Latest Posts by moonkillerreads - Page 2

lily mf evans.

the only woman ever.

😊

How about a fic where Remus falls for reader who is Sirius’ sister? If Sirius freaks out with Regulus and James, just imagine how protective he would be with a sister! Specially if she is sweet and kind (totally opposite of him and Regulus)

will I ever make a sibling fic that isn't chaotic? no, likely not. also, I didn't exactly make her the opposite of Sirius and Regulus but it could be argued that she's better than them anyways. ALSO, I've always refrained from reader-inserts with Black!sister reader simply because I see her as Reggie's twin who looks the way he does, and also can't get beyond the fact that she would have a celestial name SO, in any Black!sister fics going forward, please note that her middle name will have been Soleil which is French for sun, and the boys call her Sunny as a nickname <3

Remus Lupin x Black!sister reader who he has fallen head over heels for [1.5k words]

CW: siblings, threats of murder

Most boys at some point in their lives will be asked the following question:

Are you a mummy’s boy, or a daddy’s boy?

If a boy wasn’t asked such a question, it was likely because the answer was painfully obvious.

“Little Lucius Malfoy is such a daddy’s boy.”

“That James Potter, such a mama’s boy”.

“Oh, sweet Peter Pettigrew, he has always been a mummy’s boy.”

Since the answer was so painfully obvious, neither Sirius Orion Black or Regulus Arcturus Black had ever been asked this question. For them, the answer was simple:

They were their sister’s boy’s.

It was this fact that made Remus Lupin’s current predicament so bloody difficult. 

“Where is she!?” Regulus barked as he stormed over to the Gryffindor table where Sirius was sitting beside James across from Remus and Peter.

“Goodmorning, Reggie.” Sirius offered instead of answering his brother.

“For Sala- hi, Sirius. Where is she?”

“Where is who?” 

“Your sister.” Regulus spat, causing Sirius’ brows to furrow as he chanced a look over his shoulder at his brother. 

“How is she my sister? She’s your twin.”

“Nevermind that, do you know where she is?” Regulus muttered.

Sirius sighed and stood from his seat to scan the Great Hall. 

“Nope.” He offered with a pop of the p before returning to his breakfast.

“I’m going to avada that meddling witch!” Regulus hissed as he stormed off; Remus, James, and Peter all watching after him as Sirius continued happily with his toast.

“Are….you not worried about her?” Peter asked cautiously then.

“Not really.” Sirius responded quickly. 

James let out a breath at that and shook his head in disbelief. “Siblings are weird, mate.”

“Thanks, Siri.” You chimed as your head popped up between James and Sirius; the former shrieking not unlike a displeased mandrake plant as he clutched at his chest. 

Neither you nor Sirius paid him any mind as Sirius nudged his plate closer to you so you could pick from it. 

“What’d you do now?” Sirius asked.

“I simply told one of Reg’s admirers that he was already seeing someone; I hardly see what all the fuss is about.” You offered simply, causing Sirius to look at you in bemusement and mutter “Reg is seeing someone?” at the same time James looked at you in horror and hissed “Reg has an admirer!?” 

You simply smirked and looked at Remus who was sitting across from you and shot him a wink.

He hoped to all get out that no one noticed the heat radiating in his cheeks as he smiled nervously down at his plate, though he was relatively certain he could feel a set of spectacled eyes burning a hole into the side of his head. 

“Wait, why do you look like that?” Sirius asked then, causing the table to look at him to see he was surveying your form.

“Like what?” You asked him slowly, looking down at your uniform as if to see what Sirius could possibly be talking about. 

“You look…like…nice.” Sirius muttered as if that was a particularly bad thing.

“I always look nice.” You argued then.

“That’s not true, you usually just look fine.”

“You’re such a git.” You spat, taking the piece of toast he had in his hand and taking a bite of it.

“Doesn’t she just usually only look fine?” Sirius asked then, and Remus was horrified to see he was looking at him. 

“Me?”

Sirius nodded impatiently as if saying “yeah? What about it?”

“Why are you asking me?” Remus asked somewhat shrilly. 

“You’re objective.”

“And Peter and James aren’t?”

Sirius huffed as he kicked Remus in the shin under the table. “Would you just answer the sodding question?”

“I…well,” and Remus looked at you - you, who always looked nothing short of lovely and radiant and dauntingly perfect in every way, and today had been no exception. But he couldn’t very well say that. “She…she looks fine, yeah.”

Sirius’ brows furrowed further as he turned back to look at you, and Remus tried to pretend he didn’t notice a brief look a hurt cross your features. “You do, though. Look lovely today, that is.” He added awkwardly, simply receiving a half-smile in response. 

“Sunny!” Regulus barked then; apparently having found his way back to the Great Hall in his search for you.

“Oh, Merlin and Morgana.” You grumbled as your head fell back in exasperation.

“What did you tell him?”

“Who?” Sirius and James parroted. 

“Sunny.” Regulus repeated, his gaze never moving from you as he sidled up behind you. “What did you tell him?”

“Oh, stop with the theatrics, Regulus; you’re embarrassing yourself.” You drawled, sounding like a true upper-classman as you refused to look at your twin. 

“What did you tell Fenwick?” He gritted out slowly in a way Remus was sure would make a lesser man cower, but you simply rolled your eyes at him. 

“I simply told him that he was grasping at billywigs because you were already seeing someone.” 

Regulus held your gaze as you raised your eyebrow at him. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.” You hissed, completely unimpressed. 

“Who in the hells are you seeing?” Sirius asked then, causing the two of you to look over at him.

“Nevermind, Siri.” You responded in a bored tone around another bite of his toast.

“I will too mind, thank you very much! Who is my baby brother seeing!?”

“Oh relax, Sirius, there’s no need to call the DMLE; it’s not like Sunny’s seeing anyone.” He chuckled, causing Sirius to snort in laughter.

“That’s true.”

You made a disbelieving sound as you looked between your two brothers. “What in Merlin’s name is that supposed to mean?!”

“That means, my dear baby sister,” Sirius responded curtly as he yanked his toast back from you, “that you must never date, otherwise your big brother will end up in Azkaban.” 

“Oh give us a little credit, Sirius; we’d get away with it.” Regulus countered. 

“Why!?” You beseeched. 

“No one is good enough for you, obviously.” Sirius responded simply, as if you were quite ridiculous for even needing to ask. 

“And anyone who thinks otherwise will end up dead.” Regulus continued earnestly, causing James to bark a laugh.

“Don’t worry Moons, Pete and I will make sure your funeral is nice.” He said as he brought another spoon of cereal to his mouth.

Remus felt all blood drain from his face as everyone turned to look at him.

Regulus stared at him in a confused sort of horror, Peter looked at him with a sympathetically worried expression, Sirius didn’t look exactly horrified or disgusted as Remus had thought he would, but he definitely looked disturbed to some level, and you were looking at him with what he thought (and certainly hoped) was hopeful surprise.

James looked up at the silence to see everyone staring at Remus, whilst Remus just stared at him in betrayal.

“James!?” Remus whisper shouted; his voice having apparently run off along with his bollocks. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Regulus finally asked then, staring daggers at Remus as Sirius raised his hand slightly as if warning Regulus off of his best friend, though never removing his own scrutinising gaze from Remus. 

“James, what’d you mean by that?” Sirius asked James - eyes still glued to Remus.

“I, well, erm. I’m actually, not entirely sure? I just…well…”

“Do you fancy her, Moony?” Sirius whispered as if it was some horrid joke and so completely unfathomable that Remus could possibly find you as enchanting as he admittedly did. 

No, he wanted to say, of course not, Pads. That’s your baby sister, I’d never fall so head-over-heels for the sister of my best friend, that’s absurd. 

But that wouldn’t be true.

And he’d already been outed. 

His gaze moved to you and offered what he hoped was an apologetic smile before opening his mouth to respond. 

“Regulus is shagging James!” You blurted then, causing James to flinch so violently that his knees hit the bottom of the table top, and Regulus deflated severely from where he’d been staring down Remus like some well-trained guard-dragon. 

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” Sirius shrieked then, turning to point his glare at someone other than Remus, finally.

Remus had been so caught up in the verbal volleying taking place between Sirius, Regulus, and James that he hadn’t noticed you had disappeared from your spot beside Sirius until you popped back up beside him and were encouraging him up by the sleeve of his uniform jumper.

And you looked so sweet and so lovely and so hopeful and so mischievous and Remus really was helpless in the pull you had on him, which saw him rushing out of the Great Hall with your hand in his as you dragged him away from your brothers and laughing all the while. 

So yeah, this made Remus Lupin’s current predicament incredibly bloody difficult.

Because if Sirius and Regulus were sister’s boys, you were your brothers’ girl.

And that made Remus Lupin a dead man walking.

cozy wolfstar doing some bedtime reading 💫 (obviously it's remus who's doing the reading, sirius is much more interested in some kisses)

Dorlene

They dress so cool I'm jealous

Close up:

GIFTOBER 2023

DAY THIRTY-ONE: FREE CHOICE

A timeline of DONALD GLOVER and MILES MORAELS

Spider-Man 3 (2007) / The Amazing Spider-Man (2012) / Donald Glover: Weirdo (2012) / Community 2x01 "Anthropology 101" (2010) / Ultimate Fallout #4 (2011) / "Not Going Back" Live Performance (2011) / Ultimate Spider-Man 3x11 "The Spider-Verse: Part Three" (2015) / Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017) / Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018) / Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse (2023)

My favorite thing about J. Jonah Jameson is that he just hates Spider-Man. He supports mutants and doesn't hate enhanced people. He's not racist, sexist, homophobic, or transphobic. He just hates Spider-Man. And I'm half convinced that he's faking for the publicity.

He'd probably get pissed if he hears someone hating on Spider-Man for being enhanced.

"Spiderman isn't a menace because he can climb walls! He's a menace because he's climbing walls without a license or safety equipment! He's setting a bad example!"

"I just want you to know that you that your identity as an enhanced person is valid. Your identity as Spiderman is trash."

'Doctor' Sirius?

chef!Sirius Black x mixologist!reader who injures herself at work

CW: fem!reader, description of injury (slice to hand) that needs stitches, blood, hospital, A&E, Jeffrey, bullying Jeffrey part 1 | part 2

The familiar ache in the middle of Sirius’ shoulder blades alerted him to the fact that he was officially half way through his shift.

He took a moment to straighten up, letting his arms fall lax beside his body as he pointed his face to the ceiling. 

He could already hear Regulus berating him for his abysmal posture and Lily lecturing him about how he clearly hasn’t been doing the yoga routine that she sent him whilst James and Remus snickered at his expense.

He hated (loved) them all.

Almost as much as he hated how Jeffery kept showing up in his sodding kitchen. 

“If you’re coming to try to pilfer one of my staff, you’re barking mad.” He spat angrily as he carried on in his sautéing.

“Uhm, I’m sorry chef, but I really need to borrow Caleb.” Sirius heard you reply as his cheeks immediately heated up in embarrassment.

“Dammit; sorry Y/N.” He apologized quickly, lowering the heat on his burner and turning to give you what he hoped was his most sincere (yet dashing) apologetic smirk.

The salacious comment he had prepared died on his lips when he noticed you looking a tad alarmed as you instructed Caleb to take over the bar for you.

“What’s wrong?” Sirius asked quickly, barely remembering to turn the burner off completely before he was making for you.

“I’m okay...” You offered, not sounding like you completely believed yourself.

“That’s not what I asked.” Sirius grumbled as he took in your form, noticing you holding a black bar towel in your fist; knuckles turning white from how hard you were holding it.

The black of the fabric may have hidden evidence of what had taken place prior to you entering his kitchen, but he could make a deduction from the blood collecting between your fingers as it began to drip down your knuckles.

“You’re hurt.” He surmised, pulling your hand toward him.

“I’m okay.” You offered again, this time in a whisper. 

“Let me see it.” He instructed just as softly, encouraging the towel from your hands to expose a deep slice across the palm of your hand. 

Sirius made an embarrassingly sympathetic cooing sound as he replaced the towel on your hand and applied pressure to the wound. “What happened?”

“Was slicing lemons.” You offered quietly, refusing to look at Sirius as you kept your gaze down towards where your hand was sitting in his. 

Sirius tsked as he pulled your hand further into his chest as if proximity alone could heal it. “You have a kitchen full of well-trained staff and you thought to slice lemons on your own?”

You chuckled self-deprecatingly at that, but Sirius could tell your usual enthusiasm was dimmed. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

“If anyone in my kitchen ever accuses you of being a bother, you tell me; got it?”

“Yes chef.” You answered quickly, and though you still wouldn’t look at Sirius, he could see a small smile grace the corner of your lips. 

He would take it. 

He realized then that his kitchen was far too quiet and looked up to notice that everyone’s attention was directed at the two of you. 

“You lot can stare at people in your own time; get back to work.” He barked, causing everyone to quickly avert their gazes and carry on in their tasks. 

“Bunch of sods.” Sirius mumbled as he turned back to you, fighting the urge to push some of your hair that had fallen from its elastic behind your ear.

“Come, we’ll get you fixed up.” He said quietly instead, ushering you out of his kitchen towards the office and – more importantly – the first aid kit. 

Sirius shoved everything that looked like it might be of some importance to Jeffrey to the far edge of the desk and directed you to sit; fighting the urge to smile when he heard a few of Jeffrey’s things go tumbling to the floor. 

