Disclaimer: This masterlist covers the work I’ve written that I don’t hate on here as well as AO3, and Quotev ! Therefore some links will go to my other accounts on said websites (“KiaraKohana,” and “ItsJustSydney” respectively). All these accounts belong to me ! Works reposted across these different websites (that are published from these specific accounts) are just me publishing my work on different websites, so there’s no copyright fuckery amidst (unless it’s from an account not named here, in which case kindly let me know!). Thank you as always for reading, loves !
Caught in the Middle (Steve Harrington x Reader x Billy Hargrove)
8/? Chapters, ONGOING, also on Ao3
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8
Just before the school year begins, a new girl drives into town in a black 84’ Jaguar with a New York license plate. But you weren’t new to Hawkins at all. As a matter of fact, you were returning. While reunited with your old friends you soon find yourself making some unexpected new ones as well; namely the hair of Hawkins high himself and a certain hot-blooded Californian bad boy. Little did you know, dark forces were at work just beneath your feet. How the hell did you get caught in the middle of this?
Survive the Tide (Eddie Munson x Reader) ⭐️
5/? Chapters, ONGOING, also on Ao3
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5
After discovering a portal to another dimension, infiltrating an underground secret Russian facility, and fighting literal monsters to save the world not once but twice, you'd think the bulk of your problems would be behind you. Enter: Eddie Munson. You thought you were done with long haired, leather jacket wearing men after you dated Billy Hargrove, but Eddie seemed different. He was sweet, he was creative, he was honestly kind of a dork, and now he's convicted of murder. Needless to say, harboring a fugitive isn't exactly how you pictured your spring break going.
Time And Time Again (Marauders Era x Reader)
8/10 Chapters, ONOING, also on Ao3
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8
Old habits die hard— and so do feelings, apparently. Relive moments high and low from your life with the Marauders and co. as you tell your godson, Harry, about all the mischief you got up to back in your school days. Takes place mainly in the Marauders era but also has content congruent with the Order of the Phoenix timeline, with some cannon divergence, of course~
Main pairings: Sirius Black x Reader, Severus Snape x Reader, James Potter x Reader, Remus Lupin x Reader, slight Regulus Black x Reader, and a bunch of friendships! Gender neutral pronouns :)
Fragile Trust, Fragile Love (Armitage Hux x Reader)
13/13 Chapters, COMPLETED, (Ao3)
Armitage Hux had grown up in a world where he was told not to trust anyone, so why did he seem to let his guard down around you? He felt safe for the first time in decades- perhaps in his entire life. He trusted you. But little did he know there's a lot more to you than what meets the eye.
When you first got in through recommendation at UA you appeared to be the model up-and-coming hero with a bright future. But secrets hide behind every smile, and fate has an interesting way of bringing people together. Romance was the last thing on your mind but attraction is inevitable, after all.
Fighting Chance (Jaime Lannister x Reader)
3/3 Chapters, COMPLETED, also on Ao3
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
With his right hand gone, Jaime doesn't believe there's any way for him to regain his skill with the sword; his position in the Kingsguard is as good as finished. Luckily, Tyrion thinks he knows just the person to whip him back into shape- you.
Competition (Various! Fairy Tail x Reader)
37/37 Chapters + 4 Endings, COMPLETED, (Quotev)
You are (Y/n) (L/n)-- The Ice Dragon Slayer. You and most of Fairy Tail have just returned from Tenroujima after 7 years, and the Grand Magic Games are coming up! But how can you focus on the competition when it seems everyone else is in a competition for your heart?
The Runaway and the Renegade (Kylo Ren x Reader x Armitage Hux)
1/? Chapters, ONGOING, (Ao3)
They were fundamentally different in every imaginable way. One impulsive, unhinged, undeniably powerful; The other manipulative, calculating, a patient sleeper cell. You were content acting as the flood gate keeping the two from destroying each other, until your world was turned on its head.
~
Oneshots
Incredibly Unprofessional (Armitage Hux x Reader)
Fluff, (Ao3)
There's no room for slip-ups now that you've been promoted to First Lieutenant by General Hux. However, when a ginger cat sneaks into your room and starts following you around base, it leads to unexpected encounters and some ~misconduct~ on Starkiller Base.
~
Coming Soon
-Worlds Apart (Eddie Munson x Reader)
Oneshot
The rules of the Hawkins High class system were simple: you date in the popular crowd, you don't get bullied. From the outside you looked like you were in any other happy relationship, but in reality, Jason Carver was your safety net. After a major fight, you take some time away from your friend circle and realize the closer you get to a certain social outcast, the more tempted you are to light that net on fire.
-Untitled Geralt of Rivia x Reader x Jaskier
Multi-chapter fic
The first time you met the White Wolf you were shivering, covered in blood that was half your own and half hailing from the beast he had just run his blade through. He'd been a terrifying sight, but the calm look in his golden eyes made you reach for his outstretched hand before you even realized you were moving. The next time you meet seven years later, things are quite a bit different; you've got a sword, and he's got. . . a bard?
Or: Geralt saves your life and inspires you to take up the not-so-casual hobby of monster hunting. Jaskier shows up.
You haven’t been active for a while, just checking in and hoping you’re okay :)
Hi ! Thanks for checking in, I really appreciate it <3 I'm okay, actually a lot of really good things have been happening lately which is why I've been busy and haven't had as much time to write ! I've been stuck on the next chapter of Survive the Tide, but it's slowly coming together. I'm also debating whether or not to continue Caught in the Middle and what direction I'd want to take that plot in. Thanks again for asking !
A/n: Time to tackle S4 part 2! We are straying far from the cannon, my friends. TW: gore, violence, disturbing Vecna visions
LINKS: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 _____________________________________________
Ch 5 .:Convergence:.
“No, no no no,” Eddie cradled your face in his hands, shaking you, trying to get you to show any sign that you could hear him. Your eyes were completely rolled into the back of your head, your body deathly still, and Eddie felt fear twist its knife into his gut as he remembered Chrissy, standing in the exact same spot that you were before she. . .
No.
He wasn't going to let that happen. Not this time. Not to you.
“Robin we need music, now!” Steve shouted through the gate, “and try to get in contact with Dustin and the rest of the kids, the radio's in your bag!”
“I'm on it!” she yelled back, already retrying the channels on the walkie talkie and rummaging through Eddie's tapes.
Amidst the commotion Nancy was the only one that caught the inky black vines slowly creeping towards you on the floor, and as one of them coiled around your ankle alarms rang out in her head. She reached out and grabbed your arm just as your body shot back towards the open door of the trailer, the vines trying to pull you outside.
“Shit!” Eddie cursed as he lurched forward with you, trying desperately to pull you back. Steve took your knife out from your jacket pocket, slashing at the vines around your legs, but it seemed like every one he cut through was replaced in an instant. Nancy could feel her footing slipping as the vines climbed higher and higher up your body, their hold on you growing stronger.
“(Y/n), please,” Nancy begged, “I know you're in there. Wake up!”
'Wake up,' you mentally kicked yourself, 'none of this is real. . .'
You knew that, but every nerve in your body was telling you it was. This was your room. Every detail was laid out exactly as you knew it— the familiar feeling of your bed when you'd landed on it, the posters and photographs, even the plastered over hole in the drywall from when you'd thrown a fit in middle school. And then there was Billy, sitting on your bed across from you like he was still alive.
“What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?” he grinned, but the expression felt off. It was hollow; not quite reaching his eyes.
Waves of conflicting emotion crashed against your psyche all at once. Confusion, grief, longing, betrayal, sadness, anger. There were so many things left unresolved between you that it made your head pound and your heart ache. But you had to force yourself to come back to reality.
“You're not real,” you said, fighting to keep your voice from shaking, “you. . . you're dead. I was just at the gate in Eddie's trailer, I'm not actually here. . .”
Billy's brow creased, his head slowly tilting to the side. His movements were deliberate. Calculated. Nothing at all like him. You were frozen in place as he approached you, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. His hand was ice cold but you jerked away from his touch like you'd been burned. Fear shot up your spine, yelling at you to get the hell out of there.
“Don't touch me,” you said, stumbling slightly as you backed away from him.
“(Y/n),” the image of Billy tutted, snapping the red notebook in his hands shut and tossing it on your desk. He put out his cigarette on the wood next to it, his eyes flickering up to yours. “That's all you have to say? I gotta admit I expected more from you, sweetheart. After all. . . you let me die.”
You felt bile rise in your throat as red suddenly began to seep through his white tank top, blooming from the center of his chest. The fabric ripped open by itself as Billy slowly walked towards you, a hole in his torso growing and growing until you could see the other side of your room clean through him. Your vision blurred and you felt tears burn behind your eyes, spilling over and down your cheeks.
As he reached out for you again, your fight or flight response jolted through your body, making you move without thinking. You quickly grabbed the reading lamp from your desk, smashing it into the side of his head. You shoved him aside with all the force your could muster, running past him to your door. You should have noticed that something was wrong when you were able to swing it open when it had been locked before, but your brain was just telling you to run, overriding everything else in your mind.
You slammed the door behind you, about to take off down the stairs until you realized you were no longer in your house. You were in Eddie's trailer, standing in the middle of the living room. Your eyes darted up to the ceiling, looking for a way to escape, but the gate wasn't there.
'That's because this is all in your head,' you reminded yourself, the logic cutting through the noise in your brain for a split second, 'you have to fight this.'
But as soon as your eyes drifted down from the ceiling you cried out, Billy suddenly not a foot away from you. You turned to run but he was there again, seemingly in front of you no matter where you looked. His skin was gray and decomposed, eyes pure white and glassy. Blood stained his clothes and hair, and open sores ate away at his body, exposing the chords of muscle and bone beneath.
“You let me die. . .” he repeated, maggots falling from his mouth as he spoke and his voice distorted into a guttural growl.
Billy's face began to morph. His skin moved like liquid, melting and rearranging itself on his face. His hair darkened and uncurled to past his shoulders, his clothes flickered into different colors, and to your horror the final result was Eddie staring back at you, speaking in the same distorted voice.
“. . . and you replaced me without a second thought.”
“Robin, where's that music?!” Steve yelled over his shoulder.
“I can't find a player anywhere!” Robin's voice echoed through the gate, “and Dustin isn't answering!”
Steve, Nancy, and Eddie were losing you fast; your body was now halfway out the door of Eddie's trailer, the vines pulling you down the steps and towards the forest.
“Then we need fire,” Nancy said, bracing herself against the door frame, “Anything flammable you've got!”
Eddie's eyes darted from you to his kitchen and back again, an idea forming in his head.
“Buckley, there's a bottle of tequila in the cabinet under the sink,” Eddie called out, his grip on your body slipping, “Throw it down here!”
He left your side for only a second to catch the liquor Robin tossed through the gate.
“Try Henderson again,” he told her quickly, “code fucking red!”
Robin nodded, disappearing to the radio while Eddie ran back outside to where Steve and Nancy had lost another three feet between you and the forest's edge.
Eddie's eyes traced the vines wrapped around you to a central mass of them near the trees, and he immediately set off towards it. He uncorked the bottle, pouring it over the vines until it was empty.
“Don't even think about it, you bastards!” he seethed, taking his lighter out of his pocket and a page from your book as he lit the alcohol and set the entire root system ablaze. He stumbled to the side to avoid the flames, and a screeching sound pierced his ears as the roots writhed and retracted, loosening their grip on you just enough for Steve and Nancy to pull you away.
Eddie rushed over to you, checking to see if you were responsive in any way, but you still were in a catatonic state, starting to tremble slightly.
“We need to get her out of here, now,” Nancy said, hooking your arm over her shoulder as she started to make her way back inside the trailer. Steve moved to help her, but Eddie was frozen as he caught a slither of movement in his peripheral vision.
“Wheeler, watch out!”
But his words of caution were a second too slow. A thick vine suddenly latched itself around Nancy's waist, flinging her across the room. Nancy hit the wall with a loud thud!, the back of her head smacking hard against the metal.
“Nancy!” Steve shouted as she slumped over. Before he could do anything, the vines coiled around him too, pulling him to the opposite side of the trailer and out of reach.
“Shit!” Eddie panicked, trying to force the door closed, but fresh vines emerged from outside, prying it open and nearly ripping it off its hinges. His eyes darted to you and he bolted to your side, barely catching your arm before he felt something wrap around his calf and he was pulled away. Eddie lost his grip on you, your body still standing in the middle of the room. He tried in vain to reach you as the vines wrapped around his legs and wrists, fastening him against the wall. He yelled out as he used every ounce of his strength to try and break free, but the vines only tightened around him.
