the cushions.

“James,” you laugh, and he smiles up at you like he doesn’t know what’s so funny but is happy to be a part of it anyway, “do you want to come into the kitchen to have some water?”

James turns pensive. “Is that where you’re going?”

“Mhm.”

“Then sure.” He hops up a bit too fast, and has to put his arms out in front of him to regain his balance.

You take his forearm in your hand, knowing you won’t be able to support his weight if he really falls but hoping you can at least slow his descent, and begin walking him toward the kitchen. “Are you feeling dizzy?” you ask him.

James hums. “A bit. But in a good way, you know?”

You don’t, but you nod anyway. “Well,” you say with certainty you can’t feel, “that’s good. Chill here for a second, okay?” You prop him up against the counter, and James melts against it instantly in that easy way he has, leaning back on his elbows and crossing his ankles in front of him. The edge of the counter has to be digging into his back, but James makes it look like the most comfortable spot in the flat.

You start to grab a glass from the cabinet but then think the better of it, opting for a less destructible plastic cup. You fill it with icy water from the tap.

“Alright.” You pass it to him. “Don’t drink it too fast.”

James takes the cup with a smile that’s really much sweeter than your tiny gesture warrants. Then he proceeds to slide the rest of the way down the counter, until he’s sitting with his legs spread out in front of him on the floor. After a moment, you decide to join him, crossing your legs under you and letting your back rest beside his. The floor just seems like the place to be right now.

For the first time since you’ve known him, James seems content to sit in silence, sipping at his water. Neither of you are looking at each other, or really anywhere in particular. It’s definitely a Friday night, more of the noise of voices and traffic making their way up to your flat than you hear on most days of the week, but your home itself is quiet. The light in the kitchen is dim, coming in from the lamp you’ve left on in the living room, and your body relaxes instinctively in the peaceful dark.

James has nearly emptied the cup when he says, “Hey,” as if he’s just remembered something important.

You look at him. “What?”

“There’s no ice in here.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Did you want ice? I can put some in, I just thought you preferred drinks without ice.”

Even in the dim light, you can make out enough of James’ eyes to see the brown in them go absolutely molten. He turns toward you more fully, his shoulder and cheek squished up against the cabinets. “Aww, you knew.”

You laugh at him, his smushed cheek pushing his glasses up on his face and his bottom lip jutting out slightly. The effect is that he looks both worryingly drunk and decidedly endearing. “Of course I know,” you say. “We’re roommates. I’m bound to pick up on things.”

Your words do nothing to curb James’ adoration. “Still, you noticed,” he says, maudlin. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. The word resounds in your head like the happy chime of a bell. James is always calling you that, but usually it seems thrown away, a light little endearment he tacks onto his addresses without thinking. This feels different. It lingers on his tongue like caramel, soft and sticky sweet. Sweetheart.

“Of course,” you say again, and you’re grateful for the poor lighting that’s hiding your blush. “Ready to go to bed?”

James looks at you like you’ve asked him to solve a calculus equation, thick brows knitting together. Maybe it’s the endearment still ringing in your head, but you really want to smooth the crease from between them with your thumb. You don’t.

“I dunno,” he says after a moment. “Are you tired?”

“A little,” you admit. “Aren’t you?”

He shrugs. “I could be.” And then he’s hauling himself up, an overly complicated process that involves getting his feet underneath him while he’s already using the counter to pull himself off the floor. You have to bite back a smile as you watch, and when he’s done James extends a hand to you. As if you’re the one who needs help.

You take it but don’t actually put any of your weight on him as you stand, grabbing his empty cup from the counter. James’ hand is big, engulfing yours easily, and the condensation from the cool water still lingers on his palm. He doesn’t let go as you start towards his bedroom. You tell yourself it’d be mean to pull away on your own.

“Oh!” he exclaims, once again like he’s discovered something fascinating. “I haven’t even asked—how’s your night been?”

You laugh again. You can never seem to stop laughing around James. “It’s been good, thanks. Not as eventful as yours, I take it.”

James hums in unhappy affirmation. “Lucky you.”

“Well, seems like you got the true night-out experience.” You bring him to sit on his bed, bending to untie his shoes for him and setting them by the door. “Do you wanna sleep in that or change into pajamas?” you ask, fighting the urge to tack on the honey that pushes at your lips.

There’s no deliberation there. “Pajama pants, at least. I can’t wear jeans in bed, m’not a monster.”

You smile to yourself, locating a pair of pajama pants on the floor and holding them up for him to see. “These okay?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

You toss them to him. James starts to strip, and you turn around quickly, going into the bathroom. “So, aside from the drinking contest, did you have a good time tonight?”

“Yeah,” he says lightly. You fill the cup with water from James’ sink and find a bottle of ibuprofen in the drawer underneath. “It wasn’t bad. Remus is so busy lately, it’s good to get to see him at all, and beating Sirius is always fun.” He gives a little laugh. “He’s such a sore loser.”

“He seemed to think he’d won,” you say, your tone teasingly dubious.

A harrumph. “If Remus doesn’t set him straight on that, I’ll do it tomorrow.”

You chuckle.

“You’ll tell ‘em, won’t you?”

“For sure. Do you have your pants on yet?”

“Oh. Yeah.” You go back into the bedroom to find James comfy under the covers, smiling sheepishly. “I didn’t know you were waiting for me to tell you, sorry.”

“No worries.” You smile. He looks so sweet like this, curls splayed out around his head on the pillow the way a kid draws rays around the sun. You set the cup and pill bottle on his nightstand, using your proximity to study his face. His pupils are huge and unfocussed, and the smile he’s aiming at you is a bit too dopey for your liking. “You said you were dizzy…do you think you’re going to be sick?”

“No.” James starts to push himself up as if to make his point, then decides against it, resting his head against the edge of the mattress with a tiny grimace. “Maybe.”

“That’s okay,” you reassure him, grabbing a wastebasket from under his desk. “Here, I’m going to put this by the bed just in case, okay? And you’ve got water and ibuprofen on the nightstand.”

James doesn’t respond. He’s looking at you dazedly.

“James.” You tap his cheek lightly. “Do you understand? You need to use the wastebasket if you feel sick.”

His hand emerges from beneath the covers, fingers braceleting your wrist. “Stay with me,” he mumbles. You’re glad he’s definitely too out of it to feel the quick bumping of your pulse beneath his fingers. When you hesitate a second too long, James tightens his grip beseechingly. “Please, sweetheart?”

There it is again. Your brain buzzes in response.

“Alright,” you whisper, brushing a soothing touch against the inside of his forearm, and James releases you. “I was watching a movie before you got home. Want to finish it?”

He agrees, and you go across the hall, retrieving your laptop. You climb over him on the bed, pretending not to feel the brush of a big hand across your hip as though meant to steady you. You settle your laptop between the two of you and press play on the movie.

James leans over, resting his head on your shoulder. “You’re always watching this,” he murmurs. “You don’t get tired of it?”

“Not really,” you reply. “It’s my favorite. But if you are, I can change it.”

He makes a humming sound, and you feel the vibrations in your shoulder. “No, s’alright. Bet you can quote half the film, though, can’t you?”

You grin. “I’m scared,” you say, in time with the actress on your screen. “I don’t wanna get hurt.” You can feel James smiling, his cheek smushing against your shoulder. You lower your voice into a gruff mockery of the male actor’s intonation. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

James makes a soft sound of amusement. “Cute,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you.

You fall into an easy silence, blue light cast over your features as the familiar scenes play out quietly on your laptop. You keep sneaking glances at James, thinking he’s either about to fall asleep or be sick, but he’s watching the movie contentedly, head a solid but welcome weight on your shoulder. He’s evidently decided to discard the shirt he’d worn to the bar, and the skin of his bare shoulder is warm where it presses against your arm. He adjusts his head a little, and his curls tickle the underside of your jaw. You don’t know how he gets them so soft. Not through any strict regimen or product, apparently. One good thing about having a guy for a roommate is that he’s never the one who runs out the hot water; he’s in and out of the shower in ten minutes every time. And yet, if you look closely enough, you can usually find at least two or three perfect coils in his hair. Genetics, you suppose. James was blessed with a good lot of them.

The movie’s not half done before you’re yawning, your eyelids feeling like someone’s sewn fishing weights into them. You try not to shift, but your shoulders rise with the involuntary inhale, and James looks up at you. You yawn again, covering your mouth with one hand as a tear forms in the corner of your eye, squished out when you blink. You wipe it away.

“Wait,” James says. You go still, looking over at him curiously as he adjusts against the headboard of his bed, pushing himself further upright. He tilts his head. The back of his index finger brushes gently under your lashes. “You always get teary at night,” he says softly.

You know you should get out from under his touch, but you can’t make yourself. “I tear up a lot when I yawn.”

Just thinking about it has you yawning again, and James takes your face in his hand, catching the tear that falls from one eye.

“Don’t cry,” he begs you. “If you cry, I’ll cry.”

You take his wrist in your hand, giving him a small smile. “I’m not crying, James. I’m just tired.”

“Okay,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss, feather-light, just next to your eye. You freeze, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Okay, m’sorry. You’re tired? Wanna go to sleep?”

You have to clear your throat to make sure your voice comes out right. “Sure.” It’s still a bit hoarse. “Wake me if you need anything, okay?”

James takes your hand, a willing captive between two of his as he draws it into his lap. He settles his head back onto your shoulder. “Okay. You’re too nice to me.”

“I’m not,” you say, before you can think the better of it. “You’re the nice one.”

James only hums.

You swallow. “Goodnight.”

You’re waiting for a response, the movie on your laptop just now getting to the scene where the love interests give in and confess their feelings for each other, when you feel a wet spot forming near the collar of your shirt. Slowly, careful not to jostle him, you tilt your head to look down at the source of the drool puddle.

James already asleep.

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ourloveisforthelovely · 10 months

Text

House of Black Part 6

Regulus Black AU

Request: Regulus and his wife are raising Sirius’ daughter after he ends up in Azkaban. Now after his escape Sirius comes to them to thank them and get to know his daughter.

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader. Former Sirius x Reader

Link to Part 5

Rating: M- smut

____

Sirius waited until Abby was out of the room before speaking. Remus had gone back about whatever he was doing and acted as if nothing weird and uncomfortable just happened.

“So, are you going to say anything about any of that?”

Sirius questioned, feeling his temper building. Remus turned around with a raised eyebrow.

“What would you like me to say?”

Sirius scratched his head before sitting down.

“Oh, I don't know…maybe You just had your ass handed to you Sirius or Sirius, I’m awfully sorry that your kid hates you.”

Remus rolled his eyes. It was time for dramatic Sirius to make his entrance.

“Don’t you think that you are being a tad over dramatic?”

Sirius’ mouth dropped.

“Dramatic? I’m being dramatic?! Excuse me!”

Remus decided it was time to cut in.