“I’m rather miffed with you, you know?” Sirius murmured as he stood between your legs and began to unwrap the towel-turned-tourniquet from your arm.

“With me?” You asked with a chuckle, though it was perhaps more strained than usual. 

“I have made quite the name for myself thanks to my fine slicing and chopping skills, and not only do you not give me the honour of showing those off to you, but you also go and hurt yourself whilst you’re at it.” He continued in his scolding as he poured some surgical spirit onto a square of gauze. 

“S’gonna sting, doll.” He murmured quietly, waiting for your nod of approval before wiping at the wound.

Sirius could feel every muscle in your body tense as you let out a pained breath, and Sirius doesn’t think he can be held responsible for the sympathetic whispers and apologies that fell out of his mouth as he finished up when he had you – his formidable mixologist – sat so vulnerable and injured below him.

“I know, I’m sorry; you’re all done.” He assured you as he binned the now bloody gauze and moved to grab the antiseptic cream.

“So? What’s the verdict doc?” You tried to joke. “Think I can go back to serving drinks?”

Sirius furrowed his brow as he delicately placed a new square of gauze onto the palm of your hand that was quickly saturated with red-tinged ointment. “You are absolutely not cleared for work.”

You chuckled self-deprecatingly as your shoulders slumped. “Keep it elevated and rest, then?” 

Sirius hummed noncommittally. “We’ll have to see what an actual doctor thinks.”

You whimpered at that, and Sirius paused in his wrapping of your hand to consider you.

Your brows were furrowed as you chewed aggressively on your lower lip and stared at Sirius’ work, mind seemingly miles away. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” He asked as he taped off the gauze, though he never relinquished his hold of your hand. 

“I think you did a good enough job, yeah? If I leave it be, it’ll be better in no time?” You asked him.

Sirius could tell that his responding grimace was answer enough to your question when your eyes quickly filled with tears. “Fuck.” You whispered as you hastily used your good hand to wipe at your eyes. 

“I’m sorry doll.” Sirius murmured as he considered momentarily rushing to medical school so that he could fix this for you.

He wanted to fix this for you.

Alas, he was but a chef. 

And soon, he was going to be a convicted felon charged with aggravated assault.

“Sirius, why is Caleb– what happened to my stuff?” Jeffery sputtered as he nearly hit Sirius in the back with the door. 

“There’s been an incident, Jeffrey, your stuff is a little inconsequential at the moment.” Sirius sneered.

Jeffrey pursed his lips as he considered Sirius before his eyes moved to you. “What happened?”

“Cut myself whilst slicing lemons.”

“Have you filled out an incident report?” Jeffrey asked then.

“Christ, Jeffrey; the woman’s hand is still bleeding. Unless the form requires her signature in blood, maybe you can relax about your paperwork for a minute?”

“Are you going to need to leave?” Jeffrey asked you as he pretended Sirius wasn’t even there.

“I-”

“She needs stitches.” Sirius interjected plainly.

“Fuck.” Jeffrey muttered as he ran a hand through his hair. “So, Caleb’s going to need to man the bar for the rest of the evening?” 

“Yes, and Charlie will have to man the kitchen.” Sirius responded as he all but shouldered past Jeffrey in order to grab his jacket. 

“What?” You and Jeffrey chorused; Jeffrey in panic and you in bemusement. 

“Charlie...” Sirius drawled slowly as he stared down Jeffrey and offering you his arm as he encouraged you from the edge of the desk. “You know? Weasley? Ginger hair? Has been working for me since he left school?”

“I know who Charlie is, Sirius.” Jeffrey spat.

“Oh, good. I was getting worried about you, mate.” Sirius said as he pat Jeffrey aggressively on the shoulder. 

“Where are you going?” Jeffrey continued as he followed the two of you out of the office; Sirius’ hand at the small of your back as he ushered you through the halls. 

“Taking her to the hospital.”

“Sirius, the-”

“Chef.” Sirius corrected harshly from the doorway of the kitchen; the room falling quiet as everyone turned to watch Sirius and Jeffrey stare each other down.

“Chef,” Jeffrey corrected, “the kitchen needs you here.”

“My kitchen and its staff are more than capable of surviving without me for a few hours. I have highly skilled and well-trained individuals here, do not insult them by insinuating they ought to be babysat.” 

One could have heard a pin drop in the kitchen at the end of Sirius’ sentence.

When it became clear Jeffrey had no response, Sirius turned to the kitchen staff.

“Weasley.”

“Yes, chef?”

“Take over for me for the rest of the evening, yeah? Caleb will remain on bar so shuffle everyone around as you see fit; text me if you need anything. But don’t need anything.”

“Yes, chef.” Charlie answered quickly; a muted yet proud smile gracing his face as he nodded at his boss. 

“Have a goodnight, guys.”

“Night, chef!” The rest of the staff called as Sirius guided you towards the back door to the parking lot. 

The streetlights flickered as the two of you stepped out into the evening; Sirius relishing in the cool evening air against his kitchen-warmed skin. 

“You don’t have to come with me, you know?” You said quietly. 

Sirius turned to see you standing near the door of the restaurant; arms wrapped around yourself as you chewed your lip nervously. 

“Would you cut that out?” Sirius sniped at you with no heat. 

“What out?”

“Chewing on your lip; if you’re hungry I’ll make you food, if you want to bite lips, bite mine; but leave yours alone.” He scolded as he marched over and gently pried your lip from between your teeth. 

“Wha- your lips? Are you offering me your lips, chef?” You asked slowly; eyes flitting from between both his before travelling down to his lips and back up again.

“I hardly think that’s surprising; I’m a very selfless person.” Sirius explained, emboldened by your reciprocal flirting to leave his hand cradling your jaw. 

You hummed. “So that’s why you shoved all of Jeffrey’s stuff off the desk; you just didn’t want me bleeding all over it.”

“Quite right. God forbid we ruin Jeffrey’s things.”

You barked a surprised laugh at Sirius’ inability to utter Jeffrey’s name without sneering it like a curse word, causing him to laugh as well as he took a step backwards towards his car. 

“Sorry doll; I can’t fix this for you,” he said as he gestured towards your injury with one hand as he opened the passenger door with the other, “but I can find you someone who can.” 

You pretended to be tetchy with Sirius the entire way to the hospital, but he could see your ill-hidden smile through the reflection of the passenger window at his quips and shameless begging for your forgiveness. 

You apparently had a thing about needles, and generally needing to be sewn up like some “moth eaten patchwork quilt”, which Sirius guessed wasn’t completely unreasonable. But by the third hour of waiting in uncomfortable plastic chairs in A&E, you were actually starting to get antsy.

“It’s like they don’t even want to use me as a pin cushion.” You muttered as you watched a coughing child get escorted down the hall.

“Do you think we ought to be worried?” Sirius murmured as he craned his neck to watch the child disappear down the corridor. “Not one person they brought back there has returned.”

You snorted rather inelegantly and sank further back into your chair. “I hope it’s nice, wherever they’re ending up...nicer than this.” You said as the light above you started to flicker ominously. “I bet they even have food.”

“Are you hungry?” Sirius asked quickly. 

“Sort of; figure they’ve got a canteen here?”

This time, it was Sirius who snorted inelegantly. “We are not eating canteen food.”

“Sirius, you should go.” You tried again, ignoring Sirius’ warning glare seeing as the two of you had discussed (read: argued about) this four times already since arriving. “You’ve been working all evening, and you’re probably starved too.”

“I am starved too, and that’s something I can fix.” 

“How exactly can you fix that if you’re not willing to order canteen food?” You deadpanned.

“Doll, we work at a restaurant.” Sirius explained earnestly. 

You rolled your eyes as you let your head fall back against the wall with a thud. “Jeffrey might actually have an aneurism if you call in an order right now.”

Sirius was quiet for a few moments, and by the time you peeled your eyes open, he was standing on the opposite side of the hall with his phone pressed against his ear.

“Sirius!”

“Shush, Y/N; we’re in a hospital.” He scolded. “Jeffrey! Hi! It’s Sirius! Can you put Weasley on the line. Good chap, thanks.”

You watched as Sirius began pacing, counting a tile between each step as Charlie picked up the phone. 

“Hey, I need you to make some food for pick-up; actually...make it delivery, please?” He corrected with a devilish smirk, watching as you brought your hand to your lips in a silent gasp. 

And though this isn’t exactly how Sirius saw his first real meal with you (save the hastily shared plates during shifts), he couldn’t deny that this potluck style picnic in A&E felt like the beginning of something really special.

And If Jeffrey’s blood pressure skyrocketed from having to cover the bar so that Caleb could deliver it for him, well, that was just a bonus. 

Just been served some ice cream by someone who looks like Sirius black

next time you’re reading a marauders fic and they make an “i’m always sirius!” joke and you think to yourself “…who actually thinks these are funny?” it’s me. i think they’re funny.

Sometimes I get happy bc of a fanfic then remember I’m reading a fanfic

More cars art, here’s me trying desperately to find a way to draw Sally

I can finally post this, I drew this over a month ago but it was part of a collab on F1twt

Otto realising that instead of selling off his own daughter and ruining multiple people’s lives for a king he doesn’t even like, he could’ve just waited until Rhaenyra became queen and she probably would’ve made the hightower house one of the most important anyway because of how much she cared for Alicent.

❝like the grass wants to grow, i want to run anywhere that you go.❞

summary. 'a tiny butterfly flapping its wings today may lead to a devastating hurricane weeks from now.' or alternatively, it takes six lifetimes for you to find each other.

pairings. poly!marauders+lily x reader.

word count. 8.9k (i tried to keep it short. i really did T-T)

tags. hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, happy ending. reincarnated/regressor!reader. no specific gender described. not proofread, we die like lucerys velaryon.

cws. brief depictions of death and war, themes of mental health and trauma.

note: lmaoao, as per the poll, here is the time-traveler!reader fic! i didn't cry during the angsty parts so it's probably not that bad.

YOU WAKE UP to a familiar weathered stone ceiling, owls softly hooting beyond the curtained windows, sunken in the mattress of a canopy bed with low snoring on either side of you. There’s a wilting candle on your nightstand, alongside an unfastened leather journal—a whiff of spilt ink under your nose. In your limp embrace, is a plush capybara with a turtle attached to its head. The quilt blanket is entangled between your thighs, the early morning breeze flurrying past the exposed stretch of your belly where your oversized granny-square jumper has ridden up.

It’s only then, when you try curling your fingers and wiggling your toes, that you realize that your body feels as though it had been hit by a shrinking charm. 

You sit upright instantly, heart skipping a beat from fright.

No.

You can’t have.

You reach for your brass handheld mirror, tucked away in the bedside drawers. 

There is no way you are this unlucky.

Yet staring back at you, is your eleven-year-old self.

Naturally, you end up screaming in frustration—startling the robins idle on the windowsills and all but waking the entirety of the Gryffindor castle. Prefects burst inside the dormitory, wand at the ready and crust in their eyes, in search of a threat only to find you on the verge of hyperventilating.

Bloody hell. 

Not again! 

Merlin, Morgana and Arthur—you are not going through puberty a sixth time.

“Oh, fuck me,” you mumble defeatedly as you fall back onto the patchwork pillows. Your roommates are gawping at you in horror, the sound of heavy footfalls echoing in the halls outside. 

Months ago, you had heard about the gruesome passing of Dorcas Meadowes—you weren’t necessarily close friends with the girl, despite being sorted in the same House, but you would grieve where grief is due. 

YOUR FIRST LIFE came to an abrupt end at the age of nineteen, in a quaint coffeehouse where the owner knew your name and the baristas wore a sunlit grin everyday. That day, no one had expected for Death Eaters to wreak havoc in Diagon Alley—it could have been anticipated, if only the Ministry was competent during the onset of the war. But with the extensive list of Muggleborn and half-blood casualties after that incident,  Ministry officials had no choice but to restrict certain areas and propose the ‘lesser-breeds’ go into hiding for their safety. This alluded to many families; most condemned to be blood-traitors. 

(There had been fleeting whispers of her dying at the wand of Voldemort himself.) 

Then, you’d woken up in the four walls of your dormitory. The sensation of being ever-so cruelly struck by the killing curse burning in your chest—a scorching fire, yet bitterly cold all the same. You had sobbed wretchedly, curled up in a shuddering ball of tears until your roommates had called for the prefects. It got worse when they tried to console you—you felt everything still. The panicked cries and screams of the wounded ceaselessly echoing in your head.  You remembered the shards of glass sinking into your skin as you dove for cover, Unforgivables apathetically hurled in every direction. 

It was not until Madam Pomfrey administered a Calming Draught and an elixir for dreamless sleep that you finally went out like a light extinguished.

Your second life was relatively longer—you had spent it under the supervision of mind healers at St. Mungo’s, after all. For the next thirty years, you’d been confined to a ward on the fourth floor. (Later, you would share this space with a couple who went by the names of Alice and Frank Longbottom.) Regardless of the bleak walls, it was not so bad. The quilts were warm and the assigned matron, Madam Strout, was kind and fussed over you regularly. While the healers had done everything they could, you continued to struggle with discerning what appeared to be your ‘first life.’ (Which one was your true reality? The first? Or the second?) Eventually, all the poking and prodding wore you down. Your fingertips had bruised and brittled. You could not look over your shoulder in fear of finding a Death Eater staring back at you. Night terrors plagued your dreams. 