It was then that they heard a horribly familiar shrill shriek cut through the air from outside, the chorus of growls and the flapping of wings confirming their fears. A group of five or so demobats swooped down from the sky, entering the trailer in a whirl of gray skin and fangs. Steve, Nancy, and Eddie prepared themselves for the inevitable bites, but they never came. Instead, the bats began to circle you, eventually wrapping their tails around your arms and torso.
“NO!” Eddie shouted, pulling at the vines as he realized what they were about to do, but he could only watch as the bats managed to lift your limp form a few feet off the ground, slowly dragging you out of the trailer and heading to the forest. He let out a guttural cry as he saw you disappear from his sight, doubling down on his efforts to break free. The vines tightened again in response, and he began to feel the circulation cutting off in his fingers and toes. He let out a gargled gasp as he felt one wrap around his neck, coiling up his windpipe.
“Eddie!” Steve grunted, looking around for something to get them out of this. Your knife on the floor was completely out of his reach. Nancy groaned and shifted on the ground, unable to get up. “Shit,” he cursed, gritting his teeth as he felt the vines squeezing at the fresh wounds on his abdomen, pain shooting through his body.
He refused to give up. There was no way they were losing you and going out like this, but this time it really did seem like there was nothing he could do.
Just as Eddie began to see dark spots dance in his vision, a crash rang out in the trailer as Robin came sliding down the rope through the gate, tumbling to the floor and ignoring the friction burns on her hands. She quickly picked up what she had dropped from her fall, which Steve realized was a can of hairspray. Robin gave it a few shakes before flicking her lighter on and placing it in front of the nozzle.
“This better work like it does in the movies,” she said, taking a step back as she unleashed a stream of flames on the vines closest to Eddie. The screeching from the vines was twice as loud as they were from the alcohol fire before, the continuous heat making them retreat from Eddie's throat and limbs, dropping him unceremoniously to the floor. He coughed out as fresh air entered his burning lungs, gasping as the oxygen flooded back to his brain.
Robin turned quickly, catching a few sneaking vines in her line of fire that were making their way towards her before doing the same to the ones trapping Steve. He winced as he fell to his knees, the pressure on his wounds finally letting up.
Robin turned her makeshift flamethrower to the vines littering the ceiling and floor, the heat rushing across her skin as she torched the rest of them for extra measure. Finally the vines' squeals and shrieks died out, their movements down to a few limp twitches here and there. She knew it wouldn't kill them off permanently, but they'd at least bought themselves some more time.
“They have her,” Eddie told Robin, his voice breaking as she helped pull him to his feet, “they took (Y/n).”
Nancy's head swam from her position on the floor, Eddie's words echoing in the back of her mind. You were gone? No. . . That couldn't be right. She slowly forced herself to stand, ignoring the throbbing of her brain against her skull as she held herself up.
“Nancy,” Steve said, limping over to her as he got his bearings, “Are you okay? Take it easy, alright?”
But his words flew right past her. Her eyes focused loosely on the open door of the trailer, and Steve seemed to realize what she planned on doing right as she sprang into action.
“Nancy, no!” Steve screamed after, but there was no stopping her. Nancy raced down the steps, barely stopping to turn over her shoulder and shout,
“Find a way to get music to her. Something loud!”
She kept running, bearing with the burning in her legs as she reached the end of the trailer park. Spotting a row of abandoned bikes leaning against the fence, she selected one at random and took off in your direction. There was only once place those bats could be taking you. Sure enough, she heard the screech of the demobats as she approached the main road that led all the way down to the Creel house. Nancy sped up her pedaling as she spotted you, keeping her eyes trained on your figure as she closed the distance between you. She refused to lose anyone today.
The Eddie in front of you was not Eddie. He looked exactly like him, even wearing the clothes you had last seen him in right down to the new tears in his Hellfire shirt, but the malicious expression that took over his face was one of a stranger.
“That's all I am to you, right?” the copy said, approaching you, “A replacement. A filler to ease that guilt in your heart; to tell you Billy's death wasn't your fault when it was.”
You fought the sob in your chest as the thing in front of you took on Eddie's voice, replacing the distorted monotone from before.
“And that's not even the worst part,” Eddie's voice chuckled darkly.
“(Y/n). . .”
At the sound of the new voice you turned on impulse, your heart breaking as you saw Chrissy standing there in her cheer uniform, just like the last time you ever spoke.
“You actually thought I did it, didn't you?” Eddie's voice taunted you, the sound surrounding you, “When the police report first came out.”
In the blink of an eye Eddie was suddenly standing behind Chrissy, one hand at her neck, the other tightly grasping one of her wrists.
“(Y/n),” Chrissy whimpered, tears flowing down her cheeks, “Help me. . .”
A blood-curdling sound left Chrissy as Eddie snapped her wrist, and a scream tore through your throat as you squeezed your eyes shut hard.
'It's not real,' you told yourself, tears flowing down your face as you desperately tried to suppress the fear and panic flooding your body, 'You know what this is. Don't let him win. . .'
Your hands balled into fists at your side, wrangling your fear into submission. Billy would never make you feel guilty over his death, and Eddie would never blame you for your suspicions while you were grieving the death of a friend. He would never hurt anyone. You knew that. You knew them.
Suddenly, the room seemed to go cold, and you felt a new presence that made your stomach churn. There were no doubts as to who it was that was taunting you. Torturing you. Invading your mind. You forced yourself to release the breath trapped in your lungs before you slowly opened your eyes, facing him for the first time.
The second he came into focus in your vision, you had to fight not to cry out. To run. You'd heard him described by Max, but that was nothing compared to actually standing in front of him.
The aura emitting from him was oppressive— suffocating. He seemed to tower over you despite the distance between you, his form thin and gangly but terrifying none the less. His skin was desecrated, his entire face and body made up of what looked like gray scar tissue with thick chords of tendon exposed in his neck and chest. The planes of his face were hardened and fixed into a permanent scowl, his nose a carved out indentation in the middle of his monstrous visage.
The only thing that looked even vaguely human about him was his left eye, startlingly blue in contrast with his right which was almost entirely rotted out. Every subtle movement from him released a horrid squelching sound; you could hear his skin tearing and the joints of his bones scraping together as he walked. He radiated power. An ugly, purely evil power that made you sick just standing in it— breathing it in.
“This is a terrible idea,” Steve said frantically, following Eddie through his trailer.
“You got a better one, pretty boy?” Eddie huffed, throwing the tangled mess of guitar chords over his shoulder and shoving a pedal board into Steve's hands, “Even if Wheeler gets (Y/n)'s body back, Vecna will still have control over her mind. I'm not doubting her, but as far as we know no one's been able to snap out of that trance by themselves. Wheeler's right, she needs music. And this is the fastest way to get it to her.”
“Do you even hear yourself?” Steve said incredulously, “Let's say somehow your incredibly stupid plan works and she can hear the song wherever she is. If the sound reaches her, it'll reach those bats too, and the rest will come straight for you.”
Eddie turned to face Steve, shooting him a tight grin as he grabbed the rope between the gates, his guitar already slung across his back.
“Then I guess you'll have to help cover me, won't you, Harrington?”
Steve and Robin looked at each other, an unspoken exchange between them. Robin tore open the kitchen drawer, pulling out a long, metal skewer and giving Steve an expectant look. Steve sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers before looking back up at Eddie, decided.
You forced yourself to stand your ground, Vecna's one-eyed stare penetrating your soul. He simply stood there, showing no sign of making a move to kill you, which is the first thing you thought he would do. After all that he had the gall to do nothing. You furiously wiped your tears away with the back of your hand, your nails digging into the skin of your palms.
“What do you want with me?” you asked, your voice raw and tired and charged with anger, “I was never marked. The headaches, the visions, the clock, none of that. Why get inside my head?”
“Do not think you're so special,” he said, his voice layers of deep, frayed echoes that boomed through the space, “It could have been any one of your friends. You were simply the easiest to break.”
“Then why haven't you killed me already?” you said boldly, though your voice betrayed the intense fear you felt.
Vecna's chest rumbled in something almost like a chuckle as he tilted his head slowly to look at you.
“Peculiar, the human mind,” he said, “You don't think anything like other species. For example, spiders. They are intelligent. Opportunistic. Willing to kill their counter parts if it means their own survival. Humans are weak creatures. When one of their own is taken from them, the rest of their pathetic little pack will do anything to get them back, even if it means their own destruction. . .”
“We're gonna die,” Robin said, clutching the barbecue skewer in her hands.
“We're not going to die,” Steve said firmly. He doubled knotted the last of the fabric strips they'd woven through the holes of the metal fence in front of Eddie's trailer, kerosene still dripping from the wet material.
“So how sure are we that the top of this isn't coming down?” Steve asked Eddie, gesturing to the metal awning above them, crudely fastened to the fence with loose wire and rope.
“Not very,” Eddie replied, shoving an aluminum bat into Steve's grip.
“Great,” Steve mumbled, “Maybe we are gonna die.”
The dark clouds above them swirled with the force of the wind, intermittent flashes of vermilion lightning occasionally cutting through the smog. They had about twelve by twelve feet of fenced off area to work with, and the smell of gasoline was strong in the air. Not the most ideal place for a concert, but it would have to do.
A momentary crack of feedback was heard as Eddie plugged in his guitar, cranking his amp as high as the volume would go. He snapped his guitar pick necklace off in one quick motion, feeling the familiar weight of it in his hands.
Music. . . a song that held meaning for you. . . something loud.
He took a deep breath, running through the tabs of the song in his mind one last time. With a click of the pedal at his feet the drum track kicked in, and Eddie looked to the sky, praying that you would hear and that he was playing it right.
As Vecna's words sunk in so too did your stomach, horrid realization washing over you.
“You're using me as bait,” you said.
“The girl will come for you,” Vecna said simply, “Perhaps they all will, in a futile rescue attempt. And they will fall.”
El. . . the others. . . you would never let that happen. But you also knew that they would do anything to get you back, just like he said. Your eyes flickered around the room, looking for some way to escape, and Vecna grunted disapprovingly.
“It's no use,” he said, “your body is already within my grasp. . .”
A vision suddenly flashed behind your eyelids. You could see the road beneath you, but your feet weren't moving. The flapping of wings was loud in your ears, and something was approaching you from the road below. The blurry image sharpened for a fraction of a second to reveal someone on a bike. Was that Nancy? You gasped as the image disappeared, taken from you as quickly as it was given.
“. . . and your mind is weak,” Vecna finished.
He took a menacing step forward, seemingly crossing the length of the room in one step. The lights around you began to flicker vigorously, and as he raised his left hand your body suddenly stiffened, and you were unable to move.
“Until the time comes, it's time for you to sleep.”
You tried to cry out but realized you couldn't open your mouth. Every muscle in your body was under his control.
He raised one finger, your body slowly lifting off the ground to be eye-level with him.
“Do not worry,” he said lowly, “When you awaken, your friends will already be dead.”
Suddenly, something shook the room; a low rumbling sound. You thought you'd imagined it at first— a warbling note, just barely audible to you. But when you realized Vecna's brow had furrowed, you knew it wasn't your imagination. You focused on the sound, and the more you honed in on it the clearer it became, gradually taking the shape of something more concrete.
That's when you realized.
The sound was an electric guitar, its tone rich and vibrant. It was playing a song you knew, although rearranged— slightly faster, a slightly different feel. And although there was no one singing the lyrics, the guitar played the vocal melody of the words you already knew.
'Girl, you're the California breeze that sends me on my way. . .’
Billy's song for you.
And you knew the only person that could possibly be playing it was Eddie.
You couldn't help it; you laughed.
Your heart swelled in your chest; fresh tears prickled at your eyes, but you were smiling ear to ear. Your reaction seemed to give Vecna genuine pause. You just kept on laughing.
Your memories of Eddie came flooding in as the music grew louder: That very first day he'd tapped you on the shoulder from that tree, surprising you in the most delightful way with a conversation you never thought you'd have. Seeing the joy and passion in his eyes as you watched him play his show at the Hideout, and the way he looked at you afterwards that night in his trailer. How he always managed to make you laugh even when you were at your lowest. . .
“You're something else, (L/n),”
“What won you over? My roguish charm?”
“Besides, I can't die yet. I never got to see Labyrinth with you.”
“In my experience, if someone sacrifices his life for the rest of his party, he did it so that they could live theirs to the fullest potential. Jumping back into this shit head first, being as fearless as you are after everything you've seen. . . I think he'd be proud.”
