SIRIUS

de la mer, infusé d'astres

[snuffls]

hp character dynamics: the marauders

here they talked of revolution, here it was they lit the flame, here they sang about tomorrow, and tomorrow never came…

[dcgstar]

afortescue‌:

    She hadn’t expected anyone to be on the grounds this late – training was usually through hours ago – hence why she was here now. Alice never gets much practice in – not with the strict regimen of paperwork that Frank has her on. She feels out of shape with her skills ( maybe a tad physically as well ). 

      “Sirius Black – what a surprise. I figured you lot would’ve called it a night by now.” 

   His next words have her flushing red with embarrassment. Unlike the rest of the aurors in training, she wasn’t being run ragged at all – not unless one counts perfecting one’s penmanship as something under that umbrella. 

     “It’s not by choice – believe me. Apparently Frank thinks my skill-set is best suited to a life behind a desk.” 

“you lot,” sirius echoes, slinking closer to alice and flicking a mock-dark-wizard in its plastic eye. he turns over her words as he walks, uncomprehending. he takes his incomprehension out on another mannequin, flicking it in its hooked nose before withdrawing his hand. he eyes alice, who is an undignified shade of red, and considers the possibility that he might’ve missed something. inexplicably, he feels as if he’s on the edge of a precipice, or maybe as if there’s a stack of exploding snaps that are about to blow in his face. he says, quite intelligently, “a desk.” 

he reaches to flick the target again and changes his mind, kicking at its base with his feet instead, if only for something to distract himself from the fact that he knows that tone alice’s taken ( really, he knows it from that ill-advised trip at madame -- ). “you mean frank has you on investigations?” 

[dcgstar]

ofbelltrix‌:

Bellatrix still remembers a time when Sirius was part of the family, when they were her cousin. She still remembers how they once were before going to Hogwarts, before their mind was tainted by blood traitors and Mudbloods. To her, they were the ones to kill her younger cousin, even if he was standing right in front of her. They were to blame for her family’s loss, for burning his face off the family tree. It would have been better if they actually killed because at least then, she wouldn’t have to be face to face without some who has Sirius’ face, Sirius’ voice but none of the Black’s values. How dare he talk to her, act as though they were family. They stopped being family long ago and that was on him. “ Yes. It is. Don’t let me make that into a reality. ”

Could she kill him? Could Bellatrix actually kill her younger cousin? Bella didn’t know herself but that’s not going to stop her from raising the wand at him. Two words, that’s all it took and then she would avenge her family’s heartbreak, her cousin’s death. She grit her teeth at her mother’s name coming out of the blood traitor’s mouth. How dare he. How dare he think he has any right to say her name with such familiarity. Killing him might not be easy, but it seems easier than forgetting who he once was to her. “ My mother would praise me for ending you. Now if you don’t want to risk losing in a duel in public, you may want to head back to the blood traitors and Mudbloods you call friends. ”

“easy, bella,” sirius says with the air of one speaking to a misbehaving child. a voice that could be remus or peter tells him that this is mad, and that giving her more ammunition on exactly how to -- what? and that’s the question, isn’t it? he watches her expression distort with fury, and finds the same familiarities there always are. the blacks, always alike in their rage, each one of them a grotesque reflection of his mother. you are nothing to me, he tries to say. the words die in his throat. 

the truth of it emerges and the question -- the one that had stopped itself from forming in his mind -- surfaces all at once. she never cared outside of the context of the most noble and ancient house of black. after all, it must be hard not to like the heir -- the centerpiece of their social schemes. it’s all very clinical: to care where one ought and to replace it with coldness where it’s no longer necessary. sirius loosens his shoulders, rocking back on one heel in an expression of nonchalance that belies the rebellion winding itself into a sharp grin. there must be something wrong with bella after all, he’s decided. there must be something wrong with the pair of them, that he’s looking forward to the moment where she snaps. it will be a riot when it happens -- when she discovers that tiny sirius has learned how to duel. and then he’ll say not so strong now, are you, or that’s pathetic, that you can’t even beat your own blood traitor cousin. he feels his fingers curl around his wand. “that’s hate speech. keep talking like that and you really might lose a duel in public.” 