(Your parents who had always embraced you with loving arms—they could not look you in the eyes now.) 

Memories bled into newer memories as the days went by. You haunted the corridors with a plagued stare, quickly becoming a woeful canard amongst the residents of the hospital. ‘The hysteric fortune teller,’ they called you. You who spoke of wars and rebellion at the age of twelve—but whose words nobody cared for when Voldemort began rising to power. You who’d gone mad and overwrought. In the end, you believed everyone else. 

(See? It must have been all in your head—a wayward spell that unfortunately damaged your memories.)

You’re unsure of how you died, but perhaps, you were never even alive in the first place. There was only so much Draught of Peace you could take before you inevitably became a soulless, sleep-walking husk of a person.

You woke up in the Gryffindor tower once more—this time, you’re careful enough to smother your cries.   

If you flinched every time Marlene McKinnon coarsely bellowed Dorcas’s name in the middle of the school hallways, or if you averted your gaze at the sight of Alice Fortescue and Frank Longbottom’s intertwined hands—it was nobody’s business but your own. In this life, you kept your head down, breezing through your homework and exams—although you had seen no purpose in it, at this point. Each morning that you woke up, you wondered if this was a favor from the Gods, or a relentless hell so meticulously-crafted for you.  

(But what sins had you committed for them to spit on you as they had done? Surely, you would be granted peace after two deaths.)

You could not tell your family, nor could you ask anyone else in Hogwarts if they remembered fragments of their past lives—for the last time you had done that, you were met with vindictive laughter and cruel gazes. 

(At that moment, you had understood Xenophilius Lovegood a little bit more. You never knew how many sought to trample on the wallflowers of the castle.) 

And so, you’d kept your head down until the end of your time in the castle. You stayed away from Diagon Alley and surrounding areas, and you willed yourself to perfect the art of apparating—a skill you wished that you had learned earlier. 

On the first of November 1981, witches and wizards had come to celebrate the fall of Lord Voldemort—which ultimately meant the death of James and Lily Potter. (You could not come to their funeral the first time around, seeing as you were chained to your hospital mattress that day, inebriated on the third dreamless sleep potion administered to you.) 

Under the eyes of St. Jerome, you laid bouquets of white roses and dahlias on their tombstones. 

“Wherever your souls are now, I hope you find each other and unearth peace,” you whispered to the two names engraved on the slate, hands clasped together as you rested on the grass. The winds had been cold and biting, a testament to the looming winter that would sweep away the tears on their graves. Like Dorcas Meadows, you did not interact much with James and Lily—but more than anyone, you knew how death was no easy enemy to conquer.

(You hoped their orphaned son would live a life that would not take him too early.)

A few months later, you met your demise to a werewolf named Fenrir Greyback. 

As you bled out on the grassfields, you wished for Death to come and take you faster.

When you awakened, it was in the same bed and the same dusty ceiling. 

There was nothing you could do but go back to sleep this time around.

After dying pathetically for a third time, a stubborn part of you wanted to fight back—so you did. 

Unlike your previous lives, you joined the Dueling Club, supervised by Professor Flitwick himself. Your wand work was clumsy and you stumbled on your incantations. You could not lift your wand without remembering a coffee shop laid to ruin and wreckage or the hardened gaze of Greyback as he sank his teeth into your neck. The times were merciless, your dance with Death even more—but you would not die helplessly again. 

As you lay in your bed, muscles aching from dueling practice, you had realized one thing. 

You did not want to stain your hands with the blood of another—having grown tired of the Reaper and his antics. If the Gods would not let you rest, then you would not let them take anyone else. 

After all, you had the stubbornness of a Gryffindor lion. 

For the next six years or so, you devoured your textbooks on charms and healing spells, refining your spellwork until your tongue grew numb and your wrists became sore. When the time came, you followed James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Lily Evans, and many more, in joining the Order of the Phoenix. (Perhaps you should have realized earlier that you all were just wide-eyed children on both sides, forced to partake in a war that should have never been yours to fight.) 

The First Wizarding War transfigured the years into a blur of mourning, surviving, and fighting in alleys now-bloodied. Even the sun hid behind the clouds, for brothers began turning on one another. You could only find solace in the fact you had kept Dorcas away from Voldemort’s clutches, volunteering to go in her stead during incursions, and Marlene McKinnon alive for another day to see her family.

But for how long could you cheat fate? 

Hours before your death, you found yourself in a forest clearing. The campsite was filled with witches and wizards afflicted with severe hexes and curses—a few of Dumbledore’s best fighters screaming in agony from the Cruciatus. 

There you found Remus Lupin, bruised and worse for wear, attempting to wrap a bandage around his shoulders in an empty tent. 

“You look like you’ve seen better days,” you said in a soft greeting, stepping inside the tent with a forced smile, your collection of potions and jars of herbal pastes jostling in your leather satchel. 

Remus chuckled tiredly. “Haven’t we all?” 

You gently pried the bandage from his trembling hands and maneuvering yourself at his back. You stifled the urge to cry at the sight of his scars—so violently red against his pallid skin. Compared to your previous lives, you had developed a friendship with Remus and his group of bold marauders—a camaraderie as true as it could be in dire times. (And if providence had been kinder, you could have dared to want more than just friendship.) You poured drops of Dittany onto his shallower wounds, murmuring empty words of comfort as he flinched and hissed.

“It’s Peter,” he rasped, abruptly holding onto your wrist as you turned to leave. “He’s been missing for hours. Please. I don’t know what I’d. . . what I’d do if. . . if. . .”

You squeezed his hand. “I’ll find him, Remus. Don’t worry.”

True to your word, you had found Peter at sundown deep within the forest. There was an unsettling quietude that hung in the air as you trudged to his side. He was kneeling on the muddy ground, head hanging low. It’s only then that you noticed the body laying still in his arms. Violent chills slithered down your spine as you recognized the woman in his embrace. 

“Mary!” you cried out, hurrying to them as fast as you could. 

“What happened?” you asked frantically, hands in a desperate search for a pulse. When you were met with no answer, you pressed again more heatedly. “Peter! Look at me!” You gripped his chin, heart hammering in your chest. “You have to tell me what happened! I can’t. . . I can’t help her if I don’t know what hit her.” Droplets of tears fell from your eyes down to Mary’s pale cheeks. “I can’t. . . I need—please. . .”

Bloodshot eyes stared back at you. “I. . . I didn’t want to do it.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” he croaked, burying his head into the crook of Mary’s neck. “I was so, so scared.”

“Peter, what are you talking about?” You grimaced impatiently when Peter lifted his gaze—but he was not looking at you, rather behind you.

The answer to your question was a killing curse to the back.

An unseen rustle in the bushes that you should have paid attention to, a cloaked figure darker than any shadow; a Death Eater that’d come to ensnare you in a perfectly-laid trap. 

(Damn it!)

(Damn it all to Hell!)

You awoke to the sound of your screaming and your limbs thrashing in the bed you’ve grown to despise. There was nary a remorse in your body as your roommates wailed at the sight of your nails drawing blood from your arms. Later that morning, the common room would be filled with talks of your faraway gaze and your scratched-up flesh. 

You could not take it anymore.

In your fifth life, you had sought peace—or rather, the most beautiful mockery of it. 

You decided to give up your magic to chase a semblance of normalcy. No more wands, no more moving portraits, no more jinxes and pranks, no more owls and wizard robes. Most of all, no more war. (‘But it did not work like that’, Death laughed.) In this life, you wanted what was denied of you in the previous ones.

A family.

A happy ending.

Bitterly enough, the Gods saw fit to give you only one of the two. 

You married a Muggle, to your parents’ dismay. He was nice and compassionate—a distant contrast to the ongoing turmoil of the wizarding world. But you could not bring yourself to feel guilt. You had been stripped of everything, which included the privilege to die and lay your soul to rest in perpetuity. 

(Who were you, if not a dead man walking?)

Over the years, you would have three children with your husband—three beautiful children born from love, in a world that would not actively seek to take them from you. You raised them all to adulthood, hoping they would not fault you for finding relief at the lack of magic in their veins. Their names were Kinsley, Piper, and Avery—and you had adored every inch of them, from their striking eyes to the tips of their stubby fingers. 

On your deathbed, you were surrounded by your grandchildren and your great-grandchildren. An image you held close to your heart as your vision began to deteriorate. 

Just this once, you prayed to all that would hear. 

Let me die surrounded by my family.

At the age of ninety-one, you drew your final breath.

And when you opened your eyes, you were back in Hogwarts for the sixth time.

TO SIRIUS BLACK, you are a curious little wallflower, albeit a withering one—you who blend among the crowd, with a sad gaze in your eyes and the fretful twisting of your fingers. He doesn’t know why he’s particularly drawn to you—but perhaps he understands, more than anyone, the hesitance of taking up space in fear of punishment for one wrong move. But you look so lost, meandering along the corridors like the ghosts of the castle—but even the spirits seem more alive and colorful than you. 

“What is it that they have taken from you?” Sirius wants to ask. 

(What judgment has fate placed upon you so—for you to cry each morning?) 

There is a raging urge in his veins to reach over and wipe your tears away, but what can he do as a stranger, if not watch powerlessly as you fade into the background? 

His fingers feel like they might fall off if they do not entwine with yours. He wants to offer up his shoulders to carry the burdens that weigh down on a creature as lovely as you. 

There are times when he and the other Gryffindors catch you crying at the long tables of the Great Hall. 

“O-Oh, was I?” Your reply is quiet. Resigned. Sirius has never felt his heart break more than in that moment. You move to weakly swipe at your tears. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to. . .” 

“It’s alright, really,” Lily says, her voice strained, the words lodged in her throat. Under the table, she seeks James’s hand for comfort. (How can someone appear to be so lonely and defeated?) “We all have those days.”

“Yes.” You blink away the fresh tears pricking at your eyes, mindlessly pulling at the threads of your woven bandages, a weary chuckle falling from the cracked skin of your lips. “Except, it seems the days never end for me.”  

Lily stays silent. 

Sirius shares a look with Remus from across the table, an unspoken question hanging between the animagus and the werewolf.

How do their voices call out to the one who so faithfully believes that the world has abandoned them?

But Sirius Black is determined and unyielding—what good of a prankster would he be if he could not bring a smile upon your beautiful face? 

He gets his chance during Transfiguration class, when McGonagall instructs the class to pair-up for an activity in turning miniature statues into birds. Predictably, you don’t move a muscle, staring ever-so intently at the sights beyond the classroom windows that you don’t notice the professor observing you worriedly—her lips tightly pressed and her eyes wrinkled with concern. Sirius slams his buttocks onto the wooden chair next to you; the sound of chair legs screeching bounces off the cobblestone walls.

“Hullo, partner.” Sirius grins as he offers you an enthusiastic wave, his dark curls floundering with his energy. He feels the gazes of his best mates boring into his back, but decides to ignore it for now—Remus can live without him for one class. In his mind—a perfectly-reasonable logic for an eleven-year-old, mind you—he figures that you would find class more entertaining if you had the right company. And, Sirius is wonderful company. 

You stare at him with furrowed brows and Sirius wishes nothing more than to bring fire to your eyes. “Partner?” you repeat, a tinge of confusion in your voice—a deafening cadence to his ears, as for once, it is not desolation that laces your words. 

“Partner,” Sirius affirms with a nod of his head, barely paying heed to McGonagall’s directions at the front of the room—but noting the mention of a prize for the pair who would successfully cast the spell for longer than ten minutes. He takes your silence for uncertainty, and replies with a light-hearted scoff—finding the pout on your lips adorable. “I’ll have you know I’m a bloody master at Transfiguration. Not even James could match me in this class—okay, maybe he could, but that’s not important, is it? Point is, with me at your side, Minnie will have no choice but to give us a hundred points!” 

From the frown on your lips, Sirius gathers that you’re unimpressed by him—a first, but not a total setback. 

He seizes the small box of porcelain figurines before you can blink, a wry smile on his face as he wrangles a boastful laugh from his throat. “Ready to have your mind blown? I’ve been practicing this spell since last night. There’s no way I’m getting this wrong.” 

“Oh, I’m Sirius Black, by the way—at your service.” He holds out his hand for you to shake, wondering what your palm would feel like in his. Cold? Warm to touch? Or, perhaps, a perfect fit—just as Lily’s hand feels laced with his?

He doesn’t find the answer to his question. Instead, you draw your wand from your robe pocket, and point the tip of the wood at the earthenware at Sirius’s grasp. 

“Avifors,” you recite delicately—such a flawless incantation that Sirius hears Merlin himself weeping in the depths of his grave. 

The figurine grows feathers and a beak—Sirius and the rest of the students can only watch as the weebill flutters its wings and soars through the roof. 

He’s stupefied. Breathless, one might say. But not because of your little trick—rather, the growing smile on your lips as you watch the bird fly across the room. Your eyes flicker with mischief, and like a man on the edge of a cliff—what is Sirius Black to do, but fall? 