A surge of power and determination rushed through your body, and before you knew what you were doing, you found yourself able to move again. You raised your legs, much to Vecna's surprise, kicking him square in the chest before you dropped to the floor with a yelp. It wasn't enough to do any actual damage, but the force of it combined with Vecna's shock that you had broken out of his control was enough to give you time, which is all you needed.
Without looking back you scrambled to your feet, ripping the door of the trailer open and slamming it shut behind you. The florescent light that you walked into blinded you momentarily. You winced, squinting as your eyes adjusted to the sudden change.
You could still hear Eddie's playing, but the music had become fainter again; the sound of it distant. If Max's experience was anything to go off of, you just had to follow it to the source.
As your vision finally cleared, you were met with a bright white room. One pair of large double doors seemed to be the only way in or out. As you looked around you noticed various children's toys and board games in different colors littered the tables and floor around you. And as you saw the multicolored stripe of paint following the angles of the walls, you realized what you had just walked into.
You were in the Rainbow Room.
It was exactly as El had described it when she recounted her past. But how were you there? These weren't your memories.
Cautiously, you pushed open the doors, and the music immediately became clearer in the hallway. You took off down it, rounding a corner before skidding to a stop at what you saw. There was someone standing in the next hall with their back facing you. They were wearing a form fitting white velcra suit, their head shaven. You approached them cautiously, and it dawned on you that this was the first person you'd encountered in this mind prison that didn't feel like Vecna underneath. Their presence was benign— familiar. If you didn't know any better, you might have even thought it was. . .
“El?”
And to your complete and utter shock, she turned around to face you, looking equally surprised.
Nancy had nearly caught up with you on her bike, the bats picking up their pace as they headed down the main road. Nancy could hear the music from the trailer, and it seemed like you could too. Even as you remained unconscious, Nancy caught the slightest twitch of your hand as the sound of the guitar reached you. Whatever they were playing back there, it was working.
'Come on, (Y/n),' Nancy thought, 'You can fight this. Just hang on a little bit longer. . .'
Eddie had never been so focused on playing a piece of music in his life. Usually when he was putting on a show, he was performing original songs he'd written and rehearsed time and time again with his band. The riffs and solos felt like second nature to him, but this was different. This was someone else's music. Someone other than him poured their heart and soul into this song, and although he still firmly held his belief that Billy Hargrove was an asshole, Eddie wanted to do it justice; for you if nothing else.
Every note he played, every chord, every click of the pedal beneath his feet felt like he was fighting for your life, and the thought only made him twice as determined even though he knew what was coming.
Steve heard them before he saw them; a hundred tiny screeches, overlapping and echoing each other. He watched them appear over the horizon like black static washing over the sky.
“Holy shit,” Robin said, her eyes trained on the swirling cloud of demobats headed straight for them.
“Get ready,” Eddie said, never pausing his playing for a second.
All three of them took an instinctive leap back as the bats crashed into the fence, their necks reaching through the gaps in the metal, talons clawing at the ropes above. The fence rattled wildly as the bats immediately tried to find a way inside.
“Light 'em up, Harrington!”
At Eddie's command Steve reached out with his lighter, igniting the kerosene strips woven into the fence. They watched the flames race across the surface, catching on each piece of fabric until they were faced with a wall of fire in front of them. The demobats squealed, spiraling away from the flames as it lapped at their wings and tails.
Some of them took off, but most of them tried to find a way around, going straight for the gaps between the awning roof and the fence. Robin jumped as one of them began clawing its way inside, half of its body already through the gap. She stabbed blindly with skewer in her hands, and she felt her gut twist at the resistance she felt as she ran it straight through, gray liquid spewing out.
Steve was facing the same problems on this side; as one of them made it fully through he swung his bat around, whacking it in the side before smashing it into the floor for good measure. Another managed to slip through at the same time, headed straight for Eddie.
Eddie's eyes widened as he ducked, covering the wonky note with a quick bend as Steve grabbed the demobat by the tail, swinging it in a wide arc and smashing it into the flaming fence.
Steve and Robin continued to fend off the stragglers that made their way past the wall, but as the fire began to die down the bats grew bolder, shaking the fence on its hinges in the ground and threatening to take it down altogether, and more and more demobats began to find a way past it.
At one point three of them managed to get through all at once. The first headed for the wires on the floor, and Eddie quickly stomped on it, kicking it into the side of his amp. Another flew straight at Robin, and she grunted as it dug its claws into her shoulder, knocking her back into the trailer as a second followed. Robin rolled to the side, smashing the first demobat into the corner of the kitchen counter. As she turned her attention to the second, she saw it had disappeared, or that's what she thought until she saw a flash of gray fly up towards the ceiling and through the portal to the real world.
“Shit!” Robin panted, “it just went through the gate.”
“What?!” Steve turned around, knocking another demobat off the fence with the handle of his bat.
“You stay here,” Robin said, “If that thing leaves the trailer in the real world it'll be loose on Hawkins.”
She didn't leave either of the boys any time to argue with her, throwing her weapon through the portal before grabbing onto the rope and climbing back up.
“Wait!” Steve called after her, but to no avail. “Damn it,” he cursed, hitting another one of the bats out of the sky. Five more came through, the fence weakening and the gap between the awning growing by the minute. Steve cried out as one of them clawed into his shoulder, and he forcibly backed up into the wall of the trailer, crushing it between the metal plating and his body.
The second one latched itself onto Eddie's arm, biting through the leather. He grit his teeth, tearing it off and ignoring the pain as he jammed it into the floor with the headstock of his guitar.
While they were fending them off, the other three demobats whizzed past them, and they caught sight of them heading up through the gate where Robin was alone.
Eddie swallowed hard, sparing a glance back at the rattling fence, the bats even more ravenous now that the fire was dying down.
“Harrington, get up there,” Eddie said.
“What?” Steve turned to him incredulously.
“Buckley's outnumbered by herself. If you don't help her right now, she'll die.”
“If I leave you here alone then you will,” Steve argued.
The knowing look that Eddie leveled him with made Steve's stomach drop.
“No,” Steve said, “Absolutely not.”
But Eddie had already made up his mind.
“Let me do this, man,” he said, “Every year I tell myself it's the year I'm finally gonna do something great, but it never actually happens. Now it's my year. If this is the one meaningful thing I do— saving (Y/n)'s life. . . I'm okay with that.”
Steve stared at him wildly, his mind scrambling to find another way, but the more time he spent thinking about it, the longer Robin was in danger.
“Damn it, Eddie. Damn it!” Steve cursed, ending his battle with himself and turning towards the gate. Just before he reached the rope, Eddie called out over his shoulder.
“Steve?”
He turned to look at Eddie, taken aback at the first time he'd ever called him by his first name.
“. . . Take her to see Labyrinth for me.”
The words struck Steve hard in the chest; his jaw clenching as he shook his head.
“Take her yourself when you make it out of this alive,” he said, his voice rising over the sound of the bats, “Forget dying for her, Eddie. (Y/n) wouldn't want that. Fucking live for her, you maniac!”
Eddie stared back at him and managed a tight grin, nodding; even as they were both painfully aware of the probability of that happening.
Suddenly a scream tore through the air from above: Robin.
Eddie quickly jerked his head towards the gate at Steve.
“Go!”
Eddie watched Steve frantically climb up the rope and disappear through the gate. He took a deep breath, pausing his playing only to slam the door of his trailer shut, turning back to the wall of bats in front of him. The fence was creaking, turning in on itself, the last flames from the fire slowly flickering out.
He was scared. God, he was fucking terrified. He always said there was no shame in running, but if running now meant that you would die, there wasn't a bone in his body that would let him do that. He stared down the hoard of bats, hearing the groan of creaking metal as they began to pry the fence from the ground. Eddie's eyes never left them as he shifted his hands up the neck of the guitar, coming up on Billy's solo.
'(Y/n). . . this is for you.'
He closed his eyes as he strummed down at full force, a screeching high note singing out into the Upside Down as the fence came toppling over.
“This tastes like God,” Eddie said, his mouth full of the now-cold pizza you had heated up for the kids earlier. He ate it like a man starved, which you supposed he probably was.
“You'll choke to death if you keep acting like this is the last time you'll ever taste food,” you jabbed, “Have you been eating at all these last few days?”
“Oh, like a king,” he said, a sardonic glint in his eyes, “Handfuls of dry cereal, lukewarm spaghetti o's-”
“Lukewarm?”
“Hey, the gas doesn't work that well at Reefer Rick's, okay?” he said, putting his hands up in defense before snatching another piece of pepperoni from the oven tray. You cracked a smile at that, and Eddie felt a little swell of pride in his heart as you tried to hide it. After the conversation you had, it was good to know you seemed to be doing better.
Suddenly, Dustin appeared in the kitchen doorway, one hand full of papers and a walkie talkie in his other. As his eyes landed on you they widened in surprise.
“There you are,” he said, “We've been waiting for you guys for the past half hour, what were you two doing up there anyways?”
“Um-”
“We were just-”
“Oh god, I don't want to know,” Dustin gagged at your flushed faces and overlapping words, putting the papers up in front of his eyes.
“No, Dustin, it's not-”
“I said I don't want to know!” Dustin said hurriedly, putting his papers down on the dining room table and starting to shuffle them around.
“Sorry about that,” you turned back to Eddie, fighting off your embarrassment, “He's a good kid, it's just that sometimes he can be kind of. . .”
“A twat?” Eddie offered.
“That's the one,” you huffed.
“The twat can hear, you know,” Dustin said over his shoulder.
“Language, you little shit,” Eddie called back.
“Hey, Dustin,” Nancy popped her head into the dining room at the sound of the commotion, Robin and Steve by her side, “any leads on finding us a way into the Upside Down?”
“Not yet,” he said, still rifling through the papers, “I'm looking for anything we might've missed.”
“Any luck contacting the California crew?” Robin asked.
“Nope,” Lucas said, catching the tail end of the conversation as he entered the room with Max, “Dustin and I have tried to radio every day, but no one ever picks up.”
“I hope they're okay,” Nancy said, worried about everyone but especially Mike. Out of all the times this shit had to resurface, of course it was when he, Will, and El were away.
“The best thing we can do for them right now is taking Vecna down,” you said, “from what you've told me, he won't stop until he gets what he wants or we kill him.”
“And how do we do that, exactly?” Steve asked, “what, just go in there with a rifle?”
“Does he have any weaknesses?” Eddie asked from the kitchen.
“Not that we know of,” Lucas said.
“What about music?” you asked, “Didn't you say Max broke herself out of Vecna's trance with it?”
“Yeah, but that's more defensive strategy,” Dustin said, “if we're looking to attack, we've got nothing so far.”
“I'd say fire has been pretty effective,” you said, ruminating on your previous experiences with the Upside Down's residents.
“Hold on, we still don't even have a way to get to him,” Eddie said through another slice of pizza, “I know you want to go at this guns blazing as soon as possible, but if you ask me-”
Eddie's next step gave way to a loud crunch! making him look down to find the cause of the grit beneath his shoes: a broken fridge magnet.
“Shit, sorry,” he said, picking up the pieces.
“Don't worry about it,” you said, “they're getting old anyways. They haven't been sticking for the last couple days.”
“Wait, what did you say?” Dustin said, his head snapping towards you.
“I just said the magnets. . .” you trailed off, your eyes widening with your own realization.
Eddie looked between you and Dustin in open confusion as you quickly went around the kitchen counter and picked up another magnet. You stuck it on the fridge, only for it to slide right off.
“Bingo!” you said, your excited expression matching everyone's in the room except Eddie.
“Uh, someone want to catch me up here?”
“Demagnetization is one of the possible affects of a nearby magnetic field!” Lucas said, his words running together in a rush of adrenaline.
“Yeah, the last time this happened, there was a secret Russian organization that was tearing open a portal to the Upside Down,” Steve said.
“Hold on, what?” Eddie rubbed his temples.
“Long story,” Robin told him sympathetically, turning back to you, “the important thing is El closed the Russian gate, and we're nowhere near the lab.”
“But we are right next to the lake where Patrick was attacked,” Max said, looking out the window where the expanse of deep blue could be seen not too far away, “And (Y/n), you said the magnets stopped working-”
“Two days ago,” you finished, “the night that he died.”
The air in the kitchen was charged with the collective realization that could finally give you a sliver of a lead.
“Whenever Vecna kills, he leaves behind a tear in our world at the site of the attack,” Dustin concluded.
“Like a mini gate,” Nancy said, “We might've just found our way in.”
“Yeah, in the middle of a lake,” Steve countered, “we don't even know exactly where.”
“Yes we do,” Dustin said proudly, holding up a small silver compass like a trophy. As he walked closer to the lakeside window the needle began to move erratically, faster and faster.