( and then maybe this unreality of being strangers will snap and it’ll be like any other fight, where all they need is a row before they’re back to sneaking off to buy ice-cream in the dead of night. )

[dcgstar]

MODERN AU --- in which arthur weasley is on the e-board of one of hogwarts university’s biggest mechanical engineering clubs. he also happens to minor in anthropology. sirius black, an impressionable underclassman also majoring in mech e, soon begins learning from the hipster, earth-loving, alien conspiracy theorist mechanical engineering-majoring arthur. 

together, can they solve the mystery of whatever happened to the roanoke colony? or will they just spend all their time building motorbikes that they probably shouldn’t be building? only time will tell. 

[impastabowl]

The ghost of James Potter reveals himself to his friend, Sirius Black.

“I’ve just been murdered,” he tells Sirius. 

Sirius gasps in horror, “You’re joking.”

James looks him in the eye and replies, “I’m dead, Sirius.”

[dcgstar]

--- snivellus:

          Severus had slipped away to a library.  It wasn’t that they were attempting to hide really, they were trying to find some peace.  Large groups of people were always too much, especially these mixed groups.  They’d been hiding in the shadows, fingers roaming over book spines, eyes scanning over titles and yet all of them seemed so foreign.  Deep down Severus knew they didn’t actually belong here, not in a place like this.  Nothing this formal.  

          The click of the door caught Severus’ attention.  Turning from the shelves to face the exit Severus cleared their throat.  A pang of something, annoyance, guilt (no it was hardly guilt), frustration obviously filled Severus.  ❝ Why exactly are you here?  Aren’t you allergic to being in the same room as me?  Last time I checked I thought that was the case. ❞  Most of the time the two attempted to avoid each other like the plague.  

“merlin’s nadgers.” a string of expletives tumbles from sirius’s lips as he stumbles through the room, sidestepping the patches of fiendfyre that are licking way across the walls. too stunned to be angry, sirius leaves the doors open behind him as he walks toward the only other inhabitant of the room. he’d been looking for prongs, and half-mad from the strain of ducking around fire-wrought basilisks and hippogriffs and the odd emptiness of not knowing where james is, sirius mutters, “of all people, it had to be you.” something poisonous is brewing in him. such is the nature fear and hatred, when they have the misfortune to mix.

for in the next moment, sirius recovers, and the toxin lacing its way through his veins bares his teeth in a horrible smile. as he steps closer to snape, the fiendfyre reaches toward him, eating through the jambs of the door so that they swing shut. sirius either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care. he reaches for his wand, finds it still tucked in the sleeve of his auror’s robes, points it at snape, and bites out, “fancy finding you here. enjoying your little handiwork on the estate?” 

[sanguisestimmolare-blog]

I’d rather die on my feet than live my life on my knees.

(via sanguisestimmolare)

[blvnk-art]

“Da do da do do” said Harry to his exhausted godfather.

[t-hy-lla]

[dcgstar]

--- REGULUS:

Something about the head-tilt is too familiar, and paired with the joking banter, they finally realize who it is beneath the mask. Of course they’d be paired together. They should have known when they were assigned to work with an auror that this was going to happen, and though they have a lump forming in their throat, they swallow it and continue on as though they noticed nothing, hoping that would throw their brother off any trail he might have.

“Of course not, that wouldn’t be professional, I’m just trying to find out if I have to do more work to catch you up.” Their voice is clipped, and they try to pitch it lower to change it a bit. They can’t look at the other masked person anymore and just look over the scene, arms crossed. “No, unspeakables train often. Our job is important.”