THE END OF YOUR first-year at Hogwarts draws near, and so does the springtime—a coveted season for lily flowers to bloom. The April winds find you out by the lake edge, swinging your legs idly on a marble stone bench where the cypress vines grow along the cracks. Songbirds fly overhead as the daylight glistens on the surface of the Black Lake, a beech tree in the near distance, butterflies dancing past the gnarled trunk. Pollen floats like dust in a cupboard under a staircase. Ducklings waddle after their mother as riverine rabbits scurry on into the tall, purple nettles. On days like this, you find it easier to settle into your new life—but, perhaps, you have your friends to thank for that. 

Yet, as you find yourself wanting to reach out to their outstretched hands, flashes of children with your hair, your eyes, cheekbones whittled to resemble your own, haunt you. Their pure and gentle temperaments, painfully akin to their father’s. You mourn them every day. Their names are forever inscribed in the locket of your soul. (You did not find it fair—you who live again, and they who disappear forever. An existence that would cease to be—all because you fear what awaits you in this life. Why must it be you who should walk this land with a body scarred by wounds no one else can see? Why must it be you who mourns the loss of your family, your friends, and all your loved ones—everyone murdered by the Gods who spit on the five graves with your name written on it? Why? Why?)

Do you dare to live a life without them? Is it fair to deprive them of a chance of being a family while you waste away on the Isles? You may have lived multiple lifetimes, but not once have you been given the answers you seek. 

You will not find happiness without them; it is as you deserve. 

(For why else would Death torment you so if you are seen as innocent in their eyes?)

“How did I know I’d find you here?” A sing-song voice emerges from the trees, and you’ve no need to turn your head—the sound of Lily’s bright cadence is one you’re familiar with. But, somehow, you’ve grown fond of her voice, more acquainted with her smile and laugh than you’ve ever been in the last five lives. (You have to wonder if this friendship is one you’re permitted to enjoy.) Her grin is blinding, more so than the afternoon sun behind her. Lily’s wavy hair falls over her shoulder as she plops down on the empty space beside you. “We didn’t see you at lunch today,” she says, looking ahead, the warmth of her hand inching closer to your own. “I figured you didn’t want a bunch of whiffy boys around.”

Then, she looks around, searching for any prying ears, a stream of giggles falling from her lips. “Although, I must warn you—their pockets are loaded with food stolen from the hall, saying they’d give it to you when you returned to the tower. But I think Minnie caught onto them.” She chortles, a fond gaze in her eyes. 

You hum in thought, a smile unknowingly pulling at your lips. “Thank you, Lily. It’s sweet of you to come and find me.” 

She harrumphs light-heartedly, snootily lifting up her nose. “Don’t get too used to it. We’re only just best friends, after all.”

A silence encompasses the two of you, sitting under the shade, pink fingers shyly intertwined. Lily allows the minutes to flow by like a breeze on the waters, until she stares at you with thick emotions flickering in her emerald eyes. She nibbles on her bottom lip, long lashes kissing her eyelids. “Are. . . Are you alright? Is it one of those days again?”

You grin at her question, impishly nudging her legs with yours. It’s a gesture you deeply appreciate—befriending you and growing closer to you in ways you imagine are never in your cards. But Lily is only eleven, and you will not act upon your selfishness. (But, maybe—just maybe—you are allowed to relish in their company until you are called once again to your deathbed. In the next life, they might not know your name as they do now, and the revelation frightens you immensely.)

“I’m okay,” you say, a gnawing lie that sounds unconvincing to even your own ears. You stare at the flock of swans diving in the lake. “I was just missing a few friends back home.” You remember the toddlers that you used to call your own—their spittled possessiveness toward anyone who dared to snatch your attention away from them. “I don’t know if they would be happy with me going off on my own adventure,” you say, sparing Lily a knowing look. “They are—erm—Muggles.” 

“Oh.” Lily nods, mulling over your words. “Tuney. . . my sister. She sort of resents me ever since I left for Hogwarts. We live a world apart, and it barely helps that she ignores me during the holidays.” She sighs, averting her gaze elsewhere, a grimace pulling at her mouth. “Sometimes I wonder if all of this was never meant for me. That I was just a fluke. Why do I have magic and not her? Any day now, I expect for McGonagall to come and ask me to pack my bags and head straight home.” 

“But,” says Lily, her eyes resolute and her fire unwavering, “until that day comes, I will enjoy every bit of this world as I can. Tuney will just have to deal with that.” She offers you a mellow smile—a likeness to a kind husband that you had once in a past lifetime. “Besides, I think those who truly love us will understand the paths we must take. Even if it means parting ways for a long time. Your friends will not blame you; they’ll want you to live truly and freely.” 

Her words sink deep into your bones, and you can’t help but let out a hearty laugh. You simper at the confused tilt of her head. “Wise words, Lily Marie Evans. Are you sure you’re only twelve?” 

Lily beams. “Mum likes to tune into the Sunday motivational-talk channels.”

(“The ones we love never really leave us, do they?” Sirius Black will tell you one day, when you’ve bared to him the truth of your lives, and he looks at you no differently than he has before—with all the adoration and fondness of his heart.)

Later, before you and Lily make your way back to the castle, you pick three flowers among the chicory weeds. She stays behind as you kneel by the riverside. For the children you have loved, and will continue to love for eternity. Droplets of tears fall onto the water, joining the floating blue petals. “I’m sorry that I cannot find you as you are,” you whisper, a heavy weight lifting from your shoulders. “But I hope that we meet again in this life, whichever names you may take.” 

(After all, what love is stronger than one that perseveres across endless lifetimes?)

You carry them in your heart—letting cherished memories remain as such. Otherwise, you’ll be chasing what can never be again. It would be an injustice to their names to try and replicate a shallow imitation of them. They deserve more than that—to be treated like a pawn in Death’s game. They were alive and you will honor them befittingly.

You bid them goodbye and allow the tethers of their soul to untangle from your grasp. 

It is the most difficult farewell—and yet, the easiest act of mercy you have ever carried out.

‘THE FLAP OF a butterfly’s wings can evoke a hurricane in the next world over.’ 

This is a phrase you’ve come to be familiar with over the span of your numerous lives. It has never been truer than the moment you step outside the infirmary to find a group of mismatched Gryffindors waiting for you in the halls. Their heads snap in attention at the sound of your footfalls. In an instant, you’re crowded with their questions and worries—but you find it endearing, the way your friends fuss over you. It’s certainly a welcome change from a past spent by your lonesome in the castle. (You only wonder what makes this life so different from the rest? Why is everything changing without you noticing? What will be taken from you for this deviation in time?) 

“How did it go?” James asks, now seventeen and captain of the Quidditch team, wavy tendrils of brown hair swooping over his round glasses. The broad of his chest fills out his red and yellow jumper, crocheted by Lily over the yule break—the five of you, including Peter, Marlene, Mary, and Dorcas, have matching sweaters as well. 

Except, you like to tease them with a jest that Lily made yours with the most love—as no one else had the pattern of a capybara with an apple on its head. 

“Well enough,” you answer, patting his shoulder with a tired smile that reaches your eyes—for how could one not cheer up in the face of James Fleamont Potter? That would be saying the skies do not brighten in the company of the sun. 

By incontestable decree of Poppy Pomfrey, the headstrong matron of the castle, you are required to meet with a mediwitch from St. Mungo’s twice a week, since the start of your fifth-year. Healer Robbins floos to Hogwarts on Wednesdays and Saturdays to check up on your health, physically and mentally. Of course, you don’t divulge anything about your time-traveling dilemmas, lest you end up confined to a hospital ward again for the rest of your years. But you do end up addressing—albeit, begrudgingly—the dried tear stains on your pillowcase every morning, your wayward habit of purposefully missing meals, or your tendency to withdraw yourself from your peers on certain days—which coincidentally happen to be the anniversary dates of your deaths. (If no one would grieve for you, then you’d do it alone.) 

Who’d have thought that healing would be much more tortuous than hurting in the quietude of your room?

But one thing is for certain—this is a suffering you will endure with greed and hunger. 

For today’s session, Healer Robbins suggests you proactively live in the present more—which is easier said than done. 

“Although, she did tell me to stop slouching all the time,” you inform James, scrunching your nose in feigned offense, to which he replies with a hearty chuckle, pulling you into his embrace for a side hug. You burrow your nose in his scent of oakmoss and orris root, a lingering touch of broom polish as well—you feel the warmth of his hand splayed out on your back, and hide your grin into his chest. 

“Well, someone had to tell you,” says Regulus Black with a scoff, arms crossed over his chest, yet no genuine heat in his trenchant eyes. He looks pleased that you return unharmed from your meeting with Healer Robbins. Funnily enough, you’ve no doubt that the famed Black temper would emerge should you utter so much as a single word against the mediwitch. (You like her, though. Some days, Robbins lovingly spiels about her clumsy-footed wife—and in return, you talk about your sad feelings. Eurgh. Talk about a fair exchange.)

Among the many divergences in this life, one of them is the unforeseen friendship you have forged with Regulus Arcturus Black. But that story begins with Xenophilius Lovegood, when you stumble upon him in the Forbidden Forest chasing after a family of bowtruckles with a fervid expression and a journal in one hand. You protect him from foul-mouthed Ravenclaws, and he allows you to tag along in his woodland escapades—including a lifelong access to the kitchens beyond curfew. His lack of regard for personal safety is both endearing and maddening, you realize early on. One stormy night, you chase Xenophilius into the forest—he is barefoot, following the Mooncalf hoofprints, as you spit out strings of expletives and mouthfuls of rain. That is where you find Regulus, groaning in pain and carrying a burden that is much too heavy for a fifteen-year-old. 

Then, a year later, they decide to give you a heart-attack when you discover that Pandora and Xenophilius have taken Regulus under their wing—figuratively and literally. And, most of all, romantically.

You’re more speechless than Sirius had been when you catch him one fateful evening.

(“Don’t do it, Sirius Black,” you greet, startling the ebony-haired boy as you step out from the shadows. The common room is silent, save for the crackling embers in the fireplace. You stare at the sixteen-year-old with a vehement resolve, your hands curled into fists. If there is one fixed event you had to live through over and over again, it is the news of Severus Snape being nearly mauled to death by a creature so feared and gruesome. You will not let it happen in this life. His eyes flicker with shame amongst a sea of gray, and he knows that you know about his abhorrent idea of a ‘prank.’ 

You sigh, taking another step forward, hand coming to rest on his tense shoulder. “Let it go, Sirius. It’s not worth it. Bringing someone to harm is never worth it. If he dies, his blood will be on your hands—and you don’t want that, trust me. Be kind to him, Sirius—and even kinder to your brother. The two of you are all each other has.”

“Not true,” Sirius whispers back, almost afraid, his fingers tracing the curve of your cheeks. “I have you, Prongs, Lily, and Rem.”

“And Remus is exactly who we should be with right now,” you reply with a harsh glare. “Not in the common rooms trying to one-up Snape because of some childish rivalry.” With a long sigh and a shake of your head, you push back the dark curls from his face. “The times are cruel, Sirius. We must hold onto what we can.”

His forehead will fall onto your shoulder, and your shirt will be soaked with his tears, but you realize that you will hold him, and all those who’ve captured your heart, until Death himself pries you away from their embrace.) 

But, it all pales in comparison to the horror in Sirius’s eyes when you point at Regulus and Peter, as you utter with absolute conviction, “They are my dearest friends.”

While Peter may have been a traitor in another life, a murderer with blood and guilt staining his hands—he is only a skittish boy in this one. A timid student who hides behind the shadows of his friends. You will not let him go down that path again. The Peter Pettigrew you currently know is a mousy little thing, pun intended, who sneaks in a pouch of sugared jelly worms in the library for you and him to enjoy whilst copying off each other’s Arithmancy homework—you two automatically get perfect marks, seeing as you’ve went through school multiple lifetimes already. Truthfully, when you see him tongue-tied before Mary Macdonald, you can’t envision anything else than a lifeless body and a man apologizing for his sins. But it is hardly fair to condemn Peter for the sins of a life he has not lived—and will never live through, if you have anything to say about. 

A lion protects their pride, and that is what you shall do. Even if it tears you apart in the process. (Healer Robbins won’t be so pleased about that, though.) 

But, perhaps, the most unexpected surprise you’ve received this year is—shockingly—not the news of Dorcas and Marlene dating, and neither is Alice and Frank’s relationship as you have already known that since your first life. It is James, Remus, Lily, and Sirius announcing to the world, with a poorly-written poem for a gnome to recite on Valentine’s Day—courtesy of James Potter himself—that the four of them are in love. In all five lives, that has never happened. Not even Lucius Malfoy can call into question the genuineness of their devotion to one another—and he will not dare to do so in your presence, otherwise he’d find himself at the mercy of you and Narcissa Black.

The four of them are happy as one, and you would die to ensure they stay together until the end of their time. Dark lords be damned. 

An even bigger shock comes when their affection for each other unspokenly extends to you. Not in a manner that equals their rambunctious gestures—because the Marauders don’t do anything half-arsed. (And if they fall in love, they fall without fear.) But in a way that is quiet yet intense, ever-so mindful of your walls—with an intention to break them down slowly and only with your utmost permission. They leave you confused with each day that passes. (You fear that they think you pitiful for having not found a significant other.)

(For months now, your heart is set aflutter just by the sound of their voices—if they look at you as a token charity case, it would tear you apart.) 

