remus with a piss kink. wolf-brained and gross and possessive as hell.
either he wants to piss on his partner or he wants them to piss on him, either way it scratches something ancient in the back of his skull. claiming, marking, scent, territory, mine mine mine. he’d be embarrassed about it if he wasn’t already too busy looking completely feral and trying not to growl.
his werewolf instincts are one bad decision away from turning into a fucking wildlife documentary.
I Love That You Hate Me
warning - contains incest, spit, sexual themes, this gets weird, crack treated seriously, dont like dont read
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The Gryffindors were doing what they did best—terrorising the hallways of Hogwarts with the chaotic, lawless energy of a band of overcaffeinated pixies on a sugar high. James Potter had just vanished someone’s trousers mid-step. Peter was howling with laughter and pointing like a gremlin. Marlene and Mary were dragging Lily into a full-body game of hallway tag, shrieking. Remus was somewhere in the background trying not to be held legally responsible for whatever madness they were wreaking. Sirius was egging them on like the deranged king of this circus, robes flaring dramatically, hair catching the torches like he was on stage.
And then—they slowed.
The laughter faltered.
The pack of lions stilled like wolves sniffing blood on the breeze.
Ahead, under the cold flicker of enchanted sconces, was a cluster of Slytherins—tight-knit, sharp-angled, deathly still—and at the heart of them stood Regulus Black. Regal, irritated, dressed in his pristinely tailored uniform with not a single hair out of place, despite the venom currently dripping from the mouth of one Severus Snape.
Snape was standing too close, shoulders hunched like a vulture ready to strike, greasy hair framing a face twisted with hatred.
“—pathetic little whore,” Snape spat. “Everyone knows you’re just a walking family disgrace. Prefect? Please. That’s just your family trying to clean the filth off the name your brother smeared into the ground. You think anyone respects you? They only keep you around to laugh at you. You’re a fucking—”
“Oi!” Sirius barked like a whipcrack, the word exploding down the hall as his face twisted with rage. “You wanna say that shit again?”
Regulus didn’t even turn. He lifted one elegant hand, ringed fingers splayed, in a sharp silencing gesture.
Sirius flinched back like he’d been slapped.
Regulus still didn’t look at him. His eyes were pinned on Snape like a scalpel on skin. And the Slytherins flanking him—Barty Crouch Jr. with his hands in his pockets and teeth clenched, Evan Rosier radiating disdain, Pandora Rosier rolling her eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t dislodge, and Dorcas Meadowes with her arms crossed like she was restraining herself from hexing—stood like a wall.
The moment stretched.
And then Regulus spoke.
“You’re projecting again, Snape,” he said coolly. “It’s boring.”
Snape's nostrils flared. “Excuse me?”
“No,” Regulus said, voice crisp as shattered ice. “I’m tired of this. Whatever little dick-measuring contest you’re having with my brother has nothing to do with me. I don’t care about Sirius. I don’t think about Sirius. He means nothing to me. And neither do you.”
The hallway went silent. Not just quiet—silent. The walls themselves seemed to lean in.
Regulus stepped forward, gaze unblinking. “I’ve never cared that you’re a half-blood. I don’t give a shit if you’re a muggleborn, squib, blood traitor, or centaur in disguise. You’re pathetic not because of what you were born into. You’re pathetic because you think it excuses the way you treat people.”
Snape’s mouth opened and closed. His hands twitched.
Regulus wasn’t done.
“You act like everyone owes you kindness because your life’s hard. Do you think you’re the only one with a shit childhood? The only one who’s ever been scared? Or alone? Or hurt?” His voice was rising now, sharp and scathing. “You don’t shower, you don’t try, you talk to people like they’re dirt, and you expect them to hand you friendship on a silver fucking platter anyway? You degrade anyone who works harder than you because you can’t be fucked to try yourself.”
Snape was red now, blotchy and trembling.
Regulus sneered. “You lash out because you’re bitter. You look at me and see everything you could’ve had if you weren’t so lazy. You’re jealous that people like me. You’re jealous that I’m pretty. That I’m smart. That I’m good at what I do. That I make it look easy. And it must kill you that I don’t even care enough to hate you back.”
Snape took a shaky step forward.
Regulus raised a hand again. “Ah-ah. Try it. Touch me with your germ-ridden hands one more time.”
He took a final step, voice dropping to a low, lethal whisper.
“And I’ll bend your fingers so far back you’ll never hold a wand again. Then I’ll shove them through your eyes and see if they help you see clearly for once.”
A beat.
Then Regulus stepped back. Smoothed his robes. Rolled his neck with an audible pop and muttered, “Fucking exhausting,” before turning away.
Snape’s face twisted in rage, humiliation, and the kind of furious helplessness that burns behind the eyes like poison in the blood. He opened his mouth—
And Evan Rosier clicked his tongue.
“Run along, Sev,” he said lazily. “Before you cry.”
Snape stormed off in a swirl of oily robes, spitting like a cursed kettle.
The moment he was out of sight, the hallway erupted.
“OH MY FUCKING GOD—” James was doubled over, laughing so hard he nearly passed out. “Regulus Black just verbally eviscerated Snivellus in under two minutes,”
“Did you see Snape’s face?” Peter cackled. “He looked like someone just pissed in his potion!”
Fabian and Gideon were screaming in stereo, collapsing against each other howling like they’d just watched someone get slapped on live television.
“Holy shit,” Marlene gasped, grabbing Mary’s arm. “I’m so fucking wet right now, what the hell—”
“Language!” Remus said, scandalised—but even he was grinning, lips twitching as he shook his head.
Sirius just stood there, stunned, blinking rapidly.
He’d hated Regulus for so long he didn’t know what to do with the flood of protective pride and admiration boiling up in his chest. Didn’t know how to process what it felt like to see his baby brother hold his own like that—cut clean through Snape like a blade, standing tall, unbothered, powerful.
Regulus was a fucking menace.
A beautiful one.
Regulus turned back once, lazily, eyeing the Gryffindors with a single raised brow.
“Glad I could entertain you,” he said drolly, then turned back to his friends and walked off, hips swaying like he’d just walked off a runway.
“Holy shit,” James whispered. “Do we… like Regulus now?”
“No,” Sirius snapped automatically.
“Yes,” everyone else chorused.
And the hallway, once a battlefield, rang with laughter again. But it was different now—fizzing, electric, echoing with something new.
Something dangerous.
Something that sounded a lot like respect.
The hallway was empty now—still echoing faintly with Snape’s retreating rage and Regulus’s delicious, devastating takedown—but the Gryffindors hadn’t moved.
They stood in a stunned semi-circle like war survivors surveying the battlefield, mouths open, faces flushed, hearts beating in all the wrong places.
Silence reigned for all of ten seconds.
And then—
“Oh… my god,” Lily whispered, almost reverently. “He’s so hot.”
“I know,” Mary moaned, practically drooling against the stone wall. “I think I just got pregnant from that monologue alone.”
“I’d let him slap me,” Marlene muttered, eyes glazed.
“Same,” Peter breathed, dead serious.
“Oh no,” whispered Remus, blinking slowly like he was waking from a dream. “I like him now.”
James Potter just exhaled like he’d been punched in the gut, hand covering his mouth. “Okay but like… Regulus is kinda…”
“A bratty dom power bottom,” Lily supplied helpfully, dreamy.
“Yes!” James groaned, head falling back. “With that face? That waist? That pretty little fucking gap between his thighs like he was sculpted for blasphemy? What the hell?”
“His legs,” Alice muttered numbly. “His legs.”
“They’re so long,” Frank added, voice cracked with emotion. “Unholy.”
“His voice too,” Gideon muttered, dazed. “Like honey and homicide.”
Fabian slumped against the wall, eyes wild. “He threatened to gouge out a man’s eyes. I’m gonna need to journal about this.”
“I wanna fail against him in a duel and beg for forgiveness,” Mary added, blushing hard. “Like, ‘oh no, you beat me, punish me please—’”
“STOP!” Sirius Black bellowed like a banshee suddenly dropped into a nest of horny ferrets. “What the fuck is WRONG with you people?!”
Every head turned slowly.
Sirius looked… deranged.
Hair mussed. Eyes bloodshot. Face red with some mix of rage and shame and something deep, dangerous, and squirming under his skin.
“He’s my brother!”
“Okay, but technically-,” Marlene cut in, ever helpful.
“No!” Sirius screamed. “FULL brother, same blood, same house, same womb proximity! That’s worse!”
They all just stared at him, smirking now.
Sirius was red. Too red. Not just rage-red. Embarrassment-red.
Possessive-red.
Jealous-red.
“...Oh my god,” James whispered, eyes widening. “You like him.”
“I—NO!” Sirius shrieked. “I loathe him. I hate everything about him. His stupid hair. His stupid lips. His stupid perfect waist and that smug little face and that way he walks like a fucking panther on a catwalk with a secret. I hate it. I hate him.”
“He’s your brother,” Lily said innocently, cocking her head.
“I know!” Sirius howled. “But why the fuck does he look like that!? Like—like he’s carved out of fucking sin and supremacy?! Who the fuck walks like that at sixteen? Who has cheekbones like that at sixteen?!”
They were all grinning now, circling him like predators smelling blood in the water.
“Sirius,” Remus said gently. “Are you… okay?”
“No! I’m not okay!” Sirius was panting. “He’s got that—that voice—it’s deep but silky and when he gets mad it gets all low and threatening and aristocratic and I—he’s got this waist, right, like it’s snatchable, like you could grab both sides with one hand—”
James choked.
“—and he always wears those perfectly tailored trousers and it’s like—criminal—like fashion is his weapon and I’ve seen him put on lip gloss with more precision than I’ve ever cast a spell—”
“Oh my god—” Fabian shrieked, falling over.
“—and when he yawns his voice cracks and it sounds like sex, and I’ve walked in on him dancing in his room and he has hips, okay? Like grabbable hips—he’s a fucking temptress—and I thought—I thought everyone saw him that way! I thought it was normal!”
“You thought… it was normal to be horny over your brother?” Marlene asked, grinning so hard her face might break.
“I thought it was nature!” Sirius wailed. “Like—built-in! I thought it was like breathing! I thought everyone got confusing boners when Regulus entered a room! I thought—!”
“You’ve fantasised about him, haven’t you?” Lily asked, delighted.
“Tell us everything!” James begged, grabbing Sirius by the collar like a dramatic wench in a romance novel. “We’re in too deep, you bastard, don’t hold out on us now!”
“I—I used to picture him in the bath,” Sirius confessed, eyes wild. “Like, all pale and glowy and wet, steam curling around him, soap sliding down his back, and he’d look over his shoulder all slow and seductive like in the films, and I’d be in the doorway like ‘oh, sorry, didn’t know you were—’ and he’d say ‘well, are you going to come in or just stand there?’ and I’d black out, okay?! BLACK OUT!”
Gideon shrieked and collapsed to the floor. Fabian fanned himself with his shirt collar. Remus simply turned and banged his head lightly against the wall.
“And another time,” Sirius panted, clearly spiralling now, “he had a fever, and he was all weak and flushed and I thought—fuck, he looks so pretty when he’s vulnerable, and I imagined nursing him back to health and feeding him soup and fluffing his pillows and kissing his forehead and he’d grab my wrist all weak and whisper ‘don’t leave me’ and I’d weep! I’d weep like a nun in a love poem!”
The screaming now was at a new level.
Frank looked traumatised. Alice was crying with laughter. Lily had slumped against Mary who had slumped against the wall, all three of them wiping tears.
“AND ONE TIME—” Sirius continued, clearly unravelling entirely, “—he wore this black silk shirt to dinner, and I imagined him sitting in my lap, feeding me strawberries and whispering insults in my ear while grinding—GRINDING—”
“Okay stop,” Remus choked. “I’m going to die. I’m going to fucking die.”
“Sirius,” James said softly, with the calm gravity of someone who had accepted the end of the world. “You’re in love with your bratty dom little brother.”
“No I’m not,” Sirius whispered, trembling.
“You are,” they all said, eyes shining, grins wide.
“You want him to degrade you,” Peter said.
“You want him to bully you into submission,” Marlene added.
“You want him to slap you and call you pathetic and then sit on your face,” said Fabian.
“YOU ALL NEED JESUS!” Sirius shrieked.
“AND YOU NEED THERAPY!” Remus called.
“AND REGULUS!” James screamed with delight. “HE NEEDS REGULUS BLACK!”
The chaos hadn't even begun to settle. Sirius’s unhinged rant still echoed faintly down the corridor, and the rest of them—crumpled in a feverish heap of disbelief, arousal, and emotional annihilation—were wheezing through aftershocks of laughter like they'd been collectively struck by lightning. Fabian was hyperventilating on the flagstones, still muttering “the bath… the fucking bath—” to himself. Lily was cackling so hard she was crying again. James had collapsed, flat on his back like a slain soldier of horniness, whispering broken prayers to the ceiling. Remus was pacing in circles, hands over his face, mumbling “we need church. Or an exorcist. Or a frontal lobotomy—”
And then it happened.
A voice, crisp and bored and behind them, cut through the air like a knife through silk.
“...What the fuck are you lot doing?”
Jumpscare.
Seven screams. Two muffled gasps. One dramatic yelp from James, who immediately flung himself behind Remus like a human shield. Sirius, mid-shock-recovery, let out a sound that could only be described as a dying kettle being kicked off a cliff.
Because there he stood.
Regulus Black. Perfect. Untouched. Looking violently confused and vaguely disgusted, schoolbag swinging lazily from one shoulder, brows furrowed like they were all some bizarre painting he didn’t recall commissioning.
“Why are you all lying on the floor like you’ve just seen Merlin’s ballsack?” he asked, eyeing them one by one.
“Regulus,” Sirius whispered in abject horror, attempting to shove James in front of him. “Why—how—when did you get here?”
Regulus squinted. “Just now. Obviously. I forgot my bag.” He held it up by the strap and let it dangle. “Was halfway down the stairs when I realised. Came back. Found this.”
He gestured vaguely to the Gryffindor collective, currently arranged like the aftermath of a very horny crime scene.
“You’re being weird,” he added flatly. “All of you.”
James snorted. Lily moaned. Fabian whimpered.
Regulus narrowed his eyes.
“What the fuck were you talking about?” he asked slowly, suspicion flickering behind his lashes. “You all look like you just walked out of a very graphic porno and hit a brick wall made of shame.”
Regulus’s eyes darted to Sirius, then back to the group. “...What did you say.”
“Nothing,” Sirius barked too quickly. “Absolutely nothing. Just, er—class stuff. Homework. You know. Academia. Intellectualism.”
“You said ‘snatchable waist’,” Lily wheezed into Mary’s shoulder.
Sirius lunged at her with a screech. “TRAITOR!”
Regulus’s head snapped to Lily, then slowly panned back to Sirius.
“...Excuse me?” he said, flat as pressed steel.
Remus cracked. Loudly. Laugh-snorted so hard he folded in on himself like a lawn chair. “Oh fuck me—he doesn’t know! You didn’t hear—oh, god—”
“What. Did. You. Say.” Regulus’s voice was pure winter.
And then—Peter, the traitorous bastard, broke like a paper bag full of soup.
“He wants you to slap him and sit on his face!” he wailed, eyes wide and manic.
Sirius howled, pure anguish. “PETER YOU LITTLE SHIT—”
Regulus stared.
Just stared.
Long. Blank. Processing.
And then—
His mouth twitched.
“Oh,” he said, voice cool and silky and dangerous. “So it’s that kind of weird.”
Sirius started shaking his head frantically. “No. No no no no no—”
Regulus turned, finally facing his brother with the sort of smirk that should’ve been declared a war crime.
“You’ve been like this since we were children,” he said, mock-sweet. “You used to make me sit in your lap and promise not to grow up or leave your room. Called me ‘little prince’ and ‘darling dove’ and ‘mine.’”
“THOSE WERE NORMAL CHILDHOOD GAMES—”
“You watched me sleep,” Regulus continued, unbothered. “Would sit in the dark, across from my bed, and whisper about how perfect I looked. Remember that? No? Selective amnesia?”
“I was being protective!”
“You tried to make me sign a contract saying I’d never have a boyfriend.”
James coughed violently.
“You said I was made for you.”
“YOU’RE MISREMEMBERING—”
Regulus just tilted his head, smile widening, predatory. “No, big brother. I remember everything.”
Sirius whimpered.
Whimpered.
Full-body tremble, knees wobbly, bottom lip caught between his teeth like a shameful kid about to confess to his crimes.
“Freak,” Regulus purred, stepping in.
“Degenerate. Pervert. Disgrace. You’ve been frothing at the mouth since I was thirteen. You’re disgusting.”
Sirius moaned. Fucking moaned. Like he’d been kicked in the soul and liked it.
Regulus stepped in closer, up on his toes with an effortless grace that screamed aristocrat raised on poison and posture. One elegant hand snaked up, long fingers curling around the nape of Sirius’s neck. He tugged him down, slow and mocking, until they were nose to nose.
“Aw,” he cooed, voice like velvet soaked in venom. “Does big brother want to be my little bitch?”
Sirius let out a strangled “nnh—!” and collapsed like a dying faun, face bright red, trousers visibly tented, breath gone.
And then—he fainted.
Fully.
Cracked like an egg.
Dropped like a sack of regret and repressed incestuous fantasies.
Regulus let go and watched his brother crumple, unimpressed.
“Fucking hell,” he muttered. “Embarrassing.”
He kicked Sirius once—lightly, like a cat nudging a corpse—then sighed, adjusted his collar, slung his bag over his shoulder, and turned to leave.
But fate was not done with him yet.
Two figures blocked his path—identical, gleaming, salivating twin bastards.
Fabian and Gideon Prewett, looking like foxes who’d just found a whole henhouse wearing thigh highs and lip gloss.
“Regulus,” Gideon purred.
“Regulus,” Fabian echoed, smirking.
“Leave,” Regulus said flatly.
“Do the thing,” Gideon grinned.
“Do the thing,” Fabian begged, practically panting.
Regulus stared at them. “You’re all fucking deranged.”
“Correct,” they said in sync.
Regulus rolled his eyes. “Fine.”
He grabbed Gideon by the jaw, yanked the taller boy down sharply, and spat in his mouth.
Gideon groaned and swallowed like it was wine from God’s own chalice.
Thump.
One Prewett down.
Regulus turned, grabbed Fabian by the tie, yanked him forward, bit into his neck, hard, and then kneed him directly in the dick with lethal precision.
“FUCK YES—” Fabian moaned as he collapsed.
Two Prewetts down.
“Fucking lunatics,” Regulus muttered, stepping over their twitching bodies like spilled laundry.
He adjusted his bag.
Rolled his shoulders.
And walked off, hips swaying, expression unreadable—leaving behind a corridor of casualties, still-moaning Gryffindors, one unconscious older brother with a boner, and a legendary moment that would haunt the school for years.
The hallway shrieked.
Howled.
Exploded into chaos.
The moment Regulus disappeared around the corridor’s bend, the pack of feral Gryffindors detonated into movement like starved hyenas chasing a bleeding gazelle. Unhinged. Unfiltered. Ravenous.
“REGULUS BLACK!” James Potter shrieked, already in a full sprint, tie flapping like a battle flag, his wand clattering uselessly to the floor as he tripped over his own lust. “COME BACK HERE YOU SINFUL LITTLE MONARCH—”
“Oh my god, I need him,” Mary howled, practically throwing a hex to boost her speed.
“That mouth,” Marlene gasped, eyes wild, heels clacking like knives on the stone. “I want it on my—”
“—FACE FIRST,” Alice finished as they barreled around the corner, Remus dragging Frank by the sleeve like a man possessed, Peter screaming something unintelligible but definitely horny.
They caught him.
Like a coordinated pounce of thirst and instability, the Gryffindors tackled the Slytherin prefect in a tangle of limbs and chaos, dragging him back by the arms, by the robes, someone—probably Lily—fistful of his hair like a prize ribbon.
Regulus groaned.
Loudly.
Exasperated, head thrown back, eyes rolled so far into his skull he could see tomorrow.
“Fucking Merlin, do you people not have shame?” he hissed, letting them manhandle him backward down the corridor like he was a prized creature at a black-market zoo. “What, one threatening monologue and now you’re all frothing degenerates with boundary issues?”
“Yes,” Alice panted, practically vibrating. “Yes, absolutely. Please. Degrade me.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Regulus muttered, kicking James in the shin as he clung to Regulus’s hip like a koala.
“Can I just sniff you?” Peter begged, eyes watery. “Like, one little whiff—”
Regulus narrowed his eyes. “Try it and I’ll piss in your mouth.”
Peter squealed like it was a marriage proposal.
They dragged him into an alcove—secluded, torch-lit, absolutely vibrating with the worst intentions—and Regulus stared at them all, unimpressed, arms crossed like a saint surrounded by deranged disciples.
“Line up, you insatiable perverts,” he sighed. “If I’m going to entertain this orgy of idiocy, I’m doing it on my terms.”
James was first. Practically panting. Regulus yanked him down by the tie, sneering into his face, then slapped him across the cheek—CRACK—hard enough to make James moan and go cross-eyed. He whispered something filthy—soaked in arrogance and filth—into James’s ear, and the boy buckled, falling to his knees like he’d just been knighted by sin itself.
Peter was trembling before Regulus even touched him. Regulus just leaned in, mouth right against his ear, and spat. Right. In. It. Peter let out a squeak like a boiling teapot and slumped down, twitching, eyes rolling, muttering, “Thank you, thank you,” like a grateful disciple at the feet of a cult leader.
Remus tried to act aloof. Big mistake. Regulus grabbed him by the jaw, leaned in with that voice like honey-coated razors, and growled something obscene—low, private, humiliating. Then he reached into Remus’s shirt, scratched down his chest with perfect nails, and gave a casual little pat to his dick through the trousers. Remus shuddered, bit his own knuckle, and melted into the stone like heated wax.
Alice demanded violence.
Regulus grinned.
Slapped her. Bit her shoulder. Pulled her hair until she gasped "Harder," and then shoved her backward against the wall, dragging his nails down her stomach, stopping just short of cruel. Alice was left panting, shaking, one hand curled into her skirt, the other smearing her lipstick against her mouth as she whimpered, “I’m gonna fucking marry him.”
Mary practically vibrated in place, fists clenched, eyes blown wide.
Regulus looked her over. Smirked.
Then wrapped a hand around her throat and pushed. Not hard—just enough to make her feel it.
“You like being ignored, don’t you?” he whispered, voice dark silk. “You want to beg.”
Mary whined. Collapsed. Didn’t even make it back to her feet.
Marlene strutted forward, wild-eyed, daring him.
Regulus dragged his fingers up her thigh, leaned in like a lover—and spat directly in her open mouth before smirking, “Swallow.” She did. With a purr. Then slid down the wall like her bones had turned to sugar.
Frank was too stunned to move.
Regulus simply stalked over, gripped the boy by the jaw, and slapped him once—then again, harder, until Frank’s eyes fluttered. Then he kissed his forehead and said, “You’re not even worth my filth.” Frank groaned, knees giving out with an audible thump.
Lily was flushed to her ears, practically feral.
Regulus didn’t even look at her.
Just pointed at the floor.
“Down.”
She dropped. Immediately. Eyes gleaming. One word. And she came undone.
By the end, the alcove looked like a battlefield of horny corpses.
“Fucking hell,” he muttered, stepping over limbs. “You’re all pathetic.”
He adjusted his collar, started to walk off—
But didn’t make it more than five steps.
Because Sirius had crawled over.
And was clinging to his leg.
Like a demented barnacle.
Face pressed to his calf, nuzzling, arms wrapped tight around Regulus’s shin like a child begging for attention.
“Baby brother,” Sirius crooned, voice dazed, face flushed with something feral and broken. “You’re so cruel. So perfect. You’re the devil, and I’m your altar—”
“Get off,” Regulus snarled, kicking at him viciously. “You embarrassing, incestuous disaster of a man.”
But Sirius only groaned, nosing along the crease of Regulus’s robes like a drunk cat in heat. “I need you. I need to serve. To worship. To grovel at the feet of your superiority—”
Regulus kicked harder. “Get. Off.”
“Never,” Sirius moaned. “I’ll die here. This is my new home. I live on your leg now.”
“Fucking Christ,” Regulus snapped, dragging the deadweight of his older brother down the hallway like a cursed chainmail sock full of trauma and lust. “You’re a grown man, get a job.”
Sirius just whimpered. “You’re my job. My purpose. My calling. Oh gods, kick me again—”
Regulus did.
Hard.
Twice.
The corridor echoed with Sirius’s moan and Regulus’s furious hissing, his robes flaring like war banners as he stormed off dragging ten moaning lunatics and one leg-clinger in his wake, eyes blazing, patience gone, expression thunderous.
The Black family had once mourned a rebel. The firstborn son had turned his back on everything they’d built, spat on their bloodline, and rotted away behind prison walls, iron bars echoing with silence where screams should have been. And the second son—sweet, silver-eyed Regulus—he had done everything right. Everything asked of him. Yet one day he vanished, ghostlike, leaving only dust and dread behind, slipping through their fingers like rain they couldn’t stop.
But that was one life.
This one? In this one, Sirius Black stood tall and shining, polished like obsidian, eyes sharp and cold and proud. The perfect heir. The perfect son. Head held high as he strolled through the green-draped halls of Slytherin, robed in ambition and power. He was their triumph, not their shame. House of cunning and legacy had shaped him into a prince, and Sirius wore the crown gladly.
Regulus, the spare, came second in more than just birth.
He was still pale and pretty, still soft-spoken and ghostlike—but not in the way his family had hoped. Not obedient enough. Not invisible enough. Something in him glittered like rebellion buried under frost.
They had trained him well. That training just hadn't held.
Sorted into Gryffindor.
It had been a whisper through the Great Hall, stunned and brittle. A Black? In Gryffindor?
Even Dumbledore had raised a white brow, bemused. But Regulus had said nothing. He only walked to his new table, red and gold blazing above his black curls like a curse.
He was still quiet, still polite. Still followed every rule they gave him over Christmas, sat still for the family portraits, called his brother sir when told. But something changed every year. It took longer and longer to return him to shape. More time spent in bed staring at the ceiling. More time holding his wand just a little too tightly.
More quiet defiance.
Still, he had no pack. No real friends. Acquaintances from all houses: a Hufflepuff girl who liked his handwriting, a Ravenclaw boy he occasionally studied with, even the odd Slytherin—mostly ones who Sirius didn’t talk to. He was a bloody brilliant Seeker, that was the one time people remembered his name. But outside the pitch?
They forgot him again.
Everyone except Sirius.
Sirius never forgot. Couldn’t. Regulus had belonged to him since birth. It didn’t matter that his baby brother wore a lion crest now—he’d always be his little lion. Heart of the lion. They should have known.
It was early evening when Regulus padded quietly down the moving stairs, his shoes light against stone, his robes neat, sleeves carefully folded over slim wrists. He looked tired. A bit pale. His lips were pink and slightly chapped.
Dinner was loud and packed. He’d decided to skip it. Too many people. Too many eyes.
He was halfway back to Gryffindor Tower when a hand caught his wrist.
"Skipping out on dinner, Reggie?" came a low, mocking purr near his ear.
Regulus startled. He didn’t need to turn. He already knew that voice.
"...Sirius," he murmured, quiet and tired.
Sirius tilted his head, Slytherin green and silver catching torchlight as he stepped closer, invading Regulus’s space like he owned it. Which, in his mind, he did.
"Didn’t see you at lunch either. What, don’t want to sit with your little cub friends anymore?"
Regulus looked away. "I was studying."
"You were hiding," Sirius corrected, fingers sliding from his wrist to his elbow. He tugged him a step closer. "What, Gryffindors aren’t treating you right? Shall I hex someone?"
"I’m fine."
Sirius grinned, slow and sharp. "You’re my brother, Reggie. Doesn’t matter what colours you wear. Still mine."
"I know," Regulus whispered, quiet as a curse.
Sirius leaned in, nuzzling at his hair like a smug wolf. "Say it again."
Regulus closed his eyes. "I’m yours."
"Damn right you are—"
A cough cut the moment clean in half.
They both turned—and froze.
Blocking the stairway ahead were ten Gryffindors. Tall. Loud. Familiar. All with wands strapped somewhere on their bodies and fire in their eyes.
James Potter stood at the centre like some chaotic sun. Chaser. Captain. Menace incarnate. Hair tousled and glasses slightly fogged from the cold of the halls. His eyes were on Regulus first.
He frowned. "Hey. You alright, mate?"
Regulus blinked.
Peter was peering over James’s shoulder. "Wait, he’s Gryffindor, right? Fifth year?"
"Yeah, he’s in the year below," Mary said, frowning. "Regulus. He’s our Seeker. He’s great."
"Wait, that’s Regulus?" said Frank, brows up.
Marlene was staring between the two brothers like watching a crime in real time. "Holy shit, they look alike. But—he’s a Black?"
"Hold on," Lily said sharply, her green eyes locking on Sirius. "What exactly were you doing just now?"
Sirius straightened like a cat about to pounce. "None of your business, Evans."
"You were bothering a younger year," Gideon snapped. "We don’t like that."
Fabian crossed his arms. "Even worse, one of our younger years."
Sirius’s expression twisted. "Your—? He’s mine."
"Doesn’t look like it," James said. "You okay, Regulus?"
Regulus looked between them all, wide-eyed and cornered. "I—I was just going to my dorm."
James stepped forward. "You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to."
"Yeah, seriously," added Remus. "We’ve got your back."
Sirius’s jaw clenched. "He wants to talk to me. Don’t you, little lion?"
Regulus swallowed. "...Yes."
"See?" Sirius turned back to the crowd. "He’s fine. Fuck off."
"Doesn’t sound fine," Marlene muttered.
"Definitely doesn’t look fine," said Alice.
"Are you forcing him to say that?" James asked, squinting at Sirius like he was studying a dangerous beast.
Sirius bared his teeth. "I don’t force him to do anything. He loves me. Tell them, Reg."
Regulus looked at the floor. He wished the stones would crack and swallow him whole.
"...Sirius is my favourite," he said, voice like ash. "I love him."
The silence was thick.
Then Frank muttered, "...Yeah, that’s fucking weird."
Mary looked furious. "You made him say that."
Sirius raised a brow. "Did I?"
Lily’s wand was twitching in her pocket. "You humiliated him. That’s not okay."
"Don’t pretend to care about him. You didn’t even know who he was five minutes ago."
"That’s because you hide him!" snapped James.
"I protect him."
"You own him!" shouted Remus.
Regulus stood frozen in the middle of the war, face pale, breathing shallow.
Sirius’s hand found his shoulder again. "He doesn’t mind. Do you, Reggie?"
"...No," Regulus whispered.
"You don’t look like you mean that," muttered Fabian.
"Looks like he’s been trained to mean it," Gideon added, cold.
James stepped forward again, this time gentler. "Regulus. If you ever need anything, you come to us, alright? You’re a Gryffindor. We take care of our own."
Regulus didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Sirius’s fingers tightened just slightly on his shoulder.
"Come on," Sirius said, his voice suddenly soft, sickly sweet, like rotting fruit. "Let’s get you to bed."
"Not a fucking chance," snapped Lily, stepping in front of them.
Regulus tensed.
"Move," Sirius said, eyes like daggers.
"No," she said. "He’s staying with us."
"He's mine—"
"He’s not your pet!"
Sirius laughed, sharp and broken and bitter. "You lot don’t know anything. You see him on a broom and think you know him? You don’t. He’s never belonged to you."
"He doesn’t belong to you either!" Remus snapped.
"I raised him."
"He’s fifteen," said James. "He’s not property."
Sirius’s eyes glinted. "He’s a Black. We were born property."
No one spoke for a second.
Then Regulus—quiet, shaking Regulus—stepped forward.
Out from Sirius’s grip.
He didn’t say anything.
He just walked.
Past James.
Past Lily.
Past Peter and Mary and Marlene and all the rest.
He walked into the crowd of red and gold, and none of them touched him.
Sirius didn’t follow.
Not this time.
He just stood on the stairs, breathing hard, staring at the empty space Regulus had left behind.
For the first time in years, he didn’t know where his little lion was going.
And that terrified him more than anything.
Regulus was already gone.
That was the thing James Potter noticed first, once the rush of adrenaline faded and the echoes of footsteps disappeared up the spiral toward Gryffindor Tower. One second the boy had been there—small, pale, folded in on himself like he’d learned how to make himself invisible—and the next, nothing but cold air and the faint scent of parchment and soap.
Gone.
Which meant Sirius Black had nothing left to focus on except them.
“Oh, look at that,” Sirius drawled, slow and poisonous, eyes tracking the space where Regulus had vanished. “You frightened him off. Hope you’re proud.”
James scoffed. “We didn’t do anything. You were the one grabbing him on the stairs.”
“Grabbing?” Sirius laughed, sharp and humourless. “God, Potter, you really do love the sound of your own voice. I was walking with my brother.”
There it was.
Brother.
The word hit the group like a Bludger to the ribs.
“—Your what?” Peter blurted.
Marlene’s eyebrows nearly left her face. “Hold on. Regulus is your brother?”
“Yes,” Sirius snapped, turning fully now, green eyes blazing. “Congratulations. You can read.”
“But—you’re in Slytherin,” Alice said slowly, trying to piece it together. “And he’s… he’s in Gryffindor.”
“And?” Sirius tilted his head. “Blood doesn’t stop working just because a Hat fucks up.”
Remus frowned. “We didn’t even know.”
“That’s because none of you pay attention,” Sirius shot back. “You see what you want. Big names. Loud voices. You don’t notice the quiet ones unless they’re winning you matches.”
James bristled. “Oi. He’s a good Seeker. We notice that.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” Sirius sneered. “You notice him when he’s useful. When he’s flying. When he’s convenient. You don’t know a thing about him.”
“And you do?” Lily asked, arms crossed. “Because from where we were standing, it looked like you were intimidating him.”
Fabian stepped forward, jaw tight. “Doesn’t matter. He’s a fifth year. You don’t get to corner him like that.”
“He’s my brother,” Sirius repeated, slower this time, as if explaining something painfully obvious to idiots. “I’ve known him since he was born. Since he screamed himself hoarse in the nursery because he hated being alone. Since he learned how to read before he learned how to fly. I know exactly how far I can push him.”
“That’s not reassuring,” Gideon muttered.
Sirius rounded on him. “Did I ask?”
James stepped in, placing himself squarely between Sirius and the others. “You don’t own him, Black.”
The rivalry snapped tight between them, years of detentions and hexes and shouted insults crackling in the air.
Sirius smiled like he’d been waiting for this. “Don’t I?”
James clenched his fists. “No. And the fact you think you do is exactly why he bolted the second he could.”
“You don’t know why he left.”
“Then tell us,” Mary snapped. “Because from what we saw, he looked terrified.”
Sirius’s gaze flicked—just for a moment—to the stairs again. Something dark passed through his eyes before the smugness slammed back into place.
“He always looks like that,” Sirius said. “That’s just how he is. Nervous little thing. Always has been.”
“That’s bullshit,” Remus said quietly. “I’ve seen him in the library. He laughs. He argues. He doesn’t look anything like that.”
Sirius’s jaw tightened. “Funny. You spend a lot of time watching my brother, Lupin?”
Remus didn’t flinch. “Enough to know he’s not what you’re pretending he is.”
“Oh?” Sirius took a step closer, looming. “And what is he, then? Your precious little Gryffindor mascot? Your injured cub you can feel noble about protecting?”
“He’s one of us,” James said firmly. “And we look after our own.”
Sirius laughed, low and cruel. “You didn’t even know him.”
Silence.
“That’s what I thought,” Sirius continued. “You don’t know where he grew up. You don’t know what food he hates, or how he chews the inside of his cheek when he’s anxious, or that he hates fireworks because they’re too loud, or that he still can’t sleep without a light on. You don’t know anything.”
Lily’s voice cut through, sharp as glass. “And yet he ran from you.”
That landed.
Sirius’s smile twitched.
“He ran because you interfered,” Sirius snapped. “Because you filled his head with nonsense about choice and belonging. He doesn’t need that.”
“He deserves that,” Alice said softly.
Sirius rounded on her. “You don’t get to decide what he deserves.”
James stepped forward again. “Then neither do you.”
For a heartbeat, it looked like Sirius might hex him on the spot. His wand hand twitched. The air felt electric, dangerous.
But Sirius only laughed again, bitter and cold.
“Enjoy playing hero, Potter,” he said. “It won’t last. He always comes back. He always does.”
“Maybe this time he won’t,” Marlene shot back.
Sirius’s eyes flashed. “He will. He’s mine.”
“No,” James said, voice low. “He’s Regulus. And whether you like it or not, he’s a Gryffindor. Which means if you lay a hand on him again like that—”
“What?” Sirius interrupted. “You’ll do what? Fight me? You’ve been trying that for six years. Hasn’t worked yet.”
James smiled, all teeth. “There’s a first time for everything.”
The two of them stared each other down, years of rivalry burning hot and furious between them, until finally Sirius scoffed and stepped back.
“This isn’t over,” he said. “You’ve just made things worse for him.”
Then he turned on his heel, cloak snapping behind him, and vanished down the stairs toward the dungeons.
The Gryffindors stood there in the aftermath, breathing hard.
Peter broke the silence. “Blimey.”
Remus rubbed his temples. “That was… bad.”
Lily stared up the staircase Regulus had taken, worry etched deep into her face. “We need to check on him.”
James nodded immediately. “Yeah. We do.”
“Do you think he’s okay?” Mary asked.
James didn’t answer right away. He just looked at the empty stairwell, jaw tight.
“No,” he said finally. “But we’re not letting him deal with that alone anymore.”
The moment Sirius vanished in a swirl of green-black robes and fury, the tension cracked like a spell had lifted.
“Go,” James said, already sprinting. “Now, before he shuts himself in the dorms!”
Peter puffed, scrambling after him. “How’s he gonna hide in the Tower?”
“Exactly,” Remus muttered, shoving past a moving staircase. “We’ve got a window.”
Marlene cackled as she leapt three steps at a time. “We’re chasing down a fifth year like he’s a flight risk.”
“He is!” Lily shouted.
They reached the top landing just as the last flick of black curls disappeared through the portrait hole.
“Wait—wait—Regulus!” James called.
The Fat Lady startled in her frame, clutching her pearls. “Oh, heavens!”
Regulus spun on the threshold, half through the portrait hole, and screamed.
Loudly.
“FUCKING—”
James froze mid-stride.
“Oh my god,” Mary said.
“Holy shit,” Frank whispered.
“Christ, kid—” Gideon was laughing.
Regulus clutched his chest, wide grey eyes blown out, panting like he’d just seen a ghost. “You can’t—you can’t just fucking appear like that! I could’ve died! Do you want a body on your hands?! I’m delicate!”
Peter was giggling into his sleeve. “We didn’t mean to—”
James, who had frozen completely, now blinked and grinned wide. “Sorry, mate. Just—we wanted to check you were alright, and—”
Regulus was still panting, hand over his chest. The Fat Lady was hovering behind him, making soft cooing noises.