“not much for banter?” well, that’d be all fine and dandy if this training weren’t dull enough to make one implode. how is sirius going to entertain himself now? he surveys the site. it looks just like a picture out of the aurors’ manual. it’s all so slow and unnecessary, and it’s been nice out all week -- what a waste of a day; it’s enough to make him itch. why couldn’t they just let the aurors team up with each other? james’d be the much more entertaining option. 

with an aggrieved sigh, sirius says, “i’m only joking. lighten up, whoever you are,” and kicks a bit at the rubble of the site. before them is a house in rubbles, its bricks spilling over a garden of bulbs that tried and failed to be tulips. the whole place smells of that stagnant air that lives in all auror training sites -- a chalky mixture of the remnants of one too many spell stacked on each other and whatever shoddy craftsmanship goes into building the aurors’ training sites. “keep that stick up your arse all day and you’ll find that you’re the one who has to catch up. anyway, where do you want to start with this?” 

[dcgstar]

--- SNAPE 

         One would think that after so many years Sirius would have come up with another insult.  Stick to what you know– that’s what Severus would assume though.  If it wasn’t for the small tick in their jaw they’d long since grown quite skilled at schooling their facial expressions.  Snivellus still got to them on that fundamental level that hearing about their father did.  The part of Severus that always felt like they’d never be good enough.  In the eyes of Potter and Black Severus knew that they would never be.  Too dark, too awkward, too honestly Severus had long since forgotten what it was that made them not quite good enough for the group.  They just knew that it was the case.  

          ❝ No, I’m afraid that I wouldn’t be familiar with leashes.  My own or any other person’s.  It’s not particularly my taste in… ❞  Trailing off Severus closed the book they’d been looking in, careful to mark their page.  Sirius’ clenched fists were not lost on Severus and slowly they stood from the table.  ❝ And what do I have to gain by lying to your face?  Truly– nothing would please me more than to ruin your day especially by bringing such wonderful news. ❞  A rather large smile tugged at the corners of Snape’s lips.  The expression was foreign on their face and felt as such.  Granted it wasn’t necessarily something true.  It was something that Severus had heard in passing, in the apothecary, in meetings and yet nothing had come of it.  ❝ Instead it’s the same story as always hostility that never ends.  One would think that you’d grow tired of despising me eventually.  Instead it just seems as though all this time passes and you only grow more hateful.  Why is that? ❞  Never would either of them admit to jealousy of the other.  Severus was though, had always been.  Sirius had what Severus always wanted.  It disgusted them that instead of holding onto that Sirius shunned the entire thing.  

          Instead of worrying much about the thinly veiled threat Severus merely allowed the smirk that had settled on their face to fall away.  ❝ Perhaps that’s what I’m trying to provoke.  Nasty business… an auror in training losing their temper all over an old school grudge.  I’m sure that your superiors wouldn’t be happy with Sirius Black acting out in such a way. ❞  Severus’ eyes moved from where they had fixed on Sirius to his hands for a moment while casually shifting their stance.  The last thing they wanted was to be caught with their hands empty, it had happened a time or two when they were younger.  Severus had changed some since then and wanted to make sure that people understood that while they were good with potions they weren’t a wizard that ought to be taken for weak.  (not like when they were younger and scared) Now they had grown into an angry and vindictive young man.  Dangerous traits to have in a person.  

it must be narcissa. his stomach clenches. he wonders if she loves malfoy, if cruelty is the only shape of love they have all molded trained for. he wants to be sick, even if he’s lost that right ( even it’s been taken from him the same way walburga takes everything -- his lovely mother, ever more the dementor than the parent ). 

he pictures it, then, snape’s nose breaking under his fist, but all it does is make his sneer falter. there is that tic in snape’s jaw to file away and relish later, but all sirius can see is the crowded tables around them. here and there, a curious head turns to watch the scene. there’s a wordless warning wrenching at his stomach. it is a warning that will never make it to his cousin. it’s forgotten in the sea of people around him with no one but snape to witness it — to see that lump that’s all too ready to leap into his throat nowadays, and the tremor that’s stolen his hands. it is an anger that tastes like misery, and sirius is lost. 

