I don't know if any of you have met before. If you use WattPad and read fan fiction, we've probably met. I have decided to publish my works here by translating them primarily in English :)
I am very happy and excited to meet you already,
Xo.
-Cora
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Pairing: Taxi/Cab Driver!Bucky Barnes x Passenger!Female Reader
Summary: You’re Bucky’s favorite passenger. He knows your schedule by heart. The same day, time, and location. You’re kind. You talk to him like he’s more than just the man behind the wheel. You always tip well.
He can’t help but fall for you.
But he’s just a cab driver. You deserve better than that. Better than him. So, he keeps things professional… until you lean on him one fateful night when the world feels too heavy.
He doesn’t just want to drive you home anymore.
He wants to be someone you can come home to.
Word Count: Over 12.2k
Warnings: Pining, mutual pining, slow(ish) burn, a bit of idiots in love, hurt/comfort, angst with comfort, slight jealousy, flirting, emotional breakdown, crying, insecurities, sick family member, Bucky Barnes (his POV and he's a warning, okay?)
A/N: @tavners suggested Bucky as a cab driver ages ago and the Barbie Dreamhouse helped bring him to life. Huge thanks to @miraclediviner for putting it together and for being patient and letting me submit this late and @stantastic-association for letting me participate. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @mumbles411, but any and all mistakes are my own. Dividers by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
The city sky was still light as Bucky pulled onto your street, a smile touching his lips briefly. Every week for the last three months he picked you up to take you to your brother’s apartment. Same time, same day without fail. He knew the route by heart. Could do it in his sleep.
Thursday had become his favorite day of the week thanks to you.
His favorite passenger.
Someone bright and soft during his long shifts and rough nights.
He came to a stop in front of your building, making sure he adjusted the heat so you wouldn’t be too cold. There was a blanket in the back just in case it wasn’t enough. He also changed the radio station to something he knew you’d enjoy but kept it low enough in case you wanted to talk.
He liked it when you talked to him.
“Do I look okay?” he asked himself, checking his hair in the mirror before he chuckled.
Bucky didn’t dress up a lot since he drove a cab for a living, but he tried to take a bit of pride in his appearance. Clean clothes and a subtle amount of cologne. Beard and hair kept neat, too, even with the bit of gray showing more in his chestnut strands these days.
He liked to think it gave him a refined look.
Something you might notice.
The steady hum of the engine grounded him as he looked at the door, his breath catching when you stepped outside. You paused on the top step, your gaze sweeping along the street as you adjusted the bag on your shoulder. Something warm bloomed in his chest when you spotted him and gave him that familiar soft wave and smile. He wanted to believe that smile was reserved just for him.
Get it together. You’re just her driver. Nothing more.
It didn’t stop him from hoping.
He straightened up when you made your way to the car and opened the door.
“Happy Friday Eve, Buck,” you said, sliding into the backseat.
The corner of his lips twitched at the familiar greeting. Not “driver” or “sir” or anything like that. Just Buck. Steve was the only other person who called him that.
It sounded right coming from you.
“You mean Friday Junior,” he teased, trying hard not to make a show of breathing in your scent.
There were plenty of passengers who practically bathed themselves in colognes and perfumes. It was enough to choke on before he aired out the cab. But not you. You always smelled so nice. So sweet.
Jesus fucking Christ. Get a grip.
“Same thing,” you teased back, slipping your shoes off and tucking your legs beneath you.
The first time you asked if it was okay for you to take your shoes off, he almost laughed. It surprised him more than anything that you cared enough to ask. Like you cared about his space and him. He didn’t mind as long as you were comfortable.
He always wanted you to feel comfortable and safe in his presence.
“We made it through another day,” you sighed.
“And your prize for making it through another day is spending time with me,” he joked.
You laughed, a soft sound like music to his ears. “Lucky me,” you said without a hint of sarcasm.
He cleared his throat, his heart skipping a beat. “Blanket back there and the heat’s on.”
“Thanks,” you said, adding above a whisper, “You’re so good to me.”
Bucky opened his mouth and closed it. “Just doing my job,” he said, the words bittersweet on his tongue.
“Well, I appreciate it.” You hummed a little as you dug through your bag. “And… I got something for you.”
He already knew what it was.
“Protein bar?”
“Protein bar,” you confirmed.
He made an offhand comment in the beginning about his favorite brand.
You surprised him by giving one the following week, and you have brought him one every week since then.
Part of him wanted to save the wrappers, but Sam shut that down by saying it was serial killer behavior.
Your fingers brushed his when he reached back to grab, a jolt running through his body and settling deep in his chest. “I think you’re too good to me,” he said.
It was a thoughtful thing for you to do.
“Just being a good passenger,” you said casually, but he caught the hint of affection there.
Something soft… and real.
Bucky glanced at you in the mirror, his gaze lingering longer than it should’ve when you covered yourself with the blanket and settled into the leather with a sigh. His chest puffed out a little, a sense of pride filling him since you used the blanket. He picked the softest and warmest one he had.
You looked completely at ease, like you belonged there.
“Heading to your brother’s place, or you gonna switch it up on me?”
“Same trip as always,” you replied.
Of course.
A visit to your older brother’s place on the other side of the city. Dinner. Helping your sister-in-law with some chores. Spending quality time with your niece and nephew.
Every Thursday.
He knew about your routine more than he probably should, but he couldn’t help but pay attention. It was nice knowing that you had family close by. Nice that you got to spend time with them.
Some nights though, you looked a little worn down by the time he brought you home.
He carefully pulled away from the curb and glanced in the mirror again, catching your eye. “How was your day?”
Bucky was polite to his passengers, but didn’t typically initiate small talk. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about the people he transported. He did. But his job was to get people where they needed to go, not force them into conversations to fill the silence. If he sensed that they wanted to talk, he’d engage. Most were glued to their phones anyway. But not you.
Never you.
You groaned, your head falling back against the seat. “Work was a pain today. Short-staffed. Didn’t really get a full break. You know how that goes.”
He hummed sympathetically. “Sorry you had to deal with that.”
“Don’t be. Not your fault,” you said with a small shrug. “On the plus side, we’re close to the weekend, and I can relax once I get home.”
“Glad you can still see the bright side,” he said.
It wasn’t always easy to do that.
“I try.” You lifted your head with a soft smile. “How are you?”
He swallowed hard. It was nice to have someone outside of his normal circle ask him sincerely how he was doing. “Not too bad. Some guy tried to correct my driving.”
You sat up straighter. “Are you kidding me? You’re the best driver in the city.”
Warmth bloomed in his chest from how fiercely you defended him. You stated it like it was a fact. He wasn’t one to brag, but he was an excellent driver.
“I want his name,” you added, narrowing your eyes. “I’ll handle him.”
He laughed. “Oh, you’ll handle him, huh?” he asked, turning his blinker on.
“Oh, yeah,” you answered, his heart racing faster.
“I appreciate that,” he said above a whisper.
You really were something.
“And if I can’t, Alpine can scratch him up for me,” you mused lightly.
A wide smile broke out on his face. “Al’d make sure he never messed with anyone ever again.”
Alpine, his beautiful white cat. He found her in an alley when she was just a kitten, trying to stay warm on a chilly day. One look in her blue eyes and he knew he couldn’t leave her there.
“My place isn’t much,” he warned her when he crouched down. “But it’s warm and I have milk.”
She curled right in his arms and tried to burrow her face in his leather jacket.
She became his partner-in-crime from that day forward.
The feline flourished in his apartment, making herself right at home and sticking by his side whenever he was around. He admittedly spoiled her with toys and such, but she deserved it. She was also protective of him, quick to hiss at anyone who got too close, and could imitate his grumpy stare well. He knew she’d adore you.
He certainly talked about you enough to her.
He talked about you with his younger sister, too.
“Becca messaged me a bit ago, too,” he said, smiling a little. “You know how she likes to check in and make sure I’m not living off just protein bars and stubbornness.”
Becca didn’t live as close as your brother did, but he visited when he could. She visited, too, between work and her new boyfriend. She seemed happy, and that made him happy.
“And here I am giving you protein bars. I hope she doesn’t mind.”
“Not at all,” he promised. “She knows one extra bar a week won’t hurt.”
You smiled softly. “She cares a lot about you, doesn’t she?”
“Yeah,” he said warmly. “She does.”
And she liked that he had someone like you who cared, even when he tried to argue that you were just being nice.
“She isn’t just being nice, big brother. She cares.”
He liked to think so.
“Hey!” you said suddenly, leaning forward in your seat. “You know what I just realized?”
“What?”
“This is the thirteenth Thursday that you’ve driven me around.”
“Is that right?” he asked softly, knowing full well exactly how many Thursdays he had seen you.
Because he had been counting.
“That is right.” You settled back into your seat with a smile. “Feels like ages… and not long at all.”
It seemed like only yesterday to him.
He remembered the exact shade of blue you wore on the first ride, something pleasant against the harsh city lights. How you shivered when you slid into the car, and the smile you gave him when he turned the heat on. You were so beautiful. And kind.
The kindest passenger he had that day.
“Thanks for getting me here safely, Bucky! Happy Friday Eve!”
“Friday Junior,” he’d called after you like an idiot.
“Same thing!”
He was a goner.
Every week his crush grew stronger.
But every week he told himself he was just your cab driver and nothing more.
“Thirteen Thursdays,” he said. “That why you look so nice today?”
Your gaze flickered to your lap, smiling. “You think I look nice?” you asked gently.
His heart hammered in his chest. “Yeah. You always do,” he said honestly, willing himself to concentrate on the road.
Don’t make it weird. Don’t make her uncomfortable.
“Thanks, Buck,” you whispered.
He should’ve left it at that, but he didn’t.
“You sure I’m taking you to your brother’s and not some date?” he blurted out.
The air thickened in the cab, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. Something uncomfortable twisted in his gut. He paid enough attention to know that there wasn’t a ring on your finger, and you hadn’t mentioned having a boyfriend.
Not once.
But what if there was someone? What if one day you dressed up for someone else? What if you gave some other man that soft smile you always gave him?
His jaw clenched and he was thankful you couldn’t see his expression.
I have no reason to be jealous. She isn’t my girl. She can see whoever she wants.
I just wish it was me.
“A date?” Your laughter made its way to his ears. “Please. I’m very single.”
For a moment, all Bucky could hear was the sound of his heart slowing to a steady rhythm, effectively blocking out the moving vehicles around him. His next breath was easier, his grip loosening. It shouldn’t have been such a relief to hear that, but it was.
Single. Good. That’s good. Stay single. Stay away from bad guys. Stay… here. With me.
…I’m in deep.
“Haven’t dated in months,” you added.
That made him pause.
“Months?” he repeated. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Well, it’s true,” you said, quieter than before and gazing out the window. “Guess I haven’t caught anyone’s eye.”
Your words wiped out his relief. You didn’t have to say out loud that you were lonely. He sensed it. Recognized it.
It just didn’t make sense to him that you were alone. You were a catch. How were guys not lining up down the block to ask you out?
Your words also weren’t true. Because he was there and he saw you. Wanted you.
“Or… maybe you have,” he said carefully. “And they just haven’t said anything yet.”
A beat passed. “Maybe,” you said.
He tapped the wheel when he stopped at a red light.
Say it. Tell her. Tell her that she caught my eye. Tell her that she’s…
He sighed to himself, the cab feeling smaller than usual. He wanted to admit how he felt, but he couldn’t like this. It wasn’t right when he was in the driver’s seat and you were back there.
“And what about you?” you asked, turning away from the window. “You seeing anyone?”
He huffed out a laugh. “No.”
Women weren’t exactly fighting to date a cab driver.
“My ‘date’ nights are me, a book or a movie, and Al,” he told you. “That or kicking the guys out of my place once the pizza and beer are gone.”
You smiled. “Those sound like good nights to me.”
“They’re not bad,” he said casually.
As if the idea of a date night with you wasn’t painting a picture in his mind.
“You know,” you said, snuggling into the blanket more. “If you ever need anyone to critique your book or movie choices, I’m available.”
He didn’t think it was possible for his heart to trip over itself, but it did. “Yeah?” he asked, keeping his voice even.
“Yeah,” you said casually, but your eyes flicked to the mirror. “I mean, I’m sure you have great taste, but it doesn’t hurt to get my own confirmation.”
Bucky swallowed hard. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
You smiled. “You better.”
The cab fell into a comfortable silence after that, but something shifted. You had given him an opening that would’ve been easy to take. But maybe you were just being nice. Maybe it didn’t mean anything at all.
Or it might mean everything.
He eased the car to a stop at your brother’s building minutes later. “Here we are.”
You slipped your shoes on and folded the blanket as best as you could. “Thanks,” you said, holding out the cash for him.
He reached back automatically to grab it, feeling that spark again when your fingers touched. He didn’t need to count it to know it was all there, along with a nice tip. You were generous.
Always.
“Anytime.”
You lingered when you opened the door. “Hey, Buck?”
“Yeah?”
“You look nice today, too,” you said.
It was a simple compliment, but it hit him square in the chest.
“Yeah?” he managed to ask.
“Yeah,” you said, smiling softly. “You always do.”
It was an echo of his own words to you.
Before he could respond, you slipped out and tapped the roof twice. “See you later. Drive safe.”
“See ya,” he whispered.
He didn’t leave right away. He watched as you made your way inside safely, his hand still clutching the cash. Glancing at the protein bar on the seat beside him, he exhaled.
You said he looked nice. Offered to watch a movie with him. Kind of.
But he was just your driver.
Nothing more.
“I’m in trouble,” he muttered.
By the time Bucky pulled back up to your brother’s building later that night, things felt quieter. But his mind didn’t. It was too busy racing with thoughts of you and wondering how long he could keep his line drawn in the sand.
You waved to him when you stepped outside, your steps a little slower. Your smile wasn’t as bright as earlier, but it was still soft and easy. It made sense. Family time after a long work day was tiring, even if it was nice.
“Hey,” he said once you got in.
“Hey,” you echoed, settling in.
“Good night?” he asked, easing back into the road.
“It was,” you replied, laughing a little. “But those kids wear me out.”
He smiled to himself. No way they didn’t adore spending time with you. “Sounds about right.”
“Did you have a good night?”
It was the best night because he got to see you again.
“Not too bad,” he answered.
You checked something on your phone and put it away. “Random, but I have a few extra dollars in my account, so I may do takeout for dinner tomorrow as an end of the week treat for myself.”
You could have takeout with me.
“Get those noodles from the place you like on 5th,” he suggested instead. “The number seven, right?”
Why did I say that?
“That’s right.” You giggled. “Am I that predictable?”
He almost said, “I notice everything about you.”
“You’re not predictable,” he replied instead, easing his foot off the gas. “I just… pay attention.”
Because you’re… you.
It was quiet for the rest of the ride.
He glanced back a few times and saw that your eyes were heavy. He hoped you were able to relax more when you got back to your place. You deserved the rest.
A pang of disappointment hit him when he got to your place, the drive seeming quicker than normal. “Here we are.”
You stifled a yawn. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
“Oh. I almost forgot.” You sat up, seemingly more awake now. “I have something for you.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You already gave me a protein bar.”
“Well, this isn’t from me,” you said, handing him a folded piece of construction paper along with the cash. “It’s from my niece and nephew.”
He opened it carefully, his heart melting on the spot.
A drawing of a car stretched across the sheet. It was lopsided with uneven wheels and windows that were too big. There were two stick figures inside. One in the back with a large smile that was clearly you. And one in the front with brown hair, blue eyes, and a small smile.
It was him.
There was a message in crooked letters above the car, surrounded by glitter glue.
BUCKY DRIVING AUNTIE! YAY!
His throat tightened unexpectedly. “That’s us?” he asked with a hint of disbelief.
You mentioned him to your family?
“That’s us,” you said affectionately, making him wonder if that was for him or your niece and nephew. “They wanted to thank you for always getting me there and back every week.”
He swallowed, his throat dry. “You… talk about me?”
“Of course, I do,” you said like it was obvious. “You’re part of my week.”
He folded it back up like it was something fragile, your words slowly sinking in.
You talked about him. Your family knew he existed. Your niece and nephew had never met him, but still made him a card like he mattered.
His heart felt full.
And he didn’t know what to do with that feeling.
“Tell ‘em I said thanks,” he said quietly. “Really.”
“I will,” you promised, hesitating when you reached for the door handle.
You waited long enough for him to look at you over his shoulder. Long enough that his heart thudded. Hope flickered deep within.
She feels something, right? It can’t just be me.
Your fingers tightened around the strap of your bag, but your eyes were soft. “I…” Your gaze flickered down before looking back at him, sighing a little. “I’ll see you next week, Buck.”
He exhaled, trying not to let disappointment show. Something passed between you. He felt it. It was real.
Or… maybe he just imagined it.
“Yeah,” he said, offering you a small smile. “Next week.”
“Good night.”
“Good night,” he repeated. “And thanks again for the card and tip.”
You smiled softly before you got out.
He leaned against his seat and once again stayed to make sure you got inside safely. You didn’t rush inside when you got to the door. You paused instead and glanced over your shoulder at the door, like you were waiting for him. It was an opening. Maybe.
But he didn’t take it.
He kept that line drawn.
You waved before you went inside, and he closed his eyes, the quiet surrounding him once again.
His fingers brushed the construction paper in his lap.
Steve and Sam would flip when he told them about it. Hell, they already did whenever he talked about you. He could practically hear them now once he gave them the recap of tonight’s events.
Sam shaking his head and saying, “She gives you protein bars, offers to watch movies with you, her family knows about you, her niece and nephew made you a card, and you didn’t ask for her number?”
Steve, a little quieter but no less insistent, with, “Buck… you’re allowed to want something.”
Bucky’s jaw clenched. They acted like it was simple, like he could just ask and it wouldn’t change a thing. It would change everything.
He didn’t want to risk losing you or holding you back when he didn’t have you to begin with.
For now, he’d continue driving you where you needed to go and leave it at that.
Coward. Life’s too short.
He set the card aside and took one last look at your building.
“Yeah,” he sighed. “I’m in big trouble.”
Bucky arrived a couple of minutes early the following Thursday.
He told himself it was habit. Being mindful of traffic. Not because he was eagerly waiting for you.
Not at all.
And you also weren’t the reason he spent ten extra minutes picking out a shirt.
Just because she said I look nice…
He made a mistake of checking the group chat he had with Steve and Sam while he waited.
Sam: “Be a man and get her number.”
He gritted his teeth, quickly typing. He almost regretted confiding in them about you. It would’ve been easier to keep his mouth shut.
“Fuck off, Samuel. I am a man.”
The dots appeared with both of his friends writing something back.
Sam: “OOH. Samuel. My full name. Hit a sore spot, huh?”
Maybe he did.
Stevie: “Just go at your pace, jerk. We got your back.”
Some of the tension left his shoulders.
“Thanks, punk.”
He put his phone away and smiled just a little. They were good guys. Had been with him through thick and thin. Brothers.
Sam definitely acted like an annoying brother in the most supportive way.
And as much as he adored Becca, he didn’t want to bother his little sister with his lack-of-relationship woes. She had enough on her plate. He’d be just fine.
Eventually.
His attention snapped in your direction when you left your building and everything else faded away.
There you were again.
The same familiar sweep of your eyes along the street before you found him. The soft smile. The small wave. How you always looked incredible no matter if you dressed up or down.
Like tonight, you had on the same soft sweater you wore last month. It reminded him of comfort. It also made you look gentle in a way that made him want to take care of you.
The instinct hit him harder than before.
Yeah. I’m royally fucked.
He straightened up as you walked closer, his brows furrowing. You were still smiling at him, but your steps didn’t look as light as normal. There was tension in your shoulders.
“Happy Friday Eve, Buck,” you said, unfolding the blanket with extra care.
There was a touch of weariness in your tone under the warmth.
It would’ve been easy to miss if he wasn’t paying attention.
“You mean Friday Junior,” he said automatically.
“Same thing,” you murmured.
“Your brother’s place?” he asked gently.
“Same trip as always,” you replied just as gently.
He looked at you in the mirror after pulling away from the curb. You were already gazing out the window, relaxed but not completely. His chest tightened when he spotted the slightest frown on your face.
It didn’t belong there.
Is she okay? Was work extra rough?
He waited a couple of blocks before he asked, “Long day?”
Bucky didn’t want to push if you didn’t want to talk, but he did want to make sure you were okay. If something upset you, he wanted to fix it. If someone upset you, he wanted to handle it.
Let me help however I can.
“Yeah,” you replied after a second. “Long week, actually.”
“Those are the worst.” He tapped a finger on the wheel. “Becca always tells me to take a breath and not let the week eat me alive.”
“That’s good advice.” Something soft and a little sad flickered in your eyes. He didn’t know if his words triggered a memory, but it felt important. “Especially coming from a sibling.”
“It is,” he replied. “Siblings just get it some days.”
You hummed in agreement, but didn’t say anything else.
He bit his tongue. It was times like this when he wished he wasn’t driving. He wanted to turn around and give you his attention. You deserved it.
“Would it make you feel any better if I said you look nice today?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound as desperate as he felt.
That brought a smile to your face. “It does make me feel better,” you said, your tone almost back to normal. “Thank you.”
He smiled back gently, the sound of the engine and low music filling the space for a moment. It didn’t fix your long week, but he was glad the compliment helped. He’d consider that a win.
“You look nice, too.” You craned your head to look at him. “I really like that color on you.”
His pulse jumped. The usual ease was coming back, the cab lighter. And you noticed his shirt.
I chose well.
“Oh, this old thing?” he teased, like it wasn’t a big deal. “Really brings out my eyes.”
You giggled. “It sure does.”
He stole another glance at you when you looked out the window again. You were tired, but you were okay. Still warm. Still you.
He felt like he could breathe again.
“Hey,” he said after another block, reaching into the console. “I, uh… made you a list.”
“A list?” Your eyebrows went up. “What kind of list?”
“Movies. Some I like. Some I think you’d like,” he clarified, passing it back to you before he could change his mind. “You did offer to critique them.”
“And you’re taking me up on it?” You gasped, putting a hand to your chest. “I’m both shocked and flattered.”
“You should be,” he deadpanned before grinning.
You smiled, a little tired but genuine. “The first title has a star next to it.”
“Because it’s my favorite and a good one to start with.”
“Did you get Steve and Sam’s seal of approval?”
He scoffed. “They’d like it. Enough oldies for Steve, and Sam has somewhat decent taste in recent stuff… but he’ll never know I said that.” He coughed into his hand and added, “They’ve heard about you.”
You smiled. “Is that right?”
“Yeah, I talk about more than I probably should.” He shrugged, but his left foot lightly tapped. “You’re a good passenger.”
And I’m just your driver.
Your smile faltered, just for a second, before you smoothed it over with a laugh. “And you’re a good driver.” You scanned the small piece of paper once more. “You put a lot of thought into this, didn’t you?”
Warmth rushed to his cheeks. “You should see the book list I’m making for you,” he muttered.
He valued your opinion, and the lists were a way for you to think of him between rides. A way to keep you two connected. Maybe it was selfish that he wanted you to have him on your mind.
But maybe it wasn’t.
“You’re making me a book list, too? Oh, I can’t wait for that.” You folded it neatly and put it in your bag. “I’ll watch the first movie tomorrow night.”
Another Friday night with no date? I wish I could man up and change that.
“I expect a full report next week,” he teased.
“You got it, Sarge,” you teased back.
His breath caught. “Sarge?” he repeated. “You remember my military ranking?”
Sergeant Barnes.
It was mentioned only once, just like the protein bars. A passing comment and nothing more. But you listened.
You remembered.
“Of course, I do.”
The same thing you said about mentioning him to your family.
He blinked rapidly, trying to steady the emotions stirring inside him as he drove. You continued to surprise him with your soft words and smiles, making him feel special in your eyes. You undid him in ways nothing or no one else could.
“Here we are,” he said minutes later.
“Thanks, Buck.” You gathered your things before you stopped, your inhale sharp. “Oh… you kept it.”
He followed your gaze to the dashboard. Your niece and nephew’s card was proudly on display. It was a beautiful reminder of you.
“Of course, I did,” he said, trying to play it cool. “It’s a nice drawing.”
“That’s really sweet, Buck.”
He shrugged a little, but heat crept up his neck. “It deserved a front and center spot.”
Your gaze softened more. “They’ll think you’re the coolest guy ever when I tell them.”
They made him feel cool by giving him the card.
“Guess I’ll have to try to live up to that.”
“You already are,” you said without missing a beat, passing him a protein bar with the cash.
His heart pounded in his chest. Another thoughtful gesture. More words that made him feel good.
Say something. Do something.
But he didn’t.
There was a small pause before you sighed and got out, the door gently closing behind you. Tap. Tap. The familiar rhythm against the roof should’ve felt normal and comforting.
But why did it feel like you were disappointed?
“See you later,” you said. “Drive safe.”
“See ya,” he exhaled.
He watched until you went inside, half tempted to hit the dashboard since he chickened out. He held himself back. There was no sense in taking his frustration out on the car. He could hit a punching bag later.
Maybe he could knock some sense into himself, too, and man up.
“Should’ve said something,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.
Some of the frustration at himself faded when he looked at the card. He imagined your niece and nephew were the kind of kids who loved when the garbage men came by every week or drivers dropped off packages. They’d probably have a blast riding around in his cab, cheering him on for driving you around. If Becca ever had kids, they’d likely be the same way.
He wondered, briefly, if you’d ever meet her, and the thought didn’t scare him the way it should.
But what would your brother think of me? Would he think I’m good enough?
At the end of the day, didn’t it matter only what you thought and saw in him?
His phone buzzed.
Sam: “Well??? We’re waiting.”
Bucky stared at the message before typing back. “Dropped her off. Didn’t ask.”
Three dots appeared immediately. He didn’t want to look. Didn’t need the additional salt on the open wound of his self-doubt.
But he looked since he was a glutton for punishment.
Sam: “Man, if we can even call you that, you're killing me! I’m gonna lose the bet.”
Bet? What fucking bet?
Stevie: “There’s no bet. You’ll do it when it’s right.”
Sam: “Don’t make me get Becca and Sarah involved. I’ll do it.”
He tucked his phone away and shook his head. Tough and gentle love. He needed both.
And he needed just a little more time to convince himself to erase the line he had drawn.
The next passenger he picked up, a man complaining about the state of the economy, didn’t shift his focus fully away from you. The restaurant he dropped him at seemed like a nice one to take you to, something quiet and romantic. A couple of women he drove after that mentioned an acoustic concert in the park, which made him picture you leaning your head on his shoulder while listening to music together. Every passenger was like that, managing to tie something back to you.
He still got everyone where they needed to go safely since that was the job.
He just couldn’t stop thinking about you.
By the time he arrived to pick you up again, the city lights had taken over the streets. He spotted you immediately, your arms wrapped around yourself to keep warm. You looked about the same as when you went in. A little more tired, but okay.
And you still gave him a smile when you got in.
Smiling like she’s happy to see me.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” he replied, double checking the heat. “Kids wear you out again?”
“You know it. They had so much energy tonight, and I almost stepped on a lego when I was chasing them around.”
“Occupational hazard of being a great aunt.”
“You know it.” You laughed a little. “They were also thrilled that you have their card up.”
That warmed his heart. “So, they think I’m cool?”
“The coolest.”
He smiled at the sincerity. He believed that they believed that. It was a feeling he needed to lean into more.
“Did you have a good night?”
“Yep. Just driving. Getting everyone where they need to go,” he answered.
And thinking of you. Always thinking about you.
He turned the radio up a notch after that instead of trying to fill the silence, letting you relax. For a moment, he pictured swaying with you. Minus the quick brush of your fingers, he hadn’t touched you in any way.
To hold you would be a gift.
“Hey, Buck?” you asked once he pulled up to your place.
“Yeah?”
You bit your lip. “I wanted to give you something.”
“Yeah?” he asked, his chest tightening in anticipation as you reached into your bag.
You hesitated before you nodded. “Yeah.”
Your hand shook a little when you passed him a small slip of paper with the cash. He unfolded it, blinking hard to make sure he was reading it correctly. He turned it over, too.
It was your handwriting. Your name. Your number.
You gave him your phone number.
His heart forgot how to beat before it thundered. He imagined this scenario for weeks, but he hadn’t prepared himself for the reality of it. He didn’t think the universe would be that kind to him.
“I just figured, this way you don’t have to wait until next week for my report on the movie. You could just text me and see what I think,” you explained, trying to play it off casually. “Or if you ever want to send me pictures of Alpine. Or you’re just… bored.”
His pulse roared in his ears. You wanted to hear from him. You gave him another opening while he kept mentally blocking the door with his foot.
You trusted him enough to want a connection outside of the cab and the rules he internally created and enforced.
“But you don’t have to,” you added quickly, reaching for the door handle. “I can wait until next week to talk to you and-”
“Wait,” he begged, trying not to panic. The last thing he wanted was for you to think he didn’t want to reach out. “I’ll, um… give you mine, too.”
You met his gaze in the mirror. He wanted to memorize how you looked at this moment. Hopeful. Beautiful.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he whispered.
He found a pen and a receipt, making sure his writing was legible as he jotted it down. Your smile when he handed it over soothed his nerves. The smooth thing to do would’ve been to put his phone number on the movie list when he gave it to you earlier. But this was better.
This felt more right.
“Thanks.” You tucked it away like it was something sacred. “I’ll text you.”
He nodded, his throat tight. “I’d like that.”
You stepped out into the cool air, glancing back at him. The tension was almost completely gone from your shoulders. The glow from the street lamps made your eyes sparkle.
He couldn’t look away from you if he tried.
“Good night, Buck.”
“Good night.”
Once you were inside, he glanced at your number again, reading it until the numbers ran together. He reached for the phone to message the guys and Becca before deciding against it. Sam would lose his mind. Steve would tell him not to overthink it. Becca would be somewhere in the middle. He didn’t need that tonight.
He wanted to hang onto this just a little longer and let it sink in that it was real.
Besides, it was just an exchange of phone numbers. You didn’t ask him out. He didn’t ask you out. He was still being professional.
But he did check his phone immediately when a new message popped up.
“Happy fourteenth Thursday. Thanks again for the ride.”
Still counting like me.
“Anytime. Get some rest. And let me know when you watch the first movie.”
A neutral message. Polite. Professional.
“I’m still in trouble.”
And he grinned like an idiot because of it.
You messaged him on Friday night.
He saved you under his contacts as MFP, my favorite passenger.
MFP: “Halfway through the movie.”
His fingers hovered over the screen. If he typed back too quickly, he’d look desperate. If he waited too long, he’d look aloof.
A full minute was enough time.
“And?”
He winced at himself. That was too short. Too blunt.
MFP: “They switched part of what happened in the book. Trying to reserve my judgement until the end.”
A sense of awe filled him. You read the book. Of course, you did. That made him want you even more.
But he couldn’t say that.
“I didn’t like the switch at first either, but keep watching. Trust me.”
MFP: “I trust you.”
That made his breath catch.
He scratched behind Alpine’s ear, smiling when she purred. “She’s watching it and texting me. That’s good, right?”
She meowed happily.
He put the movie on, too, in the hopes that he wouldn’t keep checking his phone.
You messaged him again an hour later.
MFP: “My score: 8/10. Adventurous, heartwarming, and visually stunning. I see why it’s your favorite.”
He smiled, typing out, “Dinner and tell me more?”
He deleted it and started over.
“8/10? I’ll take it. What didn’t you like besides the book switch?”
MFP: “A one point deduction was for the book switch. Another deduction for the bad wig. I mean, a huge budget like that and they couldn’t give the lead some good hair? Tragic.”
Bucky chuckled. “You make a good point. It was pretty bad.”
MFP: “But movie wise? So far, so good for your taste.”
That was a win in his book.
You didn’t message him again until Saturday night.
MFP: “Is brinner an acceptable choice on a Saturday night?”
He smiled immediately.
“Brinner is an acceptable choice every night.”
MFP: “I knew you’d understand. I can eat while I watch the second movie on the list.”
“I bet you’ll give it a 7/10.”
MFP: “We’ll see if you’re right. Hope you're having a good weekend.”
He reread that statement twice. It felt measured. Careful.
“You, too.”
He read the message again after sending it.
Maybe it was another message that was too short.
And it was too late to erase it.
You sent him a photo of a white cat on Sunday.
MFP: “Is this Alpine’s doppelganger?”
He chuckled. The image wasn’t too far off but Alpine was prettier. He was a bit biased when it came to his feline.
“There’s no cat like Al.”
MFP: “I believe it. And you were right, but the way. 7/10. I deducted two points for the one terrible accent.”
He tilted his head and laughed again. He had almost forgotten about the bad accent. It was amazing how one actor or actress could throw off an entire scene.
“Much deserved deduction. Al would approve.”
MFP: “I’m honored.”
He didn’t hear from you for the rest of the day.
It was his turn to message you first.
“Hope you have water and caffeine to get you through Monday.”
He stared at it after sending. Maybe that too personal. Maybe it wasn’t enough.
MFP: “Do I have to have water?”
He laughed, picturing you scrunching up your face.
“Need you to stay hydrated.”
Because he cared.
MFP: “But what if I try to live on stubbornness like you?”
You’re too good to live on stubbornness.
“Still need water.”
MFP: “Yes, Sarge.”
Oh, that did something to him.
MFP: “But only if you drink some water, too.”
“I will.”
He would for you.
He didn’t hear from you on Tuesday.
That was fine. You were busy. You had a life outside of him. And he didn’t want to bother you.
But he checked his phone more than he should have.
You messaged him first thing on Wednesday.
MFP: “Is it Friday Eve yet?”
Relief hit him faster than he expected.
“Almost. You surviving?”
There was a delay this time. Long enough for him to notice.
MFP: “Barely, but I’m trying.”
He frowned a little.
“Hang in there.”
He hesitated before adding another message.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
There was another pause.
MFP: “Yeah. See you tomorrow.”
He stared at it longer than he meant to.
Something about it felt different. Quieter. He could’ve been imagining it.