“Yes, you are being dramatic. If you were expecting Abby to suddenly accept you and act as if nothing happened then you are crazy. Sirius, you need to accept the fact that this is a lot for a 13-year-old girl to take in. Up until a few months ago, she was used to it just being Regulus and Y/n that she had to answer to. Now you are into the mix and it's a lot for a child. Sirius, you owe both Regulus and Y/n a few thousand thank yous.”

Sirius was silent for a moment. He hated admitting that Remus was right but he was. Sirius did owe both Regulus and yourself a lot.

“Damn it, Remus. Why do you always have to be right? I just hate having to face that snarky look on Regulus’ face when I thank him.”

Remus shook his head. Why he was slightly surprised that Sirius was acting like this was beyond him. Sirius always hated telling Regulus thank you or that he was right about something. That was most likely one of those things that would never change.

“Yes, you should. As Abby told you, you are also lucky to still have your brother. This is a chance for the two of you to hash out your differences and be brothers again. I would take it if I were you.”

Sirius sat back down and lost himself in his thoughts. Maybe Remus was right. This was a chance to work out his differences with Regulus. The only question was how would he go about it?”

“The next thing I know you are going to tell me to let go of the fact that I’m jealous of seeing Y/n so happy with Regulus.”

Remus leaned back in his chair.

“Since you brought it up…whatever you think can and would happen between Y/n and yourself…just don’t. Y/n loves Regulus and she won’t leave him. You burned that bridge a long time ago. If you try anything to mess with them I will take you out back and beat you.”

Sirius stared at Remus with wide eyes before nodding. While Sirius would agree to Remus’ demands, that didn’t mean that he wouldn't internally groan every time Regulus touched you in front of him.

“Okay, okay…I’ll be good.”

(meanwhile)

You were barely awake when there was a knock on the door. Regulus groaned before getting up and quickly dressing. You followed his lead and made the bed.

“If it’s Sirius, I swear I will punch him.”

Regulus grumbled as he opened the door. He was relieved to see Abby and Harry on the other side of the door. Abby looked annoyed while Harry was clearly on edge himself. Regulus couldn’t help but feel sorry for them. Both of their lives were now in an uproar that neither asked for.

“Did he run you lot off that quickly? Not that I blame either of you for leaving. Being in the same room with him made me want to fight.”

Abby walked into the bedroom and sat down on the bed with a frown on her face while Harry moved to the window. You couldn’t help but smirk at the visible resemblance between Abby and Regulus when they were annoyed at the same person. Turning your attention to Harry, you couldn’t help but think about how much he reminded you of James standing there.

Like Regulus, you too worried about how much having Sirius back in your lives and the new upcoming war with Voldemort would throw Harry and Abby’s lives into a complete tailspin?

“No…maybe…Remus told me to come find you both since other members of their Order possy are turning up. I did tell Sirius off a bit. He seemed slightly surprised.”

Regulus couldn’t help the smirk.

“You told him off?”

Abby chose to not mention the fact that she told Sirius about the horocrux. She would let Regulus assume that Remus let that ball drop on Sirius.

“Just that he owes you and mum a lot. There were some other things too but that isn’t important right now. What is important is how are we going to get along with the members of the Order that don’t like us…for whatever reason.”

Regulus briefly considered asking Abby “what other stuff” were said but decided to focus more on the lot of people that he was stuck in a house with. The last thing that Regulus really wanted to do was be involved with the order, however, he knew there was little choice. Regulus would much rather just things the four of you, just like they had been for so long.

The four of us.

That was exactly how it had been for some time. After inheriting Harry, “the three of us” became “the four of us” and that had always been enough for Regulus.

“Things will be just fine. It will take some getting used to but we’ll manage.”

You said, in a calming tone before going over to fix Abby’s hair. She looked up at you with a frown.

“That means that we have to be nice and social?”

She questioned, making you giggle. It didn’t matter that she was actually Sirius’ daughter…she acted just like Regulus.

“The two of you really have no chill.”

You replied. Regulus and Abby exchanged a frown that said “we hate people.”

“No, I just don’t like anyone down there. I didn’t like them as a kid and that really hasn’t changed now. I also haven’t forgotten that they all essentially ignored our presence until Harry and Abby became friends with Ron. Over the years, they could have at least checked in or remotely acted nice. I also haven’t really forgotten that they were supposed to be your friends. Friends don’t do each other the way that they dropped you like a bad habit.”

Regulus grumbled. He would forever have a slight dislike for every member of the order for how they treated you. It didn’t matter if Regulus was a death eater or not, they were your friends and should have been there for you.

How you were so kind and full of grace amazed Regulus. Your grace and dignity. That was two of the many things that Regulus loved about you. Even if someone did you down right dirty, most of the time you still acted with kindness. That didn’t mean that you wouldn’t put someone in their place if they needed to be, however.

“Dad is right. Mum.”

Abby replied, casually.

You turned your attention back to Regulus giving him a wary look. Abby calling the two of you “Mum” and “Dad” again had to be her way of asserting that the two of you being her parents would not change simply because Sirius was now in the mix.

“Right or not, we can’t just go down there and act like complete assholes.”

“Oh, I can.”

Regulus grumbled. You turned your attention to Harry, choosing to ignore Regulus’ comment.

“How are you feeling, dear?”

Harry shrugged.

“A bit uncomfortable, I guess.”

Regulus only had to agree with Harry on that one. This whole experience was about to be uncomfortable as hell.

“We might as well get this over with.”

Regulus murmured.

As expected, the dinner was an awkward meeting from hell. You found yourself sitting silently while members of the original Order carried on as if Regulus and yourself weren’t even there. You nearly made a comment a few times but decided not to. It didn’t seem to be worth it. Only Remus and Sirius made efforts to speak to the two of you. Regulus ignored both sitting in icy silence.

Both Molly and Arthur seemed almost afraid to speak to the two of you. Not that you really blamed them. From where they were sitting both Regulus and yourself had to seem pretty intimidating. Neither of you looked especially friendly. The two of you had to look like the stereotypical members of the House of Black at the moment…cold, icy, and haughty.

You were still a bit bitter about Molly abandoning your friendship when you married Regulus. Speaking to Molly about anything other than the children was almost too painful. You were not about to admit to Molly nor anyone else in the Order that they had hurt you. Old wounds were best left unspoken of and left in the dark. It seemed best, to you, to appear as if their abandonment really caused you no emotional harm at all. If there were one thing that you learned from having Walburga Black as a mother-in-law it would be to be able to hide your true emotions like a champ.

For Regulus, the dinner was just as awkward for him as it was for you…even if he didn’t let on. He, like you, was also thankful that his family taught him the art of being stoic and appearing “unfeeling.” It didn’t matter how many times Sirius nor anyone else, for that matter, tried to speak to him or appeared to try to get a rise out of him Regulus didn’t crack.

He wasn’t sure why anyone in The Order wanted anything to do with him anyway? To them, he was a death eater. He was dangerous. It didn’t matter the good that he did. It wouldn’t matter that he nearly died trying to stop Lord Snakeface. So what if Regulus wrecked his body trying to stop Voldemort? None of it would make any difference to anyone in this room (except you). In The Order’s eyes, Regulus would always be “tainted.”

“And in a way, I suppose that I am just fine with that.”

Regulus thought coldly. He would much rather someone hate him for some hair-brained stupid idea than blow smoke up his ass and pretend to care for him.

The next morning, Regulus sat at the kitchen table reading The Daily Prophet when Sirius came into the room. He didn’t look up from the newspaper as his older brother sat down. Regulus quietly tried to focus on the words in front of him instead of thinking about the last time that he and Sirius were in this room together.

The morning before he left…before everything changed…

Sirius, meanwhile, sat quietly for a moment. He wanted to say something to Regulus. The silence was making him nutty!

“So, don’t speak to me all at once.”

Sirius finally commented. Regulus didn’t look up from the newspaper.

“What would you like me to say?”

He questioned, keeping his voice cold and emotionless. Sirius ran a hand through his hair.

“I don’t know, Reggie. Just say something, anything. This silence…I don’t like it. You can tell me that you hate me if you want.”

Regulus still didn’t look up. The annoyance of Sirius calling him “Reggie” was starting to simmer.

“My name is Regulus. Don’t ever call me Reggie again, if you want to live.”

Regulus’ casual threat didn’t bother Sirius much. As kids, Regulus threatened to kill Sirius at least once a day. Being an adult and doing it seemed to be no different.

“Y/n calls you Reggie.”

Sirius commented.

“Y/n is my wife. She can call me anything that she likes. You…well we both know what you are to me.”

Sirius groaned.

“Right, I’m the blood traitor. I’m the one who shamed the most ancient and noble house of Black…blah blah blah I’m a no-good bastard that ran off and left everything to you.”

“Now I don’t have to say it.”

Regulus replied. He half expected Sirius to start yelling at that. When he didn’t Regulus took a breath.

“I wasn’t going to say any of that because none of its true. You made your choice because that was what was best for you. It didn’t matter if that meant leaving me in this house and making me feel as if I truly meant nothing at all to you. My suggestion is just to let all of that shit go because I don’t want to say anything more about it.”

Sirius sighed. There it was. That was the truth that he needed to hear. He did hurt Regulus and Regulus hadn’t forgotten it.

“It wasn’t to hurt you. I would have taken you with me but I knew that you wouldn’t go. That’s why you were the good son.”

Regulus finally looked up from his newspaper.

“Sirius, I said that I do not want to talk about what happened. It's over and time we both moved on. Neither Y/n nor Abby needs the aggravation.”

Sirius remained quiet for a moment.

“Abby said that I owe both Y/n and yourself a few thousand thank yous for everything and she’s right. I appreciate you taking her in and looking after her…”

Regulus only nodded.

“I would hope that you would have done the same for me, had shoes been on the other foot.”

“You know that I would. Regulus, I get that we aren’t best buddies anymore but you are still my brother. I also know that I did Y/n wrong with the whole getting another girl pregnant but…she seems genuinely happy with you. I think that we both know that I would never have made any kind of a decent husband. She deserves to be happy.”

Regulus again looked up. Sirius was definitely right about that one. You deserved to be happy more than anyone else in the world.

“Yes, she does deserve to be happy and I’m happy that I am able to be the one to make her happy.”

Sirius leaned back in his chair and looked around the kitchen.

“Tell me that mum and dad were halfway decent to her.”

Regulus finally gave up on reading his newspaper and sat it down. There was no way that he was going to escape Sirius.

“Believe it or not, I think that Mum and Dad liked her better than she did either of us. I think that they felt awfully shitty about her family disowning her for loving me. They saw it as an act of revenge for stealing a Potter child since the Potters got you. Dad adored her. He said that she was the one bright spot in our family and I couldn’t agree more. Marrying her was the one thing that I did to make that man proud.”

Before Sirius could respond, Abby walked into the room. She gave Sirius a wary look before going over to Regulus.

“Where is mum?”

Regulus turned to Abby, raising an eyebrow at her seemingly nervous demeanor.

“She went shopping to get some things to brighten this haunted house up a bit. She should be home soon. What’s wrong?”

Abby chewed on her bottom lip. She looked between Regulus and Sirius before speaking again.