what does it matter? ( it does matter, says his hands — traitors — as they grip the table. between snape’s words, they’ve reached for his wand and squeezed it so tightly there’s red sparks flying around his knuckles. it must be amusing for snape, to watch narcissa’s life fall apart. ) he hates them all anyway. ( they've always said, sirius, you’re like just your mum when you’re angry. ) one of the sparks etches itself into his sleeves, and burns and burns. it’s all so familiar he could kill snape for reminding him, even through chance. 

sirius’s face twists, not-quite ugly in his fury. “you make it easy to hate you, snivelly. you’re the scampering sort of coward, hiding behind evans then and behind voldemort now. if you think i can’t see it written all over your face, you’re dead wrong. i knew nothing good comes of anything you’ve touched, and i still know it now.” and wouldn’t now be the time for a flippendo or a bat-bogey hex ( a levicorpus, to really give the patrons something to stare at ), but that’s just what snape wants, isn’t it? they want sirius to blow up in his auror’s robes, for frank to lose the rest of his sleep deciding between pulling sirius from the ranks or covering up for him, for the aurors to fall apart, for james and remus and peter to die. sirius laughs again. it would have worked had snape resisted their urge to gloat. he’ll be taught a lesson, sooner rather than later. “the fact you’re so overconfident as to tell me your plan’s another good reason to despise you. but watch your back on your little death eater nights with the lads. i’m going to make you choke on your words. that’s how you’ll know it’s me.”

he sucks in a rattling breath, angry for the first time, beyond words. then, as some horrible instinct seizes him, he snarls, his heart pounding, “and you can tell whoever you’re under the delusion is my cousin, that i have no cousins. my only family is james, remus, and peter, and it always has been,” before turning on his heels and marching out the door, trailing sparks of magic as he goes, bright as embers and red as blood. 

[dcgstar]

curioushearted‌:

If there’s one thing Arthur hates more than packed public areas, it’s when the area is the Ministry atrium right as he wants to floo home. Perhaps he’s playing too much to the stereotype of the father of a nuclear family. Whinging about being exhausted from work, thinking of nothing but a warm hot meal, anticipating the feeling of smashing his face into a pillow and passing into blissful sleep. ( Still, Arthur thinks he deserves a bit of a break, especially since he had to deal with Alecto Carrow for a good half hour. )

It’s with no small amount of exasperation that he manages to shuffle his way through the crowd between briefcases and leather loafers and long business robes into the safe haven of the rickety old fellytone booth. A group of passing witches give him a bemused look, arching their eyebrows at the strange wizard in the visitor’s entrance. Arthur doesn’t notice. He simply adjusts his glasses frames ( always slightly crooked ), grasps his case a bit tighter, and spins easily on his heel.

A sharp crack finds Arthur in the alleyway adjacent to a sleep muggle street, not far from the Leaky Cauldron. And, not coincidentally, not far from a muggle thrift shop that he’s sure to find a few batteries to toy around with. The old, dusty radio ( fondly christened the Headache ) he smuggled into the shed is still as stubborn as ever. He suspects that with a little bit of muggle invention, he can coax her into actually working. Hence, batteries.

His attempt to be unsubtle in the midst of a muggle environment, however, is rather poor. For one, he looks the cross between a poor barrister and a benevolent priest in his somewhat threadbare business robes. Also, he runs smack into a certain Sirius Black, and blinks once before assuming the expression of a young wizard at Zonko’s. “The tube! Are you really using it? Have you before? I’ve always wondered how those trains work. You know, with the sliding doors?”