Forehead kisses, hand-holding in the corridors, late nights in the kitchen—tipsy on gillywater and the scathe of each other’s touch. Picnics by the lake, bodies intertwined where no one knows where they begin or end. Ventures in the library where not a soul is paying attention to the passages of their textbooks—hushed giggles turning into unrestrained laughter until Madam Pince rounds the corner and has you all thrown out. (How long has it been since you felt so free?) It’s the little things, like your fingers brushing against theirs as you walk side-by-side, or the soft glint in their eyes as they stare at you from across the room—as though you are a jewel to behold. 

It is one thing to know that you are living a life after life—but it is another thing entirely to feel alive when they are nearby. 

You are alive when Remus relaxes on the carpeted floor of the Gryffindor tower, and as you lay on the velvet couch, he draws protection runes on your palm with his finger. When he thinks you’re asleep, he presses a kiss to the back of your hand. When the nights are unbearably long and you find a safe haven in his embrace, and he in yours.

You are alive when James cages you in a bear hug after an intense Quidditch match against Slytherin, limp tendrils of hair clinging to his sweat-soaked skin, pressing a series of fervent kisses to the side of your head until his voice is louder than the cries of victory coming from the cheering stands. 

(“Lay back down, James Fleamont Potter,” you command tersely as you push him onto the infirmary bed. You narrow your eyes at the bandages wrapped around his arms and neck, as though it’d personally wronged you. “Don’t even think about getting up,” you quickly add when you notice his droopy eyes staring at the doors—where Sirius, Remus, and Peter have gone off for a night of mischief. With an exaggerated sigh, James will roll his eyes before pulling you into the bed with him.) 

You are alive when Lily scours the Great Hall in the mornings, hair fussed from sleep and her face bare, and when her eyes finally land on you—none misses the way she lights up blindingly, as if she were a poppy flower emerging from the forest floors and all her petals are curling towards the sun. She bounds over to you with a smile that draws everyone in the room to her. And your heart will have no choice but to swell three times its size when Lily falls asleep mid-meal, snoring with her neck bent and a spoon dangling from her mouth. 

You are alive when Sirius dashes across the room to claim you as his Potions partner. He’ll spend the rest of the class with a triumphant grin on his face—sitting on a rickety chair as he lazily admires the view of your backside. And may the Gods help the poor soul who dares to question your work. 

(“See that lovely creature over there?” Sirius will say with a dangerous lilt to his voice, pointing to you who’s quite busy squabbling with Severus and Barty Jr. over frog legs. “They will be the greatest apothecary to ever walk the wizarding world—so watch your tongue, mate.”) 

They are your limbs, the blood in your veins—the ache in your heart. The fires of your soul. And when they are near, you are finally whole. (Healer Robbins certainly won’t like that, either—but this is a thought you shall selfishly keep for yourself.) 

That is why you had come to a decision at the beginning of the year.

“I need to tell you all something,” you say, breaking out of your stupor and finally meeting everyone’s eyes. You meet Sirius’s gaze from where he leans against the wall, his attention on you—and only you. You reckon he notices the way you’re fidgeting nervously with your fingers, gnawing on your lip as you suck in a deep breath. It’s similar to the way he acted when he first told the group about his intentions to run away from his mother. Healer Robbins told you earlier to not dwell on the past—it’s only a thing that time-travelers do, she had said. You suppose there’s no better way to exercise honesty than to tell your loved ones about the secret you have been keeping for the last five lifetimes. You just hope they won’t look at you differently when all is said and done. 

Marlene’s gaze worriedly flickers from you and to the infirmary doors. “Has the mediwitch said something?” 

You shake your head. “There’s something you should know about me.”

Like a badly-written joke, a pack of lions, a snake, and a badger follows you into an empty classroom. They watch with furrowed brows as you cast a silencing charm over the room. You feel the weight of their curiosity as you take a seat in the center, drumming your nails on your lap as everyone moves to do the same. Remus wordlessly takes the seat next to you, as though being by your side is a natural phenomenon—like the shores never straying from the sand. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze and you return his kindness with a weary smile. You look at the protective circle that’s somehow formed around you. Marlene, Dorcas, Mary, Xenophilius, Regulus, Lily and the Marauders. (Since when did you gain a family like this in such a short time?) 

“Where do I even begin?” you ask with a shuddery breath. “It might get a bit intense. . . and sad, and I wouldn’t want to overwhelm you. So it’s okay if you aren’t prepared to take this all in yet. I’d understand.” 

“What one of us goes through, we all go through together,” Dorcas vows with her head high. “It’s not the first time we’ve done this, love,” she says, looking at everyone else in the room. “We’re here for you. Always have been. It’s what friends are for, aren’t they? You taught us that. Let us return the favor now.” 

You laugh wetly, eyes crinkling with gratitude. “I suppose you’re right.” 

There is no time like the present.

And if all goes awry, you probably might just jump out of a window and reset everything. (You wouldn’t, really. This life is precious to you more than anything in the world.)

You close your eyes and draw air into your lungs.

No time like the present.

“When I first died, I was only nineteen.” Despite the pinched expressions and soft gasps, you force the words out. You have to. Otherwise, the tale of your lives will be buried with you forever. This is the first time you have ever said the words aloud. It’s both exhilarating and terrifying. “Death Eaters came to Diagon Alley. It all happened so fast, next thing I knew the killing curse was cast straight at me.” 

Regulus flinches, and you offer him an apologetic grimace. 

“But that wasn’t the end,” you continue amidst their horrified wide-eyes—feeling Remus tighten his hold on your hand. You chuckle bitterly. “If it had been, maybe it all would’ve hurt less. When I woke up, I was back in the Gryffindor tower.” 

“What?” Lily frowns as a shadow is cast over her eyes. “But how?” 

“I wish I knew,” you reply with a lodge in your throat, eyes thick with incoming tears. “I really wish I knew. But I woke up back in Hogwarts. I was alive again. Somehow, someway, I was alive. But I was dying.” You shut your eyes, head craning to the ceilings as you swallow back a sob. “Have you felt what it’s like to be burnt alive? That’s what the killing curse is like. And I feel it everyday. When I told the nurses this, I was sent straight to St. Mungo’s. They could not heal what was not found in my body. They called me mad. And there was nothing I could do but believe them. It was like that until I died on an infirmary bed, leather straps around my wrists and legs, forbidden to leave the ward and feel even the sunlight on my face. I was deemed a threat to the others and myself.” 

Lily beats you to the punch and cries into her hands—the harrowing sound torn from her throat. Mary, with her own stream of tears, pulls Lily into a hug. 

“I-I told you it was ugly,” you say timidly, averting your gaze out of remorse. “We can stop here if you’d like.”

“We’re staying,” says Lily with a guttural edge to her words, eyes quickly growing red. 

“Then, in my third life, I died by a. . . Greyback—it was Greyback who killed me.” You intertwine your fingers with Remus’s, who’s gone ashen from the reveal. “It’s alright.”

“The bloody hell do you mean it’s alright?” James bellows, running a hand through his hair as he tears himself from his seat, chest heaving up and down. “None of this is alright! How could you say that? We. . .We should tell Dumbledore or something—or anyone! This shouldn’t have happened to you—it’s just too cruel. . .” 

“I know,” you acquiesce with a low hang of your head. “I know.”

Sirius exhales jaggedly. “Was that the last of it? Of your. . . your deaths?”

“No.” You stare at him with regret. “In my fourth life, I died in a Death Eater ambush.” 

Xenophilius looks like he might faint any second. 

“But in my fifth life, I met some people in the Muggle world,” you explain, remembering kind eyes and wide smiles, a family made in a home far away from magic and wars. “I loved them dearly. When I thought I was being punished by Gods, they gave me peace. They taught me unconditional love and I. . .” You let the tears drip onto your skirt. “I might never find them again, but I’ll never forget them for as long as I live. It was the only death given to me without pain.”

You watch as Lily’s doe-eyes flicker with realization. Three flowers in a watery grave. 

“And here I am now. The end,” you say, forcing a crooked grin as you brush the dust off your school robes. 

No one moves a muscle for the next few minutes. 

You freeze in fear. 

(Have you upset them? Do they see only a talking corpse now?)

The room is suffocatingly quiet and you can’t bear to see the pity or judgment in their eyes—so you run out of the room as though Death himself was hot on your heels. 

They are right behind you—of course, they are. (Where a part of their soul goes, they will follow.)

“Are you angry?” You quietly ask, wrapping your arms around your waist—afraid to turn around and face them. “I would not blame you if you are.” 

“No, not mad. Never.” Lily falls into place by your side, hovering but never stepping past your erected borders. “Maybe at the circumstances. It’s all so unfair. I’m. . . We’re just upset that you had to live through that all alone. To die over and over. I can’t imagine how much it must have hurt each time.” 

You nod, swallowing the urge to crumble on the floor. “Then you’ll understand why. . . why you and I—all of us—I can’t be with you.”

Remus frowns, stepping forward to reach out to you. “What?” 

“Don’t make this any harder than this has to be, please,” you beg, voice hoarse and hands trembling. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Sirius presses further, a bitter acid to his words. He looks frightened, almost—guilt instantly pools in your stomach.  

“Don’t you see? Everything is changing!” You exclaim, grateful that you’ve chosen the abandoned corridors of the castle where no one dares to venture on a sunny day. “I can’t protect you if I don’t know what’s to happen next! I’d rather die again than let any of you get hurt.”

“Then don’t!” shouts James, veins straining against his neck, tears of his own glistening within his hazel eyes. “I would rather die than pretend none of what I feel—what we feel—for you isn’t real.” 

“You don’t know what you’re saying, James,” you retort with a sharp scoff. “I’ve no need for a relationship that’s borne from pity or charity.” 

“Pity?” Lily echoes incredulously. “You think I’ve confused love for pity? Is that how low you think of us? After all that we’ve been through?”

“Are you stupid?” Sirius bites back. 

“Excuse me?” you shriek. “Must I spell it out for you? I’m trying to protect you! I am cursed!”

“Not anymore than I am!” Remus bellows with his fists tightly clenched, his canines laid bare and his cheeks lit ablaze. “If you’re cursed, I must be damned. Why can’t you allow yourself the same grace that you’ve given us?” 

You wilt. “I can’t do it, Remus. I just can’t. If I die again, and everything resets—don’t you know how much it will kill me if we start as strangers again?” 

Remus encases you in his warmth, an embrace that promises to keep you safe from all harm. (What good of a monster would he be if he can’t rip apart your fears for you?) “Then we will find you in that life. And every life after that. We’ll use a pensieve, or anything at all—just so we don’t forget.”

You melt in his arms, bathing in his scent of caraway and bergamot. You feel Remus placing a kiss on the crown of your head. “All these things I know. All these lives I’ve lived through. What if I ruin everything in this life?” 

“Then do it,” Lily provokes stubbornly. 

“Ruin me,” James pleads raspingly—a falter in his steps as though he’d get on his knees and beg in an instant just for you to stay with them. “Ruin me as much as you’d like. You would be the most beautiful devastation of my life.” 

And so, you choose them. 

For there was never any other option from the start.

YOU WAKE UP in the dead of the night, sunken in a mattress that is one too small for five people to fit in, leafy vines and fairy lights wrapped around the posters of the bed. Sometime during the night, Lily had thieved the wool blanket for herself. You rest in between her and Sirius, their snores echoing into your ears as the grasshoppers chirp outside. The potted plants will swing from the ceiling as the evening breeze passes by. (You’ll scold James in the morning for leaving the windows open again.) By your feet, is a fat Tabby cat with one eye named Tuna. (Full name: Tuna Belly.) There are moving pictures on the flower-plastered wall, a testament to the life you share—and the life you have fought hard for. Ruffled pillows are strewn across the carpeted floor. Parchments and notes lay askew on the desk table across the room—Remus’s jittery preparation for his first day next week as Hogwarts’s newest professor. 

Remus will catch you wide awake and tuck you into his chest, murmuring, “Rest now. We’ve got an early morning tomorrow for Wormy’s wedding.” 

You’ll hum and relinquish your thoughts for the night, holding onto James hand over Remus’s belly. “I love you,” you’ll whisper. 

Remus will say it back without hesitation—and you know the others feel exactly the same. 

Minutes later, the door will creak open and a tiny shadow will come crawling into the bed, knocking into everyone’s knees and stomach. It’s a little Harry who’s three years old now. He curls under your neck and you will hold him with all the love that six lifetimes can offer and more. 

When you close your eyes, it is a comforting darkness that envelopes you.

(Somewhere in a castle beyond valleys and lakes, locked away in the dusty shelves of Dumbledore’s cupboards, sits a broken Time-Turner that finally stops ticking.)

a/n: i wrote the last 2k words like a woman posessed! LMAO. i have to be at training in 2 hours and i haven't prepared yet. tell me what you thought aaaaa!!!! and yes, your sixth life is your last life so u die happily and in peace mwah mwah. might continue this universe with drabbles, idk. if u spot any mistakes.. ignore it for a bit LMAO, i'll proofread this soon.

HIS HAIR

I wish I could marry James Potter

Appreciation post with every single Taylor Room I've done so far! 💛💜❤️🩵🩷🩶🤎💙🤍

The Taylor Swift Room and the Reputation Room won't be done until we have their Taylor's Version re-release (it would only be fair!).