He sent one more message before he could stop himself.
“Can’t wait.”
He meant it.
Even if something told him tomorrow would feel different.
Bucky waited at the curb as patiently as he could, checking his hair three times. Just like every week before, he looked forward to seeing you. But this felt different because the texts had been good overall. Almost effortless.
Almost.
Tonight could be a turning point.
Bucky checked his phone again, even though he told himself he wouldn’t.
Sam: “You better not fumble this now that you got her number.”
Stevie: “Ignore him. Just be yourself.”
He huffed under his breath, locking the screen.
Like it’s that easy.
He turned his attention back to your building, his heart sinking the moment you stepped outside.
The usual sweep of your gaze didn’t happen since you were looking at your feet. You hardly seem to notice or care that your bag slipped from your shoulder. When you finally lifted your gaze, you looked worn out in a way he had never seen before.
It was like someone took the light inside you and dialed it down.
Everyone had bad days. That was a normal part of life. But this was you.
It didn’t sit right with him at all.
“Happy Friday Eve,” you stated with a dim smile, hugging the blanket against your chest like a pillow. Your fingers trembled just enough that he spotted it.
“Friday Junior,” he said because that’s what he was supposed to say.
Same thing.
You didn’t say it.
You looked out the window, your jaw tight enough that he could see the tension in your neck. There was no teasing either as he drove. No references to any of the messages between you, like brinner or the bad wig or accent from the movies. No jokes about staying hydrated or calling him Sarge.
There were no comments on anything.
Just the kind of silence that for the first time felt off between you two.
Something was wrong.
I fucked this up, didn’t I?
He thought back to every message he sent like he could figure out the exact moment things flipped.
He responded in a timely manner. He initiated at times so it wouldn’t all fall on you. They weren’t overly flirty but they weren’t cold either.
Maybe you expected more and he let you down.
Or maybe he leaned in too far with the “can’t wait” message and now you were pulling back.
“Hey, um…” He cleared his throat, his grip shifting on the wheel. “If I said something wrong, or if I upset you with one of my texts…”
“What?” Your head snapped toward him, your brows pinching. “Buck, no.”
He blinked, surprised at how quickly you shut that down when his mind was screaming at him. “You sure?” He bit the inside of his cheek. “You just seem off, and I didn’t want it to be because of me.”
He was sure he could handle just about anything but that.
He didn’t want to lose the one bright part of his week because he misread a moment or sent the wrong text.
“Buck,” you said, even gentler this time. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
His shoulders dropped. “Really?” he pressed, needing to be absolutely certain.
“Really. I like talking with you… a lot,” you promised, a shallow breath leaving your lungs. “I swear, it isn’t you.”
The weight in his chest eased enough for him to breathe but not enough to feel okay since your voice cracked. You liked talking to him, which was good. Better than good. But if he wasn’t the issue, it was something else. Something you weren’t telling him.
It worried him.
“Can I ask you something?” you asked softly.
“Yeah. Anything,” he said honestly.
“I don’t think I’ve ever asked you this.” You paused to consider your words. “Why do you drive?”
He inhaled. It wasn’t unusual for you to ask about him. But most people didn’t care enough to ask why he did this job.
You weren’t most people there, were you?
Your gaze was back on him instead of looking out the window, waiting patiently for his answer because you wanted to know.
Like Becca said… you care.
“I guess the easy answer is having a flexible schedule, getting decent money on the right nights, and it beats being in an office with some boss hounding me.”
You gave him a knowing, very small smile. “And what’s the real answer?”
He took a breath. “You remember I served in the army.” You nodded in acknowledgement. “When I got out… there was no clear objective. No structure.” His voice stayed even, but quieter. “It was just… a lot of noise.”
He stared at the taillights in front of him, lost for a moment.
His smile had been wrong for days when he got out. Everything seemed like too much or not enough. And the world didn’t slow down just because people couldn’t keep up.
“I had my friends. My sister. I wasn’t alone,” he said like it mattered because it did. Not everyone had that support. “But it still felt like I was supposed to be doing something… and I didn’t know what that was.”
You didn’t interrupt or rush him, so he continued.
“But this?” He gestured around the cab. “It gave me something again.”
A sense of purpose. A mission.
“I have an objective… orders,” he explained, tapping the dashboard. “I pick a passenger up and I get them from point A to point B. That’s the job.”
You nodded slowly. “That makes sense.”
“And how I get you there? That’s on me.” He tapped his chest. “If the weather’s bad, I take it into account. If there’s awful traffic, I adjust. If my usual route is blocked, I find another way.”
“So, it gives you a sense of control,” you mused. “You know what you have to do, but you choose how you execute it.”
He nodded. You seemed to understand. Not everyone did.
“It’s simple in a good way. Discipline and structure with adaptability.” He ran a hand along the wheel, smiling to himself. “I know what I’m supposed to do. I know I can do it well.”
He glanced at you in the mirror, vulnerability shining in his eyes.
“And at the end of the ride… I get someone where they need to go. Safely.”
He paused, the sounds of honking horns and engines surrounding him. It was strangely comforting. But the most comforting thing was your presence and tender expression.
“And sometimes… that’s enough,” he finished.
“It is. It matters,” you insisted, gently but firmly. “More than you think.”
You make me feel like I matter.
“I do my best.” The words came out nonchalantly but he meant it. “I can’t control what others do when they’re on the road, just like they can’t control me. But if something does happen, I fix it.”
Your expression shifted. “And if there’s a time that you can’t fix it? You can’t control what’s happening?”
Bucky stilled before he realized it. That didn’t sound like you were talking about driving. He had a good read on people, but he couldn’t read between the lines of this. Couldn’t figure out why you were asking that.
What needs fixing?
“I just keep driving,” he finally answered. “Like Steve always says… We have to move forward.”
You shifted in your seat. “I guess it’s all we can do,” you said more to yourself than him. “And for what it’s worth, you really are doing a great job,” you added.
He inhaled sharply. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. You help people every time you drive. You don’t just drive well. You do it safely, like you said,” you pointed out, giving him a small smile. “I always feel safe when I’m with you.”
Those words landed in the middle of his doubt in himself, threatening to tear it apart. There was trust within your compliment. It was pure in an impure world.
“Good.” He had to swallow to keep his voice steady. “I’m glad you feel that way.”
You smiled again, but it didn’t reach your eyes.
His chest ached. Every smile seemed to take more effort than it should, like you were chipping away little pieces of yourself. He hated that.
He hated that he couldn’t shoulder the weight still pushing you down, even just a little.
“Here we are,” he said once he stopped, quieter than before.
“Thanks, Buck,” you said, handing over a protein bar with the cash. “And I’m sorry if I made you think that you upset me.”
“Don’t apologize,” he said quickly, turning around as best as he could so he could see you. “You don’t have to do that with me.”
There was no reason for you to apologize when he was the one overthinking.
“But are you sure you’re alright?” he asked, searching your face for the answer your lips may not say.
Lean on me if you aren’t.
Something passed in your eyes and then it was gone. “I will be,” you assured him.
His stomach dropped when you took the blanket with you, like you forgot you were holding it. You clutched it like a lifeline as you walked away from the cab. He watched you go, reaching for the door handle. You disappeared into the building before he could follow, which he had never done before.
You weren’t okay.
For the first time since he met you, he had no idea how to fix it.
But something told him he was about to find out.
By the time he came back, he was tense. He told himself you just needed time with your family tonight. That whatever was on your mind eased with some laughter and familiar warmth.
It had to have helped.
…Right?
His heart didn’t sink when he saw you.
It cracked.
You had the blanket around your shoulders, trying to hold yourself together as you put one foot in front of the other. The look of sadness on your face wasn’t fleeting or light. It was the kind that settled in your bones.
What the hell happened?
You forced a smile when you met his eye and it twisted something inside him painfully.
Don’t do that. Please, don’t do that.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” you replied, your voice thin.
He didn’t drive off right away, giving you a moment to get your bearings.
But you didn’t.
You didn’t slip your shoes off or tuck yourself in. The blanket stayed around your shoulders like an afterthought. Your breaths were too measured. Too careful.
He held the wheel so tight that his fingers ached.
You were a heartbeat away from unraveling.
“Ready?”
“Yeah.”
The city bustled around like normal, but nothing inside the cab felt the same.
The air felt even heavier than earlier. The silence was too loud.. Louder than any word you ever spoke.
And you simply stared ahead like you were bracing yourself for impact.
His teeth snapped together, trying hard to keep himself in check. His job was to get you home safely. If you wanted to confide in him, he’d listen. But you didn’t have to lean on him.
He was just…
Your breath hitched on the next turn.
He made it three more blocks before he couldn’t take it anymore.
Fuck this. I’m not just your driver.
He switched lanes and turned down a road he had never taken on your route before. It was familiar to him, of course. Away from some of the noise. It had a soothing view, too.
Exhaling through his nose, he stopped the car and turned to look at you.
He recognized pain when he saw it. Had lived through it. He couldn’t recall ever seeing you look so fragile.
It’s okay to break with me.
“Hey,” he said carefully because you needed something gentle. “I know you said you’ll be alright… but you’re not.”
“I will be,” you said quickly, your lower lip trembling. “I have to be.”
“Hey…” he whispered again.
You don’t need to be strong tonight.
You shook your head automatically, your next breath shaky. “I don’t want to dump this on you.”
“You’re not dumping anything on me,” he promised, needing you to believe him. “You’re hurting.”
Your eyes filled and you tried to blink the moisture away.
He didn’t think when he got out of the cab, his body moving on instinct at the sight of your tears. He got in the back with you, leaving you enough space so you wouldn’t feel cornered. His hands rested on his knees, making sure not to touch you since he didn’t know if that would help or make things worse.
But he wanted to be there for you.
“Please, let me help,” he begged, his voice thick. “Even just a little.”
That did it.
A sob burst from your chest, your hand coming up to cover your mouth and failing to keep it in.
His heart stopped, his fingers curling to hold himself back from hauling you into his arms.
You hastily wiped your tears away that fell, like it would hide them. Your shoulders shook the more you tried to hold them in. Another broken sound escaped, the threads inside you slowly pulling apart.
“He’s sick,” you whimpered. “My brother…”
Your words were like a punch to the gut.
Oh, no…
“He has been for a while. They thought he was getting better, but the last couple of weeks have been bad,” you admitted, your face crumbling. “He barely made it through dinner tonight before he had to lay down.”
His jaw tightened in that helpless way when grief felt too close and overpowering.
“And the kids… They don’t get why their dad is so tired or why their mom looks so sad when she thinks no one’s looking.” You hiccuped, the sound raw. “And I’m trying to help when I can. I’m trying to be strong for everyone, but I’m scared and… I can’t fix this.”
His throat went tight.
“And if there’s a time that you can’t fix it? You can’t control what’s happening?”
It all made sense now.
The nights where you looked a little worn down. Your smiles that didn’t reach your eyes. Your light dimming. The talk earlier tonight.
While he had been overanalyzing his interactions with you, you were carrying this.
Alone.
And he couldn’t fix it for you.
“I help cook, clean, make the kids smile, but I don’t know what to do anymore,” you whimpered, looking at him with teary eyes. “It hurt for me to smile tonight.”
Trying to smile through pain was one of the hardest things a person could do.
“I’ve been holding this in and I… can’t anymore.”
Bucky couldn’t keep staying behind the line he drew.
Not anymore.
His arms went around you without another thought, strong and steady, pulling you in like it was the most natural thing in the world. You clung to him, your fingers curling in his shirt as you sobbed painfully into his neck. He closed his eyes, willing whatever being was watching over them to feed some of your pain into him.
Don’t do this to her. Give it to me. I can take it.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, cradling the back of your head as your cries continued. “I’ve got you.”
He didn’t say it was okay because it wasn’t. But he was there. Solid and real. Nothing else mattered except you.
“He’s my big brother. He’s a good guy. He’s supposed to be okay,” you choked out between sobs. “But he isn’t, and I can’t make it any better.”
He pressed his cheek to your temple. He knew how afraid Becca had been when he served and how relieved she was when he came back. If he were to get sick now… If anything happened to him…
“You just need to love him,” he whispered against your ear. “And you do. You have such a big heart.”
You cried harder, making him hold you closer.
“Just let it out,” he urged, rubbing your shaking back.
Minutes passed before your cries eventually slowed to small sniffles. Your body slumped against his, the tears wearing you out. And he held you through it all, letting you feel his warmth and comfort.
You lifted your head slowly, your cheeks wet. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
“Don’t you dare apologize for that,” he said, wiping a stray tear away with his thumb. “Sometimes saying it out loud makes it more real and it opens up the floodgates before you’re ready.”
Like me being a coward about my feelings for you.
You leaned into his touch briefly. “I didn’t want to be a burden,” you said, your voice wrecked.
“You’re not.” He pulled back enough to really look at you. “You never could be.”
You searched his face, your lip trembling again. “Am I doing enough?”
Your grief already cut open his heart, but your question made him feel the blade all over again.
“You’re doing more than enough. You’re showing up for everyone. That matters,” he swore to you, echoing some of your earlier words as he held you tighter. “More than you know.”
Your eyes shimmered again, but the tears didn’t fall.
“And you can lean on me whenever you need to,” he added, giving you a tender smile. “You don’t have to do this alone.”
You smiled back faintly. “Thanks, Buck.”
“Yeah,” he whispered. “Anytime.”
You let go of his shirt, but didn’t make an effort to move out of his arms. He didn’t move either, taking a second to breathe with you and memorize how it felt to hold you. He’d keep you in his embrace all night if he could.
“Can I just...” You glanced down, your fingers absentmindedly tracing a pattern on your thigh. “Can I say something?”
“Anything,” he answered, adjusting the blanket around your shoulders.
Say whatever you need to. I got you.
“Seeing you… talking to you,” you began. “I always look forward to it.”
You lifted your gaze, somehow more exposed and vulnerable than your earlier tears.
“It’s the best part of my week,” you admitted.
Bucky froze completely.
You exhaled shakily, like you said too much.
“I didn’t want to fall apart in front of you,” you went on while his brain was scrambling to catch up. “But everything felt heavy and I just… I felt safe enough that I could. So… thank you. For that.”
He didn’t speak. He couldn’t. Your words flowed through him, filing every crack he couldn’t seal shut himself.
I’m the best part of your week?
Not work, your friends, or even your family?
Me?
Since the beginning, he told himself to stay in his lane and keep things simple. To be professional. Driver and passenger. That was it.
But you were here in his arms, trusting him enough with something so raw and admitting that he was the one thing that made your week a little lighter.
Him.
And he was still acting as if there was a line he shouldn’t cross?
His thumb brushed your shoulder. You looked to him for comfort tonight. You needed him in a way.
Maybe you wanted him, too.
If that were true, what the hell was he waiting for?
Don’t rush her. Don’t make this about me.
“I appreciate you telling me that,” he whispered once he found his voice. “Let’s get you home, okay?”
You nodded, your energy spent as you shifted from his hold. He felt the loss immediately, the cab feeling colder. But he didn’t linger, as much as he wanted to.
He moved back to the driver seat grudgingly and started the engine.
You weren’t too far from your place, but he drove a bit slower and checked the mirror more than he needed to. You had your legs curled up now, your eyes heavy but open. Not distant or shut down. Just tired.
You had a good reason to feel tired.
But you also gave him a smile when you caught him looking the last time. A small, real one. Because you felt safe.
You’re safe with me.
The lights didn’t seem as harsh when he turned onto your street. The breeze wasn’t as strong. The world seemed to realize you needed little wins after breaking down.
Neither of you moved right away when he parked.
“Hey.” He turned slightly in his seat, your expression glassy but more clear when you handed him the money. “I’m gonna walk you to your building tonight.”
It wasn’t a question or suggestion.
Should’ve been doing that since the first night.
“I’d like that,” you uttered.
“And you can take the blanket,” he offered when you started to fold it. “If you want.”
“Really?” Your eyes widened in realization. “Oh, my God. I took it with me earlier. I’m so sorry.”
Bucky had to smile at the way you looked genuinely distressed, like you had done something unforgivable.
“It’s okay,” he said gently. “You had a lot on your mind.”
You hesitated, but didn’t set it down. “Are you sure I can take it with me?”
“Yeah.” His gaze softened. “I put it back there so you’d be comfortable, and it kinda defeats the purpose if you don’t use it.”
He wouldn’t be there to hold you tonight if you cried again, so the blanket would have to do. It was a small piece of comfort. A small piece of him.
Warmth filled your eyes. “Thank you.”
“Anytime,” he replied, meaning it in more ways than one.
He stepped out first, going to your door to open it. He didn’t rush you as you gathered your things, letting you go at your pace. He understood how the body lagged sometimes after everything spilled over.
And his hand was already outstretched to help you out if you wanted it.
You took it.
Instead of the usual spark when your fingers touched, something steadier and grounding moved between you both.
It felt like your hand belonged with his.
It feels right.
He helped you out and fell in step beside you, matching your pace without thinking. Your thumb brushed his skin, making his grip tighten a fraction when he glanced at you. Faint exhaustion lingered in your body, but you weren’t as tense. Your breathing had evened out.
The hurt was still there, but you were safe.
You made it to the door, the light above it casting a glow over you, but you didn’t reach for the handle or let go of his hand.
The soft good nights usually happened at the car, but not tonight.
“Thank you for tonight,” you said above a whisper.
He nodded, everything from the last few weeks pressing into his mind.
Sam on one shoulder. “Be a man and get her number.
Steve on the other. “You’re allowed to want something.”
The teasing. The smiles. The protein bars. The card your niece and nephew made. The movie list.
How you quietly gave him your number. The careful texts. The deeper talks.
The way you trusted him and broke in his arms tonight.
The way you said he’s the best part of your week.
The way he was done pretending that there wasn’t something there between you.
Time to erase the line for good.
He kept your hand in his, refusing to retreat into neutral territory. “I, uh…” He rubbed the back of his neck and exhaled. “I was thinking.”
You gazed at him expectantly.
“I know things are… a lot right now,” he said, trying to be careful and not add pressure when you had so much on your mind. “With your brother and everything.”
Your grip tightened on the blanket, but you nodded for him to continue.
“And I’m not trying to…” He huffed a little, almost frustrated with himself. “I’m not trying to make things harder for you.”
That was the last thing he wanted to do.
“You’re not,” you said, stepping closer. “You never could.”
That gave him just enough courage to keep going, taking one last deep breath.
Just say it.
“I just… I don’t want to keep pretending that I’m just your cab driver anymore. Not after tonight,” he said, his forehead almost touching yours. “Because you’re the best part of my week, too.”
Your breath caught enough that he felt it.
“So. When things feel less heavy, or you just need a break…” His heart was pounding now. “Would you like to have dinner with me?”
He didn’t breathe as the question hung in the air.
Opening up and asking you out wasn’t going to magically erase the pain or worry you felt. It wouldn’t fix what was happening with your brother. But you didn’t need to go it alone.
You stared at him, almost like you were afraid he’d take the offer back. “Dinner?” you echoed.
“Yeah. Dinner. With me,” he said, his voice low. “No meter running or route. Just… us.”
Just the two of you enjoying each other’s company.
“Because I want to see you outside of the cab.” His thumb brushed your knuckles. “I want to critique movies and books with you and eat pizza or noodles or brinner and just talk. I want Al to finally see my favorite passenger in person.”
A small laugh escaped you, the sound like sunlight appearing after a storm.
“But only if you want, and only when you’re ready.”
You stared at him for a long moment before you smiled, one that reached your eyes for the first time tonight.
“I’d like that,” you said
The rush of relief hit him so fast it almost made him lightheaded. You wanted to have dinner with him. You wanted to see him outside of the weekly routine.
“Yeah?” he asked, just to be sure.
“Yeah,” you replied, tender and certain. “Is… tomorrow too soon?”
Bucky blinked, genuinely thinking he misheard you.
Tomorrow?
His heart stuttered. He expected an offer to check your schedule or something weeks down the line. But not this.
“Tomorrow?” he repeated breathlessly.
You nodded, a tad shy. “Yeah. I mean, if you’re free… and it’s not too fast or anything?”
Too fast?
I’ve been waiting fifteen Thursdays now for this.
“It’s not too fast.” He shook his head, a faint, disbelieving smile tugging at his lips. “It’s actually kinda perfect.”
“It is?”
“It is,” he said, more certain. “Tomorrow’s great.”
Tomorrow meant you wanted this. Not just someday down the line, but now. Even with everything going on.
“We can keep it easy,” he said, his thumb moving over your knuckles again. “Whatever you’re up for.”
“Movie?” you suggested, a small hint of your usual warmth slipping back in. “And noodles?”
He laughed. “Number seven?”
“Number seven,” you confirmed, your smile widening.
“Alright. Noodles and a movie at my place.”
“It’s a date,” you whispered.
A date.
You were still standing close. Close enough that if he leaned in just a fraction… God, he wanted to kiss you. More than anything.
The two of you took an important step. He finally stopped being a coward. You didn’t hold everything in.
But he didn’t kiss you.
Tonight wasn’t about that.
His forehead, however, did intentionally brush yours this time.
“I’ll text you,” he murmured.
“I’ll be waiting.”
And I’ll be counting down the minutes.
You squeezed his hand before finally stepping back, his blanket tucked against your chest. “Good night, Buck.”
He memorized the way you gazed at him, basking in that glow. “Good night.”
You slipped inside, the door clicking shut behind you. There was no drop in his stomach. No nerves.
He didn’t have to wait for another Thursday to see you again.
He finally turned back toward the cab, running a hand through his hair like he was trying to physically process what just happened.
Dinner and a movie.
You wanted to spend time with him.
“Jesus,” he muttered happily under his breath as he slid back into the driver’s seat.
His gaze drifted to the backseat, landing on the empty space where you had been curled up just minutes ago, his blanket wrapped around you, trusting him with something rough and fragile.
When he picked you up tomorrow, you could sit in the front beside him.
His phone buzzed, his heart picking up before he even saw your message.
Of course, it was you.
MFP: “Curled up on the couch with your blanket. Thanks again. For everything.”
It gave him peace of mind knowing you made it into your place safe and sound since he only walked you to the building door.
“Thanks for letting me help.”
He made a difference tonight.
He almost set the phone down when another message popped up.
MFP: “My brother was awake when I reached out.”
He held his breath. Was he okay? Did something happen?
“Yeah?”
Three dots appeared long enough that he sat up straighter.
MFP: “I told him we’re having dinner tomorrow, and he said he’s looking forward to meeting the guy who keeps me safe every week.”
He reread the message until the screen went dark.
Your brother, the one you were terrified for, wanted to meet him.
Becca would want to meet you.
He rubbed a hand over his mouth, trying to ground himself. Something earnest and dangerously close to overwhelming spread from his chest, the card on the dashboard staring at him. It brought a smile to his face.
“I’d be honored to meet him. I’ll have to make a good first impression.”
As a big brother, Bucky sensed and respected that he would be a bit protective of you.
MFP: “You already have.”
The additional layer of assurance did wonders.
MFP: “Get some rest tonight, okay? Happy Friday Eve.”
There it was.
Soft, familiar, and you.
“You, too. And it’s Friday Junior.”
MFP: “Same thing. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” he whispered, happiness filling him to the point where he thought he’d float away.
He shot off a quick message to the guys and Becca. “Got a date tomorrow night. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
With a smile, he put the phone away. He could already see Sam losing his mind and Steve would try and fail to act subtle about it. Becca would demand every detail after. He’d wait until later to see and hear their stunned reactions.
For now, he was going to drive and get a few more people where they needed to go.
But not before taking one last look at your building and picturing you curled up with his blanket.
Fifteen Thursdays.
Fifteen weeks of watching you slip into his cab with tired eyes, soft smiles, and sweetness that made a difference in his day. Fifteen weeks of falling for you in steady increments. Fifteen weeks of chances he almost let slip by because it took him some time to feel brave.
And tonight he erased the line he drew in the sand for good because you mattered more.
You let him see you and it was a beautiful thing.
“Tomorrow,” he said again like a promise, starting the car and pulling away from the curb.
Tomorrow there wouldn’t be a meter running or rearview mirror glances. No pretending it was just another ride. It would just be you and him.
He was counting down the minutes.
And for once, he didn’t feel like he needed to second guess any of it.
Whew! Did we make it? This isn't the end for these two. It's very much a beginning. Would love to hear your thoughts!
It's been so long since we've read a good James x Slytherin reader. Especially if they went from enemies to lovers and my favorite authors wrote it.
Ah, that would be so wonderful!!
Cora! ❤︎ I hope this scratches the itch (sorry it took so long) ❤︎ I believe I'm getting better at writing James and having another 10K+ word fic about him doesn't hurt. ❤︎ This was def more reader/James based and it's weird to not have many 4/4 Marauder interactions. Whatevs ❤︎
Hope y'all enjoy ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎
Power of a bonbon
James Potter x Slytherin!fem!reader
13.5k words
cw: enemies-to-lovers, typical Slytherin/Gryffindor hatred dynamic, allusions to sexual activities, unwanted advances, little bit of pining, some fluff, ig angst if you squint
There were few truly great Hogwarts mysteries left. Most things could be explained with magic and everyone just went with it.
The hatred that you and James Potter had for each other? No one knew.
James hated all Slytherins. That was understood. But what he harbored towards you was on a whole other level. It was known within two weeks of your first year that you two could not be sat next to each other nor paired with each other.
You didn’t hate all Gryffindors. You didn’t hate all pure bloods. You didn’t hate all quidditch players. You didn’t hate glasses or obnoxiously cocky people. You simply hated James for breathing and no one could figure out why him specifically.
“Wow, they really let anyone into N.E.W.T. potions, huh,” you said, mainly to Dorcas, as James walked in with Sirius. “I suppose daddy dearest might’ve donated a pretty galleon to the school.”
James didn’t say anything until he sat down. “All rattle and no venom.”
“And he wishes I’d bite him,” you retorted.
Dorcas laughed along with a few other students who had heard you.
Someone behind you explained it to whomever they were sitting with. “Snakes usually have to bite to inject venom, but it’s also a kinky thing. Like a sex thing.”
You raised your hand to your mouth to hide your laughter. Professor Slughorn chose that moment to exit his office and start class.
The beginning of sixth year had you hoping you’d have minimal classes with James. Less classes with his friends would be cool too, but avoiding James was your top priority. As you went through that first week, your schedules were revealed to be inconveniently similar. Whatever higher power there was hated you. It wanted to see you suffer.
By the weekend, the whole Slytherin Common Room knew about your predicament; you had whined about it several times.
“I can make him disappear for you, sweetheart,” Wilkes said, leaning forward slightly as he stood with you and your friends.
You squished his cheeks with one of your hands. “Thank you, but then you’d get in trouble with old Dumbledore, because he loves the Gryffindors, and we can’t be having that.”
He chuckled and removed your hand from his face.
“If you change your mind-”
“I know where you sleep. Don’t worry.”
“You can always visit me there, even if you don’t change your mind,” Wilkes said with a wink.
“I’ll… keep that in mind,” you said before turning away from him and looking at Dorcas with wide eyes.
You would laugh about that later in your dorm. He had started slightly flirting with you last year, but it was nothing too direct or even actually asking you out. It was simply an announcement of interest. An invite to his bed was quite a jump.
“Do you feel woo-ed? Swept off your feet?” Dorcas asked through her giggles.
“I feel like he’ll ask for my hand by the end of the year, even if I never step foot in his room,” you said heartily.
“I can see if Evan knows if his parents are trying to set him up with anyone. If not…” Pandora said from where she was laying on her bed, “that could be a real possibility.”
“We’ll see what he’s saying after Christmas,” you laughed.
If Pandora asked Evan, he could bring it up to Wilkes that your friend was asking about his marital status and that would let him think you were interested when you weren’t, not really. But things could change over the length of a term. Maybe if he asked you out and was a decent date. As things stood at that moment, you were as likely to go on a date with him as you were with James.
Wilkes’ comments were about as frequent as they were in the spring, although they were more bold – like his invitation to his room. He wasn’t the only one to flirt with you. Avery and Mulciber also said suggestive things to you. A Ravenclaw properly flirted with you in a more polite, let-me-get-to-know-you kind of way. A fifth year Gryffindor dared to ask you out; you declined.
“I can’t wait for the first party,” Dorcas said one evening in the common room. “You’re going to be snogging some bloke in the corner and it’ll be the gossip of the school.”
“Why would that be exciting for you?” you asked.
“You could use a good snog. You’ve kissed, what, one guy? That Hufflepuff last year who dropped the card during Suck ‘n’ Blow?”
“I stand by what I said. He did that on purpose,” Pandora chimed in.
You rolled your eyes. “Yes, because that seventh year wanted to kiss a little fifth year.”
“He didn’t pull away! I swear he leaned in!”
“He was drinking firewhiskey.”
“I think my point still stands.”
“A halfway pretty girl and alcohol can make a bloke do a lot of things,” you said.
“Halfway pretty?” Dorcas laughed. “One second!” She held up a finger and then turned to where some boys were sitting on the other side of the room. “Oi! Is Y/N halfway pretty?”
“Bloody gorgeous, and she’d be perfect on my dick,” Mulciber said.
Others nodded in agreement. Wilkes made a similarly vulgar comment.
“Gross but proved my point,” Dorcas said, turning back to you.
“I blossomed over the summer,” you said as you crossed your arms and leaned back into the couch. “Of course those horndogs are going to say I’m pretty if it increases the slim chances they’ll ever get laid.”
“You blossomed in third year,” Pandora said matter-of-factly.
You and Dorcas both stared at her.
“What? I have a brother. And I may have heard things.”
By the end of the month, five different guys – not including the fifth year Gryffindor – had asked you out. You turned them down with an “I’m not looking for anything serious.” Most of them turned away, disappointed with your answer. All except Barty Crouch Jr. from the year below you.
“Good thing I’m not either,” he said.
You raised your eyebrows slightly.
“I’m looking for something fun and…” He gave you an obvious once over. “You look like fun.”
You returned his once over with a smirk. “Better question is are you?”
That’s how you ended up in a broom closet with him. He was also the one you spent most of the first Slytherin party swapping spit with. With how you acted around each other in between and after, it was clear that it was simply fun. There were no strings. No commitments. No feelings.
In the span of that same month, your foot got stuck in a false step, your bag ripped at the seam and all of your ink pots were suddenly spotless. Not just empty, spotless. It wasn’t like the ink had spilled or dried out, or you forgot to get a refill. Each pot was pristine. It was so clearly done on purpose and you knew there was no one else to blame besides James. You had no proof of it but you knew. You did have proof that he tripped you and stole your Charms notes.
You were, however, the reason all of his cloaks were six inches too short and all of the covers on his textbooks were swapped. A few doors slammed shut by themselves in his face. You also ensured that he was insulted at least once a day. His looks, personality, family, intelligence, excuse of humor. Anything about him was fair game as far as you were concerned. It was practically a miracle you weren’t at each other’s throats with wands drawn.
“Y/N, you got a minute?” someone asked as you made your way from the library back to your common room.
You turned to see a seventh year Hufflepuff walking toward you with an easy smile and confident air about him. You had a good feeling about what he was going to say. At least the general idea of it. He was going to say that you were pretty and smart and he wanted to take you out sometime. You prepared to tell him that you weren’t interested.
“You’re not seeing that Crouch kid, right?” he asked.
Apparently word about who you were snogging had traveled a little bit.
“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’. “He’s just a good snog, you know?”
“Well, I wouldn’t know. I’ll take your word for it though.” He reached out and brushed his knuckles against the side of your arm. “What about you?”
“What about me?” you repeated with a tilt of your head.
“Are you a good snog?”
That got a short laugh out of you. “How would I know that? I can’t very well snog myself.”
“Crouch didn’t tell you? That’s not very considerate of him. I think a lady ought to know. How about this – you come down to my dorm and I’ll tell you how you do.”
You rolled your eyes. Your gut told you this was a joke, just a guy trying his hand at what he knew was a long short.
“I think I’ll be going back to my own dorm. Alone,” you said. “Thanks for the offer.”
You started walking, but the hand that had been brushing against your arm grabbed it. Your immediate reaction was to pull out of his hand, but he had a tight grip.
“I could come to your dorm. I don’t mind.”
His smile shifted from sweet to something that put a stone in your stomach. You tried pulling away to no avail.
“I don’t care if you mind. I mind.”
“Come on, don’t play hard to get.” His other hand reached for your other arm’s elbow. “We don’t even have to go back to a dorm if that’s what’s stopping you. Plenty of broom closets between here and there. Empty classrooms. You can have your pick.”
You kept trying to move away from him. Your wand was at the bottom of your bag and you knew you couldn’t grab it without him stopping you. This Hufflepuff was too strong.
“My pick is not you,” you hissed.
“I’m better than Crouch. You’ll see,” he said, forcing your body to turn toward him and then leaning in.
You didn’t see James appear. Not until the Hufflepuff was pulled off of you and pushed to the side.
“Bugger off, Knighton,” James said firmly.
When the Hufflepuff didn’t leave right away, James gave his shoulder a shove.
“Go,” James said.
Knighton looked annoyed but left. Then James turned to you.
“You alright?” he asked in a hushed voice.
You hesitated before answering, taking a moment to adjust your bag on your shoulder. You reached into it to grab your wand. If that was how boys were going to be in the corridors, you’d need to be better prepared.
“I’m fine. Thanks.”
Of all the people to show up and stop Knighton, why did it have to be James? He probably thought that you owed him now, that you were in his debt. You’d rather be in anyone else’s debt but his.
You were visibly flustered when you got back to the common room. No one said anything as you went straight to your dorm. Barty saw you go but didn’t even consider asking Pandora if you were alright. There wasn’t anything between you two. The pretty girl he had been kissing was in a huff; that was something to avoid.
You expected James to flaunt it in your face that he practically saved you. A few days passed with virtually no changes. He treated you like he always had. There’s no mention of Knighton and his unwanted advances.
It bugged you. Why did James bother to help you if not to hold it over you? Why would he go back to hating your guts so immediately? Something about it didn’t feel right.