“Poor darling,” she said, patting Regulus’s shoulder fondly. “He’s one of my favourites, this one. So polite, always says thank you, never slams the frame open like some others.”
“I’m fine,” Regulus muttered, straightening and smoothing his robes, but he was going red, and not in the Gryffindor pride way. “Just... jump-scared by ten giant lions stampeding through the hallway like a pack of rabid warhounds.”
Alice snorted.
James grinned. “Fair. Sorry again. We just—we didn’t know.”
“Didn’t know what?” Regulus asked, flat.
“That you were—you know—Sirius’s brother. That you were you.”
“I’ve introduced myself before,” Regulus said dryly.
They blinked.
“I’ve met all of you.”
Silence.
“You helped me find my cat last year, Lily. Mary, I handed you your wand in Potions when it rolled off the desk. Frank, we studied together for the DADA exam last spring. You used my notes.”
Frank looked mortified. “Oh my god.”
“I introduced myself to James the first day I joined the Quidditch team. You’re my captain.”
“I—shit—I—” James was sputtering.
“I’ve been in classes with all of you. I’m on the advanced track. They moved me up in a few subjects. You literally partnered me once in Charms, Remus.”
Remus looked like he was trying to crawl into the wall. “Fuck.”
“I’m the one who fought off that group of Slytherins in the courtyard two weeks ago. For picking on the first years.”
“That was you?!” Peter gasped.
“Five against one,” Regulus said, examining his nails. “Didn’t even break a sweat.”
Everyone stared at him.
“You’re a fifth year,” James said blankly.
“Technically,” Regulus shrugged. “Academically I’m kind of a weird liminal space of terror and excellence.”
A beat.
“You’re joking,” Marlene said.
“No,” Regulus said, deadpan. “I’m just finally allowed to speak uninterrupted for once in my life. It's fucking euphoric.”
Peter laughed so hard he snorted.
Lily gawked. “You’re—hang on—wait—you’re funny?”
Regulus blinked. “I’ve always been funny. You people just weren’t listening.”
They were all staring at him now.
Actually looking.
Really, truly seeing.
And fuck.
Now that he wasn’t curled in on himself, now that he wasn’t being yanked around by Sirius or flinching from the attention, the actual sight of Regulus Black hit them like a rogue Bludger.
He wasn’t pretty in the obvious Sirius Black way, all swagger and wolfish smirks. No, Regulus was... otherworldly.
Grey eyes, wide and sharp and ancient. Short black curls that curled damp against his pale skin, cheeks flushed from the stairs, pink lips parted as he caught his breath. Delicate wrists, fine-boned hands. That slow, calm gaze like he was forever hovering just beyond the edge of something too big for the room.
Soft, in a way none of the Blacks ever were. Beautiful, in a way Sirius never was.
The common room lights caught on his cheekbones, and there was a ripple through the group like they'd all suddenly realised they were standing in front of a bloody celestial event.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Gideon muttered.
“He’s gorgeous,” said Mary under her breath.
“Why isn’t he noticed more?” Alice whispered.
“Because we’re fucking idiots,” Fabian answered.
Regulus blinked, confused at the sudden silence.
“…What?”
They all stared at him.
He frowned. “What.”
Marlene opened her mouth. Closed it. “Nothing.”
“No, what,” Regulus said, taking a step back. “Why are you all looking at me like I’m edible. Stop that. Stop that.”
Lily gasped. “Did your voice just crack?”
“No!”
“Are you blushing?”
“I don’t blush—”
“You’re so red,” James said, eyes wide with delight.
“Shut up! Shut up! You can’t do this, this isn’t allowed, I have social anxiety!”
He turned to flee.
The Fat Lady opened her portrait wider, ready to usher him inside like some fairy godmother. “Oh no you don’t, love. You stay right there.”
Peter darted forward and gently caught Regulus by the sleeve. “Hey, it’s alright. We’re just surprised, is all.”
“I didn’t—this wasn’t—I didn’t want a scene,” Regulus hissed.
“Bit late for that,” Remus said gently, stepping up beside him. “But we’re sorry. For not noticing before.”
Regulus bit his lip. “S’fine.”
“It’s not,” Lily said. “But we’re gonna fix it. You’re one of us.”
“I’ve always been one of you,” Regulus said, a little hoarse.
“Yeah,” James said, smiling. “Now we finally know it.”
He hesitated.
“Come on,” James added. “Let us get to know you properly. Please?”
Regulus blinked. Then sighed. “You lot aren’t going to leave me alone, are you.”
“Nope,” Frank grinned.
“Not a chance,” Mary winked.
Regulus groaned, but it wasn’t real. His shoulders were relaxed now, expression calm.
“…Fine,” he muttered. “But I want tea. And a blanket. And someone has to carry me if I get tired.”
Marlene immediately raised her hand. “Shotgun.”
“You people are freaks,” Regulus deadpanned.
“We’re your freaks now,” said James.
Regulus rolled his eyes. But the corner of his mouth curled, just a little.
And for the first time in five years, when the Fat Lady’s portrait swung shut behind them, Regulus Black wasn’t walking into the common room alone.
He’d intended to sneak back into the dorms, collapse facedown on his bed, and pretend the whole corridor incident had never happened. But now here he was—on a squashy armchair with a hot mug of tea in his lap, ten sixth-years draped around the common room like a semi-cultish pride of lion cubs, interrogating him like they were trying to crack a code.
To be fair, he was the code.
“…So wait,” James said for the fifth time, eyes narrowed. “You’re telling me you’re in our year for Charms and Arithmancy?”
“Yep,” Regulus replied, sipping his tea.
“But you’re a fifth-year.”
“Still correct.”
Lily blinked. “And also in sixth-year Potions.”
“And Defence,” Regulus added. “Got moved up last spring.”
“Are you secretly fifty?” Peter asked. “Did you sell your soul to McGonagall?”
“Not yet,” Regulus said. “She’s still negotiating.”
They all snorted. Gideon stared at him over the top of a Butterbeer. “How the fuck have we not noticed you before?”
“You’re not very observant,” Regulus said cheerfully.
“You’re savage,” Marlene muttered, grinning.
“You think I survived my family by being nice?”
That sobered them a little.
“Speaking of,” Frank said. “Your brother’s… intense.”
“Understatement,” Regulus muttered into his mug. “He’s always been like that.”
“You mean… possessive?”
“I mean deranged.” Regulus sighed. “He’s been weird about me since I was born. Used to watch me sleep, dress me up like a doll, sit me on his lap in front of the fireplace like a villain stroking a cat.”
“Oh my god,” Mary gasped.
“He’d make me promise things,” Regulus continued. “Swear loyalty. Tell him I loved him more than anyone else. He’d sulk if I said Mum.”
“That’s so much to unpack,” Alice whispered.
“Yeah, well, good luck unpacking him. He comes in chains and blood pacts.”
“…What?” Fabian blinked.
“Soulbound,” Regulus said casually. “Did it when we were kids. Some obscure old spell he found in one of Father’s grimoires. Bound me to him.”
They screamed.
“WHAT?!”
“He soulbound you?!”
“Is that legal?!”
“Of course not. We’re Blacks.”
“Why didn’t anyone stop him?!”
“Who the fuck is going to stop Sirius Black from doing anything?” Regulus snorted. “Certainly not me. I was eight.”
“Why would he do that?” Lily asked.
“He’s jealous,” Regulus said simply. “And territorial. He didn’t want our parents marrying me off. So he beat them to it, magically. Been hinting about making it official ever since.”
“Betrothal?” Marlene choked.
“Yeah,” Regulus said tiredly. “Not ideal. I’ve been dodging it for years.”
“Years?” James was scandalised.
“Welcome to the house of Black,” Regulus deadpanned.
“Your family’s nuts,” Peter whispered.
“Cousins?” Remus asked gently.
Regulus raised three fingers. “Narcissa, Andromeda, Bellatrix. One is scary-hot and married, one is scary-hot and estranged, and one is just scary. You can guess which.”
“Bellatrix.”
Regulus nodded.
“She used to try and feed me her potions when I was a kid,” he added thoughtfully.
“WHY.”
“I was a picky eater.”
“You grew up in a haunted fucking manor, didn’t you,” said Gideon.
Regulus shrugged. “Yeah. But the library’s amazing.”
“So—” James shook his head like he was trying to reboot his brain. “What about you? What d’you like? Other than books and torment.”
“Quidditch,” Regulus said at once. “Flying’s the only thing that shuts my brain up.”
“You’re a damn good Seeker,” James admitted.
“I know.”
“And hobbies?”
Regulus sipped his tea. “Sketching. Arithmancy puzzles. I like storms.”
“Storms?”
“Yeah.” Regulus looked wistful. “Something about watching lightning wreck shit from a safe distance is very soothing.”
Frank whispered, “He’s so elegantly feral.”
“And you’ve got a dog don't you? I've seen you walk one.” Alice asked.
“Oh. Yeah. A long-haired Rottweiler named Octavius.”
“Wait—THE Octavius?” Lily asked. “The one that dragged someone across the lawn last year?”
“Yeah. That was me. He got excited and I tripped on his lead. He thought it was a game.”
Peter was crying laughing. “He’s bigger than you!”
“He was trained by Sirius,” Regulus said dryly. “To attack people who get too close.”
They screamed again.
“WHY?”
“Jealousy,” Regulus said. “You catching on yet?”
“Oh my god—”
“What about dating?” Mary asked.
Regulus went very still.
“Sirius beat up my last boyfriend,” he said after a moment.
“What?!”
“Hospital wing. Broken nose. I wasn’t allowed to speak to him again.”
“That’s fucked.”
“Yeah.”
“…You’re not a virgin though, like, I've heard rumours,” Marlene said casually.
Regulus blinked. “No. And when Sirius found out that, he sent that guy to the hospital too. For weeks.”
They stared at him.
Regulus shrugged. “Pure jealousy. Or maybe spite. He doesn’t take rejection well.”
“So… are you single now?” James asked without thinking.
Everyone turned to him.
“What?” he blinked. “I didn’t say anything weird—”
“YES you did,” Lily snapped.
Regulus sighed. “I am. And planning to stay that way until someone can outrun my brother and my dog.”
Remus grinned. “Sounds like a magical trial.”
“It is. Like dating me is the triwizard tournament. You need skill, luck, and a goddamn death wish.”
They were all still laughing when the shift hit.
It was subtle at first.
Regulus’s tea was finished, but he hadn’t moved to get another. He was sitting a little deeper in the chair, eyes half-lidded, posture slightly curled inwards. He was quieter now, only answering every third question, nodding rather than speaking, breathing shallow.
Mary noticed first.
“Hey,” she said softly, “You alright?”
He nodded.
Then James leaned forward and frowned. “You tired?”
Regulus nodded again.
“Want us to stop?” Lily asked.
Regulus looked at her. Tried to answer.
Nothing came out.
Not even a whisper.
Remus sat up straighter. “It’s okay. I think—he’s gone non-verbal.”
They all blinked.
“He’s selectively mute?” Fabian asked gently.
“Looks like it,” Remus nodded.
Regulus’s eyes flicked to him, grateful.
“Want to tap out?” Remus asked.
Regulus hesitated.
Then slowly slid off the chair.
And changed.
Right there in front of them, in the middle of the rug, with no warning whatsoever, a twist of magic shimmered—and where Regulus had been, now sat…
A pale white-grey fennec fox.
Small, sleek, long-limbed and ghostlike, with huge velvet ears and sharp silver eyes. He blinked slowly, nose twitching, tail curling neatly over his feet.
The entire room exploded.
“OH MY FUCKING GOD—”
“WHAT—WHAT—WHAT—”
“IS THAT—REGULUS? IS THAT—YOU?!”
James practically fell off the couch.
Mary screamed.
Lily gasped and slapped Peter.
Peter was crying.
“He’s tiny!”
“He’s so fucking cute!”
“Those ears!”
Regulus—now fox—closed his eyes and curled up in a perfect little circle, tail around nose.
“Oh my god,” Gideon said, horrified. “We’ve all just been—stepping over him in the common room for years.”
“We’ve pet him!” Fabian wailed. “I thought he was someone’s familiar!”
“I GAVE HIM CHEESE!” Mary screamed.
Remus, absolutely wheezing, “He took it, too.”
Regulus’s fennec form flicked one ear, smug.
James was staring like the world had broken.
“…I tried to charm that fox to get off my Charms homework once,” he said blankly. “And it was him. It was Regulus.”
The fennec blinked.
Grinned.
And stretched out with a little yawn, curling tighter into himself like a crescent moon of pale fur and mischief.
Lily shook her head slowly. “We’re the dumbest fucking House in the school.”
And they sat with him—ten stunned sixth-years and one smug little soulbound fox—long into the night, finally starting to learn who Regulus Black really was.
It was peaceful in the common room.
The kind of warm, golden, crackling quiet that only came after hours of laughter and the slow, sweet collapse of adrenaline. The fire was low now, and the lions were scattered in tangled heaps across cushions and rugs and sofas, a den of relaxed chaos.
And in the centre of it all—tucked on the edge of the hearth—curled a ghost-pale fennec fox.
Regulus.
He looked like a whispered spell, all soft ears and snowy fur, little nose twitching gently as his breath slowed into something even. The kind of calm that only came from being surrounded, for once, by people who didn’t want to claim or crush him.
Which is why the noise—sudden, sharp, rising—was wrong.
The hallway beyond the portrait had exploded into chaos.
Yelling.
Laughter.
Slamming footsteps.
Dozens of them.
The common room flinched as one.
“What the hell—?” James sat up.
“I thought curfew was in twenty minutes,” Peter said, blinking groggily.
Regulus's ears twitched.
Then stood upright.
His entire form went still—too still.
A tremble shot through his paws.
He was up in an instant, dashing behind the armchair so fast he nearly tripped, eyes wide, tail fluffed out in panic.
“Reg?” Lily whispered. “What’s wrong?”
The fox looked at her.
Eyes huge.
And terrified.
The sounds outside grew louder—frenzied, mocking, a storm of voices tumbling over one another with sharp-edged glee.
Marlene stood. “Open the portrait. Now.”
Fabian swung the portrait open.
And Sirius Black was there.
Not alone.
Behind him was a small army of Slytherins, shoulder to shoulder, all draped in silver and green.
Barty Crouch Jr. with his mad grin and wild eyes.
Evan Rosier, calm and unreadable, smirking faintly.
Pandora Rosier, twirling her wand like a knife between her fingers.
Dorcas Meadowes, sharp-boned and cruel-eyed, licking a lolly with a flick of her tongue.
Mulciber. Avery. Travers. Wilkes. Even fucking Rabastan Lestrange.
The corridor stank of overconfidence and old magic.
Sirius shoved forward.
“Where is he?”
James stepped in front of him. “You’re not allowed in here—”
Sirius didn’t even look at him.
He stepped over the threshold.
“Regulus?” he sang, cooing, low and syrup-thick. “Reggie, sweetheart. Big brother’s here.”
“Oh hell no,” Mary muttered.
Lily drew her wand.
“Regulus, darling,” Sirius crooned, tilting his head and sniffing the air like an absolute lunatic. “Mmm, that’s your perfume, isn’t it? Vetiver, bergamot, vanilla… gods, I could track you through the bloody Forbidden Forest with how sweet you smell.”
The Gryffindors lunged to stop him—but the Slytherins were already slipping inside, slinking between them like shadows.
“Aw, don’t be rude,” Pandora cooed at Marlene, blocking her path. “Let them reunite.”
“I think it’s romantic,” Dorcas purred, flopping onto the back of the couch. “Soulmates and all.”
“Obsessive,” Evan corrected, “but sure.”
James spun. “Move. Now.”
“No thanks,” Barty said, grinning like a shark. “We want to see what happens next.”
Sirius was sniffing again.
“Come on, little fox,” he murmured. “I know you’re here. I can feel you.”
Regulus darted.
Too fast for the others to catch, a streak of pale fur and panic bolting out from behind the couch—desperate for the stairs, the dorms, anywhere but here—
Sirius grabbed him mid-leap.
Scooped him up, like a hunter snatching a rabbit from the jaws of escape.
“There you are,” he whispered, cradling him close, burying his face in that soft fur, breathing him in like an addict.
The fox kicked wildly, ears back, body twisting—
But Sirius was stronger. Always had been.
He held him like something precious, something breakable, something his.
“Oh, I missed you,” Sirius crooned, voice sticky with hunger and love and something worse. “You were gone so long, Reggie. You had your fun, yeah? Playing with the lions? Playing pretend?”
He nuzzled the fox’s cheek. “But you belong with me. Don’t you? My little fox. My sweet one.”
James was shaking. “Put him down.”
“Mm-mm,” Sirius hummed, swaying a little with Regulus in his arms, like he was soothing a baby to sleep. “You don’t get to have him.”
“Sirius—”
“Shh. He’s with me now.”
The fox shifted—
And Regulus was there again.
Human again.
Small in Sirius’s arms, curled inwards, breath shallow, eyes wide and mute and trembling.
His hands shoved weakly at Sirius’s chest, trying to push him off, but Sirius only laughed, soft and giddy.
“Gods, look at you,” he whispered. “You’re so beautiful, Reg. You know that? My little lion fox. My darling boy.”
He kissed his cheek.
His jaw.
The corner of his mouth.
“Mine. Mine. Mine.”
Regulus made a sound like a whimper, but it barely passed his lips. His throat was tight. Closed.
No one could hear him.
No one could stop him.
Sirius was already turning—carrying him out like a groom with a bride, fingers petting through his curls, whispering all the while.
“You’re tired, yeah? I’ll tuck you in. You’ve been talking too much, haven’t you? Shouldn’t talk to strangers, Reggie. They don’t understand you. I do. Always have. Always will.”
The Gryffindors surged to follow—
But the Slytherins were already moving, grinning, blocking the path again like guards at a coronation.
“Goodnight, Gryffindors,” Pandora smirked.
“Thanks for babysitting,” Evan added.
And with that—
The portrait slammed shut behind them.
The common room was silent.
Shocked.
James was the first to speak, voice shaking with fury.
It was one of those long, dragging Thursday afternoons where the sky outside was pissing down rain, the library smelled like dust and despair, and even Filch’s yelling had lost its sting. No Quidditch, no classes, and no immediate drama. Just the corridor outside the Charms classroom, where the Gryffindor mob had gathered like bored lions, hunting for chaos.
“I’m so fucking bored I’m about to hex my own foot just for entertainment,” James Potter groaned, flopping dramatically backwards onto the stone bench like a dying swan.
“I vote we prank the Ravenclaws,” Fabian said, arms crossed, eyes glittering with mischief. “They deserve it for being so… bloody clever all the time.”
“They helped you with your Transfiguration essay last week,” Alice Fortescue reminded, raising a brow.
“Yes, and they were very smug about it,” Fabian sniffed. “Intolerable.”
“Let’s do something fun,” Lily Evans muttered, twirling her wand between her fingers. “Not stupid. Fun.”
“Define the difference,” Sirius said, leaning against the wall with a lazy smirk. “Because I’ve found the line between the two is usually where I thrive.”
Mary Macdonald, Marlene McKinnon, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Gideon Prewett, and Frank Longbottom were all slouched nearby in various states of sloth. Peter had conjured a pocket-sized jellyfish that hovered above his hand like a squishy balloon. Remus looked like he was halfway into a nap. Gideon was stealing sips of whatever was in Marlene’s flask.
The hall echoed with yawns and sarcastic mutterings. The vibe was feral boredom.
Then—
BAM.
A door flung open at the far end of the hallway.
Heavy, hurried footsteps slapped against the stone.
Regulus Arcturus Black.
Hair windblown. Tie askew. Coat flaring behind him like some dramatic little Victorian ghost in a rush. He stormed down the hall at full tilt, not even sparing the Gryffindor group a glance. His grey eyes were locked, sharp and frantic.
The group froze mid-conversation. Neck snaps. Eyes narrowed.
“Oi,” James said automatically, already standing. “What the fuck do you want, Slytherin?”
Regulus didn’t flinch. Didn’t even glance. Didn’t even breathe in their direction.
He went straight to Sirius.
That was weird.
Like—capital letters WEIRD.
Sirius, who had been lounging against the wall like a prince in a trench coat, blinked as his younger brother skidded to a halt in front of him.
“Sirius,” Regulus said breathlessly, cheeks flushed, rain in his curls. “I need money.”
The silence was immediate and violent.
The Gryffindors stared.
Regulus’s voice was tight, fast, urgent. “It’s for this Quidditch gear. Custom order. Limited run. I’ve been saving but it’s expensive and Mother won’t give me a single fucking Knut—”
“You’re joking,” Marlene whispered.
“Oh my God,” Mary whispered louder.
Regulus, completely ignoring them, panted, “It’s in Hogsmeade. Special drop. Only available this weekend. I need it, Sirius. I’ll pay you back.”
Sirius grinned slow and wide, arms folded across his chest.
“Well, well, well,” he drawled. “Look who’s come crawling.”
Regulus groaned. “Sirius—”
“You know the rules, baby brother,” Sirius cooed. “What do you do when you want something from your big brother?”
The Gryffindors collectively leaned forward.
Regulus muttered something under his breath.
Sirius tilted his head.
“Didn’t catch that,” he said innocently, hand cupping his ear.
Regulus stomped his foot. Actually stomped.
“Fine,” he hissed, eyes flashing. Then, with the most aggressive pout any of them had ever seen, he stepped forward, grabbed Sirius by the collar of his robes, and leaned up on tiptoes.
“Please,” he said through gritted teeth. “You stupid fucking smug bastard. Please.”
Sirius beamed.
“There we go.”
And then Regulus did it—did the thing that apparently was tradition in the Black household since the dawn of time. He clung.
Like a needy little cat. Arms around Sirius’s waist, face smooshed into his chest, voice a sugary coo as he whined up at him.
“Please, Siri,” Regulus purred. “You’re the best. You’re so generous. You’re so tall. I love you so much. You’re so good to me. You’re my favourite big brother—”
“I’m your only big brother.”
“Shhh.”
Sirius grinned like Christmas. Wrapped both arms around Regulus’s waist and gave him a smug, squishy squeeze.
Lily Evans was halfway to cardiac arrest. Marlene’s flask dropped to the floor with a clang. Remus made a strangled sound.
“Here,” Sirius said, digging into his pocket. He pulled out a handful of Galleons and handed them to Regulus.
Regulus counted. His face immediately soured.
“This isn’t enough.”
“Excuse me?”
“I told you—it’s expensive. Like, ridiculous.”
“How much are we talking?”
Regulus named a number.
The Gryffindors gasped in unison.
“That’s like… that’s like three months’ rent,” Frank blurted.
“For you,” Sirius snorted. “Peasant.”
He looked down at Regulus.
“You’re such a spoiled little brat,” he said fondly. “Alright. What else do I get?”
Regulus groaned again, louder this time. “You’re the worst.”
“Payment in advance,” Sirius said cheerfully.
Regulus huffed.
Then—
He really leaned in this time. Wrapped his arms around Sirius’s neck. Swayed a little. Let his voice go real soft.
“Please, Siri,” he whispered, batting his eyelashes. “Please, pretty please? You’re so smart and handsome and your hair looks so good today and you’re soooo generous and I’m your baby brother and I’ll love you forever and ever—”
Sirius was glowing.
He grabbed Regulus by the hips, picked him up slightly so the smaller boy was lifted onto his tiptoes, and smooched him square on the lips.
Like a real kiss.
Like a cooing, doting, squishy, familial-but-too-intimate KISS.
“Be a good boy and ask again,” Sirius murmured.
Regulus kissed him back. Nuzzled into his neck. “Please, Siri. You’re the best brother in the world.”
The Gryffindors absolutely imploded.
Peter screamed.
Remus choked on his own spit.
Mary clutched her chest.
Marlene shouted, “WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON—”
“Am I high? Did I smoke something? Did someone dose me?” James demanded, spinning in circles.
Alice stared like she was watching the end of civilisation.
Fabian looked seconds from passing out.
Gideon just whispered, “I’m gonna write about this in my journal.”
“Here,” Sirius said, shoving a small velvet pouch into Regulus’s hands. “Take what you need. Get the thing. Get two.”
Regulus beamed.
“Thanks, Siri!” he shouted, and launched himself at his brother one more time, arms around his neck, kissing his cheek, grinning like he’d just won the lottery.
He shoved the money in his pockets and ran off, skipping like a Victorian orphan who just got adopted by a sugar daddy.
As he disappeared down the corridor, laughing manically, Sirius turned back to his friends, absolutely preening.
“Anything you lot need while I’m feeling generous?” he asked smugly.
No one answered.
Because no one was breathing.
James was staring at him like he’d never seen him before.
“Did your brother just—did he just—what the actual—”
“Did you two just kiss on the—what the fuck—”
“I need to lie down,” said Lily.
“I need to die,” said Fabian.
Sirius smirked.
“Oh, relax,” he said. “We’re just affectionate.”
“THAT WASN’T AFFECTION,” Mary screamed. “THAT WAS FOREPLAY.”
Sirius shrugged. “You’re just mad your little brother doesn’t love you like that.”
“I don’t have a little brother!”
“Exactly.”
James flailed. “Are you trying to seduce him?!”
“Too late if so,” Sirius said cheerfully.
And then he winked.
WINKED.
The hallway erupted into chaos.
The Gryffindors were screaming.
Like, actual screaming. Echoing through the hallway, bouncing off the stones, full-bodied, hand-clutching-the-wall, double-over, near-cardiac-arrest screaming.
“What the FUCK was that?!”
“Did we just—did I dream that—?”
“I think I threw up in my mouth a little—”
“YOU KISSED YOUR BROTHER ON THE MOUTH.”
“I NEED TO BE EXORCISED.”
Sirius Black, meanwhile, was standing like some smug Greek god, glowing under the flickering torchlight, arms crossed and head tilted at a confident angle that screamed Yeah, and?
“Oh calm down,” he said, rolling his eyes, “You lot are acting like I shagged him in front of the Fat Lady.”
“YOU KISSED HIM,” James roared.
“ON THE LIPS!” added Peter, pointing accusingly like he was presenting evidence at a murder trial.
“He kissed me,” Sirius said, so unbothered. “And that was barely a kiss. That was a little smooch. A peck. He didn’t even use tongue—tragic, honestly—”
“SIRIUS.”
“Alright, alright,” Sirius laughed, pushing off the wall and cracking his neck. “You lot are acting like this is news. That was nothing. He used to crawl into bed with me and do all that when we were ten.”
“WHAT?!” Lily shrieked.
Marlene physically recoiled. “Oh my GOD—”
“Not like that!” Sirius huffed, hands flying up. “Jesus, you’re all so weird.”
“We’re weird?!” Frank exclaimed. “You trained your brother like he’s some sort of... of—”
“Dog,” Gideon said, nodding. “Reg’s a trained lapdog.”
“Excuse me?” Sirius snapped, instantly offended. “He is not a dog. Regulus is an expensive purebred kitten. One of those rare ones you keep in silk-lined boxes and feed by hand. He’s precious. He purrs.”
“He purrs?!” Remus choked.
“Absolutely. If you scratch behind his ear.”
Lily looked like she needed to sit down. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
But Sirius was already waxing poetic.
“Look,” he said, tone flipping instantly into dreamy nostalgia, “Reg’s always been like that. Always mine. My baby brother. He’s spoiled as hell, always has been. I trained him like that when we were kids. I had to.”
“Had to?!” Mary blinked. “What does that even mean?!”
Sirius gave a crooked, nonchalant shrug. “Mum and Dad didn’t give a shit about us, yeah? They ignored me first. So I figured—fuck it, if I’m not getting love from them, I’ll make someone love me.”
Everyone was quiet for a beat.
Then Sirius grinned, all teeth. “So I trained my baby brother.”
“You—trained—him?” Remus said, slowly.
“Yep.”
“You made him act like this?” Marlene whispered, halfway between awe and horror.
“Absolutely. Since he was tiny. I taught him everything. Like—everything.”
He counted off on his fingers. “The pout? Me. The big sad eyes? Also me. The clinging and smooching and cuddling and begging for money with kisses and compliments and nuzzles and calling me pretty? Me. All of it. All mine.”
Peter gawked. “You built yourself a baby boyfriend.”
“Brother!” Sirius barked, scandalised.
Remus muttered, “You kissed him, man.”
Sirius waved him off. “He’s so fucking cute. You’ve seen him. Tiny little thing. Great cheekbones. Puppy dog eyes. Kisses so sweet they’d make a Veela cry. I melt every time. Cracks me like an egg. That’s my baby.”
Frank was hyperventilating. “He doesn’t even know it’s weird?!”
James was still pacing. “You corrupted him! You raised a clingy little cash-swindling nuzzling kissing machine!”
“I crafted him,” Sirius corrected proudly. “He’s my greatest work.”
Gideon held up a hand. “Okay, okay, hold on. So, wait—you’re telling us that since he was little, Regulus has been doing all that because you told him to?”
“Yep,” Sirius said cheerfully. “I made him practice his pout in the mirror.”
“Oh my god,” Alice whispered.
“Anytime he wanted anything from me growing up—new broom, sweets, sneaking out to the garden, borrowing my stuff—he had to earn it. I told him exactly how.”
“What do you mean ‘how’?” Marlene asked, suspiciously.
Sirius smirked. “By being cute. Clingy. Begging real nice. Kisses. Compliments. The whole package. He does the voice now—you heard the voice, right?”
“Sirius, pleaseeeee,” James mocked in a high-pitched whimper.
“Exactly!” Sirius snapped, delighted. “You get it.”
Remus dragged a hand down his face. “You are so sick in the head.”
“You’re all jealous,” Sirius said.
“We are concerned,” Lily hissed.
“He’s not even embarrassed,” Peter said. “He just doesn’t want people watching, that’s all.”
“Exactly,” Sirius said proudly. “He didn’t even flinch when I kissed him. He just got embarrassed ‘cause you lot were here.”
Marlene blinked. “So… you’ve done more?”
Sirius hesitated.
Remus narrowed his eyes. “Sirius.”
Sirius gave a sheepish shrug. “I mean… nothing bad. But I’m working on it. Gotta be slow, strategic. Don’t wanna scare him off. But I want him to give more. Do more. Be mine more.”
James flatlined. “You’re in love with your brother.”
Sirius was quiet for a second.
“...Maybe.”
“OH MY GOD,” everyone shrieked.
“YOU ABSOLUTELY ARE.”
“I knew it—”
“I hoped it wasn’t true—”
“WHY IS HE SO PROUD OF THIS?!”
Remus turned to the heavens. “This is not how families are supposed to work!”
Sirius didn’t even care.
He was smiling like a cat who'd licked the cream and stolen the canary too.
“Y’know,” he said, “Reg’s been wearing the necklace I gave him for three years. Hasn’t taken it off once. I charmed it to buzz whenever I want his attention.”
“You leashed him,” Lily gasped.
“I gifted him a magical reminder that I love him. You’re all freaks.”
“You raised him like a personal boyfriend pet!”
“I raised him because no one else would!” Sirius snapped suddenly, voice sharp. “He was a sad little quiet kid who just wanted someone to love him. And I did. And he loved me back. He still does. He just doesn’t know that what he’s doing isn’t normal because I made sure he never questioned it.”
The hallway went quiet.
“...I’m not sure if I’m touched or traumatised,” Marlene whispered.
“Both,” said Alice. “Definitely both.”
“And now,” Sirius continued breezily, flipping his hair, “I’m just waiting for the right moment to get more out of him. Something real. Something big. I’m playing the long game.”
James blinked slowly. “You are unhinged.”
“Maybe,” Sirius said with a smile. “But have you seen my baby brother? Worth it.”
They all stood there, stunned.
Far off in the distance, somewhere down the corridor, a familiar cackle echoed—light and airy and smug as hell.
Regulus, off to spend his money.
Sirius turned toward the sound like a man under a spell.
“God, I love that boy.”
“THERAPY,” the Gryffindors all screamed in unison.
Good Boy
warning - this contains incest, dont like dont read
-----------------------------------------------------
The sun broke jagged through the grounds of the Care of Magical Creatures enclosure like it had something to prove. The dew hadn’t even finished drying on the pumpkin patches when Professor Kettleburn came limping out to greet the mixed year Gryffindor and Slytherin class, his left sleeve conspicuously flapping empty where a limb used to be.
“Right!” Kettleburn shouted, clapping once and then regretting it with a wince. “Today’s lesson! Unorthodox, yes, but inspired! You’re all going to show off your pets!”
The class collectively blinked at him.
“Your companions! Your familiars! Your beloved beasts! Something that reflects your character!” he elaborated, beaming.
"Is this a graded assignment?" Lily asked warily, notebook half out.
"Not officially. Just a practical exercise. Community bonding! Empathy! Enthusiasm for the animal kingdom!"
"Sounds fake but okay," Mary muttered under her breath, already bored.
“Some of us don’t have pets, you mad bastard,” Barty Crouch Jr. drawled, arms folded and eyes half-lidded. He leaned against a fence post with a vague air of someone contemplating whether he could murder a professor and get away with it.
“You should! Every young witch and wizard benefits from the responsibilities of caring for another living creature!” Kettleburn declared, undeterred. “If you don’t have one, partner with a friend! Share custody!”
“Like divorced parents?” James quipped.
“Like responsible young adults,” Kettleburn countered, and gave James a pointed look. “So! Who’s first?”
A wave of students groaned and looked away.
“Alice!” Kettleburn barked cheerfully, “You look radiant this morning, dear girl, start us off!”
Alice Fortescue stepped forward with a slightly embarrassed smile and held up a sleek silver tabby cat with a pink collar.
“This is Honoria,” she said, stroking the feline’s head. “She’s been with me since first year. She's very sweet, and she likes jazz.”
“She’s cute,” Marlene nodded approvingly. “But she looks like she’d stab me in my sleep.”
“She’s a Slytherin’s cat born into a Gryffindor dorm,” Alice agreed, amused. “She’s seen things.”
Next came Evan Rosier, who had a sinister-looking crow perched on his shoulder. The bird immediately screeched, “DIE!”
“Oh, he talks,” Evan said casually.
“He screams,” muttered Remus, flinching.
“His name’s Vesper. He only says things I’ve said near him.”
“That explains it,” Frank said, warily.
Peter stepped up, arms full of what looked like a wriggling tangle of... slime?
“This is Mungus!” he said proudly.
“Is it alive?” Lily asked, recoiling.
“Of course it is! He’s a Flubberworm–Horklump hybrid,” Peter said. “Illegally crossbred. He’s got 76 tiny legs and no discernible front.”
Pandora Rosier, not to be outdone, sauntered forward in a long coat with glittering eyeshadow and a deadpan expression. She reached into her pocket, whispered something in Parseltongue, and produced what looked like a baby basilisk. It blinked.
“Oh what the actual fuck,” Sirius muttered.
“This is Lulu. She's venomous but shy,” Pandora said in her calm monotone. “She only eats live meat.”
“You’re not allowed to have that,” said Lily.
“Then I suppose you should call the authorities,” Pandora murmured, slipping Lulu back into her coat with a whisper.
More students followed—James had his family’s owl who kept flying directly into Kettleburn’s head. Lily had a toad. Remus shyly presented a rescued puffskein named Percy. Marlene brought a sugar glider that clung to her earring. Frank had a toad he’d glamoured to look like a tiny lion. Fabian and Gideon insisted they co-owned a miniature manticore plush that they’d bewitched to bite anyone who insulted Fabian’s hair.
Eventually, only one boy remained.
Regulus Black.
He stood near the back, arms folded over his slim chest, chin high, the sun catching the silver crest on his robes. Unlike the others, he hadn’t produced a crate or a carrier or a wriggling pillowcase. His bag sat calmly at his feet. He hadn’t moved.
“Mr. Black?” Kettleburn prompted.
“Oh,” Regulus said silkily, “I’m last? How quaint. The grand finale.”
Sirius groaned. “Of course you think you’re the finale.”
“Because I am,” Regulus replied without looking at him. He bent with careful grace, drew open his bag—and pulled out a packet of some strange, crinkly, foil-wrapped snack with foreign lettering across the front.
Everyone squinted.
“...What the hell is that?” Mary asked.
“They’re called Yap Chips,” Regulus purred, turning the bag in his fingers like a villain in an advert. “Imported from somewhere far more refined than this damp rock of a country. Hard to find. Delicious. Crunchy. Addictive.”
“Not a pet,” Lily pointed out.
Regulus’ grin was slow. Sharp. Dangerous. He peeled open the top of the bag with a practiced flair and fished one out between two long fingers, holding it up to the sun.
“Well. Not your pet.”
Then he looked directly at Sirius.
There was a flicker in Sirius’s expression. Barely perceptible, but for those who knew him—his friends, the Gryffindors—too perceptible.
His back stiffened. His hands clenched. His pupils dilated. His shoulders twitched like he’d just heard an electric guitar solo from across a battlefield. A bead of sweat formed at his temple.
“...No,” Sirius said quietly.
“Oh yes,” Regulus cooed, stepping forward, slowly. “It’s been years, hasn’t it, Siri? I haven’t brought these out in ages. Our childhood snack of choice. The one Mother said we were never to have. The one you loved more than life itself.”
James turned. “Wait… wait wait wait. Sirius loves those?”
“I don’t—” Sirius croaked, his voice breaking like a thirteen-year-old. “I don’t. I don’t care. They’re gross. Foreign. Probably poisoned—”
“Sit.” Regulus snapped, his voice dark and rich with command.
Sirius froze. His whole body trembled like a taut wire.
Then, to the stunned horror of every person present—he sat. On the grass. Legs tucked, palms flat. Like a well-trained puppy.
Gasps.
James screamed.
“WHAT THE FUCK.”
“Good boy,” Regulus said sweetly, tossing him a Yap Chip.
Sirius caught it. Devoured it in under a second. His eyes rolled back in bliss.
“Now roll over.”
“Sirius—no—” Remus began.
But it was too late.
Sirius Black was on the ground, flopping onto his back, wriggling like a damn golden retriever on bath day.
Peter wheezed. “I’m going to die.”
“Play dead,” Regulus purred.
THUD. Sirius flopped, tongue out, arms limp.
“Oh my god,” Lily whispered, “He’s broken. He’s actually broken.”
Regulus took a slow, arrogant step closer, bending down over his brother. “Speak.”
“Arf,” Sirius whispered.
“Louder.”
“ARF ARF,” Sirius barked, frenzied.
“Beg.”
Sirius rolled back to his knees, eyes wide, panting, tongue lolling, shaking. “Please,” he whimpered. “Please, Reggie, just one more—”
Regulus grinned with devilish delight and dropped another chip into Sirius’s waiting mouth.
“Good boy.”
The world exploded.
Marlene screamed. Gideon fell over. Pandora burst out laughing, which had never happened in recorded history. Kettleburn dropped his clipboard and whispered, “My god.” Evan was crying. Crying. Peter nearly threw up from laughter. Lily looked like she wanted to hex someone and wasn't sure who. Barty was just staring, his mouth twitching like he was experiencing his first emotion. Remus was clutching James’s sleeve, stunned.
“Sirius,” James gasped, “you’re a DOG. He made you his DOG.”