He looks so good with his hair like this

Ewan Mitchell in THE TONIGHT SHOW

10th July 2024

I beg everyone on planet earth to read this series!! It’s actually insane 💕💕

Come Back, Be Here

Sirius Black x fem!reader - First Wizarding War Order of the Phoenix - 8k words

p1 // p2 // p3 // p4 // p5 // p6 // p7 // p8

CW: mentions of past abuse/torture, amnesia, healing/blood and injury (no one is injured during this story), mention of Bellatrix's cursed knife (same injury Hermione received, sorry), angst, hurt/comfort, use of Y/N

Synopsis: After sacrificing yourself to save your friend and Order partner James months before, you're found on the brink of death. How will Sirius react when he finally gets his love back, but you don't seem to recognize any of them? (concept inspired by Recognition by aeaean__bliss on ao3)

James hated this – he hated the paranoia, he hated worrying, he hated the idea that taking one step outside of the threshold may be the last time he ever sees his wife and son. He had taken ‘one last look’ at too many people in his life, and he was exhausted.

         But he was also trained for this.

Pads had been growing more and more paranoid as the war waged on – with all the loss, the targeted attacks of Order members and the growing speculation of a spy amongst them; he begged Lily and James to change Peter to the secret keeper. “I’ll be the Death Eaters first thought, Prongs - he’s the less obvious choice.” It had been months since James had seen Sirius so desperate and passionate, so he agreed. Peter’s schedule with the Ministry had been taking up a lot of his time, but he said that the next Order meeting they would do the trade.

Until then, Sirius made sure Lily and James had a contingency plan.

“If anything fuckey happens, you have to promise me you’ll leave, no questions asked. Okay?” Sirius begged. “Have a go-bag packed for you both and Harry at the ready. If you feel any weakening of the wards – you leave.”

So, something fuckey happened. Lily got herself and Harry dressed for the rain, their bags by the back door ready to make a run for it, and James stood at the front door with his invisibility cloak pulled over him and wand at the ready.

The wards had chimed – signifying someone was here – but they were still standing; this meant Sirius was fine. Wards wobbled all the time – sometimes muggles wandered too closely to them without realizing – but the concerning part was the snap of apparition they heard before the wards had alerted them.

“It could be Moony, or Wormtail.” Lily said, mostly trying to convince herself that everything was fine.

James smiled at his wife like this might be the last time he ever did so. “Very true. I’ll be back in a mo’, okay? If anything happens, you guys go. I’ll find you.” He said.

Lily gave him a watery smile.

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

James stepped out into the torrential downpour. Britain wasn’t always known for its reliable weather, but even James was baffled by the sudden late-October thunderstorm. As tempted as he was to cast a weather repelling charm around him, he didn’t want to give away his location by having water bouncing away from his invisible figure, so he allowed himself to get increasingly soaked as he squinted into the night, looking for any signs of who alerted their wards.

He made it to the front gate – where he could see the end of the wards and cast a quick revelio.

Nothing.

“Moony?” He whispered, knowing the lycanthrope would hear him over the heavy rain.

“Pete?” He asked a little louder after receiving no answer.

He waited for a few more moments, cast one more revelio, and moved to the back of the house when he picked up nothing.

Godric’s Hollow is a wizarding community as well, he reminded himself, maybe someone just unknowingly apparated too close to the property.

He cast another revelio in the backyard and his heart leapt into his throat when he saw movement in the woods. “Buggering fuck!” He whisper-shouted, but embarrassingly realized he was watching the figure of a cat running away into the forest.

“Well, that’s not what I heard apparating here, now is it?” He muttered under his breath. He was beginning to suspect they heard some ignorant witch or wizard who miscalculated their apparation as he finished surveying the backyard.

Suddenly, he spotted a figure; it appeared unmoving, and was in a heap on the ground directly outside the ward line. James looked around, casting another revelio – nothing. The only thing he’s found is the slumped figure at the ward line.

James was torn – does he check what it is? What if it’s a person? Should he see if they are okay? Should he go inside and tell Lily that it’s fine before he checks on the figure? Would they still be waiting outside when he came back out? Is this a trap?

His musings were interrupted as the figure started choking.

“Merlin, I’m going to die of a bleeding heart.” James muttered as he made his way to the figure. He cast one more revelio on his way to confirm no one else was around waiting to ambush him.

Against his better judgment - knowing Sirius would have him by the bollocks for this later - he stepped outside of the wards, grabbed the figure and hauled the body back over the ward line. At least now I only have to be worried about dying at the hands of this individual half dead wix.

The body was small – James would assume it was a student from Hogwarts if it weren’t for the fact that they clearly apparated here and all students would be in school. Their cloak appeared far too large for their body and was completely soaked through due to the rain.

The figure began coughing again, and James heard gurgling sounds.

He ripped the hood off the figure and gasped.

Pale – so sickly pale – bruised black and blue and currently coughing up blood was you. Vixen! The witch, friend, fellow animagus and therefore honorary Marauder and his personal mission partner whom James last saw dying in the rubble of your last stake-out location.

“Oh Merlin, OH MERLIN.” James shouted as he whipped off the invisibility cloak and threw it over his shoulder.

He turned his attention back to you as you continued to sputter. He carefully turned you onto your side so you could spit the blood out of your mouth, which caused you to throw up.

“Okay, alright, come on Vix. Let’s get you inside. You’re okay, come on.” James muttered, mostly as a mantra to himself. He felt the adrenaline rushing through his body and tried to ignore the ringing in his ears.

He lifted you up into his arms; one arm supporting your knees whilst the other supported your shoulders. You hung from his grasp like a corpse.

“Stay with me, Vix. Stay with me. You’re going to be okay.” He continued as he got to the door.

He kicked the back door with his foot before cursing and remembering their code. He paused; three quick kicks, one kick, two quick kicks. “Lily! It’s clear, open up!”

Lily set Harry in his playpen and was quick to unlock the door. “Thank Merlin, I - oh!” She quickly moved out of way to avoid being barreled over by her husband with a body in his arms. “What did you find?”

“Not what, Lil’s. Who.”

He ran to the guest bedroom on the first floor, gently laying you onto the bed.

“No...” Lily whispered from the door, her face falling so pale that her freckles stood out in stark contrast.

“Help me. Help her. She’s hurt, she’s-” he started, but he could hardly breathe.

James’ stuttering seemed to snap Lily out of it, and she began barking orders.

“Go get towels, as many as we can. Put a few throw blankets into the dryer for about twenty minutes to warm them up.” She said as she moved to the bed. James didn’t need to be told twice.

Lily set the soaking cloak that James had unceremoniously plopped onto the bed onto the chesterfield. She vanished the black turtleneck and black trousers from your body hoping you wouldn’t miss them terribly. Her breath was taken away, but she couldn’t stare in horror for long as you began coughing up more blood.

She noticed bleeding from your left side – you had what looked like a stab wound in your ribs, which had punctured your lung. Okay Lily, you know this.

Lily sometimes hated magic - it had caused so much pain in her life. She had been called slurs and faced prejudice, she was left without a relationship with her sister, she lost friends and many she considered family to this magical war, and her husband and family were currently facing death by the hands of an evil wizard. Right at this very moment, however, Lily thanked all the deities possible for her use of magic.

She quickly syphoned the fluids and blood quickly flooding your lung before casting a quick sawdering charm to it. Lily heard the telltale snap of your ribs back into place before she closed the wound. It wasn’t as pretty as what could have been done by a real Healer or even Madam Pomfrey, but it would do.

Lily cleared your mouth and throat of blood and conjured a glass of water, forcing some into your mouth before encouraging you to spit it back out.

Once you were no longer at risk of immediately dying, Lily took in the rest of your body.

Your collarbone appeared to protrude from its rightful place, and you had severe bruising around your neck. Lily corrected your collar bone with a flick of her wand which elicited a painful grunt from your lips. You seemed quite a bit thinner than the last time she had seen you, and wondered when your last good meal was. She levitated you gently off the bed and noted that the majority of the bruising appeared around your torso and back. You had a large, healed scar on your right thigh and a small puncture shaped scar on your lower left abdomen. But none of this made Lily feel nearly as sick as when she noticed the word mudblood carved into the skin of your left arm; the wound appeared brand new, as if it had just happened, but it was dry and not bleeding.

The bedroom door slammed open as James threw a pile of at least twenty towels onto the other side of the bed as your form. “I’ve got blankets in the drying machine thingy.” He muttered out of breath as he straightened his glasses.

“Merlin’s tits. What-” he started before Lily cut him off.

“Out, out. Give us some privacy, I’m going to run her a warm bath. Can you bring me some clothes for her?”

James jumped and took off out of the room again.

You had been coming in and out of consciousness as Lily gently washed your body. Every time your eyes met Lily’s green ones, Lily felt her breath leave her body. It’s like looking at a ghost. She wanted to throw up, she wanted to cry, she wanted to sing and dance, my friend, who we had a funeral for, was back from the dead. But she had a job to do, dammit she had a job to do. She’s not your friend right now Lily, she’s your patient. Help her. She needs a healer. You’re as good as one. Help your patient.

Neither of you spoke – Lily didn’t want to overwhelm you, and she also had no idea what to say. There’s so much I’ve wanted to tell you since you’ve been gone; now I have no words.

Lily helped you dry off and supported your weight as she walked you back into the bedroom. James had brought down a tracksuit of Lily’s, which was too big for you, but it was dry and warm, and it would have to do.

After you were dressed, Lily had you sit on the edge of the bed as she brushed and braided your hair.

“There you go, Y/N.” Lily said as she gently tapped your shoulder, cautious of any pain you may be feeling from your collarbone injury.

“You know my name.” you asked quietly, but it wasn’t a question.

Lily paled. Know your name? Try: know your entire life story up until about a year ago.

“I do.” Lily answered cautiously, moving to stand in front of her friend. “Do you know mine?”

Lily watched as your eyes scanned her face. “No,” she admitted. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” Lily said dumbly. “Well, that’s okay. Nothing to be sorry for. I’m Lily. We were friends, before.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and Lily instantly regretted saying anything. “Here, why don’t we get you into bed, hm?” She offered as a distraction to the both of you.

You grimaced as you shuffled to the head of the bed where Lily pulled the warm blankets James had left for you to climb under.

“I’ll go make a pot of tea and get you some pain potion, okay?”

You seemed to consider Lily for some time before finally nodding your head at her.

“I’ll be right back.”

Lily closed the door behind her and rushed to the kitchen. “James” She sobbed.

Her husband immediately stood from the kitchen table and enveloped her in his arms.

“What happened? Is she okay?” He asked into her hair.

“She doesn’t know who I am.” She muttered miserably.

James froze and pulled his wife away from him to look into her eyes. “She what?”

“She doesn’t recognize me, James. She asked how I knew her name.”

“Oh, Godric.” James muttered, falling back into the chair. “Do you think she’ll recognize me? Or anyone else?”

Lily sighed as she made her way into the kitchen and turned on the kettle. “I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s shock, or amnesia, or a brain injury, or if it’s just me. There are too many variables. I think we should probably wait before we tell the other’s she’s here – I don’t know how they’ll handle not being recognized.”

“Fuck” James whispered.

“Potter.” Lily deadpanned. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

The only response she got was a guilty look from James before the front door flew open.

“Where is she?” Sirius demanded, staring at his friends as if they had personally victimized him, Remus following closely behind, face white as if he’d seen a ghost.

“Would you quiet down.” Lily seethed as she threw up a hasty mufliato.

“I am not fucking around, Red. Where. Is. She.” He repeated angrily, shaking off James’ hand that had been placed on his shoulder.

“If you think I’m letting you anywhere near her when you’re like this, you are out of your sodding mind.” Lily seethed, walking over, and shoving her face into Sirius’. 

“Mate, please. Sit down, let us fill you in. The second we do; you can go see her.” James said, trying to appease his friend. Sirius’ chest heaved as his burning eyes met Remus’ glassy ones which were already on him; a silent question of “Are we going to comply or are we going to cause a scene?” passed between them. Sirius moved his eyes back to Lily; he knew Lily wasn’t messing around - she was the mother of the group; she always had been. And she had always been the absolute best of friends with you and Remus, which made her all the more protective over you two in particular. He knew he should trust her when it came to you, but after the last mission - the mission you never fucking returned from, he doubted he would ever trust anyone with you ever again.

Lily watched his face as he seemed to come to some sort of decision.

“You have exactly five minutes starting the second my arse hits that seat, and then I will see her. Got it?” He stated bluntly, before shoving past her and James and sitting at the kitchen table.

Lily and James shared a look before they joined him at the table, Remus sitting down last.

James and Lily just stared at each other; each silently begging the other to start. Sirius grew more and more agitated the longer no one said anything, his knee bouncing under the table. 4 minutes and 17 seconds before I break every door down in this fucking house to find her.

“So,” James started, “She’s here.”

Lily grimaced. “We heard the snap of apparition and then there was a wobble in the wards.” Sirius’ eyes widened.

“We were ready to run,” Lily input at Sirius’ face, “but since the wards were still up and unaffected, James went to investigate.”

“She was soaked to the bone and just lying there. Honestly, I...I thought there was just a dead body until she started to choke.” James admitted. “I got her inside and brought her to the room where Lily healed her.”

“And?” Remus asked quietly.

“And it’s not good.” Lily admitted.

“She’s alive.” James amended, giving Lily a pointed look as if saying do you know who you’re talking to right now?