“Potter. A word,” you said after Potions.
He stopped just outside of the classroom. And so did Sirius.
“Just Potter,” you said to him flatly.
“Yeah, I want my mate to show up to Ancient Runes alive.”
“Pads, go,” James said. “I can handle myself.”
Sirius looked from you to James, to make sure that he was sure, and then back to you. Then he walked away.
“Need another rescuing?” James asked.
“I wouldn’t call it a rescue.” A lie. “But it is bothering me.”
James let out a disbelieving huff before saying, “You don’t owe me or anything, if that’s what’s bothering you.”
Straight to the point. It was almost funny how well James knew you. You crossed your arms.
“Why did you help?” you asked, narrowing your eyes. “I thought you loved to see me miserable.”
“Only when you bring it upon yourself. Or when I cause it.” His lips briefly curled into a smirk. “Knighton was being an arse, and no one deserves that kind of torture.”
He gave you a curt nod and walked in the direction that Sirius had gone. You watched him walk away with a frown on your face. That conversation didn’t soothe your thoughts. It made them worse.
So you didn’t owe James anything and he didn’t seem to want to hold it over you. But he wanted to be the only one to torture you? Really? It didn’t make sense. You wanted to ask why. You tried to think of reasons why for the rest of the day. Nothing made sense.
“What was that about?” Sirius asked when James joined him and Remus in the Ancient Runes classroom.
“Incident with Knighton the other day. It’s nothing.”
“Knighton?” Remus asked.
James nodded, but Remus didn’t seem satisfied with that.
“What were they doing that she needed to talk to you about?”
James looked away from the boys momentarily, running a hand through his hair.
“He, um, was being a twat. Harassing her,” he said. “I… I stopped him.”
Sirius laughed, “You stopped him? Don’t you harass her every day?”
“No, like he was forcing himself onto her.”
“Huh,” Sirius said.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he said with a shrug. “Didn’t think you’d be a knight in shining armor for her, of all people.”
“It didn’t have anything to do with her. Didn’t matter who Knighton was doing that to. It was just that he was doing it.”
Remus hummed and tossed Sirius a look, which James did not miss. His friends didn’t think that you had nothing to do with it.
“I didn’t even know it was her until I pulled him back,” James lied.
He had heard your voice. He heard you say you didn’t want Knighton and the older boy didn’t back off. James knew it was you, but he stood by what he told the boys. It didn’t matter that it was you. It could have been anyone and James would’ve pulled Knighton off of them. He meant it when he said that the seventh year was an arse and no one deserved that kind of torture.
He just didn’t linger on what he told you – that he was the only one allowed to make you miserable. He also didn’t mention that to the boys. They would’ve taken it to mean something that it didn’t.
“Would you describe Potter as self-righteous?” you asked the girls in your dorm that night.
Dorcas hummed as she flipped the page of her Transfiguration textbook. “Lots of ways to describe him. That could be one.”
“What’d that piece of shit do now?” Beatrice, another one of your roommates, asked.
“He said he wants to be the only one to torture me.”
“That’s… something,” Dorcas said, looking up. “What’s the context?”
You scoffed and rolled your eyes at the memory.
“Fucking Knighton? I think that’s what Potter called him. Older Hufflepuff. Tried to force his way into my pants and Potter swings in ‘n’ makes him stop.” You shook your head. “I was going to tell him off, because I will not be in debt to Potter. And he says that he’s the only one allowed to torture me.”
“Imagine if he had said he wants to be the only one in your pants,” Pandora laughed.
You, Dorcas and Beatrice all stared at her for a second before laughing with her.
“He would never,” Dorcas wheezed.
And nothing changed. You still made it your number one mission to make James miserable, and he you. It was almost like you had an understanding. You hated each other and that’s what it was. You were allowed to make each other wish you were never born. Whether anyone else was allowed to do that was up in the air. Boys still asked you out from time to time and you still snogged Barty periodically, but no one made unwanted advances on you. People, usually Slytherins, expressed their annoyance with James and his friends, but you were the only one who ever seemed to exact any kind of revenge on them. If you were messing with someone, James was the target.
You walked into Potions, going to take your usual spot when you noticed that not only was Dorcas not sitting there, but no one was sitting in their spots. Everyone was standing along the back wall. Someone pointed to the blackboard.
Assigning new seats
You went to stand next to Dorcas.
“Since when does Professor Slughorn assign seats to sixth years?” you asked quietly.
“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “I thought it was for a different class but Vance said she saw him writing it when she walked in.”
“But why do we need them? Aren’t we all doing fine?”
“As far as I’m aware… Who knows what’s going on in that old man’s head?”
The last few minutes before class started passed slowly.
“Good morning everyone!” Professor Slughorn said once he exited his office. He held a small cauldron in his hands. “Good to see everyone saw the board. We’ll be drawing numbers for the new seats.” He shook the cauldron so everyone could hear slips of paper rustling. “One is the front left-most seat, and so on. Then seven in the second row. I don’t care what order you draw in, just no switching!” He set the cauldron on the demonstration desk at the front of the room. “If anyone ends up with who they’ve been sitting with so far, I will move you.” He clasped his hands together and smiled. “Alright, go on. We have an exciting lesson ahead of us.”
“Doubt it,” Dorcas muttered, but she led the class to the front of the room.
She sighed after drawing and showed you the slip. Three.
“Front and center,” you said.
You stuck your hand in the cauldron and swirled the papers around. You selected one and unfolded it. Eighteen. You showed Dorcas.
“Other side of the room. It’s been nice knowing you.”
Dorcas only had to turn around to find her desk. You walked to the back of the classroom and began setting up. Slowly, the rest of the class picked their numbers and found their new seats. There wasn’t much conversation happening.
“Professor,” James’ voice said. “I can’t sit here.”
You glanced up from your fingernails. You may have been picking at them while you were waiting. Professor Slughorn took the slip from James’ hand and you were half-surprised to see him look back at you. There were two people James couldn’t work with: Sirius and you.
“That’s not Mr. Black there,” Professor Slughorn chuckled as he gave James the slip back. “You two are no longer second years, Mr. Potter. I trust you’ll find a way to work together.”
“Professor,” James said, almost begging. “I’ll sit anywhere else.”
“Mr. Potter.”
James frowned. The professor’s tone said to drop it and deal with it. James walked back to your table and dropped his things on it with a thud.
“Wow, don’t act like I killed your owl.”
He glared at you. “I wouldn’t put it past you to.”
“I wouldn’t actually kill an owl,” you scoffed. “Even if it had the unfortunate fate of belonging to you.”
“This better be temporary…” James grumbled as he took his seat.
Once everyone was situated with Sirius sitting in spot seven, Professor Slughorn explained why they were switching seats. Part of being in N.E.W.T. level courses was being able to succeed no matter who you worked with. Everyone in the room was competent. None of them should have any issues with brewing potions if they could personally do it. Who you sat next to was a preference, but life is not about your preferences. But he claimed he wasn’t cruel. He would be assigning an out-of-class project for everyone to complete with their new partner to help you familiarize yourself with each other.
James kept his eyes glued to his notes the whole time Professor Slughorn spoke. You watched him in your periphery. You knew you’d be fine. You were good at Potions. And you assumed James had to actually be decent enough to make it into the class, despite what you had said at the start of the semester. You knew that James was a decent student. You just also knew that it drove him crazy when you implied he paid his way through classes.
By the end of the period, you were ready to tell James that you could meet in the library a few times and crank out the project. It would minimize how much time you spent together. He would just have to do some extra work by himself, as would you.
Only you didn’t open your mouth fast enough after Slughorn dismissed class. Within seconds, James was gone. You stood up and followed him out, but you and Sirius both stood outside the classroom for a second, looking for him. He really booked it.
Sirius glanced at you sideways. “Right… Bye.”
Sirius met up with James in the Great Hall, where he was already shoveling food into his mouth.
“So, those new Potions seats,” Sirius said as he sat down across from James at the Gryffindor table. “Not ideal, if you ask me.”
“Nowht idweal?” James repeated through a mouth full of food. He swallowed. “I’m not sure you saw who I was seated next to.”
“You did rip Knighton off of her. So how bad could it be?”
“You know how bad it is.”
“You’ve never told anyone why you hate her. So, do I know?”
James shook his head. It had been pretty clear at the beginning of first year that you weren’t going to talk about it and James agreed that that was the best course of action. He wasn’t going to change that now.
“I have my reasons.”
“Reasons you haven’t told me. Or Remus. Or Peter.” Sirius scooped some food onto his plate. “She’s a Slytherin so I get it, but… I don’t know. She’s not like Snivellus or Mulciber or Avery.”
“You don’t know her like I do,” James said.
“Clearly. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that miserable in Potions. History of Magic maybe, but not Potions.”
You could see Sirius and James’ animated conversation from across the hall. It deepened the frown that had graced your face since you exited the Potions’ classroom.
“Don’t let that shit get you down, lovely,” Avery said.
“He’s a proper twat,” you said with an eye roll. “Annoying that he can’t seem to see that I want to be sat next to him as much as he wants to sit next to me.”
“I would’ve thought he was smart enough to understand that you have to work together if you want to pass,” Dorcas said.
You shrugged. “Maybe he’ll pay Slughorn off later and I’ll get someone decent… Actually, I wouldn’t mind that.” Your face turned hopeful. “What do you think I’d have to do to get him to try that?”
James’ attitude toward you didn’t change over the rest of the day, nor did it change during the span of time until your next Potions lesson. He looked ready to completely ignore you again.
“Potter,” you said, sitting down next to him.
He didn’t react.
“You have to acknowledge me if you want to pass this class,” you said flatly. You saw him flex his eyebrows and took it as acknowledgement. “Just let me know which parts of the project you want to do and we’ll just meet in the library once in like four weeks to combine what we got.”
“I’ll do the whole thing,” James said.
You gaped at him briefly, waiting for him to say he was kidding. James was theoretically known for making jokes all the time. But he wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t laughing. There were no indications that he wasn’t being completely serious.
“No? I’m not letting you be solely responsible for my grade.”
“Then proof it when I’m done. I don’t care. I’m just not working with you.”
You frowned. “What is this? Some ploy to get me deeper in your debt? First Knighton and now this?”
That got James to shoot you a sour look.
“I told you you don’t owe me for that.”
“I don’t believe you. You wouldn’t help someone like me without getting something out of it.”
“Because I’m just that selfish, right?”
“Selfish, righteous, pompous, overblown. I could go on.”
“Of course you think I’m all that.”
“You are.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” James said, bringing his attention back to his Potions book. “And you don’t owe me.”
You shook your head and said, “If I don’t owe you, meet me in the library after lessons to figure out what parts of the project we’re each doing. Swallow your pride if that inflated thing can fit down your throat.”
Professor Slughorn started the lesson, allowing the silence between you and James to return. Saying that you worked together during the lesson was a gross overstatement. But, Professor Slughorn had seen that you were sort of conversing before class and he thought that was a win in his books.
When you were dismissed, James didn’t say anything to you. He got up and found Sirius before walking out. You waited for Dorcas.
“Where’re you going?” Sirius asked after the last class of the day when James started to turn down a different corridor.
“Library,” James answered shortly.
“Why?”
“To prove a point.”
“Wha-… actually, never mind. I’ll see you later,” Sirius said with a shake of his head before continuing on his way to Gryffindor Tower.
You weren’t difficult to find in the library. You had picked a spot near the poisons and antidotes sections. You had the rubric laid out in front of you and a few books already pulled from shelves. Rather than saying “hi” to announce his arrival, he dropped his bag on the table.
“Actually showing up for something academic? Didn’t know you could do that,” you said.
“I’m here so you know you don’t owe me. I don’t need associations with you to go beyond this stupid project.”
“Don’t worry, that feeling’s mutual.” You pushed the rubric toward where he stood at the edge of the table. “The sooner we divide the work, the sooner we can leave and not work together for four weeks.”
James quickly read over the portions, which Professor Slughorn had told them to read on their own time. As he went down the page, his expression got progressively annoyed.
“Did you even read this?” he asked, putting it back on the table.
“I skimmed it.”
“We can’t work separately. Everything is… entangled.”
You snatched the paper and thoroughly read it until your expression matched James’.
“Fuck…” you muttered. You reread it again. “Look into the first half of the ingredients and I’ll do the second half. You book a brewing time and-”
“Why do I have to book it?”
“Don’t you have quidditch and detention and whatever else you do?”
“Yeah? So?”
“My schedule’s open. Book it when you’re available and I’ll be there.”
James made a noise that was a mix of a groan and sigh.
“And we’ll go from there, I guess.”
James sat down and pulled one of the books toward him.
“Why are you staying?” you asked. You had expected him to leave once he knew what part of the project he had to do.
“You got the books. I’m already here.” He paused. “Can you handle me sitting here or will your world implode?”
You waved your hand dismissively. “Go ahead, Potter.”
You worked silently for two hours. Then it was almost time to head to dinner and James gathered the books to put them away. You waited at the table until he got back.
“So book the brewing and let me know when. Got it?”
“Yeah. I’m not dense.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” you said and then you left him to finish gathering his things.
“Where’ve you been?” Pandora asked when you sat down in between her and Dorcas.
“Library with Potter.”
“With Potter?” Wilkes asked. “What happened to wanting him to fall off the face of the Earth?”
“Oh, trust me, I still want that. Slughorn assigned a partner project and he thinks there’s no reason James can’t be my partner for it.” You looked at Dorcas. “Did you know that the whole thing has to be completed together?”
She nodded.
“Great. Thanks for telling me that,” you groaned.
The next time James spoke to you he was telling you he booked a brewing time for 9 a.m. on Saturday. When you stared at him gobsmacked, he shrugged and said there was no quidditch game so he was open.
“And what about Hogsmeade?” you asked bitterly.
“This won’t take all day. You’ll have plenty of time when we’re done.”
“Just don’t be late then.”
“What’s that thing you say? Sooner we start, sooner we can leave? I won’t be late.”
You felt stupid for believing he’d actually be on time when you were waiting for him at 9:10 a.m. He didn’t apologize when he arrived. He just threw his bag on the bag near the station where you were sitting.
“Let’s get this over with, princess,” he said.
“What happened to not being late?” you asked as you slid a note-taking sheet toward him before lighting a fire under your cauldron.
“Overslept. Jinx me. I don’t care.”
“Wow, someone’s grumpy this morning. I’d ask who pissed in your pumpkin juice but you’re probably into it.”
“Is that fresh dittany? Instructions say it needs to be fresh,” James said flatly.
You cocked an eyebrow at his lack of response to your jab.
“Yes, it’s fresh. I can read.”
He hummed and reached for a pestle to ground some moonstone.
The rest of the brewing session was quiet. The only talking was curt directions or comments.
“Pass the knife.” “Stir clockwise twice, then counterclockwise three times.” “Drop the shells in one at a time!”
The one time James didn’t ask you to pass something, he reached over for it. He could reach it by leaning forward and over ever so slightly in your direction. The polite thing would’ve been to ask you to hand it to him. As you had been doing for the past hour. But no. Instead, you got a whiff of his cologne, and you instantly knew that it wasn’t something you could tease him about later.
It was good. Not too pungent, not gross or overwhelming. It didn’t make you want to gag. It must’ve cost him a few galleons, but you thought it was worth whatever the cost. While it may not have been drawing in Lily Evans, it certainly wasn’t driving away second choices for him.
The potion turned a milky color. You used a ladle to scoop a sample and let it pour back into the cauldron.
“That looks right,” you said.
“Great,” James said flatly. “Bottle it and we can leave.”
You nodded and ladled a smaller portion into a vial. You stored it in a case within you bag.
“I’ll hold onto it,” you told him.
You vanished the rest of the potion and walked out of the classroom. James picked the Saturday morning time, when you could’ve been in Hogsmeade. He could be the one to put away all the unused ingredients.
You found your friends sitting in the area outside of Honeydukes. Pandora caught you up on what you had missed so far: nothing much. James had been right about there being all day for Hogsmeade and brewing in the morning wasn’t that big a deal. However, you weren’t going to be the one to tell him that.
The boys decided it was time for lunch and led the group toward the Three Broomsticks. They were a decent amount ahead of you so you told the girls about the brewing session, including James’ cologne.
“Who wears cologne to potion brewing? It’s basically a study session. There’s no one to impress,” you complained.
“Maybe there is someone to impress,” Pandora said, winking at you.
“As if!”
“Probably didn’t want you going around telling everyone he smells bad,” Dorcas said – she had a point. “If what you say is true, then I wish all guys had the same taste. Avery’s is-” She shivered. “-horrendous. I have to brace myself every time he sits next to me in the common room. Which! has increased so much this term. And he doesn’t know what personal space is. Pandora, do you remember when I was sitting on the couch with you and Evan and he decided that there was space for one more? Ugh, I swear he was trying to pull me into his lap once he weaseled his way in.”
“Oh, yeah. That was uncomfortable. Like, I like my brother. But I was sitting a bit too close for comfort.”
“Avery’s the problem," Dorcas said, shaking her head. “What do I have to do to get him to see I’m not interested in the likes of him?” She sighed exasperatedly.
“Or any him,” you laughed.
Dorcas hit you with her shoulder. “Shut up.”
“Tell him you prefer blondes with choppy layers. And in Gryffindor red. Oh! Tell him you love a quidditch player and if he asks which team, you can tell him ‘Not yours.’”
“Shut up!” Dorcas whined playfully as she grabbed your arm, blushing furiously. “I hint at who I like once and this is how you treat me!”
“Hint? You practically spelled it out for me. And you ogle her every chance you get.”
“It’s not my fault she’s proper fit. I mean, come ooon, her arms? Fuck…”
“You need to freshen up before we risk running into her in the Broomsticks?” you teased.
She hit your arm again.
“I’m fine. Thank you.”
The next week passed without noticeable incident. It was the usual treatment from James, except slightly less. James was over his you-limit by the time he got back to his dorm. He didn’t want you to take up any more of his time after seeing you all day, so he didn’t prank you or anything that required planning. Snarky comments and insults were on full blast, though.
You agreed to meet in the library after classes on Friday. He had no quidditch practice since the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff teams booked the pitch; they had the weekend match. Once again, James had no problem finding in you the library. You had sat in the same spot. And once again, you had already gathered all the books the two of you could possibly need and then some by the time he arrived. As you reminded him, the sooner you started working, the sooner you’d be done.
You exchanged minimal comments throughout the hour, only notes and pointing out sections within the books that the other might need for their section. You were amazed at his ability to hold his tongue. It was probably the most pleasant interaction the two of you had ever had.
Saturday brought decent weather. The Slytherin section was distracted for most of the quidditch match, not paying attention nearly as much as they would have if their housemates were in the air. You rarely paid attention to quidditch even then. It was the atmosphere that you came for. You didn’t need to care about what got other people hyped to get high off of their energy.
Plus, today it didn’t matter who won. You’d end up at a party afterwards either way. Pandora had friends in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuffs let just about anyone in, as long as you weren’t going to tattle on the contraband they managed to get their hands on.
It wasn’t surprising that Pandora was more excited than any of your friends when Ravenclaw won. She grabbed Dorcas’ and your hands to drag you down to the pitch. She needed to talk to her friends. Once they figured out what time you should head up to the tower, you returned to the castle.
A few hours later, Pandora and Beatrice were leading the group up what felt like ten thousand and one stairs.
“They gotta stop hosting their parties in their common room,” Dorcas grumbled.
“Almost there!” Pandora called over her shoulder.
She was correct. Another one-fourth turn around the spiral and you were at the top. Pandora reached up for the eagle knocker and it gave you a riddle. Your group stared blankly at each other. Then the door opened by itself. Or so you thought until what looked like a second year peered out.
“Pandora?” she asked.
“Hi, Bethany!” Pandora said with a bright smile. “Can we come in?”
The younger girl returned her smile with a nod and let your group in. As with every party, you were met with music and the smell of butterbeer and something more alcoholic. And as always, your first stop was the drink table. You decided to play it safe with a plain butterbeer. Maybe you’d have something harder later, but right now you wanted a clear mind.
As you were taking your first sip and glancing around the room, an arm wrapped itself around your waist.
“Bit of a boring drink, sweetheart,” Barty said.
“If I start with troll vodka, I’ll be hurling before the fun really starts.”
“We can’t be having that.”
You looked up to smile at Barty and he was already looking at you, smirking. It was clear that he wasn’t leaving your side tonight. His hand didn’t leave your side as you moved to stand by Dorcas and some of her other friends. The spot also happened to have a clear view of her favorite Gryffindor. Marlene was just a group over.
When Barty did leave your side, it was when you had finished your drink and you asked him to grab you something.
“Troll vodka, right?”
“Mhmm.”
Beatrice gave you a sideways glance. “I thought you weren’t looking for anything serious.”
“I’m not?”
She tilted her cup in Barty’s direction.
“Looking serious to me.”
“It’s not,” you said flatly. “Do you see him talk to me when he’s not latching onto me?”
Beatrice and Dorcas exchanged a look as Barty returned, handing you your drink and wrapping a territorial arm around you. You rolled your eyes before murmuring thanks to Barty.
You stood by what you said. There were no strings with Barty. You were… party buddies. When you wanted someone to snog or to dance with, you could go to each other, knowing the other would say yes. And you wouldn’t be upset or mad or anything if he decided to go with someone else – the same applied to you for Barty.
Slowly, Barty moved from standing next to you to standing behind you, holding your hips. You were mid-sip when he dipped his head to ask if you wanted to dance. You lowered your drink to nod and then you slammed the rest. You moved over to where other students were dancing. As usual per these parties, the raunchier you danced, the closer to the middle you were.
You and Barty ended up dead center.
During your talking with friends, James and his friends showed up. If there was a party, those boys would be there. Unless it was being hosted by Slytherins in your common room; they weren’t welcome there. The boys mingled and drank, and Sirius got a group of people around him as he retold a story of nearly getting caught by Filch when he was out of bed after curfew – he was embellishing, of course. Peter and Remus disappeared to talk to some Ravenclaws that they were closer to.
James wasn’t like you. He didn’t start the night with a butterbeer. The boys had taken a shot in their dorm before coming to the party and now James was on his second drink. He didn’t really need the extra courage that the alcohol gave him, but he wasn’t shying away from it. He didn’t need to ask anyone to dance with him. He just moved into the dancing crowd when he didn’t feel like listening to Sirius’ story anymore.
Some girl started dancing closer to him. James didn’t know her name off the top of his head, but he knew that she was a seventh year Ravenclaw. With her, James got moved from the outskirts of the circle to a layer or two inside. He caught a glimpse of you and Barty in the middle. Every so often there were cheers and wolfwhistles.
You were enjoying yourself to say the least.
James couldn’t say the same. He looked away from you, tried to focus on the pretty girl in front of him. But then there’d be cheering again and he’d look at you and let his gaze linger longer than he meant to.
It didn’t feel right to him. Something was off with your dancing. He couldn’t exactly put his finger on it. Was it how Barty’s hands were feeling up your body? Was it how you were pressing your body against his? Was it just a bit too much for a school party?
James stopped trying to figure it out. The more he tried to figure it out, the more he was looking at you. In the end, he decided that it was because you were who you are. That’s why he didn’t like it. He wasn’t too big a fan of Barty’s but he also didn’t know Barty all that well.
After a while, you tapped out. You got yourself one more drink and sat near an open window that was attempting to cool the room off. You surveyed the party as you sipped. Barty was nowhere to be seen once you stopped dancing and didn’t indicate you wanted to kiss or do anything more. Younger students had started heading to bed. Some Ravenclaws were leading their partners to their dorms. Slowly, the number of people in the room dwindled and you joined those leaving.
There was one thing caught in your mind as you trekked down to the Slytherin Dungeons. You had seen James look at you while you were dancing several times, and it wasn’t a quick glance. You never made eye contact, but he was watching you.
Obviously other people watched you and Barty, but it was strange that you caught James doing it so much.
Sunday had you working on assignments you had put off. You didn’t do anything else after working on Potions with James in the library so you had a fair amount to do. At least you got to sleep in before you claimed a table in the common room. Regulus Black, Barty, Evan and Pandora joined you. You and Pandora laughed behind your hands as Barty grumbled to Regulus that he didn’t need to turn in an essay. He claimed his grade was fine and he was going to get an O on the upcoming exam.
“Just sit down and pretend to be productive,” Regulus retorted before mumbling, “Fucking degenerate.”
You got more homework done after lunch and you called it quits, heading back to your dorm for a nap. You relaxed in your room for a while and then you went back to the common room. Dorcas had come to find you so they had another player for Exploding Snap.
Your morning classes on Monday passed in a blur. It was just professors, lectures and turning in assignments. It wasn’t until Potions that anything amusing really happened.
James was already sitting at the station, leaning his head on his hand and looking like he was struggling to stay awake. It was the perfect opportunity to mess with him.
“Did you see something you liked Saturday?” you whispered in his left ear, the opposite side of where you sat.
He jerked wide away. He took a second to gather himself, processing where he was and what you had said to him.
“Evans was looking ravishing,” he said with a nod in Lily’s direction.
You hummed. “You weren’t staring at her though.”
“Who was I staring at then?”
“Me.” You grinned at him with a teasing look in your eye.
“Huh… I think you’re imagining things, L/N. You might have actually lost your mind.”
“I know what I saw.”
Rather than pay attention to what Professor Slughorn was saying during the lesson, you thought about the party. Some part of you didn’t mind that James had been staring. It wasn’t that you wanted him to be staring at you; you wanted him to have some kind of negative emotion. He was just jealous that someone was touching you, dancing with you, being with you in the ways that he wanted with Lily. How could it be that you got it while he didn’t?
You had another library session scheduled with James early in the week. You got some of it in classes, but since your comment, James was uncomfortable. When you were sat across from him in the library, you could feel it radiating off of him. He wouldn’t look at you. You suspected that he was trying to make up for staring at you during the party.
Every time you spoke, he jumped. He reread sections like three times before anything stuck, and you could tell that he was rereading pages. You didn’t say anything about it though. You still wanted to get a decent grade on this assignment and you wouldn’t get it if James was even less focused than he was now.
Don’t tick him off… It’s only thirty more minutes… you told yourself.
So you worked. You passed him notes to add to his section. He took them and added what was needed to the essay. It was a tense thirty minutes.
Thursday had you holed up in the library again. Sixth year wasn’t taking it easy on you. You had gone straight there after classes, barely left to get dinner, and then you were back at your table. No one bothered you and you liked it that way. You were exhausted from classes and endless assignments. When you nodded off into your book, you took that as a sign that you were done for the night. You packed up your things and left the library.
Despite all your yawning, you decided to take the long way back to the common room. A little bit of walking was good to clear your brain.
It practically happened in slow motion. James turned the corner. He must’ve come from quidditch practice since his hair was damp and he was wearing a tight athletic shirt. You understood what Dorcas meant by quidditch player’s arms. You raked your eyes over James before you could stop yourself, and judging by the smirk on his face when you reached the top, he saw.
Great.
“Did you see something you liked last night?” James teased when he sat down for Potions the next day.
You hummed. “If it was anyone but you… maybe.”
You weren’t going to deny that James had an attractive body. It didn’t matter though since the personality that came with it was horrendous. You had never really considered James to be attractive, despite seeing other girls drool over him. You didn’t see much of a point to considering if someone was attractive if you despised them.
You groggily dragged yourself up to the Potions classroom. James claimed it was the best time for the second brewing portion and you could meet up with your friends in Hogsmeade afterwards. Why he moved it up an hour when he was late to the first one was beyond you.
“Morning,” James said when you walked in at 7:59 a.m.
You blinked slowly with a blank expression. You slowly walked over to the station and put your stuff down.
“You’re early,” you grumbled.
“Sooner we start, sooner we finish. Right?”
You hummed and pulled out the instructions for the session’s potion. James had gathered most of the ingredients that you’d need. He reached under the cauldron and lit the fire. For the rest of the brewing, you exchanged minimal words. You brewed. You both took notes. You both marked areas of the essay portion of the project that would need to be reworked. After the plangetines dissolved, James rolled up his sleeves and lowered the flames of the fire so the potion could simmer. You didn’t let yourself look at his arms again. You wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction again.
James sighed and leaned back in his chair. “You can leave. I’ll sit here until it turns purple, note it and clean up.”
“And why would I trust you to do that?”
“Because I need to pass this class just as much as you.”
“You would tell Slughorn that I sabotaged it and left before it exploded or whatever you have planned.”
You stood up to put away the extra ingredients. You weren’t stupid. You needed to be here until the brewing was done to ensure that it was done. You took a deep breath. When you turned back to the station, James was standing.
“You don’t need to be so cynical. You know that, right?” he asked.
“I’m not cynical. I just know that I have to be cautious when I’m around someone as arrogant and selfish as you.”
“If you got off your throne, princess, you’d see that people like me have a lot to offer. Everything I’ve done here is based off merit. My father hasn’t paid an extra knut to Hogwarts to further me or get me any special treatment or whatever you think happens.”
“Maybe so, but that doesn’t give you the right to be so boorish.”
“Better boorish than haughty.”
“That implies I think I’m better than everyone,” you said with a shake of your head. “I know I’m not, but I do know that I’m better than you.”
James took a step toward you and you squared your shoulders and stood tall. You wouldn’t be intimidated by the fact he was taller and more physically fit than you. He stared at you for a moment. Then he grabbed your face and kissed you.
Of all the things you thought James would’ve done when he stepped toward you, that was not it. The surprise of it had you frozen for a few seconds. Then you shoved him off of you and stumbled backwards a few steps – away from the simmering potion, thankfully.
“What the fuck, Potter?” you spat. You stared at him, somewhat expecting an excuse or a harsh laugh. He just wiped his mouth. “Yeah, you can clean up,” you said before grabbing your bag and bolting out of the classroom.
***
You were eight and holding onto your mother’s hand as you walked into a large office building. You weren’t sure where you were or necessarily why. You knew it was something for your father’s work. And that meant you had to be on your best behavior, not that you were an exceptionally unruly child.
Your father shook hands with a man dressed in a suit. Your mother smiled at him and he led you into a large room filled with other people. The thing that caught your eye was a snack table. You tapped your mother’s arm and pointed to it when you got her attention.
“Go ahead,” she said.
You dropped her hand and went to get yourself something to eat. You figured it was going to be a rather boring afternoon. The least you could do was enjoy one of the pastries and a handful of sweets. When you turned around with your snacks, your parents had moved. You scanned the room looking for them when you saw a small group of kids. Most likely other children dragged along for whatever this was.
“Can I sit?” you asked.
“Depends,” a boy with glasses and dark hair said. “What do you know about quidditch?”
You furrowed your brows and frowned. “Brooms and three kinds of balls? My dad listens to the Kites.”
“Sit. James doesn’t control the table,” an older girl said, patting the top of the chair next to her.
You sat down.
“Kites aren’t terrible,” James said. “Not as good as the Broomfleet, but they could be worse. At least they aren’t the Quafflepunchers.”
“What’s wrong with the Quafflepunchers?” you asked.
“Besides their uniforms? They’re obnoxious. They don’t treat the game like the art that it is. Horrendous plays and style. I could go on.”
“Hm, don’t?” you said.
A few of the other kids laughed as James frowned, leaning back in his chair. A different girl changed the subject and everything seemed fine. Hogwarts came up at one point, and everyone was saying which house they wanted or thought they’d be in. You didn’t know. Maybe Ravenclaw.
James laughed. “I’ll be in Gryffindor. No question about it. Best of the houses, if you ask me.”
“I mean, I think we were asking everyone,” you said.
“So?”
“You didn’t need to say ‘if you ask me.’ That’s all.”
“I was stating my opinion.”
“I got that.”
There was a tense moment at the table.
Then the older girl said, “I go next year. Both my parents were in Hufflepuff so I assume I’ll be there too. What I’m excited for is my own wand!”
A younger boy said he couldn’t wait to go because his parents promised him his own owl and they weren’t budging on letting him get one sooner. Again, conversation continued and everything was fine.
James got up and went to the snack table. You followed, having finished all of your snacks a while ago.
“Are you following me?” he asked when he noticed you were standing next to him, looking over what treats were left.
“You think you’re as important as bonbons? Please, as if.”
James poured the rest of the plate of bonbons onto his paper plate.
“Hey!” you complained. “You don’t need all of those.”
“Who are you, my mother?”
“Can you share? I just said I wanted some.”
“No.”
“You’re that selfish? Geez.”
“I got here before you did. Deal with it.”
You reached for a pastry, but before you could grab it, James snatched.
“This is mine too.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” he said with a smile.
“Mum would call you a wild animal. No manners…”
James took a bite and then said, mouth full, “At leasbt I fen make frens.”
“I have friends!”
He swallowed. “Imaginary ones don’t count.”
He walked back to the table where you had been sitting. Your mother saw you and called your name. Apparently it was time to leave.
“I hope that wasn’t too boring for you,” your father said as you left the building.
You shrugged.
“One of the boys wasn’t nice,” you said.
“I hope you were,” your mother said.
“I tried to be.”
You really had tried, but James seemed to think his opinion was fact and that didn’t bode well with you. He took all the bonbons and essentially called you friendless. He was rude. Plain and simple. You hoped you’d never have to see him again.
When James left with his parents, they asked him if he behaved. Fleamont and Euphemia adored their son, but they were aware that his mouth needed some work. James nodded. He figured he’d never see you again so he didn’t need to talk about you to his parents. He didn’t like how you always had something negative to say after he said something. He may have taken the snacks you wanted, but you were rude.
As you both stewed on it, you both decided individually that if you did see the other ever again, you’d be sworn enemies. You didn’t need to associate with that kind of person.
***
You didn’t go to Hogsmeade. You sat in your dorm until dinner, and even then, you ate as quickly as you could. The girls asked what happened to meeting in Hogsmeade and you told them you weren’t feeling well. It wasn’t a lie. James had kissed you. James. You didn’t know what to do with that. You loathed each other; he only proved that he really was as rude, if not worse, as he was at eight. So why was he kissing you?