Sirius didn’t respond. He was too busy pawing gently at Regulus’s leg for another snack.
Regulus tilted his head. “Should I make him fetch? Or shake? Or do the one where he stands on his hind legs and claps—”
“I SWEAR TO GOD,” Sirius snapped, crumbs falling from his mouth, “If you tell them about the clapping trick I will—”
“SIT.”
Sirius immediately sat.
“STAY.”
Sirius froze in place, twitching.
Regulus turned to the class with a smile like a knife dipped in honey.
“My pet, Professor,” he said, smug and triumphant. “I trained him myself.”
Kettleburn, silent for once, just nodded slowly.
“Well,” he murmured. “Ten points to Slytherin.”
“You’re so good, Siri,” Regulus crooned in a syrupy baby voice, crouched beside his older brother, stroking his head like a prize-winning corgi. “So clever. So obedient. Who’s my good boy?”
Sirius barked once, tailbone wagging like he had one.
James was on his knees, clutching Remus like he’d just witnessed the second coming of Merlin. “This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.”
“It is,” Remus muttered, wide-eyed. “It so is.”
Regulus dusted off another Yap Chip, holding it up just above Sirius’s mouth. “Say ‘I’m a mutt and I belong to you.’”
Sirius panted.
“Sirius, don’t,” Lily pleaded.
“I’m a mutt and I belong to you,” Sirius said immediately, eyes locked on the treat.
Regulus grinned. “Good boy!” He popped the chip into his brother’s mouth, then gave his head a vigorous little ruffle. “Who's my sweet slobbery little mongrel? Who’s my messy, hairy, obedient, horny little puppy—”
“I hate how specific that was,” Frank whispered.
Dorcas was filming everything with a handheld camera she’d conjured out of nowhere. “This is art. This is history. This is my thesis.”
Pandora clapped softly, expression unreadable. “This is romantic.”
“I’m gonna be sick,” Marlene muttered.
“I’ve got so many questions,” Fabian said.
“I’ve got none and I like it that way,” Gideon replied.
“I’ve got an answer,” Barty cut in dryly, “And the answer is Regulus wins.”
Sirius was now flopped on his belly, licking his palm like it was a paw.
Peter stared in open horror. “...How long has this been happening?”
“Oh, years,” Regulus said airily, adjusting his cufflinks. “Since we were little. Seven? Eight? Maybe six.”
“WHAT?” the Gryffindors screamed in unison.
“It started because we weren’t allowed pets,” Regulus went on, tone dreamy, stroking Sirius’s hair with fond, calculated cruelty. “Our parents said animals were beneath us, that we weren’t to dirty the house with them. I wanted a puppy more than anything. I was so distraught. Threw a tantrum. Cried for days. And then…” He turned to Sirius with a wicked grin. “My big brother decided to cheer me up.”
James blinked. “You mean this was Sirius’s idea?!”
Sirius barked, looked up, and whined, “He was so sad…”
Regulus beamed. “Isn’t he sweet?”
“So what,” Mary asked slowly, “he just started acting like your dog?”
“Literally got down on all fours and followed me around the house barking,” Regulus said smugly. “I was a grieving child. Naturally, I went with it. Fed him scraps under the table. Taught him tricks. Named him Starwhiskers. We never told our parents. We used to sneak into the gardens at night so he could pee on the roses.”
“REG!” Sirius hissed, ears red.
“I made you shit in the hydrangeas, don't pretend you forgot.”
“I fed him from a bowl for a week,” Reg continued proudly. “Used to sprinkle bacon bits in it. Even stuck a leash on him. Once I charmed a shock collar—just to see what would happen!”
“I thought we knew everything about Sirius Black,” James said hollowly. “But I didn’t know this.”
“Fetch,” Regulus said suddenly, hurling another Yap Chip into the grass.
Sirius took off like a blur, bolting on all fours across the enclosure. He skidded, pounced, ate the snack off the ground, then trotted proudly back, tailbone wiggling.
Regulus cackled, absolutely manic with delight. “What a good dog! What a stupid, food-driven, drooling little hound! C’mere, baby, give me a kiss—”
Sirius leapt. Tackled his brother flat into the grass with a loud oof, tailbone thumping like a metronome of shame. Everyone watched, open-mouthed, as Sirius went full puppy mode—rolling on Reg, nuzzling his chest, licking his face.
Regulus shrieked. “Get off me you absolute beast!”
“Nope,” Sirius said cheerfully, licking his brother’s cheek. “Missed my baby brother.”
“You’re crushing me,” Reg wheezed, trying to shove him off. “You’re too big, you floppy brute—”
Sirius just licked his neck. “You smell nice. Like spite and shampoo. Missed my master.”
“Don’t call me that in public!”
“You love it,” Sirius whispered, lips ghosting Reg’s ear.
“GET OFF—”
Reg’s protest cut short with a glare. “Are you hard? AGAIN?!”
The entire class collectively froze.
Sirius grinned, sly and unrepentant. “Oops.”
“You disgusting mutt,” Reg growled, trying to wriggle out from under him. “I told you not to do this in front of people!”
“Oh c’mon, Reggie baby, it’s not the first time,” Sirius purred. “You’re so good at taking a knot. And I’m in rut—you know you’re the only one who can help me…”
Pandora actually fainted.
Mary screamed and tried to climb Marlene like a tree.
Dorcas shrieked, “EXPLAIN THE ‘FIRST TIME’ RIGHT NOW.”
“I won’t!” Reg wailed, pounding on Sirius’s chest. “GET OFF ME YOU STUPID DOG.”
“I’ll stop if you give me another snack,” Sirius offered sweetly, wiggling his hips just enough to make Reg screech again.
Regulus looked to Kettleburn like he was begging for divine intervention. “DO SOMETHING!”
Kettleburn, hands shaking, whispered, “I’m too old for this shit.”
Barty Crouch Jr. just clapped slowly. “Bravo. The leash was symbolic.”
Sirius had officially lost his damn mind.
He was all smirks and slurred coos now, towering over Reg like a Great Dane with no sense of boundaries. Lips brushing his baby brother’s ear, hands slipping around Reg’s waist like he belonged there—like he'd always belonged there—nuzzling and licking and goddamn whimpering like some desperate, horny stray.
“C’mon, Reggie,” Sirius murmured, nipping lightly at Reg’s neck as his hips lazily pressed in with entirely too much intent. “You’re so pretty when you squirm. So fucking perfect. My favourite little toy. Can’t I have a treat too?”
Regulus shoved at him. “Get off me, mongrel!”
“I want you as my treat,” Sirius whispered, breath hot, voice sing-song and filthy. “Wanna eat you up. Wanna feel your pretty little cunt on my tongue—wanna go doggy style and rail you so dumb you can’t even spell Arithmancy, baby—”
“YOU ARE IN PUBLIC,” Reg shouted, face bright red, trying to kick him off.
“Mmhm. Public’s fun.” Sirius kissed his cheek, then his temple, then his mouth. Sloppy and grinning and so obviously enjoying the chaos. “Want you sitting on my face. Want your thighs around my ears, want you whimpering my name while I fuck the brat outta you—”
“BAD DOG!” Reg yelled, smacking him across the head.
Sirius yelped and whined dramatically, tongue out, eyes wide.
“Down, boy!” Reg snapped, bopping his nose with two fingers. “Bad. Dog. You get nothing when you act like this.”
Sirius growled and then smirked, eyes gleaming with dangerous heat. “But I like it when you scold me. Makes me wanna hump your leg. Do it again. Tell me I’m bad.”
“YOU ARE BAD!” Reg shouted, trying to crawl away as Sirius followed like a predator on all fours, purring and pawing and nuzzling his hip.
Everyone else?
Absolutely, irreversibly losing their fucking minds.
“THIS IS NOT A FAMILY DYNAMIC!” Lily shrieked, clutching Marlene’s arm like a lifeline.
“I KNEW HE WAS INTO FREAKY SHIT BUT THIS IS ACTUALLY INSANE!” James howled.
“Is this still Care of Magical Creatures or has it become Care of Your Unhinged Brother?” Remus deadpanned, staring into the void.
“Honestly this explains so much,” Peter muttered. “Sirius always did have big dog energy.”
“He used to lick me when he was drunk,” Frank whispered. “I thought it was a joke.”
“I saw him chew through a shoe once,” Marlene whispered back.
Sirius cooed, “You gonna let me breed you, Reggie?”
Reg let out the most indignant screech anyone had ever heard. “SIRIUS ORION BLACK.”
“Wait—” James interrupted, jaw dropping as something clicked. “Wait. Wait. You’re always talking about how you love chasing cats. You bark when you sleep. You drool over tennis balls. You get weirdly territorial about your bed. OH MY GOD.”
Remus blinked. “...He's the dog animagus.”
Peter smacked his forehead. “Padfoot. Of fucking course.”
Everyone went dead silent.
Sirius froze, Yap Chip crumbs on his lip, one hand mid-squeeze on Reg’s ass.
“Can’t believe I forgot I’m actually an animagus,” Sirius muttered, laughing awkwardly. “It was supposed to be secret.”
Pandora’s eyes glittered like chaos incarnate. She clapped her hands and screamed with joy. “OH MY GOD. THIS IS SO ROMANTIC. YOU’RE BOTH ANIMAGI.”
Reg, blinking, turned sharply. “Pandora!”
Sirius stared at her too. “Wait. What.”
“Oh!” Pandora beamed, like she’d just remembered the weather. “Did I forget to mention? Regulus is one too.”
SCREEEEEAAAAAAM.
“What the FUCK?” James bellowed. “EVERYONE IS HIDING SECRETS!”
“I knew you were weirdly flexible,” Dorcas yelled at Reg.
“YOU NEVER SAID,” Sirius barked. “WHAT ARE YOU?”
Reg tried to speak. Pandora beat him to it.
“A spotted hyena!” she sang. “So fitting, right? Mean. Loud. Spiteful. Makes horrible noises when it laughs. Looks cute, actually horrifying. Alpha energy. Absolutely chaotic. Kind of a man-eater.”
Regulus shrieked in betrayal.
“YOU TRAITOR! YOU PINK-EYED COCKROACH OF A GIRL—”
Pandora giggled and did a spin. “It’s true, darling. I’ve seen it. Little hyena pup with freckles on his back and a stupid prancy walk and sharp little teeth—he’s adorable.”
“YOU SWORE TO NEVER TELL ANYONE.”
“I lied.”
Sirius was staring.
“...A hyena?” he asked, blinking. “Seriously?”
Reg glared at him. “Yes, and?”
Sirius licked his lips. “That’s so fucking hot.”
“FUCK YOU.”
“Please,” Sirius whispered, pressing his forehead to Reg’s. “Let’s shift together. Let’s frolic. Let’s hunt a rabbit and destroy someone’s flower bed. Let’s—”
“Shut the fuck up!” Regulus screeched.
“Hyenas and dogs can mate, right?” Pandora asked helpfully.
“SHUT UP, PANDORA.”
“WHY DOES THAT MATTER?!” screamed Lily.
“I’m going to faint,” Frank said weakly.
Fabian was on his knees crying from laughter. “He’s a dog. He’s a hyena. This is literally a twisted, feral fairytale romance and I want to die.”
Kettleburn, pale and shaking, sat down in the dirt. “I used to have tenure,” he whispered. “I used to be respected.”
Sirius licked Reg’s cheek again.
Reg tried to slap him.
Missed.
And barked.
By instinct.
Everyone went feral.
“YOU BARKED,” James screeched.
“YOU BARKED BACK,” Marlene screamed.
“WE'RE IN HELL,” Lily cried.
And through it all, Sirius and Regulus lay tangled on the grass, rolling and growling and yipping like the feral, cursed, animagus brothers they were.
Somewhere in the distance, a Yap Chip bag rustled in the wind.
And Hogwarts was never the same again.
It began in a corridor that had no business being chaotic.
The bell had rung ten minutes ago, but the Gryffindors were dragging their feet like usual. Sirius Black was slouched, legs moving but brain clearly somewhere else, probably in the stratosphere. James Potter was beside him, flipping his wand between fingers, muttering some Quidditch play under his breath. Remus was rolling his eyes so hard it was audible. Peter was just trying to keep up.
“I’m telling you,” James said, “if Hooch doesn't change the Chaser lineup, we are not winning against Hufflepuff. And I'm not losing to a team whose mascot is a literal badger.”
“She’s not going to change the lineup because you cried about it in her office,” Remus muttered.
“I didn’t cry,” James snapped. “I got misty. There’s a difference.”
The corridor was buzzing. It always buzzed between lessons, full of students pushing past each other, gossiping, flirting, hexing. But the second Sirius caught a flash of short black curls across the hallway, his spine straightened like someone had run a jolt of magic through him.
Because there was Regulus. Surrounded by the usual entourage of barely-contained violence and couture.
Barty was hanging off his shoulder, dramatically re-enacting a Quidditch dive with his hands while Regulus looked somewhere between amused and seconds away from biting him. Evan Rosier leaned against the wall, arms crossed, face blank, the kind of blank that meant he was actively plotting something illegal. Pandora twirled a dagger around her fingers and Dorcas was chewing pink gum, blowing perfect silent bubbles while making intense eye contact with a passing Ravenclaw girl who instantly tripped.
The Gryffindors and the Slytherins passed each other like two rival gangs in a slow-motion crime film. Usually they ignored each other. Usually.
Until Barty fucking Crouch Jr. paused mid-strut.
He stopped, smiled like a cat who had just seen a cage full of canaries, and pivoted neatly to plant himself directly in Sirius’s path.
“Hey, Black,” he purred, voice a little too sweet. “Lovely weather. And by that I mean, you look like you're about to explode with repressed incestuous yearning.”
Sirius blinked. “What—”
“Oh, don’t play dumb,” Barty drawled, eyes glittering. “You think no one’s noticed? The yearning? The lingering stares? You’re basically writing poetry about his shoulders every time he walks past—”
James choked.
Regulus froze mid-step.
Remus looked like someone had just hit him with a Confundus.
Barty’s grin widened, sharp and wolfish. “You know, if you do take a bath with Reggie, make sure it’s in the prefects’ one. The non-slide surface is important. And you’ll want a safety rail. Wouldn’t want to jackhammer your blood relative on cold tile.”
Sirius turned the colour of a dying star. “I’m not going to jackhammer Regulus!”
Half the hallway stopped moving.
“Please,” Barty said with mock-innocence, “we’re talking about kissing Regulus, not shtupping your sister.”
“I don’t have a sister,” Sirius snapped, flustered and furious.
“Exactly!” Barty beamed. “So you’ve gotta work with what you’ve got. And anyway, if you’re worried about how much of a freak you are, take a trip to Florida. Anything goes there.”
There was a beat of confused silence.
Then Barty clapped his hands together, eyes glittering with manic glee. “Here. I’ll sing a little song about it.”
“Don’t—” Regulus started, but too late.
Barty spread his arms and bellowed, “HELLO LAKELAND!” His voice echoed off the walls. “Y’ALL READY TO ROCK IN THE SUNSHINE STATE?!”
James wheezed.
Remus tried to back into the wall.
Barty stomped forward like he was on stage in front of an audience of ten thousand deranged American Floridians.
“They got rednecks wrestling pythons!” he crowed, stomping in rhythm. “They got drunk girls goin’ wild!”
He grabbed Regulus by the hips and spun him in a circle like he was a ragdoll. “Party with Margaritavillers—AND serial killers—while you watch a gator eat a child!”
“Oh my god,” Lily whispered.
“They proudly lead the nation,” Barty sang, “in public masturbation!”
“BARTY!” Regulus shouted, trying to yank away.
“They’re jerkin’ off all over the place!” Barty yelled.
Pandora was shrieking with laughter, collapsed against Evan who looked weirdly impressed.
“Forget the Key lime pie,” Barty bellowed, “Let’s get a bath salt high—AND munch on a stranger’s fa-a-ace!”
“Is this a real song?” Marlene whispered.
“Because anything goes in Florida!” Barty spun again, pointing dramatically at Sirius. “Come on down and do your worst!”
He grabbed Reg again, forcing him to strut. “Snort a rail off a dolphin—naked and a-golfin’—chances are you won’t be the first!”
“Barty!” Regulus yelped, face flushing as Barty dipped him dramatically and shoved him upright again.
“Doin’ anything, anywhere,” Barty sang, wiggling his eyebrows, “any time in FLA!”
“Please, make it stop,” Peter muttered.
“They got meth labs and Magic Kingdoms,” Barty continued, unfazed, “titty bars and the KKK!”
He stage whispered, “And when shit goes down—you can stand your ground—AND blow your neighbor away!”
Sirius was full-on watching now, frozen, hypnotised, mouth parted.
“Because anything goes in Florida!” Barty roared. “Baby, let the good times roll!”
He grabbed Regulus again—who tried to bolt—and shoved him into a bend. “If there’s a law, you can duck it—if you catch it, you can fuck it!” he shouted.
“IT’S AMERICA’S GLORY HOLE!” Barty yelled, hands in the air.
Dead. Silence.
Half the hallway had stopped.
The other half was screaming, cackling, running, or crying.
Sirius blinked slowly. Then blinked again.
“…That was actually a good song,” he said, almost dazed.
Barty turned, smug. “Wrote it myself.”
James's jaw dropped. “You wrote that?!”
Remus was clutching the wall.
Dorcas had tears streaming down her face from laughing too hard.
Sirius straightened. Something in his eyes shifted. “You know what?” he said, voice suddenly loud. “It does make a good point.”
Barty raised his brows.
“I’m gonna do it,” Sirius said with sudden manic clarity. “I’m gonna french my mother’s youngest son.”
“WHOOP WHOOP!” Barty hollered.
Regulus went still.
Then he screamed.
He spun on his heel and bolted. “WHAT THE FUCK—!”
Sirius chased him.
“REGULUS! COME BACK!” Sirius yelled, sprinting after him full-speed. “YOU MAKE ME FEEL THINGS I SHOULDN’T! I’M GONNA GO FULL REDNECK!”
“GET AWAY FROM ME YOU ABSOLUTE PSYCHO!”
Everyone else erupted.
Lily shrieked, “SIRIUS WHAT THE HELL?”
James doubled over laughing. “HE SAID HE’S GONNA FRENCH HIM—”
Remus just sat down.
Mary Macdonald blinked. “What does frenching even mean—like—kissing or—”
Pandora cackled. “He means full tongue.”
“STOP ENABLING THEM!” Lily yelled.
Gideon and Fabian were doing the wave in the background like it was a football match.
Frank Longbottom just muttered, “Why is it always the Blacks.”
Evan called down the hallway, deadpan: “Regulus, just let him get it out of his system!”
“I’M NOT KISSING THAT FERAL DOG—” Reg screamed from somewhere around the next corner.
Sirius yells, “I’M A GRIM, YOU LITTLE PANSY, GET BACK HERE!”
“THIS IS INCESTUOUS!”
“NOT IF IT’S EMOTIONALLY VALIDATED BY A FLORIDA SONG!”
Barty collapsed to the floor wheezing.
Peter whispered, “Should we… stop them?”
Remus, still on the floor, said, “Absolutely not.”
Somewhere down the hallway, there was a bang, a crash, and someone screamed “MY POTIONS ESSAY!”
Pandora clapped. “Ten outta ten.”
Dorcas hummed. “Should’ve filmed it.”
James wheezed. “My god, I love this school.”
Barty beamed, smug as hell. “Told you. Florida fixes everything.”
It should’ve ended after the Florida song. It should have ended.
But no.
Now, chaos had teeth.
Because Sirius Black had launched into full feral romantic pursuit mode and Regulus Black—his younger brother, his nemesis, his fashion rival, his waking obsession, his everything—was fucking running.
“REGULUS—REGGIE—WAIT, LET’S TALK ABOUT IT!”
“GET AWAY FROM ME!”
Regulus vaulted over a bench.
Sirius followed—vaulted over it like a dog chasing a chew toy made of forbidden desire.
“REG, I’M SERIOUS—!”
“THAT’S LITERALLY YOUR NAME! I KNOW WHO YOU ARE! THAT’S THE PROBLEM!”
Reg slid under a group of fourth years like a rogue bludger. The fourth years screamed. One girl dropped her books. Another climbed the wall.
Sirius growled, skidded, and tried to follow—but Reg was too slippery and quick, darting like an eel dipped in holy water.
“I’M JUST TRYING TO EXPRESS MY TRUTH!” Sirius howled, knocking over a statue.
Regulus spun around and threw a textbook. It hit Sirius in the chest.
“THAT IS NOT TRUTH! THAT IS ANCESTRAL CURSE BEHAVIOUR!”
James Potter was on the floor laughing. “HE’S TRYING TO CLIMB THE WALL—”
Regulus was trying to climb the wall. One foot on a torch bracket, the other on some poor first year’s shoulder.
“I AM YOUR BROTHER,” Reg screamed.
“And you’re so pretty when you run!” Sirius shouted, clawing at Reg’s ankle and getting kicked in the jaw.
Peter screamed. Lily screamed. Dorcas shouted, “SLIPPERIER THAN A GREASED NIFFLER, GO REG, GO!”
“I SAW YOU BENT OVER IN THE FLORIDA DANCE AND I HAD A RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE!” Sirius shouted.
“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”
Sirius cackled, deranged. “I’VE WANTED YOU SINCE WE WERE EIGHT AND YOU WERE ALL LITTLE AND EVIL WITH YOUR LIL KNIFE COLLECTION!”
“YOU SAW MY KNIFE COLLECTION AND GOT A CRUSH?!”
“YOU WERE SHINING IN THE CANDLELIGHT!”
Regulus screamed like a banshee, dropped to the floor, ducked under Sirius, and tried to bite him.
He succeeded.
“OW!” Sirius stumbled. “He bit me! He BIT ME!”
Barty howled with laughter from the sidelines. “I knew it! I knew it!”
Remus gaped. “You knew?”
Barty, smug as hell, twirled like a ballerina. “Of course I knew! Why else would Sirius freak out every time Regulus breathes? Or walk into walls when Reg’s around? Or wail about his ‘shimmering angel of pain’ in his sleep?”
“You what?” James turned.
“Excuse me?” Lily gasped.
“Oh yeah,” Barty grinned. “Sirius writes poetry. ‘The Angel With Blackened Wings and a Knife Under His Pillow.’ Guess who that’s about.”
“SHUT UP, CROUCH!” Sirius bellowed, chasing after Regulus again who had somehow gotten halfway up a suit of armour.
Regulus hissed like a cat.
“I AM NOT YOURS! I’M A HUMAN BEING! YOU’RE A FREAK!”
“I’LL BE YOUR FREAK!” Sirius shouted back, grabbing Reg’s ankle again. “I’LL BE YOUR EVERYTHING!”
Reg kicked him in the face and bolted again, panting like a rabid chihuahua. “YOU’RE MY BIG BROTHER, YOU PERVERT! WE SHARED A WOMB!”
“We didn’t, actually!” Sirius yelled. “We’re two years apart! It was symbolic sharing!”
“I DON’T CARE IF IT’S SYMBOLIC, YOU DILDO-SHAPED CURSE!”
Reg took a sharp left.
Sirius tackled him mid-turn.
They rolled.
Sirius came out on top, pinning Reg by the wrists.
Reg squirmed, hissed, tried to headbutt him.
“STOP BEING SO FAST!” Sirius growled. “And slippery! And perfect!”
Regulus screamed and bit him again.
Sirius yelped and let go. Reg rolled, tried to escape, only for Sirius to tackle him again.
“IF YOU LOVE ME—LET ME BITE YOU!” Reg shrieked.
“I DO LOVE YOU—THAT’S WHY YOU’RE GONNA HAVE TO KISS ME!”
“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU—”
“IT’S THE FLORIDA IN ME!” Sirius bellowed.
“THERE IS NO FLORIDA IN ENGLAND—”
“THEN I’LL MAKE ONE!”
Everyone was screaming.
Peter was hiding behind a tapestry. James was cheering. Lily was threatening to hex everyone. Pandora was live-sketching. Fabian and Gideon were chanting “KISS! KISS! KISS!” while Evan stood frozen, just repeating, “This is not real. This is not my life.”
Mary fainted. Alice caught her.
Dorcas bit into a chocolate frog and said calmly, “They’re soulmates. This is normal.”
Barty leaned into Remus, dreamy-eyed. “They’re so special, don’t you think?”
Remus just stared in horror. “You’re all insane.”
Down the hall, Regulus broke free again, scrambling to his feet, hair wild, tie half undone.
He spun on Sirius, panting, flushed, furious.
“Say it,” he shouted. “Say it out loud, right now. What do you want from me?”
Sirius, wild-eyed and bleeding slightly from his neck, didn’t hesitate.
“I WANNA LICK YOUR SPINE AND RIDE YOUR SOUL INTO THE ASTRAL PLANE!”
Regulus screamed.
Sirius lunged.
Reg ran again.
And the chase resumed.
By now they were on their eleventh lap.
Possibly twelfth. No one could tell anymore. It was just blur and motion and violence and incestuous poetry echoing off the stone.
“REGULUS—REGULUS YOU LIL SLIPPERY FUCK—”
“STOP CHASING ME!”
“NOT UNTIL I’VE GOT MY TONGUE IN YOUR MOUTH AND YOUR ASS IN MY HANDS!”
“I’M GONNA SHOVE YOU OUT A WINDOW—!”
“You always say that,” Sirius panted, running after him again, his hair flying behind him like the cloak of a deranged sex wizard.
Regulus ducked under his legs like a trained gymnast, rolled behind Sirius and popped up in a spin, breathless, flushed, lips parted.
Sirius twitched.
“Oh you little—come here.”
“NO!”
“Why are you so fast?!” Sirius gasped, stumbling mid-sprint. “I’m literally about to pass out, what the fuck, you little woodland creature—”
“Because I value my LIFE,” Reg yelled back, vaulting over a bench and twisting mid-air. “I DON’T WANNA BE KISSED BY MY BROTHER!”
Sirius clutched his chest dramatically, still running. “Okay, rude. And I’m trying to be emotionally vulnerable right now, you gorgeous bastard—”
“I’M GONNA VOMIT!”
“I just—fuck—miss when you were a clingy little shit,” Sirius moaned, chasing him with the limp of a man who was both aroused and dangerously low on stamina. “Remember that? You used to cling to me like a koala—cry when I left the room—called me ‘Siri’ like I was your entire religion—”
“THAT WAS WHEN I WAS FIVE!”
“I want it back!” Sirius wailed. “I want you back! I want you in my arms and maybe my bed and maybe my tongue in your mouth and maybe—just MAYBE—I SHAG YOU STUPID!”
“YOU NEED AN EXORCISM!”
“I need your thighs wrapped around my shoulders!”
Regulus screamed.
Sirius tripped over a Hufflepuff.
Regulus laughed—mocking, victorious, sweat-slicked and panting.
Then sprinted again.
Sirius groaned like he was dying. “Okay. Okay. Okay. Why are you so fucking fast. I'm literally—dying.” He leaned forward mid-run, hands braced on his thighs, wheezing. “I cannot breathe. My lungs are collapsing. You’re so short, why are you built like a greyhound—”
“You’re gonna die horny and I’m gonna bury you upside down,” Regulus shot back, not even winded, darting between a crowd of terrified third years.
Sirius’s eye twitched. He growled, staggered, and picked up speed again. “This ends now.”
James, somewhere in the chaos, shouted, “DO IT FOR FLORIDA!”
Lily screamed, “SIRIUS DON’T YOU DARE—”
Barty was chanting, “GET THE BOY! GET THE BOY!”
And then—
Sirius caught him.
Mid-dodge, Regulus squealed—genuinely panicked—as Sirius lunged, grabbed him by the waist with both arms and lifted him off the ground like a sack of sin.
“LET ME GO—” Reg squirmed, kicking, biting.
“NEVER—” Sirius huffed, tightening his arms. “I’ve got you now, baby brother—my darling slippery whore—”
“I WILL SUE YOU—”
Sirius slammed him—gently but firmly—against the corridor wall, pinning his back flat with the force of unholy obsession. He leaned in, one hand tight around Reg’s waist, the other braced beside his head. Their foreheads almost touched. Both of them were heaving.
Reg looked furious. And perfect. Sirius looked wrecked. And also perfect.
“Don’t,” Regulus breathed, voice trembling. “Don’t do this.”
“I have to,” Sirius whispered.
And then he kissed him.
Full mouth. Full pressure. Full tongue.
Regulus squealed. Actually squealed.
His fists beat at Sirius’s shoulders, but Sirius just moaned into the kiss, melting forward, buckling slightly, the weight of years of pining dragging him down like a collapsing star.
“Oh my—” Lily whispered.
“Oh my GOD,” James said.
“Oh my FLORIDA,” Barty yelled.
Regulus kept squirming—but his squeaks were getting softer, his hits were getting slower, his hips were—
“Oh fuck,” Sirius groaned as Reg melted.
Regulus whined. Whined. His hands fisted Sirius’s shirt, clinging, breath hitching as Sirius groaned again and hitched one of Reg’s thighs up onto his hip.
“Fuck—fuck, that’s it, baby,” Sirius whispered, breath hot and dirty against Reg’s lips. “God, you’re so good. My good little brother. My perfect brat.”
Reg whimpered.
Sirius bucked forward.
Reg squealed.
“OH MY GOD—” Peter screeched.
Lily covered her eyes. “STOP THEM!”
Fabian and Gideon were screaming, rolling on the floor.
Pandora had passed out from the sheer camp.
Dorcas was filming.
Evan looked like he was going to cry.
Mary was praying.
Remus stood still and whispered, “I will never recover from this.”
Sirius moaned, head spinning, body pressing harder. “Oh baby, baby, baby—”
Barty screamed, “AND THAT, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, IS HOW YOU UNLEASH THE FLORIDIANS.”
The hallway erupted.
Students screamed. A portrait fainted. A teacher walked in and walked right back out.
And in the middle of it all—Regulus Black, flushed and trembling, moaned into his brother’s mouth while Sirius cupped his ass with both hands and whispered, “I knew you were mine since the day you stabbed me with a fork.”
The corridor had become a coliseum, echoing with shrieks and moans and laughter—some horrified, some deranged, all thunderstruck. But in the eye of the storm, tangled together against the cold stone wall like magnets too long denied, Sirius Black and Regulus Black were still fucking going.
Sirius wouldn't shut up.
"Mmph—fuck, Reg—fuck, you're unreal, you're perfect, you little shit—ngh—you gonna keep bullying me while I’ve got my tongue down your fucking throat—?"
And Regulus? He was clinging.
One arm looped tight around Sirius’s neck like a vice, the other locked behind his nape, dragging the taller down as if to make sure no inch of space ever dared open up again. His thigh was hooked high, curled snug around Sirius’s hip, pressing them so tightly together it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began.
Sirius groaned—deep, feral, chesty, guttural. Then he purred, like a bastard, all breath and lips and trembling hands skimming down Reg’s sides. Reg made the tiniest squeak, biting his lip, cheeks burning—eyes squeezed shut as if that could block out the entire hallway, block out the dozens of students who were witnessing what should have stayed sealed in a vault of ancestral shame.
That just made Sirius coo like an obsessed lover. “Aw, look at you,” he whispered, voice soaked in syrup and sin. “Don’t wanna see all your adoring fans? My shy little pervert—”
Reg’s eyes snapped open into a venomous glare. “Don’t baby talk me, you feral twat.”
Sirius blinked.
And then yelped when Reg reached up, grabbed a fistful of his hair, and yanked it hard, dragging him back into the kiss like he was trying to bruise both their mouths. When Sirius groaned again—high and breathless, like he’d just come out of a fever dream—Reg laughed, wicked and triumphant.
“Oooh,” James hollered from the sidelines, clutching Remus’s arm. “He’s bullying him again—!”
Sirius looked wrecked. Eyes half-lidded, lips red and swollen, blinking down at Reg with the dazed stupor of a man freshly hit by a truck made of emotions and incestuous horniness. And Regulus—Regulus was grinning like the devil. That smug, slanted, sharp-edged smile that looked exactly like Sirius’s. The resemblance was uncanny—terrifying—hilarious.
The corridor howled.
Dorcas shrieked. Pandora screamed. Marlene dropped her bag and said, “It’s genetic evil. It’s a chromosome of chaos.”
But Sirius—Sirius was starting to puff his chest, getting all smug and cocky, thinking he was somehow in control.
He slid his hands low on Reg’s hips, groping with lazy dominance, whispering shit like, “You’re never getting away from me again,” and “Mine, Reg. Mine forever,” while rocking his hips forward in filthy little pulses that made Reg whimper.
That’s when Reg went full weaponized baby brother.
He blinked up with wide, liquid-grey eyes—that look. The look that had gotten Sirius in trouble since they were kids. That trembling lower lip, the wobble, the desperate whine: “Big brother…”
Sirius crumpled like a war-torn letter.
His knees actually buckled, arms tightening instinctively like he thought Reg was about to fall—like he’d die if Regulus slipped an inch out of reach.
He hauled him up without thinking, picked the smaller boy up in both arms like a prize—like a lifeline—like something holy. Regulus wrapped around him instantly, thighs squeezing Sirius’s hips, arms clinging tight around his neck like he belonged there.
And he grinned.
That mischievous, evil little grin that looked like Sirius’s own smirk dipped in arsenic and set on fire.
James actually fell to his knees, screaming, “NO. THEY HAVE THE SAME SMILE. I’M GOING TO GO BLIND.”
Sirius didn't care. He had Reg wrapped around him now—tight and hot and trembling—and all he could do was stagger back into the wall, groaning, trying not to pass out from how hard he was, cock pressing full and obvious against the cradle of Reg’s inner thigh.
Reg gasped.
Eyes wide, a squeaky little, “Ah—ngh—fuck, is that—”
He shifted slightly—hips rocking down, grinding his weight onto Sirius’s lap, and then froze.
“Holy shit,” he whispered, stunned. “You’re—fucking massive, what the—?”
Sirius made a sound like a man being murdered. “Don’t say that out loud—”
“Oh my god, I’ve never looked before,” Reg said with genuine disbelief. “I mean I assumed, you’re tall and cocky and overcompensating, but—fuck, what the fuck—”
Sirius went crimson, face buried against Reg’s throat, groaning, grinding up harder like he could hide it. “Shut up, shut up, you can’t just—say shit like that, Jesus—”
“Oh, I can,” Reg cooed. “And I will.”
Then softer, teasing, right against his ear: “You wanna use it on me, big brother? Hm? Use that filthy thing on my pretty little cunt?”
Sirius choked. Full body seizure.
The entire hallway screamed.
Remus slammed his head into the wall. Peter fainted. Lily screamed “YOU CAN’T SAY CUNT OUT LOUD!” and tried to throw a book.
Barty Crouch Jr. had tears in his eyes, whispering, “It’s beautiful. It’s art.”
Sirius just whimpered.
He rocked his hips up again, grinding himself tight against Reg’s slick heat, groaning in agony. “You can’t say that—you’ve never said that—you never even looked—how the fuck—”
Reg looked down between them, smirking, then flicked his eyes back up with devilish innocence. “Well. I’m looking now.”
Sirius actually whined, like a dog about to die.
He was red from the neck to the ears, hands gripping Reg’s thighs so tight it looked like he might snap. “Don’t tease. Don’t fucking tease me right now. You don’t know what that does to me—”
“Oh, I do,” Reg purred. “I’ve known since I was fifteen and caught you jerking off to one of my socks.”
“REGULUS—”
The screams hit new heights.
Pandora dropped her quill. Dorcas keeled over. Gideon threw up his hands and shouted, “I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE.”
Reg just cackled. “Payback’s a bitch.”
Sirius moaned again, grinding tighter, biting down on Reg’s neck.
Reg gasped—squealed—and ground back down, dragging their hips together slow and steady.
And then he purred, sugar-sweet and filthy, “You gonna fuck me stupid against this wall, Sirius? Gonna fill me up like a good big brother should?”
Sirius snapped his head up, pupils blown, face destroyed. He growled.
And somewhere in the distance, a teacher screamed and quit their job.
The chaos had become religion.
And the hallway was now a temple of sin.
Sirius was trembling. Still half against the wall, his arms locked around Regulus like he might dissolve if he let go, breath choppy and hot where it ghosted over Reg’s jaw. His hips twitched—stuttered. His cock was a brand between them, rock-hard, soaked from the friction, aching from restraint, and pressed flush against the soft heat of Reg’s cunt through too many goddamn layers.
And Regulus was looking.
Sirius caught it. The way those silver-grey eyes flicked down. First at Sirius’s mouth—kiss-bitten and red—then down his chest, his hips, the thick line straining Sirius’s trousers like a sin made flesh.
Reg made a face. His lips parted, eyebrows furrowing faintly.
Then—slowly, with what felt like unintentional reverence—he shifted in Sirius’s arms, grinding his own hips ever so slightly forward.
“…How the fuck,” Reg whispered. “How the fuck have you been carrying that around.”
Sirius blinked. “Excuse me?”
Reg didn’t even look up. His thighs squeezed tighter around Sirius’s waist, hands still braced to his shoulders, his cheek flush with heat, eyes stuck between confusion and horror and reluctant awe.
“This,” Reg murmured, voice thin and startled. “That. It’s—it’s obscene. How the fuck—no, actually, what the fuck. Is that… Is that normal?”
Sirius made a strangled sound. “No, it’s not fucking normal. I’m a freak, Reg, you know this. You’ve seen me eat glue.”
“That was one time.”
“It was twice and I still think about your face.”
Regulus’ lip twitched. “You’re not serious.”
Sirius huffed a wet laugh against his throat. “I am. I’m always Sirius.”
Regulus stared at him. Then slowly, almost dazedly, his hand slid between them.
Through fabric, still, thank god—but the pressure was molten. Just the ghost of it, soft and testing, like Reg was trying to calculate the weight of it, the threat of it, like he was holding a live wand, unsure if it might explode.
Sirius whimpered. His hips bucked.
“You’ve looked at me?” Reg whispered, distracted. His voice trembled, but his hand was curious. Reverent. Dangerous. “You’ve looked, for years? My—my chest. My cunt. All that shit?”
“I’ve fantasized, Regulus,” Sirius growled, nails biting into Reg’s hips. “I’ve fucking worshipped you. I used to sit outside your bedroom door like a goddamn stray dog, jacking off to the sound of your voice. Your laugh. The way your slippers sounded on the floor. The way your shirt clung to your ribs after training.”
Reg’s breath hitched.
“I’ve memorized how your body moves,” Sirius rasped. “How your hips sway. How your tits used to look, and how you bind now. I don’t care—I love your chest. I want your cunt on my tongue until you’re crying. I’ve dreamed about licking you open, licking up into you while your thighs squeeze around my ears and you’re sobbing my name—”
“Oh—oh fuck—” Reg gasped, face flooding red.
Sirius pressed harder. “You wanna know what I’ve imagined? Your thighs on my shoulders. Your knees by your ears. My cock inside you while I watch your face twist, your mouth fall open, drool on your chin, your pussy fluttering around me like it’s scared and greedy and mine.”
Reg’s thighs jerked.