“Dude, you really carry that with you everywhere?” Steve deadpanned.
“The more unstable this becomes the closer we are to the field's center: to the gate,” Dustin said, ignoring Steve's remarks, “We have a map straight to Vecna. What are you all waiting for? We gotta go check this out!”
New energy burst forth in the room, the feeling of having something you could actually do about all this sending a wave of motivation through you. The kids began grabbing their things, and you followed suit, stuffing your pocket knife, your lighter, and a flask full of shit whiskey into your jacket pockets. If you've learned anything about the creepy crawlies of the Upside Down, it's that they don't take kindly to fire.
“I'm sorry, we are not going out there and jumping into that thing without a plan,” Steve said amidst the chaos, and you chuckled at the way he assumed his 'dad stance,' hands on his hips.
“And we're not,” you said, nudging past him to stuff a flashlight into your backpack along with a few lengths of rope, “First we have to see if this mini gate is even real. We're not gonna go charging in blind, this is just an investigation.”
“Then why are you packing like we're going into battle?” Steve said exasperatedly.
“Precaution,” you turned to him with a crooked grin, “Trust me, Harrington, if we were going into battle I'd bring a lot more than this.”
“I can't believe we're actually doing this,” Steve groaned as you pushed the boat into the water.
“I can't believe you're still complaining about it,” Robin said dryly.
“Where'd you even get a boat?” Lucas asked you.
“It was here when we moved in,” you said, “lakeside house and all. It'll do the trick, but it's kind of run down.”
“That's an understatement,” Eddie said, jumping when the railing he was leaning on came off entirely, “the thing's falling apart!”
“Yeah, speaking of, the motor doesn't work so we better get rowing,” you tossed him a wooden oar before stepping in which he barely caught.
“Tricking me into manual labor now?” he huffed with a well-meant grin.
“I'll admit it as long as you do it,” you chuckled.
Steve, Nancy, and Eddie followed you into the boat, and Dustin tried to follow suit.
“Whoa, stop right there, Henderson,” Eddie said, holding a hand out, “Max capacity.”
“What?” Dustin said incredulously, “it's my gate theory!”
“And it's my guilty conscience that'll keep me up at night if your ass drowns,” Eddie stated.
“I gotta agree with Munson on this one,” Steve said, “No way you kids are going out there.”
“It's for the best,” you said, shooting Dustin, Max, and Lucas an apologetic glance, “We need you guys on the shore in case anything goes wrong.”
Robin motioned for Dustin to hand over his compass, which he reluctantly did.
“We'll keep you updated,” you promised, holding up your walkie talkie before Steve pushed the boat away from the shore with his foot.
The ride to the center of the lake was tense, the rhythmic rowing of the oars dipping into the water the only sound accompanying you. Suddenly you caught movement in the corner of your eye; Dustin's compass, it's needle now spinning all the way around, and twice as fast as before.
“Hey guys, I think we're getting close,” you spoke into your walkie talkie, “the compass is going crazy, we're gonna check it out.”
“Okay,” said Dustin's voice, distorted from the radio, “Be careful.”
“Will do,” you said, “over and out.”
“Alright,” Steve grunted, getting up from his seat, “I'm going in.”
“Hold on, why you?” Robin shot Steve a look, “Aren't you the one who was moaning and groaning all the way here?”
“I'm also the one who was co-captain of the Hawkins High swim team and have three years of lifeguard experience under my belt,” Steve said, shucking his jacket off, “meanwhile you're too scared to get in the water at the beach.”
“That's different,” Robin grumbled under her breath.
Steve slid his belt off, getting rid of the extra weight before lifting his shirt over his head. Neither you or Robin missed the way that Nancy stared, and the two of you exchanged a mutual grin.
Steve stood at the edge of the boat, looking down into the water.
“Harrington?”
Steve turned at the sound of Eddie's voice, and the two locked eyes.
“Good luck,” Eddie said. The remark caught Steve slightly off guard. For him, it was hard to get a read on the metalhead at all, but he could tell he meant it.
“Thanks.”
And with that, Steve dived into the lake. The force shook the boat slightly, rocking the water around you until it slowly settled into stillness. Robin kept a close eye on her watch, every second hand tick deafening. Thirty seconds passed. Forty. A whole minute. And still no sign of Steve. Something kept clawing at your gut, telling you that something wasn't right. Just as you were about to decide to go in after him, his head broke the surface of the water, causing all of you to jump.
“It's here, I found it!” Steve said between breaths, resting his arms against the edge of the boat, “It's pretty big! I think we can-”
His body lurched down suddenly, and he nearly took the boat with him. You stared at him in the water, a horrible sense of dread descending onto your group a moment too late.
“That was weird,” Steve said, looking around.
In that instant, he was pulled under the water, the breath leaving his lungs in a panicked yelp before he was dragged down.
“No!” you shouted, reaching out for him but not fast enough. He'd disappeared into the lake.
“Steve!” Nancy screamed, not even bothering to take off her shoes before diving in after him.
“No, Nancy!” Robin cried, gripping her hair in a panic. Her frantic gaze caught yours, and you seemed to have the same thought at the exact same moment. Robin took a deep breath before flinging her denim jacket aside, sitting up on the edge of the boat.
“Oh no, don't even think about it,” Eddie warned her, “We have no idea what's down there!”
“Exactly,” Robin said shakily, “Which means I need to help them.”
“Shit!” Eddie cursed as she tumbled into the water, swimming after Nancy and Steve. It felt like there was too much air and not enough at the same time, his head pounding so severely he barely realized you were staring into the water yourself.
“Wait, (Y/n), no,” Eddie said his voice weighed with dread, “What are you doing?!”
“Steve's saved my life more than once,” you said, resolved, “So has Robin, so has Nance. I owe them this much.”
You turned towards the edge of the boat but Eddie caught your wrist, his eyes pleading; you could feel the tremmor in his hand as he did. Before you could even begin to formulate a response, you saw it; Along the dark line of the forest's edge, flashlight beams cut through the darkness. Not too far away were unmistakable flashes of red and blue lights.
“Jump in with me,” you said.
“What?” Eddie would have been less surprised if you kissed him or slapped him, both options he considered preferable to what you were asking him to do.
“Cops,” you said, pointing towards the forest, “I'm not leaving you behind, if you stay here they'll find you.”
“Shit,” Eddie breathed out, fear slowly squeezing the air out of his lungs, “Shit, shit, shit!”
Again your hand found his, and again you anchored him back to earth.
“We'll go together,” you said, “please, Eddie. Trust me.”
And for some inconceivable, completely unfathomable reason, he did. His eyes searched yours for even a sliver of doubt, but found none. He saw only determination, a promise, and that ever-present spark that had somehow wormed its way into Eddie's heart, whether he'd admit it to himself or not.
You both stood at the edge of the boat, hands intertwined, starring down into the murky abyss. And with a small squeeze of reassurance, you took the dive.
It was dark. Pitch black water enveloping you from all sides, drowning out any sense of up or down. The only thing reminding you of reality was Eddie's hand still in yours, his grip tightening almost as if to assure you he was real. Then it revealed itself: A flash of red, almost blinding in the inky water; a crack in the lake's floor no bigger than your living room table, and covered in twisting black vines that had become all too familiar to you. Together you and Eddie swam through the water, slowly making your way to the gate.
As you both reached forward to claw your way through, your stomach suddenly flipped, your head spinning. Your center of gravity was completely thrown off, and it took you a full five seconds to register that you were now on land, breathing in air. You were on your back, spat out onto the jagged, rocky floor of the lake that was completely barren in the Upside Down.
Red was all you could see; the sky, the ground, the horizon. You willed yourself to roll over onto your side, and through your blurred vision you could just barely make out Steve on the ground not too far away, a swarm of horrific creatures latched onto his body. They were faceless, only rows of fanged teeth and a forked tongue to constitute an expression. They had serpent-like tails, wings of rough, jagged skin, and claws that spanned half the length of their bodies. One of them had its tail wrapped around Steve's neck, slowly constricting him as two others chewed and clawed into his torso. Nancy was trying to fend them off, but there were too many others in the sky headed for her and Robin.
You growled lowly, forcing yourself to your feet and ignoring the wave of nausea you felt as you did. You ran as fast as you could over to them, drew your foot back, and kicked one of those monstrous bats feeding on him as hard as you could. It flew some distance away, skipping on the rocks twice before taking off back into the air. It would have been almost comical if Steve wasn't losing consciousness by the second.
You eyed the demobat around Steve's neck and stomped down hard, pinning one of its wings to the floor with your boot, which it didn't take kindly to. You cried out in pain as it sunk its fangs into your leg, and you twisted your foot away from its mouth. Steve was still struggling to get a breath in, the creature's tail unrelenting around his neck.
“Someone help me pin this thing down!” you yelled over your shoulder, and Nancy found an opening to come to your aid. She jammed her oar down into the demobat, its body skewered to the rocky floor.
“Mind your hair, Harrington,” you said, quickly taking your flask out of your jacket and dousing the creature in the cheap liquor. You stepped back as you flipped open your zippo lighter and threw it onto the writhing pile of flesh, watching it go up in flames. The demobat roared, immediately releasing its vice on Steve, and he gasped for air as it did. He rolled away from the flames, coughing as the pressure finally let up on his wind pipe.
“(Y/n), duck!” someone called out behind you, and you asked no questions. You threw yourself to the ground as Eddie swung his oar in a huge arc, swatting the bat that was heading for your head right out of the sky. It shrieked in anger, spiraling out of its flight pattern and scampering off into the red landscape.
The five of you stayed there, eyes darting to the sky as you caught your breath.
“Holy shit!” Eddie laughed in an even mix of giddy, childlike adrenaline and sheer fucking terror, “I actually just did that.”
“Welcome to the game, Dungeon Master,” you chuckled breathlessly, “Thanks for the save.”
“Says the Monster Slayer,” he jabbed, “not so much of a princess now.”
“Oh please, I'm a paragon of well-mannered royalty,” you grinned, gratefully taking the hand he held out to help you up. Eddie pulled you to your feet with somewhat surprising strength, the two of you landing much closer to each other than anticipated. One of his hands instinctively shot down to steady you at the waist, your hands against his chest.
You tried to tell yourself it was the adrenaline making your heart pound, and it partially was, but that was no excuse for the way your stomach erupted in butterflies as his ringed fingers rested at your hips.
Now it was Nancy's turn to shoot a look over to Robin, who caught it effortlessly. They smiled in mutual understanding as they watched you and Eddie.
“Hey, whenever you guys are done with your romance novel cover shoot, a little help would be nice,” Steve said from the floor, his voice hoarse.
Eddie flushed, grateful for the red cascading over this alternate dimension and for the distance put between you two as you went over to help Nancy.
“Cutting it a little close with the fire,” Steve said to you.
“You're welcome,” you rolled your eyes with a small grin, helping him to his feet. It was only then that you realized how bad his injuries were. Unlike the rest of you he was mostly unclothed, a trail of deep gashes and torn flesh littered across his torso.
“Oh my god,” Nancy said, “Steve-”
“It's fine,” he said, “I mean, they took about two pounds of flesh but I'm alive.”
“No, no we have to get him to a hospital,” Robin said, “Those gouges are deep and who knows if those things have rabies or what's in this horrible place that could infect it. I'd say he has thirty minutes tops before he goes septic.”
“Well don't sugar coat it,” Steve huffed.
“We have to get out of here,” you said, “we can treat him once we're topside, but it's not safe here.”
“Agreed,” Nancy said.
“Um, not to make anyone panic or anything, but that plan might have to wait,” Robin said, pointing over to the gate where you had come in, now guarded by a group of snarling demobats.
“It's only, like, five,” Eddie said with wavering confidence, “we can take 'em.”
As if on cue, a shrill, collective cry erupted from the sky, and you dared an upward glance to see an entire pack of those creatures descending from above— A swirling cloud of gnashing fangs and bloodied claws so dense it cast a shadow on the ground, creeping across the rocks towards you as they got closer and closer.
“Still think we can take 'em?” you glanced over at Eddie.
“You should never listen to me,” he said, “Run!”
Your group took off into the woods, your best chance of finding cover in the mostly open rocky terrain. You could hear the shrieks of the bats behind you, but you forced yourself to just keep moving.
“Is there someplace we can get out of their line of sight?” Robin panted, trying to keep Steve upright as she helped him along.
Nancy's eyes scanned the trees around her, her brow furrowing for a moment.
“Actually, yes!” She exclaimed, “I know where we are, we're nearby Skull Rock. Follow me.”