“Can you call her and have her come home?”

“Abby, what is it?”

Regulus asked, keeping his voice calm and even. Abby muttered a few words quietly and all crammed together. Regulus blinked a few times.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Sirius decided to try his hand.

“I know that I am getting old but I did not hear a word of that.”

Abby finally groaned.

“I got my period, okay?!”

She turned and stormed from the room without another word. Sirius’ mouth dropped while Regulus acted as if nothing happened.

“So do we take her to the hospital?”

Sirius finally asked as he stood up to pace around the room. Regulus rolled his eyes and shoved his newspaper away. This morning just kept getting better! All Regulus wanted to do was read the newspaper in peace. That definitely wasn’t happening now.

“Tell me that you don’t know a thing about women without telling me that you don’t know a thing about women. I’ll handle this while you be the designated basket case of stupid.”

Sirius only nodded.

“Regulus, I owe you one.”

Regulus stood up and moved to walk out of the room.

“You owe me a few thousand things.”

_____

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sunnami · 3 months

Text

❝time will tell.❞

[credits to the original artist of the photo!! can't seem to find their @ anywhere. title is taken from jane austen's persuasion, as was the first part.]

summary. ❝you are loved. and harry thinks there is no better description that that.❞

pairing/s. poly!mauraders x reader. (james potter x reader, sirius black x reader, lily evans x reader, and remus lupin x reader.)

word count. 9.5k.

tags. reader is referred to mum, with she/her pronouns[!], canon-typical violence [!], canon-typical deaths mentioned[!], very brief marauders as soldiers of the order[!], creepy old men being creepy[!], child abuse[!], pureblood arranged marriages, a minor character expresses wanting to die[!], Depressed and Traumatized Slytherins, the capital is important[!], themes of misogyny [!], teen boys fuck around and find out there are consequences to their actions, THERE IS ACTUALLY A LOT OF FLUFF, I PROMISE YOU, angst, children lose their baby teeth up until the age of twelve!! google said so!! not proofread we die like dobby the free elf

note. damn, i cried, you cried, we all crode. tbh, the first part was only intended as a oneshot, sdfkhdf, but when i re-read it, i thought that i could have expanded on more details,, so now here we are!! i love it more than the first part ueueue. thank you all so so so much for the kind comments :((( please please enjoy the second part to this installment!! part one

HARRY JAMES POTTER was only a few months old when you died at the hands of Voldemort — or as strangers have told him every time they ravaged his personal space and ogled at his scar. They said it was a quick death, better than what had happened to Alice and Frank Longbottom. But that was all they’ve ever said about your death. Unfortunate; caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, entirely different from the pedestal James and Lily have been put on by the wizarding society.

At first, Harry had wondered if it was due to your blood relations, being the daughter of a renowned Death-Eater, heiress to the fortune of a pureblood House. Harry can’t even count the amount of conspiracy theories he’s read or heard to his face that it must have been you who betrayed James and Lily, and not Sirius Black.

Even Hermione’s shared to him a theory that your death was faked to surrender your loyalty completely to Voldemort — of course, Hermione was eleven at the time, head full of books and her favorite theories, and Harry’s already forgiven her. But there’s a part of him that despises the way he’s never known the full truth about his parents, just bits of information dangled in front of him like bait for people [read: the Dursleys] to get him to do what they want, to act like the way they want. Until Remus and Sirius, you were a stranger to him, really.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

IT IS RATHER UNFORTUNATE that Madam Pince has already taken her position as the unbearable librarian at this point in time. The woman gives Harry and you a pointed look as you slam the large book onto one of the tables — to Harry’s surprise, you glare right back at her. You’re awfully flushed, however, blushing cheeks betraying the fire in your eyes; it must have been from when Remus escorted the two of you to the library; he had tried to brush your hand with his pinky, to which you had responded with a startled hiss — Remus only smiled and chuckled at you, and Harry swears he’d like to forget that entire interaction because he saw literal stars in Remus’s eyes.

Jumping back in time and potentially causing chaos? Fun.

Meeting your parents? Definitely fun, in the strangest of ways.

But watching them pine and fall for each other? Not so fun.

Nonetheless, he hesitantly takes the seat across yours and watches you flip through the pages until you land on a chapter with the large, bold letters: THE CURIOUS CASE OF ELOISE MINTUMBLE — Time-Travel and Its Many Dangers. He meets your gaze with a sheepish grin, mustering a look of innocence; except the puppy dog eyes only worked when he was nine — you are not amused.

You slide the book towards him, scarily resembling Molly Weasley when she’s miffed with the twins. “You are aware, right, that just by existing here you’ve changed the future? Your future? And, that’s not even the worst thing that could happen.”

Harry sulks. “Yes, mum.” He prefers not to think about it, actually, it makes his head hurt.

“Don’t call me that in public!” You whisper heatedly, looking over your shoulder to check if anyone had heard him — to your luck, the library was empty, save for a Hufflepuff that was passed out on top of his books. “The less people that know about this, the better. It’s bad enough we told Potter about you. Do you even know what you’re going to do?”

“Considering I was thrown here against my will, no.” Harry shrugs. “And to be honest, I was just going to obliviate the people who asked too many questions.”

You reach over to smack his head, scowling.

“Ow! That hurt!” Harry rubs the sore spot as he grumbles petulantly. “This is technically child abuse, did you know that?”

You roll your eyes. “Do you at least have a plan to get home?”

“Of course I do,” Harry retorts with a scoff, “Her name is Hermione Granger.”

“Hopeless.” You groan exasperatedly. “Absolutely hopeless.”

Harry only grins in response. For a brief moment, he forgets about the present — his reality where the skies are bleak and home is where he knows the feeling of loss more than the warmth of his own parents’ embrace. He lets himself forget, and pretends he isn’t the Boy Who Lived. Just some random boy who’s pestering his mother — even if she likes to deny the inevitability of being romanced by the Marauders, (except for Wormtail because Harry would eat troll slime before he ever lets that happen.)

“Right then,” You say after your tangent — which Harry tuned out when he hears the words, be responsible. “If I’m going to help you get back home—”

Harry’s heart drops to his stomach; as selfishly as it sounds, he didn’t want to go home just yet — not to where people just took and took from him. He’s exhausted. Still, he puts up a front of being excited to be returned to his timeline. It’s for the greater good, of course, because his existence — present or past — is always somehow a threat to the wizarding society.

“—you need to answer this one question for me.” Your voice drops lower as you stare at him intently, lips pressed firmly.

Harry nods slowly. “As long as it’s within reason, yeah.”

You inhale sharply. “Do I outlive Dolores Umbridge?”

The wince escapes Harry before he can even stop it.

That’s all the answer you need, apparently. Your mouth hangs open in disbelief, eyes nearly bulging out of your head as you slam your hands down onto the table surface, shrieking.

“That slimy bitch!”

Needless to say, the two of you are kicked out of the library.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1970; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

YOU ARE ELEVEN when your father introduces you to Ferguson, commonly known as Fergus, Bulstrode. He smiles at you with a leer, eyes hungrily dipping to the neckline of your dress. You grit your teeth as you hold out your hand for him to take — you almost shudder at the feel of his lips on your cheek. You eagerly take a step back away from him, hoping your father won’t notice the way you shy from Ferguson’s touch. You’re not dull, you fully understand the implications of this introduction and the way Ferguson is complaining to you about his third wife’s passing — as if you were the solution to his loneliness. Bile rises to your throat, and you shove it down with a forced laugh at your father’s jokes about Mudbloods. From across the room, Allegra Greengrass stares at you in sympathy, and you send her a glare — you do not need anyone’s pity.

The corset your mother laced on too tight is suffocating you; this whole Yule extravaganza made for elitist purebloods is suffocating you; and yet, you smile and greet every red-lipped witch your mother introduces you to. For hours, you pretend, and you pretend. By the time the guests have left, you wonder if you have any more of yourself to give.

You manage to convince your mother to let you slip away for the night. Without missing a beat, you rush outside and into the garden labyrinth, lest old Ferguson snatches you up for a dance and let his gaze wander elsewhere. For the first time since the sun had set, your aching feet finally find some relief. You drop onto the edge of the stone fountain as you toss your heels to the side. You begin working your fingers through your hair, ripping the glittery ribbons from your head. It’s not until you’re unclasping your necklace that you realize you are crying. Tears fall from your eyes, and they sink deep into the fabric of your dress.

You barely hold back your sobs. Your chest heaves as you hiccup; your vision goes blurry as your fingers grow numb. There’s nothing you can do but cry.

You’ve used up all your smiles for tonight.

But then, the sadness turns into resentment and then turns into indignation. Harshly, you wipe the tears from your eyes as you rip a violent scream from your throat.

You sink to the ground, perfectly polished nails digging into the soil as you gather patches of grass and tear them from the roots. You throw a handful of mud at the marble statues. You grab another fistful of mud, scream, then bash your head against the garden floor. You let out another cry, whimpering as you curl into yourself; shivering as a gust of wind brushes against your skin. Surprisingly enough, this is the most human you’ve ever felt. This is the most you have ever felt — period.

When hiccups regress into soft sniffles, you lay on your back, watching the stars float above. As the last of your tears slide down your cheek, you lift a shaky hand to trace the constellation in the sky. It’s not a familiar one to you, but then—

“That’s Sirius.”

You sit upright in a snap, wiping away the wetness from your eyes as you muster a mean glare at the newcomer.

Sirius Black.

“Oh, none of that,” He tells you when you move to stand. There’s barely any emotion on his face and it irks you that you can’t figure out what he’s planning. What you don’t expect is for him to sit beside you, thereby ruining his expensively tailored suit.

“You’ll get creases,” You scold him instinctively, nose scrunched — but your voice is hoarse; too tired to put up any pretences. “Your mother will be cross with you.”

Sirius scoffs, laying his head on the dirt, making sure to smear his sleeves with grass stains. “Walburga can go fall in a ditch and die for all I care.”

You gasp. “That’s horrible!”

Sirius gives you a look. “You don’t believe that.”

You really don’t, but you don’t have the courage to admit it either.

After a few moments of silence, Sirius asks, raising a brow, “So who was that?”

“Who was who?” You stare at him with knitted brows, toying with your fingers. You still can’t wrap your head around how weird this is — sitting with Sirius Black in the middle of your mother’s hedge maze, your once bright blue dress now sullied at the ruffles, eyes bloodshot and your hair a frizzy mess. (Sirius thinks you look cute, though; especially with your missing front tooth that peeks out every time you talk to him.)

“Bald guy, older than Merlin himself.” Sirius makes a face. “Looks like a troll. Smells like one, too.”

A giggle flutters past your lips, and your hands fly to your mouth. You really shouldn’t be bad-mouthing your guests, but Sirius was right — Ferguson really did act like an ugly troll. You sigh, letting your arms fall to your side. “My betrothed.”

Sirius nods in understanding. “My mother tried to set me up with my own cousin once.”

You grimace. “Which cousin?”

He sits on his knees to face you, and with a very solemn face, he says, “Bellatrix.”