He made the smallest noise—somewhere between a whimper and a protest. His hand still hadn’t moved. Sirius’s cock throbbed under the heat of it, twitching with each panicked inhale.
“I didn’t even know you had this,” Reg whispered, lips parted.
Sirius groaned. “Of course you didn’t. You never fucking looked.”
“You looked at me.”
“Since I was fourteen. Since I saw you stretching in the training room in those little shorts and my brain fucking broke.”
“That was your awakening?!”
Sirius gasped, nearly sobbing with want. “You were glowing, Reg. Your cunt made me religious.”
Reg stared at him.
Then—slowly—his fingers twitched. Shifted.
He gripped.
“Oh—fuck—” Sirius snarled.
He thrust up, involuntarily, desperate and aching and soaked. His hands flew to Reg’s hips to keep him from falling, but Reg wasn’t going anywhere—just watching, head tilted faintly, staring down at where Sirius throbbed under his palm like a living thing.
“I’ve never had anything this big,” Reg whispered.
Sirius’s eyes snapped open.
He went still.
“What,” he growled.
Reg blinked. “…I said I’ve never—”
“I heard you,” Sirius bit, voice tight. “What do you mean, you’ve never had—what the fuck have you had?!”
Regulus blinked again. Then he laughed.
“Oh my god,” he gasped, clutching Sirius tighter. “You’re jealous.”
Sirius’s mouth curled in a snarl. “Who the fuck—”
Reg slapped a hand over his mouth. “No one! No one, you psychotic beast! I meant toys, you absolute lunatic!”
Sirius groaned into his hand.
Then dropped his head back and moaned, guttural and long, brain melting from the image.
Reg giggled.
“Holy shit,” Sirius gasped. “I didn’t know you used toys. What the—fuck, Reg, what kind? What do you do with them—?”
Reg’s grin turned evil.
He leaned in, slow and dangerous, lips brushing Sirius’s ear. “You really wanna know?”
“YES.”
Reg whispered.
And Sirius died.
His mouth dropped open, body twitching, cock leaking through his pants like it was crying. Regulus was perched in his arms like a prince of perversion, whispering filthy tales of curling up on his side with the lights off, of teasing himself open in the bath with lubed fingers, of pressing the tip of a dildo inside and rocking gently while biting a pillow.
Sirius’s eyes rolled back.
“You touch yourself like that?” he rasped. “Like you’re scared of breaking?”
“I’m small, Sirius,” Reg whispered, grinning. “I have to go slow. Sometimes it’s too much. But sometimes…”
He reached down again.
Cupped him.
And squeezed.
“…Sometimes I wish I could take more.”
Sirius howled.
He shoved Reg against the wall again, growling, rubbing up against him like a hound in heat.
“I’ll make you take more,” he snarled. “I’ll train your greedy little cunt. Stretch it so slow, so deep, you’ll beg me not to stop—”
The hallway between fourth and fifth floor Transfiguration corridors was a warzone of shoulders, parchment spills, and hormonal chaos. Gryffindors trailed in loose formation like a half-baked battalion: Sirius leading with that crooked smirk that dared the world to punch him, James close behind clutching a stolen apple, and Remus mid-rant about McGonagall’s latest essay prompt while Peter nodded with glazed panic.
“Look, all I’m saying,” Remus was muttering, “is if I have to write one more metaphor comparing animagus transformations to bloody Victorian gender politics, I’m staging a walkout.”
“You’ve already written yours, haven’t you,” James accused, taking a huge bite of the apple and talking around it, “You’ve written it, footnoted it, cross-referenced it, and judged the rest of us for not even opening the book.”
“I’m not denying that,” Remus said flatly.
They rounded the corner—too loud, too chaotic, too Gryffindor—and nearly collided with the other pack of wolves stalking the hallway.
Slytherins.
They didn’t snarl, didn’t growl—no. They did what Slytherins did best. They stared.
Regulus Black stood at the center of the group like a bitchy, gothic planet orbited by a constellation of danger: Barty Crouch Jr., bouncing lightly on his heels with predator eyes; Evan Rosier leaning one shoulder against the wall with the elegance of a murderer on holiday; Pandora twirling her wand like she’d stab someone with it if she was bored enough; Dorcas Meadowes, arms crossed, mouth curled like she’d just smelt blood in the water.
There was a ripple of silent eye contact.
Sirius stiffened. “Fuck’s sake,” he muttered, too low for anyone but James and Remus to catch.
Regulus didn’t even glance up from the book he was flicking through—something ancient, probably in Latin, because of course he would. His hair was a little damp, his uniform shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his neck glinting with a silver chain that probably cost more than James’s broomstick. He looked unfairly good. He looked too good.
And Barty, the little bastard, noticed the micro-expression that flashed across Sirius’s face.
“Oh,” Barty breathed, aloud, delighted. “Oh, oh, hang on—wait a second.”
He started grinning.
That grin should’ve been illegal. It was the grin of someone who’d just found a weapon on the ground mid-duel.
Barty peeled himself away from Regulus’s side and slid across the space between the groups like a knife through butter.
“Well if it isn’t big brother,” he purred, sauntering up to Sirius. “Or should I say… big bother?” He beamed. “Got a little problem, don’t you, Pads?”
Sirius scowled. “What the fuck are you on about, Crouch?”
But it was too late. Barty had momentum.
“Oh no no no,” Barty sing-songed, circling Sirius like a vulture in Doc Martens. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m just trying to have a little chat. A little heart-to-heart, perhaps?”
Sirius blinked. “What the fuck did you just say?”
“I’m just wondering,” Barty continued sweetly, “how long you’ve been panting after your baby brother, huh? And how many times you’ve wanked yourself cross-eyed thinking about him wearing your old t-shirts with no pants underneath?”
Silence.
The hallway froze. Every Gryffindor. Every Slytherin. A random third year dropped her books and didn’t even notice.
Sirius’s mouth opened. Closed. His ears turned crimson. His face blazed.
“YOU LITTLE—WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU ON—”
“Oh come on, Sirius,” Barty crooned, hands on his hips, twirling on his heel. “You thought no one noticed the way you look at him like you’re about to devour him? The way you glare at anyone who gets too close to him, the way you lose your mind when he’s upset, the way you hover when he’s changing after Quidditch—”
“BARTY,” Regulus hissed from the other end of the hall, face going bone white.
“No, no, don’t interrupt me, love,” Barty cooed at him before turning back to Sirius. “Tell me, was it when Reg was thirteen and started stealing your jumpers, or was it before that? Was it the time he asked you if your cock was heavy and you nearly tripped over a chair?”
Everyone screamed.
“HE WHAT?!” Lily shrieked, eyes bugging.
“REGULUS,” Marlene barked, shoving through the crowd.
“Wait—wait wait—what the fuck is happening—” James was wheezing.
Sirius was full-body red now, and sputtering. “YOU—YOU’RE MAKING SHIT UP—THAT NEVER—”
“Oh, I know it happened,” Barty cut in smugly. “Because you told me. Crying. While drunk. In the Astronomy Tower. After Reg kissed a girl at Slughorn’s party and you looked like someone killed your cat.”
“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN HE KISSED A GIRL—” Pandora screeched.
“WHY WERE YOU CRYING IN ASTRONOMY TOWER—” James thundered.
“YOU—TOLD—BARTY CROUCH—BEFORE ME?” Peter yelled, betrayed.
Regulus was visibly dying. Not metaphorically. Like, he was legit trying to melt through the floor. His book was clutched like a shield over his face. “I HATE EVERYONE,” he shouted from behind it.
Sirius flung his hands up. “FINE. YES. FINE. I’m obsessed with my brother, okay?! Are you all happy?!”
Silence.
Then—
“WHAT—”
“OH MY GOD—”
“YOU’RE MENTAL—”
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN OBSESSED—WHAT LEVEL OF OBSESSION ARE WE TALKING ABOUT—”
Sirius didn’t stop. The dam had burst.
“It’s not like I wanted it to happen!” he shouted, grabbing fistfuls of his hair. “It started innocent, okay? I was just protective. He was a tiny goblin creature who didn’t talk to anyone. And then he—he—blossomed! And then he came out as trans and stole my fucking boxers and walked around the house in my shirts and—AND THEN—”
“Please stop talking,” Regulus was begging.
“—And then he was jealous of my dick so I let him pretend it was his!”
Silence.
“What.” Fabian said, brokenly.
“I stood behind him while he used the loo,” Sirius ranted, “and held it there, between his legs, so he could feel like he had one! And I thought that would be it, but NO! NO! I KEPT THINKING ABOUT IT! ALL THE FUCKING TIME!”
“I’M GONNA KILL MYSELF,” Regulus bellowed.
“YOU WHAT—” screamed Frank.
“I CAN’T BREATHE,” James was on the floor.
“Wait wait wait wait wait—” Gideon was gasping, “—you held your dick for him while he pretended it was his?!”
“YES,” Sirius yelled, “AND I LIKED IT, OKAY?! I THOUGHT IT WAS CUTE, I THOUGHT HE WAS CUTE, AND THEN IT STOPPED BEING CUTE AND STARTED BEING FERAL, AND I STARTED STEALING HIS PANTIES AND LISTENING TO HIM GET OFF AND—”
Regulus launched his book across the hallway. It hit Sirius square in the head.
“YOU ACTUAL MENACE TO SOCIETY!”
Pandora was shrieking with laughter. Barty had collapsed against the wall wheezing. Marlene was punching Remus in the arm trying to steady herself. Alice was crying. Peter was filming.
“DELETE THAT,” Regulus screamed at him.
“Never,” Peter whispered reverently.
James, red-faced, turned to Sirius. “Mate. Mate. You’re telling me… you’re sexually obsessed with the baby sibling you used to stuff into kitchen cabinets?”
“YES,” Sirius yelled. “AND I’M NOT PROUD!”
“I’m proud,” Barty said, smug as sin. “That’s my dog.”
“FUCK YOU, BARTY,” Sirius and Regulus screamed at the same time.
From down the corridor, McGonagall peeked out of her classroom, took one look at the chaos, and calmly shut the door again.
The hallway was a battlefield. And at its center: Sirius Black, flopped on the floor like a Shakespearean widow mid-tragedy, fists buried in his hair, face flushed red like a popped vein. He was ranting.
Not muttering. Not mumbling. Ranting.
Full volume. Full commitment. Like the spiral was his religion and this was his sermon.
“I CAN’T HELP IT, HE’S JUST—HE’S SO FUCKING PRETTY,” Sirius wailed, legs kicked out, boot thudding against Remus’s shin. “His little fucking face, the way his eyes go sharp when he’s pissed, the way his mouth pouts when he’s confused, the fucking waist on him—have you seen his waist? That’s not normal!”
“Oh my god,” Lily gasped, face half-covered with her hand. “Oh my god—”
“AND HIS ASS,” Sirius bellowed, gesturing wildly like he was calling upon divine intervention. “DON’T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THAT—like, like—WHAM! That shit could kill a man! And his chest—before he started binding, it was all soft and perfect and warm, and then after, he started using my old jumpers to compress and now I’ve got a fucking kink about it and I don’t even care—”
“I’M GOING TO RIP OUT MY SPINE,” Regulus screeched from across the corridor.
The Slytherin had also collapsed. Except while Sirius was having a romantic meltdown, Regulus was having a nuclear-level personal privacy breach. He was curled in a fetal ball near the opposite wall, face buried in his arms, howling like a cursed banshee.
“THIS WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO BE PUBLIC INFORMATION,” Regulus screamed. “I WAS CERTAIN I’D HAVE TO BE CRUCIO’D TO TELL SOMEONE THAT.”
Sirius didn’t stop.
“AND THE NOISES!” he sobbed. “The little sounds he makes when he sleeps! Or when he laughs! Or when he’s annoyed and does that little ‘tsk’ thing—FUCK—”
Regulus launched himself off the floor like a catapult.
Everyone shrieked.
He lunged. He bit James’s leg in passing.
“FUCKING HELL, GET HIM OFF—” James screamed, kicking wildly.
“DO NOT TOUCH ME,” Regulus snarled, teeth bared, hair wild, pure primal chaos.
“HE’S BITING PEOPLE,” Peter yelled.
“He’s valid,” Pandora said helpfully, ducking as Regulus went feral on Fabian.
But it only made Sirius worse.
“OH MERLIN, THAT!” Sirius shouted, starry-eyed. “HE BITES! HE’S SO BITEY, IT’S HOT—he bit me once when we were younger and I came in my fucking trousers."
“SIRIUS ORION BLACK!” Remus screamed.
“HE WHAT?!” cried Gideon, currently shielding his face with his Transfiguration folder.
Regulus was back on the floor, thrashing. “SOMEONE AVADA ME, I’M BEGGING—”
“NO ONE’S AVADA-ING ANYONE IN MY HALLWAY,” came the faint, horrified voice of Professor Sprout from far down the corridor. No one heard her. The apocalypse was here.
“I REMEMBER IT ALL,” Sirius moaned, clutching his heart. “THE FIRST TIME HE USED THE LOO WHILE I HELPED, HE HELD IT BETWEEN HIS LEGS AND MADE THIS LITTLE ‘MNH’ SOUND AND I SAW GOD.”
“SHUT UP!” Regulus screamed, throwing a shoe across the hall. It missed and hit Marlene, who immediately turned and high-fived him.
“And the worst part is,” Sirius kept going, now flailing dramatically, “there were so many times, so many little things—like like like the time I sat him in my lap—”
“NOOOOOO!” Regulus howled.
“—and I let him pretend it was his, and he didn’t even look at me! Just held it like it belonged to him and moaned a little and just—fuck. I had to bite my tongue so I wouldn’t blow a load—”
Pandora fainted. Legitimately hit the floor like a sack of potatoes.
Evan caught her. “Well, that’s the end of her.”
“I can’t be alive for this,” Lily muttered. “I refuse. I rebuke this plane of existence.”
“THAT WAS A PRIVATE MOMENT,” Regulus shouted, spitting like a rabid fox. “I HATE YOU!”
“No, you don’t!” Sirius wailed. “You giggled! I remember it. You did this little thing where you rocked your hips and said ‘it’s mine now’—”
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!” Regulus screamed so loud the walls trembled.
“And then that one time—OH GOD—the day I caught you trying on my leather pants—”
“DO NOT FINISH THAT SENTENCE,” Regulus gasped, panic-flushed.
“—and you had one leg in, no shirt, and you looked at me like I was the intruder and said ‘do you like this on me?’ and I nearly DIED.”
“HE’S HAVING A PSYCHOTIC EPISODE,” Dorcas shouted.
“I’m documenting it,” Peter said, holding up his wand like a camera.
“AND THE TIME YOU SNIFFED ONE OF MY BOXERS—” Sirius shouted.
“I HATE YOU!” Regulus was shrieking. “I HOPE YOU DIE!”
“—and said, ‘I want this smell forever,’ and I didn’t even say anything ‘cause I wanted to frame that memory in my soul—”
“CAN I OBLIVIATE MYSELF?” James was yelling. “IS THAT A THING? REMUS, CAN YOU?”
“SIRIUS,” Remus barked, trying to grab him, “I AM BEGGING YOU TO STOP.”
“I CAN’T!” Sirius sobbed, kicking. “HE’S JUST—HE’S EVERYTHING! HIS BODY, HIS VOICE, HIS BITING, THE WAY HE SCREAMS—EVERYTHING!”
There was a beat of silence. Just one.
And then Barty—casually, joyfully—clapped.
“Well,” he said, “I think we’ve all learned something today.”
Regulus was on the floor, wheezing, hair stuck to his face with sweat, looking like he’d just been exorcised. His tie had been ripped off. His voice was shredded. He was vibrating with rage and humiliation.
“I’m going to kill you in your sleep,” he croaked to Sirius.
Sirius, panting, bright red, head back against the wall, gave a dreamy little smile. “Worth it.”
Warning: contains Sirius/Regulus, Blackcest, incest, suggestive sexual humour
Don’t like, don’t read — it’s tagged for a reason, so curate your own dash and scroll on.
The rebuilt wizarding world was neon-stained and dust-streaked, hungover on peace and not sure what to do with itself. The war was over, finally, and London was teeming again—new buildings growing like weeds through the cracks of what had once been ash. Even Knockturn Alley had a fucking smoothie bar now.
So of course, James Potter decided the best way to celebrate Sirius Black's thirty-seventh birthday—and surviving Voldemort again—was to get blackout drunk and pelt galleons at a brand-new strip club called VELVET. Tasteful name. Neon signage. Three floors, underground. Champagne menus longer than the Prophet’s obituary columns. Sirius didn’t even pretend to argue.
Remus had tried. He really did.
“Don’t you want to go somewhere quieter?” he’d asked as they stepped into the plush red lift, already pulsing with distant bass. “Something a bit more… I don’t know, not riddled with smoke and glitter?”
“No,” Sirius replied flatly. “I want ass. And glitter. Possibly glitter on the ass.”
Peter choked on his first shot before they'd even reached the main floor.
The club was decadent.
A low ceiling glimmered with enchanted stars, champagne mist poured from bottles like fog, the lights were red and purple and sensual, dancers twirled like spells on stage and from the ceiling, music slithered through the room like it had a body of its own. Every single patron looked like they were either a) too rich, b) too high, or c) both. Sirius immediately fit in like he’d been born on a velvet couch.
They got a VIP booth. Obviously.
James ordered a drink called “Liquid Panty Remover” for everyone. Remus ordered a neat Firewhisky and looked like he regretted all his life choices. Peter tried to start a conversation about the state of the Ministry's magical infrastructure post-war and was immediately ignored.
Sirius? Sirius was having the time of his fucking life.
He was leaned back, legs spread, shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, cigar hanging from his fingers, laughing so hard he was wheezing at something James said about the time they thought McGonagall had a tail kink. There were already three lipstick kisses on his collarbone. And then—
The music dropped.
The lights shifted.
And from the ceiling, like the second coming of Aphrodite herself, she descended.
Not the stage. Not the pole. No. This dancer came down on aerial silks, unfurling like sin and silk and gravity was nothing but a mild suggestion. Her body twisted through the air—tight thighs, a flat stomach, long legs drawn into perfect lines of tension and curve and motion. Her outfit was barely there—shimmering sheer fabric, thigh straps, chest framed in lace. She flipped. She bent backward. She split—one leg wrapped in silk, the other stretching downward, drawn into a split as she dropped just above their table.
Sirius choked on his drink.
She was upside down, suspended by one ankle, spinning slow and controlled, curls falling like ink toward the booth. Her hand reached down in the direction of the stunned men, other leg tugged wide in a perfect suspended split, her hips tilting in a teasing sway. Her lips curled in a coquette’s smirk.
Then she flipped upward, silks unfurling as she vanished into the rafters.
Sirius leaned forward, entranced, eyes shining with drunk reverence.
“I want that one,” he whispered.
James barked a laugh. “You sure? The one who looks like she’ll stab you during sex?”
“Exactly,” Sirius breathed.
Remus downed his drink.
She came down again in a slow spiral, wrapped in the silks like a present, unwrapping herself with every twist. She arched. She posed. She smirked. The entire club was watching, but Sirius swore she danced just for him.
When she finally landed on the floor, she rolled her neck like a cat stretching, hips swaying as she moved to collect the silk, face turned away, glitter-dusted arms brushing hair back. She walked off to the side, graceful as anything, grabbing a towel and a glass of water from a tray and heading toward the dressing rooms.
Sirius was already standing. “I'm going over there.”
Peter blinked. “To her?”
“Yes.”
“She could kill you.”
“I’ll die smiling.”
They followed. All of them.
The backstage hall smelled like cheap perfume and secrets.
They caught her halfway down the corridor, mid-sip of water, towel slung over her shoulder. Her back was still to them—bare, toned, freckled. Curly black hair spilled in a half-up ponytail. She was petite, toned, graceful. Confident.
Sirius sauntered up like a fucking peacock.
“Hey, darling,” he purred, voice all charm and smoke. “You doing private rooms tonight?”
The girl stilled.
Didn’t turn. Didn’t speak. Just froze.
Sirius tilted his head, teasing. “Oh come on. You can’t drop from the sky like a sex angel and expect me not to come chasing. What’s your name?”
She turned.
Slowly.
Face stiff. Jaw clenched. Lips curled in something too sharp to be a smile.
Sirius's flirtation stuttered mid-sentence. He blinked.
That face.
Those grey eyes.
Those cheekbones.
The girl stared at him like he was a ghost.
And then, in a flat, unimpressed voice, she said, “Sirius.”
James started coughing.
Peter dropped his drink.
Remus went still, eyes snapping wide.
Sirius?
Sirius stared.
Then laughed.
“Right,” he said, almost a bark. “Funny. You—you look like my little brother. Haven’t seen him in years. Real tragic story, actually, ran off during the war. Good joke though.”
The girl didn’t laugh.
She just stared.
And Sirius... slowly stopped smiling.
“You’re…?”
Regulus nodded. “Yes.”
Sirius screamed.
Like, full-on screamed.
“WHAT THE FUCK?”
Regulus winced. “Don’t yell.”
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE—YOU’RE—REGULUS?!”
James tried to drag Sirius back. “Pads—mate—Sirius, breathe—”
“YOU’RE DEAD!”
“I’m clearly not.”
“You’re a GIRL?!”
Regulus raised an unimpressed brow. “Yes.”
“Since WHEN?!”
“Since always.”
Peter was crouched in the corner, hyperventilating.
Remus rubbed a hand down his face. “I need another drink.”
Regulus gave the most tired sigh in human history, then turned to Sirius. “Do you really want to know?”
“I—YES?!”
Without a word, Regulus grabbed his wrist, dragged his hand up, and planted it on her chest.
Sirius wheezed.
Froze.
Squeezed.
His knees buckled.
James caught him as he collapsed backwards, eyes glazed over, mumbling “oh my god they’re real” on repeat like a broken record.
Regulus looked exhausted.
And mildly smug.
“Oh my God,” Peter gasped. “You—you don’t have—”
“No,” Regulus cut in. “No dick.”
James's soul left his body.
Remus choked on his own tongue.
Sirius was still catatonic.
The hallway exploded into chaos.
James was screaming.
Peter was cackling.
Remus was muttering Latin in a panic.
And Sirius? Sirius was just kneeling there, face red, hand still halfway raised in reverent shock.
“You’re—beautiful,” he breathed.
Regulus blinked. “...What?”
“I mean,” Sirius stammered. “You were always a pretty little prick but now you’re—fuck—I—are you doing privates or not?!”
“Jesus CHRIST,” Remus groaned.
Regulus just laughed.
It was soft. Feminine. Gorgeous.
And deeply, deeply smug.
“I don’t do siblings,” she purred, tossing a wink over her shoulder. “But I’ll take the tip.”
And with that, she sauntered off, towel swinging from her hips, curls bouncing, heels clicking, the faint sound of Sirius still screaming behind her echoing all the way down the hallway.
She vanished behind the beaded curtain like a siren slipping into the sea, leaving behind only perfume and devastation.
Sirius shot up.
“Go—go after her!” he barked, nearly tripping over a velvet stool. “Move! We can’t just—Regulus! REGULUS!!”
“She said no siblings,” Remus muttered, following anyway.
They chased her—through hallways washed in pink light, past dancers lounging in robes, past a bouncer who gave them a long-suffering look and waved them through. The dressing room door was half-open, the name plaque on it reading “Ruby” in a delicate, looping font.
Sirius kicked it open dramatically.
“REG— oh.”
She was halfway out of her top.
Regulus—no, Ruby, now—stood with her back to them, unbothered, arms overhead as she shimmied out of the glittery mesh. Her pale back was littered in tiny freckles, muscles graceful and tight, hips slim. She was already down to sheer lingerie and garter straps, the kind of outfit that made grown men weep. She didn’t flinch at their presence.
She groaned.
“Are you fucking serious,” she muttered, not turning. “This is a dressing room. As in, I am dressing.”
James spun around and stared at a clothes rack. “I’m not looking. I’m not looking.”
Peter just flatlined.
Remus sighed and shut the door behind them. “Sorry. Sirius insisted.”
“I really did,” Sirius confirmed, still staring like a man possessed. “Oh my God.”
Regulus turned.
The bra was off. She was topless.
Sirius forgot how to breathe.
“Oh my fucking—” James turned again, now facing a wall. “Can you put something on?!”
Regulus—smirking now—reached for a silk robe and shrugged it on, loose and lazy, boobs still very much visible beneath the thin fabric. Then she sat at her mirror, started removing her lashes like they were weapons she was sheathing.
Remus cleared his throat. “So... what happened? Where have you been all these years?”
Ruby arched a brow. “Which part? The part where I ran away? The part where I transitioned? The part where I got my degree while working nights at dive clubs? Or the part where I’m now legally female with tits and a uterus?”
Peter made a high-pitched wheeze.
James blinked. “You’re... biologically—?”
“Female,” Ruby confirmed. “Hormones. Potions. Magical correction. I menstruate, I ovulate, I can get pregnant, and give birth. All the bells and whistles.” She smirked. “Is that what you needed to know, James?”
“NOPE!” James turned even harder into the wall.
Sirius, however, had perked up like a predator.
His grin curled. His eyes gleamed.
“You can get pregnant?” he asked, voice low, delighted, a little too thrilled.
Ruby raised a brow. “Yes.”
Sirius grinned wider, eyes already spinning with plotting. “That’s hot.”
“Oh for fuck's sake,” Remus groaned.
Peter looked traumatised.
Ruby just rolled her eyes and peeled off her lashes. “You’re disgusting.”
“And enchanted,” Sirius beamed.
James, muffled into the wall, asked, “Do you go by Regulus here?”
Ruby shook her head. “Only backstage. I go by Ruby—obviously. Regulus is dead. Has been for years. It’s safer that way. I ran from the war. I didn’t want to be in it. Not as I was. So I disappeared, transitioned, got my paperwork changed in France, finished school in secret, and built a new life. This is my job. I needed the money, but it turns out I actually like it. I like performing. I like being wanted. And I’m good at it.”
Sirius was nodding slowly, still grinning like he’d been handed the keys to a new obsession.
“Are you single?” he asked, leaning on her vanity like a man asking a goddess to marry him.
She paused.
“...Yes.”
Sirius cheered.
“OH MY GOD,” he shouted. “YES. YES. I WIN. THANK YOU. I AM THE CHOSEN ONE—”
“You’re my brother,” Ruby cut in, deadpan, brushing out her curls.
Sirius blinked. “Only technically. Not emotionally. I mean—I barely knew you. I ran away when you were, like, newborn. You were a squishy little mophead in a pram. We never had a bond. You were just a name in the papers. ‘Youngest Black heir goes missing,’ and I was like damn, rip to him.”
“You absolute bastard,” Ruby muttered.
Sirius shrugged. “Now you’re hot and I’m struggling with some feelings.”
Ruby gave him a look. “You’re disgusting.”
“You said that already.”
“And I meant it.”
Peter, still crouched in the corner, suddenly piped up, “Wait… how old are you now?”
“Twenty-two,” she replied.
“Fucking hell,” James muttered. “That’s a fifteen-year age gap.”
“That explains why we never really knew you,” Remus added. “You were always a shadow. A name. You were a baby when we left Hogwarts.”
“Exactly,” Sirius grinned. “Which means we’re basically strangers. Strangers who vaguely share a last name.”
“We share a mother,” Ruby said flatly.
“She’s a cunt,” Sirius replied cheerfully.
Ruby blinked. “...Okay, fair.”
They all laughed.
Even Ruby.
She slipped off her heels, tucked her hair into a silk bonnet, and started taking off her makeup. But something in her posture relaxed. She wasn't flinching anymore. Her shoulders dropped. Her gaze softened.
Remus leaned against the wall, watching her quietly. “Why didn’t you ever reach out?”
She hesitated.
“I didn’t think you’d want me.”
There was a silence.
Then Sirius, slowly and softly, walked up behind her and pressed his hand to the back of her head, curling his fingers into her curls like he was memorising her all over again.
“I didn’t even know you,” he said. “But I want you now.”
Ruby blinked.
“That’s still gross.”
“I mean as a person, bitch,” Sirius snapped, yanking a curl.
She laughed.
He laughed.
And then he added, “Also romantically, if you’re into that sort of thing. And if not, I’ll just jerk off in the shower thinking about you. Either way, I’m good.”
James screamed into the coat rack.
Remus knocked over a lamp.
Peter almost passed out.
And Ruby—Regulus—just smirked into her mirror, eyes glittering, lips curling, the reflection of her idiot brother behind her.
She pulled her thigh-highs off with a grunt, tossing them onto a pile of glittering costume chaos, and reached for a pair of worn trainers from under the vanity.
James watched like she was some kind of cryptid in the wild. “So… what’re you doing now? Going home?”
“Yeah.” Ruby tugged on her sneakers. “Shift’s over. I’ve got a cat to feed and a heat pad with my name on it.”
“You live close?” Remus asked, trying to sound casual.
She snorted. “I rent a flat in Lower Finchley. It’s not a dump or anything—two bedrooms, decent plumbing, neighbours only occasionally yell through the walls. You know. Average.”
Sirius made a noise like someone just insulted his bloodline.
“Lower Finchley?!” he choked. “Absolutely not. That’s—no. No. You? You, my gorgeous aerialist goddess of sex and silk, in a budget flat?! I rebuke it.”
Ruby raised a brow, unimpressed. “You wanna pay my rent then?”
Sirius grinned.
“I’ll do you one better.”
Ruby crossed her arms. “Oh God. Here it comes.”
Sirius stepped forward, puffed up, smirking like the bastard peacock he was, and said with full dramatic flair, “I live in a penthouse.”
Peter choked again. “Of course you do.”
“I’m serious,” Sirius said, grinning at his own pun. “Top floor, enchanted view of the river, two fireplaces, one rooftop garden, three bathrooms, and a walk-in closet that could house a small country.”
Ruby narrowed her eyes. “And how exactly did you afford all that?”
He beamed. “I’m a curse-breaker for Gringotts now. International contracts. High risk, high reward. Extremely dangerous, extremely sexy.”
“You almost died in Sweden,” Remus added.
“Twice!” Peter chimed in.
“Several times,” Sirius agreed proudly. “But it pays stupidly well, and also I’m hot, so I negotiated a deal no one else could.”
Ruby gave him a long look, unimpressed. “So you’re a rich idiot who nearly dies every other Tuesday and now wants to… what? Be my sugar daddy?”
Sirius leaned real close, lips curled in a filthy little smirk. “Exactly.”
She blinked.
“Look,” Sirius said, holding up his hands. “I’m not saying stop stripping. You clearly love it. You’re brilliant at it. You could dropkick me from fifteen feet in the air and I’d still pay for a private show. But I’m just saying… if you were with me, you wouldn’t have to pay for your needs anymore. Rent? Paid. Food? Paid. Period potions, flat upgrades, sexy boots, designer makeup, concerts, new furniture, spa days? Paid. All your money would be just for you. You wouldn’t need it. Just use it for glitter and chaos and that ridiculous cat you mentioned.”
Ruby stared at him.
“I’m not opposed,” she said finally, “because free money is free money—”
“YES!” Sirius cheered.
“—but,” she cut in, holding up a finger, “what’s the catch?”
Sirius wiggled his brows, voice dropping an octave. “The catch is you gotta date me.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Live with me eventually,” he added.
Her glare sharpened.
“Marry me,” he added with a grin.
She picked up a heel and hurled it at his face.
He yelped, ducked, and wheezed dramatically. “RUDE!”
The other shoe followed. “You lunatic!” she shouted.
“I’m romantic!” he whined, scrambling behind Peter for cover. “You’re twenty-two! You’re hot! You’re single! You can have my babies! It’s my birthday, you evil vixen—gift yourself to me!”
“You want me to just pop out your demon spawn like some kind of glittering cursed incubator?!”
Sirius poked his head out from behind Peter, eyes wide and hopeful. “Would you?”
“NO!”
Remus sighed and poured himself another drink from her vanity. “They’re gonna fuck by next week.”
“By tonight,” Peter muttered.
James wasn’t even pretending to be shocked anymore. “Sirius, please stop asking your sister to get pregnant on your birthday.”
“She’s technically my sister,” Sirius argued, ducking another thrown accessory. “We’ve got no emotional bond! That womb is free real estate!”
“FUCK OFF!” Ruby shouted, now throwing an entire costume hanger.
Sirius caught it dramatically, then winked. “You’re so cute when you’re violent.”
Warning: contains Sirius/Regulus, Blackcest, incest implications, suggestive sexual humour
Don’t like, don’t read — it’s tagged for a reason, so curate your own dash and scroll on.
Sirius Black was not what you’d call “employed” in the traditional sense. The garage let him show up when he felt like it, mostly because the manager thought he was hot and the older women in town mysteriously needed their tires checked every time he was working. So, when he woke up at 10:07 AM on a Wednesday, scratched his stomach, tugged a hoodie over his boxers, and yelled down the hall, “Reg, if you nicked my socks again I swear to God—” it wasn’t technically him being late. He was just... independently scheduled.
Their parents were gone. Disappeared like smoke—either on an eternal business trip or rotting in some foreign grave, neither of them cared enough to find out. The big, echoing house had once been rigid and quiet and full of antique furniture. Now it was all pizza boxes, tangled laundry, Sirius’s helmet dumped on the banister, and Regulus's silky robes replaced with stolen college hoodies that hung off one shoulder. Just the two of them. Barely grown, not quite whole, but building a world anyway.
Sirius tugged his boots on by the front door and shouted out again, “You better have done the washing like I asked! I need that oil-stained shirt if I’m gonna look hot and competent today!”
“Fuck you!” came the melodic, bratty voice from somewhere upstairs. “Do your own damn laundry!”
Sirius grinned like a wolf. He liked her mouth. Always had.
He jumped onto his motorbike, the one he'd built up himself, metal and muscle and pride. Revved the engine, made sure it was obnoxiously loud just in case Regulus was still in bed. As he shot off down the street, he didn’t even bother looking in the mirror. She’d be watching from the window. She always was.
Ten minutes later, he was at the intersection just past the butcher’s shop, waiting for the world’s slowest red light to change, when his phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket like any cocky bastard would, thumb hovering lazily over the screen.
New message from Regulus 🖤
That alone was weird. She never messaged him in the morning. She barely said “good morning,” unless it was sarcastic and paired with a yawn and middle finger. He blinked.
There was a photo.
There was a photo.
And there was... skin.
Sirius froze. No cars behind him, no cars in front. The whole damn universe held its breath with him.
“Jesus fucking Christ—”
His voice cracked. Cracked. He wheezed. He fumbled. He dropped the phone and smacked his head on the mirror trying to pick it up again.
“Fucking hell—fuck me sideways—”
He stared at the image again, because of course he did. Regulus. Lying on her stomach in his bed, wearing one of his shirts, only the shirt, the hem riding up her thighs, arse peeking out, hair a mess, smirking at the camera like she knew exactly what she was doing. She looked smug. She looked smug and filthy.
And underneath it, the message:
“You like what you see, baby? Can’t wait for you to wreck me later 😘”
Sirius screamed.
Like, audibly. Hands flying off the handles, knees knocking against the bike, he full-body shook. Then bolted. Red light be damned, he peeled around the corner like a man possessed, heart jackhammering, cock already twitching uncomfortably in his jeans, and brain not even pretending to be rational.
“Why the fuck didn’t she tell me sooner?” he yelled to the wind, slapping his palm against the handlebars. “Why’d she wait nineteen fucking years to drive me clinically insane?!”
By the time he skidded into the driveway and clumsily dismounted, the engine was still humming, his helmet halfway off, and he was already sprinting.
The door banged open hard enough to knock over a coat rack.
“REG—” he hollered, storming through the living room. “WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU—”
“Jesus Christ, what’s your damage now?” came her voice from the hallway, and then—there she was.
Regulus stepped out of the kitchen holding a mug of tea, wearing fluffy socks and a confused scowl, hair damp from the shower and twisted up with a clip.
She froze. Eyes wide.
Sirius charged. “Baby—”
Reg squealed. “WHAT—” she backpedaled so hard she nearly dropped the tea, and he grabbed her.
Arms around her waist. Lips crashed against hers. Tea cup clattered somewhere useless. She yelped, muffled against his mouth, then shoved him hard in the chest.
“What the fuck?!”
Sirius pulled back, panting, grinning like he was high.
“You should’ve told me, baby. You should’ve told me—fucking hell, Reg, you absolute menace, you’re gorgeous, I’ve been losing my mind all damn morning.”
Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
“What the fuck are you talking about?!”
“The photo,” he cooed, still breathless. “The text, baby. That shirt. Those thighs. Fuck, I nearly crashed—”
Her whole face blanched.
“No.”
“Yeah.”
“NO—”
“You sent it to me.”
Regulus screamed. Like, actual banshee shriek. “I—oh my God, I meant to send that to—OH MY GOD, NO—”
Sirius blinked. His whole face shifted. “...you meant to send that to someone else?”
She covered her face. “Kill me. Strangle me. Dropkick me into traffic. I can’t live with this.”
“Who the fuck were you gonna send that to?!” Sirius growled, voice dropping several octaves. “Who the hell is he?!”
“I—no one—”
“No one my arse!” He grabbed her waist again, yanked her close until she could feel everything. “Tell me who the fuck it is so I can murder him with a wrench.”
“Sirius, stop—!”
“I’m better,” he groaned, rutting up a little against her like a dog. “I’m so much better, Reg. You feel that? You feel that? Tell me he ain’t half this size.”
Reg looked horrified. Then looked curious. Then blinked. Then squirmed.
“…shit,” she muttered, blushing violently. “You’re a lot bigger.”
Sirius beamed. Beamed.
“I told you.”
“This is—this is so wrong—”
“This is so right.” He kissed her again, deep and messy, and she whimpered and clung to his hoodie, weak in the knees.
“Say yes,” he begged. “Say yes. Say I can have you. Say I can knock you up, baby, fuck—”
“What—”
“I wanna ruin you. Wanna get you pregnant. Wanna keep you forever.”
“You’re insane—”
“I love you—”
“You’ve lost your fucking—”
“I love you, Regulus Black, I wanna ruin your whole life—”
She stared at him, red-faced, panting, thighs twitching.
“…fine.”
Sirius howled. Actually howled, punched the air, picked her up like a sack of gold, and yelled, “YES!!” so loud the neighbors probably felt it. Reg squealed and giggled and smacked his back with her fists as he ran up the stairs.
“You’re a menace!” she screeched.
“And you’re mine now,” he declared, booting open a bedroom door with a flourish.
“I can’t believe this is happening—”
“I can, baby, and it’s gonna happen so hard.”
Then he tossed her on the bed and dove after her like a madman, and neither of them made it back downstairs for a very long time.
-
By the time Sirius was finally spent—truly, thoroughly spent, not just panting and flushed and swearing he’d stop but done—the sun had moved clear across the sky and he was hours past late for work. Not that he gave a single goddamn shit. Not when Regulus was lying there exactly like that.
She was ruined.