“oh, that’s easy,” sirius says, waving a hand as if to say, let me show you something more exciting. and there ought to be a word, for that special moment when one madcap instinct finds another. because, there’s really no mistaking that gleam in arthur’s eyes. sirius relaxes, his own eyes sparkling with recognition. the tube, sirius thinks, yes, arthur, the tube and the long list of muggle technology sprawling across sirius’s mind. and really, what business did a wizard have in this part of town if not for adventure -- that whisper of stir-craziness that laps at his feet when they are too still? ( imagine: a world to explore, oceans of terrible decisions waiting to be made -- how can anyone resist? just thinking it is enough to make sirius tap his feet. )

if it were someone else, maybe they’d reflect on the possibility of their being wrong -- of arthur being a law-abiding citizen after all. but sirius knows these things, and has known them since he saw the same trouble in james’s grin when they’d first met on the hogwarts express. and now that he’s made the connection -- sirius squints at the sky. the first hint of stars is barely visible through the night-time fog. it strikes him that muggle london is quite the big city. as the sun slips lower in the sky, the beginnings of a glimmering horizon flickering into view. as they say, the world is their oyster. 

“i could show you if you like,” sirius adds, more speculatively than anything -- leaning against the brick walls of the alley with far more calm than he feels. yes, the tube is really so simple. he entertains a mental image of introducing arthur to muggle clubs -- which then combines with introducing arthur to muggle clubs with james. he pauses over the concept, laughing internally ( but not unkindly ) -- will the muggles accept those navy robes as a new fad? the bands in james’s magazines all seem to sport crazy fashions nowadays -- and then sirius is interrupted by another image, of arthur with a microfoam ( microfelly? ) and those dark rings a certain type of muggle celebrity loves painting around their eyes, so he decides to put a halt to that particular reflection. no, it’s better to go one step at a time. how had someone put it? something about him being too much. sirius looks down at his own auror’s robes. “say, arthur, how attached are you to those robes?” 

the weariness of the day at work forgotten, it’s all he can do to keep himself from pointing out a hundred thousand different things. 

[dcgstar]

♀, ✉, ✘ -- bellatrix, ☎, ツ, ツ -- frank

accepting

Send “♀” for a HEARTBREAKING text

(to bellatrix, 03:00) would you really kill me, cousin? (to bellatrix, 03:01) one galleon says you won’t 

Send “✘” for a HATEFUL text.

(to bellatrix, 03:20) what’ve you done to him(to bellatrix, 3:21) where’s alice(to bellatrix, 03:46) is this your idea of a fucking joke bellatrix(to bellatrix, 05:16) I’M GOING TO KILL YOU(to bellatrix, 05:17) fuck how coudl(to bellatrix, 6:30) tell me where you are 

Send “✉” for a text that WASN’T SENT. 

(to bellatrix, 7:22) don’t you at least owe me that much just tell me where they are 

Send “☎” for a RUSHED text. 

(to frank, 03:14) go for her throat (to frank, 03:20) frank? (to frank, 6:21) frank??????

Send “ツ” for an EXCITED text.

(to frank, 11:02) found a GHOUL in the attic come take a look it’s gnarly (to frank, 11:13) hurry it’s singing happy birthday(to frank, 11:14) right, i forgot to give you the address i’m at training ground 5 (to frank, 11:15) did the ghoul sing you happy birthday when you were here? (to frank, 11:16) update he sings happy birthday to everyone. i thought we had a special bond 

Send “ツ” for an EXCITED text.

(to frank, 20:52) neville’s going to have the best birthday present(to frank, 20:53) stop typing and deleting i can HEAR you STRESS(to frank, 20:54) it’s nothing dangerous really it’s just something i put together (to frank, 20:55) really mate i can hear you stress it’s just i’ve figured out how to make a rattle that plays songs (to frank, 20:56) best part is if you shake it hard enough it also does animal noises

[dcgstar]

ofmugglestudies‌:

   as the door slams open  ,  charity throws a startled look over her shoulder.  upon realizing it’s sirius  ,  she relaxes.  but  ,  a heavy sigh still escapes her.  heels click as she walks across the marbled floor  ,  moving only to ensure that the door is under a strong colloportus.  “  no  ,  ”  charity reports  ,  the beginnings of a smile growing on her face.  “  she probably assumed you’d also be late.  ” 

he’ll have to ask her, later, about the sense he gets -- the sense that charity, marlene, james, and lily are all laughing at something hidden to him. but they’ve no time to waste now. sirius glances at the door and flicks an off-hand concealment charm at it -- before sitting on one of the plush couches and proceeding to fling alice’s dress from his pockets and charming it back to its previous size. sirius makes a face. “whatever gave her that idea? i’ll have to have a word with her, later. anyway,” and here, he looks up at charity with a look of abject horror, “how do you people wear these things?” 