Another issue: there was a spark of something there. That brief kiss with James felt nothing like kissing Barty, nor that older Hufflepuff last year. What was that?
James took his time cleaning up the potions after it turned purple. He made sure to take detailed notes. He slowly walked up to Gryffindor Tower to put away his things before joining his friends in Hogsmeade. He had kissed you. You. He couldn’t explain why he did it, not really. You had just been standing there, insulting him and in a huff. When he took a step toward you, he meant to intimidate you. But then you straightened your back, put your shoulders back and stared up at him. It was… hot.
You had never been hot before. This was new. He couldn’t explain it. It was an impulse in the moment, and to make it all worse, he liked it. A lot. He couldn’t shake that feeling.
Throughout classes on Monday, you and James can’t look at each other. To everyone else, this isn’t anything new. To Slughorn, it’s a step backwards from the progress he thought the two of you were making with the project. Sure, you still seemed to hate each other, but there was talking. He’d heard from Madam Pince that when you were in the library together, you weren’t loud or fighting.
In Potions, you both had scooted your chairs to the edges of the station. You wanted as much space between you as you could. You’re grateful that it was a lecture rather than brewing. There was no way you’d be able to work on a potion with James. Not at that moment.
“Library after classes, right?” you asked, standing up but not leaving the classroom once you were dismissed.
James nodded. He didn’t look up to see you nod as well. Then you were gone.
“Mate, you ready? I’m starving,” Sirius said, standing next to him.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready.”
That class had been as close as he’d been to you since the kiss. Every shared class before Potions, and then after Potions, you made sure to be as far away as possible. It probably seemed normal to everyone else, but James knew that there was a new reason for it. At least you were still meeting in the library later.
You were sitting at your usual table when James got there. You already had everything out. He sat down next to you rather than across from you, as he’d done the previous times. You don’t look at him. You expected him to get to work. Sooner you start, sooner you finish was the motto of this project.
“About Friday” he started to say, but he stopped when your hand suddenly gripped his wrist.
“We are not talking about that in the library. Not now.”
“But we’re going to-”
“No.”
“Y/N,” he said, almost pleadingly.
“You’re a right git.” You stood up and shoved all of your stuff into your bag. “I think we have enough to get a P.”
You didn’t care that you got no work done. You thought you could handle an hour in the library with him. You should’ve been working on the project with a table in between you. You hadn’t been planning on him sitting next to you and wanting to talk about the fact that he kissed you.
You left the library. James hadn’t taken anything out so he got up and followed you right away. With his longer strides, it didn’t take him too long to find you.
“Wait!”
You didn’t slow down. That just meant James had to quicken his pace to catch up.
“Y/N!”
“What?” you spat as his hand grabbed your shoulder, forcing you to stop walking.
“I… I just…”
You raised your eyebrows and lowered your chin, silently telling him to get it out. Except he didn’t say anything. He lowered his head and captured your lips in a kiss. It was shorter than the first one. You stepped backwards.
“Fuck,” he breathed. He took a step back and ran a hand through his hair. Then he pointed at you. “We need to talk about that.”
“Your inability to not kiss someone?” you asked, ignoring the way your heart was pounding in your chest and your lips tingling.
“There’s…” He wagged his pointer finger at you.”There’s something there. And I don’t think we can ignore it.”
“What’s there is you not being able to keep it in your pants,” you said.
“No,” he said, shaking his head and taking a step toward you. “This is new. I haven’t felt this before.”
You scoffed. “What do you mean?”
“Please, don’t be dense. I’ve kissed someone to get my rocks off. Because I thought they’d taste good. You… It’s not that.”
“It’s an established hatred.”
“No. I thought it was, but… no.”
“No? Then pray tell, Potter, what is it?”
James should have given you an answer. That’s not what he did. He kissed you again. He brought his hand up to caress your jaw and he slowly tilted your head back. You couldn’t stop yourself. You kissed him back. There was a thud as his bag fell to the floor, and then you felt him lifting yours from your shoulder and letting it slide down more gently. His hand that wasn’t holding your face found your hip and moved your body closer to him. You didn’t know when you started holding onto the sides of his shirt. Apparently your subconscious knew that you shouldn’t actually touch him. James seemed to have no problem with touching you though.
When he pulled back, James rested his forehead on yours, breathing heavily and letting his hand fall from your face. You gave him a few seconds to see if he would say anything. He didn’t. He was staring into your eyes like he was searching for something. You turned your body to move out of his hold on your hip and grabbed your bag. Within seconds, you disappeared around a corner and James was left alone.
He ran a hand through his hair. You kissed him back this time, so why were you running away? You kissed him back so you must feel something too. He wasn’t imagining that there was something there. Well, he knew he wasn’t imagining it for himself, but he felt so sure that you felt something too. There was no way that this was only affecting him.
He stood in the corridor for a few minutes before deciding to go back to the library. He could get some of the work done without you. He owed you that much, since it was sort of his fault that you left the library.
There was a change in the air between you and James. It was palpable to just about everyone. Things had been bad between you before. Tense. Unfriendly. Frigid. This was different.
Before, you always knew how to act around James. You were always preparing something snarky to send back to him. Not now though. You were terrified that James was going to try to talk to you and end up kissing you again. And it was terrifying because part of you wanted him to.
James was trying to figure you out in a way he never had before. He wasn’t trying to figure out the best way to push your buttons. He was trying to understand your reactions to him kissing you. You hadn’t hexed him or slapped him. You left. He swore it was different than what went down with Knighton. It had to be. He also was trying to figure out how someone who used to make his blood boil on sight suddenly made him feel the need to hold you close.
“You good, Prongs?” Sirius asked when James walked into their dorm after lessons were over.
James had been sneaking glances at you all day since you gave him no chance to talk about what happened yesterday. Sirius wasn’t blind; he noticed that James wasn’t not paying in the same way as he usually was.
“Course. I’m brilliant. Never better,” he said, not fully meaning it, and Sirius could tell.
“You haven’t asked your dearest Evans out lately,” Sirius said as he adjusted how he was sitting on his bed. “I think I saw her eyeing you today. You might have a real shot if you do it right.”
James set his bag on top of his trunk and ran a hand through his messy hair.
“I don’t think I’m going to her out anymore.”
Remus looked up from where he sat at his desk. “You’re not?”
“No.”
“Why’s that?” Peter asked.
“She’s… uh, not the one, I guess. I only needed to be shot down a thousand and one times.”
“Uh-huh,” Sirius said. “So who is she?”
James quirked an eyebrow.
“This new girl you’ve got your eye on. Must be some kind of goddess if she has you dropping Evans.”
James took his glasses off to clean them with his shirt. The boys knew he was stalling; he rarely cleaned his glasses. Then he walked back across the room to the door.
With his hand on the knob, he said, “It’s Y/N.”
He left the room as quickly as he could. His friends didn’t waste a second jumping up and running out of the dorm. They stopped James before he reached the bottom of the stairs.
“Y/N? As in Y/N L/N?” Peter asked, slightly out of breath.
James nodded.
“Wha-When did this happen?” Remus asked.
“I’m not sure. It just did.”
“But you hated her?” Remus said.
“I kissed her. Three times,” James said, starting to push past his friends. “Excuse me.”
Then he fully moved past them and finished going down the stairs. While they followed him into the common room, they didn’t follow him out of it. They watched him go, each dumbstruck.
“He kissed her?” Peter asked.
“Three times?” Sirius added. “Who is he?”
“No way she kissed him back, right?” Remus finished.
You weren’t handling it any better. You sat on your bed, picking at your nails as you replayed every interaction you had with James, how horrible he was. And then you compared those memories with how he kissed you. How you liked it. You felt disgusted with yourself.
“Would you mind sitting in the common room?” Pandora asked.
You stopped picking at your nails. “Why?”
“You got bad energy. Can’t focus with it in here.”
Dorcas perked up, propping herself up on her elbows rather than trying to nap. Pandora was exceptionally gifted with reading people’s energy. So if she said you had bad energy, you usually had something to get off your chest.
“So what is it?” Dorcas asked you. “Did you get a detention we don’t know about?”
“No.” You knew that it was pointless to not tell them. They’d get it out of you anyways, or you’d have to sit in the common room, which was a far more public area than you wanted to be in. “It’s James.”
Pandora set her quill down. You said James, not Potter. She clarified anyways.
“As in James Potter?”
“Mhmm.”
“What did he do this time?” Dorcas asked with a sigh.
She and Pandora exchanged a knowing look. They thought he did something perfectly normal but you’d make it sound like he murdered kittens for fun.
“He kissed me.”
“He did what?” Pandora gasped as Dorcas sprung up from her bed and launched herself onto yours.
“And I think I liked it.”
Dorcas grabbed your face and held it close to hers. “James Potter, the boy whose throat you’ve had your wand at since first year, kissed you?”
“When?” Pandora asked.
You removed Dorcas’ hands from your face and scooted toward your headboard to make more space for her on your bed.
“Um, Saturday, and twice yesterday.”
“Saturday? That’s why you were in a funk?” Dorcas asked and you nodded.
“Wait, wait, wait, you said you think you liked it,” Pandora said, getting up and joining you and Dorcas on your bed. “Do you fancy James?”
“I… I don’t know.”
“How do you not know?”
“Pan, I’ve hated him since we were eight. It was always pure, unadulterated hate. And… I don’t know. Suddenly, he’s not horrible looking and he’s kissing me and it’s a hell of a lot better than Barty.”
Dorcas pressed her lips together before asking, “Maybe Barty’s a bad kisser?”
You shook your head. “No. He’s good. Trust me. That boy knows what he’s doing. I enjoy kissing him. But James… Potter… It’s better. I don’t know how to describe it.”
The other girls waited for you to continue, even though they both had endless questions.
“I… I don’t even know if he hates me anymore. Which I guess raises the question: why did he kiss me in the first place? He called my cynical and haughty literal seconds before he kissed me. Who does that?”
“And what about Lily Evans?” Pandora asked. “Hasn’t he been obsessed with her since forever?”
“I thought so,” Dorcas said.
“If he still fancies her, why is he kissing me?”
“Who’s to say he still does?” Pandora asked.
A moment of quiet passed.
“So what am I supposed to do now?”
Dorcas laughed. “Sweetie, you know we can’t really answer that for you.”
“I’d say you need to decide if you still hate him,” Pandora said. “And that’s not something we can advise on, not really.”
So you stewed on it. You had started hating James when you were eight. You probably hadn’t changed much between eight and eleven, but you had changed a fair amount between then and now. Was there a chance that James had too? Had James changed for everyone but you because of your vowed hatred? Was there a chance that if you stopped lingering on what you said when you were actually children that something else could be there?
Once again, there was an obvious change in the space between you and James. You were neutral toward each other. No scathing exchanges. No glares. Nothing. You entered classrooms at your usual times, and you didn’t seem to mind when James entered as well. You would go as far to say that you worked well together during your next Potions lesson. Slughorn smiled at that. While things were calm, you didn’t really talk all that much.
Until the end of Potions on Friday.
“We still need to finish the essay,” you said as you put your things away. “I know you have quidditch tomorrow, so I was thinking we could meet in the library on Sunday.”
“If… if we happen to lose, we could do tomorrow.” James looked up as you stood up. “Not that I’m planning or expecting to lose. But you never know… Hufflepuff’s seeker could catch the snitch before I score twenty times.”
“Yeah… okay.”
You turned to walk away. James’ chair scraped the ground as he pushed back from the station.
“You’ll be at the match?”
You turned back. “Yeah.”
“Good,” he said with a nod and small smile.
It wasn’t a smirk nor cocky grin. It was a genuine smile, like he couldn’t hear better news than the promise of you being at the match and possibly watching him.
For the first time since your first year, you truly paid attention to the match. You watched James as diligently as Dorcas watched Marlene. In the past, you would’ve never dreamed of telling James that he was actually as good at quidditch as he boasted. Now, you were debating it. His ego didn’t need the boost, but it could be an olive branch.
You wanted Hufflepuff to win. It wasn’t so that James would lose though. He’d be less surrounded by people if Gryffindor lost and you’d be able to find him easier, with less people watching. That part scared you a little. What were people going to think when they saw you and James being nice to each other? Not that your image mattered that much. It was more the gossip and whispers that Hogwarts was known for that bothered you.
To your dismay, Gryffindor won. That meant every Gryffindor and then some were going to be surrounding James. You walked with Dorcas down to the pitch. She had started talking with Marlene a little bit after classes and had more courage to talk to her. While she entered the herd of scarlet-clad students, you stayed on the side, a few steps away. You crossed your arms.
James had been easy enough to spot. He wasn’t the tallest of the team but he had a certain energy that was reflected in those congratulating him. Marlene was nearby. When he saw Dorcas with her, he looked around. You were usually around Dorcas; he had seen you standing with her in the stands. And there you were, just outside of everyone.
He shot a grin at you. You returned it with a tight-lipped smile and small, quick wave. James was about to start walking toward you, but you looked away before heading to the castle. His smile flickered. Then he turned his attention back to the people in front of him.
You worked on homework and played Exploding Snap with your friends. Slytherins didn’t go to Gryffindor parties.
James enjoyed the party. He did. He always did. He loved when the whole house was having a great time. There was butterbeer and snacks for everyone, and alcohol for the older students. People were playing games and dancing. It was loud and wonderful. James was usually in the middle of it all, taking shots with the team and being as loud and rambunctious as he pleased. But not this time. Instead, he was sat on one of the couches, nursing a butterbeer. He was still enjoying everything around him, but his mind was elsewhere.
It was lingering on your smile, your little wave. The fact that you had come down to the pitch. If you hated him for kissing you, you weren’t showing it. He could talk to you tomorrow.
James met you in the library after lunch. Same table as always. He walked up to the table, standing at the chair to your left.
“Can I sit here?” he asked.
You looked up from the essay section you were reading.
“Or I can sit over there, if you’d prefer,” he added.
“You can sit here,” you said.
He sat down and started taking his things out of his bag. He was prepared to work with you and focus solely on the project for Potions. At least he was sitting next to you and you weren’t grimacing at his presence.
“So… last week…” you said, not looking up from the essay.
James froze.
“You, um, you said there was something here?”
James stumbled over his words, “Oh, um, I-I, well, yes. I did. I did say that.”
“Do you know how to… describe it, um, without kissing me?” you asked.
You thumbed the corner of the parchment in front of you. It was better than looking at James at the moment. James’ face tinged red. He ran a hand through hair and chuckled nervously.
“I think there is,” he said. “I, um, I kissed you to be sure. And I’m sorry about that. It’s just, with everything between us… I wasn’t sure what I was feeling.”
“Okay… And you were feeling… what?”
“Well, it’s certainly not the hatred I was feeling for years,” he said with a soft chuckle.
“Clearly.”
“I don’t know when it changed exactly. It’s still a strong feeling, but… the opposite, I guess.”
“The opposite,” you repeated.
“Yeah.”
There was a moment of silence between you.
“So…” James flexed his hands on top of the table. “You did kiss me back…”
“Right. I did.”
“So…” James repeated, except this time he didn’t say anything more. But he did turn his head slightly to see your face. Another moment of silence. “Do you… feel… something?”
“It’s… not hatred.”
“Okay.”
You swallowed, still looking at the parchment in front of you.
“You played well yesterday,” you said, which most certainly didn’t help James understand where you stood.
“Thank? you?”
“I was going to tell you yesterday.”
“Why didn’t you?” James asked, thinking back to your little wave.
“You were-“ You gave your hand a small flourish in front of you. “-in the middle of it all.”
“I could’ve come to you.”
“Right, because Gryffindor’s star chaser exchanges pleasantries with his Slytherin nemesis.”
“Nemesis… Are we still that?” He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know if-“
You cut him off. It was one fluid motion, you rising slightly from your chair, putting your hand on his cheek to turn his face toward you and then leaning in to kiss him. James was almost immediate to kiss you back.
After a few seconds, you pulled back and he leaned in further, trying to continue. You sat down with your gaze straight ahead, feeling mortified. Had you really just initiated a kiss with James Potter?
You cleared your throat. “Sorry. Madam Pince will, um, kick us out if she sees.”
“Right, she would do that,” James said, adjusting how he was sitting.
Silence.
“I need to know. If it’s not hatred… what do you think this is?” James asked you.
“Confusing. It’s confusing.”
“Um. Okay… One second…”
James quickly stacked the few things he’d taken out and put them at the corner of the table. Then he leaned over you to do the same thing to your stuff. You watched him. He turned his chair to completely face you and then he turned your chair for you, with you still in it.
“Talk to me, sweetheart. What’s confusing about it?”
You let out a short laugh. He had to be joking, right?
“We’ve hated each other since the moment we met? And now we’re kissing?” You shook your head. “I can’t make it make sense.”
“Well, I feel strong emotions toward you and I think you feel strong emotions toward me. We both think the other is strikingly fit and kissing you isn’t like kissing anyone else. So, in my most humble opinion, I think we should see what happens.”
“Those strong emotions haven’t been positive, like ever. And so what if we both hit puberty? That happens. It happens to everyone.”
“Sweetheart, not everyone looks like you though.”
“Potter.”
“Sorry.”
“You say you want to see what happens. I don’t even know if I can like you. We’ve never been friends. If we… dated-” The word came out weird as your brain tried to comprehend the idea of you and James together. “-I’m almost positive it would go up in flames.”
James hummed. “There’s that pessimism.”
“Only when it comes to you.”
“What do I have to do to get you to take a chance with me?” He grinned at you while taking your hands in his. “To admit that maybe we were wrong about each other all this time?”
You took a minute to think. James kept his eyes on you, patiently waiting and calculating what else he could say to convince you that he really thought the two of you could make it work. He genuinely believed that if you both felt something, it was worth a shot. Plus, he figured, you already knew each other quite well from having to learn what ticked the other off.
“After we finish this project, admit that you’re not as important as bonbons and get me the bowl of them you stole from me.”
“They weren’t even that good,” James said.
“Well, I wouldn’t know that, now would I?”
He chuckled and then brought one of your hands to his lips.
summary: When you take a shower after a tiring day, Sergei comes back home to surprise you.
(1634 Word)
At Nova's (@novaawayne) request, I hope you like it, sweetie.
I’m quite shy about making requests, and I feel pretty rusty doing it myself, but hear me out...
The scene where Dmitri comes out of the ba
Sergei had been away for a long time. He had business as usual. You never questioned much. Somewhere you knew the answers, but you also knew it was better not to ask. You thought a hot shower would loosen you up and help you fall asleep faster as the longing seeped into every fiber of your being.
You turned off the lights in your penthouse apartment, small but with enough space for you. You light one or two candles to create a calmer atmosphere and escape the tiredness of the day. The smell of the candles instantly permeated the small apartment and the dim light lulled you into a little bit of a stupor.
You get rid of your clothes and turn the water to the ideal temperature. Finally, before entering the shower, you found one of your favorite playlists on your phone and turned it on. You let the sound of the music diffuse into the environment just like the scent of the candles. When the water was warm enough, you got in and let the tiredness of the day wash away. Once you were satisfied that you were sufficiently soaked, you lathered yourself up. You let the vanilla and cinnamon flavored shower gel envelop your entire body. You tried to console yourself with the thought that Sergei had touched you wherever the lather reached.
You continued to cover yourself in bubbles until the thoughts became more and more desperate, until the longing filled your whole soul and reached your core. Desperate, you slid your hand down your body and began to rub yourself with your fingers. You accelerated your movements as the pressure became insufficient. Finally you gave up when a moan of frustration escaped your lips. You used to be able to satisfy yourself. Then you met him and all the things he could do to your body. After Sergei, nothing could ever replace him.
You took a deep breath and decided to sleep tonight in disappointment. You rinsed your whole body one last time with warm water and turned off the water. You decided that the best thing to do was to wrap yourself in a bathrobe and spend a girly girl night in bed watching 'Sex and the City'
As soon as you opened the shower door and stepped out, you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist. As your scream escaped your lips at the powerful sensation, your body betrayed you by the familiar warmth and instantly began to relax. You stopped screaming at the sound of laughter behind you and the warmth of breath on the back of your neck. A pair of full lips pressed a faint kiss to his neck.
“I'm sorry to scare you, my love, but I miss you so much.”
As soon as you heard Sergei's voice, you left his arms and immediately turned around to meet his eyes. Your breathing became ragged as you felt his blue eyes on you again. Your eyes welled up and you didn't want him to see you like this, so you wrapped your hands around his neck and buried your face in his strong body.
"Hey севгилим, won't you let me see your beautiful eyes?”
You let out a deep sigh, still holding on to Sergei's strong grip. You buried your face in his chest, feeling it rise and fall with each breath. The rhythmic sound of his heartbeat brought you back to peace. “Cевгилим, I heard the moans coming out of your beautiful little mouth.” She sighed with disappointment. “Were you touching yourself while I was gone…” Shaking her head no, you pulled back to meet your eyes.
“Sergei…”, your heart, filled with longing and need, couldn't form a coherent sentence. More like a whimper escaped your lips. “Y/N, севгилим,” he took a deep breath and re-established eye contact. “We talked about this.” He moistened his lips with his tongue, as if he couldn't decide exactly what to say or do. “We agreed that you would wait for me, didn't we?” His voice was not angry or resentful. Every word came out of his lips with great care. You nodded quickly in agreement. “I miss you, I know…” he interrupted with urgency. You were in no position to continue explaining yourself when his tongue slid into your mouth.
Finally he pulled back to let you breathe. After his eyes lingered on your lips for a while longer, he made eye contact again. “I know, I know, my dear.” He leaned in again for a small kiss. Then he continued. “But I thought we agreed on this, no self-pleasuring without me.” He waited a moment to make sure you could understand his words. “And there must be some punishment for breaking the forbidden, right?”
You gasped with excitement and anticipation. Your heartbeat quickened. “Anyway, I couldn't do it without you, these,” waving his fingers in the air, ”were a disappointment.” He couldn't hold back his laughter at your words. “I missed you, Sergei,” you said, leaning in closer after accompanying his laughter.
He knew it, but your confession reawakened more primal feelings in him. His breathing changed for an instant. You could feel the intensity in their flow towards you, as evidenced by the amber color of their eyes. You could bring out the animal in Sergei. And you were always proud of it. The so-called “hunter” turned into a lion when he was with you. Your lion.
"Y/N" Sergei made a sound mixed with a growl. He could feel his hands trembling. He could feel the tiny ants moving in his stomach.
Finally, he took a few steps back and leaned himself against the sink. With his hand he pulled you towards him. Step by step you let the towel you were wrapped in slip from your body as you approached him.
Sergei held his breath, watching your skin being exposed second by second. He was mesmerized by your perky breasts, which were not too small.
A mischievous smile appeared on your face as your towel fell completely to the floor. “Should I be afraid, Mr. Kravinoff?” you asked coyly when Sergei gave a grunt mixed with a growl.
Sergei leaned down and kissed your lips. “Maybe you should be a little scared.”
When Sergei was about to pull back, you put your arms around his neck and pulled him back to you. Both of you were making unexpected moves at an unexpected moment.
Your hands ran through your lover's hair while one of his hands had already found his chest.
Sergei pulled back and this time began to run his lips over the fully exposed breasts. At first he ran his lips over the beginning of the breasts, where they began to rise slightly. Then, when this was too little, he supported your breasts from below with his hands and raised the tips higher.
He wasted no time in cupping the tips of her breasts with his lips as his eyes glowed with the pink he saw on your nipples.
His eyes glowed with the pinkness he saw at the tips of her breasts and he wasted no time in grasping the nipples with his lips.
You were trying to stop your moans with Sergei's every movement.
Your biggest moan came when Sergei crushed your nipples with his teeth. “Shh, beautiful, you have to be quiet, we don't want to wake the neighbors.” You had no idea how to be calm and quiet. Sergei was all over you.
Sergei's fingers moved to your waist. His lips trailed warm kisses down to your crotch.
He stepped back for a few seconds as if he wanted to memorize every detail of her body. And he studied every inch of her eyes. It wasn't the first time you were naked in front of him. But you blushed every time he looked at you like that. Finally, he decided that he had examined you enough and said “okay, it's time for us to be equal” and took off first his t-shirt and then his boxers and pants.
When he leaned in to kiss you, you pulled back. When he looked at you confused, you bent down. As he looked at you with disbelieving eyes, you moistened your lips with your tongue and reached for your favorite dessert. Sergi's eyes had both pride and disbelief in them, but it didn't last a minute. He was already saying something incoherent as you started to lick your man.
"Oh, there's a good fuckin' girl," he groaned, collecting whatever hair he could in a makeshift ponytail; looking down his nose to watch you. His cock was overwhelming, but you were determined to earn the pleasure he would surely bring; mouthing around his cockhead, using one hand to pump what didn't fit, the other alternating between holding his hairy thigh for balance and cradling his balls.
A few times, you held his eyes with yours as you removed his cock with a pop; licking his shaft up and down like it was a popsicle on the Fourth of July. His jaw would clench each time, sputtering his breath. His veins were pulsing, prominent under the skin; making your cunt contract as his throat bobbed as he swallowed harshly, groaning.
“Come here before I lose my mind,” he said, pulling you to your feet.
He chuckled and reached down to help you up, instantly searing you in a wet, messy kiss as he backed you into the sink counter; tasting himself on your tongue. It was erotic, something you were vastly not used to - no man ever being okay with you kissing them after having their dicks in your mouth.
Except your wild lion.
And you knew that your lion was hungry and this was just a preparation for dinner.
Hi! Would you ever consider do anything that was Aaron Taylor Johnson x reader? (his celeb self I mean.) Maybe something like they’re working on a movie together (y/n is younger) and get to be friends and then something transpires between them? Ahh!!
Aaron Taylor-Johnson x Fem!Reader (Young Actress Reader - Request)
MY MASTERLIST! - EVENTS! - HOME!
This is an original story and may not be copied or translated into another language without permission!
warning: claustrophobia, age difference, dirty language, nickname, divorce, coworker, action scene, car accident, creep, expectation.
summary: You're doing test shoots for action scenes with the lead of your new movie. You always thought you were like a sister to her until you find out that he is now a single man.
(2632 word)
Hope you like it sweetie, I try the write as soon as possible :) @smallmarvel
It was one of the new weeks in your new project. The reading rehearsals had been over for a few days. But post-production had taken a long time. Or maybe it's because it's your biggest project and you've never experienced this kind of crew and work discipline before.
The cast had been in camp for months and all of them had been working out constantly to change their bodies for their roles. In the last days you have been working on your choreography. Your screen time would be about fifteen to twenty minutes, but the opportunity to work with such a cast made it all worthwhile.
You had two fight scenes, one big and one small. Although it wouldn't be right to call them both fights. Generally the bad guys were chasing you and our hero was there for you, but there were still moves you had to memorize.
When you first read the script, you thought that since it was an escape scene, it wouldn't challenge you and you would just run. But it wasn't like that. You had to jump, jump, sometimes crawl and even fight one-on-one. To make the scene more realistic, you were choreographed to fight for your life. At first you hated it, but once you learned the moves and started doing them much faster, you started to enjoy it.
Today was the day of the test shoot.
It was the first time you and the rest of the crew would act out the scenes together. Of course you had all met each other. You had rehearsed readings, the director had organized some nights for you all to get along better. One of them was a movie night where you watched some of the old crappy horror movies. It was a milestone day when you couldn't be afraid to laugh and you started to feel comfortable around each other as a team. Another night was a silent movie night. It was through events like these that you formed good friendships.
Aside from being friends with the crew and spending time together, today was the first day you were going to be in front of the camera. And it was for the fight scene. You were the last name in the cast and you were the least famous of them all. In direct proportion to that, you were not the main female character of the movie, but all your scenes were with the hero of the movie, the leading male character. Aaron Taylor-Johnson, who is going to save you from the bad guys in today's the test shoot.
Aaron was a very funny and kind man. He would come to your workouts to make you feel comfortable, give you feedback and often praise you on how well you were doing. In addition to these interactions, he was usually quiet on set. He would share a laugh with certain people, but he was very kind to the whole set and the staff. A true English gentleman.
When you arrived on set, you put on something comfortable. Leggings, a sports bra that covers your breasts and makes the whole action scene easier for you, and a loose t-shirt with the logo of your favorite band. Since it was a test shoot, you were wearing air force sneakers. You were determined to at least make this test as comfortable as possible until the main shoot.
Aaron came into the field right behind you. He was similarly dressed in comfortable clothes. He arrived in gray sweatpants and a basic t-shirt. They rocked back and forth with their hands in their pockets, talking to the director about the scene. You'd have to be blind not to notice the movement of his muscles with each sway…You reminded yourself that you were a married man and tried to focus on your scene.
After he finished talking to the director, he came up to you and said, “Good morning, baby.” He pulled you into a hug. You knew he gave you that nickname because of the age difference. You reminded yourself that there was nothing to be excited about and accepted his hug.
When he pulled back, with an energetic smile on his face, he asked, “Are you ready for today?” His smile must have been contagious because you were smiling back. “As much as I can,” you replied, shaking your legs - in a pose as if you were about to run a marathon.
His grin was still on his face. “We'll try not to push you too hard today, but we still want to go through all the scenes. But if there's any scene or movement that makes you uncomfortable, we'll definitely stop shooting,” he explained with great care. You had to admit that you were very lucky to be working with someone so kind and understanding. “Thanks Aaron, I really appreciate it, but I don't think we'll have any problems, we've been rehearsing these moves for weeks.” You reassured him. “Honey, the shot might feel different though, remember to stop if you have trouble.” He insisted. “I promise I will stop the scene if it feels uncomfortable,” you reassured him. All the while trying not to get hung up on the new nickname...
The first test shoot went quite well. The more complicated scene was next, but you decided to do it tomorrow. Or rather your director decided so. This decision was made because he wanted to shoot tomorrow with full make-up and clothes. Because it is necessary to decide whether the costumes in the movie will cause any problems in the scene and choreography and what precautions should be taken if necessary. So tomorrow you will enter the set as if you are shooting the first scene of the movie. Lights, camera, makeup, hair, costume… Everything you can think of will be prepared. To be honest, you're very excited about it.
But this was tomorrow's subject, today's subject and a new movie night. The leading lady of your movie had invited everyone who was doing a test shoot today to a movie night at her house because her house was quite close to the set.
You decided to change at the set before going back to the hotel and go with Aaron. Because he had arrived by car and you didn't want to waste time looking for a taxi.
The ride was peacefully silent until the sound of Aaron's cell phone connected to the car filled the air. “Excuse me, this is important. If you don't mind-” As soon as I saw the word lawyer appear on the screen, I said, ”No, no, please. I don't mind at all.”
When he picked up the phone, the loud, booming voice of the lawyer on the other end filled the car. “Hey, buddy, how you doing?” Aaron's fingers were turning white as he gripped the steering wheel. His grip on the steering wheel was tighter than it had been since he'd called the lawyer. “Please give me some good news Kev,” his lawyer, Kev - you probably think it was Kevin - noticed Aaron's nervousness and started to chuckle. “Relax man, you're a single man now. Sam accepted the deal and signed all the papers. Congratulations man, enjoy your new life.” Aaron let out a deep breath at the sound of the phone hanging up. “I'm sorry this is really-” before you could finish the sentence Aaron's laughter filled the car and you heard him say something like 'oh shit' but you didn't dwell on it. His happiness was contagious and the awkward silence in the car was gone.
You couldn't say the same about movie night, though. They had chosen a really terrible movie this time and you were constantly screaming and disturbing the whole crew. One or two people who were really enjoying the movie were a bit annoyed by this, but the crew was having a lot of fun with your reactions.
When the lead role was finally placed alive in the coffin, you felt your breath catch in your throat. “I think I-” the incoherent words came out so quietly that no one even realized you were about to have an attack of claustrophobia. As soon as you started to fidget on the couch, an arm grabbed you around the waist and pulled you towards him. You couldn't see who it was in the dark room. With one hand still on your waist, he grabbed your neck with his free hand and held you against his chest. You immediately inhaled the familiar scent. You relaxed yourself in the safety of the warmth. “Shh, calm down doll, I'm here.” His low voice and the sound of him moving around your waist were enough to calm your nerves. But his lips barely touching your ear sent a shiver down your spine. You were about to remind yourself that this was wrong when you remembered that he was now a single man.
When you arrived on set, you went straight to your trailer for makeup. While you were lost in the memories of yesterday, your makeup was finished and your hair was being done.
Shortly after the movie ended, you and Aaron said goodbye to your friends and left. You were staying in the same hotel, so you went on the car ride together again. He made fun of you a little during the ride and finally you agreed to watch a comedy movie together. When you arrived at the hotel, he insisted on escorting you to your room even though your rooms were not on the same floor.
After opening the door to your room, you wished each other good night. Before you parted, you shared another hug. It was the longest hug you had ever shared. Sure, it was a minute hug, but it usually lasted no more than a few seconds and no, every time you hugged Aaron you didn't calculate how long it lasted. “Good night, baby,” he whispered in your ear as his hand circled your back. Then he left after leaving a vague kiss on your burn.
While your hair was being done, you were drowning in memories. You told yourself you were exaggerating, after all, he always called you baby. You were like his little brother, that's what you had been telling yourself for weeks, except you didn't know then that he was about to get divorced and that he was now a single man. Yes, there was an age difference, but it wasn't twenty years. You were just a couple years younger.
You came out of your daydream with Aaron's voice. “Hello baby,” he winked at your image in the mirror. ‘Good morning Aaron,’ you smiled. When you were called from inside to put on your costumes, you waved “See you in a minute” and headed towards the cabin.
After changing your clothes, you took one last look at your image in the mirror and went to the set area. It wasn't a superhero movie so there were no weird tights and uncomfortable costumes. It was a chase scene where you would be chased by the 'bad guys' after you left work and then it would take place on the streets of the city. He was wearing tight fabric pants, a white shirt and stilettos. When the scene first started you would run in heels. Then you could switch to sneakers because they would not be visible in the camera angles. But neither the shoes nor the shirt made you unhappy. The only thing that bothered you was the lacy bra. You were looking for the comfort of your sports bra from the day before.