This time, you laugh freely, throwing your head back as Sirius pouts at your amusement. “O-Oh, that’s golden.”

“No, it’s not,” says Sirius, lips twitching as he watches you snort like a pig through your giggles. “It’s horrible. A literal nightmare. You should feel awful for me.” He pokes your stomach, and it just makes you laugh harder, eyes disappearing into your smile. “Oi. I said feel awful, not take the piss out of me.”

“S-Sorry.” You wheeze, batting away his hand pulling at your cheek. “I just can’t imagine Bellatrix in a white wedding dress and saying her vows to you.”

“That’s disgusting.” Sirius gags. “You’re horrible, I hope you know that.”

When you finally calm down and Sirius tickles your bare feet until you cry in surrender, the two of you lay on the grass as he points out each constellation to you. Later, he fishes a small box of sugar mice from his pocket and offers it to you, opening one for himself. “Here’s to shitty parents and the one day we get to decide our own future.”

You bump your squeaky candy mice against his. “Cheers, Black.”

“Will you go to Hogwarts next year?” He asks you once he’s bitten off the tail of his mice.

You nod.

Sirius shifts on his side, holding his pinky out to you. “We’ll be friends when school starts?”

Again, you nod, wrapping your pinky around his. “Friends.”

The next September comes, Sirius finds a compartment and one James Potter in it. You sit with Allegra Greengrass and Endora Lestrange on the way to Hogwarts. You are sorted into Slytherin, and Sirius finds freedom and a home in Gryffindor. You play the role created just for you; you lift your nose at those beneath you, adorn yourself in custom-made silk clothing, and carry yourself with the etiquette of a pure-blooded lady. Perfect grades, perfect hair, perfect clothes, always picture perfect.

You pretend that Allegra doesn’t throw up in the evenings from the fear of getting married to a man twice her age. You pretend that you don’t notice Endora sleep-walking and begging for her mother to save her from her father. You pretend that under your blankets, in the Slytherin dungeon, you are safe.

You pretend that it doesn’t hurt when Sirius looks at you in disappointment when you shove a Hufflepuff student to the ground for getting a higher score than you in Charms.

They call you an ice-princess behind your back, and you overhear some of the fifth-years calling you foul words as well, and no one steps in to stop them; there’s no defending a Slytherin, after all. But you are keeping your head above treacherous waters, and you suppose that is all that matters.)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

“SO ACCORDING TO THIS, Eloise was stuck in 1402 for five days until she was retrieved to the present, which means we only have four days left to figure out a way for you to get back home.”

Harry sinks into his chair, arms crossed over his chest. The two of you had found an empty classroom to discuss your plans away from inquisitive ears. “What’s the rush?” It’s unfair, he’d only just met you, and now he’s losing time with you.

You sigh. “Harry, Eloise Mintumble spent five days in the past and when she came back, her body aged five centuries, and she died in St. Mungos. It’s not just about altering the whole timeline, you could actually die.”

When you are met only with silence, you close the book, frowning. “Harry? What’s wrong?”

Harry swallows the lump in his throat, looking out the window to avoid your gaze. “What do you know about the Mirror of Erised?”

Your head tilts in confusion. “That it shows our heart’s deepest desire.”

“Yeah,” says Harry, nodding. “I was eleven when I found it.”

“Oh, Harry. . .”

It’s almost pathetic how quickly his eyes water. “Did you know, before today, I hadn’t known at all what your voice sounded like?”

You stay quiet, and Harry sucks in a shaky breath.

“When I looked into the mirror, I saw my parents—all of you. There I was, in the middle. You were behind me—happy.” Harry swipes a tear from his eye. “I wanted to stay in that room, stare at that mirror forever.”

“It’s—”

“Dangerous, I know.” He laughs bitterly. “Just like finally being able to meet you all here.”

“Harry, you aren’t supposed to be here in the first place,” You say quietly, eyes drooping sadly.

“I know that!” He exclaims desperately. “But is it so selfish to just want some time? I don’t want an illusion, I want the real thing. A real family. Why can’t I have that? Bloody Malfoy gets everything he wants, and what do I have?”

“Your friends,” You tell him firmly. “Your friends who must be worried sick that you’re gone and must be going great lengths to bring you back.”

“I know.” Harry wilts. He’s got Remus at home, too, who probably needs him more than ever after Sirius’s death. “I know. But can’t I just have this one thing?”

You purse your lips for a moment, brows furrowed in thought. Then, you break the silence with: “Do you want to hear a story?”

“What?” Harry croaks, peering at you through wet lashes.

Shrugging, you say, “Stories to remember us by. I’ve got six years worth of stories and then some. I know it’s not much, and you’ve probably heard some of these already from the others in the future, but it’s better than nothing, right?” You lean against the back of your chair, glancing at the wall clock before grinning at Harry. “We’ve got time to spare, anyway.”

Harry manages a smile, setting down his glasses before rubbing his stinging eyes with the handkerchief you offer him. He figures this is what Remus means when you’re the gentlest creature he’s ever known — just not gentle in what the world expects you to be.

“What do you say, Harry? I give you tidbits of the past, and you tell me if you know anything about the next Triwizard champion, so I can place my bets in advance.”

Harry snickers. “Not a chance, mum.”

“Worth a try.” And the smile you give him is nearly blinding.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1977; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND what it is about Gryffindors and their hobby of invading others’ personal space.

A year into dating and James likes to shove his head under your shirt, claiming he loves the sound of your heartbeat — but you know really what he wants to nestle his head in between. The amount of cashmere blouses he’s ruined is absurd! Sirius has a hobby of tracing runes on the plane of your stomach. Lily prefers it when you sit in front of her, just within reach where she can wrap her arms around you and rest her head on your shoulder. Remus tends to lag behind the group when he notices you walking slower due to your leg flaring up. He kisses the side of your head and promises to chase the pain away — sappy poetic that he is. And in the moments where all five of you are together, tucked under a wide alcove, you can best believe there is no escaping what they like to call, a cuddle pile. Limbs are tangled, kisses are shared, and confessions of love are whispered.

Before them, you hadn’t really known the different ways to love and be loved.

Onto the pressing matters at hand, you discover that the brazen show of affection extends to their parents as well. Particularly, the Potters. After a year, you finally caved into James’s requests for you to spend the holidays at their manor, since the others have already made a space for themselves there, and James had said it would be an honor for you to feel at home with his parents, too. Honestly, you spoil them too much — one look into his bright, wide eyes and you gave in. James didn’t even care that you brought two luggages for clothes alone; he lifted each bag with delight and with ease.

(Remus had the audacity to laugh when he caught you and Sirius staring at James’s flexed muscles, mouth wide open.

“As I have said, Remus Lupin, I do not drool!”

“Sure, dove, whatever you say.”)

But now, you really aren’t so sure of your decision.

“Oh, she’s beautiful, Jamie!” Euphemia encases you in a bear hug the moment you step inside the manor. You’re engulfed in the scent of cinnamon and burnt sugar. You stiffen as she cradles your face in between her palms, smiling ever so fondly at you, cooing about how precious you look, much like a mother would — and how your mother never did. You wonder if this is what you’ve been missing all along — the thought stabs you right in the heart. “Please excuse the mess, dear, we haven’t had the chance to clean up yet, Monty and I are excited to try the recipe Lily owled to us the other day, you see.”

“I-It’s okay,” You rasp, struggling to hold back the tears.

“Oh, what a darling you are!” Euphemia smiles and ushers you further inside. “Come, come. The others are right upstairs. You must be tired from the train ride. It is so lovely to finally meet you. Make yourself at home, dear heart — James Fleamont Potter! Give your mama a kiss this instant! Don’t think introducing your girlfriend will distract me from the fact you didn’t owl me letters for two months straight!”

James whines as he hides behind you. “Mum, I’m seventeen, stop embarrassing me.”

Euphemia scoffs, hands snapping to her hips. “You’re going to be my baby boy forever, now come here.”

With a shy smile, you step away to surrender James to his mother — you don’t understand which part of this is embarrassing; you wish for a mum who’d welcome you home like that, with unconditional love and kind eyes. James squawks and calls you a traitor, just before his mum attacks him with loud, exaggerated kisses to his cheek, leaving lipstick stains all over his face. You hide a laugh behind your palm, ignoring the way your heart pangs at the sight of their unrestrained smiles. Euphemia lets her son go after a few more seconds, cackling at the masterpiece she’s created on a grumbling James, who’s rubbing his skin to erase his mother’s affections. She hugs you once more before setting you off, telling you to meet Fleamont after you’ve unpacked.

Just as you reach the foot of the stairs, you hear a girlish squeal, then the sound of rapid footfall against each wooden step. Lily greets the two of you by jumping off the last step and wrapping each arm around yours and James’s neck. “Welcome home, Jamie!” She captures his lips with her own before doing the same to you, cupping your cheek lovingly, “So happy you made it, princess! How was the ride here?”

You were never a fan of traveling by Floo; it made you nauseous after, and left you with a pounding headache for hours. Without hesitation, the others offered to accompany you on the train, but you insisted they Floo ahead to Godric’s Hollow — it took a lot of convincing, but they finally agreed, (they’re not the only ones spoiled; they couldn’t refuse you, too.) With the exception of James, who wanted to be there when you saw his home for the first time. You nearly cried when you saw how well-loved their manor was; rose shrubs dipped in snow, Sirius’s motorcycle parked outside, a mailbox with poorly painted shapes, the fences covered in Christmas lights, and the amount of shoes by the door. From outside, you could hear the laughter and warm conversations.

“It was fine,” You say in a daze.

Lily sees right through you — and frowns sadly. “You alright?”

Were you?

You catch sight of the moving photographs of James and you finally reach your breaking point. There’s a swell in your throat that you can’t seem to push down. There’s a photo of James, Lily, Remus and Sirius; James is in his Quidditch jersey, raising the Golden Snitch high up in the air, Remus is twirling Lily, his arms around her waist, and Sirius is holding up a charmed banner that says: Gryffindor Rules! Slytherin Sucks! Except For My Darling Angel Love Of My Life Most Beautiful And Gorgeous Perfect Brilliant Girlfriend!

There are hints of life all around the manor. Remus’s textbooks and scarf are laid by the coffee table. Lily’s O.W.L. marks are framed on the wall, along with Dumbledore’s letters to James and Lily awarding them the position of Head Girl and Head Boy, as well as McGonagall’s previous letter to Remus that came with his Prefect badge years ago. There’s a spot dedicated to Peter, filled with a photograph of him awkwardly holding his Herbology test, one that he scored a hundred and twelve percent on. It’s a wall dedicated to them, you realize.

Then, you find it.

Right there, up above James’s spot, and beside Sirius’s display of beyond perfect Transfiguration exam marks, and a picture of him and Remus kissing each side of your face.

It’s a space on that wall just for you.

James follows your gaze and rubs the back of his head, ears tinged with a shade of deep pink. “Mum left a space when I first told her about you. I-It’s yours, you can put anything you want there.”