Fucked out and folded in on herself, splayed across tangled sheets like a doll someone had dropped mid-play, all slack-limbed and blinking slow, dazed. Her mouth was parted, pink and spit-slick, letting out tiny, incoherent sighs—whimpery little sounds like “nnnh” and “uhhh” and “mhmhmmm” as if her brain had long since given up forming thoughts and now only had the instinct to keen softly in contentment. Her thighs were trembling. Her cunt was a mess—puffy, shiny, leaking with every slow twitch of her spent body. Not a drop spared. Not a single load wasted. And there had been so many.
He hadn’t pulled out once.
Hadn’t even thought about it, after the first time. Not when she’d gasped under him, nails digging in, begging in half-coherent mumbles not to stop. Not when her legs had wrapped around him like steel bands and she’d cried out brokenly as he pressed in again and again, each stroke just that much deeper, that much filthier. Not when her voice had gone high and sharp and shaky and she’d sobbed out something desperate and messy about how full she felt, how it wouldn’t stop dripping out, how he better keep going.
Sirius had lost it. He’d turned her over, pulled her up, bent her in every angle the mattress could support and a few it probably couldn’t. Her arms had given out halfway through, but that only made it easier to twist her wrists behind her back and keep going. Her mouth had gone slack. Her eyes had rolled. At one point she was just whining into the pillow, barely there, brain static—reduced to nothing but moans and messy babbling while her brother made sure to stuff her so full that no one would ever be able to miss it.
She hadn’t said a word about birth control. Hadn’t said anything at all after the fourth time. He didn’t care. That was the point. Sirius wanted it like this. Wanted her like this. Wanted this.
Now, finally, she was still—wrecked and flushed and utterly blissed out, curled up on the sheets with her cheek pressed to his pillow, naked and slick and clinging to the last shreds of his hoodie like it was a comfort blanket. She looked beautiful. Spent and fucked and claimed.
Sirius was glowing.
His skin was warm with it. His bones loose and satisfied, body humming in that molten, post-orgasmic float, but better—deeper—because this wasn’t just sex. It had never been just sex. He had her now. After years of longing. Of choking it back and laughing it off and making up excuses to see her in nothing but tiny shorts and crop tops around the house. After every dumb moment of pretending it was just teasing, just banter, just casual affection. After wanting her so badly it made his teeth ache and his heart do something awful in his chest.
She was his now.
His.
Not going anywhere.
And he was damn well going to be a dad.
Sirius Black grinned down at her like he’d just won the world and the gods and the entire bloody galaxy. He crouched by the bed, brushed sweaty hair off her temple, kissed her there—soft, reverent—and she made a sleepy, broken little noise that sounded like “mnnnnghh… love you…” in some syrup-slow, cockdrunk murmur. She didn’t even open her eyes.
He nearly groaned. His cock gave the tiniest twitch again and he had to grit his teeth.
“God, you’re perfect,” he muttered against her skin. “You’re mine. You’re so mine.”
He kissed her again, down her shoulder, over a bruise he’d sucked into the delicate skin there earlier. She shivered and whimpered, trying to tug the blankets tighter over her hips, already twitching when the cool air kissed between her thighs.
Sirius chuckled.
“Stay right there, gorgeous,” he murmured. “I’ll be back. And when I am, I’m gonna put another one in you.”
Regulus made a soft, delirious noise—half protest, half moan—and curled deeper into the bed. Her hair stuck to her cheek. Her lips moved, but no words came out.
He grinned again. Smug and raw and victorious.
By the time he pulled on jeans—half-dry, a bit rumpled, no underwear—and shoved on a t-shirt that absolutely smelled like sex, he was still high off it. Still humming. Still glowing.
Boots on. Jacket slung over one shoulder. Helmet swinging from his fingers. No attempt to hide the scratches on his collarbone or the faint, smeared bite mark just below his jaw.
He was walking different too—loose-limbed swagger, cocky tilt to his mouth, every step a strut. He looked like a man who’d conquered something.
He didn’t care that he was late. Didn’t care that the garage would give him shit or that Mae in the front office would wink at him knowingly. Hell, he hoped they did. Let them all guess. Let them smell it on him. Let them take one look at the lazy, sharp-edged smile on his face and know that Sirius Black had just had the best fucking morning of his goddamn life.
The house had been quiet for a few hours, which was already suspicious. Quiet, in this place, wasn’t peaceful. It was ominous.
Sirius Black knew better than anyone that silence, when it came from Regulus, was the calm before a storm—and not the nice kind. Not the rain-on-the-roof kind. No, this was the thunder-crash-while-you’re-naked-on-the-balcony kind.
And she’d left. Out. God knows where.
Sirius didn’t know when exactly she’d slipped out. He’d been too busy digging through the liquor cabinet and lighting up in the garden with Remus, James, Marlene, and the others. The house smelled like beer and weed and whatever candles Mary brought over to try and “add aesthetic to the vibe.”
“Bro,” James was saying from the couch, beer bottle dangling between two fingers. “I swear to God, if you do that guitar solo one more time I’m shoving the amp up your arse.”
“I wasn’t doing the solo,” Fabian snapped, shoving James’ shoulder with his foot. “That was Gideon.”
“Liar,” Gideon grinned. “I’m way more talented than that.”
They were loud, as always. Someone had turned the Bluetooth speaker up way too high and it was currently blasting Hot Knife by Fiona Apple. Marlene was yelling at Frank about pickles.
Sirius was sprawled in the kitchen doorway, leaning against the frame like it owed him rent, nursing the rim of a whiskey glass and ignoring all of them.
It hit his phone first. A buzz. Then another. Then a notification.
regulusblack 💋 just added to their story.
Sirius froze.
His heart? Didn’t beat for a second.
He tapped on it immediately. The screen lit up, and his entire soul exited his body.
First photo: Regulus, standing in the club bathroom, lips glossy, lashes thick, middle finger up and tongue out. Mini skirt. Fishnets. Cami cropped so high it barely counted as fabric. Hair pinned back in messy space buns. The caption read:
“I’ll be the reason your boyfriend cries tonight 💋💅🏻💄”
He choked. Literally.
“Oi, you alright?” Remus shouted.
“Fine.” Sirius said hoarsely, slipping out the kitchen, into the hallway. The second story auto-played.
Video. Mirror selfie. Regulus—fuck, Reggie—was mouthing along to some song Sirius didn’t recognize immediately, hips swaying, eyes rolled back dramatic and bratty, mouthing like she meant it, with a performance fit for the VMAs.
“I wanna fuck you in the bathroom / I wanna fuck you on the roof of my car…”
Sirius whimpered.
Palmed himself through his jeans, completely involuntarily.
“Jesus fucking Christ—”
He stumbled into the laundry room and slammed the door shut behind him. Breath hitched. His palm was over his mouth as he stared at the screen again, now paused at Regulus blowing a kiss to the camera.
He shouldn't be looking. He shouldn’t.
But he always looked.
He always wanted her.
Didn’t matter that she was younger. Didn’t matter that she was bratty and mean and did everything he told her not to do. Especially that. He’d told her to stop wearing skirts like that. She wore them every goddamn day. He told her not to go out. She left while he was mid-shower. He told her to listen—she never did.
And it drove him fucking insane.
His phone buzzed again. More stories. He opened them immediately.
More photos. More videos. A blurry one of her taking shots with some girls Sirius didn’t recognize. A picture of her making out with someone in the corner of a club. His jaw clenched. He didn’t recognize the guy. Didn’t want to.
Another photo—her legs, crossed in the passenger seat of someone’s car. Caption:
“He’s not even cute but he’s got coke so 💁🏻♀️”
He gripped his phone so tight he heard it crack.
But then—then it got worse.
The last video wasn’t at the club. It wasn’t even indoors. The angle was weird, grainy, the only light from the glow of her phone. She was lying in the boot of a car, of all places, casually filming herself mouthing lyrics along to the car radio.
“I wanna drink your juice so badly / I want it dripping from my ass to the floor—”
She grinned, winked, and the caption popped up:
“LMAOOO imagine locking me in the boot and forgetting I still have my phone 💅🏻🖕🏻💋”
Sirius screamed.
Not out loud. But in his soul.
He yanked open his contacts, thumb flying over the screen, panic rising so fast it made him dizzy.
Sirius (🖤):
What the fuckWhere the FUCK are you
Are you seriously in a fucking boot
WHO THE FUCK DID YOU LEAVE WITH
WHO LOCKED YOU IN THE BOOT
She didn’t respond. For three minutes. Three minutes too long. Three minutes of Sirius pacing in the laundry room, brain spiraling into homicide and kidnapping and police sirens and headlines like “LOCAL GIRL FOUND DEAD AFTER NIGHT OUT.”
Then—finally—three dots.
Regulus 🩷:
LOLLLLLL chillll i got out xxxxx
Sirius:
WHAT DO YOU MEAN “GOT OUT”
WHO TOOK YOU
ARE YOU SAFE
WHERE ARE YOU
TELL ME RIGHT NOW REG
Regulus 🩷:
hehe i kicked it open 😈
rolled out like a movie bitch 😭😭
pretty sure they didn’t notice lmao
i’m on a road somewhere idk where
theres a cow x
Sirius felt a physical stroke coming on.
Sirius:
STAY WHERE YOU ARE
I’M COMING TO GET YOU
RIGHT NOW
DON’T MOVE
I SWEAR TO GOD REG
He was already opening his tracker app. Bless his paranoid, overprotective ass for hiding a tracker in her phone case two months ago. The little red dot blinked on the screen.
She was two towns over. On the side of a country road. Near fucking sheep.
Sirius didn't even tell the others. Just stormed out of the house, keys already in his hand. He jumped into his bike—thank fuck he’d sobered up already—and peeled out of the driveway, tyres screeching.
He didn’t even think. He just went.
Sirius drove like the road had personally offended him.
Headlights blurred. Speed limits became suggestions. He swore at every driver who dared exist in front of him, screamed into the night air like it might answer back, like the dark hedgerows and empty stretches of road might cough up his sister and hand her over wrapped in bubble wrap and regret.
“Move,” he snarled at a van doing forty in a sixty. “MOVE—”
He overtook it illegally, heart hammering, fingers white-knuckled around the handlebars. The bike roared beneath him, engine angry, alive, vibrating up through his bones. He checked the tracker again. And again. And again.
Still there.
Still blinking.
Still her.
When he finally saw her, it was so sudden it almost knocked the breath out of him.
A flash of bare legs in his headlights. A figure perched on the low stone wall at the side of the road like she belonged there, like she’d been placed there on purpose, like some drunk, feral little offering to the universe.
“Regulus!”
He skidded to a stop, boots scraping, engine screaming as he cut it hard and jumped off the bike. He didn’t even put the stand down properly. Just abandoned it and ran.
She turned at the sound of his voice, eyes lighting up instantly, grin splitting her face wide and unrepentant.
“Siiiii—!” she cooed, arms opening dramatically. “You cameee.”
He reached her in seconds and didn’t even stop himself. Hands on her shoulders, shaking her just enough to make his point, voice loud and cracked and furious.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” he shouted. “Do you have any idea—do you have even a single survival instinct rattling around in that head of yours?”
She just giggled.
Actually giggled. Head tipped back, hair falling into her face, lashes fluttering when she looked back at him. Drunk. So drunk. Absolutely gone.
“You’re yelling,” she said cheerfully. “That means you were scared.”
“I was—” Sirius stopped himself, chest heaving. He dragged a hand through his hair, swore under his breath, then pulled her forward so hard she stumbled straight into him.
His arms wrapped around her before he could think better of it.
She melted instantly. Pressed her face into his chest, nose cold against his throat, arms sliding around his waist like this was the most natural thing in the world.
“There you are,” she murmured. “Knew you’d come get me.”
He sagged. Just a fraction. Enough to give him away.
“Don’t ever,” he said into her hair, voice low now, dangerous, threaded tight with something hot and helpless, “ever do something like that again.”
She hummed. Didn’t answer. Didn’t promise. Of course she didn’t.
She pulled back just enough to look up at him, eyes bright and mischievous and far too sober for how drunk she was.
“Hey,” she said. “Why’d you watch all my stories?”
His jaw clenched.
“I didn’t.”
She smiled wider. Slow. Knowing.
“You watched all of them,” she sing-songed. “Every single one. You even paused the good bits.”
“Get on the bike,” he growled, dodging the question entirely.
She gasped, delighted. “Bossy.”
He grabbed his helmet and shoved it into her hands. “Put that on before I lose my patience.”
“Ooooh,” she laughed, wobbling as she did it. “Threatening. Are you gonna put me in my place, Sirius?”
His eyes went dark.
“Get. On.”
She obeyed—mostly because she wanted to. He lifted her easily, hands firm at her waist, set her down on the bike right in front of him. Too close. Way too close. Her back brushed his chest even before he climbed on.
He swung a leg over and caged her in without thinking, arms bracketing her, knees tight around her thighs. Protective. Possessive. Automatic.
She froze for half a second.
Then she squirmed.
“Wait,” she said, voice suddenly breathy and confused. “What’s—”
The engine kicked on.
She squealed.
“Oh—oh my god—”
Sirius stiffened. “What?”
She shifted again, a little laugh bubbling out of her, hands flying to brace herself—and then drifting, very deliberately, between her thighs as she rocked back against him.
He swallowed hard.
“Regulus,” he warned.
“Sorry,” she said, absolutely not sorry. “The bike— it’s—”
She rocked again, accidentally-on-purpose, flopping back against his chest with a soft, pleased sound.
“It’s vibrating,” she finished, giggling. “I really like it.”
Sirius made a sound somewhere between a groan and a prayer.
“Christ,” he muttered. “You’re killing me.”
She kept moving. Small, careless motions. Drunk, unfiltered, all instinct and zero self-preservation. Every shift pressed her closer, every breath dragged heat into places he was very much trying not to think about.
He didn’t turn the engine off.
Didn’t move away.
Just watched her from behind, jaw tight, pulse in his throat, hands hovering uselessly at her hips like touching her might set something off he couldn’t stop.
“Why aren’t we going yet?” she asked, peeking back at him through the visor.
“Because,” he said darkly, “I’m figuring out how the hell I’m supposed to drive like this.”
She smiled.
Soft. Bratty. Perfect.
And rocked again.
The engine thrummed beneath her—low, steady, relentless—and Regulus was trembling with it, squirming like she could crawl inside the vibrations themselves if she just rocked enough. And oh, was she rocking. Slow at first. Just innocent enough to make Sirius question if it was deliberate. But then she did it again. And again. Then a third time—longer, deeper—pressing her hips right back into him like she knew exactly what she was doing.
“Fuck—” Sirius hissed through his teeth, caging her in tighter as his thighs locked around hers, the leather of his gloves creaking where his hands clenched the handlebars. Her helmet knocked back lightly into his chest as she tipped her head, giggling, a sugary, dangerous sound muffled slightly by the visor but no less intoxicating.
“Heehee,” Regulus hummed, sweet and syrupy and fucked in the head. “It’s not my fault your bike’s a vibrator on wheels, big brother.”
Sirius growled. “Reg.”
She ignored him completely, pushing back again, this time slower, more deliberate, until she could feel the stiff, twitching press of him through his jeans—solid, restrained, angry. And just for her.
“Awww,” she crooned, grinding lazily into it, “is that for me?”
“Regulus.” He said her name like it was a curse. Like he’d cough blood if she kept moving.
She only giggled louder. “It is, isn’t it? Fuck, that’s cute. You’re trying so hard, aren’t you?”
One of her hands reached behind her, smoothing down the back of her skirt even as her hips rolled up again. “You’re trying to be good. Trying not to fuck me off the back of your bike, poor thing—”
“Don’t push me,” he snarled against the side of her helmet, breath hot against the polycarbonate shell, whole body taut with restraint and rage and the kind of lust that made him dizzy.
“Ohhh, I wanna be pushed,” Regulus purred, hands bracing on the tank now as she arched her back. “Push into me, not away. I know you want to. You've wanted to for months.”
“Christ,” Sirius groaned, forehead thudding forward against the crown of her helmet.
“You think I don’t see you?” she went on, voice pitching higher, all wine and syrup, legs fidgeting, thighs twitching as the engine’s hum pulsed up between them both. “Think I don’t notice the way you look at me? The way you stare when I wear the short skirts, the way you shake when I grind on your lap—fuck, I was gonna wait till we got home, be a good girl—but this, this bike—” She gasped suddenly, jerking forward and then back again, pressing her ass tight to his lap. “It’s too much. I can’t. It’s your fault. You shouldn’t’ve come to rescue me if you didn’t want me dripping for you.”
Sirius’s hands twitched. Slid forward. Gripped her waist hard enough to leave a mark.
“Don’t. Move,” he grit out.
She obeyed—but not for long. Just long enough to breathe a giggly, little hiccup of a whimper, and then she was shifting again, rubbing herself back against him in slow, endless rolls of her hips. The friction made him snarl.
“Reg—fuck, you’re—” He leaned in close, voice ragged and dangerous and almost broken. “You’re killing me, baby.”
“Awww,” she pouted, twisting just enough to peer back at him, visor lifted enough for her glossy lips to peek out, lower one trembling with feigned sorrow. “But I don’t want you to die, Si… I want you to fuck me.”
He choked. “You little—”
She giggled again, bouncing once on the seat, and squealed as the motion rolled a wave of vibration right through her soaked cunt.
“AH—nghh! Fuck—ohmygod—it feels so good,” she whined, hands pawing at his knees now, trying to spread them wider, push herself back deeper into his lap. “Please, Si. Please, please, please—” Her voice was breaking now, desperate, strung-out and needful, every inch of her soaked through and shaking, trying to rub against him, get off on him, anything.
Sirius's voice was fraying by the second. “I can't—fuck—I can’t drive like this—”
“Wait—” Regulus perked up with a sudden wicked gasp, body twisting with excitement. “What if I—oooh, wait, listen—what if I lift my skirt, right? Just a little? Sit down real pretty, real warm on your lap, hmmm?” Her lashes fluttered. “You’d feel me so much better. I’d sit still, promise. Be your cute little seat warmer. I’d sit there like a good girl, all hot and wet and yours, while you ride. Doesn’t that sound nice, Si?”
He moaned. Moaned. Low and strangled and filthy.
“You wanna feel how wet I am?” she purred, already dragging the hem of her skirt up, exposing the back of her thighs, the edge of her panties, all black and sheer and fucking pointless. “You wanna ride with my little cunt pressed right to you? I won’t move, I promise—I’ll just sit there and make cute little sounds, just for you—mmmnh—”
Sirius didn’t even answer.
Didn’t need to.
He grabbed her hips and yanked her back into him, hissing a curse as he adjusted himself, cock pressed up hard beneath the seam of his jeans, trapped and throbbing, grinding now against the soaked cotton of her panties as she whimpered and gasped.
“Yeah,” he growled into the side of her helmet, voice shaking. “Yeah. We’re doing that.”
Regulus squealed, delighted. “Eeee—yayyyy!”
She cheered. Full-on fucking clapped her hands in glee, the sound of it echoing off the empty hedgerow, as Sirius barked out a broken laugh, helpless, ruined by her and she knew it.
“God, you’re insane,” he muttered, gripping her tighter, helping her shift just right so the curve of her cunt lined up perfectly with the bulge of his cock, only denim and lace between them now. “You're gonna be the death of me.”
“I’ll be the best death,” she cooed, settling back with a happy sigh, skirt hiked to her hips, legs spread on either side of his, cunt snug and warm and soaking into him. “You can scream my name on the way to hell.”
She rocked again.
Sirius groaned.
The second Sirius finally cracked, it wasn’t soft, it wasn’t careful—it was fucking inevitable. His breath came out in a harsh snarl, helmet knocking into hers as he cursed and fumbled with his belt, groaning deep as he shoved his jeans down just enough to free himself, cock flushed, leaking, throbbing. He didn’t even hesitate—one hand reached down and yanked her panties aside, the soaked little scrap barely resisting before giving way with a slick, wet pull.
“Fuck—Reg—” His voice cracked on her name as his fingers slipped between her folds. Soaked. Heat and slick and fluttering need, her cunt clenching around nothing already, aching to be filled. “Jesus Christ, baby…”
Regulus let out a shaky gasp, hands gripping the front of the bike now, knuckles white. Her hips twitched back into his touch like instinct, like she didn’t know how not to beg for him with every inch of her. “Mnnnh—Si—Si please, oh my god, I need it, please please—”
He didn’t know how she was still speaking in full sentences. She was fucking melting in front of him, shaking with every pulse of the engine under them, every swipe of his fingers teasing her open. He slid two fingers in with ease, and still she gasped and pushed back harder, greedier, cunt sucking him in like she’d been waiting for this her whole life.
Sirius groaned—actually fucking groaned—and stroked her slowly, watching over her shoulder like a man possessed. “Look at you,” he growled. “Fuckin’ drenched. This all for me, baby?”
“Yes,” she whined, head tipping back to rest on his shoulder, her whole body trembling as he curled his fingers, made her squirm. “Yes, yes, all for you—please, I want it, I want you—want your cock—please, Sirius, I need it so bad—”
He couldn’t take it anymore.
The second she said cock, his hand flew to her hip, gripped her tight, and he slammed forward in one brutal thrust.
“Ohmy—fuhh—” Regulus shrieked, her voice pitching into a raw, cracked moan as she arched forward, bracing herself, mouth open and eyes rolling behind her visor as he bottomed out in one go. The stretch. The shock of it. She was stuffed full, trembling around him, clamping down and gushing and whining like a good little fucktoy right there on the side of the road.
Sirius could’ve fucking howled. He buried his face in her neck, still caged in by the helmet, panting and grinning, grinning like the sick bastard he was.
“Fuck me,” he breathed, hips twitching. “You feel insane. This is—fuck, this is everything. Everything.”
He was thrusting before she could answer, dragging out and slamming back in, hard and deep and needy, holding her so tight she couldn’t move an inch without feeling all of him, every thick inch grinding inside her, the bike humming beneath them, bodywork rattling with every slam of his hips.
“You hear that?” he cooed against her helmet, breathless. “Hear how wet you are, pretty girl?”
“Y-Yeah—hahh—yesyesyes yes—!” she sobbed, rocking back in time with him now, frantic and fucked-out and desperate.
He laughed, low and dark, his voice all rasp and filth. “Good. ‘Cause now we’re really gonna ride.”
And then—then—he kicked the gear.
The bike lurched forward like a beast uncaged, wheels spitting gravel as they tore off down the road, the engine a scream beneath them, the wind tearing around them. Regulus screamed, half-laugh, half-moan, her body bouncing in his lap as he fucked into her, pace reckless now, primal, the vibrations thrumming up through both of them.
She was howling, mewling, her words broken and slurred into squeals: “Faster—oh god, more, yes, yes!”
And Sirius—grinning like a lunatic, sweat slicking his brow under the helmet, cock driving in and out like his life depended on it—he just growled, “You better hold on, baby.”
And she did.
They both did.
And they loved it.
By the time they rolled up the drive, they were both wrecked—sweaty, flushed, fucked-out in that dazed, ruined way that made every movement slow and soft, like their bones had melted. Sirius killed the engine and steadied the bike, boots crunching gravel as they came to a stop in the dark shadow of the house.
Regulus whimpered the second the vibrations died.
Sirius reached down automatically, hands gentle now, pulling her skirt back down over trembling thighs as she clung to him, giggling against his chest. She was dripping—thighs slick, panties a lost cause, knees threatening to buckle with every breath. Her fingers curled into his jacket like she never wanted to let go.
“Fuck,” she breathed, eyes glazed, helmet still on, lips glossy. “Siriusss…”
He chuckled, hoarse and warm, adjusting himself and tucking his cock away with a wince. She caught the motion, and her whine cracked through the night air.
“Nooo—why’d you stop—?”
Sirius grinned, leaned in to coo against her helmet like he was teasing a pet. “Later, baby. Promise. First we gotta get inside without the whole house seeing how hard I fucked you on a moving vehicle.”
She pouted, lips pushing out beneath the edge of her visor. “Don’t care.”
“I do,” he murmured, brushing her hair back, eyes dancing. “Last thing I need is James getting ideas and Marlene offering to join in.”
Regulus clung harder, eyes fluttering. “They’re all so annoying.”
“I know, sweetheart.” He kissed the top of her helmet. “I’ll get rid of ‘em. Just gimme ten minutes.”
“But,” she mumbled, trailing fingers down his chest. “You have to park the bike in the garage anyway…”
He paused. Brow lifted.
“…Right,” he said slowly, suspicion curling into a smirk. “I do. Good point.”
She gave a giggle—light and sugary, just this side of too sweet—and stepped back, wobbling a little on her legs but still managing to keep that bratty sway to her hips as she turned. Sirius started wheeling the bike around, still chuckling, shaking his head. They coasted into the side garage, motor off now, just the low creak of hinges and the soft buzz of distant voices from the house behind them.
The moment the garage door thudded closed behind them, Regulus moved.
Sirius didn’t even get a full breath before she bent right over the bike—hands on the seat, legs spread, ass tilted up high and waiting. She looked over her shoulder with a smirk so sly it could’ve started a war.
“Forgot to say thank you,” she said innocently, voice sing-song.
Sirius barked a breathless laugh. “Oh, you’re unreal.”
But he was already walking toward her, already groaning as he dragged a hand up the back of her thigh and palmed her ass, spreading her open, watching her twitch under his fingers.
“You’re gonna kill me,” he muttered, leaning in, lips brushing her shoulder. “You’re gonna actually fucking kill me.”
Regulus only giggled, wiggling her hips, whining for him without shame.
“Good,” she breathed, voice thready, “I want to.”
And Sirius—smiling now, breath hot, hands rough and fond and hungry—just kissed her spine, groaned into her neck, and bucked up against her again, muttering things like "pretty girl,” and “can’t get enough of you,” while she gasped and moaned and begged for more.
They’d gone for rounds—more than either of them could count. The garage was hot with it, thick with sweat and steam and the sound of breathless, broken moans echoing off concrete walls. Now, finally, they were done. For the moment.
Regulus was a mess.
Bent against the bike, barely upright, thighs shaking, slick smeared down to her knees, panties bunched and useless around one ankle. Her skirt was rucked up to her waist, ass glowing red from Sirius’s hands, and her whole body jolted when he finally pulled out with a low, ruined grunt.
They were both gasping—heaving.
Sirius staggered a bit, fumbling to shove himself back into his jeans. His hands were shaking. His helmet came off first, hair plastered to his forehead, lips bitten raw. Regulus wobbled upright next to him, tugging at her skirt, trying and failing to look remotely put together. Her helmet hit the floor with a soft clunk and she shook her head like a dazed kitten, hair a mess, lips slick and swollen, face glazed over in perfect, pretty afterglow.
He couldn’t help himself.
One arm looped around her waist and dragged her into a deep, messy kiss—full tongue, teeth clashing, no air, no words. Just heat. Hunger. Tongues tangling. His other hand slid down and smacked her ass, hard enough to make her squeal and giggle against his mouth.
“Go,” he murmured, breath hot against her lips, eyes hooded and wild. “Upstairs. My room. Wait for me.”
She lit up—beamed—like he’d handed her Christmas, squealing again as she bounced toward the door, skirt still twisted, laugh trailing behind her like perfume.
And then she was gone.
The moment she vanished through the door into the house, Sirius’s smile dropped. Gone. Wiped clean.
His whole body snapped into motion.
Fast. Sharp. Focused.
He stormed through the back door and into the living room where the leftovers of the party still lingered—James yelling about his beer, Marlene on Frank’s lap, Remus halfway to a nap on the couch.
“Party’s over,” Sirius barked.
James blinked. “What—mate, what—?”
“Out.”
“Sirius, what the fuck—?”
“Out. Now.”
He didn’t explain.
Didn’t give a reason.
Didn’t answer a single question.
He just stalked through the room like a storm, ripping open the front door and tossing shoes and jackets at people until they caught on.
Remus raised an eyebrow. “You okay?”
“Fine.”
“Did something happen?”
Sirius’s jaw ticked. “Nope.”
Marlene snorted. “This is about your sister, isn’t it? What, she text you something slutty again?”
“Everyone out,” Sirius snapped. “Five minutes or I’m throwing your phones in the pool.”
That did it.
Within minutes, the house was clearing out. The Bluetooth speaker went dead. The scent of weed and beer started to fade. A door slammed shut behind James, cursing under his breath, and silence dropped over the place like a curtain.
Sirius stood there for half a beat. Just long enough to breathe once.
Then he grinned.
And he ran.
Took the stairs two at a time, heart pounding all over again, already unbuttoning his shirt as he tore down the hall to where she was waiting.
He threw the door open like the house was on fire.
And maybe it was—maybe he was, with the way his chest was rising, shirt half-unbuttoned, belt already hanging loose, hair wild from the helmet, from the wind, from her. He was sweat-slick, flushed, grinning like a wolf who knew exactly where the lamb had gone to hide.
And there she was.
Fuck.
Regulus.
On his bed, sprawled out like a fantasy dragged straight from his darkest thoughts—face buried in his pillows, back arched deep, ass up high, thighs spread wide, holding herself open with both hands like a gift, a prayer, a promise. Her skin glowed in the low light, flushed and marked, little red fingerprints blooming over her hips, her inner thighs shiny with slick. Her hair spilled around her like ink, mussed and damp and perfect, her whole body trembling in anticipation, in need.
“Holy fucking shit,” Sirius groaned, staggering forward, hand dragging down his face like it might ground him, like this wasn’t the most perfect thing he’d ever seen. “Look at you. Look at you, baby—my pretty little girl, just waiting for me…”
Regulus peeked back at him, lips parted in a hazy, open-mouthed smile. “Took you long enough,” she purred, voice sticky-sweet. “Thought I’d have to start without you.”
He growled—actually growled—and tore his shirt off with one hand, belt hitting the floor with a clatter. “Oh, you will not,” he muttered, eyes dark, voice wrecked, “not unless you want me to tie your hands behind your back and make you beg for it.”
She gasped—giggled—wiggled her ass like an invitation.
Sirius was on her in seconds, crawling onto the bed like something primal, like he belonged there, like she belonged to him. His hands slid down her back, fingers dragging over her spine with reverence, cooing softly against her shoulder, against her ear.
“That’s my girl,” he whispered, pressing hot kisses to her neck. “My messy, dripping little slut, all spread out and ready. You want it again, don’t you?”
Regulus nodded desperately, voice catching in her throat.
“Say it,” he murmured, lips brushing the shell of her ear.
“Want it,” she breathed, rocking her hips back into him, “Want you, want your cock, want to be yours, want it so bad—”
“That’s right,” he whispered, lining himself up, running the tip down her soaked, swollen slit. “You are mine. You belong to me. You’re gonna take all of it like a good girl. You’re gonna take everything. Gonna let me ruin you.”
She gasped, trembling, pushing back against him, helpless for it.
“I’m gonna fuck you full,” he promised, breath thick, voice a velvet snarl. “Gonna knock you up, stuff you full of me so deep it doesn’t even drip out. You want that, don’t you? Wanna be my good little breeder? My perfect little cumdump? Huh, baby?”
“Yes,” she sobbed, shaking. “Yes, please—Sirius, please—”
His hands tightened on her hips, and he laughed, soft and dangerous and so in love.
And then—
Then he thrust forward, all heat and hunger and open-mouthed groans, her voice breaking into a squeal as their bodies met again, slick and sweat and sound filling the room like a storm finally breaking loose.
The bed creaked.
Her hands clawed at the sheets.
His breath caught in his throat as he whispered her name against her skin like a vow.
And as the shadows flickered across the room and the night wrapped around them again, nothing existed outside that bed, that room, that rhythm.
Warning: contains Sirius/Regulus, Blackcest, incest implications, suggestive sexual humour
Don’t like, don’t read — it’s tagged for a reason, so curate your own dash and scroll on.
The hallway was too crowded. The kind of crowded that made you sweat in winter robes and bump elbows with first-years who smelled like anxiety and Bertie Bott’s. Laughter buzzed. Someone dropped a cauldron. There was a distant explosion from a classroom no one dared check. Standard Hogwarts Thursday.
And in the middle of it all, walking like he owned the bloody castle, was Regulus Black.
He shouldn’t have looked so good. It was rude, actually. Offensive.
Black joggers with silver side stripes slung low on narrow hips, tight black crop-top showing a sliver of sculpted pale stomach and sharp collarbones, his black curls tousled artfully like he’d either just rolled out of bed or into someone’s, and silver rings flashing on elegant fingers as he twirled his wand between them absently. A black choker with a little crescent moon sat at his throat. He looked like a cursed Pinterest board: “Hot Gothic Prince With Knives and Daddy Issues.”
And he was surrounded. Barty Crouch Jr. was leaning close, all sharp cheekbones and drawl. Evan Rosier stood behind him smirking, twirling a cigarette that smelled suspiciously like not tobacco. Pandora Rosier tossed her curls and spun in slow circles in heels too high for the hallway. Dorcas Meadowes was whispering something into Regulus’s ear that made him laugh, soft and wicked.
That was when the Gryffindors struck.
Sirius Black, grinning like a wolf in a henhouse, ducked behind a moving tapestry with James Potter and Peter Pettigrew. Remus Lupin leaned against the wall pretending to read, eyes flicking up beneath lashes, watching for the right moment. Lily Evans stood on the far end of the hallway as a lookout, arms crossed and smirking.
They were armed with a boring, classic hex: Sticking Jinxes on all four sides of Regulus’s shoes and a timed Ink Bomb Charm to hit him from above. The idea was for the elegant Slytherin prince to be glued to the floor and drenched in purple glittery ink in front of all his precious little fanboys. Simple. Silly. Petty.
Unfortunately, Regulus Black was faster than he looked.
The spells zipped through the air—and missed.
Regulus sidestepped, light on his feet like a dancer, lips quirking into a smile before the spells even passed him. The ink bomb detonated over an unfortunate fourth year from Hufflepuff. Screams erupted. Squeals. Confusion.
But all of that faded—faded completely—when Regulus turned.
He didn’t frown. He didn’t shout. He didn’t sneer like everyone expected.
He grinned.
It was a horrifying grin. The kind of grin that said “I’m about to ruin your life and enjoy every second of it.”
“Oh, no,” Remus whispered.
“Oh, fuck,” James muttered.
Peter squeaked.
Regulus stepped forward slowly, hips swaying, curls bouncing, and purred:
“You really shouldn’t have done that, darling brother.”
Sirius blinked, still grinning nervously. “Oh, come off it, it was a joke—”
“I know,” Regulus cut in, voice syrupy sweet. “But I think it’s my turn to be funny now.”
He clapped once, turned to the crowd, and raised his voice. “Did you know,” he said cheerfully, “that when we were children, I cast a little ritual spell on dear Sirius?”
Pandora gasped in delight. Barty straightened, amused. Evan lit his cigarette and said, “Oh, this’ll be good.”
Regulus continued. “Something I found in our family library. Something our great-great grandmother scrawled into the margins of a Black grimoire. Something ancient. Elegant. Devastating.”
Sirius’s smile faltered.
“You see,” Regulus said, stepping up onto a bench so everyone could see, “I turned my brother into a sleeper agent.”
“What the actual fuck—” James started.
“Triggered by only one thing,” Regulus sang, voice dripping with pleasure. “Do you remember, Sirius? The song Mother used to play during her home aerobics?”
Sirius paled. “No.”
“Oh,” Regulus grinned wider, “I do.”
And then he sang.
“Volgen nu!” Regulus trilled.
Sirius froze.
“One dutch, two dutch, queens of the double dutch…”
The entire hallway went dead silent.
Regulus kept going. His voice was shockingly good. Rich. Smooth. Seductive. Playful. He winked at someone—maybe Gideon Prewett, who choked on his own tongue.
“We skip better than you by that much…”
Sirius’s eyes glazed over.
“Watch our feet; our moves are sweet…”
His limbs jerked.
“Our double dutching won’t be beat—”
Sirius screamed into motion.
Everyone screamed.
He was dancing. Like, really dancing. Arms flailing, legs hopping, jazz hands, high knees, spins, butt wiggling—it was demonic. Possessed. Aerobic. His face was locked in a blissful smile, blank and glowing, like he’d been summoned by Richard Simmons himself.
Regulus clapped gleefully. “One dutch, two dutch, queens of the double dutch—”
Sirius body-rolled.
“We skip better than you by that much—”
He tried a spin and tripped over a third year.
Regulus flicked his wand. Ropes flew from nowhere, enchanted and glowing, floating mid-air and twisting like snakes. The ropes clapped together and began spinning—double dutch style.
Gasps. Cheers.
Regulus jumped in.
“Watch our feet; our moves are sweet—” he sang with a smirk, bouncing effortlessly between the ropes.
“Our double dutching won’t be beat—”
And it wasn’t. Regulus jumped and twirled, flipped and spun, wiggled his hips side to side with every beat. His crop top rode higher. His joggers slipped lower. His ass moved like sin wrapped in black cotton.
Pandora screamed. “Wiggle those hips, Reggie!!”
Barty hollered, “End his career, baby!!”
Evan groaned, biting his knuckle. “Fuck, he’s so hot I’m gonna combust.”
Fabian and Gideon looked like they were malfunctioning.
Gideon clutched his chest and yelled, “Is this what attraction feels like?!”
James muttered, “Why am I… is that Regulus?!”
Frank blinked rapidly. “I—he—what’s happening to my marriage?”
Regulus kept going. “Touwtje springen, wat leuk!” he chirped, spinning with a shimmy.
Girls whistled. Boys groaned. Someone threw a tie at him.
Sirius was still jumping. Wildly. Awkwardly. Getting whipped by the rope. He tripped. He tried again. He got stuck. The ropes tangled him and flung him out like a crash test dummy. He lay in a heap on the floor, chest heaving, drenched in sweat, limbs twitching.
And Regulus?
Still jumping. Perfect. Pretty. Glowing.
“Can we jump up? We can jump up! Over, under, we know what’s up!”
Peter was shrieking with laughter. Lily was wheezing. Mary was on the floor. Marlene had recorded the entire thing.
Alice was crying tears of joy. “That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Remus gawked at Sirius, who was groaning and trying to sit up, absolutely destroyed. “Mate,” he breathed, “you got annihilated.”
Regulus finally landed with a graceful spin, caught both ropes, and bowed.
Applause exploded.
Then he turned, looked over his shoulder at his friends, and wiggled his ass.
Barty screamed.
Dorcas shrieked. “You little slut!”
Pandora fainted.
Regulus turned around, laughing, cheeks flushed, and missed the way Sirius stared up at him. Jaw slack. Eyes wide. Face blank.
Whispering. "Holy fuck."
James blinked. “Did you just moan?”
Sirius didn’t answer.
Everyone screamed. Again.
Everyone lost their minds.
And Regulus Black? He just smiled.
The applause was fading, but the aftershocks were still rippling. Regulus was flushed with adrenaline, curls bouncing, lips slick with breathless laughter as he spun toward Sirius’s crumpled heap on the ground. The taller boy was a wreck—sweat-drenched, blinking at nothing, limbs still twitching like the ghost of the dance still haunted his muscles.
Regulus planted his feet.
Then—grinned.
He turned. Bent slowly at the waist, all theatrics, his pretty face tilted sideways, curls falling like ink. His arse—scandalously not facing Sirius, to Sirius’s deep and personal disappointment—was swaying teasingly, back arching just to show off his flat stomach and mischievous gleam.