[dcgstar]

--- JAMES:

James was antsy, to say the least. Lily’d been off talking to other people for the better part of an hour–which obviously she was allowed to do, she was her own person and she shouldn’t be tied to him all night, but Merlin he hated every second he was away from her–and everyone else seemed to be caught up in conversation or working or… well, he honestly wasn’t sure where some other people were. But then he caught sight of Sirius, lounging by the auction table in that carefree way of his. James crossed the crowd and sidled up next to him. He glanced down the table at the options, noting the few offerings that piqued his interest. “Bid on anything good?” he asked, cocking one eyebrow.

if there’s anyone who has boredom down to an art-form, it’s sirius. between bouts of Obligations, and sometimes even during them ( exhibit a: the time he drew an impressively unflattering portrait of nobby leach on the back of his wizarding law exam ), he can be found leaning against the nearest comfortable surface, his every movement screaming boredom. but here, sirius doesn’t even need to try. watching the auction guests milling around is like watching paint dry. he’s half tempted to ask moody outright why he has to largely keep to the sides ( on constant vigilance, damn it ) when it’s clear the suspected attack will never come. the death eaters, after all, would never hijack an event with so many of their own. even worse, the novelty of being on security duty and the zabinis’ free food had long worn off. and so, when sirius hears james’s voice, he perks up at once. “only at zonko’s and the sneakoscopes so far. would you believe it, the blasted things went off as soon as i got near them?” 

[dcgstar]

--- NARCISSA:

     Seeing him was like a punch to the gut. It was a reminder of a letter unanswered, anger and embarrassment and hurt in a joke shop, and all the promises she’d made herself in the wake of that day. It also felt like drowning in emotions she tried to shove away. She felt them creeping in the back of her mind – they had Sirius’s voice and they whispered doubt and fear. She pushed against them and lifted her chin as she moved toward him. 

     “I’m glad to see you hadn’t died.” It was as sentimental as she intended to get. She refused to let him know he’d let her down. She was above that now and he was beneath her, according to every member of her family. She shouldn’t have even stooped low enough to approach him and comment but… 

     She was the weak link. 

“i was going to write,” sirius says quickly, and how odd, he finds that he’s latched onto narcissa’s wrist. it occurs to him that he might be afraid she’ll leave just as he’s afraid she’ll stay, and that the thought of either is enough to make him sick. he lets go, taking a step back until he’s standing in the shadows of a column. it’s harder to distinguish between the two up close -- his parents and regulus and andromeda, or even bellatrix. family, as it has been taught to sirius, is the hours spent perfecting his calligraphy or french, the sting of a hand, or the airless quality of a wildfire. here, as ever, surrounded by the famed zabini floors, it’s the same constants. 

( but you must ask, sometimes: was it really so bad? they loved you. you are theirs in a way that you will never be even james’s. you have to posit sometimes, before you go mad, if narcissa’s just one laugh away from putting this behind you like so many silly arguments you’ve forgotten in the past. i used to put bugs in your hair and our apologies were games. aren’t we still children? ) 

sirius releases a breath he hadn’t known he’d taken in a small, wounded sound that’s buried beneath the din of the gala. he drifts toward narcissa, uncomprehending, knowing only that she must understand that it’s 3 am that haunts him, after dorcas and gideon -- that sleepless hour and its powers of suggestions, where his cousin shifts from victim to death eater as easily as sirius might become padfoot. she must understand. “i swear it.” 

[suckrpnch]

sorry if it seems like i want attention i just want attention