On the director's orders, you started the test shoot. You came out of your model building, realized you were being followed while walking down the street and jumped into the first taxi you saw. The team chasing you rear-ends your taxi with the car they are driving and you get stuck in the vehicle. At this moment, Aaron arrives and performs the fight scene with the men chasing you. After he rescues you from your trapped position, you take him by the hand and run together. At this point you were planning to change your shoes but you didn't want to stop shooting and you wondered how long you could go on.
After all, it was a test shoot. If you failed, you wouldn't try something like this next time. As you ran hand in hand, your heel caught on some fake stones. As Aaron checked you were okay, you gave him a sign that you could continue. As you continued your scene, you realized that the shoe was hurting you now. And the more you stepped, the more it hurt. But you were still shooting and you didn't want to give up on the first try.
You squeezed the hand that Aaron was holding. Immediately he turned to you and a low whimper of “Aaron,” escaped your lips. He immediately checked you with his eyes and tried to figure out what was wrong. “I don't think I can go on in these heels much longer,” As he was about to signal the director to stop the scene, he shook his hand once more and said, “Please don't stop the scene, we are almost finished. I don't want it to be cut because of me.” As you were quickly looking for a solution, the camera was coming towards you from the backstage area.
As you wondered what to do, you felt yourself being swept off your feet. As you let out a little scream of surprise, you could tell that your director was enjoying the moment and was pleased with the image that was being captured on camera. Aaron embraced you bridal style. And he was running towards the area where your final scene would take place. “What are you doing!” you whispered after your astonishment had subsided a little. “I couldn't let you writhe in pain Y/N,” she said, giving you an angry look. “Oh, I thought you would enjoy watching me writhe in pain…” you snapped.
When you got to where you needed to be, he took you off his lap and you did the moves you had memorized for your scene. With the fake explosion planned on the set, you ducked down and crawled together to where you were supposed to hide. The camera went back to filming the extras fighting. You had time to lie down for a few minutes.
You tried to forget the pain in your feet as you lay on your back where you were crawling. You were a little stressed by the narrow space you were in, but your breathing was regular.
As the shouting and explosions continued in the background, Aaron crawled to where you were. Since you had decided to lie on your back, he was now standing over you, leaning on his elbows. He never took his eyes off your eyes for a moment. “I enjoy you squirming Y/N” he said, and you realized that he had returned to the previous conversation. “But I'll make sure it won't be in pain.” Your breath began to betray you as his gaze slid to your lips. He leaned in even more, closing the distance between you a little more. “But I will also show you that we are away from the cameras,” his words sent a shiver down your spine and a warmth to your core.
He immediately noticed when you involuntarily squeezed your legs together. He leaned down until his lips touched your earlobe before leaving his spot for his scene. “I knew you were made for me, baby.” He said. And he left his location to continue shooting. Leaving you there to daydream with all your wetness and anticipation.
eventual james potter x fem!reader; inevitable angst and annoyance as james slowly matures over his time at hogwarts. slowburn. total word count: 56.3K
NOW, dear readers and followers, I want to share a fanfiction I read in one sitting yesterday.
The incredibly talented @marauroon has woven this story together with great skill.
The story consists of seven chapters, each describing a year at Hogwarts. As you read each chapter/year, you grow with the characters. You fall in love, you hate, you drown in homework stress, and you experience all the ups and downs of friendship.
I never imagined this story would draw me in so much. I thought I'd read it to pass some time, but now I can't get it out of my head, and I think I'll read it again from the beginning.
The childhood excitement and arrogance of the early years leave a sweet smile on my face, but especially after the fifth chapter, the fifth year—look, I can't describe it, you have to read it ! Each year is so appropriate for that age. We experience childhood, then adolescence. Priorities and worries change, and it's all so natural—so typical of that age. Even though the last two chapters / last two years are amazing, my heart is still in the sixth chapter/sixth year :))
YOU HAVE TO READ IT. I DON'T KNOW HOW ELSE TO PRAISE IT!!
I'm not sure if this counts as a mini spoiler, but even though the reader is a Gryffindor, being in the Gryffindor common room gave me peace. And yes, as a fiery Slytherin. THIS PERSON KNOWS THEIR STUFF!!
P.S. Sorry, but I think you'll be seeing me in your wish list for a while because I'm currently experiencing the excitement of discovering an amazing author.
Series Summary: You have been best friends with the Marauders since you were in nappies, and you've loved James Potter for just as long. However, when he start dating his long-time crush Lily Evans everything is different now.
Summary: Because of an incident with Snape, feelings between you, James, and Sirius become even more complicated than they were.
Genre: Fluff, angsty
Warnings: friends to lovers, unrequited love, misunderstanding trope, violence, harassment, Snape is a little shit, James is oblivious, James x Lily, James is jealous, MESSY (this should always be a warning lol), conflicting emotions
ONE / TWO / 3 / 4
Charms class is usually your favorite class. It's your favorite because for seven years, you've had Charms with James. You can still remember how, knowing you were nervous for your first class in first year, James had enchanted a paper crane, a smiley face with the words; "you're amazing," scribbled on the inside. He'd sent you a wink from across the room and the class had gone smoothly. That was the moment you realized something was different.
The moment you started loving him.
This year, Lily Evans is in your class too. Now, the seat next to James that was once engraved as yours is hers. And as some form of torture, you're sitting at a nearby desk, watching them smile and share love sick giggles, which each feels like a dagger to your heart.
"Y'a know, you should just consider what I have to say," Severus Snape murmurs from beside you, nails scratching the wood of his desk. His voice is low, sharp. His hair hangs oily over his cheekbone, and he's watching James and Lily like a snake waiting to strike. "You want James, and I want Lily. I don't understand what you don't understand, Y/l/n?"
"Shut up," you mutter, returning to read the lesson as you pull your book closer to you, flipping a page. You'd been partnered with Snape this time around, which was worse than torture.
Severus just leans closer, his breath against your neck. "I guarantee you, the moment lover-boy over there," he nods towards James, "finds out you and I are dating, he'll be falling all over himself to chase you instead of Lily. It's pathetic, really, how quickly he'd abandon whatever fairytale he thinks he's built with her for a shot at having you."
You recoil inside, his words making you sick, but don't give him the satisfaction of a full reaction. You don't even look at him when you say, "You shouldn't talk about things you don't know, Snape. It makes you look stupid."
Severus laughs, low and bitter. He rambles; "Is that so? Well, I'm not as stupid as you, Y/l/n. At least I'm not the one living in some fantasy where I think no one loves me. Oh poor Y/n, so alone. You're too blind to see the truth." He leans in, his lips so close to your ear you shiver, "I see the truth. How you've got those two blood-traitors wrapped around your little finger. And yeah, I don't know why. You're nothing special."
You freeze, tensing up. Does he mean Sirius? "You're a liar," you rasp.
Then his hand latches onto your arm. Tight. Unrelenting. He yanks you closer. His hold on you is so hard it's painful. He looks angry. Angrier than you've ever seen him. "I am not a liar. You must really be stupider than you look," he hisses.
You narrow your eyes, pushing him away. "You're hurting me. Let me go," you demand, slipping a little from the stool you're sitting on as you yank away from him.
And then, the stool titters backwards, and you fall.
Your head hits the floor, disoriented from the fall, and you gasp as you sit up, staring up as Severus hits the ground as well, blood pouring from his nose. A heavy book floats momentarily in the air before crashing onto his hand with a sickening thud.
He yelps in pain.
You look around. No one understands what just happened.
"Y/n!" Lily exclaims. She's suddenly kneeling at your side. "What happened?" Her gaze darts from you to Severus. There's something odd in her gaze—like some distant concern for him but she pushes it down.
You wonder if, in some other reality where she wasn't dating James and Snape wasn't such a prick, she might have run to him instead.
James stands behind her, his fists clenched. His ears are pinker, and he looks furious. He's glaring at Severus and your stomach churn. You lift your hand and touch where your head is throbbing. Your gaze follows his arm before he can hide it in his robe.
You swear you saw his wand.
Did he enchanted the book that had taken Severus down with you? Did he hurt him on purpose? He doesn't even look sorry. You look at Severus again. You wince as he smiles eerily through bloodied teeth, as if he'd planned this and somehow won.
Your head spins.
Later, you sit quietly in a hospital bed, your spoon swirling in untouched pudding as you stare at the old tiled floor. Sirius sits up from the bed beside you, still recovering from his injury. He seems surprised to see you back so soon.
"What's with the ice?" he asks casually. "Did ya miss me that much?" His grin fades when he notices your expression. You look confused, maybe. Sad. Angry? He isn't exactly sure.
"I bumped my head," you whisper.
"Oh?" He leans in. "How'd that happen?"
You hesitate, not wanting him to worry. "I tripped in the hallway because of my shoelaces."
Sirius chuckles, and raises an eyebrow. "Or me thinks you just subconsciously want to spend more time with me."
You don't respond, but you crack a small smile. You look up at him and he catches the smile instantly.
"Aha!" he exclaims, pointing. "I love that smile."
You pause.
"Yeah?"
"Of course I do. It's yours."
Your cheeks heat up like they're on fire. You're certain you're about to explode as Sirius keeps smiling at you in ways that confuse every feeling you've known. However, the feeling quickly disappears when James rushes in. He's alone and he looks concerned.
"Is your head okay?" he asks urgently, standing way too close as he cups your cheeks, inspecting your head. You stare at him, unsure how to respond to his worry.
"Um, yeah," you nod, your voice squeaky, glancing nervously at Sirius. "Charms isn’t over yet. What are you doing here?"
James frowns, opening his mouth to explain but the arrival of another student interrupts you. It's Severus. He's groaning and holding his hand, which is still bleeding. The one that had been mangled by the book. He'd refused to walk to the Hospital Wing with you, but it seems his injury warranted a trip anyways. Madame Pomfrey rushes over to him the moment she sees his hand and ushers him to his own bed on the opposite side of the room.
"Bloody Hell, I don't care if Charms isn't over. I wanted to see you." James mutters, his thumb stroking across your cheek.
"What happened to that wanker?" Sirius asks casually, looking toward Severus, the spoon of his own pudding dangling from his mouth.
"I crushed his hand with a book," James says in a whisper, his gaze hard.
Your heart drops. "James!" you reprimand him, your voice squeaky again.
He'd actually been the one to do it.
"You did?" Sirius half-whispers back. He looks confused and slightly proud.
You grab James's arm, turning him to look at you again. "Why? Why would you do a thing like that?!" you demand, sounding stern and James's hazel eyes soften. He brushes your hair gently from your forehead, brushing his thumb on your eyebrow now. "I saw him, Bug. He hurt you. He put his hands on you."
"What?" Sirius exclaims, narrowing his gaze now. "Y/n said she tripped."
"Nah, that blimey git was being a real prick. I had to teach him a lesson," James snorts, looking at Sirius and he looks proud of himself now.
Sirius looks a little hurt, his attention on you now. "Why would you lie to me about something like that?" he asks seriously.
"I didn't want to tell you," you mutter. Severus's previous words ring in your ears.
"And why the fuck not?" Sirius demands. He sounds more urgent now and James looks confused by the sudden shift in mood.
"It doesn't matter, I'm fine. It didn't need to be mentioned because it wasn't a big deal and you don't need to be so worried. Both of you." You stand up and James gives you some space.
Sirius shakes his head and tries to stand as well until Madame Pomfrey's voice interrupts his plans; "Mister Black, you stay in that bed." Sirius ignores her and tries to follow you out as James does the same.
"Sirius, you should—" James whispers, turning to stop him.
"Y/n, wait," Sirius calls but you've disappeared. Sirius pauses, feeling James's hand on his shoulder. James sends his best friend a sympathetic smile.
"I'll talk to her," James says and motions towards the hospital bed. "Just focus on getting better, okay? She'll be alright. I'll make sure she is." Sirius's jaw clenches but he nods, he knows running after you isn't the best thing to do.
Plus, you'll listen to James more than him.
Outside in the hall, James runs after you, catching your arm. "Hey, Bug, please. Can you hear me out?"
You turn, looking more than a little annoyed at him. "You really hurt Snape. I was fine, you didn't need to make such a fuss. What did Lily say?"
James laughs. "Bollocks, he was being a real shit," he says as he walks closer, his hand still on your arm. "I did what I did to protect you. I don't care what Lily thought, not in that moment."
You look at him, your heart pounding in your chest. "Protect me? I'm not yours to protect."
James frowns, his hand faltering on your arm. "What? You're my best friend," he justifies. Your heart feels heavy and you can't tell if he truly doesn't understand what he's saying or he's messing with you. He drops your arm and reaches for your cheek, moving closer, and you don't dare push him away.
"I adore you," he whispers, leaning over you as he plays with a strand of your hair. He's so close. Your eyelids flutter. James barely processes it himself as he leans in, his lips so close to yours. He isn't thinking. This just feels—right.
"You're my best friend and I—" he repeats, eyelids closing as he almost kisses you.
You turn your head, your palms pushing on his chest as you catch your breath. "Yeah. I know I am. I'm your best friend, Jamie, not your girlfriend. Lily is. You should remember that," you say, your voice low, watching his eyes open and he looks ashamed. He pulls away, blushing. It breaks your heart to push him away but you have to.
For Lily's sake. She deserves better than whatever this is.
"I- I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—" he starts, looking around awkwardly.
You nod, a horrible pit forming in your stomach. "Yeah. I know. It's okay," you say.
"It didn't mean anything," James adds, almost in a panic, and he says the words as if he's trying to believe them himself. As if he knows he's lying. But you believe them and you feel like crying.
You back up further against the wall and nod, biting your cheek. "I know, James. I won't tell Lily. Promise."
For a while now, I haven't been able to update any sections, nor have I been able to log in and read the content I've tagged and followed. All that aside, I haven't even had time to log into the platform for weeks, to be honest.
Unfortunately, my personal life and work schedule have been very busy—though, from my perspective, these were very valuable and beautiful days. However, that doesn't change the fact that I've been away from you all.
I've returned to the country I currently live in, and it doesn't look like I'll have many visits or trips ahead of me for a while. So, I'll be around here.
I've missed you all so much.
My priority is to read all the notifications that came in while I was away, and I'm proud to say there are quite a few.
After that, I'll get back to the stories as soon as possible.
Hey sweetie, as news about the new series comes in, my excitement is reaching fever pitch. And I think this is the first time in my life that I'll be looking forward to a James Potter story.
Before Lily and James' relationship began, the marauders could make a bet among themselves. Within a certain period of time (it could also be a specific event, such as a deadline), would James be able to charm a Slytherin girl and kiss her?
If we're talking about marauders, this Slytherin girl might have a last name starting with 28—just to make things even more impossible :D
Throughout this process, the reader might start to develop feelings for James and then find out after the kiss that it was all just a bet. (I admit I've been watching too many classic teen movies lately)
Any happy or unhappy ending is acceptable to me.
If you like the idea and writing it is okay with you, I'm eagerly awaiting it.
Cora ❤︎ I have finished this! I'm not the most happy with the ending? It feels rushed to me, but I also cannot write conversation for the life of me today so it is what it is.
Hope y'all enjoy ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎
Getting a girl
James Potter x Flint!reader
5.2k words
cw: fluff, angst, unhappy ending
It was only 8:30 p.m. when James tucked himself into bed. He was feeling defeated.
After dinner, he had gone with just about everyone else in his year outside to one of the courtyards to enjoy the warm evening air. He had been feeling good. Morning practice had felt rewarding and classes were a breeze. So, he decided to try his luck, once again, with Lily. He walked over to the girls.
“Evans! How are you this fine evening?” he asked, running a hand through his hair before leaning against one of the stone columns.
She barely looked up from her conversation. “Better before you opened your mouth.”
“Well, I can make it up to you. Let’s go for a walk, just you and me. I’m sure the grounds look almost as lovely as you do.”
“I’d rather eat Marlene’s vomit. No thanks,” she said with an annoyed expression. “Come on.”
She grabbed Marlene and Mary and walked away from James. He stood there for a moment. She had turned him down time and time again, but for some reason, this one hit him right in the chest. It strangled something within him. It didn’t make sense that her simple refusal made him feel like this. He sighed and gave his limbs a little shake. He returned to his friends for a little bit, not feeling into being around people. Then he headed to his dorm alone.
His friends weren’t oblivious to his sudden mood change, and when they came into the dorm to see him already in bed, their suspicions were confirmed.
“Sulking over your Lilyflower?” Sirius asked, leading Remus and Peter toward James’ bed.
James made a groaning noise.
“You know there are other girls out there. Other fish in the sea. Or, I guess, other flowers in the garden?” Remus asked, sitting down on Sirius’ bed.
“Sure, but it’s not like James could woo them if he wanted to,” Peter said.
“What do you mean? He’s a proper catch!” Sirius said, defending James for him.
James moved slightly so his face wasn’t buried in his pillow. He groaned again.
“Then why can’t he get a girl?”
“Not that he can’t. He just doesn’t want any one beside Evans,” Sirius said.
“I think it’s can’t,” Peter said, crossing his arms with a smirk on his face. He didn’t mind playing devil’s advocate; it was fun.
James sat up. “I can get a girl.”
“Yeah? Care to prove it?”
“Pick one. And when I get her wrapped around my finger, you’ll owe me ten galleons.”
Peter’s smile twisted into a mischievous smirk. “Y/N Flint. Get her to kiss you before we leave for Christmas. Has to be her making the move.”
James’ expression fell just slightly before he masked it. Peter chose a challenge. This wasn’t just if James could get a girl, it was if James could get an unattainable girl. You were about as likely to go out with James as Lily was.
You practically had your own guard: Evan Rosier, Anthony Avery, John Mulciber and Stefan Wilkes. Sometimes Severus Snape, Barty Crouch Jr. and Regulus Black would be there too. You were always around one of them, usually more. It made you not the most approachable person. James couldn’t just walk up to you.
So, he started with baby-steps. The first being observation. Was there ever a time when you were alone? Or at least without the boys. James figured he could try talking to you if it was Dorcas, Pandora or Samantha. To his dismay, you were never alone.
He reminded himself: baby-steps. In his observing, he realized he learned your schedule fairly easily. He could attempt to catch your eye and wave to you. Part of the challenge was getting you to come onto him so why not get you to do the work from the beginning?
The first time you caught James looking at you, it’s across the Transfiguration classroom in the middle of McGonagall’s lecture. He smiled when he realized you’re actually looking back at him and he held your gaze until you looked away. You caught him looking at you a few more times throughout lessons that day. It hit the point where you approached him after Arithmancy.
“What are you looking at, Potter?” you asked, voice level and uninterested, like it was a chore to ask him.
“Thought it was pretty obvious,” he said with an easy smile.
“Then why?”
“To get you to talk to me. Worked, didn’t it?”
“And why do you need me to talk to you?” you asked, crossing your arms.
“Well, your friends are a bit… unnerving.” James stood up with a misguided notion that you were actually going to stand there and chat with him.
“Unnerving? Huh, I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be brave.” You gave him a quick once over before adding, “Cute.” Then you looked over to where Dorcas was just getting up from her desk. “Come on, Dorcas.”
You walked out of the classroom with Dorcas following closely behind. The latter glanced back at James confused.
“Hear that, lads? I’m cute.”
“Don’t think she meant it as a compliment…” Remus muttered.
James waved a dismissing hand at Remus. It was part of the process. James didn’t expect you to be falling all over him because he simply looked at you. He knew you weren’t that type of girl. He planned to prove to you that he was worth your time and once you decided he was, you’d be kissing him in no time.
“What was that with Potter?” Dorcas asked as she walked with you to the dungeons.
“Not sure. But apparently you’re unnerving.” You smiled at her.
“Did he say me specifically? I would hope I’m more, ah, what’s the word, daunting.”
“He said my friends.”
“Then I think he’s referring to the idiots who couldn’t make it into N.E.W.T. level Arithmancy.”
“Dropping Arithmancy was a choice,” Evan said, making himself known. He had been silently walking behind the girls with Stefan.
“Hi, how was class? Study hall was a bore,” you said overenthusiastically. “Class was great, thanks for asking, Evan.”
“Why would we ask when you’re just going to do it for us?” Stefan asked, stepping forward and putting an arm around Dorcas’ shoulders.
She quickly shrugged him off.
“It’s called manners. And you both could use to learn some.”
Evan dropped into a deep bow. “Please accept my deepest apologies, your majesty. How may I ever make it up to you?”
You gave Dorcas a look and the two of you kept walking towards your common room. Stefan nudged Evan and they were followed, giving you a little more space than before but not enough that they’d have to give the password again.
At dinner, you let curiosity get the best of you. You glanced toward the Gryffindor table a few times, and every time, James was already looking at you. This had to mean that he wanted something other than just getting you to talk to him. You had talked to him. He didn’t say anything worth listening to.
You let James get in your head too easily. How could one person looking at you constantly be enough to get you to be quiet at dinner? It wasn’t like people never looked at you. You were a Flint, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, and you liked to think you were both smart and pretty. People noticed when you walked into rooms.
“Thinking about something?” Pandora asked when you and your roommates were getting ready for bed. “You’ve been quiet.”
A soft laugh escaped your lips. “Of all people, James Potter.”
Samantha and Pandora both stared at you, wide-eyed and waiting for an explanation. Dorcas had at least seen you talk to him today, but was interested nonetheless.
“Go on,” Samantha said.
“Just been staring at me all day. Bit weird.”
“Maybe he’s moved on from that mudblood he’s been chasing,” Samantha said. “You’d be quite the upgrade.”
“Because that’s what I need, Potter’s undivided attention and affection.”
You gave James two more days of staring at you before you would talk to him again. This time, it was after Potions. You put your hand on his book and looked at his friends.
“Move on, boys.”
James smiled at his friends as they finished putting their things away at an ever-so-slightly quickened pace. You took your hand off James’ book and leaned against his station with your arms crossed once the boys were gone.
“You’ve been staring.”
“Yeah. Ever heard of the phrase ‘keep your eye on the prize’?”
You nodded slowly, tilting your head from one side to the other.
“I have. I have… But I fear it doesn’t apply in this situation,” you said.
“What would apply? Enlighten me.”
You rolled your eyes with a sigh. “If you want it, you got to work for it.” You stopped leaning against his brewing station. “Simply staring won’t get you anywhere in life. Enjoy the free advice.”
You were about to walk away when James grabbed your wrist. You looked at him impatiently. You could see Evan, Anthony and John over James’ shoulder. Your “unnerving” friends could be at your side in an instant if James made the wrong move, not that you’d actually need their help.
“I’ll put in the work. I’d go the extra mile.”
“If that’s so, don’t be afraid of my friends. They’re harmless.” You smiled sweetly. “Until they’re provoked.”
You pulled your wrist out of his hand and left the classroom. Evan, Anthony and John walked closer to James’ desk than they needed to as they trailed behind you.
James stood there for a moment. Until they’re provoked. Right. Because all the times he’s pranked your friends over the years hasn’t provoked them.
You didn’t see James staring at you across the Great Hall during dinner. You thought you had escaped whatever he was trying to do. It relaxed you. Usually whatever James was up to was no good and you had no desire to be on the receiving end of one of his pranks or schemes or jokes or whatever.
James was simply gathering himself. It was an embarrassing amount of repeating to himself that your friends were harmless. Then he had to figure out when he would talk to you again and what he would say. His previous conversations with you were short. He had to admit that he didn’t actually know much about you.
His staring dramatically decreased the next day. You were convinced that James really was scared of your friends. But then he approached you during study hall, despite the fact that you were sitting with Severus, Anthony and John. The boys stared him down as he stood next to you for a few seconds without saying anything.
He cleared his throat. “Hey, Y/N.”
“Hello, Potter,” you said as you continued to work on the Ancient Runes essay you had in front of you.
“I was wondering if you’d done the Herbology worksheet,” James said slowly, as if testing the waters.
“I think I’m about halfway done with it.”
“Oh, brilliant. Would you want to work on it together?” James asked, already sitting down and opting to ignore the increasingly intense stares of your friends.
“Might as well,” you replied with a shrug before reaching into your bag to putt it out. “Any chance you actually pay attention?”
“Occasionally, but I’ve become quite skilled at finding answers in the book.”
A brief, quiet laugh escaped your lips. It was enough to make James smile and take a breath of relief. You had somewhat hoped James had taken notes in class so the sheet would be more fill-in-the-blank, but instead, he had pulled out the textbook and set it between you. Yours was back in your dorm. It was a thick tome that you couldn’t be bothered to carry, even when Professor Sprout requested that students bring it to class.
“First question, did you get four glossy, smooth-edged leaves?” you asked.
“Yes. And two should be itchiness and swelling.”
“Until asphyxiation.”
James chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. “Erm, yeah, I suppose. Or until an antidote is applied.”
“No guarantee anyone’s around to apply it.”
“Okay. Um, number three, underwater fiery petunia weed?”
You hummed affirmatively. “And false for four. I stopped there last night. Got bored.”
“Five should be blooms once every four years,” James said, flipping back a few pages in the textbook and pointing to a section under a diagram of a flower. “And six might just be bees? I’m not sure if she’s counting manual pollination.”
You leaned over to see the section he was referring to in order to copy down the answer. In doing so, you caught a whiff of his cologne. It took you by surprise. It was nice. It was different than what your friends usually wore, but in a good way. It was a warmer scent that didn’t scream This costs one hundred galleons.
As you worked on the rest of the worksheet, you and James shared his book, both of you scanning the sections at your own paces and letting the other know when you were ready for a page flip. You’re certain you finished it faster and more correctly than if you had done it on your own. James muttered a few comments here and there that made you smile. Even though your focus was mainly on the worksheet, you could still feel James’ eyes occasionally drift to you and linger. So he was still staring.
“Oh, that was the last question… Not so bad,” James said, flipping over the double-sided sheet from back to front to back. “Thanks for working on it with me. I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing.”
He gave you a wide smile and moved to stand up, but you grabbed his wrist. He gave you a questioning look.
You rose just enough to whisper in his ear, “You smell good.”
Then you let go of him and sat back down. His smile widened even more. You returned it with a sly smile. He nodded and went back to his friends. John watched James leave with a wary expression before turning to look at you.
“What was that?”
“Herbology homework.”
“I meant-”
“I know. Not exactly,” you snapped. Now you had to work on your Ancient Runes assignment before you lost the motivation to do so.
Now that James had sat at the same table as you with your unofficial guard, he felt more confident. The next day, he was saying hi to you when he passed by in the corridor. He was still staring at you from across the classroom, but now when you caught him, he flashed you a brilliant smile, one that was more happiness filled than cocky, and a wave.
After Herbology, he stopped by your station and said, “Just bees was correct. Glad I didn’t change it.”
“Shame she didn’t include asphyxiation though,” you replied.
Pandora’s curious expression when he walked away was priceless. It was understandable though. James had never exchanged little comments like that with you before.
He made it clear that he was no longer intimidated by your male friends. A few days later, he approached you after lessons and asked if you’d want to work on homework in the library with him.
“You know where the library is, Potter?” you asked.
“It’s that big room that I usually avoid,” he said, lips twitching into a smirk. “If I didn’t know where it was, I might wander in there by accident.”
“But you’re offering to go there now? Willingly?” you asked with an overly-sweet tone.
He shrugged and adjusted his bag on his shoulder. “Is that not where you usually do homework?”
“Common room, actually. But you can’t go there. So, sure. Lead the way to the forbidden land, Potter.”
Dorcas and Anthony watched as you left them to go with James.
“This is weird, right?” she asked him.
“Very.”
“I’m going to find Pandora. We’ll keep an eye on him,” Dorcas said.
All the two girls would see in the library would be you and James sitting next to each other, textbooks spread across the table as you worked on homework. Every once in a while, one of you would say something that would make the other laugh. It appeared simple, innocent, friendly. That made it all the more suspicious to them.
“You know he’s not a threat,” you hissed, breaking the two girls out of their zoned out state. You had spotted them a few tables away and excused yourself.
“What?” Dorcas asked. “Are we not allowed to work on homework in here?”
You looked at their table. Dorcas had a Defense textbook open and Pandora was doodling.
“Homework. Right.”
“Yup. I’m going to turn this in for extra credit. Sprout will love it,” Pandora said with a nod.
“Okay,” you said, shaking your head.
It would take a few more asking you to study before your friends stopped questioning it. Well, they still questioned it, but they didn’t bring any attention to it. You agreed to go with him. You seemed in a decent enough mood when you came back to the common room or to the Slytherin table for dinner.
“Y/N, can I ask you something?” James asked as he tucked his Potions’ essay into his bag.
You hummed, still finishing yours.
“If I asked you to Hogsmeade, what would you say?”
“In a hypothetical, I’d say no.” You saw his face fall in your periphery. “But that’s only a hypothetical. Too many variables.”
“Oh. Um, okay. Y/N, would you like to get butterbeers with me in Hogsmeade?” he asked, unsure if that’s what you were saying with the hypothetical and variable talk.
“Like a date?”
“Yes?”
“I’ll go on a date with you. Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” James said, now smiling with a new brightness in his eyes. “Meet you at the Three Broomsticks?”
You nodded.
“Great, I’ll see you then.”
James was extra smiley when he got back to his dorm. You agreed to a date. He could get a date. It wasn’t like you were going out with just any bloke who asked you. This was something. James could get a girl. Just not Lily apparently.
You kept your date with James under wraps. Your friends, who already disliked James, didn’t need to know that you were going to be spending more time with him. So when it was time to meet James in Hogsmeade, you slipped away from your friends. They were in an intense argument about something or other.
James was waiting for you outside the Three Broomsticks. His face brightened when he spotted you.
“You came,” he said as you got closer. He opened the door for you.
“I said I’d go on a date with you. I keep my word.”
“I’m glad.”
“Up to you to ensure I don’t regret it,” you said, picking a table to sit at. “Was this why you started staring at me?”
“If I’m being honest, yes. I knew I had to be your friend before I could dream of getting you here.”
“You’re not the only one who’s dreamed about dating me,” you teased.
“I would be surprised if I was. You’re beautiful.”
“And a damn good time,” you added with a smile.
“That I’ve come to know,” James said. “Never been upset when I’m with you.”
“I’m waiting for you to piss me off. Feels like it happen eventually.”
“If you think I’m going to piss you off, why did you agree to come?”
“See how long it takes.”
“And here I was hoping that you might actually like me.”
“I’m debating it. You haven’t been as bad as I was expecting.”
“Coming to see that I’m a delight?” he asked.
You laughed. He was proving to be alright. He could make you laugh and make time pass by quicker. He didn’t seem to care about little status things, which you were debating if you liked or not.
“Speaking of delights, Flitwick’s exam? How do you think you did?” James asked.
It’s strange how easy it is to talk to James. This was more continuous conversation, only broken up by sips of butterbeer, rather than the miscellaneous comments while you worked on homework. You talked about the exam and the homework. You joked about your friends and their arguments. James talked about some drama that was going down in the Gryffindor Tower.
By the time you’d gone through a few cups of butterbeer, you had decided that James wasn’t too bad. He didn’t piss you off. He listened to your stories. He laughed at your jokes. Despite some hesitancy, you would admit that you liked spending time with James.
You figured he must feel the same since he kept finding time to be near you. You studied together even more frequently. He walked with you to classes you had together, even if your other friends were with you. They didn’t really warm up to James. They simply tolerated him for your sake.
Then he didn’t split up from you when you reached the Great Hall. He followed you all the way to the Slytherin table. You expected him to turn around when you sat down, for him to cross the hall to Gryffindor’s table. But when you sat down, so did he.
“Excuse me?” Severus snapped.
James looked at you, silently asking if it was okay that he had sat down.
“Bugger off, Snape. He’s with me,” you said, giving James a soft smile.
The boys around you, besides James, exchanged glances that you chose to ignore. James had become your friend and was steadily working toward something more. The boys would have to get used to him being around. Dorcas and Pandora were a smidge warmer to James. So at least he had that.
Dinner ended up only being slightly awkward. You acted like nothing was weird. It was just all your friends together and you could bridge the gaps in the conversation. Soon enough, your laugh was being met with those of your friends. James bumped shoulders with you and shared smaller smiles with you.
He became almost like a shadow to you. Walking you to class, carrying your books, studying in the library, hanging out in alcoves. You stood next to him during the Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw quidditch game. James sat at the Slytherin table from time to time. Dorcas and Pandora accepted that he could keep good conversation, but the boys still held out on him. But one thing was certain: you and James were something. You didn’t define it or put a label on it, but something was there.
It was a few days before students were to leave for Christmas break. James had yet to kiss you. You almost wanted to throw it in his face, saying that he was some Gryffindor if he couldn’t kiss the girl he’d been going around with. You didn’t. Maybe he was waiting for the right moment.
“James!” you called across Central Hall. You laughed as you got closer and saw that he was holding a small box. “We had the same idea, didn’t we?”
You held out your own small box for him. He smiled and swapped the two.
“I didn’t want to risk not seeing on the last day,” he said.
“Unlikely.”
“I know. But go on. Open it.”
You untied the ribbon before peeling the edges of the wrapping up.
“A box! Perfect!”
“Your favorite, I know.”
You opened the box and your smile grew twice the size. It was a simple necklace with an amethyst pendant.
“You ranted about being tired of diamonds once and I know you like purple…” he muttered, like he needed to explain his gift choice.
You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him.
“James, it’s perfect,” you breathed as you took a step back. “Wait, wasn’t that diamond rant from before you started staring at me?”
He smiled sheepishly. “Just because I wasn’t looking doesn’t mean I wasn’t listening.” He shifted his weight. “But you really like it?”
“I love it. Will you put it on me?”
He took the small box from you to remove the necklace. You lifted your hair so that he could clasp it around your neck.
“Aren’t you going to open yours?” you asked, turning back around.
“I mean, I don’t need to. You already gave me the best gift.”
“Open it!”
“Okay, okay,” he laughed.