“Right, erm,” Lily started, “She had a stab wound in her ribs which had punctured her lung – that’s what was causing her to choke. I emptied the lung of blood and fluids and closed it up, re-set the broken ribs and closed the wound – her collar bone was also dislocated. She’s badly bruised and beaten. She has a few healed scars...” she trailed off awkwardly.

“Merlin’s tits.” Sirius muttered into his hands which were covering his face. “Is that all?” He asked sarcastically.

“No, there are two more things, but I need you to stay quiet and calm and listen to me. Do not speak until I say so, okay?”

She gave Sirius a pointed look and the man begrudgingly nodded.

“It appears that someone carved the word mudblood into her left arm – the wound looked brand new, but it wasn’t bleeding or red, so I’m not sure why it looks the way it does. I’ll need an actual healer to look it over.” She sighed greatly before continuing. “And she doesn’t know who I am.”

The room fell painfully silent, all eyes on her.

“Someone carved...?” Remus finally began whispering before he was cut off by Sirius.

“What do you mean she doesn’t know who you are?” Sirius asked.

“I mean I’m a stranger to her Sirius.” She muttered miserably. “She asked me how I knew her name, and when I told her we were friends, she looked like she was going to cry.”

Sirius’ already alabaster skin appeared to grow a sickly paler shade as he looked incredulously at Lily.

He watched as James rubbed Lily’s shoulder. Beaten. Stabbed. Bruised. Tortured. Someone hurt her. Someone touched her – violated her. My girl.

But she’s here. He reminded himself.

“Okay.” He whispered.

The table grew quiet again, everyone turning their attention to the dark-haired man.

“Okay?” Lily asked between sniffles.

“Okay.” He repeated before making eye contact with her again. “She’s likely been through hell, I hardly expect much of her right now. Fuck, I hardly ever expected to get her back at all so, let’s just...” He stopped, looking down at the woodgrain on the table. “We’ll make sure she’s okay to start and then, maybe eventually, we can help her get her memories back or something.” He sucked in a deep breath. “I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

Lily gave him a sad smile as more tears fell.

“Okay Pads.” She said, reaching to take his hand. “Let’s go see our girl.”

“Y/N? It’s me,” Lily started as she leaned into the bedroom door. “Erm, Lily.” She clarified awkwardly. “I’ve got your tea and something to eat, may I come in?”

She waited for a few beats before she poked her head in. “You okay?” She asked gently. She spotted her friend sitting exactly where she had left you; propped up in the bed on a tower of pillows and wrapped in the numerous blankets that James had warmed up for you. Lily plastered on what she hoped was her most calming smile.

“When was the last time you’ve eaten?” She asked gently, moving into the room.

 “I’m not sure.” You admitted in a whisper, warily eying the grapes, cheese, and crackers Lily had prepared that sat beside the tea and vial of pain potion which Lily placed on the bed before you.

“I can get you something else if you’d like, but I figured it might be good to have a little something in your stomach on account of the pain potion.” She grimaced as she motioned toward the offending vial.

The sound of a throat clearing interrupted the women and brought your attention to the door where James and Sirius both stood, waiting for... well, Lily wasn’t sure.

You just stared blankly at the men. Your eyes seemed to dart between James and Sirius, questions flying behind your eyes.

“Mind if we join you?” James asked quietly, holding his hands open as if a universal way to say, see? Friendly. We mean you no harm.

You turned your gaze back to Lily who was silently encouraging you. Lily wore a soft smile, and her eyes were full of compassion and understanding.

“Sure.” You finally said, your voice thick. The boys let out a breath and moved into the room slowly. Lily stared at them both, hoping they got her silent plea: you are great big giant oafs; please be as un-intimidating as possible.

It wasn’t easy; Sirius with his thick, rock-star style black hair and covered in various tattoos which stood out in stark contrast against his alabaster skin. His combat boots which were never tied properly were not the stealthiest footwear, and his various pieces of silver jewelry littering his body added to the intimidating aura that was Sirius Black.

And big, bumbling James; built like the Quidditch chaser he is. He stood slightly taller than Sirius, and between his ADHD and constant need for movement, he was in perfect shape for a soldier. He could appear intimidating when he needed to be, and when he was actually angry: watch out. But those who knew him would laugh and laugh to know you ever feared him if you hadn’t a reason. He smiled warmly at you and sat on the floor near the fireplace.

Sirius sat behind Lily in a wingback chair that he turned to face the bed you were sat on. He monitored your face looking for any signs of recognition as you surveyed the newcomers. He tried not to feel disappointed when he didn’t see any. He failed anyways.

“Our friend’s showed up while the tea was on, we never could keep them away for long.” Lily offered when you still hadn’t said anything.

“Rem will be back later; he ran out to grab some things.” Sirius explained.

James, never being one for sublties asked “do you recognize either of us?” as if the question had been lodged behind his teeth since he first found you.

Lily and Sirius sucked in a breath as they turned to analyze you. Your gaze moved over the two men before looking down at your hands in your lap and shook your head.

“Well, that’s alright; we always liked making new friends.” James offered. “I’m James – I found you outside. And this here is Sirius.” He said, motioning to his friend.

Sirius heard you let out a shakey breath at the end of James' sentence, and Lily noticed tears springing into her friend’s eyes.

“What’s the matter, love?” Sirius asked her gently.

You shook your head miserably and looked between the two men again. Sirius thought he would throw up while Lily’s eyes widened in horror.

“No, no. Y/N, it’s alright, you’re safe, no one’s going to hurt you.” she clarified.

“We’re your friends,” James offered quietly, “we only wanted to know you were okay.”

You didn’t seem able to make eye contact with any of them anymore and stared at the tea tray set out in front of you.

“It’s chamomile,” Lily offered, “it was one of your favourites.”

Sirius and James exchanged a glance before the former slowly stood and made his way over to you; you didn’t look up at Sirius, but he noticed your body tense. Keeping his distance, he picked up the cup of tea and gave it a sniff before taking a sip, making a show of swishing it in his mouth before swallowing. 

“Hm, yep. Chamomile, two sugars and a splash of milk.” He said before he cast a quick revelio over the cup and pot. “And nothing else added.”

He placed the cup back onto the tray. “You can never be too careful these days, hm?” He offered you with a smile before returning to his seat.

You looked at Lily before you carefully picked up the tea with shaking hands. The warmth of the cup brought tears to your eyes as you held it tightly in your hands, enjoying the aroma before taking your own cautious sip.

Seemingly satisfied you weren’t being poisoned, you grimaced at the smell of the pain poition before downing it with nothing more than a cough. Sirius thought you were a much better sport about it than he was.

“Why don’t we light the fire, hm?” Lily asked, beginning to stand.

“I’ve got it.” Sirius mumbled, standing, and placing a few logs into the hearth before casting an incendio.

Sirius could feel your eyes following him; he knew because they burned into his skin like they always had before. He always had a sixth sense when it came to you. He missed this familiar feeling, even though it was currently painful; he never thought he’d feel the burn of your stare again.

“Thank you.” He heard whispered, and looked to see you looking at him from under your lashes as you brought the tea to your lips again.

“You’re very welcome.” He smiled at you.

“Do you know me?” You suddenly whispered. If it wasn’t for the fact that the only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire, the rest of the room’s occupants would have missed it completely.

“Yes.” James said with a soft smile.

“Were we...” you started, before clearing your throat and returning your gaze to your hands. “Were we friends? Before?” You finished, not returning your gaze.

“The best of.” James replied.

You seemed to think on this for a while before you looked up and met Sirius’ eyes.

“And you?” You queried.

Sirius was sure he just heard his heart break. He wondered how much he should tell you. She doesn’t remember me. She doesn’t remember the nights shared, or the fights had, or the days spent. How much does he tell you?

He recognized that everyone is looking at him now; you inquisitively, James appeared distraught, and Lily was looking at him with the saddest smile he’d ever seen. He had very little time to answer this question.

“You couldn’t shake me off, love. I followed you around everywhere.” He settled for, trying to smile at you but it felt more like a grimace.

You sighed and returned to fiddling with your teacup.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered. The two present marauders and Lily exchanged glances before turning back towards their friend.

“What for?” Lily asked gently, moving to place a hand on your shoulder. Nobody in the room missed the full body flinch that took place when you spotted a hand coming towards you, which caused Lily’s hand to retreat to her lap.

You sighed heavily again before continuing. “For not recognizing you all.”

“None of that now, gorgeous.” Sirius stated. “You’ve done nothing wrong. You’ll be just fine.”

“Where have you been all this time?” James asked, which was met with a low rumble from Sirius’ throat; a warning that no one in the room missed.

“Prongs, she’s been through hell. Leave her be for now.”

Your eyes flicked between the two men who seemed to be having a silent conversation with their eyes. You looked back to Lily who gave you a crooked smile and a shrug of her shoulders.

“Was your hair shorter when I knew you?” You asked. Sirius tore his eyes away from his best mate and looked into your warm gaze. You looked so inquisitive, and he instantly thought back to the nights that the two of you spent on the astronomy tower where he would point out every constellation and star you could see with your naked eye and tell you their stories; you’d always ask follow-up questions, which he loved because none of your other friends found astronomy to be at all interesting, and he could show off his wealth of knowledge on the topic.

Sirius subconsciously brought his hand up and ran his fingers through his hair. No, he thought, in fact, I’ve cut it quite a bit shorter since the last time I saw you. His hair had always been quite long, especially since he and you became friends back in 4th year. After you passed away - or, disappeared, Sirius supposed – he found it harder and harder to deal with especially when in battle, between needing it to be up elsewise it was in his face, or being easy to grab by enemies. He kept some length, but now the longest pieces came just below his chin.

“I don’t think so, darlin’. Must be thinking of someone else.” He tried to tease, but it came out pained.

Your eyes stayed on Sirius as you analysed him. “My mistake.” You whispered.

It grew incredibly awkward from there. No one knew what to say; you wouldn’t eat or make eye contact with anyone anymore and continued fiddling with your teacup.

“Well, why don’t we leave you to eat up, and you can rest some, hm?” Lily offered, looking around the room at the others. James immediately nodded his head in agreement, whilst you looked indifferent, and Sirius looked anything but pleased at the prospect of leaving the room you were currently situated in.

“Pads, why don’t you help me make something to eat for the rest of us, and we can come check back on Y/N a little later.” She offered.

Sirius kept his gaze on you; you seemed concerned, though he didn’t know what about – were you worried they’d stay? That they’d leave? Were you worried that they wouldn’t come back?

“Alright,” He offered Lily, “I’ll be back shortly, okay?” He added for your benefit. You looked up at that, appearing to analyze him as he moved to the door whilst keeping eye contact.

“Okay.” You whispered, and everyone shuffled out of the room.

“Fuck.” He breathed as the door clicked shut behind him.

The three friends moved back to the kitchen where Sirius did indeed help Lily make more sandwiches while James began to pace the kitchen behind them.

“Spit it out Prongs, we’ve not got all day.” He muttered, tired of his friend’s nervous ticks.

“Listen, mate,” James started awkwardly, “I just want you to be careful.”

Sirius looked at him incredulously. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, with Y/N.” He clarified, which for Sirius clarified absolutely nothing.

“What are you on about?”

“Okay.” James breathed. “Listen, I’m just worried - about all of us, okay? Vix included. I mean, she was as on deaths door the last I saw her and-”

“Yeah, and you fucking left her there.” Sirius spat quietly. James’s face pained considerably, the guilt and memories clear on his face. It wasn’t fair of Sirius, he knew that. You made that choice for the both of them; he saw James’ memory of that moment with his own eyes - hell, he was there when a distraught James dropped into the safe house via portkey without you.

“I know, I...” James started but was interrupted this time by Lily.

“Sirius, we both know how stubborn our girl is. Nothing would have changed that outcome.” She offered him quietly.

“I shouldn’t have interrupted James.” Sirius bit out, knowing he was out of line but not willing to apologize for his words.

“We believed her to be dead for months, and then all of a sudden, she quite literally drops out of the fucking sky and remembers nothing. I’m not saying she’s chosen a side or anything, but I cannot help but be worried. This feels like a trap.”

James’ words hung in the air, Sirius never breaking eye contact with him. Sirius’ stares could be intense which was extremely intimidating. While James was undoubtedly uncomfortable, he needed Sirius to understand his concerns. You were a potential threat whether you were aware of it or not, and you were currently living in his house alongside his family.

“So, what? You think she’s been turned a spy? That she’s been sent to destroy us from the inside out? After all this time?” Sirius asked incredulously.

“I don’t know what to think, Pads. All I’m saying is that I’m scared and for all our sakes, I need you to be careful.”

“You want her out.” Sirius spat.

“No.” Lily and James chorused.

“Sirius no, I want my best friend here, with me where I can help her.." Lily started. "That’s not what this is about. Maybe I’m being naïve, but I don’t think she’s a danger to us. I want her here, Sirius. I need her here.”

James looked at his wife, disagreement written all over his face, but it was joined with acceptance and understanding. You were his friend too; he spent summers and full moons and missions with you, and he wouldn’t trade any of it. Well, he’d leave the missions happily behind but hoped one day that you could spend the first two together again. But he had a war to win and a family to protect, and right now, that had to come first.

The three friends were interrupted by a silvery whisp of a phoenix travelling into the room. The Phoenix whistled three times, waited four seconds and let out one long whistle before adding five short whistles and then disappeared.