“I can’t,” You whisper, lips quivering as your heart cracks into a million pieces. It’s too much.

James blinks. “Can’t? It’s yours, I promise. Mum won’t mind. You can even hang your dumb Montrose Magpies poster and I won’t tear it down — Marauders’ honor. I can help you if you want. I-I’m not good as decorating as Lily, but I paid attention to your boring explanation of color theory and I know that you hate this shade of—”

“James, I can’t do this.”

That’s all you say before you run out of the door.

(And you’re absolutely delusional if you think James won’t follow you out that door and into the brewing snowstorm.)

You hear James call out to you, but you opt to ignore him and clutch your winter coat tighter around your body, shivering in the blowing wind, trudging through the deep snow through your heeled boots — designer couldn’t help you now even if you tried. You sniff, the salty taste of your tears dripping to your lips, chest tightening with a foreign kind of pain, and the frost nipping at your fingers. You give up after a few minutes, falling to the ground with an anguished cry, hand clutching the front of your chest as you struggle to breathe.

James reaches you in a matter of minutes, draping his jacket over you, barely flinching as the cold welts his bare skin. Frantically, he wipes the tears from your eyes, a pained expression on his face as he sees you cry helplessly. “Come on, dove, it’s not safe out here. Let’s go back home, yeah? I’m sorry for upsetting you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry — I’m so sorry, dove, please don’t cry, it’s killing me to s–see you like this.” Tears fall from his eyes, and he begins stuttering from the cold, but you can’t go back to the manor. “What did I do? Please tell me so I can fix it. I love you—I’m sorry.”

You bat his chest. “G–Go home, Jamie. I’ll just take the train back to the castle.”

“What?” He shakes his head, grabbing onto your hands. “Y–You can’t. Not in this weather. You’ll get sick if you try to walk back to the station.”

You withdraw from his hold as you back away from James, slipping into the ice-cold mask you know so well.

James rises in an instant, reaching for you. “No, no, no, no, no. You don’t get to do that. Not now. Not with me. Please, just come home and I-I’ll fix it.”

“Goodbye, James,” You tell him firmly, clenching your jaw as you look him straight in the eyes.

He grimaces. “That won’t work on me, princess, and you know it. Don’t push me away—please.”

“Go home, James!” You yell bitterly, pivoting on your heel as you march through the thick inches of snow, hearing Remus and Lily’s voice grow louder in the distance. “Just go!”

He grits his teeth, nails digging deep into the palms of his hand. “You’re a coward if you walk away from here—from us—right now!” James shouts through chattering teeth and stray tears. “And I hate cowards more than anything!”

You don’t look back.

(Later that night, James stares blankly at the fireplace, tossing twigs now and then. He’s all out of tears. Remus crosses his legs as he sits beside James and offers him a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

“Don’t want one,” He mutters, words coarse from earlier, head turning away from Remus’s gift. “Just want her.”

Remus sets the beverage on the ground before pulling James’s head down to his chest, gently wiping the tears from his eyes as he wraps the blanket around both of them. He presses a soft kiss to James’s hair.

“I said I hated her,” James says weakly. “I don’t—I never will. I just hate that she’s out there spending Christmas all alone. She could be here—with us. I hate not knowing that she’s safe, or that she thinks I don’t love her anymore—that’s a bloody lie, Moony. I adore her. If anything, I don’t deserve her.”

James finds out that he does have more tears left in him. “I miss her. Bring her back, Rem, please.”

“You’ll cry yourself sick, love.” Remus wipes each tear away. “Let’s go to bed, yeah? Mornings do have a way of bringing miracles to us.” Because after a night of excruciating pain under the moon’s command, he wakes up to sunlight, and there you all are — smiling down at him like he is deserving of love; and maybe Remus can’t fault you for running away.

You’d kiss him gently and tell him how proud you are of him for coming back to you.

Remus only hopes you come back to them, too.)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

“AND THAT, dear Harry, is how I humiliated Lucius Malfoy in fifth-year.” Your eyes gleam wickedly as you rest your arms on the school desk. “If he ever bothers you in your time, just mention my name—oh, I wish I could see the look on his face when he realizes I’m haunting him from my grave. Tell him, okay?”

Harry nods excitedly. “Definitely.”

“Got anymore stories?” He asks.

You cackle menacingly. “Boy, do I ever. Let me tell you about the one time Beckett McLaggen took me out on a date to Madam Puddifoot’s!”

Harry grimaces. “Do I even want to hear about this?”

“Oh, pish-posh.” You dismiss him with a wave. “You do, this story is hilarious. Now that I look back on it, Sirius was quite cross with him for the rest of the day—how strange. I wonder why.”

Harry stares at you in disbelief. “You’re joking.”

“I most certainly am not, Harry Potter.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1974; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

AN EAR-PIERCING scream wakes you up in the middle of the night. You snatch your wand from under your pillow, heart thudding against your chest in fear — last year, the Prewett twins decided it was funny to break into the girls’ quarters at midnight; you get a month worth of detention for hitting Gideon with the Expulso curse and suspension from class for two weeks, while the twins get away with a slap on the wrist and have the time of their lives spreading rumors of you being a Death-Eater.

Endora shoots up to her feet as well, staring at you in panic — then the girl screams again, and you realize it’s Allegra.

You sigh in relief, lowering your wand before saying to Endora, “I-It’s alright. I’ll handle it.”

“Are you sure?” Endora asks timidly, gnawing at her lip and wincing when Allegra wails once more.

“Certain,” You respond, yawning.

As Endora climbs back into her bed, you slip into Allegra’s side, holding her head to your chest, brushing your fingers through her hair and untangling the knots. Like most of the Greengrass women, she was of ethereal beauty — silky blonde hair, smooth and fair skin, deep blue eyes that enchant wizards and witches alike. But her cheeks have gone sallow from exhaustion, eyes devoid of any emotion, and her skin now sunken into her bones.

“I don’t want to marry him—I can’t! He’s old enough to be my father!” Allegra sobs violently, desperate for anyone to hear her, but no one really ever hears their cries from the dungeon. “They said they’d wait until I graduated—they promised! I’m supposed to marry him this summer!”

Your heart breaks for your friend — there’s nothing you can do but hold her until she’s cried every bit of her soul out.

“I hate them,” Allegra whispers to you; she had been shedding tears for hours, trembling in your arms until morning finally came.

“I know,” You say defeatedly.

“I wish I was dead,” She replies lifelessly. “He can’t marry a dead bride.”

“Don’t say that,” You beg as you hug her tight; afraid to lose her to the world that has worn her down. “Please.”

Allegra sinks into her pillows, and you follow in suit, hesitantly laying your head beside hers. She stares at the ceiling dully. “The world is so, so cruel to us daughters sometimes. And it’ll be cruel to our daughters, and their daughters. When will it end?”

“I don’t know,” You say honestly.

Allegra hums, neither disappointed nor surprised, and turns away to lay on her side. “Pansy,” She mumbles.

“What?”

“If we lived in a better world and I married for love, I’d want to name my daughter Pansy — like the flower.”

(Later that day, you are given detention for beating Evan Rosier to a pulp. He makes a joke about dirty blood, and you snap — you are tired of laughing and pandering to the arrogant men in your life. This is the first time you publicly defy your parents, and it felt good — more than good, it was liberating. It’s like breathing fresh air for the first time. Then, you earn a second detention for storming up to the Gryffindor common room and punching Fabian Prewett in the face — because fourth-year boys had no business sneaking into the girls’ dorm in the middle of the night for some stupid prank — and you threaten him by pointing the tip of your wand deep into his neck, demanding they apologize to you, Allegra, and Endora.

You get what you want, naturally — as princesses do. You decide then that you’re going to create a world where girls like Allegra don’t cry anymore.)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

HARRY TWINGES WHEN he hears the end of your fourth or fifth story of the afternoon — no wonder you had been so angered by his being in your room. “I-I’m sorry—”

“Yesterday was hardly your fault,” You interrupt him. “There’s no controlling where magic brings you, not in your case. You didn’t know, but now you know. I don’t hold it against them — anymore. Fifteen-year-old boys can be stupid, and at least they’ve learned from their mistakes. You should have seen your mother — erm, Lily — she looked like she was ready to kill them after finding out what they had done. Even Molly was cross with the twins, and you know how loyal Molly is to her family.”

Oh, Harry knows.

And Hermione knows it all too well.

“Others call us evil, conniving and cruel, Harry,” You tell him grimly, “But I will protect my own, no matter what I have to do.”

At that moment, Harry thinks he understands why some people come to fear Slytherin.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1978; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

“LOOK, LILY-PAD, the princess is drooling again.”

You open your eyes to glare at Sirius. “I don’t drool, idiot.”

Lily chortles as she presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Of course you don’t, princess.”

Currently, you’re lying on a shabby loveseat that is too small to hold the three of you; it’s the only furniture in the new cottage you call home, where Potter Manor was right across the street. (Euphemia was ecstatic to have you all nearby — the lovely woman was sprite for her age, but you notice the way she stops to sit and catch her breath, Sirius and James hovering over her attentively; you’re good at pretending, so you pretend that the Potters will be around forever.) Some rooms are dusty with cobwebs, walls unfinished, with the floors creak under your feet, and there’s no other place you’d rather call home.

You’re in between Sirius and Lily; your lips swollen from their kisses, cheeks flushed and the column of your throat graced with love marks. It’s the most beautiful set of jewelry you’ve ever worn, not even burmese rubies could compare. Lily’s hand rests under your jumper, Sirius’s thigh wedged between your own. While peace blankets the three of you, James and Remus have yet to come home from their task given by the Order.

“You need a haircut, my love,” You mumble drowsily, pulling at one of the dark ringlets — it’s gone past his shoulders now. He captures your hand and leaves a delicate kiss on your fingertips.

Lily buries her nose in your hair. “She’s right, Siri.”

“I’m always right.” You pout.

Sirius, love-sick fool that he is, smiles as he tilts your chin with his finger and ensnares you in a kiss that leaves you breathless. “Course you are — our girl’s bloody brilliant, isn’t she, Lily-pad?”

“Without a doubt.”

You roll your eyes at their antics, rolling around so that your back is pressed to Sirius’s chest — they’re not fooled, however; Lily sees the way your eyes flicker in amusement and the way your lips threaten to curve up into a smile. She traces the swell of your lips with her thumb, to the dip of your nose, and to the apples of your cheek. Sea-green eyes beam at you.

“I love you,” says Lily, committing every inch of you to her memory as she wears a melancholic smile. “I don’t know who told you that you don’t deserve to be loved, but they were wrong. You are so precious to us, dove, you don’t even know how much. This right here is real — and nothing could ever change that.”

As it turns out, you did have more smiles to give — only the happy ones; not the fake, courteous smiles that you had given to your mother’s friends in the past. You come to intertwine your hand with Lily’s, the one that had been resting on your cheek, tenderly wiping the tears that pooled within your eyes. Your heart could burst from your chest. They had a habit of wringing every emotion out of you; of making love feel real, not just a myth from a Muggle storybook. And you find, that you didn’t mind this particular habit of theirs. In the comforts of the place you call home, where you irrefutably belong, you are free to seek their arms and fall into their love, and the best part is where you get to love them right back.