None of you were going to object to some cover, and so you did. Before long you arrived at the massive rock structure, its uncanny skull resemblance overtaken by vines. There was a small alcove underneath where it stood that Nancy ushered you all under before taking cover herself. It was a tight squeeze, and you had no time to rearrange yourselves as the bats flew overhead.
You found yourself with your back pressed against Eddie's chest, and you could feel his heart pounding as you waited for the monsters to pass over you. The screeching wave of bats seemed to never end, the sound piercing your ears and tightening your throat. It seemed like an eternity before their cries finally died down and you were left with silence.
“They're gone,” Robin said quietly.
There seemed to be a collective exhale between you, slowly making your way out from under the rock into the small forest clearing.
“Good call, Nance,” you looked over to her, “How'd you know where to go?”
“Oh,” she blushed slightly, avoiding looking over at Steve, “I've been here a few times, that's all.”
Speaking of Steve, he wasn't looking so good.
“Do we have anything to dress these with?” you asked around, looking over his injuries.
“Here,” Nancy said, ripping a line of fabric from the bottom hem of her shirt to make a long strip of makeshift gauze.
“This isn't going to be fun,” you warned him, taking your flask back out from your pocket and emptying the rest of its contents into his wounds. Steve howled in pain, squeezing Nancy's hand tight as the burn of the alcohol settled into his skin. Robin looked away, and Eddie winced at the phantom sensation.
“I'm sorry, but if we don't clean these they'll definitely get infected,” you told Steve, quickly wrapping the fabric around his torso. When it was time to tie them together you looked down at him. “You ready?” you asked.
“Yeah,” Steve said, not a trace of certainty in his voice.
“I'll count you down,” you said.
“Thanks,” he exhaled in relief.
“One. . .”
“ACK!!”
You tied the bandages in a tight knot, making Steve groan in pain and mentally curse you.
“(Y/n), I swear. . .” he glared.
“Sorry,” you said, tucking the ends in, “it's better if you're relaxed. It's either a second of surprise pain or you losing more blood than you already have.”
“. . . Thank you,” Steve said, his reluctance giving way to how close he had actually been to being a goner. The intensity of his stare took you by surprise.
“Uh, don't mention it,” you said.
The moment was broken by a blur of denim suddenly hitting Steve in the face, making you look over your shoulder where it came from to see Eddie with a less than amused expression on his face.
“For your modesty, dude,” he said to Steve, a shade of something in his voice you couldn't quite place.
Steve caught on right away though, holding back a chuckle and regretting it when pain bloomed in his stomach. Nancy helped Steve put on the vest as its original owner stared out into the horizon, taking his first real look at this world he'd fallen into.
The adrenaline from the fight had settled in his system, but Eddie's nerves were still buzzing just from being here. Everything about this place felt wrong. The red sky had all but disappeared in the thick black foliage of the forest, the primary hue of the world around him now an eerie gray-blue. The trees looked almost burnt, devoid of life. What looked like ash floated down from the sky, and the ground crackled beneath his feet with every step he took to avoid the slithering vines that covered everything. It was cold, his breath nearly showing in white puffs in front of him. But the sounds were the worst part. The demobats were gone, but in the distance, the screech of unknown terrors still echoed through the landscape. Crashing thunder from the sky, wind howling like raspy breaths too close to your ear— It was downright chilling.
“So this place is like Hawkins but with monsters and nasty shit?” he asked, looking back towards the group and trying to shift his focus away from actually taking in his surroundings before he lost his shit.
“Pretty much,” you said, “although it looks like it's gotten an MTV makeover since I've been here last. We have to get back as soon as we can.”
“But the gate we came through is a bust,” Robin said, “what the hell are we supposed to do now?”
“We try another one,” you said, “If Dustin's theory stands, there's one gate for every person Vecna has taken. I don't know where Fred was when he was killed, but. . .” you swallowed thickly, “We do know where Chrissy was.”
“My trailer,” Eddie said quietly.
“There should be another gate there,” you nodded.
The looks exchanged between the group were hesitant as they watched both your and Eddie's expressions fall. Chrissy was your friend, and Eddie had watched her die right in front of him; of course you wouldn't want to revisit that. But if it was your best shot at getting home, you'd do it.
“Well,” Robin cleared her throat in an effort to diffuse the tension, “Lead the way, banished one,” she said with a sweeping gesture towards Eddie.
“It'd be my honor to escort you,” he said with a little bow, grateful for the ticket out.
“Don't step on any of the vines,” Steve said, “or Vecna will know we're here and we'll be dead before you know it.”
“Ray of sunshine, aren't you?” Eddie muttered under his breath, taking off deeper into the forest.
You trekked through the woods, making your way to the trailer park while staying in the shadows and avoiding the vines littering the floor. Your progress was slow but steady, you and Eddie at the head of the pack. As you turned over your shoulder you saw Steve and Nancy walking an awkward distance apart, Robin between them. While the sight made you chuckle, it also made your chest ache as it reminded you of your incomplete party.
“God, I hope the kids are okay,” you said, stepping over a particularly large vine, “I mean, we've done this whole 'saving the world' thing before, but not when I couldn't make sure they were safe. We've never been separated like this. I mean, what if they got taken in by the police?”
“Those little shrimps might be young but they're tough as nails, you know that,” Eddie assured you, “Even if the cops did take 'em in, I'm sure Dustin's talking circles around them. Max is pretty much an unmovable force, and Lucas is probably figuring out a way to get to us as we speak.”
“You're right,” you sighed, “Sorry, I'm just overthinking. I know they can take care of themselves, it's just. . .”
“It's easier if they aren't alone,” Eddie finished.
“Yeah.”
Eddie glanced over at you, biting the inside of his cheek at your troubled expression.
“Y'know,” he started slowly, “Your, uh, fighting back there was pretty much the coolest thing I've ever seen.”
You couldn't help but laugh in surprise, shaking your head as you continued to walk through the forest.
“I'm serious!” Eddie grinned, “I mean, I've seen a lot of things, but I've never seen someone punt a flesh-eating sky demon like a football.”
“Just wait until you meet El,” you smiled, “But thanks. . . I had a good teacher.”
You cast a brief upward glance at the vermilion sky peeking through the trees— a silent thanks to Hopper, wherever he was.
“They're lucky to have you looking out for them, you know,” Eddie said, “those kids.”
Your heart swelled at that.
“You too,” you said.
“Like, I'm lucky to have you? Or the kids are lucky to have me?” Eddie joked.
“Both,” you poked him in the ribs. As he leaped away from you he stumbled over a tree root, almost stepping right on one of the vines if you hadn't reached out and caught his arm, pulling him forward before he tripped.
“Jesus, you're going to get yourself killed,” you exhaled, letting out the breath you didn't realize you were holding.
“Well, lucky me to have you here to save me, princess,” Eddie said with an upward quirk of his lips covering the jolt of receding fear.
“I thought I was a Monster Slayer now,” you huffed.
“Yeah, but you like princess better.”
You fought not to freeze in place at his words, at the way he practically purred the pet name. Your pulse roared in your ears, warmth blooming in your stomach.
“Besides, I can't die yet,” he said nonchalantly, as if he hadn't just sent your heart into a tailspin, “I never got to see with Labyrinth with you.”
The way his words struck you nearly took the wind out of you—
He remembered.
With everything going on and everything that had happened, he still remembered his movie plans with you.
“You're an idiot, Eddie Munson,” you said, your smile taking the bite out of the statement.
“A confession of love,” Eddie pretended to swoon, “and in as romantic a place as any,” he gestured around to the vile wasteland around you.
“You wish,” you teased.
God, he did. He really did.
Four days ago he never would have imagined he would be able to joke around like this in these circumstances; certainly not in a death-dwelling mirror dimension. The only reason Eddie hadn't lost his mind yet was because of you. You were, without a doubt, one of the strongest people he'd ever met. Not just because you were a badass with an oar, but because despite it all, you never lost yourself. That spark never went out. No matter how many people you lost, no matter how bad things seemed. And it's not as if you didn't feel things like grief, remorse, and pain, because you did— maybe more than most other people. You felt them so deeply they crept into your soul and left painful reminders in every guitar tab, every polaroid picture, every bowl of cereal. But you always found a way to push through to the other side, and that was more admirable than anything. You made him want to be the kind of person who persevered and came out stronger than before, because that's who you were.
You continued to walk, expecting some kind of witty remark from him after your last quip, but he said nothing; only ambling on alongside you in comfortable silence. Your heart caught in your throat at a passing thought, so quick it nearly disappeared before you could process it:
He hadn't denied it.
Unbeknownst to the both of you, Steve was trailing behind the group with Robin, a smile on his face as he watched the two of you. Every so often he would see you and Eddie drift together, a brush of a shoulder here, a reaching hand there, as if some invisible force were drawing you to each other. And it was blatantly obvious to everyone else except you two, apparently.
“Two weeks,” Robin said to Steve.
“Are you kidding?” Steve scoffed, “They're all over each other. Besides, did you see the look on his face when he threw his vest at me? I'm saying today.”
“Neither of them have timing that bad, dingus,” Robin rolled her eyes, “they're not you.”
The trailer park looked like something straight out of a post-apocalyptic B movie. All of the homes were broken down, practically falling apart at the seams. The sound of creaking metal echoed through the park as you came up to Eddie's trailer, equally run down and covered in rust and vines.
“Well, she's seen better days, but here we are,” Eddie said, grunting with effort as he wedged his shoulder between the door to force it open.
As soon as you stepped inside your hair stood on end. You made your way to the living room, and as your eyes drifted up your stomach churned. There on the ceiling was a bright red gash, just like the one at the bottom of the lake. It was covered by a thick membrane of something that almost seemed to pulse with life, and you blinked hard to get the image of Chrissy pinned to the ceiling out of your head.
“That's it all right,” Steve said, grabbing the broom resting against the wall and prodding the gate with it.
“What the hell are you doing?” Robin pulled his arm down.
“Do you want to go through this thing or not?” Steve sassed, “We've got to break it open.”
He shoved the handle of the broom straight through the membrane, a wet squelch ringing out in the room.
“God, I'm gonna hurl,” Robin looked away, covering her ears.
Steve continued to jab at the portal until most of the mess covering it was torn away. As he craned his neck to look up his eyes widened. You stood underneath it, following his gaze upwards.
“Woah,” you breathed out in awe. Through the gate you could see the image of Eddie's trailer in the real world, only flipped upside down, staring back at you like it was simply part of the ceiling itself and not an inter-dimensional portal.
“It's real,” Nancy said, a smile splitting her face, “this is actually going to work.”
“I'm not jumping through there,” Robin said, shaking her head furiously, “I didn't sign up to break my neck.”
“Don't worry, I got it,” you said, pulling out the rope you'd packed earlier from your backpack.
“And what exactly are you gonna tie that to?” Steve asked.
“I'm not sure we have to,” you said, looking up. You looped the rope around itself, holding onto one end and throwing the rest as hard as you could through the gate. It shot straight up, a dull thud sounding out as it hit the floor of the real world. From where you stood it looked like the rope was floating, your mind bending to register what was in front of you. You gave it an experimental tug and let it go, the rope now free-standing.
“I feel like our physics teacher might have something to say about this,” Eddie said, wide-eyed.
“Time to go home,” you grinned.
“Ladies first,” Steve gestured to Robin.
“Chicken,” she gave him a small smirk before grabbing onto the rope, testing its strength just in case before starting to climb.
“Who was it that was worried about breaking their neck just now, huh?” Steve scoffed lightly.
“Well that was before we had a cool rope swing,” Robin said, making her way up towards the ceiling. As she passed the threshold of the gate she yelped out in surprise as she felt her gravity shift, and suddenly instead of climbing up she was sliding down the rope, barely managing to land on her feet.
“Holy shit, that was actually kind of fun!” she said giddily.
“You're up,” Eddie said to you, holding out the rope on your end.
“I'll catch you!” Robin called out through the portal.
“My hero,” you laughed, taking the rope from Eddie. A jolt of warmth spread through your chest as you felt his hands back on your hips, this time to help give you a boost up the rope.
“Huh, you didn't do that for me. Wonder why,” Robin fake pouted, resisting the urge to burst out laughing as she caught the sharp look Eddie gave her.
“See you on the other side,” you smiled down to Eddie, Steve, and Nancy, before feeling yourself flip, and before you knew it you were falling instead of climbing. Your breath left you in a sharp puff as you landed on your back, but instead of being met with the hard floor, you became aware of the mattress beneath you.
You straightened immediately, trying to get a grasp on your surroundings. You suddenly realized that you weren't in Eddie's trailer at all, you were in your own bedroom. You quickly got out of your bed, trying your door but finding it locked. Panic set in like a virus.