“Oh, you poor thing,” Reg cooed, pouting mockingly. “Are your joints too ancient to handle a little rope cardio, big brother?”
Sirius didn’t reply.
He couldn’t.
He was frozen.
Like some poor bastard had Petrificus’d him mid-thirst.
His eyes were locked—glued—on Regulus.
Reg was right there. Giggling. Sparkling with smugness. That little fucking voice, all high and bright and bratty, crawling straight under Sirius’s skin like poison-laced silk.
And Sirius was spiraling.
It hit him like a train. A hot, sexy, glitter-covered train.
He’d always known Regulus was pretty. Duh. Had known it since they were little. Too pretty, too cute, too dangerous to be allowed. But this? This wasn’t just ‘my brother is objectively hot and other people notice it too’—this was his chest tightening, his groin tightening, his very soul disintegrating under the weight of one giggling little gremlin in a crop top.
I’m fucked, Sirius thought numbly.
Because yeah. Regulus was sexy. Drop-dead sexy. But it wasn’t just that. It was how clever Reg was. The way his mind never stopped ticking, how he could outwit anyone with a smirk and one eyebrow raise. It was the little cruel streak that Sirius adored—the bratty teasing, the smug mocking, the mean little grins. It was the way Reg could make an entire hallway dance to his tune, quite literally, with just a little black magic and a pretty voice.
He loved being bigger than Reg. Taller. Stronger. Because it meant he could protect him, could hold him, could be the one wrapping an arm around those dainty shoulders when shit went sideways.
He loved that once upon a time, Reg had been his baby. Sirius’s little shadow. Crying and clinging and whining like a kitten when Sirius left for Hogwarts, all tear-streaked cheeks and wobbly lips.
Reg had been a big brother’s boy.
And Sirius had loved every second of it.
He hadn’t realised until now just how much.
“Oi,” Regulus snapped, crossing his arms now and standing again, curls bouncing, head tilted, eyes narrowing. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you just staring like that?”
No answer.
Regulus growled and dropped to his knees beside him. Right in Sirius’s lap. His hand shoved at Sirius’s shoulder.
“Hey. Earth to meathead. Are you seriously still broken?” Reg pouted. “You're boring. This is boring. I was being funny. You were supposed to throw a tantrum, not go all coma-mode.”
Regulus poked his cheek.
Then his chest.
Then leaned on him, head bonking against Sirius’s shoulder, whining dramatically.
“Why aren’t you yelling at me?” Regulus demanded. “You always yell. You’re Sirius fucking Black. Your default mode is yelling.”
Sirius turned.
Slowly.
Like a man surfacing from a dream.
And he grinned.
Big. Dumb. Soft. Dreamy.
“Sorry,” he breathed. “You’re just… really fucking cute when you whine like that.”
The hallway exploded.
Marlene screamed with laughter and smacked Lily.
“OH MY FUCKING GOD—DID HE JUST—”
“HE DID,” Lily shrieked back.
“BRO,” James bellowed.
“BRO?!” Frank shouted.
“BRO??” Fabian and Gideon yelled in unison.
Pandora clutched her chest and dropped to her knees. “This is the best day of my life.”
Dorcas wheezed and slammed her palm into a wall. “This bitch really said ‘you’re cute’ like that wasn’t his literal sibling.”
Regulus blinked. “What.”
Marlene launched herself forward and shouted, “HE’S IN LOVE WITH YOU!”
Sirius jerked as if slapped. “I—NO—WAIT—”
Marlene turned with manic glee. “REG! REGGIE, BABY! You don’t know how big Sirius is. I’m serious. He’s—huge.”
Regulus shrieked in scandal.
Sirius turned bright red.
James fell to the floor cackling. “She means his dick!”
“MARAUDERS!” Lily screamed. “CODE RED!”
Peter was rolling on the floor. “This is the worst day of my life and I love it.”
Regulus looked appalled. “WHAT THE FUCK—”
“I mean,” Marlene said, smirking wickedly, “if you are curious, baby, he is single…”
Sirius looked at Regulus like the sun had personally kissed him.
And he grabbed him.
Wrapped both arms around the smaller boy’s waist and dragged him into his lap, chin on Reg’s shoulder, nose in his neck, murmuring sweetly, “Don’t run. Don’t be shy. Don’t you wanna stay and hear more about my stats?”
Regulus was having a full nervous breakdown.
“YOU’RE INSANE,” he shrieked. “LET ME GO—”
“You could’ve been mine ages ago,” Sirius cooed, grinning wide now. “Little crybaby. Little whiny thing. You were obsessed with me.”
“I WAS FIVE!” Regulus screamed.
“Yeah,” Sirius sighed happily. “And so clingy. Merlin, you were so adorable. Still are. Look at you.”
“I HATE YOU.”
“I know. It’s okay. You’ll get over it once you sit on my face.”
“WHAT THE FUCK—”
Barty Crouch Jr. dropped his entire soul to the floor laughing. Evan was in tears. Pandora had fainted again. Dorcas was recording the entire thing.
And Sirius?
Still holding Reg tight, resting his chin on the shorter’s shoulder, grinning like a man in love.
Regulus was vibrating in place. His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
And all he could manage was:
“You’re insane.”
Sirius sighed dreamily.
“I know. But look at you. Look at your cute little nose. How could I not be?”
The hallway was thick with noise, like usual — hundreds of students moving between Charms and Transfiguration, laughter echoing, books being juggled, flirtations, threats, notes passed under hands. But at the centre of it all, like a spider lounging in the centre of his web, stood Regulus Black.
He was leaning back against the stone wall just by the arched corridor toward the staircases, flanked by Barty Crouch Jr., Evan Rosier, Pandora Rosier, and Dorcas Meadowes, all of whom were laughing far too loudly for it to be anything innocent. Regulus was dressed like he hadn't even meant to incinerate half the student population just by showing up — low-slung trousers that clung to his hips like sin, black boots that had definitely never seen a scuff, and a silver mesh shirt layered under a cropped Slytherin jumper that rode high enough to flash the deep cut of his waist and the pale, curved line of a bite mark.
And Sirius Black was fuming.
“This is the seventh time,” Sirius hissed, eyes sharp and wild, hiding behind a pillar like he was on a battlefield. “The seventh time he’s managed to embarrass me without even fucking trying.”
“Oh, come off it,” James said, elbowing Sirius hard in the ribs. “You’re obsessed. Just hit him with the spell and be done with it.”
“Yeah,” Peter added, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “You said this one’ll make him sing the truth or something? Like… full-on confessional ballad?”
“Not a ballad,” Remus muttered, adjusting his sleeves. “It’s experimental spellwork. One of those raw magic things that plucks at the subconscious.”
“A singing subconscious,” Marlene said flatly, arms crossed. “If this works, I’m getting Barty next.”
Mary Macdonald grinned. “Ten Galleons it’s something devastatingly gay.”
“I’m betting it’s a soft piano love song,” Lily smirked. “Like ‘I think about Evan when I go to bed at night’ levels of emo.”
“Imagine if it’s a dirge,” Frank muttered.
“Oh my God, what if he just sings, like, ‘Fuck you, Sirius Black’ on repeat?” Fabian wheezed.
“Poetic justice,” Gideon nodded.
Alice blinked. “Are we… actually doing this?”
Sirius raised his wand. “You bet your ass we are.”
From across the hall, Regulus laughed at something Barty had said, head tilted back, eyes gleaming, mouth wide. He looked radiant and evil. He looked untouchable.
Sirius aimed. “Showtime.”
The spell — a whip of silver light — cut across the hall like a blade. Students jumped back with startled gasps. A few first years ducked. But Regulus, smug little bastard, moved — a lazy tilt of his body that sent the spell cracking against a shield charm Evan threw up too late, ricocheting off Pandora’s rings, spinning midair like a coin, and—
Sirius didn’t even have time to shout.
The spell hit him dead center.
There was a sound. Like all the air got sucked out of the room. Then: stillness.
Sirius stood in the middle of the hall like a puppet with the strings suddenly taut, head bowed, lips parted, eyes glassy and wide. Students stopped. Everyone stopped. Regulus’s mouth dropped open.
“...Sirius?” James asked, suddenly nervous.
Sirius raised his head.
He grinned.
A slow, possessed, feral sort of grin.
Then he said, low and purring like thunder beneath velvet:
“You let me violate you.”
Regulus flinched like he’d been slapped.
Barty choked on his own laughter. “What the fuck—”
Sirius took a step forward, slow, prowling, something wrong in the swing of his shoulders.
“You let me desecrate you.”
“Is he—what spell is this again?” Remus asked sharply, backing up.
“Is he possessed?” Peter squeaked.
“More like liberated,” Pandora whispered, eyes wide with sick fascination.
Sirius’s voice dipped into a snarl, soft and guttural as he kept moving forward, students parting around him like he was Moses and they were terrified:
“You let me penetrate you.
You let me complicate you.”
Regulus was frozen, blinking fast, panic rising like floodwater. “Someone stop him—”
But no one could move.
Sirius kept coming, eyes locked like twin blades on Regulus alone. The grin hadn’t dropped. Neither had the dark, purring growl of his voice.
“I broke apart my insides.
Help me, I've got no soul to sell.”
Marlene backed into a bench. “Oh my god. He’s saying that to Regulus.”
“Is he…” Lily’s voice cracked. “Is he confessing—?”
“Help me, the only thing that works for me…” Sirius whispered, standing toe-to-toe with his brother now, one hand lifting, hovering just over Regulus’s waist like a threat.
“Help me get away from myself.”
And then, louder, fevered, full-body:
“I wanna fuck you like an animal.”
Screams.
Actual screams.
James dropped his wand.
Pandora clapped both hands over her mouth and squealed like a kettle.
Evan straight-up ran into the wall.
Regulus’s entire body spasmed like he’d been struck by lightning.
Sirius was singing. No—confessing. Possessed. Spell-bound. Raw. Twisted. Seductive. Writhing. And getting closer.
“I wanna feel you from the inside.”
Sirius's fingers hooked into the hem of Regulus’s jumper, not pulling it up, just touching, dragging knuckles across exposed skin. Regulus gasped. His knees buckled. Barty caught him by the elbow, gaping.
Sirius didn’t stop.
“I wanna fuck you like an animal.
My whole existence is flawed.
You get me closer to God.”
“Oh my fucking Merlin,” Mary screeched.
“What the hell kind of spell is this?!” Dorcas demanded, clutching her wand.
“It was supposed to be embarrassing!” James yelled. “Not—incestuous bloody demonic thirst opera!”
Sirius slid around behind Regulus now, dragging his palm over the boy’s thigh as if marking territory. Regulus whimpered. The crowd shrieked again.
“You can have my isolation,” Sirius whispered into his neck, “You can have the hate that it brings.”
Regulus turned and shoved him, but Sirius only staggered slightly, rolling his shoulders like a wolf. Still grinning. Still locked in.
“You can have my absence of faith.
You can have my everything.”
“He’s unhinged,” Alice whispered, in awe.
“I think he’s in love,” Frank said faintly.
“I think he’s deranged,” Gideon muttered.
Fabian was doubled over laughing. “I’m not stopping him. I want to see if he humps a wall.”
Regulus turned to flee, only for Sirius to spin him back around with one hand on his waist, the other gripping his jaw, thumb sweeping over Regulus’s bottom lip as he leaned in, snarling:
“You tear down my reason.
Help me, it's your sex I can smell.”
The Slytherins all collectively howled. Pandora collapsed into Evan. Barty threw his head back in hysterical laughter. Dorcas shrieked something in French.
Regulus's face went crimson, then ghost-white.
“Help me, you make me perfect,” Sirius whispered, dragging his nose along Regulus’s cheek, nuzzling him like a cat, voice low and dark and reverent.
“Help me become somebody else.”
“Okay!” Lily yelled. “That’s enough! Someone break the fucking spell—”
Remus tried. So did James. Spells fizzled. They just bounced.
Sirius wasn’t slowing down.
“I wanna fuck you like an animal,” he growled again, dragging Regulus back into his chest.
“I wanna feel you from the inside…”
Regulus looked like he might burst into tears. Or flames. Or both.
Sirius licked up his throat.
“I wanna fuck you like an animal.
My whole existence is flawed.”
“—Help—” Regulus squeaked.
“You get me closer to God.”
Then — as if that wasn’t enough — Sirius dragged Regulus into a spin, dipped him like they were dancing, and moaned into his throat:
“You are the reason…” Sirius whispered, nosing against Regulus’s temple, voice so soft, so eerily sincere.
“…I stay alive.”
Silence.
The entire hallway — hundreds of students, dozens of professors who’d come running, portraits, ghosts, Peeves, the bloody suits of armor — frozen. Still.
And Sirius Black smiled, like a god who’d just swallowed lightning.
Then dropped to his knees in front of Regulus and passed out cold.
Someone screamed.
Someone fainted.
Regulus just stood there, trembling, mascara smudged, shirt askew, bite mark on display, staring at the body of the brother who just soul-serenaded him like a possessed rock god.
Barty exhaled:
“Well. That backfired.”
The silence had held for maybe five seconds. A stunned, oxygenless, what-the-fuck-did-we-just-witness sort of silence.
Regulus Black hadn’t moved.
Not once.
He was still exactly where Sirius had dropped—frozen, spine straight, arms limp by his sides, face slack and absolutely expressionless like his soul had been yeeted out of his body and replaced with a 404 Error. Like he had blue-screened. Like he was no longer online. Like someone had pulled the plug and left nothing but a pretty, stunned husk in sexy Slytherin layers and mouth-watering collarbone detail.
And then the screaming began.
It was a wave. An audible earthquake of chaos.
“WHAT—”
“Oh my actual god—”
“DID HE JUST—”
“YOU CAN’T DO THAT TO YOUR BROTHER—”
“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT SONG—”
“PERVERTED SEX SPELL! HE CAST A PERVERTED SEX SPELL—”
“I NEED TO WASH MY EARS WITH ACID—”
“HE LICKED HIM. HE LICKED HIS BROTHER.”
Students scattered like fireworks going off in a library. Girls shrieked. Boys jumped back like Regulus was about to combust. Peeves was cackling, rolling across the ceiling, crying with laughter. Filch ran by yelling something about perversion and family disgrace. Professors were trying to shove through the horde like salmon against the tide. And the painting of Sir Cadogan had literally fainted off the wall.
But Regulus?
Still.
Unmoving.
Eyes locked to some point far, far away.
Hands twitching.
Mouth just slightly parted like he’d forgotten how to close it.
“Reg?” Barty tried, waving a hand in front of his face. “Regulus, baby, are you still here? Blink once if your brain hasn’t fully exploded.”
No response.
Dorcas snapped her fingers next to his ear. “Helloooo?”
Nothing.
Pandora shook his shoulder. “Reg, what’s my name?”
Regulus made a very faint choking noise.
“Okay,” Evan muttered. “He’s bricked. We fully bricked him.”
And then—
A groan.
From the floor.
Sirius Black stirred like someone rising from the grave, blinking slow and heavy, fingers twitching, tongue running across his lips like he’d just eaten something delicious.
James practically leapt over the fallen bench. “DO NOT—SIRIUS—STAY DOWN—”
But it was too late.
Sirius pushed himself upright with a grunt, dazed and tousled, looking around like a man who just woke up from a really vivid wet dream in the middle of a royal court hearing. His eyes finally landed on Regulus.
“Oh,” he rasped. Then smirked. “Hi.”
Regulus’s soul left his body again.
Sirius groaned and grabbed for the nearest sturdy thing to haul himself up with—which just so happened to be Regulus’s thighs.
Gasps.
Screams.
Multiple bets lost.
Someone dropped a wand.
Sirius grunted, forehead thunking against Reg’s stomach as he used the poor boy as scaffolding, hands sliding up to his hips like this was normal, like this was fine, like this was just an ordinary fucking Tuesday.
Regulus finally snapped out of his daze with a strangled shriek. “DON’T—GET—OFF ME—”
He tried to dart. Sirius growled.
And then, in one horrific motion, Sirius dragged him back and wrapped around him like a cursed octopus, one hand locking across Reg’s front, the other trapping his arms to his sides, dragging him bodily into his chest like a hungry bear claiming its prey.
Regulus squealed. “LET GO OF ME YOU FUCKING LUNATIC—”
His legs kicked. Sirius’s knees trapped them. Pressed them tight. Regulus squirmed and wiggled and thrashed, but he was stuck, legs sandwiched between Sirius’s like a goddamn folding chair, arms completely pinned, chest crushed against chest, and face—
Sirius shoved Regulus’s face directly into his neck.
“Mmhph—!”
“Shhh, shhh,” Sirius cooed, breathless and delighted, grinning against his temple. “There’s my pretty baby brother. My favorite little animal.”
“MMMPH—!”
“Shhh, shhh,” Sirius chuckled again, rocking them slightly, petting Regulus’s hair like he was cradling a particularly squirmy kitten. “You’re fine. You’re so fine. You’re so pretty. So perfect. I finally got you in my arms, Reggie, and you feel so good—Merlin’s balls you smell like ambrosia—”
“—MMMRRMPPH—!”
No one could see Regulus’s face anymore. No one could understand what he was saying. But the noises—the muffled screaming, the choked wails, the panicked squeaks—spoke volumes.
His hands were clawing, digging at Sirius’s shirt, trying to wriggle his fingers into any angle to maim him.
It didn’t work.
Sirius just cooed and snuggled closer.
“Be good, sweetheart,” Sirius whispered into his ear, voice low and threatening like a wolf hiding knives under its tongue. “Be good for big brother.”
Regulus tried to bite him.
Sirius just groaned, like that was the hottest thing to happen to him all year.
“Mmm, feisty,” he muttered. “So pretty when you struggle. Gonna have to hold you like this forever, huh? No escape. Not after that song. You heard it, didn’t you? You heard it.”
Regulus squealed again, whole body jerking.
More muffled wails.
His legs kicked violently, but he still couldn’t get leverage.
Sirius’s grip was iron.
“You’re mine now,” Sirius whispered, grinning feral. “I said it. Everyone heard. You get me closer to God. Isn’t that poetic? I’m so proud of you. So proud of me. Look at us.”
No one was breathing.
Remus looked like he was about to cry.
James was actively trying to pull his hair out.
Peter had curled into the fetal position.
Lily was reciting prayers.
Marlene had her wand half-drawn and aimed at both of them.
Mary had fainted.
Fabian and Gideon were just filming.
Pandora whispered: “He’s going to fuck him in the hallway. He’s going to mount him like a feral elk—”
“Shut up,” Evan hissed.
“Should we—like—intervene?” Alice asked weakly.
“No,” Frank said immediately. “I want to see how this ends.”
And Regulus, poor, trapped Regulus, was squealing like a barn owl, head buried in Sirius’s neck, thrashing in tiny ineffective squiggles, squeaking and growling and clawing at skin and biting at muscle and trying to wriggle down to the floor and failing at everything. Every now and then a full-bodied MMPH would rattle from his throat like he was trying to say something very important and probably obscene, but the only person who could hear was Sirius, who moaned at every sound.
“You can scream all you want, baby,” Sirius whispered with a smug little grin. “They can’t hear you now.”
And then he smacked a kiss to Regulus’s temple. Another to the crown of his head. And another. And another. Like a deranged lovestruck octopus.
The entire hallway was still. Horrified. Enchanted. Terrified.
Regulus let out a final, muffled, rage-filled shriek.
Peeves whispered reverently: “This is the best day of my life.”
Steam from the scarlet engine billowed across Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, curling through the air in thick white clouds that smelled faintly of metal and coal. Owls hooted from their cages. Cats slunk between trunks. Parents shouted last-minute reminders over the din.
Students clustered everywhere in clumps of robes and laughter.
Summer stories bounced across the platform like sparks.
James Potter had his foot propped on his trunk, animatedly waving his hands while talking.
“I’m telling you,” James insisted loudly, pushing his glasses up his nose, “the broom was definitely cursed. There’s no other explanation for why it tried to throw me into the orchard.”
Mary Macdonald snorted. “James, you tried to fly it after three butterbeers.”
“That’s irrelevant.”
“That’s the only relevant part.”
Marlene McKinnon laughed, leaning against a pillar while Frank Longbottom attempted to calm an extremely offended owl.
Fabian and Gideon Prewett were arguing loudly about Quidditch scores from the previous year, both talking over each other while Remus Lupin watched with quiet amusement.
Peter Pettigrew hovered nearby, nodding eagerly at everything James said.
Lily Evans stood with her arms crossed, though there was a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she listened to the noise.
It had been months since they’d all seen each other.
Energy crackled in the air.
“Oi,” Gideon said suddenly, squinting down the platform. “You lot see those two?”
James turned.
Near the edge of the platform, standing slightly apart from the bustle of families and students, were two boys.
They were about their age.
But something about them looked… wrong.
Not wrong exactly.
Just out of place.
The taller one stood straight-backed and rigid, his arm slung possessively around the shoulders of the boy beside him. His posture radiated tension.
His expression was dark.
Cold.
He looked openly irritated by the entire platform.
The shorter boy beside him was the opposite.
Quiet.
Small.
He leaned into the taller one like gravity itself had decided he belonged there. His hands lightly gripped the front of the other boy’s coat.
His expression was distant.
Almost blank.
Remus frowned slightly.
“Have you seen them before?”
“Nope,” Marlene said.
“New transfers?” Alice suggested.
Lily shook her head. “In fifth year? That’s odd.”
The taller boy glanced around the platform with barely disguised contempt.
The shorter one simply watched the ground.
“Well,” James said, clapping his hands together. “Guess we’ll go introduce ourselves.”
The group crossed the platform.
As they approached, the taller boy noticed immediately.
His posture stiffened.
His eyes narrowed.
Then, very deliberately, he shifted.
The movement was subtle but unmistakable.
He pushed the shorter boy behind him.
Protectively.
The shorter boy blinked, then quietly clutched the back of his coat while peeking over his shoulder.
James stopped a few feet away, raising both hands casually.
“Hey,” he said easily. “You two heading to Hogwarts?”
The taller boy stared at them like they were insects.
Remus cleared his throat politely.
“We just haven’t seen you around before.”
Silence stretched.
Then the taller boy scoffed.
His voice, when he spoke, was sharp and aristocratic.
“Of course you haven’t.”
The shorter boy’s fingers tightened slightly in the fabric of his coat.
The taller boy glanced back briefly.
His entire expression changed.
The anger softened instantly.
His hand reached back without even looking and rested gently against the shorter boy’s wrist.
“You’re fine,” he murmured softly.
The tone was completely different.
Quiet.
Affectionate.
Then he looked back at the group.
The softness vanished.
“We were raised privately.”
James blinked.
“Privately?”
“Our grandfather,” the boy said coldly, “refused to send us to Hogwarts.”
Mary frowned.
“What?”
The boy lifted his chin.
“We were raised in isolation at our family estate.”
His lip curled faintly.
“Our grandfather preferred to teach us himself.”
“Wait,” Lily said slowly. “You mean you’ve never been to school before?”
The boy looked offended by the very idea.
“Obviously not.”
Behind him, the shorter boy shifted closer.
He leaned gently into the taller one’s back.
The taller boy’s arm moved instantly, sliding back to wrap around him again.
Possessive.
Protective.
James blinked again.
“Uh… okay. So why now?”
The taller boy looked annoyed.
“Our grandfather died.”
His tone made it clear he found this entire conversation beneath him.
“The Ministry has decided we must attend.”
He looked genuinely disgusted.
“As though we require schooling.”
Marlene exchanged a look with Mary.
“Right.”
Frank scratched the back of his head.
“So… you’re both starting this year?”
“Yes.”
“Same year?”
The boy scoffed again.
“No.”
He gestured behind him.
“My brother is younger.”
The shorter boy peeked over his shoulder again.
His eyes flicked briefly across the group.
Then he quietly buried his face against the taller boy’s shoulder.
The taller boy’s hand slid up to cradle the back of his head.
The movement was automatic.
Gentle.
“Don’t worry,” he murmured quietly to him.
His voice softened again.
“I’m right here.”
The shorter boy nodded faintly.
Remus noticed Lily staring.
James cleared his throat.
“So… uh…”
He smiled.
“We should probably introduce ourselves.”
He gestured around the group.
“James Potter.”
He pointed to Remus.
“Remus Lupin.”
Then Peter.
“Peter Pettigrew.”
He gestured toward the girls.
“Lily Evans, Mary Macdonald, Marlene McKinnon, Alice Fortescue.”
The taller boy watched them with mild disinterest.
Then James asked the obvious question.
“So… what are your names?”
The taller boy inhaled slowly.
Then he said,
“Sirius Black.”
The entire group froze.
Silence.
The name hit like a dropped plate.
Lily’s eyes widened.
“Black?”
James blinked.
“As in—”
“Yes.”
Sirius sounded bored.
“The Black family.”
Fabian nearly choked.
“The Sacred Twenty-Eight Blacks?”
Sirius rolled his eyes.
“Yes.”
Then he turned slightly.
His arm pulled the smaller boy forward.
The shorter boy stumbled slightly but immediately leaned back into him.
Sirius’s hand slid down to hold his waist.
His voice softened again.
“And this is my little brother.”
The boy looked up.
Grey eyes.
Pale skin.
Dark curls.
He blinked slowly at the group.
“Sirius…” he murmured quietly.
Sirius smiled instantly.
“Yes, darling?”
The group exchanged alarmed looks.
The shorter boy hesitated.
Then said softly,
“…too many people.”
Sirius immediately pulled him closer.
“It’s fine.”
His fingers brushed through the boy’s curls.
“They’re not touching you.”
The shorter boy nodded faintly.
Satisfied.
Sirius looked back at the group.
“This,” he said, “is Regulus.”
Regulus Black stood quietly beside him.
His hands clung to Sirius’s coat.
James stared.
“You’re the Blacks?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve never been to Hogwarts?”
“No.”
“Your grandfather taught you?”
“Yes.”
“And now you’re starting in—”
“Fifth year,” Sirius said, clearly annoyed.
He gestured down at Regulus.
“He will be in fourth.”
Mary stared at the two of them.
They were still standing incredibly close.
Regulus’s hands hadn’t left Sirius’s coat.
Sirius’s arm hadn’t left Regulus’s waist.
They looked… attached.
James tilted his head.
“So you two just… lived alone together?”
“Yes.”
“In a castle?”
“Yes.”
“With your grandfather?”
“Yes.”
James blinked.
“…huh.”
Regulus shifted slightly.
Sirius immediately noticed.
“What is it?”
Regulus looked at the ground.
“…train’s loud.”
Sirius frowned.
“Does it hurt?”
Regulus nodded faintly.
Sirius sighed.
“Come here.”
He pulled Regulus closer.
Regulus practically folded into him.
Sirius pressed a kiss to the top of his head.
The entire Gryffindor group stared.
Sirius didn’t notice.
Or didn’t care.
“You’re alright,” he murmured softly.
Regulus nodded again.
Then Sirius looked back at the group.
His expression turned smug.
“Regulus is brilliant, by the way.”
He gestured at him proudly.
“Top marks in every subject.”
Regulus blinked.
Sirius continued.
“He reads six languages.”
Regulus looked mildly embarrassed.
“He plays piano.”
Regulus looked at the ground.
“He’s perfect.”
Sirius smiled down at him like he’d hung the moon.
Regulus leaned into him again.
James opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
“…right.”
Sirius tilted his head smugly.
“He’s also mine.”
Lily blinked.
“…your brother.”
“Yes.”
Sirius said it like it was obvious.
“Mine.”
His arm tightened slightly around Regulus.
Regulus didn’t react.
He simply rested his head against Sirius’s shoulder.
Sirius glanced down at him again.
“Reg.”
“Yes?”
“Hold my hand.”
Regulus immediately obeyed.
Their fingers intertwined without hesitation.
James looked at Remus.
Remus looked deeply concerned.
Peter looked confused.
Marlene whispered to Mary,
“Is that normal?”
Mary whispered back,
“No.”
Sirius ignored them entirely.
He lifted Regulus’s hand slightly.
“Stay next to me.”
“I always do.”
Sirius smiled.
Then he said casually,
“If anyone tries to touch him, I’ll hex them.”
The group went quiet.
Regulus didn’t react.
He simply nodded faintly.
“Yes.”
Sirius brushed his thumb across Regulus’s knuckles.
“Good.”
Then the whistle blew.
The Hogwarts Express roared.
Steam erupted across the platform.
Students began rushing toward the train.
Sirius glanced at it with clear disdain.
Then he looked at Regulus.
“Come.”
Regulus followed instantly.
Without question.
Sirius pulled him along by the hand.
The Gryffindors watched them go.
James exhaled slowly.
“…what the hell was that.”
Remus rubbed his temples.
“I think we just met the Black brothers.”
Mary stared after them.
“They’re weird.”
Marlene nodded.
“Very weird.”
Lily crossed her arms.
“They’ve been isolated their entire lives.”
She frowned.
“That kind of upbringing…”
She trailed off.
Remus finished quietly.
“…changes people.”
Ahead of them, Sirius pulled Regulus up the steps of the train.
Regulus followed easily.
Their fingers never separated.
And Sirius didn’t let go.
For several seconds after the brothers disappeared into the train, the group simply stood there.
Steam curled through the platform.
Students rushed past them with trunks and cages and loud laughter.
But none of them moved.
James blinked.
“…did anyone else see that.”
“Unfortunately,” Marlene muttered.
Peter scratched his head. “Are they… always like that?”
“We’ve known them for exactly two minutes,” Lily said flatly.
Frank looked toward the train doors.
“…we should probably go.”
But nobody moved.
Remus was staring thoughtfully down the platform where the two brothers had disappeared.
“They’ve never been outside their home before.”
Mary frowned.
“What?”
“That’s what he said.”
Remus folded his arms.
“Raised in isolation. No school. No social contact.”
Alice looked unsettled.
“…that’s not normal.”
“No,” Remus said quietly.
“It isn’t.”
James suddenly clapped his hands together.
“Well then.”
Everyone looked at him.
James grinned.
“We have to follow them.”
Lily blinked.
“…what.”
“We have to.”
“James—”
“You can’t just drop something like that and expect me not to investigate.”
Marlene pointed toward the train.
“You want to interrogate the creepy Black brothers?”
“I want answers.”
Fabian nodded eagerly.
“I also want answers.”
Gideon grinned.
“I mostly want to see what happens.”
Remus sighed.
But he was already picking up his trunk.
“Fine.”
Mary groaned.
“Oh Merlin.”
—
The Hogwarts Express was packed.
Students crowded the corridors, dragging trunks and arguing over seats.
The group split slightly, peering through compartment windows as they walked down the train.
“Not here,” Gideon said.
“Not there either,” Fabian added.
Peter opened another door.
“Nope.”
Marlene checked another.
“No Blacks.”
James pushed open the next compartment door.
Empty.
They kept moving.
Further down the train.
Another door slid open.
Remus froze.
“…found them.”
Everyone crowded behind him.
Inside the compartment, the two brothers were curled together in the far corner.
Exactly like before.
Sirius was sitting against the window with his legs stretched along the bench.
Regulus was curled in his lap.
Not just sitting beside him.
In his lap.
Folded against him like he belonged there.
Regulus’s arms were loosely around Sirius’s waist.
His cheek rested against Sirius’s collarbone.
His eyes were half-lidded.
Calm.
Quiet.
Content.
Sirius had one arm wrapped tightly around him.
His other hand was gently brushing through Regulus’s curls.
His expression was soft.
Completely different from the arrogant glare from earlier.
He was smiling.
“You comfortable?” Sirius murmured.
Regulus nodded slightly.
“Mhm.”
Sirius pressed a gentle kiss into his hair.
“Good.”
Then the door slid open.
Sirius’s head snapped around.
The softness vanished instantly.
His entire expression hardened.
“What,” he snapped.
The Gryffindors awkwardly shuffled into the doorway.
James raised a hand.
“Hey again.”
Sirius’s lip curled.
“You again.”
He immediately pulled Regulus tighter against his chest.
Shielding him.
Regulus blinked sleepily and glanced toward the group.
“Oh.”
Sirius glared at them.
“Why are you here.”
James stepped inside anyway.
“We just wanted to talk.”
“Leave.”
“Or ask some questions.”
“Leave.”
The rest of the group slowly filtered into the compartment and sat down anyway.
Sirius looked deeply offended.
“You people are incredibly irritating.”
He tightened his arms around Regulus again.
Regulus simply adjusted slightly on his lap.
Still clinging to him.
Mary cleared her throat.
“So…”
Sirius glared.
“Yes?”
“Your grandfather really kept you locked away your entire lives?”
“Yes.”
Regulus spoke softly.
“He didn’t like people.”
Sirius immediately looked down at him.
“Reg—”
“It’s alright,” Regulus said quietly.
Sirius frowned.
But Regulus looked back at the group.
“He thought society was… corrupt.”
His voice was soft.
Hesitant.
“He said Hogwarts would ruin us.”
James blinked.
“So he just… kept you home?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“France.”
Everyone blinked.
“France?” Fabian repeated.
Regulus nodded slightly.
“Our estate was there.”
Sirius sighed.
“He thought Britain was a cesspit.”
Gideon raised a brow.
“…and France isn’t?”
Sirius glared at him.
Regulus continued quietly.
“He taught us magic himself.”
“Everything?”
“Yes.”
Remus leaned forward slightly.
“That’s… impressive.”
Sirius huffed.
“Obviously.”
Regulus shifted slightly in his lap.
Sirius adjusted automatically, pulling him closer.
“What happened to your parents?” Lily asked gently.
Regulus went quiet.
Sirius’s jaw tightened.
“They died.”
His tone made it clear the conversation should end there.
Regulus spoke again anyway.
“An accident.”
Sirius frowned.
“Reg—”
“It’s alright.”
Regulus rested his head back against Sirius’s shoulder.
“They died when I was little.”
The compartment went quiet.
“So your grandfather raised you,” Alice said softly.
“Yes.”
“But he didn’t actually… spend time with you?” Remus asked carefully.
Regulus shook his head faintly.
“He traveled a lot.”
Sirius scoffed.
“He ignored us.”
Regulus glanced at him.
“He was busy.”
“He abandoned us.”
“Sirius.”
Sirius looked irritated.
Regulus gently squeezed his sleeve.
“It’s alright.”
Sirius huffed.
But he relaxed slightly.
James rubbed the back of his neck.
“So when he died…”
Sirius’s expression darkened again.
“The Ministry interfered.”
“They said we had to attend Hogwarts.”
“Which,” Sirius added bitterly, “is ridiculous.”
Regulus nodded faintly.
“Sirius became head of the family.”
Frank blinked.
“…you’re serious.”
“Yes.”
Sirius looked proud.
“I am Lord Black.”
The Gryffindors stared.
Mary muttered under her breath.
“Merlin help us.”
Meanwhile Sirius was glaring at them again.
“You’re asking far too many questions.”
Regulus tilted his head slightly.
“They’re curious.”
Sirius frowned.
“They shouldn’t be.”
Regulus looked back at the group.
“You can ask.”
Sirius made a deeply offended noise.
“Regulus.”
Regulus blinked.
“Yes?”
“You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am.”
“Then stop talking to them.”
Regulus looked confused.
“But they asked.”
Sirius groaned.
Then suddenly he pulled Regulus closer.
Before anyone could react, Sirius buried his face against Regulus’s neck and dragged him tightly into his chest.
Regulus disappeared against him.
“Sirius—”
“Stop talking.”
Regulus’s voice came muffled.
“…alright.”
The entire compartment stared.
Regulus was now completely curled against Sirius.
His arms loosely wrapped around Sirius’s shoulders.
His face hidden in Sirius’s neck.
Sirius looked satisfied.
“There.”
James blinked slowly.
“…okay.”
Marlene leaned toward Mary.
“…are we seeing this.”
“Yes.”
Remus rubbed his temples.
“This is concerning.”
Sirius heard that.
His head snapped up.
“What did you say.”
Remus spoke calmly.
“I said it’s concerning.”
“Why.”
Mary cleared her throat.
“Well.”
She gestured vaguely.
“The… dynamic.”
Sirius looked offended.
“What dynamic.”
Fabian muttered quietly,
“They’re trauma bonded.”
Remus nodded slightly.
“That’s likely.”
Lily added softly,
“Isolation can create… unhealthy attachment patterns.”
Peter whispered,
“Broken love maps.”
Sirius went completely still.
Then his eyes narrowed dangerously.
“Are you analysing me.”
The entire group froze.
“Yes,” James said honestly.
Sirius looked furious.
“You people are insufferable.”
His grip on Regulus tightened.
“You don’t know anything about us.”
Regulus sighed softly.
He lifted his head from Sirius’s neck.
Sirius immediately looked down.
“Reg—”
“It’s alright.”
Regulus gently touched his face.
Sirius looked annoyed.
“They’re being irritating.”
“I know.”
Regulus leaned up slightly.
Then he kissed Sirius’s cheek.
Soft.
Affectionate.
“Calm down.”
Sirius immediately melted.
His entire posture softened.
“There you are,” he murmured softly.
His hand moved up to cradle Regulus’s face.
“My sweet boy.”
Regulus smiled faintly.
Sirius kissed his hair.
“Don’t worry about them.”
Regulus nodded.
The Gryffindors stared in horror.
Mary slapped a hand over her mouth.
Fabian whispered loudly,
“WHAT.”
Marlene grabbed Lily’s arm.
“DID YOU SEE THAT.”
Peter looked like he might faint.
James whispered,
“WHAT IS HAPPENING.”
Remus stared at the ceiling.
“Oh Merlin.”
Meanwhile Sirius was smiling softly down at Regulus again.
“Better?”
Regulus nodded.
“Yes.”
Sirius kissed his temple.
“Good.”
The compartment erupted into chaos.
The compartment had not recovered.
Not even slightly.
The air still felt tense with disbelief.
The Gryffindors sat frozen in various positions of shock while Sirius Black appeared completely unconcerned with their continued presence.
In fact—
He seemed to have forgotten they were there.
Regulus remained curled on his lap, small and relaxed, his arms loosely looped around Sirius’s waist while Sirius leaned slightly into the corner of the seat.
His fingers were lazily combing through Regulus’s dark curls.
“You’re comfortable?” Sirius murmured softly.
Regulus nodded against his shoulder.
“Yes.”
Sirius smiled faintly.
“Good.”
His voice had dropped into the same soft tone from earlier.
The tone that seemed to exist only for Regulus.
“You should rest.”
“I’m not tired.”
“You look tired.”
Regulus hummed quietly.
Sirius brushed a curl away from his face.
“You’re always so pretty when you’re sleepy.”
Across the compartment, Marlene choked.
Mary slapped a hand over her mouth.
James leaned toward Remus and whispered hoarsely,
“Is he serious right now?”
Remus whispered back,
“I wish he wasn’t.”
But Sirius continued talking like no one else existed.
His thumb gently traced along Regulus’s jaw.
“My perfect boy.”
Regulus blinked slowly.
Sirius smiled.
“You are.”
He tilted his head slightly, studying him with clear adoration.