How lucky you are.

“Let’s get married,” You blurt out, holding your breath, feeling Sirius’s hand on your waist stiffen.

“What?” Lily gasps breathlessly.

You smile up at Lily. “Let’s get married. All of us. I don’t care where, o–or about the rings, let’s just get married. With the war going on, we deserve s–something good.”

Lily sobs as she nods excitedly. “Yes. Oh my Gods—we’re getting married!”

Sirius stares at you in wonder. “Bloody hell, dove, give a guy some warning, would you?”

You grin. “Is that a yes?”

“It’s a yes — forever.” Sirius dives in to kiss you senseless. “Couldn’t get rid of us now even if you tried.”

“I don’t think I’d want to, anyway.”

Right then, the rickety door slams open, and you hear the loves of your life calling out for the three of you. Followed by the heavy thud of Dragonhide boots plunking down onto the floor

“We’re home!” James announces in the entryway.

Lily wastes no time in shooting up from the sofa and welcoming them home with quite a unique greeting:

“We’re all getting married!”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

“That ring is an heirloom passed down to the children in our family,” You tell Harry, pointing to the band around his finger. “It’s meant to symbolize our loyalty and duty to our House. My mother said I would have earned it only when I became a wife to Ferguson Bulstrode.” You chuckle at Harry’s perturbed grimace. “No, I didn’t marry him — thankfully. After Allegra. . . I—I. . . I couldn’t bear it. If I was going to marry, it would be on my own terms, and it would be for love, nothing less. Then, if my child wanted it, I’d give them this ring. I want to leave behind a legacy that I created. When I was younger, I’d resigned to a fate that was forcefully carved by someone else’s hand.”

You shake your head. “I want to die being remembered by those who loved me. Otherwise, I was never truly alive.”

Harry won’t let that happen, he won’t ever let your name be forgotten. He’ll share of your kindness to his friends, of your bravery and loyalty. Hermione will love your fondness of Muggle musicals and how you stood up to Lily’s defense in a world that ostracized her for being different. He’ll remind Remus of your love for him, that he had brought you hope in times of despair. Harry is going to make sure the world knows you had been so full of life with endless love to give. You are going to be remembered in the way Voldemort never will.

“What do the words mean?” He stares at the writing: Tempus Edax Rerum.

You smile. “Time, devourer of all things.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1978; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

“REMUS—THE MUGGLES ARE stuck in the telly again!”

Remus snickers as he takes the vacant space beside you on the loveseat, now sewn up with care and spattered with knitted quilts and throw pillows — still too small to carry three people but hasn’t given out yet, anyway. He takes Lily’s legs over his lap, swiftly stealing a kiss from your lips. “It’s a film, dove, they’re acting.”

You purse your lips. “They’re trapped inside, then?”

Lily snorts into her tub of chocolate fudge ice cream. “Not quite, princess, it’s recorded. Movies are like moving photographs — but they’re an hour long with sounds.”

“Oh.” You turn your attention back to the screen, back to the film Lily had been watching. You had to admit — the story of Sandy and Danny was an interesting one. “Lily-pad, she’s singing — again.”

Sirius hushes you from where he was cuddling James on the other couch. “She’s supposed to sing, dove, it’s a musical.”

“Well, yes,” You begin, and James groans into Sirius’s chest, “But they should just talk instead of singing all the time — Sandy’s got a lovely voice, though. I just don’t understand why Danny’s treating her like that! Truthfully, I don’t like any of Sandy’s new friends, other than Frenchy — she’s harmless. If I was Sandy I’d move on from Danny — but then again, that hair and those muscles, and his leather jacket! I can’t blame her.”

Sirius glowers at you. “You like his leather jacket?”

“His hair?” James exclaims in horror.

Remus chuckles as he tucks you in his side, kissing your temple. “If I were you, dove, I’d be quiet and just watch the film.”

“Oh, no, no.” Sirius barely glances at the television as he pauses the film and stands up to point an accusatory finger at you. “Since when were you into leather jackets? Do you think those are cool? Since when? Jamie, should I get one? Let’s unpack this, right now. And his muscles, really?”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Play the film, Black, I want to see the end of their love story.”

“I’m telling Euphemia on you!”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

“—and then we realized that we accidentally locked Hermione in with the troll.” Harry’s arms flail about as he shares some of his adventures with you — it had only been fair. He felt like a young boy again, entering Hogwarts for the first time as he watched you listen to him intently, gasping at tale of the vanishing glass and scolding him when he says he and Ron had decided to go searching for Hermione, and by extension, the troll.

Your eyes grow wide. “A troll? In Hogwarts? They can’t have, not unless—”

“Someone let it in—I know!” Harry grins. “You’re not going to believe who let the troll in the castle.”

You snap your fingers, “Malfoy, the older one. I know that lump’s got something to do with this. Can’t have been Snape or Quirrell.”

“Just you wait.” Harry’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “—and so, Professor McGonagall finds us, and can you believe it? She awards us for dumb luck! Then. . .”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1979; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

IT HAD COME AS A surprise when you volunteered to join the Order of the Phoenix. You wanted to scoff at their shocked faces — was it so surprising that you wanted to protect your family? They let Severus Snape join their ranks, and you’re fairly certain that you’re a better fighter and survivalist than him — not the better liar, however, he can have that one. The week before, you and the others had an argument that lasted for the whole day. They did not want you in harm’s way, and you would rather die than stay at home, waiting idly for them to return, when you could be out there alongside them.

(“It’s not some game out there!” Remus runs through his hair in frustration — he had always been so careful to never raise his voice at you, but this one time, he needed you to back down. “Every time you step into a raid, there’s a possibility of you dying, don’t you understand that? And even if you survive — you’ll have blood on your hands, and it does not wash away no matter how many times you try, trust me, we know.”

“So what?” You throw your hands up in the air, equally aggravated. “I just stay here like some. . . some pet waiting for their owners to come home?”

“Yes!” Lily angrily replies. “That is the whole point of us joining the Order — so you get to live another day. So we all have a chance at this new world without a war. Let us protect you!”

You grind down on your jaw. “You have got another thing coming, if you think I’m not going to fight tooth and nail for my future.”

James slams a fist onto the kitchen counter. “There are horrors out there you can’t even imagine. I-It’s worse than we thought. It’s our every nightmare come to life.”

You raise your chin defiantly. “Then we face it together.”)

Each day, you survive, and each day the five of you return home — scarred and bruised, but safe within the arms of one another. When you collapse and crumble, it is only for the walls of your home to witness.

Now a month into autumn, you are on your first task without Sirius, James, Lily or even Remus. Instead, you are assigned by Dumbledore to Knockturn Alley along with Peter Pettigrew and Gideon Prewett. How strange time was, years ago you’d never associate with the proud Gryffindors, and now you had to trust them to guard your back. Everyone had to grow up quickly during war, even pranksters.

The alley was quiet — too quiet for your liking. You had been on alert since the moment you apparated into the area, wand at your ready. The back of your neck prickled with goosebumps as you kept an ear out for any sign of movement.

Peter shivers and you glance at him — he’s become far too skinny, constantly shrinking into himself out of fear. And while you want to comfort him, you keep your eyes up ahead. Still, there's a nagging feeling that you can’t quite make out. It’s different from all the other times you’ve been asked to search and rescue.

“Don’t you feel like there’s something wrong?” You ask Gideon, eyes snapping to the flock of crows flying overhead.

“Dunno, kid,” Gideon says, nudging your shoulder with pressed lips. “Everything about this is freaking me out. The place is too empty.”

“I get what you mean,” You reply, swallowing your own nervousness. Without waiting for the rest, you speed up your pace. “I’ll scout ahead, who knows what’s been here before us. I don’t want to risk any of our lives, so let’s be careful. Gideon, ward the area while I check for any cursed objects, last time you almost got your arm cut off by a newspaper of all things. And Peter, could you. . . Peter?”

When you turn to check behind you, it all happens so fast.

“Avada Kedavra!”

You scream as Gideon’s deathly pale body falls to the floor.

“No!”

You aren’t given a moment to rush to his side — someone digs their wand in the side of your neck, and you stiffen in their hold. It’s not until they hiss in your ear that you recognize the voice.

“Rosier.” You spit, biting down on your lip when he presses the tip of his wand further into your flesh.

“Stupid witch,” He taunts, eyes dilating with vengeance. “Where are your lovers now?”

“Jealous?” You claw at his arms, chest heaving up and down. “We don’t have room for one more, sorry.”

“Shut up!” He pushes you to the ground in blind rage, and that’s all the opening you need.

“Expulso!”

Each curse you send his way lands on his cloaked body, sending him staggering backwards. With ease, you deflect each spell he counters with. You’re winning, he is growing tired, and perhaps that is why you let your guard down.

“Accio wand!”

The magic fizzles out, and the spell dies on your lips. As you swivel your head to find out who’s stolen your wand, you expect to find another Death Eater — except it’s Peter. Just Peter Pettigrew, quivering in his boots with tears and snot dripping down his face, your wand in his free hand. You furrow your brows — it doesn’t make sense.

“Peter?” You call out.

“Crucio!”

The curse finds its home in your body — and it sinks deep into your flesh, grinding your bones until you slump to the ground, wriggling as you draw blood from your lips, refusing to let them hear an ounce of your pain. Blood trickles down your nose as you hear Evan Rosier dancing around you in glee. You know this curse well; the sound of your father condemning you gleefully echo in your head. You crawl over to Gideon — hand desperately reaching for his shirt.

“Crucio!” Rosier grabs you by the hair and howls with laughter. “Scream for me again—Crucio!”

It’s as though someone had begun to rip you in half. Your bones shift and crack with every uttered curse. The veins in your eyes have popped and through bloody vision, you see Peter cowering away from you.

“You—fucking—traitor,” You gurgle, throat welling up with blood that’s risen from your stomach. “They’ll—never—forgive you—never.”

“Crucio! Crucio! Crucio! Come on, witch — SCREAM! Look at her go, Pettigrew, crawling like some pathetic worm.”

You lay in your owl pool of blood, wearing a body that is marred and lacerated. But you see something in Gideon’s hand. I’m sorry, you want to tell him. I’ll get you home to Molly, you promise, please lend me your magic this once. With every last bit of your strength, just as Rosier directs another curse at you — one you know you won’t survive — you snatch the wand from Gideon’s hand and tear the last of your magic from your throat.

“Defodio!”

You wait with a bated breath as silence fills the alley; lucky to have remembered Professor Flitwick’s quick remark as to how the slight difference in pronouncing a charm could alter its effect. Rosier stands on shaky legs, a stream of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. You watch as he looks down to his chest, where a gaping hole now lies instead of where his ribcage and heart should be. As Gideon had done before him, Evan Rosier crashes to the ground.

That just leaves one more problem.