“Robin?” you called out, “Nance? Steve? Eddie??”
No response. Your mind began racing, trying to make any sense of this. This wasn't possible. . .
“(Y/n).”
Your heart stopped, hearing a voice call your name loud and clear behind you; You'd know that voice anywhere. Your feet felt as though they were cemented to the floor. You tried to take a breath but your body refused, trapping the air halfway in your lungs. You slowly willed yourself to turn around, and immediately your mouth fell open in a silent, horrific scream, the sound stuck in your throat. A sob racked your chest, and you let out a choked noise as tears blurred your vision.
Billy Hargrove sat on your bed, a cigarette between his lips, turning over that old red notebook in his hands.
“What took you so long, sweetheart?”
Read Chapter 5 Here !
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The gang takes refuge in your house in an effort to keep Eddie safe and come up with a plan to defeat Vecna. You find yourself grappling with your budding feelings, the loss of a friend, your resurfacing past with Billy, and the return of a fight you thought was over. Luckily, you don't have to do it alone.
“You really need to stop naming these things after D&D monsters,” you sighed.
“Seconded,” Eddie grumbled, “it's confusing and mostly inaccurate.”
“So Vecna,” you corrected yourself, “has been targeting mostly young adults in Hawkins and uses their trauma to get in their heads and kill them?”
“More or less,” Max said grimly.
“Why?” you asked, “I mean, not to assume this thing has any real motives, but this is a step up from what we've dealt with before. You said he spoke to you, like real sentences and shit.”
“Yeah,” Dustin said, “He's definitely the most sentient being we've come up against from the Upside Down. The demogorgon was pure brawn, the mind flayer was pure brains, but Vecna has both. Not to mention the power to affect people in the real world without even crossing through the Gate.”
“Fantastic,” you deadpanned.
“As far as motive goes,” Robin said, “we've. . . got a theory.”
“Something tells me it's not good,” you said.
“It's not,” Dustin grimaced, “if we're going by traditional D&D lore and cross-referencing that with what he's been doing so far, we think his goal is the same as within the game.”
“Which is?” you asked warily.
“Destroying the foundations of the multiverse and reshaping reality to his will.”
You turned at the sound of Eddie's voice. Seeing him just sitting on your couch felt somehow surreal. A week ago he was the person who gave you inexplicable butterflies whenever you thought about him. Three days ago he was the person who ditched you at the movies and hadn't reached out since despite knowing your close friend had just died. An hour ago he was the person who had murdered said friend, and now. . .
You drew in a deep breath. You had to focus on the situation at hand; you could sort out your feelings later.
“Right,” you said, “So in D&D this is the guy with the cult, right? Should we be worried about him having a following?”
Eddie, Dustin, and Lucas stared at you like you'd grown a second head.
“What?” you huffed, “I pay attention when you twerps talk about your campaigns.”
“Color me impressed, if not somewhat concerned for my privacy,” Dustin said, earning an eye roll from you, “But yes, you're right. The Cult of Vecna doesn't seem to have any real world parallels, but we think he might be trying to build something like it.”
“When he had me trapped, he said it was time for me to join him,” Max said, “I saw everyone he took, and they were. . . ” she swallowed hard, the image all too clear in her mind, “they were almost on display. Like trophies on a wall. I don't know exactly what his plan is, but he's keeping everyone he's killed for a reason.”
Your stomach churned at Max's words, feeling your breathing turn shallow at the thought of him keeping Chrissy's body in that awful place, even if it was in another reality.
“Plus, we know the Mind Flayer was trying to do the same thing when it-” Steve faltered, trying to avoid mentioning Billy, “When it started taking over people's bodies in the real world,” he said carefully, “That thing was building an army.”
“And if we assume that most creatures from the Upside Down share the same goal,” Lucas said.
“That means we're royally screwed,” you finished.
“Not if we had El,” Nancy pointed out.
“El's the one with the superpowers?” Eddie asked.
“The one who's on the other side of the country and doesn't have superpowers anymore,” you amended, “What's your plan? Just waltz into the Upside Down through the Gate that doesn't exist anymore and kill a mostly invincible, mind-controlling monster without knowing where he is or having any idea of how to take him down?”
“Actually, we know where he is,” Robin said, “Nancy's a genius and found out Vecna had some sort of connection to the old mansion at the edge of town.”
“It used to belong to Victor Creel,” Nancy said, “That guy in the 50's everyone thought murdered his family. But Robin and I visited him, and he told us that what actually killed them was something that killed in the exact same way the recent victims died. It made him see visions of his past, of his worst fears. It lifted his wife into the air and broke her bones. It's the exact same curse.”
“Patrick was attacked when we were at the house investigating,” Robin continued, “and all the lights went crazy, just like they did the first time the demogorgon appeared.”
“So you think Vecna's lair is that house in the Upside Down?” you said.
“Almost certainly,” Dustin nodded, “Although finding a Gate and a way to kill him is still a work in progress.”
“When isn't it?” you sighed, “But I'm seriously proud of you guys for figuring all this out. It's not your first rodeo anymore.”
“We saved the world three times, we can do it a fourth,” Dustin grinned.
And for the first time in the last torturous few days, you found yourself smiling.
“I know we can,” you said. As you looked around the room you almost chuckled at the sight of this ragtag team of unlikely friends. If anything you looked like a knockoff Breakfast Club, not what you'd picture when you thought of a team of heroes. But the fate of the world as you knew it was once again placed in your hands, and you knew you would succeed. You had to.
“I'll, um. . . I'll just be a minute,” you said, getting up from your seat, “Anyone need water or anything?”
You were met with a chorus of shaking heads and muttered 'no, thanks' as you headed to the kitchen. You opened your fridge unit and fished out three frozen pizzas from the back. Not the most nutritious, but they'd do. You placed one on each rack of your oven, letting it do its magic. As you stood there waiting for them to finish baking you took a deep breath, your fingers instinctively coming up to massage your temples. Every part of this scenario was becoming increasingly unbelievable the more you thought about it. It felt like your brain was racing to catch up with its own thoughts, and a wave of fatigue washed over you.
Suddenly, Dustin's head popped out from the doorway and you immediately brightened, not wanting him to worry.
“Pizza?” he said, kneeling to stare straight into the oven.
“I could tell you guys were starving,” you said.
“How'd you know?”
“You twiddle your thumbs when you're hungry,” you grinned, “Steve might've taken my job, but I was your babysitter first.”
“Not a babysitter!” you heard Steve shout from the living room.
“He can keep telling himself that,” you chuckled, “Besides, you've been on the run for days. Can't imagine you were able to stop at a Burger Chef while you were hiding Hawkins' most wanted.”
Dustin gave you a pensive look. Even in a situation like, this your first instinct was to take care of them first.
“You seem. . . strangely calm for someone housing a fugitive,” he remarked.
“Oh, trust me, I'm not,” you said, “but the alternative doesn't help anyone.”
“(Y/n). . .”
“I'm fine, Dusty,” you said, “Maybe not right now, but I'll be okay.”
The silence that followed was suffocating. You kept your eyes trained on the kitchen timer, watching the minutes tick by.
“I saw what keeping everything inside did to Max,” Dustin said after some time, “I don't want that to happen to you.”
“You don't have to worry about me,” you promised, turning to fully face him, “I'm not going anywhere. Who else is gonna save your ass?”
“I think it's about time for us to save you for once,” Dustin scoffed playfully.
“We'll see about that,” you said. Another, more comfortable silence returned between the two of you. “You know I'm not going to let anything happen to you guys, right?”
“I know,” he said.
Dustin managed to go all of two seconds before flying at you, arms wrapping tight around your waist. You felt your eyes well up as you returned the hug. Dustin had always been like a little sibling to you; all of the kids had. You made a mental promise that you would do whatever it took to make sure everyone made it out of this alive, for their sake.
The high pitched sound of the kitchen timer rang out in the room, making the both of you laugh through your misty-eyed moment.
“You're turning me soft,” you said, playfully pushing Dustin away from you.
“You've always been soft,” Dustin said, “don't worry, I'll keep your secret.”
You huffed, concealing your smile as you got the pot holders out of the kitchen drawer, opening the oven door. The smell coming off the pizzas made your mouth water, and you reached in in anticipation. But just as you were pulling out the first tray, you bumped your arm on the top of the oven right above where the mitt's protection ended.
“Shit,” you cursed, quickly setting down the pizza down on top of the stove and pulling your hand back to inspect the angry burn on your arm, “Damn it. Dustin, could you please take the rest of these out and tell everyone it's time to eat? Carefully.”
“Will do,” he said, slipping the oven mitts on.
You ruffled his hair gratefully, making your way down the hall to the bathroom. You switched on the light and started the faucet, running your burn under the cold water. You hissed at the initial sensation before it began to sooth the pain.
As you looked up you were met with your own reflection in the mirror above the sink, although it looked like a stranger was staring back at you. Your eyes were red and puffy, dark circles hanging from beneath them. You were wearing the same pajamas as the day before, and your hair was an unprecedented mess. You stifled a laugh.
You looked like hell.
The thought seemed to click into something in the back of your brain, your mind drifting to the last time you had said something similar about yourself. Before you knew it, you were replaying snippets of the past in your head, one thing leading to another. . .
“Hey sweetheart,” Billy grinned from ear to ear as he let himself in, sliding past the door you opened with ease.“God, you look gorgeous.”
“I look like hell,” you retorted.
“Still just seeing gorgeous over here, doll.”
“Laying it on a little thick, Hargrove,” you laughed, “I'm already your girlfriend, if you didn't know.”
“I do know,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes as his hands trailed down to slide into your back pockets, “and I'm considering myself pretty damn lucky right now.”
“(Y/n)?”
“We could go to California.”
“You'd actually come with me?”
“Billy Hargrove, you're an even bigger idiot than you look.”
“(Y/n).”
“I'm so fucking sorry. (Y/n), please. I made a mistake.”
“Yeah you did, Billy. The same mistake. Three Times. God, I can't believe I actually bought your lies.”
“I wasn't lying. Not when I said I loved you. Hell, you're the only person I've ever even said that to since-”
“We're done, Billy. Please just leave.”
“(Y/n)?!”
“No. . . god, no. Please, Billy, hold on. . . fuck, someone help!”
“It's okay. . . Just. . . let me look at you.”
“(Y/n)!”
You jolted as someone grabbed your shoulders, shaking you slightly. You forced air back into your lungs, your hands trembling. As your heart rate finally slowed back to normal and your eyes could register what was in front of you, you realized that the person calling your name was Eddie, his eyes darting across your features.
“Hey, are you there?” he asked frantically, “(Y/n), tell me you're with me!”
“Yeah. . .” you blinked slowly, “yeah, I'm here.”
Eddie's shoulders visibly lowered as he sighed shakily, releasing his grip on you.
“Jesus, you scared me,” he said, turning the faucet off, “you weren't seeing that clock or anything, were you?”
Your eyes widened in horrid realization.
“No,” you shook your head, “Nothing like that. I'm sorry. . . I didn't mean to make you worry.”
“Don't apologize,” he said, and you could hear the tiredness in his voice, “I'm sorry for shaking you, guess I'm still kinda frazzled. When I saw you staring into space like that, I freaked. It was just like. . .”
He trailed off, and neither of you had to finish the sentence aloud to know what he was thinking. The ache in your chest when you pictured Chrissy's smile reignited like a fresh wound ripping open, and you fought the stinging in your eyes for the umpteenth time in the last few hours. Eddie could sense your pain so clearly it was as if it was a physical presence in the room, and his own heart broke seeing you like this.
“I couldn't save her,” he said; a helpless, sardonic little smile taking over his lips out of defensive habit. “I was right there and I did nothing, except run. Which is what I do now, apparently.”
“There's nothing else you could have done,” you said, placing a hand on his forearm in an attempt to ground him, “you can't blame yourself for this.”
“Never tell a Dungeon Master what is and isn't possible,” he said, his attempt at his usual lopsided smile coming out as more of a grimace than anything.
“Eddie,” you said softly, “I'm serious, please don't think like that. You couldn't have known how things were going to play out. If you take on the weight of what might have been if you did. . .”
Unwanted memories flashed through your head; The neon signs of Starcourt Mall blurring around you as you ran as fast as you could towards the Mind Flayer. The splatter of hot blood that hit your face as it ran Billy through the chest. Max's screams. The look in Billy's eyes as he told you he just wanted to look at you in his last moments because it felt like going home.