He didn’t take nearly as much care with removing the wrapping and when he opened the box, a small broom zipped out and flew around his head. James reached out to catch it and turned it over in his hands, careful to not let it escape.
“Oh, this is brilliant!” he said. He let it go for a few seconds before grabbing it again.
“The handle is a switch. You can adjust it so it doesn’t fly or so it just levitates in one spot,” you explained, toying with your new necklace.
James fidgeted with the handle until the tiny broom hovered over his hand without flying off.
“This is so cool.” He glanced at the library. “Did you have homework, or…”
“I don’t have any. Jus’ was looking for you.”
James slid the broom into his pocket and grabbed his hand. “Then let’s go to the greenhouses. It’s warm in there.”
You let James lead you there, finding a bench in the upper levels. He put his arm around your shoulders as you sat together.
“Got anything planned for break?” James asked.
For a while, the two of you talked about your families’ holiday traditions. When he had to go, he kissed your hand and winked. You stayed in the warmth of the greenhouse for a bit longer, playing with the pendant and smiling to yourself.
“I hear you got your kiss,” Peter said the moment James walked through the door of his dorm.
“Cough up your galleons then,” Remus said. “I believe you agreed to ten.”
Peter went to dig for the coins.
“Don’t worry about it yet, Peter. I haven’t broken up with her yet.”
“Why not?” Peter asked, hand rummaging around his trunk.
“Because that would be rude? We just exchanged Christmas gifts and you kissed me. See you? I’ll end it later.”
Remus and Peter left it at that. Except, James didn’t break things off with you before break started. The more he thought about it, the more he didn’t want to break your heart. Before Christmas, right – that part was important. He could end things when you got back in person.
Sirius was told that James won the bet. After that, no one mentioned you. You didn’t come up on the ride to King’s Cross. Sirius didn’t bring you up to James’ parents when they came to pick the two boys up. And for the first few days of break, Sirius didn’t see who James was writing letters to. He assumed his friend was writing to Remus or Peter or Marlene or someone else on the quidditch team.
“James, you got mail!” Sirius yelled from the kitchen one morning. An owl had already been by with the post. Sirius flipped through the letters and stopped on one with a heard on it. “Who’s this one from?”
James, having just walked into the kitchen, took the letters from Sirius.
“Oh, that’s from Y/N.”
“Why is she writing to you? And with a heart? Couldn’t get over you or something?”
“No,” James said, shaking his head. “I didn’t break up with her.”
“You didn’t end things? You proved yourself, mate. You don’t have to waste your time on her anymore.”
“Not going to ruin her holiday. That’s cruel.”
James left the kitchen to read your letter in privacy. He thought that he should’ve corrected Sirius that he wasn’t wasting his time. He actually enjoyed spending time with you and looked forward to your letters. You were complaining about a dinner your parents dragged you to. You were the only one there under 30. James immediately went to write back.
Sirius started checking the mail every day. There was always a letter from you. He had no clue what you and James were talking about that could warrant daily correspondence like this. Especially when James was going to break up with you.
A few days after Christmas, he opened one of the letters. You were writing from your grandparents’ house and saying that James would love their cooking. It didn’t even seem like James had planted a seed of uncertainty in you. From the letter, it looked like everything was good between you. So Sirius took things into his own hands. He wrote back to you and burned the letter you had sent.
In the letter Sirius wrote posing as James? He broke up with you. He wrote how it had started. A bet to rebuild his confidence after a painful rejection from Lily. And since he had gotten his kiss, he didn’t need you anymore. But, Hope we can still be friends.
You stared at the letter when it arrived. Your chest felt empty as you sat on the guest bed you had claimed as your own. You had been used. Your friends were right to be wary of James. You should have listened to them. You ripped the necklace James gave you off your neck, breaking the chain. You felt bad about hiding in your room at your grandparents’ house, but you didn’t want to see anyone. Not while you were crying and heartbroken.
What made things worse when you got back to school was James really leaning into the “Hope we can still be friends.” He tried talking to you, walking with you, waving to you across corridors. You ignored him. You didn’t know how he thought he could be your friend after using you like that. After making you like him.
“Hey, Y/N!” he called, jogging to catch up with you as you quickly left the Transfiguration classroom. “Wait up!”
You didn’t. You kept walking. He broke into a full-out sprint to get to you. You only stopped because he grabbed your arm.
“Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to study together, but something’s off with you.” You rolled your eyes. “D’you want to talk about it?”
You yanked your arm out of his hand.
“Talk about it? Why would I talk about it with you?”
He stared at you for a second. There was bite in your voice and anger in your eyes. He wasn’t expecting that from you, although he supposed your letters did stop rather abruptly.
“I… I don’t…”
“You were using me to get over Evans’ rejection. You did it,” you snapped bitterly. “I don’t know why you’re still talking to me. You made it pretty clear in your letter that you didn’t need me. So, just, fuck off, Potter.”
You stalked away from him, leaving him standing there. In his letter? He hadn’t written anything like that to you. He knew he was going to have to tell you eventually that it started as a bet, but he really enjoyed your company and wasn’t planning on ending things. He was so confused. He had grown to like you. Really like you. And you had looked like you would murder him if he tried to talk to you again. He was fucked and he didn’t know why.
“I fear sometimes that people sort of see me a certain way from some of these roles, and I can’t wait for the opportunity to be like, ‘I’m such a dork!’ Really, really — I’m such a dork. I just pretend to be cool.”
Highkey don't remember how different the Battle in the Department of Mysteries is in the movies vs books so... enjoy part iv ❤︎
3.2k words
cw: age gap!, Y/N, angst, fluff
You don’t heal overnight. That’d be a miracle. At least by the end of the week, standing up doesn’t hurt as much and you’re able to walk. You had a few visitors here and there as news got around. Molly stayed to take care of you until that first week was over; then she left and Remus and Sirius took over.
After the second week, Severus came back to check on you, bringing another bottle of potion for you. He seemed disappointed that you were still at Grimmauld Place. Except he didn’t express that directly to you.
“She’ll only be here a few more days. Then she’ll move back to her flat and Bill or Tonks can check on her,” Severus told Remus, and technically Sirius as he was in the kitchen with Remus.
“Y/N is welcome to stay as long as she likes,” Sirius said.
“I assure you she’ll be going home.”
Remus sent Sirius a warning glance, silently begging him not to start something.
“And if she doesn’t? What if… she wants to stay?”
Severus scoffed. “No one wants to stay here.” He paused. “Especially with you.”
Sirius’ chair scraped loudly against the floor as he stood up. He fully intended on crossing the room to tell Severus some of the things you and him did. But then you appeared in the doorway.
“Dad, you can leave now. And I’ll leave when I feel like it,” you said, calm yet firm.
“You’ll leave when you finish that potion.”
“No. I’ll leave when I want to. And that’s not something you will choose for me.” You took a few steps into the kitchen as you spoke. “There is no need for you to play the role of protective father. Not now, not ever.” You shook your head and let a bitterness lace your voice. “You barely played the role of father. Go back to Hogwarts and I’ll be wherever I want to be with whomever I want to be with.” And then a softness as you glanced over at Sirius. “Mind you, that’s Sirius. Just to be clear.”
Severus took a sharp breath. “I did the best I could for you.”
“You turned away from me.”
“That was-”
“I’m sure it wasn’t once. Just get out.” Severus didn’t move. “Leave!”
Severus glared at Sirius and spat, “Look at what you did.”
Then he moved past you to leave out the front door. You scoffed and shook your head before moving to put the kettle on the stove. You could feel Remus and Sirius watching you. Sirius had a look of admiration. Remus was worrying that you were destroying whatever relationship you had with your father for one with Sirius. He had seen how happy you apparently make each other, but he wasn’t sure if it was worth it in the long run. Clearly, Severus was one for holding grudges and he doubted that would be any different for his daughter, even what just happened.
“Either of you want a cup?” you asked.
“Might as well,” Sirius said, his smile audible in his voice.
Remus sighed. “I’m alright.”
As expected, you didn’t go back to your flat after you finished the potion your father brought you. You opted for sleeping in Sirius’ bed and keeping him company. You were pretty sure that the two of you were driving Remus crazy, not that you were going to do anything about it.
You had written to your friends at some point. You told them you had a mishap with a potion you were tinkering with, something to imply that you were injured but not enough to warrant visits. You read your letters out loud to Sirius and told him about each friend. You recounted your Hogwarts adventures. Sometimes you felt like your time being an unsanctioned potions dealer paled in comparison to Sirius’ time sneaking into Honeydukes and pranking his classmates in ways that outshined the Weasley twins. But Sirius listened with rapt attention to each story, taking in each and every detail of your life.
The letter that caught you by surprise was one from Fred and George. Yes, you had been discussing logistics and possible partnerships, but the most recent letter said that they left school. Sirius barked a loud laugh. Loud enough that Remus came up to the sitting room from the kitchen to see what that was about.
“The twins! Set of fireworks all through Hogwarts! And left on brooms!” he recounted to Remus through his laughter. “I knew I liked those two.”
“They said they stopped by my shop but saw it was closed,” you added.
“Remember you can’t tell them anything in a letter,” Remus said. “If they come here, fine. But you know the rules. Nothing in writing.”
“Yes, professor.”
Remus rolled his eyes and left you alone again.
“You know he hates-”
“If he’s going act like one, I’m going to call him professor.”
When you wrote back, you told the boys that your shop was closed for the time being as you recovered from an injury. You didn’t need to say from a “potions incident.” They were at least Order-adjacent and could put two and two together.
And they did, being that they showed up to headquarters the next day. They got the short and sweet version of what happened to you. Went on a mission with Tonks and ran into unexpected Death Eaters. Got hit with a nasty spell and I’ve had to stay here to heal up. No mention of where you actually went with Tonks, no mention of Marcus Flint – although his presence there might have been just sheer coincidence – no mention of how you weren’t conscious when Tonks brought you back. And the obvious leaving out that at this point you were actively choosing to stay at Grimmauld Place.
“Sounds like you’ve been having as horrible of a spring as we have,” George muttered before going into a rant about Umbridge.
Then they talked about how things were going with moving into the flat above the storefront they secured for their joke shop. They had started setting up a layout for the store and ordering products. They even had an estimate for when they’d be able to open. Nothing was set in stone – too many things could set them back. But they were excited and you shared in it.
Within the week, you did go back to your flat. It was nice to shower in your home shower again. It was nice to have full choice of your wardrobe again; you had Tonks grab you some clothes not long after the mission. You started opening your shop again a few days a week and brewing regularly to keep stock up. You still spent a lot of time at Grimmauld Place with Sirius. It was just now you had to return to the you had before you got hurt.
---
You were in the sitting room, curled up on a chair with a book, when the fireplace crackled. It spurted. You nearly jumped out of your skin.
“Sirius!” a voice called.
You scrunched your face with confusion as you closed your book and set it down. You cautiously got out of your chair.
“Sirius?”
“Hello? Harry?” you asked, now crouching down next to the hearth. “Are you okay?”
“Y/N? Where’s Sirius?” Harry asked, rather than answering your question. His face was a bit jarring to see in the ashes.
“Upstairs. Harry, he’s just upstairs. With that hippogriff,” you said, feeling his urgency.
“Are you sure? Are you sure that You-Know-Who doesn’t have him?”
“You-Know-Who? Harry, what are you talking about?”
“I saw him torturing Sirius somewhere with prophecies.”
“Unless the attic got a drastic makeover…”
“Y/N, can you go get him? I need to see him. I need to know that he’s not in danger.”
“I’ll be right back. Don’t worry, Harry. He’s okay.”
You stood up and left the room. You take the steps multiple at a time until you reach the attic where the hippogriff was kept. You didn’t know about it for a while, which you found so odd given how much time you ended up spending in the house. Sirius was standing up from the hippogriff when he saw you standing in the doorway.
“What’s wrong?”
“Harry’s-”
“Harry?” Sirius practically ran into you at the mention of his godson. “What’s wrong with Harry?”
“He’s in the sitting room, needs to see you.”
“He’s here?” he asked, hurrying down the stairs with you following close behind.
“No. Talking through the floo network.”
Sirius burst into the sitting room and sprinted to the fireplace.
“Harry?” he gasped.
No response. Harry wasn’t there anymore.
“I swear he was there,” you said.
“What did he say?”
“He thought You-Know-Who had you. That he was torturing you. Something about prophecies?”
“We need to tell the Order,” Sirius said firmly.
You and Sirius talked to Remus, telling him what little information Harry told you. Remus figured out that Harry must’ve snuck into Umbridge’s office to use the floo network, given that all the other fireplaces were being watched. He communicated with other members of the Order that there might be activity at the Ministry of Magic, specifically the Department of Mysteries. Remus went with the other after ordering you and Sirius to stay put. Grimmauld Place was safe.
It’s a long evening. You and Sirius returned to the sitting room, except rather than sitting with Sirius or with a book, you started brewing. Healing potions and numbing potions and sleeping draughts. Anything you thought might be helpful when the Order members returned. Sirius watched you with careful eyes as you stirred, chopped and mixed. He knew you needed to be doing something. He wished he could be doing something helpful too, rather than just sitting and watching.
“They should be back by now,” you said with a frown after a while.
“They’ll get back when they get back,” Sirius said, trying to sound comforting despite his own worry. “Maybe they returned to the Weasleys’ or somewhere else.”
You shook your head. “They’d come here. Headquarters. … What if Remus-”
“Remus will be fine. Everyone will be fine.”
Sirius had to say that. If he didn’t, he’d start to believe otherwise and he refused to lose Remus to some mission. You finished your last batch of healing potions and then you went to sit with Sirius, curling into his side and wrapping your arm around him.
“At least Harry’s safe,” you mumbled and Sirius hummed in agreement.
Time took its sweet time passing and it was well into the morning by the time the front door opened and voices carried up the stairs. You had fallen asleep on Sirius. He gently propped you up against a pillow and went downstairs to see what had all happened.
Remus recounted what happened. Without Harry there, the prophecy couldn’t be moved, but when the Death Eaters realized that the plan failed and that they were facing Order members rather than a mere teenager, all hell broke loose. Someone got pushed into a shelf and they fell like dominoes, causing hundreds of prophecies to be destroyed and never heard again. But that wasn’t the kicker. No. Voldemort actually showed up in what Remus called a desperate attempt to maybe find his prophecy among the wreckage, but Dumbledore made an appearance. Dumbledore was able to hold Voldmort at bay for a while and then Fudge arrived with other members of the ministry. Somewhere in all of the commotion, the Death Eaters and Voldemort disappeared. The point was that Fudge saw. Fudge knew that Harry and Dumbledore weren’t lying.
You’d be told all of this in the morning, although Sirius made the smart choice to preface the story with “No one was gravely injured and no one died.”
As the end of the school year approached, Sirius seemed to vibrate with excitement. His name still hadn’t been cleared with the ministry so he was still supposed to be hidden within Grimmauld Place, but his offer to Harry about maybe having the boy move in stood. Dumbledore didn’t seem too pleased with it, but Sirius would not drop it. Not until the old man compromised. If Harry could start the summer at the Dursleys and then spend most of it with the Weasleys, then Harry could start with his aunt and uncle and then move in with his godfather.
“We’ll tell him after he moves in and gets settled, yeah? Oh, this is going to be brilliant! Then we’ll get my name cleared and I can get a motorbike again and then we can travel or something!” Sirius ranted as he marked off a day on a calendar counting down until Harry’s arrival.
“The summer is only so long, Sirius. He is going back to school in September,” you said smiling.
Sirius waved his hand dismissively. “I know that. But there’s Christmas and next summer and the rest of our lives!”
“Rest of our lives, huh?”
“Rest of our lives.”
The day that Harry arrives, you hang back. To your relief, Remus and a few others were around to ensure that the move went smoothly. It wasn’t just you and the two boys. Sirius showed Harry to the room that would be his, a different one than he’d lived in last summer. This one Sirius insisted that Harry decorate and make his. Watching Sirius with his godson brought a joy to you that you couldn’t quite place. Sirius just lit up around him and you knew part of it was making up for lost time.
Dinner was a big ordeal with everyone around and then slowly, the house emptied out. You had discussed with Sirius that it was probably better if you weren’t spending the night right away when Harry got there. Let him get used to living with Sirius before adding you into the picture. So, you left with the Weasley twins, being that you were both going back to Diagon Alley.
“Have you always hugged Sirius?” George asked as the three of you walked down the front steps and turned down the street.
“Hm?” you hummed.
“I saw you hug Sirius before we left,” George said. “Have you always done that?”
You didn’t answer right away. You were going to tell people about you and Sirius. This could be your first time telling someone, being that Sirius told your father.
“I mean, not always, but I s’pose it’s been a while?”
The boys exchanged a glance.
“You don’t hug Professor Lupin,” Fred stated.
There it was. They had a feeling and you knew they had a feeling.
“He prefers it if you call him Remus.”
“Fine, Remus. You don’t hug Remus, but you hug Sirius?” Fred asked with a roll of his eyes.
“Yes. I’m… closer with with Sirius.”
“Closer how?” Fred pressed.
“I’m seeing him,” you said quickly, keeping your gaze straight ahead. You didn’t really want to see the twins’ reactions.
“You’re seeing him?” George repeated.
“Yes.” You paused as you walked. “Been seeing him since September.”
“That’s why you spent the night in his room after Christmas!” Fred exclaimed. “I knew there was something bogus with that!”
“I was trashed, thank you very much. But, erm, he may have been lying when he said he slept on the floor.”
George laughed. “Damn, Snape, you’re really dating one of the ‘most dangerous’ men according to wizardkind.”
“You both know he’s innocent!”
“Not of cradle robbing,” Fred said.
“It’s… it’s not like that.”
“Oh? So he’s not the same age as your father? The same age as Remus who also taught you?”
“No, he is. It’s just… Different.”
“I’m sure he is,” George said. “Because you’re letting him put his-”
“And we are changing the subject!” you said firmly, feeling yourself turn pink. “But, um, we haven’t told many people. Namely, Harry. So don’t bring it up around him, yeah? Not until we have a chance to talk to him.”
“Yeah, you can deal with that dumpster fire.”
You’re not over at Grimmauld Place every day. But it does return to the point where you’re there multiple times a week. Days that you have your shop open are the ones you tried to stay fully at home, but sometimes you still stopped by for dinner or to drop off a new book for Sirius. Two weeks pass before you spend the night with Sirius again. You and Sirius talked about Harry and how he didn’t seem to mind you being around. Sirius assured you that the boy would take it in stride when he told him.
In the morning, you left a sleeping Sirius in bed to make your morning tea. You sipped it slowly as you skimmed the Daily Prophet. You didn’t look up when Harry entered the kitchen; out of habit, you had thought it was Sirius.
“No offense, but why are you here?” he asked, making you jump.
You set the paper down. Straight to business and no good morning. So much for him not minding you being around. His green eyes stared at you, waiting for your answer.
“Can’t you have tea at your own flat? Or with the twins or something?” he continued when you didn’t have an answer right away.
“I mean, I can have tea at mine, but I like to have it right when I get up. You know, I don’t like going somewhere for it when it’s right here?”
“But you came here?”
“I came downstairs, yes.”
“No, you came here. To Grimmauld Place.”
“Harry, uh, I came here yesterday. You remember that, right?” He nodded. “I never left. So that’s why I’m here, I guess.”
“You spent the night? Why?” Harry was remembering when you were too drunk to leave around Christmas, but last night, you hadn’t been drinking at all.
“I’m in a relationship with Sirius?” you said, hating how your voice lifted at the end, making it sound more like a question than a statement.
Harry stared at you wordlessly for what felt like five minutes. You brought your cup to your lips to take a sip. Anything would be better than him staring at you like that, but it also felt wrong to pick up the paper to continue reading.
“What?” he finally asked.
“I’m dating Sirius. Uh, have been for a few months.” Few. Right, you could correct the timeline later.
“You’re… but you were in school with me, right? Few years ago?”
You nodded, knowing exactly where Harry was going. It was the same place the twins went.
“And you’re aware… Snape and Sirius… they hate each other.”
You laughed. “I’m very aware of that.”
“And they went to school together. With my dad.”
“Yes.”
Harry watched you for a second before saying, “Gross.”
Without taking anything from the kitchen, he walked out and you heard him go back upstairs. You assumed he was going to his room. You sighed and picked up your paper again. It could’ve gone worse. He could’ve spat in your face like Severus did to Sirius. Also like with your dad, it probably would’ve gone better if the other half of the relationship broke the news.
“I told him,” you said quietly when you looked from the paper to see Sirius entering the kitchen and making a beeline for the kettle.
He hummed. “And?”
“He said gross.”
Sirius barked a laugh as he poured himself a cup of tea. Then he took the seat next to you and kissed your forehead.
“Now the big three know, yeah? And guess what, I still love you.”
And because he did not leave headquarters during the Department of Mysteries Battle, that section where we can all sleep peacefully, thank u sweetie @marauder-misprint This story has turned into a dream come true, thanks to you.
Your manifestation has worked! And I know I said in part 2 that it would only be three parts. I lied. I need at least another part for telling Harry. ❤︎
Thank you for all the love the Snape Spawn series has gotten so far ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎
It got quiet around Grimmauld Place after the spring term started up. Fred and George took you up on your offer for advice via letters; you had gone with them to look at places in Diagon Alley and you thought it went well. You were excited for them. Once Arthur was doing better, he and Molly went back to the Burrow.
It was back to being mainly Remus and Sirius at Grimmauld Place. And you. Sirius told you that Remus put two and two together on Boxing Day. You weren’t sure how you felt about his reaction, despite it being exactly what you expected. Sirius was definitely much more relaxed about it than you were.
Sirius sat down with you in his room with you tucked under his arm, nestled up against his chest.
“Do you want to stop telling people for a little bit? Just leave it at Remus?” he asked, gently running his fingers up and down your arm.
“No, no. We said we’d start telling people,” you said with a soft sigh. “It’s just Professor Lupin.”
You could feel Sirius’ chest rumble as he chuckled.
“Professor Lupin. Pretty sure he’s asked you to stop calling him that.”
“He has.” You sighed more heavily. “It’s the same thing as before. He’s your closest friend and my former professor. His opinion matters.”
He hummed and gave your shoulder a squeeze. “Don’t worry about him. I love the man, but I also love you. He’ll come around.”
“I love you too,” you murmured into his chest.
Sirius pressed a kiss to the top of your head. One thing he really liked about Remus knowing was that you could sit like this in his room with the door open. There was less sneaking around. Although there was still sneaking when you wanted to spend time in your flat.
“Oi, people are coming over,” Remus’ voice came through the open door.
His body passed by the doorframe seconds later, not looking in. He moved quickly. Sirius groaned quietly as he lifted his arm away from you. You knew that there was an Order meeting. You just wished that you had more time under Sirius’ arm right now. He was warm and you were comfortable.
“Come on, he’s right,” Sirius said, moving off of his bed and offering you his hand.
“What if I said I’m comfy?”
“My bed will still be here after the meeting,” he said before leaning in to briefly kiss you and whisper, “Unless you want to skip the meeting and let everyone know that we’re together in one go.”
You practically jumped off his bed. “Right! Dad’s coming to this one and while I haven’t figured out how to tell him, that is not it.”
Sirius smirked and led you out of his room.
“Just an idea, love.”
You closed the door to Sirius’ room before following him down to the kitchen. Remus barely spared you two a glance.
“Tea?” he asked as he reached to grab a mug for himself.
“I’d love some,” you said, sitting down at the table next to Sirius.
Remus nodded and pulled down a second mug. You’d been over enough that Remus knew which tea you liked and how you took it. He placed the mug in front of you and sat on the other side of Sirius. You figured that was because he still felt weird seeing you and Sirius sit close together.
Slowly, members of the Order arrived at the house and filed into the kitchen. Tonks took her usual spot on your other side. You barely made eye contact with your father when he came into the room. You could feel his eyes watching you even after the meeting started, and it turned out to be more than his eyes. Once again he was trying to get into your brain. You took a deep breath and steadied yourself, emptying your brain. You focused on keeping Severus out of your thoughts and memories.
You nearly broke when Sirius looked at you. It was only a subtle side glance, but it told you that he noticed you tensed for no apparent reason. You took another breath and glared at your father, meeting his gaze. There was no emotion in his intense stare. You decided to up the game.
Then you weren’t sitting in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, listening to Mad-Eye Moody talk about missions you weren’t involved in and the vague information gathered from them. No, you were looking at a younger version of your father. You recognized where you were. You, and younger Severus, were standing outside of the house where you spent a decent amount of time growing up: the house of the couple that watched you while Severus taught at Hogwarts. Severus stood just beyond the front lawn. He bounced on the balls of his feets, watching the house. You glanced between him and the house. Surely, you were inside with the people you called Auntie and Uncle.
You watched as Severus shook his head and turned away. He walked away. You pressed your lips together and felt something break inside of your chest. Your father had been debating coming to see you and he just didn’t. He walked away from you.
Just as suddenly as you appeared in front of the house in Hogsmeade, you were back in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, between Tonks and Sirius. However, both you and your father had abruptly stood up with loud scraping noises as your chairs slid backwards.
The eyes of the room shifted between the two of you. You and Severus were having a new stare down and he looked furious at you.
“Am I, ahem, needed at this meeting? Or can I be excused?” you asked, breaking eye contact and looking toward Shacklebolt and Moody.
“You are needed,” Moody said. “You’re being assigned another mission.”
You sent another glare toward your father before sitting down and crossing your arms across your chest. Under the table, Sirius nudged your foot with his. You knew he was asking if you were okay, and you hated that you couldn’t reassure him right now, not with Moody’s eye in the room. Moody described the missions you were to be going on; you were to pair with Bill Weasley and Tonks. You’d be trying to get information out of people whose stances were unknown. You three were young enough to not have participated in the first war and you were lesser known among known Death Eaters.
Once the meeting was over, you disapparated. You felt horrible for leaving Sirius without saying bye, but you needed to get out of there. That memory you visited filled you with rage and hurt. Even if just to say hi, why hadn’t he gone inside? It could’ve been a short visit, but it would’ve been a visit. He rarely did that. If he had gone all that way, why did he turn around? Were you just not good enough for him? No, you knew you never were.
You paced around your flat until you felt like your legs were turning into jelly. But even with as exhausted as you were, sleep didn’t come easy and when it did, it wasn’t restful.
You started canvassing Diagon Alley with Bill. Whenever he had a break from Gringotts, he’d let you know so you could close up shop and help. Sometimes it was just watching as he talked to various people, or vice versa. You occasionally ventured down Knockturn Alley and a few of the other adjourning streets. The most that happened was you pointing out a man who you believed to be Mr. Nott; you told Bill that he had a son at Hogwarts that looked very similar. Bill turned you in a different direction so you didn’t run into him.
“Not someone to be taken on with just the two of us,” Bill whispered.
You frowned, but went along easily. Once again, you felt your dueling skills were being underestimated, but you knew it wasn’t a good idea to be starting duels in a shopping district, even if it was Knockturn Alley.
Your expedition with Tonks was more exciting. She had heard whispers about an underground animal auction happening and after running it by Moody, you were told to go. She’d be in disguise but you were good to go as is. You weren’t an employee of the ministry.
It wasn’t too difficult to find the auction grounds. You walked a bit through a dense forest, following seemingly meaningless ribbons tied to branches until you came across a clearing. There was a cloaking shield at the edge of it, but you and Tonks walked right in. It was bustling with people and cages; animal cries immediately filled the air. You and Tonks scanned the crowd. Nothing stood out to you. Tonk told you to find a seat and she’d catch up to you in a little bit. You watched her casually stroll up to a porky man with a clipboard in hand and a quill behind his ear. You gave the crowd another scan, unsure of where to go.
“Merlin’s bloody beard, is that Snape?” a family male voice called.
You turned and laughed. “Flint, what are the odds?”
Marcus walked toward you and pulled you into an uncomfortable hug. You hadn’t seen Marcus since school, and even then, you weren’t exceptionally close. That didn’t stop him from smiling at you and unabashedly checking you out.
“Haven’t seen you at one of these before. Looking for something?” he asked.
You shrugged. “You know how things are…” You glanced at the ground, smiled and picked something up. “If sellers are going to let perfectly good potion ingredients fall on the group, why shouldn’t I collect them?”
“Still doing potions then?”
“Got a shop in Diagon Alley. What about you?”
“Metal charmer by trade, little league quidditch official by hobby.”
You laughed and shook your head. “Some things never change, eh?”
“You here with anyone?”
“Yeah. Friend from a neighboring shop,” you said, pointing at Tonks.
However, instead of looking at Tonks, Marcus looked at your hand, grabbing it in awe. You were wearing the new gloves that Sirius got you; if you were to get into a duel, it would be on one of these missions you went on with Bill and Tonks.
He let out a low whistle. “No way you’re affording these by yourself.”
You snatched your hand back and gave Marcus a rather insulted look.
“Not that it matters, but they were a gift.”
“Someone must really like you.”
“Yeah. They do.”
You looked back at Tonks, seeing if you could make an excuse to leave Marcus. She was already making her way toward you. She had a sour look on her face.
“We’re leaving,” she said as soon as she reached you.
“Why? Bidding hasn’t started?” Marcus asked, looking between the two of you.
“We weren’t the only ones who heard about this,” Tonks said firmly, keeping her eyes on you.
You nodded, knowing what she meant. Death Eaters were coming and she somehow got that information out of the man with the clipboard.
“Course you're not,” Marcus said as he placed a hand on your shoulder. You tensed as his fingers curled around it. “That’s how auctions work. There needs to be more than one bidder.”
“Flint, it sounds like I’m leaving. It was good seeing you,” you said politely, but he held onto you with expected force.
“Stay. Come on. We should catch up.”
“Snape, we need to go.” There was more urgency in Tonks’ voice and you really didn’t like it.
“Marcus,” you warned.
You tried to take a step away from him, but it was too late. Figures in dark cloaks and masks started shoving their way through the crowd. They weren’t there to bid, but they were definitely leaving with the magical creatures. Marcus let go of your shoulder with shock on his face. He immediately ran toward where you assumed his friends were. You and Tonks exchanged a quick look before you both drew your wands and sent spells flying at the dark cloaks.
Those attending the auction to bid quickly disappeared into the forest. That made hitting your targets easier, but that also meant that the Death Eaters were getting a clearer view of who was hitting them. You saw a few Death Eaters stumble, fall over and cry out as spell after spell hit your targets. You haven’t had a good duel like this since school. It was exhilarating.
Then a red-orange burst hit you in the back and you fell forward. You couldn’t breathe. Your face hit the dirt and you couldn’t bring your arms up to break your fall nor push yourself up. From the heat you felt, you assumed it was some kind of altered fire curse. You could feel your body spasm. It hurt. It hurt so bad. You tried to scream out, but when you opened your mouth, there was no sound. Then it hit you that there was no sound. No light – you couldn’t see. And you couldn’t feel anything.
Was that it? Should you have tried to pull out of Marcus’ grip harder when Tonks told you that you needed to leave? Was this how you went out? Without a goodbye to Sirius?
---
“Remus!” Tonks shrieked as she apparated into Grimmauld Place with your more-or-less limp body. It spasmed periodically.
She thought you were doing exceptionally well being how out-numbered you were and that you didn’t have auror training. She hadn’t seen the spell that hit you, but she heard you fall. And when you stayed on the ground, she knew you had to get out of there.
Remus, Fleur and Bill came running out of the kitchen, and Sirius descended the stairs as fast as he could. Sirius had to grip the handrail to prevent himself from falling down the rest of the stairs when he saw your body. His breath hitched when he saw that you were wearing the glove.
Those were supposed to help.
“Bill, we’ll need Severus,” Remus said firmly to the ginger. “Let’s get her upstairs.”
Bill rushed to the nearest fireplace to contact Severus and then Dumbledore to explain why Severus needed to leave Hogwarts immediately. Remus and Fleur helped Tonks bring you upstairs. Tonks was sobbing as she recounted what happened. Remus assured her that she did the right thing.
“She’s alive?” Sirius croaked, standing in the door of one of the guest rooms, watching them lay you on the bed.
“I-I have no clue what spell hit her. She has a pulse,” Tonks managed to say weakly.
“It’s something. We’ll be able to do more once Snape gets here,” Remus said. “Watch her, will you?”
Sirius nodded, moving a chair in the room to be right next to the bed. Fleur took Tonks’ arm and helped her out of the room. It was very jarring for all of them to see Tonks like this; she was a bold and bright personality, an excellent auror and trained to keep her cool. Remus lingered in the guest room with Sirius for a minute. He watched his best friend’s sullen face. Remus turned away when he saw a tear run down the side of his face. He didn’t need to see Sirius like this. He didn’t want to see Sirius like this. Even if it was so bizarre for Remus to acknowledge, Sirius was happier when you were around. He acted more like a human rather than a shell of one.
And now you were laying in the closest thing to a hospital bed, unconscious and barely alive. But that was the important part: you were alive.
“He’s coming,” Bill told Remus when he came down the stairs. “Fleur’s getting Tonks a cup of tea, but she’ll need a calming draught. Albus… he didn’t want Snape to leave Hogwarts. Something about Umbridge.”
Remus closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.
“Yeah, yeah, she’s a nightmare, but it’s his goddamn daughter for Merlin’s sake. We need him here. She needs him here.”
“I told Albus that Snape already left. He left before I even told him everything.” Bill glanced at the door. “I expect he’ll be here any minute.”
The two men went to sit with Tonks and Fleur in the kitchen while they waited. Sirius, in order to convince himself that you were just sleeping, brushed your hair off of your face and took your gloves off. He held your hand and gently rubbed his thumbs over your knuckles. You’d be okay. You’d be okay. You’d be okay. You’d be okay. You’d be-
The front door opened. Remus stood up from the table in the kitchen. He had been sitting in a spot where he could see the front door. Severus and Remus didn’t exchange any words. They made eye contact and Remus pointed up. Severus didn’t nod. He showed no emotion as he silently turned and made his way to you.