Peter scurries to your side the moment Rosier can hurt him no longer. “I-I’m sorry—I’m sorry. I had to. . . T–They killed my mum, they killed M–Mary, and t–they said I would die too if I d–didn’t do this. I’m sorry. Y–Your father was there, too. He said he would take you in, let you l–live if you joined us. W–We can live, t–there’s still a chance for us to survive.”

Your fingers are bent at unsightly angles, the remnants of the Torture Curse still flowing through your veins, but your face contorts in anger as you let your hand curl around his neck. He sobs louder, and though your grip is weakening — you make sure he looks into your eyes, that he feels your touch.

“I’d rather—die.” You say through gritted teeth, nails drawing blood from his grimy skin. “You’ll die too—you’ll feel my blood on your skin—everywhere you go, Peter.”

Peter shakes his head, now clumsily pushing his wand down to the center of your chest. “Y–You were the only o–one who d–didn’t laugh at me. N–Not like the others.”

“When they find out—you’re dead, Pettigrew.” You laugh darkly as more blood exits your body through your lips. “There’s nowhere you can hide—you’re a dead man.”

“P-Please die,” Peter cries out, each killing spell coming out as a garbled whisper. “Please die, s–so I can live. I c–can’t fight anymore, I’m tired.”

Your vision goes a hazy shade of white, Peter’s silhouette fading away to the familiar scenery of your cottage in Godric’s Hollow.

Oh.

Dying is less painful than you had expected it to be. It’s like coming home after a day’s work.

You just wanted to rest now.

The world caves in on you, and you barely hear Peter’s next words.

“Avada Kedavra.”

(It’s past midnight when Peter Pettigrew arrives at Grimmauld Place, where it’s been altered to host the members of the Order, Lily sobs in relief and gathers him in her arms.

You’ll feel my blood on your skin.

You’re a dead man.

Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re home safe — welcome home — thank the Gods you’re alive,” Lily blabbers through her tears, checking his face for any major injuries. “Merlin, what happened? There’s too much blood on you. It’s on your shirt and your face.”

“It’s not mine,” says Peter hoarsely.

Sirius’s gaze darkens, arms crossed over his jacket as he leaned against the wall. “Where is she?”

Lily nods, standing on her tiptoes to search for any sign of you. “Peter? I–Is she alright? Has something happened to her?”

Peter stays silent for a moment too long, and he finds himself slammed against the wall behind him, Sirius snarling in his face as he seizes the front of Peter’s soiled shirt. “Where the fuck is she, Pettigrew?”

Peter begins to weep. “I–It was an ambush. None of us saw it coming. Gideon r–ran. She was taking on two Death-Eaters at once and I–I was too far away.”

Lily collapses to the ground with a heart-wrenching scream.

Sirius growls as he drives his fist to the wall, inches away from Peter’s face. “Where is her body?”

“It was a disintegration spell.” With Severus Snape — brought to the Malfoy Manor to be made as an example of what happens to blood-traitors.

James pushes Sirius out of the way and grabs a hold of Peter, knocking his head against the concrete. “It should have been you—” James snaps at Peter. “If it came down to you or her—you should have saved her!”

“W-What?” Peter stammers, eyes wide. “She chose to save m–me.”

James sneers at him. “You should have just died.”)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1996; CURRENTLY, IN THE PRESENT.)

ST. JEROME’S GRAVEYARD had exactly one visitor. Remus Lupin sits in between James and Lily’s graves, a bottle of firewhiskey in his hand — four empty at his side. He must be going crazy. There’s no funeral for Sirius as there’s no body to actually bury, Harry is presumed missing after an attack in Diagon Alley, and your name stares back at him mockingly. He tries not to dwell on your passing — there have been too many holes, too many details left unsaid; and he knows just the rat who has all the answers. Unfortunately, Wormtail won’t come out of whatever hole he’s crawled into. Either him, or Severus.

He sighs, rubbing the temples of his head to ease the growing pains.

You are the first to be buried of the five. Like Sirius, there had been no recovered body to lay to rest, but they asked for a compromise instead. Your name is engraved under Euphemia’s in her tombstone, and Remus figures it’s the fitting place to leave you be — with your mother, welcoming you home with open arms. He hopes you’re at peace, wherever you are. (Because, honestly, at this point, he might just fucking follow you.)

Remus takes another swig of his alcohol, laughing bitterly to himself. He glances at James’s headstone and raises his bottle to him. “Not even in death, huh?”

He downs the last of the drink, rising to his tremulous legs. Remus gathers the flower bouquets he had bought earlier this morning; lilies-of-the-valley for Lily, white carnations for Euphemia, forget-me-nots for you, and for James — Remus leaves a moving photograph of him and Sirius; it’s a snapshot taken by Lily during the wedding as James dips his head low to kiss Sirius. Remus thinks it’s a wonderful memory to remember them by.

“Take care of them for me, Jamie.”

And that is all the goodbyes Remus has the strength for.

end note. i think i was crying the whole time i was writing this part, LMAO. i should be able to wrap things up in the next one. important!! there is actually a scene i was hesitant to include, but i ended up writing anyway. it's the whole part where allegra greengrass breaks down, and it was difficult for me to decide because i knew the implications; that i had a strong underlying message in that part, and i don't want it to be misconstrued or anything. pls pls tell me if it comes off as offensive, i definitely don't want to hurt anyone. nevertheless, thank you again so so so much for reading!! if you spot a plot hole, no you didnt!! i hope the time-jumps weren't too confusing! again, thank you so so much for reading!!

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ginevrapng · 7 months

Note

I have this kinktober idea! It's okay if you don't want to do it though. Poly!marauders waking you up by eating you out

it's a sunday so your plan is to have a lie-in and you've woken up earlier than you thought with your dream interrupted. your eyelids are heavy and you blink slow as you wake up slowly. a low moan escapes your lips as you feel one of your boyfriends under the duvet. "fffuck," you moan, your hand flies under the cover to lift the duvet off to find james between your thighs. your hands grab james' hair, he groans as you pull his hair and you feel the vibrations of the noise hitting your clit.

"you finally awake sweetheart?" he mumbles against you. you wonder how long he's been going down on you but that thought is interrupted by him pushing two fingers inside your entrance and simultaneously sucking your clit. you loudly gasp and pull his hair harder.

the door to the bedroom opens and you see sirius looking down at you both and smirking, previously unaware of the morning activity you and james were up to. "well, well, well. what do we have here? moony come in here real quick."

remus enters the room with a cup of tea in his hand looking at sirius before he notices james between your thighs. james places a gentle kiss on your clit before removing himself and looking at the other boys. both of you look like you've been caught doing something you shouldn't be doing. "we didn't tell you to stop, did we prongs?" remus says as places his mug on the side and moves over to both of you, sitting behind you on the bed.

sirius moves next to james, opening your thighs wider, placing a kiss behind james' ear and then your inner thigh. everyone starts moving like clockwork, touching everywhere. sirius starts stroking james' dick causing him to whine, which then causes your moans to get louder. remus and you kiss for awhile before he decides he would prefer to hear the pretty noises you're making so he removes himself and starts kissing your neck, leaving some marks and hickeys. out of everyone remus is the most possessive, always wanting everyone to know you belong to him, that's why you, james and sirius always have at least one hickey visible, even more so when it's close to the full moon. remus plays with your nipples and pinches them while sirius does exactly the same to james.

you end up spending the whole morning in bed not leaving until the afternoon.

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theemporium · 8 months

Note

james eating you out under your hogwarts skirt in the corner of a corridor 🤭

this could literally have been a whole fic tbh bedjwwbkbf anyways thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

This wasn’t the first time one of the marauders’ shenanigans had gone wrong, and you doubted it would be the last.

But it was very, very different to their usual fuck ups.

A lot of the time when something went wrong, it was for one of two reasons: either they got caught long before they could even hatch a plan, or something didn’t work out in their favour. You had seen it time and time again in the years you had been friends with the boys, and it never failed to amuse you.

This had been no different. One of them had a stupid idea, the rest of them encouraged it and the planning began. Despite the close friendship you shared with the boys, they never disclosed any details with you, so you were left sitting with the others as they huddled in the corner of the common room discussing their next prank. And ten minutes later, they were out the door to play out the prank, or so you assumed.

Instead, the boys had returned with sheepish looks on their face and a very fidgety James standing behind them, and it was all because the boys had tried to fuck with amortentia.

They fucked up the ingredients or the process—you still weren’t sure of the details—and it seemed James had taken the brunt of it all when he pushed the others away from the bubbling cauldron.

However, none of you would realise just what side effects the dodgy potion would have on your boyfriend.

“Oh fuck,” your head hit the wall with a thump as you fought to keep your eyes open. “James, baby, please—”

“My pretty girl,” he groaned as his palms massaged the fat of your thighs, squeezing and pulling as he tugged one of your legs over his shoulder. “Taste so fucking good.”

“James,” you breathed out, your gaze shifting down but your skirt intruded the sight of your boyfriend lapping shamelessly at your cunt. “Someone can see us—”

“Don’t care,” he grumbled, his nose nudging against your sensitive clit until you were almost keeling over him. “Wanna taste my girl, princess. Can’t keep me away from her.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, your body was humming with white, hot pleasure and the mere fact that anybody—whether it be a student or a professor or even a fucking ghost—could turn the corner as see your boyfriend pressing you against the wall, kneeling between your legs as he ducked under your skirt to eat you out.

As it would turn out, the side effect of the dodgy potion made your boyfriend fucking insatiable. You had come more times in the last twenty-four hours than you probably had in the last few weeks, and it was all to do with the fact that James couldn’t get enough of you.

He had you sprawled across the bed until you whined about other people hearing during the night. He had you bent over the common room couch when the rest of the castle was asleep. He had you pressed against the edge of the tub in the prefect bathrooms in the morning. He had his cock down your throat in the quidditch broom closet. He had you up against one of the windows on the staircase up to the divination tower between classes.

James Potter hadn’t let you have a single break to catch your breath since he was hit with the potion, and it was honestly a shock you were still standing at this point.

“James, baby, please,” you whined, the noise was pathetic and needy, and something about the fact you could hear him slurping against your wet pussy between your pleas just made the coil in your stomach tighten. “We can’t—”

“Shhh, you can take it,” he murmured as his hands tightened around your thighs, pulling you closer to him until you were slumped against the wall with his face pressed against your cunt. “You’re still dripping, princess, can taste myself inside you.”

“Shit,” you hissed, your eyes clenching shut as your thighs squeezed around his head. “James—”

“Fuck, honey, need to fill you up again,” his voice was needy and whiny as he pulled his head out from under your skirt, his nose and chin and lips glistening with your arousal. Your eyes shifted down to see the way his cock strained in his trousers, how hard he was from simply making you come twice on his tongue. “You gonna help me out, princess? Gonna take my cock again?”

You were exhausted and you didn’t even know if you could stand up any longer, but the sight of your boyfriend pleading on his knees as he palmed his cock had your resolve shattering in seconds.