“. . . you'll just drive yourself crazy,” you finished, fighting hard to keep your voice even. “Vecna feeds on negative emotions. Fear. Anger. Guilt. We're already trying to save Max with borrowed time. I can't have him going after you too. I can't.”
“What, the monster-slaying princess wouldn't come to my rescue?” Eddie quipped, a tiny shimmer of that lost light back behind his eyes.
“Of course I would,” you smiled weakly, “But I'd like to avoid that all together, if possible. So please, for the sake of my own rapidly deteriorating mental state, don't think that any of this is your fault.”
“Guess I could make an exception to my usual thought process,” he said with a wry smile.
God, he looked. . . exhausted. Dirt streaked his face, and dark bags hung from his sallow eyes. You couldn't imagine he'd been sleeping well the past few days. His hair was flat and matted, his clothes covered in grime and new tears in the fabric.
“If you want to rest up and take a shower here you're welcome to, by the way” you said.
“You trying to tell me something?” Eddie huffed playfully.
“Well, you do smell like dirty swamp water.”
“Don't like the new cologne? All the basketball players wear it,” he grinned— his first genuine one that week, and it was impossible not to notice how his entire face brightened.
“Down the hall to the right,” you laughed, a warm feeling spreading through your chest, “You can leave your clothes outside the door and I'll toss them in the wash.”
“Thanks,” he said, “Seriously. Don't know a lot of other people willing to risk their hides for me. . . What won you over? My roguish charm?”
“Go take a shower, Eddie,” you bit back a smile, and your silent 'you're welcome' was not missed by him. As he left down the hallway your heart felt just a little bit lighter.
As you heard the water start to run you stopped by the door, seeing his clothes in a pile on the floor. You picked them up and tossed them in the washing machine for a quick cycle.
As you busied yourself with tidying up the rest of the house, you poked your head into the living room to see the kids eating the pizza you'd made and joking around with each other. A sense of relief came over you as you saw their smiles. They'd been through so much, but they were still able to laugh like that in the face of the end of the world. It was something you'd tried to pick up from them.
You were pulled out of your thoughts by the alarm going off, and your vision sharpened as you looked up at the machine and opened the door. You caught Eddie's shirt before it could come tumbling out, and you stared at the now-familiar Hellfire Club logo on its front. Just a month ago he had lent this to you, and now it was frayed at the hem, small gashes cut in the sleeves. You shook off the thought as you loaded everything into the dryer, turning the heat on high.
“Need any help?”
You turned to see Steve lingering in the doorway, fingers tapping against the wood of the frame.
“I think I've got it, but thank you,” you said, “Did you eat?”
“Yeah,” Steve said, “thanks for that. Paranormal investigation really, uh, works up an appetite, y'know?” He bit the inside of his lip, unsure whether or not to follow through with what he really wanted to ask you.
“What's up?” you asked, noticing his eyes still on you.
“I know this is kind of a stupid, relative question,” he said, “but are you okay?”
“Probably not the first word I'd choose,” you told him honestly. You watched the clothes in the dryer tumble in circles, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment before turning to Steve.
“I just thought it was over,” you said, your voice raw and tired.
“I know,” he sighed, “me too.”
“I feel like I'm giving myself whiplash,” you said, “There are moments where it's fine, then all of a sudden the tiniest little thing will remind me of something, and I just spiral.”
“(Y/n), you have to give yourself a break,” Steve said, “I know your first instinct is to make sure those kids are alright, because it's mine too, but you don't have to take on everything by yourself.”
You nodded stiffly, trying to ignore the lump in your throat.
“Come on,” Steve said, pulling you into his arms.
“Why does everyone feel the need to hug me today?” you grumbled, your words slightly muffled by his shirt.
“Because you were robotically doing laundry while staring into the void,” Steve said plainly.
“Point taken,” you said, “You're a good friend, Harrington.”
“Yeah, I'm kind of the best.”
“Don't ruin it.”
“Hope I'm not interrupting anything, but I kind of need those.”
At the sound of the new voice you and Steve jolted apart, turning to see Eddie standing in the hallway fresh out of the shower. His hair was still wet, small droplets dripping down his shoulders and chest. The only thing he was wearing was a towel wrapped around his waist and a bemused smirk on his face; There was a tinge of bitterness in the latter that flew over your head, but that was mostly because you were busy staring.
Eddie's eyes flickered between you and Steve, his gaze ultimately settling behind you on his clothes in the dryer. You forced yourself to snap out of it.
“Right,” you coughed out, flustered, “Um, here. They just finished drying.”
“Thanks,” he said. He stepped forward and reached around you to open the dryer door, and you felt your face burn as the distance between you dissipated in an instant. You could feel the warmth coming off his body, the scent of your own shampoo in his hair. You stood there frozen, unable to get another word out before he disappeared back into the bathroom to change, the door closing just a little too loudly.
“Subtle,” Steve snorted, “both of you.”
“Whatever you're talking about, Harrington, I suggest you stop it,” you warned.
“Come on, it's almost physically painful to watch you dance around each other,” he groaned, “You're worse than me.”
“Nothing's worse than you,” you scoffed, flicking him in the forehead.
“Hey, watch the hair,” he said, slapping your hand away.
“And we're not 'dancing around' anything,” you insisted, though your heart pounding against your ribcage betrayed you.
Steve leveled you with a look, and you both knew the words that had just come out of your mouth were a blatant lie.
“Whatever you say.”
Meanwhile Eddie was in the bathroom, trying to shake the water out of his hair and that ugly feeling out of his chest. As he began to get dressed he found his thoughts wandering back to you and Steve, and why the hell it seemed to bother him so much seeing you be such good friends.
Eddie didn't usually let things get to him; he'd been used to being met with ridicule and comparison his whole life, and he thought he'd done a pretty damn good job of not giving a shit. But for some reason Steve Harrington in particular had a special way of getting under his skin. He seemed like the antithesis of everything Eddie was; popular, athletic, and from a well-off white picket fence family. The fact that everyone seemed to collectively agree he was an asshole helped, but something noticeably shifted in him his junior year. He stopped hanging out with Tommy, Carol, and the basketball team, instead mostly spending time with you and Nancy; and the next year, Robin. When Eddie first met Dustin, he would always go on and on about how cool Steve was, and Eddie had to admit he was a little jealous of the way his new Hellfire recruit seemed to idolize him.
And now it was dawning on him just how close you and Steve were. It was completely understandable; you and Steve had been through hell and back, almost literally. Eddie always saw you two together even after Steve graduated, and the rumors that you were dating spread like wildfire at Hawkins High, though Eddie had never given them any thought until now.
He sighed deeply, slapping his face lightly with his hands to pull himself out of his thoughts. He looked around for his belt and his chain, and when they came up nowhere he realized you must have taken his things so they wouldn't get ruined in the wash. His heart softened, his irrational bout of jealousy quickly replaced by a tinge of guilt. You were a good person; it wasn't your fault you were so damn likable.
As he exited the bathroom he could hear a vaguely familiar Rolling Stones song playing upstairs, from what he could only guess was your room. He slowly walked up, stopping in front of your door which was cracked slightly. As he knocked it swung open a little further, and he saw you look up at him from your seat at your desk.
“Hey,” you said, your eyes widening as you realized you still had his stuff, “Oh, right.” You got up from your chair, crossing over to your bedside table where you'd made a small pile of belongings you found in his clothes; including a half pack of Marlboros, a lighter, a few stray guitar picks, and of course his belt and chain.
“Feeling any better?” you asked, handing them over. Eddie took them gratefully.
“Well the swamp water smell is gone,” he said, scratching lightly at the back of his neck, “And my clothes don't stick to me like a latex glove anymore, so that's a plus.”
“Glad to hear it,” you chuckled.
As Eddie used the mirror to adjust his chain, he caught sight of the rest of your room behind him. A string of Edison light bulbs lined your ceiling, casting a warm glow over the space. A few different scented candles were burning in the corner where you were reading. Countless books and VHS tapes lined the shelves by your bed, and your walls were covered in movie posters, vinyl sleeves, and pictures of you and your friends. The record player on your desk was still spinning that Stones song, and Eddie understood why you'd come here for a little peace of mind.
As his gaze swept across the floor, he noticed a box full of cassette tapes at his feet, and Eddie grinned at the sheer variety you owned. There was everything from Prince, Elton John, and The Beatles to Megadeth, Iron Maiden, and Metallica. As his eyes landed on a certain tape wedged in the side of the box, he grabbed it in disbelief.
“Hold on, is this mine?” Eddie turned to you with a look of mock scandal as he held up a copy of Dio's Sacred Heart between his fingers.
“No?” you said sheepishly.
“Lies.”
“I swear, I was going to return it,” you said.
“And more lies,” he tutted, turning the tape over in his hands, “but it is kind of the best album ever, so I understand your criminal behavior, though it isn't excused.”
“Didn't you say you shoplifted this from Family Video?”
“That's different,” he waved off, earning a small smirk from you as he leaned against your desk. It was only then that he saw what you were reading through before he came in. It was a worn red notebook, wide-lined and filled with scribbled guitar tabs.
“That was Billy's,” you said when you followed his gaze down to the book, your heart squeezing slightly in your chest.
“He played?” Eddie asked in surprise.
“Yeah,” you said, “He wrote his own songs too, even though he never had a band. Mostly metal, but he actually penned a few soft rock ballads for me. . . Don't ever tell anyone I told you that.”
“Cross my heart,” Eddie swore with a small grin. He thumbed through the worn out notebook, the binding almost immediately flipping open to a page in the middle. A polaroid picture doubled as a bookmark; It was a front facing shot of you and Billy sitting on the hood of his Camaro. You were beaming at the camera, squinting slightly against the sun as the wind whipped through your hair. Billy was looking at you with a small smile on his face, his expression surprisingly serene. Next to the photo were loosely connected tabs scrawled on stray pieces of paper, wedged in between the pages of lyrics, written and rewritten again and again in a web of songwriting process that Eddie was familiar with.
He never knew Billy Hargrove that well. How you had befriended the gruff playboy was a matter that confounded all of Hawkins High, but Eddie suspected it had something to do with the way you threatened Billy the first time he made a move on you, which led to him immediately giving you his number. Billy wasn't the most pragmatic student, always in some kind of fight and sending half the basketball team to the infirmary at least once. Although Eddie was okay with the latter offense, there was no denying Billy Hargrove spent a lot of his time being a grade-A asshole. Your messy breakup was proof enough of that. Hell, he'd almost run over Dustin and the kids with his car. But. . .
'Girl, you're the California breeze that sends me on my way.'
Looking down at the pages in front of him, he almost chuckled as he imagined Billy writing something like this.
“He was complicated,” you said, as if you'd read Eddie's mind, “not an excuse for how he acted sometimes, I know. But I think. . . in some other life, you would have gotten along really well.”
Eddie let out an amused little huff at that as his eyes lingered on the tabs for the solo. It was slow, intricate, and covered in detailed markings that showed off Billy's play style. Eddie could hear it clearly in his mind as his gaze drifted across the annotations. If he didn't know any better, he'd say he could almost feel Billy watching him read through it, a self-satisfied smirk on the west-coaster's face as he knew Eddie was impressed.
Some other life, huh?
A sad, nostalgic smile tugged at your lips as you re-read the familiar lyrics.
“He died a hero, and we can't even tell people that,” you said quietly.
“Billy knew about all this Upside Down stuff?” Eddie said in surprise. You nodded.
“Last year, his body was taken over by the Mind Flayer. That explosion at Starcourt Mall? That was us fighting it. In the end he was able to fight back against its control, and he sacrificed himself to save El's life. To save all of our lives.”
The crease in your brow deepened as that feeling of fatigue crept up on you once again.
“I thought that was the end,” you said, “But now I can't help but feel like he died for nothing, because it's not over. It's what had me so spaced out earlier when you found me in the bathroom, and-”
“No way,” Eddie said, making you look up. There was an intensity in his eyes you hadn't seen before; a sincerity that caught you off guard. “Not a chance he died for nothing. If he didn't do what he did last year, you wouldn't be alive to save the world again right now. If I've learned anything about myself in the last week, it's that outside of D&D, I'm no hero. What he did? That's some certified heroic shit right there. In my experience, if someone sacrifices his life for the rest of his party, he did it so that they could live theirs to the fullest potential. Jumping back into this shit head first, being as fearless as you are after everything you've seen. . . I think he'd be proud.”
You stared at him, your eyes immediately welling with tears, and Eddie's own widened in horror.
'Shit,' he thought, panicked, 'Definitely didn't want her to cry. What the fuck is wrong with me? What do I do? I can't just take it back. What if I make it worse? How-'
His train of thought was derailed completely as you suddenly threw your arms around him. Eddie stood there for a moment, frozen, before slowly wrapping his arms around you in return. Standing there with you in the warm light, your bodies seemingly fitting together perfectly, it just felt right.