Severus stood in the doorway when he found you. He wasn’t sure what was more shocking, disturbing even: you, laying motionless and eerily pale, or how Sirius was sitting with you, hunched over and rubbing your hand. After what felt like a few minutes, he entered the room.
“Make yourself useful and set up the potion station, Black,” he said coldly.
Not looking up from you, Sirius said, “It’s in the sitting room. There was never a point to put it away.”
Severus stepped toward the bed and glared at Sirius. “Get out. I need to examine her so I know what she needs.”
Sirius didn’t move. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to leave you alone with him. Yes, Severus was your father, but… No, Sirius didn’t want to leave you alone but it wasn’t because of Severus. It was all him. Sirius didn’t want to leave you alone. Period. Full stop. He looked at your face, somehow both peaceful and pained at the same time. Sirius knew he had to leave.
He stood up slowly and walked out of the room, not looking at Severus once. He debated going to his room. He could wait in there with the door open and listen for when Severus left your side so he could return. But then the front door opened again. Sirius let the sound direct him downstairs – he’d sit in the kitchen and hear what everyone else thought about the situation. He was met with Arthur and Molly in the entryway.
“Dumbledore called,” Arthur said, seeing Sirius.
“Is she upstairs?” Molly asked, looking up the stairs, and Sirius nodded.
Sirius and Arthur continued to the kitchen.
“Molly said something about a mother’s touch. Something no one in the house has,” Arthur said.
Sirius tried to chuckle, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He needed you to wake up and then he could smile and laugh again. Until then, he didn’t have that option. Remus watched Sirius reach for a whiskey glass.
“Padfoot, I’ll take a tea if you’re putting the kettle back on.”
Sirius stilled midmotion. He knew that Remus knew he wasn’t going for the kettle. At least, he wasn’t. Now that Remus said something, Sirius knew he had to. He nodded silently, put the kettle on and grabbed two mugs.
“Anyone else?”
“Might as well. Bill too,” Arthur said.
Two more mugs. They would all drink tea. While waiting for the kettle to be ready, Sirius moved cups to the table along with sugar and cream so everyone could make their cups as they liked. He needed to keep moving, keep himself distracted or he’d really want to reach for the whiskey again.
Molly stepped into the room where Severus was looking over you. He was tracing his wand along your limbs.
“What can I do to help?” she asked. Her voice was steady but kind. The way she asked the question said that it wasn’t really a question; she was going to help and things would be a lot better if he just told her what she could do.
Severus stood up straight, tucking his wand away. He wasn’t finished with his examination; he couldn’t tell for certain what spell was used on you. He rummaged through his brewing kit. He pulled out a small jar containing a rather basic soothing salve. He held it out for Molly.
“Apply this to all her burns. I need to start brewing.”
He hesitated in the doorway, giving you one last glance before heading to the sitting where Sirius said the potion station was. He silently got to work. As soon as he was out of the room, Molly did the same, taking the lip of the jar. The moment the salve touched your skin, it started to glow and seep into the burns. Molly was vaguely familiar with this salve. She had similar ones at the Burrow, ones specified for scrapes and cuts. She needed to adjust how you were laying so she could apply the salve to your back. She gently rolled you over and pulled your shirt up. The burns were horrible.
“I see where you got hit…” she muttered to herself.
She kept applying the salve until every burn was properly coated. Then she sat down in the chair. There was nothing more she could do until Severus came back.
Sirius kept glancing toward where they kept the whiskey. His cup had been sitting empty for a while now. Everyone else in the kitchen was more relaxed than him, engaging in conversation and offering to refill his cup. He shook his head each time. You were upstairs and only Remus truly knew how much it was killing him.
Everyone looked up when Molly entered the kitchen. She didn’t have to say anything to the room’s attention and her soft smile was a comfort to all of them before she even spoke.
“She’s awake. Severus is reassessing her.”
Tonks jumped up and left the kitchen immediately. They could hear her footsteps all the way until she reached your room. Remus gave Sirius a warning look; he didn’t need Sirius barging into the room while Tonks was talking to you and possibly with Severus still in there too.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, not caring that Severus was looking over your arm.
You gave her a weak smile. “Like a dragon roasted me.”
“That seems about right,” Tonks said with a weak chuckle.
She sat down in the chair and let Severus continue to look you over.
“You know, Y/N, you’re kind of wasted in your apothecary,” she said.
“Am I?”
“Wicked duelist. If only there had been less of them… more of us… something.” Tonks choked up briefly. “You wouldn’t be like… this.”
“Oh, shut up,” you said with a slight laugh slipping through your lips, which had you suddenly gripping your side as pain radiated from that spot.
“Sit still,” your father snapped.
You rolled your eyes and Tonks smiled at you slyly. You were still yourself. That’s what mattered. But you listened to Severus; you tried your best to sit still.
“So what happened?” you asked.
“I was talking to that guy, Watson, getting a feel for the auction. Sketchy. Unregulated. Undocumented. I could see you talking to some guy.”
“Marcus Flint. I went to school with him.”
Severus humphed. You didn’t know what he thought of Marcus and you didn’t really care. You didn’t like Marcus all that much so why would it matter?
“Then I heard someone say the Carrows were arriving soon. And Rowle, Yaxley, Macnair were all thrown around. It was too many. We couldn’t take them on.”
You nodded.
“But that boy wouldn’t let go of you until it was too late and we couldn’t just leave. I think we created enough of a diversion that some people were able to escape, but then you got hit. I didn’t see by what or who. Not with their bloody masks. I… I couldn’t let you just lie there. I got us out of there, and well, now we’re here.”
Severus walked out of the room without saying anything. You had no idea if it was because of his ties to Death Eaters or if he had to go brew something else for you. You winced as you tried to sit up.
“No, stay laying down,” Tonks said firmly. “You’ve been through a lot.”
“I’ll be fine-” you started to say, wanting to say more but she cut you off again.
“Yes. You will be fine. If you stay lying down and let us take care of you.”
You groaned as you adjusted the blanket around yourself.
“Thank you. For getting me here.”
Tonks nodded and reached out to squeeze your hand. She sat there for a few more minutes with you before getting up. Shortly after she left, Remus and Sirius came in. Sirius immediately took his spot in the chair and Remus leaned against the wall just off to the side.
“You’re alive,” Sirius said softly.
“Yeah, I am,” you breathed.
The two of you just stared at each other for a little bit. Sirius had such a soft expression; you had that effect on him. You were glad that you were alive and you were glad that Sirius was here for you. If you weren’t bedridden, you’d be hugging him.
“Y/N, do you need anything?” Remus asked.
Like everyone else, he was glad you were going to be okay. He felt that he didn’t need to be in the room with you and Sirius if you were trying to have a moment. You were adults. You didn’t need him acting as a chaperone.
“I’m alright, Remus. Thank you,” you said with a weak smile.
He nodded and left the room, heading back to the kitchen. Sirius moved some of your hair out of your face again, letting his fingers gently trace down your cheek before coming to rest on top of your hand.
“I haven’t been scared like that in years,” Sirius said.
“There weren’t supposed to be Death Eaters there.”
“I know.”
“Some idiot I went to school stopped us from leaving.”
“You might’ve saved some lives.”
“Felt good to be in the action… Until…”
Sirius chuckled softly, rubbing his thumbs over the back of your hand.
“That tends to be how it goes, Icarus.”
“There weren’t supposed to be Death Eaters there,” you repeated. “If they hadn’t appeared, we would’ve been-”
“You would’ve been okay. And you saw Tonks already. She’s okay.” Sirius leaned forward so he could press a kiss to your hand without moving you too much. “And you will be okay. Just don’t expect to be going back to your flat until you are.”
“Remus going to make me sleep in here?”
“There’s a possibility.”
You sighed. “But it’s not as comfortable as yours.”
“Really? I could’ve sworn my parents got better beds for guests than me and Regulus.”
“The mattress is fine, I suppose,” you said, wiggling your body slightly. “But it’s missing you.”
Sirius leaned forward again and kissed your forehead before whispering, “We’ll see who’s all staying here tonight, hmm? Maybe Padfoot can keep you company.”
You grinned. That would suffice.
However your happiness was short-lived as someone cleared their throat from the doorway. Severus.
“Black, don’t make me tell you to leave this room again.”
Once again, Sirius was slow to move at your father’s request. And once again, he didn’t want to leave you. You’re awake. He didn’t want to leave your side until you’re feeling better. He looked at you and you gave him a tight-lipped smile.
“You’ll be okay?” he whispered and you nodded.
At that, he stood up and left the room. Severus closed the door to the room and then handed you a tall glass of a thick purple liquid that smelled like bubotuber pus.
“Drink.”
“Obviously,” you said dryly. You tipped the cup up and the liquid slid down the glass like sludge. It tasted like bubotuber pus. You gagged, setting the empty cup on the bedside table.
“You need to rest. I’ll make more. You’ll need to drink it every evening for a week.”
You didn’t say anything. Severus left you alone in the room, closing the door behind him again. This time, Sirius had gone to his room rather than the kitchen. He fully intended on sitting with you again once Severus left the room so when he heard the door open and close, he left his room. He wasn’t expecting Severus to be waiting for him.
“Black. Stay away from my daughter. She doesn’t need to be corrupted by scum like you,” Severus hissed. The words burned as they left his mouth. They were words he never imagined having to say to a former classmate.
“‘Fraid I can’t do that, Snivvy,” Sirius said.
“Once she is healed, she goes back to her flat and you’ll keep your goddamn distance.”
“And what if she comes back here?” Sirius crossed his arms over his chest. He knew full well that you wouldn’t stay away from him if your father asked.
“It’ll be for meetings and meetings alone.”
Sirius smirked. “She comes ‘round here more often than we have meetings.”
“Whatever friendship you think you have with her, it’s over.”
“Dearest Snivellus, it’s not a friendship. It’s a relationship.” He took a step closer to Severus. “A courtship.” Another step. “A partnership.” Another step. “And I love her, so no, I won’t be staying away from her.”
Severus spat in Sirius’ face. “If you lay a hand on her, I will personally tell the dementors where you are.”
Sirius wiped the spit from his face, preparing a retort, but Severus had already turned and disappeared into the sitting room with a slammed door. He pressed his lips together. While that could’ve gone much worse, it probably would’ve been a hell of a lot better if it had been you telling Severus about the relationship. Two out of three people you were worried about knowing of the relationship, Sirius had told and both hadn’t gone great.
Sirius rubbed at his face again, trying to dry it off a bit more. Then he went back to your room and closed the door behind him.
“I heard,” you said, scooting over on the bed just enough so that Sirius could sit next to you. “I’ll try to talk him down… eventually.”
“Dumbledore won’t let him turn me into the dementors. Especially as long as I stay here, glorious, glorious headquarters.”
Still laying down, you wrapped your arms around Sirius’ waist and rested your cheek on his thigh. He absentmindedly started playing with your hair.
“And that leaves Harry…”
“My godson will want me to be happy. You make me happy.”
“I’m the daughter of his least favorite professor.”
“And the lovely girlfriend of his godfather. Whatever he thinks, just like Remus, won’t change how I feel about you. And on the bright side, I think Remus is coming around. Told you it takes time.”
You hummed. Your eyelids fluttered shut and it didn’t take long until you were asleep. Sirius waved his hand to dim the lights to help you rest. He hoped no one would come in and bother you, especially Severus given his threat and Sirius immediately ignoring it. No one did come in and you got your wish of Sirius staying the night with you.
Okay HELLO I just want to say 1) I love your writings and 2) holy cow your sirius x snapes daughter fic has infected my mind since I read it. I never would have expected how into it I am. Would you ever consider writing a follow up for it? I cant stop thinking about them realizing that,, this is actually working out and now they have to figure how to tell remus, harry, and.....Snape himself. I just love the thought of them sneaking around and having to dodge their thoughts (Snape and legilimency YIKES) but surprisingly still getting away with it. I feel like Tonks despite (or maybe because of) her own pining would be the first to catch on. I just love the secret dating/forbidden romance trope and this is so so fun and I love the OotP timeline set up. I kept wondering too if reader would get a chance to show her defense skills and not just potioneering. If you're not up for it no worries!! But just know that you have me seated and ready, sippin my drink and entirely invested
Hi! Thank you for all the love ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ This story is hitting harder than I was anticipating, but the people ask or a part 2, I give a part 2. And there will be a part 3 at some point. When? That is up to the writing gods.
Hope y'all enjoy ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎
Snape Spawn ii
Sirius Black x Snape!reader
part one, part three, part four
5k words
cw: age gap!, Y/N, sneaking around, fluff
You closed the door to Grimmauld Place quietly behind you. You had Chinese takeaway in your arms as you scanned the entry. No Remus in sight, which was good you thought. You’re not sure how you’d explain why you were here. You hadn’t gotten that far. You headed up the stairs and knocked on Sirius’ bedroom door.
“Not feeling great, Moons. I’ll eat something later,” Sirius called through the door.
You turned the handle, barely pushing the door open. “Would some Chinese make you feel better?”
Within a moment, Sirius was pulling you into his room and closing the door. The containers of food landed on the desk. He held you at arms’ length, debating if it would be appropriate to hug or kiss you; frankly, he wanted to do both.
“You’re actually here.”
You tilted your head. “We made plans, Sirius. And I figured eating here would be better than eating alone in my flat again.”
He chuckled and let his hands fall from your shoulders.
“Did Remus see you?”
“No. Don’t think he heard me either. I tried to be quiet.”
“Didn’t set my mother’s portrait off. That’s a good sign. Although, Remus might smell our dinner… I’ll figure something out to tell him.”
Sirius gives you a smile before turning toward the containers and looking through them, seeing what you all got.
“Wasn’t sure what you’d like so I got a few things. All things I like so take whatever and I’ll be good.”
“Hmm… Appears you have good taste…”
He selected a container and set of chopsticks before sitting on the floor. You mirrored him – his back was to the wall and yours to his bed. You sat in silence, eating for a minute or so.
“Tell me ‘bout yourself,” you said in between bites.
Sirius doesn’t answer right away, opting to take another bite of his food. You supposed it was probably the first date that he’d been on in a long while, but surely he’s had to get to know people since escaping Azkaban. It wasn’t like he was alone in Grimmauld Place all the time.
“I’m a scorpio. Like dogs and motorcycles. Used to have one, you know. Before… everything.” You nodded, encouraging him to keep going. “My best friends are dead, a traitor and probably in the sitting room. James Potter, Peter Pettigrew and Remus. We used to have such a good time together. Complemented each in ways that had McGonagall pulling her hair out.”
“What did you do?”
“Some harmless pranks, kid stuff. Except we were all brilliant and a tad reckless.”
“And something tells me some of them weren’t harmless.”
“Possibly mortifying for some? If you want to see one of the ugliest sides of me, just talk to, ahem, Severus.”
You gave a dry laugh. “I don’t think I’m going to be asking Dad about you any time soon.”
Sirius smiled at you.
“Also, I like that your first thing you said was your zodiac sign,” you laughed before telling him your own. “Do you believe in sign compatibility?”
He shrugged. “Only if ours are compatible.”
“Good answer,” you chuckled. “Did you take Divination?”
“Merlin, no. Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. Loved Runes-” Sirius gestured to himself and his collection of rune-related tattoos. “-if that wasn’t obvious. Arithmancy, not so much.”
“Hmm. Besides your pranks, were you a good student?”
“I passed,” he said nonchalantly. “I’m good with a wand, I know my spells. Not as good at brewing as you are and I’ve killed my fair share of plants.”
“Oh, sure, flatter me.” You shake your head slightly.
“What? It’s true! After Severus, you’re the only other person we could ask to brew Wolfsbane.”
“I’m a part of the order,” you said, pointing your chopsticks at him.
“Yes, but you brewed it perfectly. Even with… a distraction in the room.”
“A distraction that kissed me, mind you. That’s certainly one way to distract me more.”
“And you still brewed it perfectly.” Sirius flashed you a cocky grin. “So tell me about yourself. What do you do besides immaculate potions?”
“I mean, it does take up most of my time. My shop, you know. I live above it so I don’t have a commute. I hang out with my friends from school sometimes, but they are all pretty busy with their jobs. We still find time to get a drink at the Leaky Cauldron from time to time. Erm… Been trying to read more lately. Some fun muggle books that I find in secondhand shops.”
“Secondhand book shops, you should suggest some to Remus. He’d appreciate it,” Sirius said with a nod. “What book are you currently reading?”
“There’s this mystery series, Sherlock Holmes. Only four actual books, but there are so many short stories about him.”
“Oh? You’re liking it so far?”
You nodded.
“You should bring me one. I’ll read it.”
You started talking about other books you’ve read recently and Sirius listened more intently than you expected him to. What surprised you even more was when Sirius talked about the books he read in time after Hogwarts and before Azkaban – he was an avid reader. He said he missed having access to bookstores and libraries, yet another downside to being trapped in Grimmauld Place.
After you finished eating, you moved to sit next to Sirius. You asked him what this neighborhood was like when he was growing up; he told you stories about him sneaking out to walk the streets and visit muggle stores. He didn’t like being trapped in the house back then and he still doesn’t. You rested your head on his shoulder, listening to his voice. Subconsciously, your hand found his and traced lazy shapes on the back of it.
After a while, you yawned and said, “It’s getting late… I should probably get going.”
“You are always welcome to stay the night,” Sirius said with a hint of hopefulness in his voice.
“You know I can’t. Not yet.” You looked up at Sirius with a sweet smile. “Walk me out?”
He nodded, standing up and extending his hand to help you up. Sirius opened his bedroom door quietly, looking up and down the hallway and stairs. As you followed him out, you could tell that sneaking around his house was an old habit. It’s evident in how he moves. Only he was escaping from his parents when he was younger; now he’s hiding you from Remus. He pressed a kiss to your forehead before cautiously opening the front door for you to slip out. Grimmauld Place successfully had a visitor without anyone else knowing.
Within the month, you were visiting Sirius multiple times a week. Sometimes you hung around Remus, just sharing dinner with other members of the Order or having tea. It was easy to brush off you being around Grimmauld Place at times, saying that you don’t want to miss anything so you’re hanging around Order Headquarters. Other times, Sirius came up with various excuses for Remus to not disturb him for the evening and then would slink out of the front door. You’d be waiting around the block, ready to apparate the two of you back to your flat. Sirius often laughed that it reminded him of being young again.
In your flat, you could do more things than you could in Sirius’ room. You cooked together, baked together, watched muggle TV and movies, listened to music, read and just about anything you could think of. It wasn’t going out to shops and restaurants where Sirius ran the risk of being recognized, but it was something. The most difficult part of it was getting Sirius to leave and go back into Grimmauld Place. You understood it the more you knew him.
Your friends picked up that you were seeing someone, but you kept it quiet. You shared so few details about Sirius that if you hadn’t been spending so much time with him, they might not have believed he existed. He also wasn’t the greatest at putting love bites in places you could cover easily. Good thing your customers didn’t care what you looked like, as long as your product maintained its quality. It did.
Getting to see Sirius, even if visually platonically, made Order meetings something you could look forward to. No one seemed to question your friendship with Sirius. You assumed it was because you had spent a fair amount of time during missions together at Grimmauld Place. So when Sirius greeted you with a hug before the first November meeting, it didn’t draw anyone's eyes. Except for Severus’.
Your father frowned deeply at the sight. Like usual, you sat next to Tonks at the meeting. You avoided looking at Severus and only cast Sirius occasional glances. You didn’t want to be too obvious. Periodically throughout the meeting, you felt a presence in your brain; you immediately knew what it was. You cleared your mind and forced Severus out. You put up walls and focused on that for most of the meeting.
“Y/N, we’re going to need you for this one. You, Lupin, Tonks,” Shacklebolt said, ensuring that you three were listening.
You perked up immediately. This was going to be your first real mission and you’d be damned if you messed it up. Without looking, you knew that Sirius was smirking at you and your obvious excitement. You were finally getting in on some of the action. Your excitement only shrank slightly as Shacklebolt went into the mission’s details, but it was still something.
You talked briefly with Tonks and Remus after the meeting. You needed to make sure you were all on the same page before the actual mission was to take place in a few days. When you turned to find Sirius, hoping to talk to him before you needed to leave, you spotted your father lingering in the hallway outside of the kitchen. You steadily walked up to him.
“Stay out of my head. If I have something to tell you, I will,” you said firmly, looking into his cold, dark eyes. You knew that if you didn’t look him in the eyes, he wouldn’t believe you.
“Will you?” he drawled.
“Yes.”
Then you continued out the door. If you stayed any longer, Severus might have interrogated you and you’re not sure if you could have kept up a front for all of that. You just hoped that Sirius had enough common sense to go to his room and avoid your dad. Being a Snape, you had a natural ability for Legilimency and Occlumency; being Severus’ daughter, he made sure you knew how to utilize both. He didn’t predict that he would need to use it on you. Sirius, on the other hand, hadn’t been raised by Severus and wasn’t trained in Occlumency as far as you knew. If Severus tried to delve into Sirius’ mind, you weren’t sure what he’d find.
You didn’t hear anything from Severus in the days leading up to your mission. You also didn’t see Sirius in that time. Any nerves you had about Severus finding out disappeared when you walked into Grimmauld Place to meet Remus and Tonks before your mission. Sirius winked at you before disappearing upstairs. Luckily, Remus and Tonks were chatting in the kitchen so they didn’t witness that.
The mission, as bland as it was, ended up being a success. You went undetected and obtained the information you needed. It wasn’t great news for the Order, but it was necessary. You hated how you were disappointed that you didn’t have to defend yourself at all, but when you recounted the whole thing to Sirius the next day in his room over American takeaway, he made it feel so action-packed. Then when you told him the mission felt rather boring, he comforted you and said there would be more chances to prove yourself in the future, whether that was for better or worse.
The week leading up to Christmas was eventful with Arthur Weasley getting attacked while patrolling the Department of Mysteries. Molly and Arthur essentially moved back into Grimmauld Place and when he was released from St. Mungo’s, you were spending more and more time at Grimmauld Place as well. You practically had a permanent potion station set up in the sitting room, ensuring that Arthur never went without a healing potion. While you reminded them that you’re not a healer, you could provide the potions that they needed.
By the time the Weasleys, Harry and Hermione arrived for their Christmas break, you’re all but living at Grimmauld Place. Fred and George were excited about this. All of them complained about the current Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, which you’d heard things about at Order meetings. Dolores Umbridge wasn’t someone you wanted to meet.
You tried to keep your distance from Sirius while everyone was around. This was time that Sirius could spend with his godson and you didn’t want to take any of that away from him. There was also a higher risk of someone catching you two together with so many people in the house, including the various members of the Order who popped in.
“Y/N, can you help me with something upstairs?” Sirius asked you after dinner on Christmas Eve.
“Erm, yeah. One second,” you replied.
You were helping Ginny, Tonks and Molly clear the table when he asked. You finished that, wiped your hands on your jeans and followed Sirius out of the kitchen. You grabbed a small package from where you had hid it under your coat as Sirius continued up the stairs.
In the millisecond you looked away from him, he disappeared. You went up the stairs, trying to find where he went, and you wanted to laugh at yourself when you arrived at his room and the door was slightly ajar.
“Sirius?” you asked softly, pushing the door more open.
He pulled you into the room and closed the door behind you. On his bed was a wrapped present.
“Happy Christmas, love” he whispered into your ear before kissing you.
“Happy Christmas,” you mumbled, smiling into the kiss.
You kept it brief, not knowing how long you could be hidden in Sirius’ room before people got suspicious. You broke the kiss and revealed your present for him.
“Is it okay if we exchange these up here? I, erm, didn’t get anyone else anything…”
Sirius chuckled at that. “That’s why I brought you up here. I mean, and so I could kiss you. But that’s beside the point.”
He took the present from your hands and sat on his bed. You sat next to him, picking up the present on the bed and holding it in your lap. He tore into the paper. You watched his face light up as he flipped through a few pages of the book.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d read it before. Shakespeare is really popular with the muggles and I’ve read this one a few times over. It’s one of his comedies.”
“A Midsummer’s Night Dream, no, I haven’t read this… Thank you,” he said.
“It’s the same edition I have so, erm, if it’s not too cheesy, I thought we could do a little book club with it? It’s a play so we could plan to read certain scenes before we see each other and then talk about it?”
Sirius set the book down in his lap and held your face so you looked him in the eyes. “I’d love that. And I can’t wait to read it. Really, thank you.”
You smiled as he leaned in to place a quick peck on your lips. Then he nodded at the present sitting in your lap.
“Alright, sweetheart, open yours.”
You peeled the tape up carefully, completely different to how Sirius opened your present. There were two boxes placed on top of each other. The smaller one was a green velvet box; inside of it was a silver necklace with a small pendant with an engraved constellation. You held it up to your face to get a closer look.
“It’s canis major…” Sirius said, sounding nervous for the first time since you’ve met him. “I was debating not giving it to you, though it might be too soon for something like that…”
“It’s beautiful, Sirius. Help me put it on?”
You gave him the necklace before lifting your hair so he could clasp it around your neck.
“How’s it look?”
“You look perfect.”
You blushed slightly as you returned your gaze to the other box from Sirius. You took the lid off to reveal an embroidered set of dueling gloves.
“Oh my Merlin…” you muttered as you tried on the left hand glove. “These must’ve cost a fortune!”
“They’re for when you go on more missions.”
For a moment, the two of you sat in silence. You were examining the gloves and Sirius was watching you do so. When you looked up, you pulled him into a hug and whispered thanks into his ear.
“We should probably head back down though. We’ve been gone for a while,” you sighed.
“Just one more thing,” Sirius said before kissing you again.
You giggled into his lips as his hands held your waist. He smiled brightly at you when he pulled away. The book got left in his room. You put on the necklace, tucking the pendant into your shirt as the two of you descended the stairs. Sirius then went ahead to the kitchen while you hid the gloves in your jacket. No one would be any wiser that you and your boyfriend had just exchanged gifts.
The rest of the evening went by without a hitch and soon enough you were wishing everyone a good night and heading out the door with Tonks. You made sure to give Sirius one last smile before leaving. Before you even got off the stoop, Tonks put her hand on your shoulder.
“Y/N, there something going on between you and Black?” she asked, direct and to the point.
You tilted your head, feigning confusion. Although some of the confusion wasn’t fake – how had she picked up on it when you were being so discrete?
“No? What do you mean?”
She let her hand fall and shrugged. “Thought I saw a look between you. And he needed your help with that mystery task earlier. Neither of you said what it was.”
“If there’s any look, it’s because we’re friendly. We chat before meetings, when I’m brewing. He makes alright company. And he wanted me to help clean up around my brewing station. No biggie.”
You really hoped that no one was asking Sirius what the task was. He would likely give them a different answer and then you’d have to explain why. You and Sirius hadn’t actually talked about when you’d tell people that you were seeing each other. You were still sneaking around, albeit part of that was because Sirius wasn’t supposed to be leaving Grimmauld Place. But you exchanged presents in the privacy of his room. That had to mean something.
You stayed in on Christmas Day, using the day to relax and catch up on stuff around your shop. Between brewing for Arthur, spending time at Grimmauld Place in general and spending time with Sirius, you were letting your stock run lower than you usually liked. It was good for you to catch up beyond just needing to have products on your shelves. You could let your mind go blank when you brewed, or you could use the time to think.
You did think. You decided that you needed to talk to Sirius about telling people. You couldn’t keep your relationship a secret forever, especially not if you wanted to get serious. You listed off people who would be priority: Harry, Remus, Severus. The big three. And then you’d tell your friends and so on. But those three would need to be the first you told.
You went over to Grimmauld Place on Boxing Day, and you were greeted with a chorus of voices. You headed straight to the sitting room to brew Arthur’s potions. It didn’t take long for Sirius to find you. You knew he was listening for your arrival.
“Hey, can we talk about something?” you asked, glancing at the door.
“Oh, um, yeah…” Sirius looked uncertain but closed the door and cast a muffling charm. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, per se,” you started slowly, “but Tonks did ask if there was something going on between us. And that got me thinking. It’s been a few months and I don’t want to sneak around forever.”
Sirius’ uncertainty melted into something softer, caring.
You continued, “I think we should tell people soon. Probably start with the Big Three.”
“The Big Three?” he asked with a smirk. He had moved to be standing next to you as you worked on the potion.
“Yes. Remus. Harry. My dad.” You swallowed thickly. “Frankly, I have a feeling they’ll all hate it but for different reasons.”
Sirius scoffed. “So what if they hate it? They aren’t a part of this.”
“No, they aren’t. But they are large parts of our lives. They are important.”
“Darling, they can get over themselves. What they think isn’t as important as you might think.”
You shook your head, adding some mushroom stems to your cauldron.
“I don’t want you to push away Remus and Harry for me. I know they mean the world to you. And my dad… Well, he’s family.”
“Hey, hey, hey,” Sirius said, now crouching next to you and gently reaching out to turn your chin toward him. “Remus and Harry do mean a lot to me, but what they think about us, together… It won’t change how I feel about you. And, Y/N, I love you.”
You stared at him with wide eyes. Neither of you had said that to each other yet. You expected it to come after you told people that you were dating, certainly not before. Sirius’ eyes were searching your face for some reaction. Whether or not you said it back didn’t change how he feels about you, and it wasn’t like he was going to walk away from you. You were asking about telling people so you must’ve been happy with him.
“Love?” he asked after what felt like an eternity of your staring.
“Yeah?” you breathed.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah… Yeah, I’m good.” Your voice came back to you. “I just wasn’t expecting… that.”
Sirius stood up and put his hands in his pockets as he watched you continue to work on the potion.
“So we’ll start telling people,” Sirius said. “Just like if it comes up or is relevant? I mean, unless you want some formal announcement?”
“Ah… Erm, give me one second,” you said, counting out loud how many times you stirred the cauldron counterclockwise. After you hit twenty, you stood up and barreled to Sirius to hug him. “I love you too,” you murmured into his chest.
He barely heard it, but he did. You loved him. He placed a soft kiss on the top of your head.
“So, big announcement or casual conversation, love?”
You looked up at him, eyes sparkling. “Casual conversation and hope that people don’t talk too much.” You chuckled. “Imagine my dad hearing it from Harry or Remus… I don’t think he would ever talk to me again.”
After that, Sirius opened the door, dissipating the muffling charm. He sat in his usual chair and watched you finish brewing the first potion. You poured it into a bottle, set it off to the side and began preparing for the second potion. Every so often, you looked up to make eye contact with Sirius. You mirrored each other’s wide grins. You were also sporting a subtle blush, that you would blame on the heat of your cauldron if asked about it.
“Oi, Snape, you up there?” George’s voice called from somewhere outside of the sitting room.
“Yup! Brewing!” you yelled.
Within seconds, the twins entered the room, eyes briefly flicking from you to Sirius and back to you.
“We have questions for you,” Fred said.
“Alright.”
You saw Sirius stand up to leave the room out of the corner of your eye. When the twins didn’t acknowledge him leaving, you knew their questions weren’t about your relationship status.
“We’re looking into starting a joke shop in Diagon Alley. Got someone to showing us a few places next week before we head back to school.”
“Oh, that’s brilliant! Be nice to have some younger shopkeeps around.”
“Yeah. We were wondering if you’d come along? Make sure the rents and such sound okay?” George asked.
“Erm, yeah. Just tell me what day and I’ll make sure I’m available.”
“And we want to pick your brain on some business plans,” George continued.
“I’m here all the time. You can pick my brain now, later, whenever. Even when you go back to school, you can write me.”
“Fantastic,” Fred said before launching into questions about how reliable their business plan was sounding.
You delivered the finished potions to Arthur and Molly and got roped into a game of exploding snap. You ended up staying at Grimmauld Place longer than you originally intended. They insisted you stay for dinner. And that led to several bottles of elfmade wine being drained along with you flaunting your ability to craft delicious cocktails.
You hadn’t planned on drinking that much, but the energy of the night kept you drinking glass after glass. You hit a point where you were in no state to walk or apparate home. You tried to leave but Sirius stopped you.
“Y/N, love, you’re staying here tonight. Come on,” he muttered, face close to your ear.
Then he helped you upstairs and to his room. You collapsed onto his bed before he could even close the door behind him. Sirius dug through his closet until he found something you could sleep in. He helped you change, despite your protests that you were now too comfy to even move, and then he tucked you under the covers. He kissed your forehead as you drifted.
When you woke up, you were disoriented. You didn’t immediately recognize the sheets. You certainly didn’t recognize the clothes you were wearing. But you knew the arm that was draped over your middle and when you actually looked around you, it dawned on you that you were in Sirius’ room. You had spent the night. Your headache was a reminder of how much you actually drank last night.
“Morning, beautiful,” Sirius said groggily.
“Good morning,” you said, rolling over so you could see his face. “Hmm, this is something I could get used to…”
“What is? Waking up hungover?”
“No… Waking up next to you.”
Sirius smiled, pulling you into his chest. “I certainly don’t mind it.”
When you rolled out of bed, Sirius dug through his closet and armoire to find you something else to wear. You told him you could wear yesterday’s clothing, but he insisted on finding you fresh clothes. Once dressed, you headed downstairs for breakfast. You didn’t even consider that the rest of the house might be up.
“Y/N? I didn’t hear you come in,” Remus said when you sat down at the table.
“Oh, um…” You struggled to answer.
“Actually, I don’t recall you leaving last night. Did you sleep here?” Fred asked, pointing his fork at you.
“I-”
“You did!” Fred exclaimed. “You so did!”
“Where’d you even sleep?” George asked.
Sirius’ room. Nope. You couldn’t just say that. Yes, you said that you would tell people about your relationship with Sirius. Breakfast with Remus, George, Fred, Ginny and Hermione didn’t feel like the right time.
“My room,” Sirius answered for you. “Turns out I have a very comfortable floor. Who would’ve thought?”
“Right…” Remus said, taking in that you were wearing Sirius’ clothes.