“Please, Jamie, fill me up again.”

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pretty-little-mind33 · 5 months

Text

Wildest Dreams

James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: Finding out that your ex-best friend might have smelt you in the Amortentia feels as surreal as you smelling him.

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: harassment, non-consensual touching (non-sexual), insecurities

When you hear the door to the classroom swing open, slam into the wall, and as if on cue a chorus of laughs resound around the room, you know it's James and his imbecile friends.

Your lips thin into a tight-lipped smile as you send Marlene an exhausted look.

"Gentlemen," Slughorn drones on as he turns to look at the boys, who comedically trip over themselves to find their spots in the crowd of students, "You're late."

"Evidently, Professor." Sirius Black quips and nudges his shoulder into James. The latter smirks.

James has somehow found his way next to you. He hasn't done it on purpose but when he turns his head and sees you beside him, his smirk turns into a wide smile.

A smile that never fails to make your knees shake and your heart feel like it could explode.

"Y/n," James whispers.

"Hi Potter," you roll your eyes, hiding a smile behind faux frustration.

You and James aren't friends. Well, unless you counted the years from ages four to eleven, when you had been inseparable. You'd grown apart these last years and while you'd cried over your lost friendship in first year, you had decided it was for the best to distance yourself from him anyway.

Having a crush on your best friend is incredibly cliché.

Still, although you weren't friends in the same way as you had been, James has always been kind to you.

He says hello to you when he sees you in the hallway. You have had pleasant conversations in passing, and when his family occasionally has yours over – for old times sake – you both sit on the balcony outside his window and talk as if nothing has changed.

You shift away from James a little, feeling too close to him, and cross your arms. You turn your attention to Slughorn as he clears his throat and lifts the lid from the pot, "Very well then,"

His sentence is drowned out by the soft, delicate smell that fills the room. You pin-point the scent of broom-polish immediately. Rosemary, vanilla, bergamot and cedar. Your expression falls. Bergamot and cedar. Your head spins and you wonder if James put on too much cologne this morning or if —

Your mind suddenly goes completely blank when you feel James's breath against your ear, uttering exactly what you had been wondering, but this time about you, "Hey, did you put on more perfume than usual? I can smell it from here," his voice is teasing and you feel just a little fainter than you already had been.

"Amortentia," Slughorn interrupts, "The most powerful love potion to exist. It smells differently to everyone, depending on what attracts them — or sometimes who attracts them," He continues on, explaining the dangers of the potion, but you aren't listening anymore.

You look up. James has gone quiet and he's staring at the bubbling liquid, a vacant look in his eyes. Your heart clenches and you turn your head, inclining it down. You must have heard him wrong. James must have been confused.

A pit forms in your stomach when James moves away from you, leaving your side feeling empty. You hear him laugh with Remus and your hand squeezes around your arms.

You hadn't worn any perfume this morning.

"Hey, Y/n/n," You're pulled from your thoughts when William, another Gryffindor, comes up from behind you and shoves into your shoulder so he's standing next to you.

"I knew I'd smell someone as hot as you in there," He teases, leaning in close. "Just like fucking vanilla," Williams brings his hand into your hair, twirling some strands in his fingers as he presses his nose close to your temple and inhales.

"Hey," You move your head away, feeling disgusted. William just barks out a laugh and his arm extends to grab yours. Suddenly, you're almost pushed to the side when James stands in front of you and shoves William away. The boy bumps into the cauldron and the Amortentia spills all over the floor.

"All three of you," Slughorn suddenly booms, his cheeks flushed crimson, "McGonagall. Now."

So you find yourself standing in the middle of James and William in McGonagall's office. The older woman is sitting at her desk, her arms crossed as she stares at you all from behind her small glasses. She looks at William first considering his shirt is drenched in the thick liquid from the Amortentia, "What happened?"

"Potter shoved me," Williams states quickly, glaring at James.

"And I'd do it again," James snarls, crossing his arms.

McGonagall looks utterly exhausted at their bickering and turns her attention to you. "What about you, Miss Y/l/n, care to explain what happened?"

William sends you a dark look, but when you look at James his expression is soft. "William made me uncomfortable in class and when James saw, he accidentally shoved him into the Amortentia and it spilled all over."

"It wasn't an accident! He did it on purpose!" William argues like a child and James sends him a knowing smirk.

"Oh yeah, the shove was intentional," he grins wolfishly, "Although, I didn't mean to knock the potion over, Minnie," James looks over at McGonagall and this time he looks a little sheepish. McGonagall just stares at him as if he has gone insane and then she looks at you.

"You can leave, Miss Y/l/n," she says and looks back at the boys and hums, "You two may not."

You glance at James a little nervously but he sends you a reassuring smile. So, you ignore William's loud complaining and thank McGonagall as you walk out of her classroom.

* * *

A few hours later, when you're walking out of the Great Hall after dinner, you and your friends run into James again. He's also with his friends, leaning against the wall, and they're laughing obnoxiously loud.

However, when James sees you his smile widens. "Ladies," he says, crossing his arms cheekily.

"Gentlemen," your lips curl into a smirk as you nod at Sirius, Remus, and Peter. James tilts his head at his friends, his expression quirking almost as if he's annoyed that you mentioned them and not him.

"You feeling okay?" James asks.

You stare at him, trying to understand exactly what he means.

Does he really care or is he only asking because he's in trouble because of you. Is it mocking?

You start to overthink and James can sense it. So, he moves a little closer to you and you can smell his cologne. It sends heat creeping up your neck.

He asks again. "After what happened with William," he whispers, "when he made you uncomfortable. Are you okay?" James looks genuine and you see his hand hesitating to touch your arm.

You look up at him, staring into his eyes, "O-Oh, yeah. I'm fine. I was just - I didn't think anyone would have smelt me in that potion," you laugh, rambling because that's what you do when you're nervous. You can see James's expression shift into a small smile.

"You'd be surprised," he says, rubbing his nape, "Hey, can we talk in private? I wanted to ask you something?"

Once you say yes, you find yourself in a small, empty, classroom with James. You lean against a desk, hand gripping the edge as you stare at him. "What's up?" you ask. James has never asked you to talk like this.

"My mum is having one of her family dinners for Christmas," James starts, "I wanted to invite you, personally," he adds, as if he's been rehearsing.

Usually, his mother will invite yours and then by proxy you'll show up. But, this is different. "You want me to come?" your eyebrow raises in confusion, "Personally?"

"Yeah," he sounds unsure, "I mean we're friends, right?"

Is that what we are, you want to ask him but you don't. "I didn't think we were friends anymore," You say honestly and James's expression falls.

He fiddles with his hands nervously but walks closer until he's directly in front of you. You lean away from him and into the desk, chin tilted up to look at him.

"I'm an idiot," he whispers, looking at you intensely, "I shouldn't have let you slip out of my hands like that. I, well, miss you, a lot."

You listen to him with harsh breaths, trying to understand where this all comes from and why now.

James's hand reaches out and hovers over your cheeks until he holds you and brings you closer to his face. Your eyes round. You're so sure he'll kiss you with how close you are and by the way he's looking at you. You don't have time to make up your mind if you'd want to kiss him or not, because instead, he guides your cheek to his chest and his arms wrap around you.

He crushes you into a hug.

Your breath escapes you in a sigh, "James?"

"Y/n," he says your name smoothly and soothes a hand down your hair, "You smell like vanilla and cinnamon. With just a hint of freshly-mowed grass, probably because whenever I see you after a Quidditch match you always have some grass in your hair, right here," James says in a whisper and his finger traces behind your ear.

"Usually from a small tumble," he adds, "You're so clumsy sometimes."

You pull away only to have him hold you closer.

"I can't keep pretending I don't think about you," he admits and that sends all emotions crashing over you. You stare at him, lips parted and eyebrows creased, as you try and understand the meaning behind the words. "I smelt you in the Amortentia," James admits.

"You smelt me? You're joking."

James suddenly frowns and he watches as you practically try and sink into the desk behind you. He can take a hint and he moves away. "What? No?"

You feel your cheeks burn hot with embarrassment. "You aren't joking?"

James's face softens and he smiles. "Of course I'm not – I smelt you and also your perfume which," his smile turns into a smirk, "I can tell you aren't wearing right now." James chuckles happily, his eyes crinkling in the corners and your heart flutters. "Merlin I gave myself away in that classroom, didn't I, love?"

Your insides become mush at the nickname and you find yourself nodding.

James looks at you fondly even when he says, "I understand if you don't feel the same. If I'm not the boy you like or a boy you want. I have been a foolish ass for the majority of our time here at school. I've ignored you and worse than that, I let myself forget how lucky I was to have you as my friend and I'm so sorry."

As you hear his words, you can feel tears brim in your eyes. James's fond smile disappears and he starts to panic. "Hey, hey, hey!" his hands cup around your cheeks without even thinking. "I don't want to make you cry, love. Y-you're okay," he promises frantically.

James is so close. His cologne has invaded your senses until you can't think clearly. All you can do is lean in closer until your nose brushes his. James is surprised but when he looks into your eyes, his body relaxes as he understands what you want. You like to think it's all the years you were friends that makes it so easy for James to understand.

"You want me to kiss you?" he whispers, his voice husky and low.

You feel warm all over as his arm slides behind you and he holds your lower back, waiting for a yes so he can pull you closer. You nod, smiling. You wonder if I have to tell him he's the one you smelled in the potion or if he'll understand by the way you kiss him.

James's lips press onto yours. He's testing the waters, making sure he's not moving too quickly or too slowly. You let your hand find his hair as you pull him closer. James's hand wraps around you and in the passion, he hoists you up onto the desk behind you and you pull him in.

You kiss him like you've never kissed anyone and it takes your hand on his chest to snap James back into reality. He gently disconnects your lips and leans his forehead on yours.

His eyes are still closed when he says, "Shh, we have all the time in the world. I don't plan on letting you slip away from me again, Y/n," he says it like a promise. Like a prayer.

Finally, you speak, "James. I missed you," you admit in a whisper.

James holds you closer. "I missed you more. You don't know how much you mean to me."

You laugh, feeling how close he is and how badly he doesn't want to drop your hand. "I think I can guess," you say teasingly.

James shakes his head. "My love goes beyond any words I could possibly muster."

You stare at him with a raised eyebrow. "Since when is James Potter such a hopeless romantic?"

James grins, his hand sliding down to your thigh as he draws soothing circles on your skin, "He's always been a romantic, darling. He just hasn't had the chance to show you," he whispers and quickly kisses the tip of your nose.

"Well, he can start now," you smile.

James nuzzles his nose into your shoulder. "So, does this mean that we're friends again?"

You pull away and send him a playful look. "Can this mean we're more than friends now?"

James looks into your eyes and deep in his brown ones, you can see his sincerity, "We'll be whatever you want, love," he says. He hugs you close and your face is buried in his neck. You sniff, your smile widening.

You whisper into his neck, "Bergamot and cedar."

James chuckles, still holding you, "What was that, love?"

"Nothing," you smile, simply content with holding him.

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