“I swear you’re divine.”
Mary made a strangled sound.
Sirius ignored it completely.
“You must be,” he continued softly. “No one could be this perfect otherwise.”
Regulus looked mildly embarrassed.
“Sirius…”
“Don’t argue.”
His fingers brushed down Regulus’s cheek.
“You’re angelic.”
Marlene whispered loudly,
“ANGELIC.”
Sirius didn’t even glance at them.
“You’re better than everyone in this entire world.”
He sounded completely sincere.
“Better than anyone who will ever exist.”
Regulus rested his cheek against Sirius’s chest again.
“You always say that.”
“Because it’s true.”
Sirius kissed the top of his head.
“My pretty boy.”
James leaned back in his seat.
“…what the hell.”
Fabian whispered,
“Does he hear himself?”
Gideon muttered,
“I don’t think he cares.”
Meanwhile Sirius continued gently stroking Regulus’s hair.
“You belong with me.”
Regulus hummed softly.
“Yes.”
Sirius smiled contentedly.
“My perfect little brother.”
Mary whispered to Lily,
“This is deeply concerning.”
Lily nodded stiffly.
Sirius tilted Regulus’s chin up slightly.
“No one else deserves you.”
Regulus blinked calmly.
“Probably not.”
Sirius’s grin widened.
“Exactly.”
Across the compartment Peter whispered,
“Did he just agree with that?”
Remus rubbed his forehead.
“Yes.”
Sirius continued murmuring softly to Regulus.
“They’re all beneath you anyway.”
Regulus shrugged faintly.
“Most people are.”
James choked.
“EXCUSE ME.”
Sirius ignored him.
“None of them could ever deserve you.”
Regulus lightly played with the edge of Sirius’s sleeve.
“That seems dramatic.”
“It isn’t.”
Sirius kissed his temple again.
“You’re mine.”
Mary whispered,
“OH MY GOD.”
Sirius glanced at Regulus again with clear fondness.
“You’re the most beautiful thing in the world.”
Regulus blinked slowly.
“Sirius.”
“What.”
“You say that a lot.”
“Because it’s still true.”
Fabian leaned over to Gideon.
“I think we’re witnessing something illegal.”
Gideon whispered back,
“I’m pretty sure this violates several social rules.”
Remus murmured quietly,
“It’s an extreme attachment response.”
Mary nodded rapidly.
“Definitely.”
Lily added under her breath,
“They literally only had each other growing up.”
James gestured wildly at the brothers.
“Yes and now we’re seeing the result.”
Meanwhile Sirius sighed contentedly.
“Honestly I’m glad the old man died.”
The compartment went silent again.
Regulus glanced up at him.
“You are?”
“Yes.”
Sirius sounded extremely pleased about it.
“He was irritating.”
Mary blinked.
“That’s… one way to describe your grandfather dying.”
Sirius waved a dismissive hand.
“He refused to let me do anything.”
Regulus rested his chin on Sirius’s shoulder.
“What kind of things?”
Sirius smiled slowly.
“Important things.”
James frowned.
“…like what.”
Sirius glanced at him briefly.
Then looked back at Regulus.
“Like arranging our betrothal.”
The entire compartment froze.
Complete silence.
Regulus blinked.
“Oh.”
Mary’s voice cracked.
“WHAT.”
Sirius continued casually.
“The old man wouldn’t allow it.”
He gently tucked Regulus closer into his arms.
“He insisted we marry other families.”
Regulus hummed thoughtfully.
“That does sound inconvenient.”
James made a choking noise.
Sirius nodded.
“Exactly.”
His voice was calm.
“But now I’m Lord Black.”
He smiled faintly.
“I have full authority.”
Peter whispered,
“…authority for what.”
Sirius shrugged.
“Everything.”
He brushed Regulus’s hair again.
“So now I can arrange our betrothal myself.”
The compartment exploded.
“WHAT.”
“YOU CANNOT DO THAT.”
“THAT IS NOT HOW ANYTHING WORKS.”
“ARE YOU INSANE.”
Sirius glared at them all.
“Quiet.”
Regulus blinked calmly.
“Would that upset people?”
James nearly fell out of his seat.
“YES.”
Fabian yelled,
“EXTREMELY.”
Remus pressed a hand to his face.
“Oh Merlin.”
Sirius looked deeply annoyed.
“I don’t see why.”
Lily stared at him.
“Because that’s your brother.”
“Yes.”
Sirius said this like it proved his point.
Mary made a horrified noise.
Sirius tightened his arm around Regulus again.
“Regardless.”
He looked calm again.
“Now that I’m Lord Black I can do whatever I want.”
Regulus rested against him again.
“That sounds convenient.”
“It is.”
Sirius kissed his temple.
“And if anyone tries to flirt with you—”
He paused thoughtfully.
“I’ll kill them.”
The Gryffindors stared.
James whispered hoarsely,
“HE JUST SAID THAT SO CASUALLY.”
Marlene whispered back,
“I THINK HE MEANT IT.”
Sirius continued petting Regulus’s hair.
“Honestly I might kill anyone who even looks at you wrong.”
The air in New Orleans was thick with heat, music, and the kind of electricity that lived only in cities built for celebration.
It was loud.
Loud in a way Hogwarts had never been. Loud in a way London rarely dared to be.
Trumpets blared somewhere down Bourbon Street. Drums rolled like thunder against the old iron balconies. Music bled from open doorways, from marching bands, from bars that glowed purple and green through the night. The scent of sugar, beer, fried dough, and sweat tangled together until the entire street smelled like chaos.
The Gryffindors loved it immediately.
“THIS,” James Potter shouted over the noise, raising a plastic cup full of something violently neon, “is the greatest idea we’ve ever had!”
Fabian Prewett threw an arm around his twin and nearly knocked over a group of tourists.
“Second greatest,” Gideon corrected, already three drinks ahead of everyone else. “First was robbing Hogwarts to steal Sirius’s brother.”
Sirius Black grinned like a man who had just escaped prison.
“Worth it.”
Behind them, Regulus Black trailed a few paces back.
The streets were a river of people. Bodies packed together shoulder to shoulder. Masks glittering in the light. Feathers. Beads. Sequins. Strangers laughing like they’d known each other forever.
Regulus stared.
His pale eyes moved slowly across everything.
The music.
The floats rolling past.
People shouting.
People dancing in the street.
People… throwing things?
He blinked as a strand of purple beads bounced off someone’s head and landed in a stranger’s hands.
“What the—”
Up ahead, Marlene McKinnon shrieked as someone tossed her a handful of green beads from a balcony.
“YES!”
Mary Macdonald nearly tackled her trying to steal them.
“Give me one!”
“Get your own!”
Alice Fortescue clung to Frank Longbottom’s arm as he laughed so hard he nearly spilled his drink.
Remus Lupin was already halfway through a conversation with a group of strangers about jazz music.
Peter Pettigrew was trying to keep up with Fabian and Gideon, which was a losing battle.
And Sirius—
Sirius was already dancing on a curb with James.
Regulus stopped walking.
They hadn’t noticed.
Of course they hadn’t.
They were Gryffindors.
A hurricane of noise and laughter and alcohol.
Regulus wasn’t loud.
He slipped quietly through the crowd behind them, watching.
A float rolled past.
People screamed.
Hands shot into the air.
Beads flew everywhere.
“What is happening,” Regulus muttered.
Someone beside him laughed.
He turned.
A woman leaning against a streetlamp was watching him with amused eyes. She looked like she belonged here in a way Regulus clearly did not—sparkling mask, purple hair, and about twenty strings of beads around her neck.
“You look like someone dropped you here by accident,” she said.
Regulus blinked.
“I might have been kidnapped.”
She burst out laughing.
“Well honey, you got kidnapped to the right place.”
Regulus glanced around again.
“What is this?”
“You serious?”
“Yes.”
She pushed herself off the lamp post.
“Mardi Gras.”
“That doesn’t explain anything.”
She grinned.
“Alright, baby bird. Lesson time.”
Regulus leaned slightly closer so he could hear her over the music.
“Mardi Gras is a festival,” she explained. “Celebration before Lent. But mostly it’s an excuse for this entire city to lose its mind for a few weeks.”
She gestured around.
“The parades. The floats. The music. The drinking.”
Regulus nodded slowly.
“And the beads?”
She lifted a strand around her neck.
“These?”
“Yes.”
“You get them when people throw them from floats or balconies.”
“Why?”
“Because people ask for them.”
Regulus frowned.
“How?”
The woman looked at him like she was deciding whether or not to say something.
Then she leaned in.
“You flash the performers.”
Regulus blinked.
“…flash them.”
“Yeah.”
She lifted her shirt a little to demonstrate the gesture.
“Show some skin. They throw you beads.”
Regulus looked thoughtfully at the dozens around her neck.
“And the better ones?”
“Oh those?”
She smirked.
“People work harder for those.”
Regulus followed her gaze up toward a balcony where someone was dramatically tossing handfuls of beads to a cheering crowd.
“How?”
“Flash better.”
He paused.
Then very matter-of-factly said,
“I have pierced nipples.”
The woman froze.
Then she absolutely lost it laughing.
“Oh my GOD.”
She clutched the railing beside her.
“Honey you are going to be VERY popular tonight.”
Regulus brightened.
“Really?”
“Oh yeah.”
She grabbed one of the bead necklaces from around her neck and handed it to him.
“Starter pack.”
Regulus took it.
“Thank you.”
She shoved a drink into his other hand.
“Now go cause problems.”
Regulus grinned.
And wandered off.
—
For the first few minutes, he just watched.
He stood near a float route while crowds screamed for beads.
A girl flashed someone on a balcony.
Beads rained down.
Regulus tilted his head.
“Ah.”
He waited.
Another group did it.
More beads.
He looked down at the necklace around his neck.
Then up at the balcony.
Then calmly lifted his shirt.
The reaction was instant.
Someone on the balcony screamed.
“OH SHIT—”
Beads exploded into the air.
Regulus blinked as three necklaces smacked him in the chest.
The crowd around him erupted.
“DO IT AGAIN!”
Regulus stared at the beads in his hands.
Then slowly started laughing.
“Oh this is excellent.”
He did it again.
This time the cheering was louder.
People on the balcony nearly fell over throwing things at him.
Within minutes, strangers were pointing.
“THAT GUY!”
“He’s back!”
Regulus had absolutely no shame about it.
Half an hour later—
He was having the time of his life.
Beads hung from his neck like armor.
Purple.
Green.
Gold.
Some were plastic.
Some were glittering.
One had little crowns.
Another had feathers.
Someone had handed him a drink.
Someone else had shouted something he didn’t understand but it made everyone laugh.
Regulus was laughing too.
The alcohol had started to warm his head pleasantly.
He spun in the street, beads clacking together.
“This is brilliant.”
Someone on a float yelled,
“SHOW US AGAIN!”
Regulus shrugged and lifted his shirt.
The float crew lost their minds.
More beads.
People cheered.
Regulus caught one midair and bowed dramatically.
—
Across the street—
James suddenly frowned.
“…wait.”
Sirius was mid-laugh.
“What?”
James looked around.
“…where’s Regulus?”
Sirius froze.
Everyone slowly stopped.
Remus blinked.
“Oh.”
Peter looked confused.
“…wasn’t he behind us?”
Mary looked around.
“He was like—”
She gestured vaguely.
“Somewhere.”
Marlene groaned.
“Oh brilliant.”
Alice clutched Frank’s sleeve.
“Did we lose Sirius’s brother in New Orleans?”
Sirius looked horrified.
“You LOST my brother?!”
“You lost him too!”
“I was drunk!”
“That’s not an excuse!”
Fabian climbed onto a curb.
“REGULUS?”
Nothing.
Gideon spun slowly in a circle.
“Oh this is bad.”
Remus pinched the bridge of his nose.
“We’ve misplaced a sixteen year old in Mardi Gras.”
Sirius looked ready to fight the entire city.
“Split up.”
They scattered.
Five minutes later—
Peter pointed.
“…oh.”
Everyone turned.
Walking casually down the street—
Was Regulus.
Grinning.
Drunk.
And absolutely buried under beads.
They hung from his neck.
His shoulders.
His arms.
There had to be at least forty.
He looked like a walking jewelry store.
The Gryffindors stared.
“…what,” James said slowly, “the fuck.”
Regulus beamed.
“Sirius!”
Sirius looked like his brain had stopped working.
“…why are you wearing half the parade.”
Regulus proudly held up a handful of beads.
“I earned these.”
Mary stared.
“…how.”
Regulus took another sip of his drink.
“You flash people.”
The silence that followed could have killed a dragon.
Then—
Everyone started screaming.
“YOU WHAT?!”
Regulus laughed so hard he nearly dropped his beads.
“It’s very efficient!”
Sirius looked like he might pass out.
“You cannot just FLASH strangers in the street!”
Regulus shrugged.
“They asked.”
James doubled over laughing.
“Oh my GOD.”
Fabian was wheezing.
“This city is incredible.”
Gideon pointed at Regulus.
“Where did you even learn that?!”
Regulus gestured vaguely behind him.
“A nice woman explained it.”
Remus buried his face in his hands.
“Oh no.”
Regulus spun slightly, beads clattering.
“They also throw better ones if you show the piercings.”
The entire group SCREAMED.
“REGULUS!”
He blinked innocently.
“What?”
Sirius was dying.
“You CANNOT just tell people that!”
Regulus grinned.
“But it worked.”
He lifted his arms.
The beads rattled like wind chimes.
“I have so many.”
James wiped tears from his face.
“You disappeared for thirty minutes and came back looking like a Mardi Gras trophy.”
Regulus looked extremely pleased with himself.
“It’s been a wonderful evening.”
Sirius stared at him.
Then groaned and grabbed his face.
“I am never bringing you anywhere again.”
Regulus leaned into the grip, still smiling.
“Yes you will.”
The screaming did not stop.
It simply changed shape.
A moment ago it had been laughter and music and drunken strangers throwing beads from balconies.
Now it was the Gryffindors.
And they were all shouting at once.
“You WHAT?!” Sirius bellowed.
Regulus blinked at him, still smiling faintly, swaying a little under the weight of about forty bead necklaces.
“What?”
“You flashed people!”
“Yes.”
“You flashed strangers!”
“That’s how you get beads.”
James had doubled over again, gripping his stomach.
“I’m going to die,” he wheezed.
Fabian and Gideon were leaning on each other, both shaking with laughter.
“Oh my god,” Fabian gasped. “He’s been here thirty minutes and he’s already better at Mardi Gras than we are.”
Mary crossed her arms dramatically.
“That’s not fair.”
Regulus tilted his head.
“What’s not fair?”
“You have like fifty beads.”
“Forty-two,” Regulus corrected helpfully.
Marlene squinted at the pile draped around his neck.
“How the hell did you get that many?”
Regulus shrugged casually.
“I followed the instructions.”
Alice looked like she was trying very hard not to laugh.
“What instructions?”
Regulus gestured vaguely down the street.
“Flash people.”
Sirius groaned and dragged a hand down his face.
“I regret everything.”
Frank looked at the mountain of beads again.
“…okay but seriously though.”
Everyone turned to him.
“How do we get some?”
The group went quiet.
Regulus blinked.
“Oh.”
He smiled brightly.
“I can help.”
Sirius narrowed his eyes immediately.
“…I don’t trust that tone.”
But Regulus was already moving.
“Come on.”
He slipped through the crowd like a cat weaving between legs, beads clacking softly together as he walked.
The others followed him, confused but curious.
“Where are we going?” Lily asked.
Regulus pointed.
“There.”
Across the street, a wrought-iron balcony leaned over the crowd like a stage.
Three people stood on it with huge tubs of bead necklaces, throwing them to the screaming crowd below.
Regulus stopped beneath them.
Then waved.
The people above didn’t notice at first.
He bounced slightly on his toes and waved again.
“Hello!”
One of them looked down.
Regulus grinned brightly.
The performer leaned over the railing curiously.
“What you got, sweetheart?”
Regulus didn’t say a word.
He simply lifted his shirt.
The reaction was immediate.
“OH DAMN!”
Beads exploded over the balcony.
They rained down like colorful hail.
The Gryffindors screamed as necklaces bounced off their heads and shoulders.
James caught one midair.
“WHAT THE—”
Mary shrieked as three landed around her neck.
Marlene ducked as another smacked her in the face.
“Jesus!”
Fabian grabbed two handfuls.
“I LOVE THIS CITY!”
Regulus calmly lowered his shirt again.
More beads dropped.
He caught several and turned back toward the group.
“Here.”
He handed them out like party favors.
“Take some.”
They stared at him.
Sirius stared at his chest.
“…when did you get those.”
Regulus blinked.
“Oh.”
He glanced down.
“You mean the piercings?”
The entire group leaned closer.
Two small silver bars glinted briefly under the street lights.
James made a noise somewhere between choking and hysterical laughter.
“You have nipple piercings?!”
Regulus nodded casually.
“Mm.”
Mary looked scandalized.
“Since when?!”
“Last summer.”
Sirius looked like someone had just told him the moon exploded.
“LAST SUMMER?”
Regulus shrugged.
“They’re not that dramatic.”
Fabian pointed.
“They absolutely are!”
Gideon leaned closer, fascinated.
“That’s metal.”
Regulus smiled.
“I like them.”
Marlene was still clutching the beads that had landed on her.
“…okay but you said you got these earlier.”
She gestured at the massive pile around his neck.
Regulus nodded.
“Yes.”
“And it was just that?”
“Well…”
He paused.
Then started chuckling.
The sound was small and slightly embarrassed.
“Actually.”
The group stared.
“What.”
Regulus rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.
“I might have gotten a bit… enthusiastic earlier.”
Sirius closed his eyes.
“I hate that sentence.”
James leaned forward eagerly.
“No no wait this is going to be good.”
Regulus glanced around, lowering his voice slightly.
“There was a float.”
“Yes?”
“And people started asking about the piercings.”
Remus sighed quietly.
“Oh dear.”
Regulus continued, still smiling awkwardly.
“And I accidentally mentioned that I had more.”
The silence lasted two seconds.
“…more,” Mary repeated slowly.
Regulus nodded.
James blinked.
“…Regulus.”
“Yes?”
“What other piercings.”
Regulus coughed.
“Jacob’s ladder.”
The world exploded.
“YOU WHAT?!”
Sirius screamed so loudly several strangers turned to stare.
James collapsed against a streetlamp.
“Oh my GOD.”
Marlene was shrieking.
“You flashed your DICK?!”
Regulus covered his face briefly, laughing.
“It was an accident!”
“AN ACCIDENT?!”
“They asked!”
Fabian looked like he might faint.
“You showed an entire FLOAT your penis?!”
Regulus was red now but still giggling.
“They were very supportive!”
Gideon leaned against James, wheezing.
“How many beads did you get.”
Regulus gestured at himself.
“This many.”
Mary grabbed her head.
“I’m losing my mind.”
Alice looked horrified.
“You’re going to get arrested!”
Regulus blinked.
“…why?”
“Because you exposed yourself!”
Regulus looked genuinely confused.
“I don’t think that’s illegal here.”
Sirius looked ready to scream again.
“REGULUS—”
But Regulus was already shaking his head.
“No no it’s fine.”
He pointed down the street.
“I even got beads from some police officers.”
Everyone froze.
“…what.”
“They were working security,” Regulus said calmly. “They thought it was funny.”
Remus stared at the sky like he was begging for patience.
“This city is lawless.”
Regulus shrugged.
“And people were doing much worse.”
Sirius looked terrified.
“…worse?”
Regulus nodded.
“Some couples were shagging on balconies.”
The Gryffindors erupted again.
“WHAT?!”
“No one cared,” Regulus continued thoughtfully. “People were cheering.”
James wiped tears from his face again.
“This place is insane.”
Regulus nodded cheerfully.
“I like it.”
He paused.
Then added casually,
“Some guys asked if I wanted to join them.”
The silence was immediate.
Sirius went very still.
“…what guys.”
Regulus waved vaguely down the street.
“Some people around our age.”
James squinted.
“…doing what.”
Regulus shrugged.
“They had a balcony.”
That was worse.
“REGULUS.”
“They said they could pass me around.”
The group SCREAMED.
“ABSOLUTELY NOT!”
Regulus blinked at the noise.
“What?”
Sirius grabbed both sides of his face.
“You are NOT going to some random balcony to get passed around by strangers!”
Regulus tilted his head thoughtfully.
“They were very tall.”
“NO.”
“And they had nice accents.”
“REGULUS.”
“The New Orleans accent is very charming.”
“REGULUS!”
He laughed.
“I’m joking!”
Sirius looked like he might collapse.
“…you’re joking.”
Regulus grinned.
“Mostly.”
James started screaming again.
“Oh my GOD.”
Fabian leaned on Gideon.
“This night just keeps getting better.”
Remus shook his head slowly.
“We cannot lose him again.”
Regulus smiled sweetly.
“I won’t wander off.”
Sirius narrowed his eyes.
“You absolutely will.”
Regulus just lifted another handful of beads and tossed them over Sirius’s head.
“Lighten up.”
And somewhere above them—
A balcony full of strangers shouted,
“BEAD GUY!”
By the time the night truly swallowed the streets, New Orleans had stopped feeling like a city.
It felt like a living thing.
Music crawled through every alley and curled around every balcony. The pavement vibrated beneath marching drums somewhere blocks away. Trumpets wailed. People laughed with strangers like they had known them for years.
And everywhere—
Everywhere—
There were beads.
Regulus Black had become something of a legend.
The Gryffindors had noticed the change first in the way strangers pointed.
Then in the way balconies leaned over railings.
Then in the way people started shouting when he walked past.
“BEAD GUY!”
Regulus laughed every single time.
At some point someone had shoved a drink in his hand again.
Then someone else had handed Fabian a plastic cup.
Then another stranger had spun Marlene around in the street until she was laughing so hard she nearly fell over.
The night had dissolved into movement.
Into noise.
Into the simple reckless joy of being young and unsupervised in a city that encouraged bad decisions.
James was dancing with a group of college students.
Peter had somehow ended up in the middle of a street game involving plastic rings and beer bottles.
Remus was laughing with a brass band that had adopted him like a long-lost cousin.
Frank and Alice were sharing a drink and watching the madness like anthropologists.
And Sirius—
Sirius had resigned himself to the chaos.
His younger brother was not behaving like a kidnapped teenager.
Regulus was behaving like he had been born for Mardi Gras.
The beads had multiplied.
He was absolutely drowning in them now.
Gold.
Purple.
Green.
Metallic ones.
Glitter ones.
A few enormous novelty strands that clacked loudly when he walked.
He had draped several over Fabian’s neck earlier.
Then tossed three to Mary.
Then looped a few around Marlene’s shoulders.
The rest remained piled around him like armor.
Fabian whined loudly.
“This is still unfair.”
Regulus tilted his head.
“What is?”
“You have like fifty more than us.”
“Forty-seven.”
Marlene pointed at his chest.
“You’re a menace.”
Regulus smiled lazily, his cheeks warm from alcohol and laughter.
“You could always join me.”
Fabian looked at him.
“…join you how.”
Regulus simply lifted his shirt again.
A cheer erupted from a balcony nearby.
More beads rained down.
Fabian stared at the necklaces hitting the pavement.
Then at Regulus.
Then back at the beads.
“…okay I’m convinced.”
Sirius turned sharply.
“NO.”
Fabian was already yanking off his shirt.
“YES.”
Gideon howled with laughter.
“Oh my god.”
Marlene snorted.
“You’re such a hypocrite.”
Fabian threw his shirt over his shoulder dramatically.
“Do I look like I care?”
He flashed the balcony.
The reaction was immediate.
Beads rained down again.
Fabian caught two triumphantly.
“HA!”
Marlene stared at the necklaces.
Then glanced down at herself.
She was still wearing her bra.
She shrugged.
“Well.”
And lifted her shirt just enough.
The crowd above went feral.
More beads.
Mary shrieked laughing.
“Oh my GOD.”
Regulus clapped happily.
“You see?”
Fabian threw an arm around his shoulders.
“You’re a terrible influence.”
Regulus grinned.
“Thank you.”
They shared the beads.
None of the others joined.
James had drawn the line somewhere around “public flashing.”
But Fabian and Marlene were having the time of their lives.
Every few minutes Regulus would wander under another balcony.
Or catch the attention of a passing float.
Or flash a roaming performer.
Which—
Occasionally had consequences.
At one point a group of street dancers spotted him.
One of them pointed.
“That’s him!”
Before Regulus could react, someone grabbed his wrist and yanked him into the middle of their routine.
“What—!”
Music exploded from a nearby speaker.
The dancers surrounded him instantly.
“C’mon bead boy!”
Regulus burst into laughter.
“I don’t know this dance!”
“YOU DO NOW!”
They spun him.
Someone dipped him dramatically.
The crowd roared.
Regulus was cackling so hard he nearly fell over.
When they finally released him, his hair was a mess and he had somehow acquired five more necklaces.
Fabian applauded.
“You’re becoming part of the ecosystem.”
Regulus bowed.
“I try.”
They wandered the streets for what felt like hours.
Drinking.
Laughing.
Dancing.
Playing ridiculous street games with strangers.
At one point James tried to win a stuffed alligator and failed spectacularly.
At another, Gideon convinced a marching band to play a dramatic fanfare for absolutely no reason.
The entire city seemed to pulse with celebration.
And Regulus—
Regulus had drifted slightly ahead of the group again.
Not far.
Just enough to wander freely.
He had just finished laughing with a group of performers when suddenly—
Two arms wrapped around his waist.
And he was lifted straight off the ground.
“THERE HE IS!”
Regulus yelped.
The world spun as the stranger lifted him and twirled him in a circle.
The man holding him was tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Laughing loudly and clearly very drunk.
Regulus blinked.
Then recognition hit.
“Oh!”
He burst into delighted laughter.
“You!”
The man set him down but kept his hands on his waist.
“Well look who we done found again.”
His voice rolled slowly, the vowels thick and warm with a deep Louisiana drawl.
Behind him—
Three more men pushed through the crowd.
All tall.
All grinning.
“Oh hell,” one of them said. “It’s the bead boy.”
Another leaned over the first man’s shoulder.
“Told y’all he’d still be out here.”
They were clearly the group from earlier.
The ones from the balcony invitation.
Regulus perked up immediately.
“You’re the balcony people!”
One of them laughed.
“That’s us.”
The Gryffindors were already running over.
“What’s happening—”
James stopped mid-sentence.
Sirius froze.
The four strangers were practically surrounding Regulus now.
Not aggressively.
Just close.
Flirting.
Laughing.
Looking very pleased to see him.
“Well damn,” one of them said, tilting his head at the mountain of beads around Regulus’s neck. “You been busy.”
Regulus giggled.
“A little.”
Another one leaned against the railing beside them.
“You sure did put on a show earlier.”
Regulus covered his mouth, laughing again.
“I was enthusiastic.”
The man holding him still had one arm loosely around his waist.
“Well sugar,” he said warmly, “we appreciated it.”
Sirius looked like he might explode.
“Regulus.”
But Regulus wasn’t listening.
Because the accent—
The accent was doing something to his brain.
It rolled and curled around every word.
Slow.
Warm.
Smooth.
The strangers noticed immediately.
One of them leaned closer.
“Well now,” he said softly. “You like the way we talk, don’t you.”
Regulus’s face went red.
“…maybe.”
The men exchanged grins.
“Oh that’s cute.”
“Real cute.”
And suddenly—
The accents got thicker.
“Oh sweetheart,” one of them said slowly, voice dropping like honey. “You ain’t heard nothin’ yet.”
Regulus made a tiny noise.
Fabian slapped a hand over his mouth to keep from screaming.
The men leaned in slightly closer.
“Well look at him,” another drawled. “He meltin’ already.”
Regulus giggled nervously and bit the tip of his finger.
The group absolutely lost their minds.
“OH HE’S BLUSHIN’.”
“That’s adorable.”
“Boy you gonna kill him.”
Regulus was absolutely losing composure now.
“You’re doing that on purpose.”
“Oh we absolutely are,” one of them said proudly.
He leaned down slightly so his voice was right by Regulus’s ear.
“Thought you liked it.”
Regulus squeaked.
James grabbed Remus.
“I cannot watch this.”
Sirius looked homicidal.
“Absolutely not.”
But the men were already grinning wider.
“Well now,” one said slowly, arms crossing. “You still thinkin’ about that balcony invitation?”
Regulus hesitated.
He was absolutely still thinking about it.
He laughed awkwardly.
“…maybe.”
The Gryffindors erupted.
“REGULUS!”
But the strangers only looked more pleased.
“Well damn,” one of them chuckled.
“Looks like we got ourselves a volunteer.”
Regulus giggled again, face completely red.
The accents rolled through the night like velvet.
And he was very clearly—
Very dangerously—
Tempted.
The four men had closed ranks around Regulus without it ever feeling like a trap.
More like gravity.
They moved in slow, easy circles through the Mardi Gras crowd, tall shoulders and easy laughter forming a loose orbit around him while the noise of the street roared on. Music pounded somewhere down the block, trumpets blaring bright and wild, drums rattling the pavement. Beads clattered whenever Regulus shifted, which he did often, swaying a little on his feet from drink and excitement.
He was glowing.
Face flushed pink. Eyes bright. Hair a soft, wind-tangled mess.
And every time one of the men leaned closer and spoke with that thick Louisiana drawl, Regulus practically melted.
“Well now,” the tallest one murmured, folding his arms as he studied the mountain of beads draped over Regulus’s shoulders. “Boy done went and collected half the parade.”
Regulus giggled.
“I worked very hard for these.”
Another one laughed, deep and warm. “We noticed.”
The first man still had a hand resting lightly at Regulus’s waist, steadying him whenever he swayed too far. It was casual, but unmistakably familiar. Like he had already decided Regulus belonged in the circle.
“Y’all got a name, bead boy?” one asked.
Regulus blinked.
“Oh! Right.”
He pushed a few necklaces aside so they stopped clacking together and straightened slightly.
“Regulus.”
The four men exchanged quick glances.
Then one of them let out a low whistle.
“Well that’s a dangerous kinda name.”
Regulus laughed softly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Means you sound like trouble.”
“I am trouble,” Regulus said cheerfully.
That made them all grin.
“Alright then, Regulus.”
The one holding his waist tipped his head slightly.
“Guess we oughta introduce ourselves proper.”
He tapped his chest.
“Name’s Marcus.”
Regulus smiled brightly.
“Nice to meet you—”
Marcus lifted a finger.
“Now hold on.”
Regulus paused.
Marcus leaned down just enough for his voice to drop lower, teasing.
“You don’t call me Marcus.”
Regulus blinked.
“I don’t?”
Marcus shook his head slowly, eyes glinting.
“Nah.”
He leaned a little closer.
“You call me sir.”
Regulus’s brain visibly short-circuited.
“…sir?”
Marcus’s grin widened.
“Mmhm.”
Behind him, Fabian made a strangled choking sound.
James slapped a hand over his mouth.
Regulus, meanwhile, was staring up at Marcus like someone had just handed him a new toy.
“Oh.”
He bit his lip, clearly delighted.
Then he tried it.
“Alright… sir.”
Marcus inhaled sharply.
“Oh hell.”
The other men burst out laughing.
“Boy you’re gonna kill him.”
Regulus giggled, covering his mouth.
“That worked?”
Marcus rubbed a hand down his face, still grinning.
“Yeah sweetheart. That worked.”
Another of the men stepped forward next.
Broad shoulders. Dark curls. Mischievous eyes.
“Name’s Elijah,” he said.
Regulus tilted his head.
“Elijah—”
Elijah wagged a finger.
“Uh-uh.”
Regulus blinked again.
“Oh no.”
Elijah grinned.
“You don’t call me Elijah either.”
“Of course I don’t.”
“What do I call you?”
Elijah leaned down just a little, voice soft and amused.
“Daddy.”
The Gryffindors collectively imploded.
Mary shrieked.
James nearly fell over.
Fabian doubled over wheezing.
Remus just covered his face with both hands.
Regulus, meanwhile, burst into helpless giggles.
“Oh my god.”
Elijah chuckled.
“Try it.”
Regulus looked absolutely delighted.
“Alright…”
He leaned forward slightly, swaying again under the weight of beads.
“…Daddy.”
Elijah groaned.
“Jesus.”
The other men slapped his shoulder while laughing.
“Told you.”
“You asked for that.”
Regulus looked thrilled.
“This is fun.”
The third man stepped forward, shaking his head.
“You’re encouraging him.”
He looked at Regulus.
“Name’s Andre.”
Regulus smiled.
“Andre—”
Andre raised a hand.
“Now hold up.”
Regulus immediately started laughing again.
“Oh no not you too.”
Andre shrugged.
“Rules are rules.”
He leaned in slightly.
“You call me baby.”
Regulus’s eyes went wide.
“Baby?”
Andre winked.
“Mmhm.”
Regulus covered his mouth, shoulders shaking with laughter.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Still gonna say it.”
Regulus looked up at him.
“…baby.”
Andre grinned like he’d just won something.
“Yeah that’s the one.”
The last man stepped forward, the quietest of the group so far but with a crooked smile that suggested he was enjoying the chaos just as much.
He tapped his chest.
“Julian.”
Regulus tilted his head expectantly.
Julian laughed softly.
“Yeah yeah, I got one too.”
“Of course you do.”
Julian leaned closer.
“You call me boss.”
Regulus clapped a hand over his mouth, laughing into his palm.
“This is absurd.”
Julian shrugged.
“Still cute.”
Regulus took a breath, trying to compose himself.
Then looked up at him.
“…boss.”
Julian’s smile widened slowly.
“Well damn.”
Behind Regulus, the Gryffindors had completely lost control.
“THIS IS INSANE.”
“REGULUS WHAT ARE YOU DOING.”
“WHY ARE YOU ENCOURAGING THEM.”
Sirius looked like someone had just thrown him into the ocean.
“Absolutely not.”
But Regulus was barely paying attention.
He was giggling again, swaying slightly as the four men leaned in around him.
“Sir,” he said experimentally.
Marcus groaned.
“Oh you’re dangerous.”
“Daddy,” Regulus added.
Elijah laughed helplessly.
“Lord help me.”
“Baby.”
Andre shook his head, smiling.
“You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Boss.”
Julian chuckled.
“Yeah you definitely are.”
Regulus was glowing now.
Cheeks red. Eyes sparkling.
“This is the best city in the world.”
Marcus squeezed his waist lightly.
“Well now.”
He tipped his head toward Regulus.
“You remember that balcony we mentioned earlier?”
Regulus froze for half a second.
Then immediately started giggling again.
“Oh dear.”
Elijah leaned against the railing behind them.
“Still open.”
Andre folded his arms.
“Real nice view.”
Julian added casually,
“Lot quieter than this street.”
Regulus glanced up the block where the iron balconies leaned over the crowds.
Music thundered below them. People danced in the streets. Beads glittered everywhere under neon lights.
Then he looked back at the four men.
Then at their grins.
Then at Marcus.
“…sir?”
Marcus raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah?”
Regulus rocked slightly on his heels.
“You’re still inviting me?”
All four of them laughed.
“Oh sweetheart,” Elijah said, shaking his head. “We been invitin’ you all night.”
Regulus covered his mouth again, giggling.
“That’s very flattering.”
Andre leaned a little closer.
“Well?”
Regulus looked at them.
Then at his friends behind him.
Who were all staring in horror.
Then back at the men.
He brightened suddenly.
“…okay.”
For half a second the men blinked.
Then—
“HELL YEAH.”
The four of them erupted in cheers.
Marcus grabbed Regulus’s hand.
Elijah pumped a fist in the air.
Andre laughed loudly.
Julian shook his head with a huge grin.
Behind them the Gryffindors absolutely lost their minds.
“REGULUS!”
“ARE YOU SERIOUS?!”
“YOU CAN’T JUST GO WITH THEM!”
Regulus giggled helplessly as Marcus tugged him gently toward the street.
“Oh relax.”
Sirius looked ready to fight god.
“RELAX?!”
Regulus blew him a quick kiss.
“I’ll be back!”
James was screaming with laughter.
“THIS IS THE BEST NIGHT OF MY LIFE.”
Fabian was practically crying.
“BALCONY REGULUS!”
Marcus and Elijah were already guiding him through the crowd.
“C’mon bead boy.”
Andre scooped several necklaces off Regulus’s shoulder and tossed them playfully at Fabian as they walked.
Julian glanced back once, grinning at the stunned Gryffindors.
“Don’t wait up.”
The crowd swallowed them quickly.
Regulus’s bright laughter echoed once more as the four men pulled him toward the wrought-iron stairs leading up to the balcony.
It started, as most disasters at Hogwarts did, with boredom.
“Merlin, I’m going to die,” Sirius Black muttered, slumped so far down in his chair he was practically folded in half. “Not by curse, not by dragon, but by sheer academic suffering.”
“You’ve said that every lesson this week,” Remus Lupin replied mildly, though even he looked close to drifting off. His quill hovered over parchment, unmoving, like it too had given up.
James Potter was spinning his wand between his fingers, balancing it on his thumb. “If I fake fainting, do you think we’ll get sent to the hospital wing?”
“No,” Lily Evans said without looking up. “I think you’ll get detention. Again.”
Peter Pettigrew leaned forward, whispering, “I could faint. I think I’d be convincing.”
“Peter,” Mary Macdonald said, elbowing him lightly, “you faint walking up stairs.”
Behind them, Marlene McKinnon had her boots kicked up on the desk, chair tilted dangerously back. “If this man says ‘incantation’ one more time, I’m going to incinerate myself out of spite.”
Alice Fortescue snorted. “That would at least be interesting.”
Frank Longbottom, dutiful as ever, was actually taking notes. Fabian and Gideon Prewett were passing a scrap of parchment back and forth, barely stifling laughter.
Across the room, the Slytherins were no better.
Barty Crouch Jr. was sprawled sideways across his chair, whispering loudly, “If I die here, I’m haunting this classroom specifically.”
“You’re already haunting it,” Evan Rosier said dryly.
Pandora Rosier was staring at the ceiling like she was trying to astral project out of her own body. “I think if I focus hard enough, I can leave. Physically.”
Dorcas Meadowes hummed, picking at her nails. “Take me with you.”
And Regulus Black—
Regulus was sitting perfectly upright, quill poised, notes immaculate.
Except his eyes were distant.
Not bored.
Just… elsewhere.
The professor droned on, voice blending into the low hum of restlessness. “—and so, if one channels the magical current correctly, the result is a controlled expansion—”
Sirius groaned audibly. “Controlled expansion of my will to live, right out the window.”
“Black!” the professor snapped.
Sirius sat up straight instantly. “Yes, sir, absolutely, sir, so controlled, sir.”
The professor narrowed his eyes, then turned back to the board. “As I was saying. A demonstration may help.”
That got attention.
Heads lifted.
Even Regulus blinked.
The professor raised his wand. “Observe carefully. This is a delicate spell—”
James leaned forward. “Finally.”
“—requiring precision—”
“Please let it explode,” Marlene whispered.
“—and restraint—”
“Explode,” Sirius mouthed.