Remus had known Sirius for too long; he knows that Sirius hates sleeping anywhere but a bed. There was no chance that Sirius slept on the floor. He let the topic drop for breakfast but made a mental note to talk to Sirius about it later.
When everyone scattered throughout the house doing their own things, Remus found Sirius in his room with the door open. He was reading the book you got him for Christmas. Remus stepped into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
“Did you shag her?” His voice was quiet but steady.
Sirius didn’t even look up from his book. “No.”
He knew Remus meant last night – that was the only thing keeping his answer from being a lie. Remus narrowed his eyes at Sirius. He was searching for Sirius’ tells, but there weren’t any.
“So she just slept in your bed. And you slept on the floor.”
“I… may have been in the bed with her. But we didn’t shag.”
Remus tutted. “She’s Snape’s kid.”
“And?”
“You’ve been getting close with her.”
“I have. We’re quite close. It happens when you spend a lot of time with someone,” Sirius stated, closing his book. “I’d say I’m rather close with you too.”
Remus stayed quiet for a moment as he studied Sirius. He shook his head.
“You’re not telling me something.”
“What am I not telling you?” Sirius asked, unable to prevent his smirk from forming.
“Merlin, she’s Snape’s kid!”
“Moony, what are you asking?”
“Are you… Merlin, Padfoot… Please tell me you’re not.”
Sirius barked a laugh. “We are.”
“You have to be kidding me… Fuck…” Remus ran a frustrated hand down his face, briefly turning away from Sirius. “How long has this been… a thing?”
“Few months.”
“Months?”
“Months.”
“That’s why she’s been spending so much time here.”
“Part of it, yeah.”
“Who all knows?”
“You.”
Remus choked on air. “Me? That’s it?”
“We’re getting ready to tell people. Just waiting for the right time.”
“You… You should not be so relaxed about this! I’m sorry, Pads, but I don’t see how it lasts. And, Merlin, this is Snively’s kid. You know that, right?”
“I’m very aware. She wants to be the one to tell him, so don’t go bringing it up.”
“That’s the best plan for your survival…”
“So, you good? Or do you need to yell at me?”
“I… I… I don’t know,” Remus stuttered. “Just… ugh. I don’t know. It feels wrong.”
“Not to us.”
“That… doesn’t help.”
Remus walked out of Sirius’ room. Sirius picked up his book with a small smile playing at his lips. One person down, two to go.
Here I am again, my favorite Harry Potter fandom writer :)
I saw something on TikTok, but I lost it because the page was refreshed before I could watch the end and see the creator of the video. But it gave me an idea:
Severus Snape's daughter x Marauders (which you know my preference is always Sirius 😘)
Severus doesn't have much love for his child since Lily is not her mother, but as a father who is aware of his own family history, he makes sure that his daughter lives a relatively happy life in good conditions. She will probably have a natural talent for potions and defense against the dark arts.
In this case, I honestly didn't think how to connect her to Sirius, there would probably be an age difference problem… ah but I want to hope that my favorite author can do something about impossible love 💕❤️😍
Cora! ❤︎ This did become an age-gap fic (approx. 16 years between reader and Sirius). I spent so much time on HP wiki trying to figure out canon birth years. I set it in OotP with a post-Azkaban Sirius.
Hopefully this works for impossible love ❤︎ I mean, Sirius is always gonna hate Severus but that doesn't mean Sirius can't love his daughter!
Snape Spawn
Sirius Black x Snape!reader
part two, part three, part four
6.7k words
cw: age gap!, Y/N, pining?, snog, fluff if you squint
In the aftermath of losing Lily for calling her a mudblood, Severus became a pathetic mess. He lived more and more inside of his head just to survive. When he went home for the summer, he didn’t have the respite of Lily’s company when his parents became too much. To put it shortly and concisely, he found comfort in some girl’s arms, a girl also tempted by Voldemort’s preaching.
When he returned to Hogwarts in the fall, she wrote to him. He was going to be a father.
The girl didn’t survive much past your birth. Your grandparents took care of you for a few years, until they reached an age where they were unfit to do so. They returned you to Severus, being that he was now of age and able to fulfil his role of father.
He did so, although not gratefully.
You were raised in a tolerable home. Severus knew he couldn’t bring up a child in a home similar to the one he was raised in, so he did his best to ensure that you were happy. He found himself wishing you were the offspring of Lily, rather than some girl who would’ve joined the ranks of Voldemort. He kept you in the dark when he did join the Death Eaters. You were to be protected.
When Voldemort fell and Severus became a double agent, you were still unaware of everything. He took a job at Hogwarts as the Potions master, per Dumbledore’s request. You were watched over by a couple in Hogsmeade while he worked.
When you came of age, you attended Hogwarts, being sorted into Slytherin. Some people immediately questioned if Severus was fair when grading your assignments for his class; you had only received O’s from him. Despite your high grades across the board, next highest being Defense Against the Dark Arts, there was enough suspicion for Dumbledore to step in. When the headmaster deemed that your work was exceptional and far above the rest of your peers, the concerns settled down.
Your expertise in potion making rivaled that of your fathers, as did your passion for it. You made plenty of extra potions in your spare time. You had a complete collection of potions in your dorm. You would sell some for non-academic purposes, the most popular being various healing potions. You also supplied the veritaserum for Truth or Dares at parties. Despite being the daughter of the least-liked professor at Hogwarts, you were fairly well liked.
After you graduated, you opened an Apothecary in Diagon Alley. You and Severus spoke less and less. As he saw it, you were no longer his responsibility. And really, you weren’t. You didn’t reach out to him. Just the occasional letter to him at Christmas and his birthday and you received a letter on yours.
Then you got a letter from Severus that confused you. It said ‘Happy Birthday’ but your birthday had passed and you had already received your annual letter. There was something else off about the letter: several words were misspelled. Out of curiosity, you wrote down the correct letters and it spelled out a potion. It was one you always had in stock, although it was particularly difficult to brew. You knew it was a long shot and probably wouldn’t do anything, but you took the potion and poured it over the letter.
A short message appeared at the bottom.
Danger lies ahead. Meet me.
And then an address appeared with instructions.
You were quite confused when you arrived at 12 Grimmauld Place. You followed the directions left for you. You were even more confused when after you knocked on the door, you heard screaming from inside and then Remus Lupin opened the door.
“Erm, Professor?” you asked.
He stepped aside and let you in.
“Snape, she’s here!” he yelled down the hallway and then up the stairs, “Someone shut that portrait up!”
“Y/N,” Severus said, standing in the doorway at the end of the hallway. “You came.”
You held out the letter before saying deadpan, “It’s not my birthday.”
You looked past your father into a kitchen filled with people. Most of them were adults older than you, closer to your father’s age and older. Nymphandora Tonks was probably the person closest to your age. You looked back at Severus.
“What is this? What danger-?” you started to ask.
“Bring the girl in, we’ll fill her in with the door shut, please,” a firm, female voice said from within the kitchen.
Severus turned and you followed him into the kitchen, along with Remus. You recognized Molly and Arthur Weasley from graduation. You were in the same year as Percy, who was absent. The only other people you recognized were McGonagall and Mad-Eye Moody, from his picture in the paper.
You took a seat at the table and crossed your arms. You were waiting for an answer.
“So this is your spawn, Snivelly?” a smooth voice said from the end of the table that had been out of view from the door.
You turned your head to see Remus sit down next to Sirius Black. He looked more sane and put together than he did in all of his mug shots that littered the Daily Prophet two years ago.
“Merlin, when did you sire her? She’s older than Harry,” Sirius continued, eyeing you up and down.
It only made you narrow your eyes at him. The arrogance that he emanated didn’t sit well with you. You had a feeling that you weren’t going to like him, no matter how handsome you were beginning to think he was.
“None of your business,” Severus snarled, taking the seat next to you and putting himself between you and Sirius.
“She’s of age. Otherwise she wouldn’t be here and we wouldn’t be about to tell her about the Order,” Remus said.
The way that Remus looked at Sirius told you that Sirius would be filled in on you later. Remus had been one of your favorite professors at Hogwarts. It certainly helped that he taught your favorite subject and did a much better job at it than Lockhart did. Severus had warned you the moment Remus was hired that he was a werewolf. He had made you promise to remain in your dorm during full moons. Even with his Wolfsbane potion, Severus wanted Remus nowhere near you.
“The Order? Is someone going to explain? I had to close up shop early,” you said as you looked around the table.
“The Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore founded it when You-Know-Who first rose to power. And now that he’s back…” Arthur said. “Arthur Weasley, by the way.”
“So he is… he is back?” you asked, looking at your father for confirmation.
He nodded.
“We fought him once and we’ll fight him again,” Moody said gruffly.
You folded your hands in front of you. You swallowed thickly, once again looking from person to person around the room.
“Where do I come into this?” you asked quietly.
“They want you to join,” Severus said. “They assumed you’d want to fight. Particularly, Lupin.”
You leaned forward to get a clear look at Remus and cocked an eyebrow when you made eye contact.
“You’re a talented witch, Y/N. You’ll want to be on the right side of this,” Remus said.
You thought about the idea of fighting. If Voldemort really was back, you knew there would be another war brewing and which side you would support.
“How do I help? What do I need to do?”
“Told you she’d agree,” Remus told Severus, a smirk appearing on his face.
Mad-Eye and Arthur went into a deeper discussion about what the Order did, how secretive they needed to be, how they would communicate with you. Remus added a random comment here and there. You nodded as you listened intently. You gave Severus the occasional glance but he sat with a stoney expression. Beyond him, Sirius watched you with an amused look that you didn’t like. In your opinion, this meeting of the Order was no place for an expression like that.
After the delegation of assignments and missions, Molly looked at you and said, “You’re welcome to stay for dinner if you’d like.”
“Oh, um, I don’t know…”
Severus put his hand on your shoulder, grabbing your attention.
“I’ll see you at the next meeting,” he said before disappearing out of the kitchen.
You briefly turned your head to watch him leave. You chuckled to yourself. Typical.
“Meeting’s over?” Hermione asked, entering the kitchen.
“Mum, what is for dinner?” Ron added, following her.
You and Molly moved to the side to allow for the new people entering and the members leaving. Then two pops could be heard from the hallway before Fred and George came in. Their eyes locked in on you.
“Snape! Long time!” George called, wearing a grin that matched his twin’s.
“Weasley one and two. How’d you two survive last year without me?”
“Dreadful. Had to find a new way into the Slytherin Common Room,” Fred answered. “Are you staying for dinner?”
“I guess I am now. Didn’t know you were here.”
“Wow, we rank that high?” Fred asked, giving you a wink and earning an eye roll from you.
“You rank because you funded the first few months of my shop’s rent,” you deadpanned before breaking into a smile. “And I want to know why you needed so many wiggenwelds.”
As the people in the kitchen shifted, you found yourself sat at the table again. This time, as you sat across from the twins with Tonks to your left, you felt older, less like the child in the room. Arthur, Molly, Remus and Sirius were the only other members of the Order who remained.
You turned to Tonks and muttered, “I thought this was going to be more of a… Order meal.”
She shook her head and gave Molly a weary glance. You both knew you weren’t supposed to talk about Order stuff around the younger kids, but you thought it was safe enough.
“Not many stay. Molly invites them every time.”
Then the twins took over your attention. They told you about what they got up to your last year at Hogwarts when they bought healing potion after healing potion from you. They recounted the Triward Tournament and everything that happened last year. At one point, you explained to Tonks how you let the twins into the Slytherin Common Room on several occasions so that they could prank some of your more foul housemates.
Sirius wouldn’t admit it, but he was listening intently to your conversation and stealing momentary glances of you.
Some time after you left and everyone had dispersed throughout the house, Remus sat with Sirius in the drawing room.
“When did you find out Snivellus had a kid?” Sirius asked.
“When her name appeared on my roster.”
“You taught her? And you didn’t tell me?”
“I hadn’t seen you in twelve years, Padfoot. It didn’t seem important. Why do you care so much?”
Sirius didn’t answer. He didn’t know why your existence was so intriguing to him. Maybe it was the shock that Severus had actually managed to be intimate with someone. Sirius had watched you all through the meeting and then practically all dinner. Seeing you interact with Tonks and the twins, and everyone really, made it clear that you were a much different person than Severus.
“You said she’d want to join. What made you think that?”
“You remember how Severus was in school, with the dark arts?” Remus asked. “She had that same intense interest, except in Defense. Wasn’t a better student in her year. I was shocked when I heard she wasn’t going for an Auror position.”
“Didn’t she say something about a shop?”
Remus nodded. “Follows Snivy in that sense. Runs an apothecary in Diagon Alley.”
“I’m still not over that Snivellus has a kid…” Sirius muttered with a sigh.
---
Over the next few weeks, you met more and more of the Order’s members. Each meeting was a different combination of people. Molly, Arthur, Remus and Sirius were the only consistents. The Weasleys were fine, as was Remus. He insisted that you call him by his name, being that he was no longer a professor and you were no longer a student. It took time.
And then there was Sirius. This handsome man who looked at you with ever-changing expressions. One day he would be intrigued by you and the next he would be disgusted. You exchanged very few words with him. He was always on the other side of the room. And yet, your eyes often locked with his.
“Remus, we need you to come with us,” Molly called from the door. “Y/N, can you stay? We’ll need healing potions when we get back.”
“Erm, yeah. Yeah, I can stay. Is there-” you started to ask.
“Potions station? Upstairs. Have Sirius show you,” Remus said before following Molly and Arthur out of the house.
Once the door closed, you sighed. You hadn’t been on a mission yet, and you knew it was because of how young you were. It was a bit frustrating. You were of age. They asked you to be a part of the order. And here you were, staying behind to be a potioneer. Yes, you were good at it, but you were also exceptional at dueling. Remus had told you that before.
You looked around for Sirius. He wasn’t in the kitchen or anywhere on the main floor. You checked the various rooms as you ascended the stairs. You asked the Weasleys and Hermione if they’d seen him and all you got were shrugs in response. Great.
Then, with a sigh because it was so obvious, you knocked on his bedroom’s door.
“What?” his voice bellowed from inside.
“Sirius, I, erm, I need a potion station? Profess-, ahem, Remus said to ask you for it,” you said loudly to ensure your voice carried through the closed door.
There was a moment of silence before the sounds of him grumbling and getting up before he opened the door. He was more casually dressed than you had ever seen him. You were caught off guard by how effortlessly handsome he was.
“Wait in the drawing room. I’ll bring it down.”
You nodded. Sirius turned to go higher up the stairs and you went the opposite direction. You paced around the drawing room while you waited for him to return. You set up your travel package of potion ingredients. You knew that the Order had some stock, but something told you that your personal stock would be of higher quality and you preferred it when you knew where each ingredient came from. The sources could really affect the effectiveness of a potion.
You jumped when the potion station clanked through the door, followed by a string of swears from Sirius.
“Sorry, just this damn thing…”
You looked at it with a subtle gasp.
“Merlin, that’s ancient.”
Once it was in the room, you took over levitating it toward the middle of the room so you would have plenty of room to maneuver around it.
“Well, it was my parents so…” Sirius’ voice trailed off, his eyes studying your every move. “Can’t say how much it actually got used around here.”
“I keep forgetting this is your parents’ place. Must be strange to have it turned into headquarters when you grew up here.”
You started a fire and immediately went into work mode, starting a large batch of classic wiggenwelds. Sirius unceremoniously fell into a rickety armchair before getting comfortable. Surely watching you work would be more entertaining than staring at the ceiling in his room.
“Strange doesn’t even begin to cover it.”
Without looking up from the cauldron, you asked, “How would you describe it then?”
“Horrible,” he said quickly. He didn’t even pause to think about it. “It’s a prison. It was when I was growing up here and it still is. Different kinds of torture, but it boils down to the same pain.”
You glanced at him through your eyelashes, only briefly as to keep the majority of your attention on the potion that was beginning to simmer. He looked utterly at ease in the chair.
“They say we can’t risk you getting captured. Dementor’s kiss and all.”
Sirius chucked. “They say… Like staying here isn’t sucking my soul out all the same.”
“It’s not exactly… cheerful.”
“My damned house elf was never a good housekeeper. Nor was my mother an interior designer. Parents took too much pride in their family heirlooms to consider taste.”
You hummed. “I take it you think you have taste, then?”
“Oh, I know I do. I mean, don’t take my room here for example. If you could see my room at the Potter Manor?” He shook his head with a sigh. “And I had barely settled after moving out when… when it all happened.”
You sat back on your heels, turning a muggle cooking timer you had in your pack. The potion needed to sit for some time.
“Do you want to talk about those years? Or should we change the subject?” you asked, placing some of your tools back into their case.
He barked a laugh and tilted his head back against the chair’s fraying material.
“Change the subject. There’s not much to say about sitting in a cell and rotting for twelve years.”
“Says the only man to escape Azkaban.”
“Different subject, darling.”
“Okay, okay. Can I ask why it feels like you’re always staring at me during meetings?”
“Easy. Because I am.”
The casualness in his answer took you by surprise. Who admits to staring at a person?
“Why?”
“You’re Snivy’s kid,” Sirius said like it was an obvious answer, but it made you frown.
“I take it you and my dad didn’t get along.”
“I wouldn’t say we were friends, no. But the feeling was mutual.”
“So Severus is my dad. Why does that make you stare?” you asked, standing up and crossing your arms over your chest. This time, it was you studying him, taking in every detail of his features.
Under your intense gaze, SIrius sat up in the chair and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.
“Trying to figure out how much like him you are.”
You hummed. “I’m sure someone told you it doesn’t matter if you like dad or me. There’s a bigger problem at hand that doesn’t require us to be friends.”
Sirius flexed his eyebrows in mild annoyance.
“It’s not friendship I’m looking for from you,” he said, sounding irritated that he had to explain this. “Can I trust you? Can we trust you?”
You scoffed and took a step backwards.
“Why wouldn’t you be able to trust me?”
“Because I don’t trust your father. I don’t care if Dumbledore does. I don’t care he claims to be a changed man. Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater.”
Suddenly, your expression changed into complete shock and disbelief. It hit Sirius that perhaps you didn’t know of your father’s history and the mark he bore on his left arm.
“Oh, you didn’t know…”
“Dad was… is… was…” you stuttered. “No… He-he can’t… What?”
“I’m sorry, I wouldn’t’ve said anything if I knew you didn’t know…”
“No,” you said, holding up a hand to silence Sirius. “I’m glad you told me. You really would think I would know that about my own father… Merlin…”
Sirius stood up and took exactly one step toward you. Then your timer went off. The cauldron captured all of your attention again. You removed it from the fire, stirred it and added the final ingredients. Sirius didn’t sit back down. He was too distracted with how you turned off your emotions to deal with the potion. It was like you suddenly didn’t care that a portion of your father’s identity had been hidden from you for your entire life because you had a duty, a duty to be prepared when the members of the Order returned.
“Sirius,” you said after a few minutes. “Thank you for telling me about my father.”
“They’re back!” Ginny yelled from downstairs.
“Great, help me take this down to the kitchen?” you asked, gesturing to the cauldron.
“Yeah, I’ll bring it. You go ahead, assess the damage done.”
You chuckled softly. “I’m no healer. Just a potioneer.”
---
Slowly, you started talking to Sirius before and after meetings. The ones Severus attended, you avoided his eye. You had never questioned some things before, and now you were. The more you thought on your childhood, things that previously seemed odd made sense, given Sirius’ revelation.
Severus wasn’t oblivious to your sudden coldness to him. He cornered you after one of the meetings.
“Are you feeling alright?” he asked.
“What?” you replied, barely able to bring yourself to look at him.
“You’re avoiding me,” Severus said plainly. “It’s unlike you.”
You shrugged before crossing your arms.
“So what if I am? You’re not who I thought you were.”
“I’m your father,” he hissed, leaning forward like he was trying to assert his dominance over you.
You kept your head held high. “Roll up your sleeves then, Father.”
Severus stood up straighter, taking a step backwards. He glanced around the room. Then he grabbed your arm and pulled you out of the kitchen.
“Come with me,” he snarled, dragging you up the stairs until you reached the drawing room. He closed the door behind you and casted a muffling charm. “Who told you?”
“Doesn’t matter. It should have been you.”
“It does matter, Y/N.”
You scoff, turning away from him. You didn’t see why it mattered who told you, just that it hadn’t been him. You knew now and you didn’t know how you could trust your father. You agreed with Sirius on that point; it didn’t matter if Dumbledore trusted him. You decided that your father had to re-earn your trust. You were his daughter, his own flesh and blood. How come he wasn't the one who told you?
“You made yourself a liability,” he said.
“Oh no, what’s going to happen? I can’t go on missions? Oh, wait, I haven’t been on one.”
“You’re starting to sound like… Merlin…” Severus said.
Severus stormed out of the room and practically flew down the stairs. Even from upstairs, you could hear his threats.
“Are you trying to turn her against me? Do you ever think about your actions?”
“I didn’t know Y/N didn’t know!” Sirius’ voice replied, carrying as much anger as your father’s did. “She deserved to know.”
“Severus! Sirius!” Molly yelled.
You could imagine what the kitchen looked like. Severus at Sirius’ throat. Despite the anger in his voice, Sirius would maintain an even expression, or it would be masked with a casual grin. Molly was certainly trying to get in between them.
“Molly, don’t you agree that Y/N should know of past alliances?” Sirius asked.
“Y/N, maybe. The rest of the house? No.”
You rolled your eyes as you left the drawing room and went down the stairs. You slipped out the front door before you could overhear any more of the argument. Something flipped in you and you didn’t feel like seeing Severus or Sirius in the aftermath of that meeting. You also didn’t want to talk to Molly and explain your part in it. You knew you wouldn’t be able to avoid it forever; there would be more Order meetings. But that wouldn’t be for a week, and people would be able to settle down.
The next week, you arrived early. You’re not sure why, but it felt like the thing to do. The Advance Guard was gathering. You weren’t a part of it, surprise surprise. You knew that Severus wouldn’t be, but he would arrive as close to meeting time as he could. Sirius would be around.
“Y/N, you’re not needed until later,” Remus said as you walked through the door and hung up your coat.
“I know,” you said casually. “But I can have tea in my flat, alone, or I can have tea here.”
You walked past the guard, which proved more difficult than it should have been as they stood in the narrow hallway. There was no one in the kitchen, which you found odd. It was usually the life of the house, especially before meetings. You knew the kids liked to linger in attempts to be overlooked so they could attend a meeting. Molly always spotted them and kicked them out. ‘Members only,’ she’d say to their protests as they declared that they’d like to join.
You put a kettle on and milled around, looking for the various things you need. Cup, tea leaves, sugar. Maybe a biscuit if they had some. You find everything you need just as the kettle whistles, and then you settle at the table.
It doesn’t take long before Sirius enters the kitchen, smiling when he sees you. He took the seat next to you. After a minute, he reached over to grab your cup and took a sip of your tea. He made a face as he placed it back in front of you.
“Got enough sugar in there?”
“Not a fan of this blend,” you deadpanned, which was a partial truth. You also just liked your tea on the sweeter side. “You excited to see Harry?”
Sirius tensed slightly but then he nodded.
“Yes. I wish he could’ve come sooner or we could’ve written him any kind of information…” He gave you a soft look. “It’s not like with you. He doesn’t have the ability to solve a riddle and brew up some potion to counteract a cursed piece of parchment. Bloody muggles he lives with…”
“I’ve heard stories,” you muttered. “They put bars on his windows at some point.”
Sirius’ eyes widened at that.
“They did what?”
“The muggles, um, Fred and George said they rescued him from some horrible situation a few years back. You’d have to ask them ‘bout it.”
Sirius nodded and the two of you fell into a mostly comfortable silence. Slowly, other members of the Order started to fill the kitchen and the seats at the table. The murmur of small talk broke up the silence. Then there was a commotion by the front door – Harry had arrived.
You remained seated as Molly and Sirius went to greet him and the Advance Guard. You made brief eye contact with Harry before he was ushered upstairs and Molly closed the kitchen door so the meeting could start. Sirius sat down next to you, but the air around him was changed.
You stayed for dinner again. In exchanging Order Members for the non-members, Sirius got up and sat down next to Remus. The spots on either side of you were filled by Fred and George. You sunk into your seat as Harry asked question after question about the Order as Sirius encouraged him and Molly shut him down. It was tense. You just wanted a warm home cooked meal, not an argument if the Harry Potter should be allowed into the Order and who was his family.
The meal took far too long in your opinion. You barely took the time to say goodbye before hurrying out the door and making your way back to your flat. You sighed in the darkness. You didn’t bother turning on the lights, not needing it to cross the small distance to your room. The emptiness of your flat reminded you that you liked the solitude of it. It wasn't busy or filled with raging arguments. It was calm. It was quiet. It was you.
The next few meetings, Sirius didn’t sit near you. He didn’t bother to say hello or bye. You practically glued yourself to Tonks, given she was the only person in the room who currently didn’t make you feel like a child. Yes, you were the baby of the group, but you didn’t need to feel like that. It didn’t help that you still hadn’t been chosen to go on a mission. Your main and only task was to stay behind and prepare potions in case the worst happens on the mission.
“I’m not a healer,” you reminded everyone time and time again, only to be dismissed.
You started leaving Grimmauld Place in a huff more often than not. Then you heard about the group selected to accompany Harry to King’s Cross. You didn’t even bother showing up to headquarters on September 1. No one was going to attack the boy at the train station, and you knew there would be no need for potions when the Order members returned. You’d hear about how Sirius tagged along in his animagus form during the next meeting. Great. Even Sirius technically got to go on a mission.
Your attitude toward the Order was worsening. You knew that it was the side to be on. You knew you signed up for this, but it really wasn’t living up to any expectations that you had. Then, Remus approached you with a desperate request. You couldn’t turn him down.
Sirius sat watching you as you worked on preparing the Wolfsbane potion. Remus was running out and Severus claimed to be too busy to brew it. You could’ve brewed it at your shop but something drew you to headquarters. So you sat in the drawing room with the ancient brewing station, a wide variety of ingredients and a potions book. You could feel Sirius’ eyes on you, taking in every motion.
“Do you need something?” you asked, an air of impatience to your voice.
Sirius doesn’t respond right away. He had been in his thoughts thinking about how when Severus was that intensely focused on a potion, Sirius would’ve made fun of him for it, but when it was you, it was fascinating and beautiful.
“No,” Sirius said firmly.
You spared him a glance. It barely lasted a second. Sirius made no effort to pretend that he wasn’t staring at you. You sighed. You weren’t a huge fan of having someone watch your every move while you brewed a potion. You were no longer in school; you didn’t need supervision.
“If you don’t need anything, why are you in here?”
“It’s my house,” he replied flatly.
“Look,” you said, standing up and brushing yourself off before slowly walking over to him. “I know you and my father don’t get along. But I’m brewing that-” You gestured back toward the cauldron. “For Remus, who is your friend. And I really don’t need any distract-”
You were cut off by Sirius’ lips pressing onto yours as he leaned upward. You hadn’t realized you were standing close enough to his chair for him to do that. You took a shocked step backwards. Sirius stood up with a smirk on his face.
“Thanks, on behalf of Remus. I’ll leave you to finish that. Uninterrupted. And if you need me, I’ll be in my room.”
No distractions. That is what you had been asking of Sirius and instead, he gave you one of the biggest distractions that he could. You watched him leave the room and then tried to regain your focus. You had a task at hand. A rather important one, if you asked anyone who knew of Remus’ condition. The liquid started to bubble and you swore, hurrying to stir in the next ingredient.
Your mind kept drifting back to Sirius and the fact that he kissed you. And then left? Well, you had been in the middle of asking him to leave, but still. You don’t kiss someone and leave. Not like that.
You finished brewing the Wolfsbane and poured it into a collection of vials. You took your time cleaning up, debating what you wanted to do. You were still debating it as you went to find Remus and give him the vials. The upcoming full moon was already taking effect on him. He looked more tired and weak than usual. You knew the potion helped but it was still a far cry from a cure-all.
Then you found the door that said ‘Sirius Orion Black’ on it. You stood outside it for at least a full minute before raising your hand to knock on it. But you didn’t knock. Not right away. You let your hand fall. Then you raised it again, and let it fall. On the third try, because third time’s the charm, you knocked. You could hear movement from inside the room and then he opened the door.
Sirius watched you with curious eyes as you walked into his room. He closed the door behind you. You scanned the room, scoffing at the posters of motorbikes and girls in bikinis.
“Classy,” you said. “This is the taste that your parents didn’t have?”
“If I recall, I said to not count my room here. I put all this up when I was like 13? 14? Give or take. And permanent sticking charms are more powerful than most people give them credit for.”
“Ah, that’d be the lack of understanding for the word permanent.”
Sirius chuckled at that and leaned against his desk. Once again, he was watching your every move. He couldn’t help the smirk that pulled at his lips as you cautiously sat down on his bed. You were still taking in the time capsule of Sirius’ childhood when you spoke.
“So, um, what was that? Downstairs.” You knew you sounded confused, unsure of how you felt about it.
“When you said that I don’t get along with your… with Severus,” he started, saying your father’s name with a moderate level of disgust, “you weren’t wrong. Apparently, I have strong emotions for Snapes. For him, it’s… ahem, not good. But you?” He took a breath and shook his head. “I can’t get you out of my head. At first I thought it was because you’re his kid. But it’s not that. It’s… Merlin, you’re something else, you know?”
You just stare at him. You didn’t quite understand what he was saying. This time it was your turn to watch him as he stood up from leaning against his desk and made his way toward you. He stood in front of you for a moment, running a gentle finger along your jaw from your ear down to your chin.
As he sat next to you, he added, “And I tried to stop what I feel for you. Bury it deep. But, fuck, Y/N, you’re irresistable…”
“So August was…”
“That was me telling myself this would never work. You’re a Snape. There’s no way you could want me like I want you.”
You wanted to laugh. Sirius was devilishly handsome and you found he was easy to get along with. You liked how he didn’t treat you like a child and understood why you felt less than in the Order, since you were both consistently left behind.
“What made you… change your mind?” you asked, turning so your body was angled toward him.
“I may be very much reading into it, but I don’t think so since you’re here now. But you brewed Remus’ potion here rather than your little apothecary shop. Thought that it might be because I’m here. And then you were about to call me a distraction.”
This time you did laugh.
“Cocky much? Assuming a distraction is a good thing?”
He leaned in so his face was only centimeters from yours. “Is it?”
You hated how your breath caught in your throat. You hated how Sirius obviously noticed with his smirk growing into a wide grin. He leaned in more. His lips weren’t quite touching yours but you swore you could feel them move as he spoke.
“It is, isn’t it?”
“Just kiss me again, Black,” you breathed.
That was all he needed to press his lips to yours again. You didn’t pull back this time. You leaned into him, kissing back with passion you hadn’t felt in years. Sirius had one hand cupping your face and the other holding onto your waist, holding your body in place. The voice in his head kept saying that any moment now you’d remember that Sirius is the same age as your father and it would disgust you. You kept proving the voice wrong with each passing second.
Soon enough you were no longer sitting on Sirius’ bed. You straddled him, pressing your body against his. Both his hands were traveling your body, feeling the softness of your skin under your shirt. You simply had an arm around his neck and a hand in his hair.
You felt like you had fire in your veins as Sirius’ lips left yours but kept pressing wet kisses to your skin. He moved to your jaw and down your neck until he found the sweet spot near your collarbone.
A firm knock on his door froze the both of you where you sat practically intertwined.
“Padfoot, I’m going for takeaway. Want anything?” Remus called through the door.
You pressed your mouth against Sirius’ shoulder to prevent yourself from giggling. There was something so utterly teenage about almost getting caught snogging. You and Sirius were both adults, but being walked in on by Remus would still have felt mortifying.
“Nah, mate, I’m good,” Sirius yelled back. His hands were still holding your side and back under your shirt.
“Alright.” There was a pause. “Did little Snape leave? I didn’t hear the door.”
You pulled back from Sirius’ shoulder with wide eyes. You didn’t know what you wanted him to stay. If Sirius said you were still here, Remus would probably ask if you wanted anything or where you were since you clearly weren’t anywhere else in the house. If he said you were gone and Remus decided to come in for some reason, Sirius would have to explain why he lied. Well, it would be obvious why he lied, but still. You figured it would be better if Sirius said you were gone and then you could sneak out while Remus was gone.
“She’s quiet, that one. Mum would’ve liked her,” Sirius replied and you nodded approvingly.
“Right. Okay. I’ll be back.”
You and Sirius sat silently. You listened to Remus descend the rest of the stairs and leave the house.
“I’ll have to be gone before he gets back,” you said.
“Or you could stay,” Sirius offered. “Say you forgot something or another.”
You placed a kiss on Sirius’ cheek. “Yeah? And then what?”
“Then…” Sirius drew out the word as if pondering your question. “You spend the night?”
You let out a dry laugh. “Oh, Sirius, I don’t fuck on the first date.” You patted his cheek gently before removing yourself from his lap. You tried not to look at the tent in his pants, the result of having you. “How about you make me dinner sometime?”
Sirius had frowned when you got up but it was quickly replaced with a smile when you suggested dinner.
“And if I’m no chef?”
You shrugged. “I could pick up takeaway. Or, if you’re really nice, I could make something.”
Then, realization hit you and you sat back down next to Sirius.
“If this happens,” you said, gesturing between you and Sirius, “we’ll have to tell my father.”
Sirius’ grin only grew, something wicked flickering in his eyes. “I can’t wait to tell him.”
“That’ll help you mend your past,” you muttered, earning a bark of a laugh from Sirius.
“I think we’re well past being able to mend anything, sweetheart,” he said. “But I can be cordial if it means I can have you.”
You jam a finger into his chest. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. So far all you are is a good snog.”
“A good snog, eh? High reviews.”
“Think you’re open on Friday?” you asked, standing up again and straightening your shirt.
“Let’s see,” Sirius said, mock-pondering. “Tomorrow, Friday, next week, next month… I’m open.”
“Right, sorry.” You gave Sirius a small smile. “Chinese sound good? I’ll pick it up and be over ‘round 7?”