“Dumbledore wants a meeting.” James translated.

“I bet it’s all about how your ex-partner is a big fat spy, Prongs.” Sirius muttered.

“Enough.” Lily remarked. “None of this right now, let’s just get her through tonight.”

Lily sat a few sandwiches onto the table.

“I just wish we could get her to a healer; see what could be causing the amnesia.” She murmured miserably.

“What do you think it could be?” James prodded.

 “I’m not sure. Many things can cause amnesia - malevolence or injury, perhaps. If it’s due to a malevolent curse or she’s been obliviated or imperio’d or something, maybe we can reverse it. If it’s an injury... well I’m not sure. Brains are tricky but maybe it can be healed, or I don’t know...” She trailed off frustrated. In her mind, it was either that her friend had been being cursed, or she sustained a brain injury that may not be able to be fixed.

“Maybe it’s something else, Red. We’ll find a way to fix this.” Sirius offered quietly, reaching for her hand across the table which she met. She smiled at him for a few moments.

“She really is the better part of you, isn’t she?” James interrupted.

“How do you mean?” He asked, moving his eyes and soft smile to James who he regarded a little cooler.

“Being all reasonable and optimistic. You’re giving Haz a run for his money being the most optimistic in the family, and he’s ignorant to anything that doesn’t fit in his mouth.” James clarified.

“Classy Prongs,” Sirius muttered. “Jokes at the expense of your own sprog when he’s not even awake to defend himself.”

The three friends chuckled, allowing some of the tension to dissipate from the room. Sirius would let it go for now, but he was less than pleased with his friend’s accusation. But James just wanted to protect his family, and that included Sirius and you, whether Sirius understood that or not.

Sirius rapped at the door gently. “It’s just me, erm, Sirius.” The door opened a crack, and he poked his head in. “Mind if I join you?”

You shook your head which he took as an invitation. He closed the door gently behind himself before he returned to the wingback chair he had settled in earlier. He had his own cup of tea and half a sandwich on a plate.

“Lily’s going to bring us some more tea later, maybe with some sleeping draught. Do you think you’ll need help sleeping tonight?” He said.

“You’re asking my permission?” You asked, which caused Sirius to nearly choke on his tea.

He looked at you incredulously for a moment. “Of course, I am. It’s your choice”

You seemed to think about that for a moment.  “Perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad idea, to have an aid.” You admitted finally.

He considered this. “Very well, we’ll get that brewed for you.”

Sirius continued to watch you. You fiddled with the hem of the sweatshirt you were wearing, which he recognized to be one of Lily’s. Lily, the beautiful Amazonian woman she was, meant the outfit was far too big for your smaller frame, especially with how much you had seemed to hollow out since Sirius last saw you. That’s okay, he reminded himself, we’ll get her all fixed up. He made a mental note to try to find what clothes of yours he still had at his and Moony’s flat. He suddenly felt simultaneously embarrassed and grateful he kept most of your old things, only donating what you hadn’t used in the past year and a half before you went missing. Remus had suggested placing some of his and Sirus’ favourites of yours in what muggles called Ziploc baggies which basically cast a stasis charm on it to keep it fresh. It may sound weird, but for Padfoot and Moony, both of them understood how comforting someone’s scent could be, and he was willing to look ‘weird’ for the sake of keeping what little of you that he could. He’d go shopping as well, to replace what he had given away. Maybe even get you a whole new wardrobe - when you were feeling better, you could come with him, pick out your own things.

Thinking about you feeling better, he looked up at you and noticed how not better you were. Your eyebrows were furrowed as if you were in pain, your knee was bouncing underneath you, and you kept looking at the doors.

“What is it, love? What’s wrong?” He asked, pushing his plate and cup aside and rising to kneel in front of you.

You looked at him, startled at first, before tears welled up in your eyes.

He remembered your flinch at Lily’s hand, so once he was on his knees, he slowly raised his hands and motioned for yours all while maintaining eye contact. You looked between his hands and his eyes for a moment before you lifted your hands into his. He wondered if you could hear his heartbeat as it bounced around in his chest. Your skin still felt cold – though he remembered that you always seemed to run colder than he did.

“What’s wrong love?” He asked again.

You began to cry in earnest. “I...” you choked out.

“You can tell me, it’s alright.” He offered.

“I have to pee!” You whispered through a sob. “I’m sorry.” You added. Sirius scrunched his eyebrows at you. Had this been anyone else, he would have started to laugh. But you seemed thoroughly distraught right now; your knee was still bouncing, and you looked so pained.

“Okay, that’s okay. There’s nothing to be sorry for.” He offered. You made a disgruntled sound.

“Have you been waiting this whole time?” He asked. You cried some more and nodded.

“Oh love, okay. Come on.” He began to stand and used your hands that were still in his to pull you up. You stumbled a bit, but he steadied you.

You made your way to the bathroom, and he sat you on the toilet. “Do you, erm, are you okay to do...what you need to do, by yourself?” He asked awkwardly. You nodded quickly.

“Okay.” He smiled at you. “I’ll be just outside this door, okay?” He said as he backed out of the washroom. He closed the door, and he could hear you shuffling as you pulled down your trousers.

Merlin. She was nearly in a fit over asking to use the loo. Why would she wait to ask to go?

Sirius aggressively wiped his face, feeling tears burn his eyes. He heard the click of a door and moved his hands, expecting to see you but was surprised as Lily entered the bedroom.

“Hey. How’s she doing?” She asks as she peered around the room trying to spot her friend.

Sirius sighed. “She almost let her bladder burst waiting to be told she could use the loo.” He stated plainly.

“Oh Vix...” Lily tutted as she leaned against the back of the couch which faced the bathroom door. Sirius moved to join her.

“She’s open to a sleeping draught for tonight.” He offered. Lily just hummed.

“What are we doing to do, Pads?” She asked after some time.

“Be patient as hell, I guess.” He answered.

Lily chuckled and nudged Sirius with her shoulder. “Patience. A Sirius Black special.”

Lily watched as Sirius smirked and looked back at the bathroom door. Lily was right, of course; he was never very patient. He wasn’t the kind one of the group, he wasn’t always very understanding, and he surely wasn’t the patient one. He was loud, he was angry, he was crass, and he never slowed down, not for anyone. Except for her she remembered.

(Five summers ago)

The group of them had been getting ready to head to the Potter’s for a few weeks in the summer between 6th and 7th year; you had asked to be picked up last so that you didn’t hold everyone up. Sirius and James picked Lily up first, ever the timely one. They stopped at Remus’ next, who was mostly ready, but ran back inside four times as the others listed off things he may have forgotten. “Toothbrush?” Lily asked. “Fuck.” Remus muttered as he ran back inside the Lupin cottage. He emerged victorious with his toothbrush in hand.

“First thing we’re doing when we get to the manor is jumping in the lake. It’s too bloody hot today.” James muttered, which caused Remus to groan as he went back inside.

“Moooooonnyyyyyyy.” Sirius whined as his friend disappeared.

This happened two more times for his sandals a a pair of sunglasses which was met with a lot of whining from Sirius before they were ready to go.

Next stop was Peter’s house; they were met by Peter’s mother who showed them to his room which was nothing short of a disaster.

“Peter Pettigrew!” She shrilled at him from the door. “You are not to leave this room like this, do you hear me young man?!” She demanded as she started down the hallway.

“Great, now we have to wait for him to finish packing and clean his bloody room.” Sirius muttered as he kicked Peter’s school bag aside to sit on his desk chair.

“Wormy, you knew we were coming and what time. In fact, we’re late. How are you not ready?” Remus asked incredulously, trying to help Peter fold his clothes and put it in his bag as the kid continued running around his room throwing things on his bed which was deemed to be the ‘pack’ pile.

“’Cause he’s a wanker, that’s why.” Sirius muttered none-too-quietly from his moping spot in the desk chair which earned him a flick in the head from James.

“Now, now, Pads. We’ll make it home eventually.” He chuckled.

“Listen, I’m sweaty, I’ve been travelling around all of the UK picking up you knob heads and we still have one stop. I wanna gooooooooo.” He whined petulantly.

“Okay well you can whine all you want to Vixen since she’s our last stop then. Maybe she’ll feel bad for you.” Lily offered, zipping up Peter’s first of three bags he ended up leaving with.

Entirely too long later, they travelled to a spot close to your house and began the trek, the sun still high in the sky and accosting Sirius.

“Too bloody hot for this.” He muttered to himself as he knocked a little impolitely on your door. A few moments later, a frazzled looking you swung the door open and looked at your five friends.

“Oh God, here we go.” Lily muttered as she was sure Sirius’ whining was going to continue at the lack of a packed bag in your hand. She was completely astounded however when he rushed inside and shut the door behind him, leaving his four other friends outside. The said friends shared a bemused look before leaning their ears against the door.

“What’s the matter?” Sirius asked the girl gently. They heard a small sniffle.

“I’m sorry Siri. I’m not ready. I slept through my alarms and then I had to do laundry and the washing machine is giving me problems and my dad is away for work so I had to make sure everything was set up because the cats will be alone for the rest of the week and I’m not ready and I’m sorry.” You finished taking a long breath which sounded like it was close to becoming a sob.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. Not a problem at all love, come on. Let’s get you packed up. We’ve got time.” Sirius could be heard saying before your sets of footsteps moved further into the house.

“‘We’ve got time’ he says.” Peter muttered, mimicking his friend as he kicked a pebble.

“There’s always time for Vix, Wormy. You know this.” James said as he winked at Peter and slung his arm over Lily.

(Present)

Lily and Sirius heard water running and knew you were finished. They waited for a few moments but when you never exited the bathroom, they shared a quick glance.

Sirius moved up to the door and gently knocked. “You okay?” As he waited for a response, he made eye contact with Lily.

“Yeah.” You answered through the door.

“Are you done?”

You were silent for a moment before you answered, “yes.”

Lily and Sirius looked at each other again for a moment. “I’m gonna open the door then, alright?” He didn’t receive an answer, so opened the door slowly.

You were leaning your weight against the bathroom sink and had your arms wrapped around yourself protectively.

“Feel better?” Sirius asked gently, offering you his hand.

You looked from his hand to his eyes. “Yes. Thank you.” You said as gently took his hand. He placed your arm in his and helped you towards the bed on the other side of the room.

“No need to thank me, love.” He offered as he helped you up onto the bed. It seemed to be a little too high for you, and Sirius made a note to put a step stool here for you tomorrow.

“Y/N, the bathroom is there for you whenever. No one else will use it. If you ever need help, you can let me know, okay?” Lily offered.

“Anything,” Sirius added solemnly, lifting the duvet for you to climb in under. “You can ask for anything, okay?”

You fiddled with the duvet and quilt after it was set on top of your lap.

“Is there anything you can think of now that you want or need?” He asked, ducking his head to try to look into your eyes.

You searched his eyes, the silver gaze so familiar against his black hair.

Sirius was about to give up and look to Lily when you finally answered. “I don’t think so.”

He smiled gently at you. “That’s alright. I’ll think of lots of things for you.”

“I’m sure Pads already has a list compiled.” Lily snorted from the end of the bed.

“As a matter of fact, my dear Red, I do.” He smirked at her as he began tidying up the room.

“She’ll need some clothes...” Lily started.

“Already on it. And we’re gonna get a stool so she doesn’t have to haul herself up into that tall ass bed. We’ll get her the shampoo she likes; we can’t let those locks suffer.” He added with a wink in your direction.

Lily took the dishes Sirius had collected and brought them to the kitchen where she began the tea just as Remus came back in through the front door with a box in his hands.

“This is about two weeks of dreamless sleep if she needs one every night. I can get more if she needs it.” He said as he placed the box on the kitchen table.

“Thank you, Rem, I’m sure this will be a great help.” She smiled at her friend before kissing his cheek.

“How’s he holding up?” He asked. She knew he was worried about his roommate.

Sirius’ feelings for you have never been quiet nor simple. In fairness to her friend, he had always lived with his heart on his sleeve; his feelings written all over his face. His love for you had always been palpable. They thought they were going to lose him when they lost you, and in some ways, they did. They lost the slightly gentler side of Sirius, the side that would give pause when his friends needed it, who tried to see the good in everybody first. 

His better half was back, but not really. Sirius wasn’t usually able to live by halves and they wondered how this would play out while they waited for you to remember something, anything.

“He’s hanging in there. He’s been really strong for her.” She answered gently as the tea pot started to whistle. Remus hummed in acknowledgment.

“She always was the strong one for us, when it mattered most. Seems fitting he returns the favour.” He admitted.

The sleeping draught tea made, Lily re-entered the bedroom with Remus where they found Sirius setting up the couch with a pillow and some blankets.

“Having yourself a slumber party here, Pads?” Remus asked lightly.

“Yeah, I think I’ll stay here for tonight, keep our guest company. Try not to miss me too much, alright Moony?” He offered cajolingly, but Remus and Lily knew; he wouldn’t be leaving your side any time soon, not unless you asked him to.

Continue to part 2 here.

thnks fr th mmrs

Aemond Targaryen – House of the Dragon – 2.02–2.03 (insp) The Fallen Angel by Alexandre Cabanel produced in 1847

platonic moonwater, this

platonic moonwater, that

What if they’re fucking? Hm?? Never thought about that???

Try getting an imagination, kid