“—Expansio—”
The wand sparked.
There was a beat.
Then—
The spell detonated.
A deafening crack split the room, light bursting outward like a star collapsing in on itself. Desks rattled, windows shook, and every single student screamed.
“SHIT—”
“DUCK—”
“MERLIN—”
Everyone dropped.
Chairs screeched, bodies hit the floor, arms thrown over heads—
And then—
Silence.
Slowly, cautiously, heads lifted.
Smoke curled through the air.
“…did it work?” Peter whispered.
“I don’t know what it was meant to do,” Remus said carefully, “so I’m not sure.”
“Is everyone—” Lily started—
“—fine—?”
Her voice cut off.
Because Regulus Black was standing.
At the centre of it.
He had stumbled back into the desk behind him, hands gripping the edge.
His face was—
Blank.
Completely, utterly blank.
His eyes stared forward, unfocused, unseeing.
“Regulus?” Sirius said immediately, pushing to his feet.
No response.
“Reg,” Evan said sharply, already moving closer.
Nothing.
Pandora’s expression shifted, unease creeping in. “That’s… not normal.”
“Mate?” Barty waved a hand in front of his face. “Hello? Earth to Black, come in—”
Regulus didn’t blink.
Didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
A flicker of real panic broke across the room.
“Professor,” Remus said quickly, “something’s wrong—”
“I—this wasn’t—he shouldn’t—”
“Regulus,” Sirius said again, louder now, stepping forward—
Regulus moved.
His head snapped to the side.
Then the other.
Then—
He shook.
Violently.
Like a dog shaking water from its fur, hair whipping, shoulders jerking—
“What the fuck—” James breathed.
Regulus gasped.
Then stilled.
And slowly—
Slowly—
A smirk spread across his face.
Not Regulus’s.
Something older.
Something wrong.
He looked down at his hands.
Flexed his fingers.
Turned his wrist.
“…well now,” he murmured.
His voice was deeper.
Richer.
Layered with something ancient.
A thrill of unease rippled through the room.
“Oh, this is nice.”
“Regulus?” Dorcas said carefully.
He ignored her.
Instead, he rolled his shoulders, stretching like he’d just woken up in a new skin.
“Very nice,” he added, inspecting his arm. “Lean. Strong. Oh, and these—”
He pressed a hand to his stomach, then laughed.
“—these are excellent.”
“What is happening,” Sirius said flatly.
Remus stepped forward slowly, eyes narrowed. “That’s not him.”
“No shit,” Marlene muttered.
Regulus—no, not Regulus—tilted his head, finally looking up at them.
Golden light flickered in his eyes.
“Oh, you’re all still here.”
A grin.
Sharp.
Amused.
“Good.”
A pause.
Then—
“Haha, okay, okay. I see what’s happening, yeah.”
Everyone froze.
“You’re face to face with greatness and it’s strange. You don’t even know how you feel.”
“Greatness?” Barty echoed, incredulous.
“It’s adorable,” he continued, waving a hand lazily. “Well, it’s nice to see that humans never change.”
“Humans?” Lily repeated.
“Open your eyes, let’s begin. Yes, it’s really me, it’s The Dagda, breathe it in.”
The name hit like a shockwave.
Remus went still.
“…The Dagda,” he said quietly.
Pandora’s eyes lit up. “Celtic—”
“God of magic,” Remus finished, voice tight.
“Correct,” the thing in Regulus’s body said brightly. “I know it’s a lot, the hair, the bod—”
He paused.
Looked down again.
Grinned.
“—when you’re starin’ at a god.”
“Oh my god,” Peter whispered.
“What can I say except, ‘You’re welcome’?” he went on, spreading his arms. “For the tides, the sun, the sky?”
“WHY ARE YOU TALKING LIKE THAT—” Sirius snapped.
“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, you’re welcome. I’m just an ordinary guy.”
“Ordinary—” James choked. “You just said you’re a god—”
“Hey!” He pointed at himself, delighted. “What has two thumbs and pulled up the sky when you were waddling yay-high? This guy!”
Barty stared. “I hate him.”
“When the nights got cold, who stole you fire from down below?” he continued, pacing now, energy building. “You’re lookin’ at him, yo!”
“Professor, do something!” Alice called.
“I—this is beyond—”
“Oh, also, I lassoed the sun,” he added casually. “You’re welcome.”
Pandora clutched Dorcas’s arm. “This is incredible.”
“To stretch your days and bring you fun. Also, I harnessed the breeze—”
“Regulus, if you can hear me—” Sirius tried—
“You’re welcome!” he cut across, laughing. “To fill your sails and shake your trees!”
“Okay, no, this is not happening,” Marlene said, standing up. “We are not being serenaded by a possessed Slytherin.”
“So what can I say except, ‘You’re welcome’?” he continued, completely ignoring them. “For the islands I pulled from the sea?”
“There’s no need to pray, it’s okay, you’re welcome—ha!” He clapped his hands once. “I guess it’s just my way of being me.”
“MAKE IT STOP,” Gideon yelled.
“‘You’re welcome, you’re welcome’—well, come to think of it—” He tapped his chin.
Then he lit up.
“Kid, honestly, I could go on and on. I could explain every natural phenomenon.”
“No, please don’t—” Frank started.
“The tide, the grass, the ground—oh, that was Dagda just messin’ around.”
Remus dragged a hand down his face. “We’re going to die.”
“I killed an eel, I buried its guts, sprouted a tree, now you got coconuts.”
“COCONUTS?” Fabian shrieked.
“What’s the lesson? What is the takeaway?” He leaned forward, grin widening. “Don’t mess with Dagda when he’s on a breakaway.”
Sirius stepped forward again, furious now. “Get out of him.”
The Dagda blinked.
Then smiled.
“Bold.”
“And the tapestry here on my skin—” He reached for the hem of Regulus’s robes.
“Don’t—” Evan warned.
Too late.
He yanked them off.
The classroom erupted.
“WHAT THE FUCK—”
“REGULUS—”
“PUT YOUR SHIRT BACK ON—”
But he didn’t.
Because as the fabric fell away—
Marks ignited.
Lines of gold and white flared across Regulus’s skin, spiralling over his chest, his arms, his sides—intricate, ancient symbols burning like constellations carved into flesh.
Gasps filled the room.
Pandora whispered, awed, “That’s—”
“A map of the victories I win,” the Dagda finished smugly.
Evan stared.
Then choked. “Of course he’d have tattoos.”
“Look where I’ve been, I make everything happen,” he went on, turning slightly, flexing, admiring. “Look at that mean Mini-Dagda just tickety-tappin’.”
“I’m going to be sick,” Peter said faintly.
“Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, hey—” he laughed, utterly delighted with himself.
“WELL, ANYWAY,” Marlene shouted over him, “CAN SOMEONE FIX HIM—”
“Well, anyway, let me say you’re welcome,” he said smoothly, as if she hadn’t spoken.
“For the wonderful world you know.”
Lily stepped forward, jaw set. “That’s enough.”
“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, you’re welcome,” he said, pointing at her.
Her eye twitched.
“Well, come to think of it, I gotta go.”
“YOU ARE NOT GOING ANYWHERE,” Sirius snapped.
“Hey, it’s your day to say, ‘You’re welcome’—” he continued cheerfully.
“Absolutely not,” Remus said.
“‘Cause I’m gonna need that boat.”
“Boat?” James echoed.
“I’m sailing away, away, you’re welcome—”
“No—”
“‘Cause Dagda can do everything but float.”
Silence.
“…what,” Dorcas said.
“You’re welcome.”
“NO—”
“You’re welcome.”
“GET OUT OF HIM—”
“And thank you!”
The room exploded into noise.
“PROFESSOR—”
“DO SOMETHING—”
“REGULUS—”
“WHAT DO WE DO—”
Sirius was already moving.
“I don’t care what you are,” he snarled, grabbing Regulus by the collar, “you get out of my brother—”
The Dagda looked down at him.
Still smiling.
Still amused.
But his eyes—
Ancient.
Bottomless.
“Oh,” he said softly.
Sirius froze.
And for the first time—
The god’s voice dropped the theatrics.
“Now that,” he murmured, tilting his head, “is interesting.”
Remus inhaled sharply.
Because for one, brief, terrifying second—
Regulus’s eyes flickered.
Like he was still in there.
Watching.
Waiting.
And then—
The Dagda smiled wider.
And the room held its breath.
Sirius didn’t get the chance to say anything else.
The Dagda barely glanced at him.
Then—casually, almost lazily—he lifted a hand and shoved.
Not hard.
Not with effort.
Just—
Dismissively.
Sirius went flying.
“SHIT—” James yelped as Sirius crashed into a desk, the wood screeching across the floor before tipping, sending him sprawling with it.
“—OW—bloody hell—” Sirius wheezed from the ground, stunned more than hurt.
Lines of ancient Celtic script burned across his skin, curling and knotting into symbols that seemed to move when you looked at them too long. They wrapped around his arms, coiled over his ribs, traced the sharp cut of his waist and the defined lines of his abdomen.
Alive.
Not ink.
Not scars.
Power.
The Dagda turned slightly, admiring the way they shifted with him.
“And the adornments,” he added, pleased. “A nice touch.”
“That’s not a ‘touch,’” Remus said, stepping forward, voice tight but controlled. “That’s you.”
The Dagda’s head tilted.
“Oh?”
Remus swallowed, then continued, louder now so everyone could hear—
“So that everyone understands—The Dagda is a figure in Celtic mythology. One of the Tuatha Dé Danann.”
Pandora gasped. “I knew it—”
“He’s not just a god of magic,” Remus went on. “He’s a god of—everything, really. Magic, fertility, life, death, time, weather—creation itself. He’s—”
“Important,” the Dagda supplied, pleased.
“Dangerous,” Remus corrected.
The Dagda smiled wider.
“Also correct.”
“He has other names,” Remus continued, eyes never leaving him. “The Good God. The Great Father. Eochaid Ollathair.”
The Dagda hummed approvingly. “Ah. I do like that one.”
“He fought in wars,” Remus said. “Battles that shaped entire mythologies. The Second Battle of Mag Tuired, for one—”
“Oh, that was a good one,” the Dagda said, almost fondly. “Bit messy, but effective.”
“—and he carries a weapon,” Remus added, voice tightening slightly. “A club. Massive. Said to kill with one end and restore life with the other.”
That—
That got his attention.
The Dagda went still.
Then—
Slowly—
His grin sharpened.
“…my club.”
“Oh no,” James said immediately.
“Oh, yes,” the Dagda murmured.
He straightened, something new sparking behind his eyes.
“I’d forgotten that.”
“Forgotten—” Gideon choked. “HOW DO YOU FORGET A WEAPON LIKE THAT—”
“Left it,” the Dagda said dismissively, waving a hand. “Somewhere remote. Island, I think.”
“OF COURSE IT’S AN ISLAND—” Fabian yelled.
“I should retrieve it,” the Dagda added thoughtfully.
“No,” Lily said flatly. “You should not.”
He ignored her.
“I quite liked that club.”
“WE are not letting you go anywhere,” Sirius snapped, dragging himself back up, hair a mess, eyes blazing.
The Dagda looked at him.
Then—
He smiled.
And turned away.
“I think I will.”
And he started walking.
“OH NO YOU DON’T—”
Chaos exploded.
Chairs scraped, people scrambled—
“GET HIM—”
“STOP HIM—”
“REGULUS—”
They poured out of the classroom after him.
The Dagda didn’t hurry.
Didn’t even glance back.
He just walked.
Calm.
Unbothered.
Completely shirtless.
Through the halls of Hogwarts.
Students turned.
Stopped.
Stared.
Because Regulus Black—quiet, composed, perfectly put-together Regulus Black—
Was walking down the corridor half-dressed, glowing like a star, covered in shifting golden markings, smirking like he owned the world.
And—Merlin—
He looked—
“Is that—Black?” someone whispered.
“WHAT—”
“Since when does he—”
“Oh my GOD—”
“Look at him—”
“His waist—”
“His—are those abs—”
“He’s so—”
“Why is he so—”
“SHUT UP—” Sirius roared, shoving past them.
The Dagda heard every word.
And he loved it.
His smirk deepened.
“Ah,” he murmured, flexing his hand again. “Recognition.”
“That’s not recognition, that’s people losing their minds—” Remus said breathlessly, keeping pace.
“Close enough.”
Someone tried a spell.
“Stupefy—!”
It hit.
Or—
It didn’t.
The light struck him and—
Vanished.
Like it had never existed.
The Dagda didn’t even flinch.
“Ah,” he said lightly. “Magic.”
He rolled his shoulder.
“Cute.”
“WHY ISN’T IT WORKING—” Mary shrieked.
“Because he is magic,” Remus snapped.
“Oh, that’s brilliant, love that for us—” Marlene said.
The attention built.
More students gathering.
More staring.
More whispering.
The Dagda’s grin turned feral.
“Mm,” he hummed, clearly enjoying himself now.
He stretched again.
Flexed.
Deliberately.
Slowly.
Muscles shifting under skin, markings flaring brighter—
“Stop—showing off—” Evan hissed.
“Why?” the Dagda asked, genuinely curious.
And then—
Something changed.
A ripple.
A shift.
The air itself seemed to tighten—
And from beneath Regulus’s arms—
Another set—
Unfolded.
Gasps echoed down the corridor.
“What the FUCK—”
“ARE THOSE—”
“ARMS—”
A second pair pushed out along his ribs, fully formed, just as toned, just as strong—
And then—
A third.
Lower.
Along his waist.
Six arms in total.
All flexing.
All moving.
All very, very real.
Pandora made a strangled sound. “That is—oh my god—”
“WHY DOES HE HAVE MORE—” Peter shrieked.
The Dagda flexed them experimentally.
One set crossed over his chest.
Another braced at his sides.
The lowest rested casually at his hips.
“Ah,” he said, delighted. “That’s better.”
“BETTER?” Sirius echoed hysterically.
“This body is smaller than I’m used to,” the Dagda explained, as if that made anything normal. “Had to redistribute.”
“Redistribute WHAT—” James demanded.
“Mass,” he said simply.
“OF COURSE—”
He rolled all six shoulders at once.
The effect was—
Obscene.
Terrifying.
Impressive.
And he knew it.
“Oh, this is excellent,” the Dagda added, watching the way people stared.
“Stop looking at him!” Sirius snapped at a group of younger students.
They did not stop looking.
No one stopped looking.
Because he—
He looked like something out of a myth.
Out of a story.
Out of something that shouldn’t be real.
And he was enjoying every second of it.
“Right,” he said finally, turning slightly toward the doors leading out of the castle. “Island.”
“No,” Lily said again, firmer now. “Absolutely not.”
The Dagda smiled.
Six arms shifting.
Gold blazing.
Eyes ancient.
And walked on anyway.
Behind him—
The entire school followed.
The castle had never seen anything like this.
A god—shirtless, glowing, six-armed, and entirely too pleased with himself—strolling through the corridors like he owned not just Hogwarts, but the concept of existence itself.
And behind him—
An entire year group.
Plus several others who had joined along the way.
Plus a professor who looked like he was reconsidering every career choice that had ever led him here.
The Dagda walked at the centre of it all, utterly unbothered.
And now—
He was talking to himself.
“Right,” he murmured, one hand idly tracing the glowing lines along his ribs while another flexed at his side. “Club first. Then the cauldron.”
“CAULDRON?” Fabian echoed loudly.
Remus, still keeping pace beside Sirius, inhaled sharply. “His cauldron.”
“What about it?” James demanded.
“It’s—” Remus scrubbed a hand through his hair. “It’s not just a cauldron. It’s the cauldron. The Cauldron of Plenty. It never runs empty. It feeds everyone. It’s—”
“Indispensable,” the Dagda said smoothly.
“Yes,” Remus snapped.
“Sounds useful,” Barty muttered.
“Sounds like something we should not let him have,” Lily shot back.
The Dagda ignored them all.
“Club, cauldron,” he continued, ticking them off on different hands. “Then—back.”
His expression shifted.
Not smug.
Not entirely.
Something deeper.
Older.
“Back to Ireland.”
Remus went still.
“Back to rule,” the Dagda added, voice quieter now, but no less powerful. “To sovereign my land again. To protect my people.”
The corridor seemed to still around him.
Even the students who had been whispering fell silent for a moment.
“Good,” he murmured. “It’s been too long.”
A pause.
Then—
His grin came back.
Sharp.
Eager.
“And my children.”
“Oh no,” Dorcas muttered.
“I’ll see them again,” he went on, almost fondly now. “Aengus Óg, Brigid, Bodb Dearg, Cermait, Midir, Aed, Ainge and Echtgi—”
“STOP LISTING THEM—” Gideon said.
“I wonder how they’re doing,” the Dagda added, completely ignoring him. “I’ve been gone quite some time.”
“And my ladies,” he continued, voice dropping slightly.
Pandora leaned in, fascinated. “Oh?”
“The Morrígan, Boann, Echtgi, Englec… Danu.”
“Who are—” Peter started.
“They’re—” Remus began automatically—
“Lovers,” the Dagda said, grinning. “Consorts.”
Silence.
Then—
Collective screaming.
“OH MY GOD—”
“NO—”
“WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT—”
He kept going.
“Strong women,” he added approvingly. “All of them. Powerful. Fruitful.”
“STOP—”
“They’ve given me many children,” he went on, entirely too pleased. “And we mate to ensure prosperity—”
“STOP TALKING—” Sirius yelled, face red.
“—I do wonder if they’ll like this form,” the Dagda mused, glancing down at Regulus’s body again, turning slightly as if checking angles. “Different. Smaller. But not without its merits.”
Evan made a choked noise. “I’m going to kill him.”
“I can’t wait to get back,” the Dagda added, almost dreamy now. “To mate again.”
The screaming doubled.
“NO—”
“ABSOLUTELY NOT—”
“REGULUS—”
“It’s been far too long,” he finished, sighing. “I’ve been rather pent up.”
“OH MY GOD—” Mary shrieked.
“I am begging you to stop talking,” Lily said through gritted teeth.
“Why?” the Dagda asked, genuinely confused. “It’s a perfectly reasonable—”
“NO IT ISN’T—” Marlene shouted.
Remus stepped in quickly, voice raised. “The Morrígan is a war goddess. Boann is the goddess of the River Boyne. Danu is—well—Danu. The mother goddess. They’re not just—”
“Wives?” the Dagda supplied.
“—that,” Remus snapped.
“Also that,” the Dagda said, unbothered.
“And the others?” Alice asked, slightly hysterical.
“Children of the Tuatha Dé Danann,” Remus said quickly. “Figures of power, magic, sovereignty—Aengus Óg is associated with love and youth, Brigid with poetry, healing, smithcraft—”
“Ah, Brigid,” the Dagda said fondly. “She always was clever.”
“—Midir, lord of the Otherworld, Bodb Dearg, Cermait—”
“How do you know all this?” Fabian demanded suddenly, staring at him.
Remus blinked.
“…I’m Irish.”
A beat.
“I’m from Ireland,” he added, frowning. “I thought—did you all not—”
“No,” Sirius said flatly.
“No one knew that,” James added.
“Why would we know that?” Barty said.
Remus looked offended. “I’ve mentioned it—”
“When?” Dorcas asked.
“…once,” Remus admitted.
“That does not count—”
The Dagda stopped walking.
Everyone nearly crashed into him.
He turned.
Slowly.
All six arms shifting.
Eyes locking—
On Remus.
Something in his expression changed.
Recognition.
Interest.
“…Ireland,” he repeated.
Remus froze.
“Oh,” the Dagda said, a grin spreading again. “Well, that changes things.”
“Oh no,” Sirius said immediately.
“Mine,” the Dagda added simply.
“What?” Remus blinked.
“You’re one of my people,” the Dagda said, as if that explained everything.
“I—what—no—”
A hand—one of six—reached out.
And before Remus could react—
It hooked around his shoulders.
Pulled him in.
“Good,” the Dagda said, beaming.
Remus made a strangled noise as he was yanked against him, trapped under the weight of divine enthusiasm and approximately three too many arms.
“LET GO OF HIM—” Sirius snapped.
“Relax,” the Dagda said, waving him off with another hand. “I protect my own.”
“I don’t—need—” Remus tried—
“Nonsense,” the Dagda said cheerfully.
He gave Remus a firm, approving shake.
“You’ll come with me.”
“I will not—”
“Back to Ireland,” the Dagda continued, already deciding it. “You’ll like it. Fresh air. Good land. Proper magic.”
“I already live there—” Remus protested.
“Even better!” the Dagda said, delighted.
“I am not going anywhere with you—”
“We’ll fix that,” the Dagda said easily.
“NO WE WILL NOT—”
He laughed.
Big.
Booming.
Genuinely amused.
“Ah, I like you,” he added, clapping Remus on the back hard enough to make him stumble. “Good spirit.”
Remus wheezed. “I’m being kidnapped.”
“Yes,” Sirius said grimly, already moving forward again. “You are.”
“Brilliant.”
The Dagda just kept walking.
Arm still slung around Remus like he’d claimed him.
Still smiling.
Still glowing.
Still entirely, utterly unstoppable.
And behind him—
The chaos only grew louder.
The procession did not slow.
If anything, it picked up momentum—more students peeling out of side corridors, drawn by noise, by light, by the impossible sight of Regulus Black glowing like a living constellation with six arms and the confidence of something that had never once been told no.
At the centre of it all—
The Dagda walked on.
Remus was still trapped at his side, one of those arms draped firmly around his shoulders like they were old friends on a casual stroll rather than a hostage situation.
“I am not going with you,” Remus said, for what had to be the fifth time.
“Yes, yes,” the Dagda replied easily, clearly not listening. “Now—where was I—ah.”
He shifted slightly, another arm gesturing ahead like he was mapping out a route only he could see.
“Once we’re out of this place,” he continued, nodding toward the distant doors, “we’ll take a little detour.”
“We?” Remus echoed weakly.
“Yes,” the Dagda said brightly. “You and I.”
“No—”
“To the island,” he went on, undeterred. “Remote. Hidden. I left things there.”
“Your club,” Remus muttered.
“And my cauldron,” the Dagda added, pleased. “Can’t forget that.”
“WE can absolutely forget that,” Sirius snapped from behind them.
The Dagda didn’t even look back.
“Retrieve those,” he continued, tapping one finger thoughtfully against his chin, “and then—home.”
“Ireland,” Remus said quietly.
The Dagda’s grin softened—just a fraction.
“Yes.”
For a brief moment, something almost reverent slipped into his voice.
“My land.”
“Your land?” Lily repeated sharply.
“My people,” he corrected.
Then, just as quickly, the smugness returned.
“And my responsibilities.”
“Your responsibilities include NOT possessing students,” she said.
He waved a hand. “Temporary inconvenience.”
“REGULUS WOULD DISAGREE—” Evan snapped.
“He’ll be fine,” the Dagda said easily. “I’m taking excellent care of his body.”
Evan looked like he might actually throw something at him.
“Anyway,” the Dagda went on, completely unbothered, “once we’ve retrieved what’s mine, we head straight to Ireland. Establish control, reassert sovereignty—”
“You can’t just walk in and take over a country,” James said.
The Dagda finally glanced at him.
“…watch me.”
James choked.
Remus dragged a hand down his face. “This is insane.”
“It’s efficient,” the Dagda corrected.
“And then what?” Dorcas demanded.
“Then?” the Dagda echoed, as if the answer was obvious. “I resume my role.”
“As a—” Peter gestured vaguely, “—god?”
“Yes.”
“NO—”
“Yes,” the Dagda repeated, smiling.
“And you’re just… telling us all of this?” Pandora asked, fascinated.
“Why not?” he said lightly. “It’s not like you can stop me.”
“…fair,” Barty muttered.
They were getting closer to the entrance now.
The massive doors loomed ahead, sunlight spilling in through the open archway beyond.
The Dagda slowed slightly.
Not stopping.
Just—
Considering.
Then he clicked his tongue.
“Bit of a nuisance, though.”
“What is?” Remus asked warily.
“This place,” the Dagda said, gesturing vaguely around them. “Restrictive.”
“That would be the school’s protective enchantments,” Remus said.
“Yes,” the Dagda said. “Annoying things.”
“Good things,” Lily corrected.
The Dagda snorted.
“I could do far more if I weren’t contained,” he added, almost idly. “But no matter.”
“Contained?” Sirius echoed. “You’re currently kidnapping my brother—”
“Borrowing,” the Dagda corrected.
“—and sprouting extra limbs in the hallway—”
“Improvising.”
“—and ignoring every spell thrown at you—”
“That one’s not my fault,” the Dagda said.
Everyone paused.
“…what?” Remus said.
The Dagda shrugged.
“Well,” he said, almost casually, “magic doesn’t work properly here for me.”
“That’s—literally not true—” Remus started.
“It is,” the Dagda cut in, smiling faintly. “Because this place is under protection.”
“Yes,” Remus said, exasperated, “that’s how wards—”
“Not just any wards,” the Dagda said.
He tilted his head.
Eyes gleaming.
“My cousin’s.”
The words landed heavy.
“…your cousin,” Lily repeated slowly.
“Yes,” the Dagda said.
A beat.
Then—
“Hecate.”
Silence.
Remus’s stomach dropped.
“…Hecate,” he repeated.
“Goddess of magic,” Pandora whispered.
“Among other things,” the Dagda said.
“That’s—” Remus shook his head. “That’s not possible—”
“Clearly it is,” the Dagda replied lightly.
He flexed one hand, watching the way the glow of his markings dimmed—just slightly.
“I can’t access everything I’d like to in here,” he admitted. “Her influence is… thorough.”
“Good,” Sirius said immediately.
“Temporary,” the Dagda corrected.
His grin returned.
Sharper.
More certain.
“Once we’re outside,” he continued, glancing toward the open grounds beyond the doors, “that changes.”
Remus’s chest tightened.
“No,” he said, more firmly now. “No, it doesn’t.”
The Dagda looked down at him.
Amused.
“Ah,” he said softly. “Optimism.”
“That’s not optimism, that’s—”
“Denial,” Barty supplied.
“Helpful,” Remus snapped.
The Dagda chuckled.
Then tightened his arm slightly around Remus’s shoulders—not painfully, but enough to remind him exactly who was in control.
“Don’t worry,” he said, almost reassuring. “You’ll see.”
“I don’t want to see,” Remus said.
“You will.”
“I won’t—”
“You will,” the Dagda repeated.
And then—
He stepped forward again.
Closer to the threshold.
Closer to the open air.
Closer—
To leaving.
Behind them, the entire group surged, panic rising again, voices overlapping—
“STOP HIM—”
“DON’T LET HIM OUT—”
“REGULUS—”
“REMUS—”
But the Dagda only laughed.
Soft.
Certain.
And kept walking.
The doors burst open.
Cold air hit them all at once.
Grass. Sky. Wind.
Freedom.
The instant The Dagda stepped past the boundary—
Everything changed.
It wasn’t subtle.
It wasn’t gradual.
It was—
Violent.
Power surged.
Not like a spell.
Not like magic.
Like a dam breaking.
The ground itself seemed to hum as something ancient and vast slammed back into place where it belonged.
Regulus’s body arched—
Light exploded outward—
“GET BACK—” Lily shouted—
Too late.
The glow along his skin flared blindingly bright, the Celtic markings igniting like living fire as they crawled, spread, deepened—
And then—
He grew.
Bones shifting.
Muscles stretching.
Height rising—
“WHAT THE FUCK—” James yelled as the figure in front of them straightened—
Taller.
Broader.
Not enormous.
But no longer small.
No longer contained.
A bit over six foot now, towering over most of them, shoulders wider, presence heavier—
More right.
The extra arms remained.
All six.
All powerful.
All very, very real.
The Dagda inhaled.
Deep.
Satisfied.
“Oh,” he said, voice richer now, fuller, echoing slightly in the open air. “There it is.”
He rolled his neck.
Cracked it.
Flexed—
Every single arm at once.
The sound of it—
Sharp.
Final.
“Much better.”
“SHIT—” Sirius breathed.
The Dagda looked down at himself.
Turned slightly.
Admired.
“Still not my full form,” he mused. “But closer.”
The markings burned brighter now, gold threaded with something darker, older—like the earth itself had been carved into his skin.
“Stop—moving—” Evan said hoarsely.
The Dagda smiled.
“I don’t think I will.”
He tightened his hold on Remus.
Pulled him in properly now, arm locked around his shoulders, another braced lightly against his back like he belonged there.
“Come on,” he said cheerfully. “Island first.”
“I am not—” Remus started—
The Dagda laughed.
Loud.
Bright.
Completely delighted.
“We’re leaving,” he said, like it was already decided.
Behind them—
The entire group surged forward.
“NO YOU ARE NOT—” Sirius shouted.
“If you’re taking him, we’re coming too—” James added immediately.
“AND REGULUS—” Evan snapped.
“You are not taking his body anywhere alone—” Dorcas said.
“Absolutely not—” Lily agreed.
“Yeah, no, that’s not happening—” Marlene folded her arms.
“We’re coming,” Alice said.
“Every single one of us,” Frank added.
Fabian pointed aggressively. “You are not ditching us after all that—”
Gideon nodded. “Not a chance.”
Pandora tilted her head, smiling slightly. “This is far too interesting to miss.”
Barty grinned. “Yeah, I want to see the island.”
Peter squeaked, “I don’t, but I’m not staying behind—”
The Dagda blinked.
Looked at all of them.
Then—
He shrugged.
“Fine.”
Silence.
“…what?” Sirius said.
“If you insist,” the Dagda said, utterly unbothered.
“That’s it?” James blinked. “No argument?”
“Why would I argue?” the Dagda said lightly. “You can’t stop me.”
“…fair,” Barty said again.
“And if you come,” the Dagda continued, glancing over them with mild amusement, “you’ll simply witness what happens next.”
“That’s the point,” Lily said.
“Good,” the Dagda replied.
He adjusted his grip on Remus slightly, pulling him a fraction closer, as if bracing him for what came next.
Remus looked like he was reconsidering every decision he had ever made.
“I really don’t think this is a good idea—”
“No,” Sirius said grimly, stepping forward to stand on the other side of him. “It’s a terrible idea.”
“Then why are we doing it?” Peter whimpered.
“Because we’re not letting him go alone,” James said simply.
Evan nodded once, jaw tight. “Not without Reg.”
Dorcas crossed her arms. “Obviously.”
Pandora smiled faintly. “Field trip.”
“Not helping,” Remus muttered.
The Dagda chuckled.
“Right then,” he said, rolling his shoulders again, energy crackling faintly in the air around him now, no longer suppressed.
The castle was too quiet for the kind of energy they were carrying.
That was the first sign something terrible—brilliant, catastrophic—was about to happen.
“We’ve been hunting her for three weeks,” Sirius said, voice low, pacing like a general in a war room rather than a sixth-year loitering in a corridor. “Three. Weeks.”
“You’re taking this weirdly personally,” Remus muttered, though his eyes were sharp, scanning corners, checking sightlines like he was just as invested.
“She’s my sister,” Sirius snapped. “It’s not personal—it’s principle.”
James snorted. “The principle of you losing.”
Sirius rounded on him. “I don’t lose.”
“You’ve lost every time.”
“I’ve been strategic.”
“By getting hexed into a tapestry twice?”
“That was a learning experience.”
Behind them, Mary was already laughing, Marlene leaning against the wall with her arms folded, grinning like she was here purely for entertainment value. Alice and Frank stood shoulder to shoulder, whispering bets. Fabian and Gideon were arguing over odds. Peter was nervously bouncing on his heels like he both wanted to be here and absolutely did not.
Lily, arms crossed, watched the lot of them like a tired queen overseeing idiots.
“This is going to backfire,” she said calmly.
“No, it’s not,” Sirius said immediately.
“It is,” Lily said.
“It’s not.”
“It always does.”
“That’s a coincidence.”
“It’s a pattern.”
“It’s a misinterpretation of data—”
James clapped him on the shoulder. “There she is.”
Everything snapped into focus.
Down the corridor—sunlight spilling in through tall windows, gold dust in the air—Regulus Black walked like the world belonged to her.
Not rushed. Not cautious.
Unbothered.
Her hair caught the light, dark and soft, her posture straight, chin tilted just enough to feel like a challenge. Barty and Evan flanked her like orbiting stars, Pandora drifting slightly ahead, Dorcas at her side, all of them laughing about something low and sharp and private.
“They haven’t seen us,” Peter whispered.
Sirius’s grin was feral. “Perfect.”
Remus exhaled slowly. “This is a terrible idea.”
“Shh,” James said, already raising his wand.
The spell was quiet. Clean. Precise.
It hit like a whisper.
And Regulus stopped.
Mid-step.
Still.
Blank.
The corridor held its breath.
“Oh, shit,” Marlene said, already starting to grin.
Regulus didn’t move.
Didn’t blink.
Didn’t breathe.
And then—
She snapped.
Her head tilted back slightly, lips curling into something sharp and wicked and thrilled, and when she looked forward again her eyes were bright with something electric and unrestrained.
“Oh no,” Remus said under his breath.
“Oh yes,” Sirius breathed.
Regulus took one slow step forward.
Then another.
Then she laughed.
Not confused. Not startled.
Delighted.
She flicked her hair back, rolling her shoulders like she’d just stepped onto a stage she’d been waiting for her entire life.
“Are you a man? ’Cause I’m a bitch,” she said smoothly, voice rich and confident, like she was dropping a truth instead of a line.
The reaction was immediate.
“What—” James choked.
“OH MY GOD—” Mary screamed.
Sirius froze. “WHAT—”
Regulus didn’t even look at them. She was already moving, hips swaying, eyes scanning like she was choosing her audience.
“I’m already rich, just looking for that Mm,” she continued, smirking, dragging the sound out just enough to make it dangerous.
Barty lost it—head thrown back, cackling, clapping like he was witnessing art.
Evan leaned against the wall, grinning like this was the best day of his life. “Oh, she’s serving—”
Pandora clapped her hands together. “Oh this is perfect—”
Dorcas just shook her head, laughing. “We’re never letting her forget this.”
Regulus spun, pointing lazily down the corridor. “This party sucks, I’m ’bout to ditch.”
“WHAT PARTY—” Peter squeaked.
She waved him off without looking. “Don’t-don’t-don’t-don’t even try to gi-give me shit.”
“EXCUSE YOU—” Sirius shouted.
“I’ve earned the right to be-be like this,” Regulus went on, stepping closer now—closer to them—eyes glittering.
Lily pressed a hand over her mouth, laughing. “Oh, this is incredible—”
Regulus tilted her head, eyes locking on James now, slow, deliberate.
“Oh, you say you love me? That’s funny.”
James blinked. “I—what—”
“Well, so do I.”
James went red.
Fully. Completely.
Gone.
“OH MY GOD—” Marlene screamed.
Sirius made a strangled noise. “STOP LOOKING AT HIM—”
“I’m just looking for a—”
Regulus spun away, hair whipping, laughter spilling out of her as she moved between them like she owned the space.
“Joyride, joyride.”
She grabbed Barty’s tie, yanking him forward into step with her, and he went willingly, grinning like he’d die for it.
“I’m just looking for a—”
She pivoted, catching Evan by the wrist next, dragging him with her—he didn’t resist, didn’t even try.
“Good time tonight.”
“Reg—” Evan started, breathless, laughing.
“Baby, I want you to—”
She let go of him only to reach out—
—and grab James by the front of his shirt.
The corridor detonated.
“OH MY GOD—” Mary shrieked.
“JAMES—” Sirius yelled.
James didn’t move.
Couldn’t.
Because Regulus leaned in, smirking, eyes sharp and playful and entirely too aware.
“Rev my engine ’til you make it purr.”
James made a noise that could not be classified as human.
Remus physically turned away, face in his hands.
“Keep it kinky, but I come first,” Regulus continued, then shoved James back lightly, spinning away before he could recover.
“BEHAVE—” Sirius shouted, pointing at her like that would help.
It did not help.
“Beep-beep, bitch, I’m outside,” Regulus said, already moving again, already choosing a new victim.
She reached for—
Marlene.
Grabbed her hand.
Pulled her in.
Marlene lit up.
“Get in, loser, for the joyride.”
“OH I’M IN—” Marlene yelled immediately.
“YOU ARE NOT—” Sirius snapped.
“Making every motherfucker turn,” Regulus continued, spinning Marlene, laughing when Marlene stumbled and grabbed her waist.
“Fell from heaven, no, it didn’t hurt.”
“CLEARLY—” Fabian shouted.
“Beep-beep, best night your life.”
“THIS IS THE BEST NIGHT OF MY LIFE—” Gideon yelled back.
“Get in, loser, for the joyride.”
Regulus let Marlene go, spinning again, faster now, brighter, like she was feeding off the chaos.
“Joyride.”
She laughed.
“Get in, loser, for the joyride.”
Barty grabbed her hand again this time, pulling her into a spin—she let him, grinning.
“Keep your eyes on the road,” she said, then flicked her gaze toward Sirius like a challenge.
“A label whore, but I’m bored of wearing clothes.”
Sirius choked. “REGULUS—”
“You want kids? Well, I am Mother.”
Alice lost it, doubling over laughing while Frank tried—and failed—to keep a straight face.
“Don’t-don’t-don’t-don’t even try to gi-give me shit,” Regulus went on, already moving again.
“I’ve earned the right to be-be like this.”
“Joyride, joyride.”
Pandora was spinning in place now, clapping like she was conducting it.
“I’m just looking for a—”
Regulus grabbed Remus this time.
And that—
That was a mistake.
Because Remus froze like he’d been struck by lightning, eyes wide, breath gone.
“Good time tonight.”
“Reg—” he started.
“Baby, I want you to—”
She leaned in.
Close.
Too close.
“Rev my engine ’til you make it purr.”
Remus turned bright red, entire system shutting down.
“Keep it kinky, but I come first.”
“NOPE—” Sirius said, physically stepping forward.
“Beep-beep, bitch, I’m outside.”
Regulus slipped away before he could reach her, laughing.
“Get in, loser, for the joyride.”
“Making every motherfucker turn.”
“Fell from heaven, no, it didn’t hurt.”
“Beep-beep, best night your life.”
“Get in, loser, for the joyride.”
The corridor was gone.
Completely gone.
The corridor did not recover.
It got worse.
Because Regulus wasn’t slowing down—if anything, the magic was settling deeper into her bones, loosening something that had always been there, something sharp and glittering and utterly unbothered.
She pivoted on her heel, laughter spilling out of her like champagne fizz, hair falling over her shoulder as she dragged her fingers lazily down the stone wall.
“Don’t even, don’t, give me shit.”
“WE AREN’T—” Sirius shouted immediately.
“YOU ABSOLUTELY ARE—” James choked, still recovering, still pink, still very much not okay.
Regulus flicked him a glance—just a glance—and the corner of her mouth tipped.
“Don’t even, even, ’cause I’m a bitch.”
“OH MY GOD—” Mary shrieked, grabbing Lily’s arm and shaking it like that would somehow stabilise reality.
“It’s like she’s possessed—” Peter squeaked.
“She is possessed,” Remus muttered, still a little dazed, like he hadn’t fully returned to his body yet.