“Thank you,” you whispered, and Eddie thought his heart would leap right out of his chest. He felt your tears start to soak into his denim vest, but he just held you tighter; the embrace was something he didn't realize he needed just as much as you. He put up a damn good front, but he was fucking terrified, and if he seriously thought about what was going on for more than a second, he was afraid his cowardice would make him run as far away from this as he could and pretend like none of it was happening. But you grounded him more than you could ever know.
You buried your face into his shoulder, breathing him in like your life depended on it. This was your third hug of the day, but the first that you had been the one to initiate. Dustin, Steve, Eddie— everyone in this house had become such a crucial part of your life. No matter how fucked up things got they were always going to be there, you had to remind yourself of that. You and Eddie stayed there for a moment in each other’s arms, and for the first time the entire week your mind quieted, and you felt truly at ease.
You and Eddie inevitably grow closer over the next few months after agreeing see one of his shows at the Hideout. Things seem to be looking up, until you hear the sound of police sirens racing past your house and make the mistake of turning on the news.
You cursed silently as you passed classroom after classroom, heading straight for the second floor hallway. Of course, the one time you agree to pick them up on a work night they forget.
As you approached the old theater room you could hear voices muffled through the door, becoming clearer as you walked up to it.
“. . . a dull booming in the distance. Echoing, roaring like thunder, and seemingly closer by the second.”
You stopped as you recognized Eddie's voice, purposefully deepened and exaggerated for the narration. Even though you were rushed and irritated, the sheer enthusiasm in his voice made you crack a smile. You quietly opened the door open to see all the members of the Hellfire Club gathered around a long table with Eddie at the head. Everyone was leaned in, listening so intently that no one even noticed you step inside the room.
“You realize too late that this is no natural disaster,” Eddie continued in an ominous tone, “they're footsteps. Something is coming, about to crash right through that door. The sound gets faster, louder, and you realize with horror there's nothing you can do to stop--”
BANG!
A collective shriek of terror followed by utter chaos erupted in the room as you slammed the door behind you. Mike bolted right out of his chair to snap his head in your direction, and you couldn't help the laugh that escaped you as his hair followed the movement two seconds later. Lucas' chest was heaving, his forehead pressed against his folder on the table. Eddie nearly jumped four feet in the air, now perched with his arms around his knees on his 'throne' which you recognized from the list of missing items from the drama department prop shop.
“Jesus Christ, (Y/n)!” Dustin wheezed, one hand grasping at his heart through his Hellfire shirt and the other braced against the table to just barely keep him upright in his seat.
“Serves you right,” you chuckled, “that's what you get when you're late.”
“Shit!” Lucas' eyes widened as he eyed the clock, scrambling to get his folder and figures into his backpack.
“Yep,” you said, “five minutes or I'm leaving your asses here, you're gonna make me miss my shift.”
“Woah, hey,” one of the members you didn't recognize objected, his initial shock now replaced with annoyance, “this session doesn't end until 9:00. That's the way it's always been.”
“Gareth, I really wouldn't push it,” Dustin whispered loudly as he packed his things.
As soon as you turned to Gareth, he seemed to wilt like a weed.
“Listen,” you started, your eyes narrowing, “they should have told you they had to bolt an hour early, because I told them days ago. Their parents are still at their jobs, I have to get to mine, and it looks to me like you weren't in the middle of combat, so pausing your game here should be no problem. Don't these stories span, like, months or something?”
“If they leave, we'll finish the session without them,” Gareth said, gathering the little courage he had left, though his wavering voice betrayed him.
“Ordinarily I'd agree with Gareth the Great,” Eddie said, a small tinge of his D&D voice present, “but if three members are being swept away, that leaves you with an incomplete party, and there's no chance of you advancing this quest without facing certain death, mutilation, or both. We wrap for tonight, gentlemen.”
The sighs of relief from Lucas and Dustin clashed with the groans of disapproval from the others as they were excused. Meanwhile, Mike was looking between you and Eddie and back again, wondering what sort of spell you put him under.
“Usually wouldn't have done that, but you caught me on a good day,” Eddie turned to you cheekily.
“Could've fooled me,” Mike muttered under his breath.
“This is clearly showing an intrinsic female bias,” another one of the older members hissed.
“Being ready to adapt to any situation is a part of pursuing adventure,” Eddie countered, “That's what you said, wasn't it? Or should we assume from now on the words of Frank the Fearless mean nothing? They clearly forgot to tell us about the change in schedule, and (Y/n) has to. . .”
He looked at you expectantly, gesturing for you to say something under the table.
“I've, uh, got a night shift at Valestro's-”
“There you go, see? Perfectly reasonable excuse,” Eddie said quickly as he vaulted himself over the table, “I can't let the kids walk home in the dark, and I'm definitely not driving them back in my van 'cause I've got enough rumors to worry about-”
“You just think she's hot,” Mike rolled his eyes.
“Alright, out,” Eddie said, hiding his flustered face as he pushed them through the door, “away, you little gremlins.”
“Let's go,” you said, grabbing your keys from your pocket and about to follow them until Eddie's voice called out after you.
“Hey, uh, wait!”
You turned around, exasperated and about to tell Eddie you didn't have time to talk, but the look on his face and the pleading glimmer in his eyes made you falter. Damn it. How the hell was he so cute? You cursed internally, looking down at your watch.
“You've got 45 seconds.”
He grinned in victory and your expression softened.
“You said you worked at Valestro's?” he asked, “That's the restaurant across the street from The Hideout, right?”
“Yeah, it is.”
“Well, The Hideout is where my band plays Tuesday nights, so you should come see us sometime. It'll add a nice touch to the crowd of sad dudes sitting alone drinking tequila.”
“I. . . actually get off early on Tuesdays, so I might just take you up on that,” you said.
“No shit?” Eddie beamed, “guess fate works out like that, huh?”
“Oh, now you're not in a rush,” Mike calls out to you sarcastically, his voice carrying from the other end of the hallway.
“Get in the damn car!” you seethed, making all three boys dash through the door and run off towards the parking lot.
“I gotta run,” you said, “but I'll see you next week?”
“Promise?” Eddie teased.
“On your alive grandmother's grave,” you smirked, recalling his earlier words and giving him a little salute wave before taking off down the hall. Eddie watched your retreating figure, waiting for you to fully round the corner before spinning on his heels and punching the air in victory. He made a silent vow to give you a show come Tuesday night.
The Hideout was definitely not what you expected. From the outside it just looked like any other shitty dive bar in Hawkins, but as soon as you stepped inside you felt like you were entering a whole other world.
Blue and purple neons illuminated the space, casting colorful shadows against the black brick walls. The huge mirrors set up on either side of the bar made it look like it went on forever, reflecting the lights in an infinite tunnel. You looked around in wonder, passing through groups of dancing patrons as you made your way to the other side. You realized there was a door leading to an outside venue with tables and chairs, along with a modest-sized stage that was connected to the interior. As you looked around, you realized that Eddie definitely undersold the audience when he invited you; there was actually a decent crowd already gathered outside.
There were a surprising amount of people around your age that you recognized from a few rival high schools and small colleges nearby. You couldn't really pin any one aesthetic to the group. Each person was dressed like they were going to drastically different parties but talked among themselves like they were all old friends. The mix of subcultures wasn't anything that would happen at Hawkins High, and it was honestly refreshing to see. Everyone was wearing what they felt their best in, whether that was a skintight black dress and six inch platforms, or a pastel sweater vest and Reebok sneakers.
You'd be lying if you said you didn't dress up a little for the show too. You wore your white Van Halen shirt to stay comfy, but you'd chosen the perfect shade of red lipstick to best compliment your skin tone; the same color as the patent leather skirt that hugged your hips perfectly. The chunky black boots you wore added a few inches to your height and a little boost to your confidence.
The band was met with a few cheers as they ran onstage from inside, and you grinned as you saw Eddie. He was wearing a black W.A.S.P shirt tucked into quite possibly the tightest pair of leather pants you'd ever seen. The denim jacket he wore had the Metallica logo on the back, with blue bolts of lightning painted up the sleeves.
You watched his eyes sweep over the crowd, and as they finally landed on you his expression lit up immediately. You shot him a smile back, waving as he slung his guitar over his shoulder. They introduced themselves as Corroded Coffin, and you chuckled. Despite a few of the members changing, the name was still the same as that fateful day at Hawkins Middle School.
As soon as they began to play, something in the room shifted. You could feel the pulse of the drums in your chest, the beat rising up through the floor beneath you. It was impossible not to get swept up in the energy of the crowd. The people that were excited to see them before were even more hyped up, and the people that had reluctantly been dragged out were fully invested now.
When Eddie started his solo, it was like he transformed in front of you. Watching him move with the music and interacting with the people standing in the front row; fingers flying across the fret board, skin glistening with sweat, ecstatic expressions only fed by the adrenaline of the crowd. You were watching him be truly in his element, and the only thought you had was how lucky you were to witness it. Eddie had always been someone that was true to himself, but seeing that be met with enthusiasm instead of ridicule made you inexplicably happy.
As he got to a particularly brutal tapping part he raised his guitar nearly level with his face, brows pinched in concentration and mouth hung loosely open. You watched in amazement as he played— every note crystal clear, not a single beat behind. His solo ended with a note that you were sure nearly snapped his whammy bar clean off, and the crowd went absolutely wild; you included, as you screamed and cheered as loudly as you could for him.
Eddie beamed at the crowd, ecstatic but also exhausted. As the rhythm guitarist continued to play the melody, Eddie took the few precious measures he had off to grasp at the bottle of water behind his amp, twisting the cap off and throwing it somewhere behind him before downing nearly all of it. Most of the water spilled out over his mouth, running down the column of his throat. He tossed the now empty bottle over his shoulder, untucking and lifting the bottom of his shirt up to wipe his face before jumping back into the song just in time for the final chorus.
Fuck.
That shouldn't have been as hot as it was. Now you knew about a few tattoos that you didn't before.
The band kept the energy up for the whole set, never letting the ball drop until their explosive finale. The members grinned at each other, high fives and congratulatory slaps on the back going all around as the crowd went crazy.
“You've been a great fucking audience tonight,” Eddie said into the mic, “thank you!”
And with that, he jumped off the stage and into the crowd. People were calling over to him, trying to get his attention, but his eyes were only on you as he made his way through the waves of people.
“So?” Eddie said, covering up his buzzing nerves as he finally reached you, “not too shabby, huh?”
“You were amazing!” you said breathlessly, “All of you were. And you completely lied to me about the crowd you get, by the way.”
“Well the college kids don't usually come out, but I guess tonight was our lucky night,” Eddie smiled bashfully, instinctively moving to fiddle with his hair. It had taken everything he had not to look right at you for the whole performance— a task he was mostly successful in, but damn it was hard. You looked incredible.
“Do you wanna come over for a drink?” he asked, surprising no one more than himself as the words came tumbling out before he knew what he was saying. “I know it's late,” he backtracked quickly, “and you probably have stuff to do-”
“Sure.”
Eddie froze in place.
He definitely hadn't been expecting that response; that much was obvious from the gigantic mess in his trailer that reared its ugly head when he opened the door. He turned over his shoulder, flashing you a shaky smile.
“Just a minute,” he said, quickly disappearing inside and closing the door behind him. You laughed to yourself as you heard frantic shuffling followed by a loud bang! and a muted 'fuck' from inside. You jumped as the door practically flew back open.
“Welcome to paradise,” Eddie said, slightly out of breath, “Just, uh, clearing the runway for you.”
“Such a gentleman,” you said with a playful curtsy.
“I know! Somebody had to acknowledge it,” he grinned.
You followed him through the trailer to his room, helping him carry in some of his equipment from the show. He gestured as an offer for you to take a seat before disappearing into the kitchen, and as you situated yourself on the edge of his bed you took the time to look around. It was a small space, but he'd definitely managed to make it his own. The walls were covered in overlapping metal posters, and you could see the evolution of his music taste as the older era Van Halen and Black Sabbath posters peeked out from underneath the ones of Dio, Merciful Fate, and Judas Priest. Bits and pieces of his personality were scattered around, from the open notebook scrawled across with tabs and lyrics on his desk, to the stack of faded horror comics in the closet. You found yourself smiling before you knew it.
Eddie swiftly broke your train of thought when he returned with two cans of beer and tossed one over to you. You caught it with one hand easily, cracking the tab and taking a generous sip.
“I've got whiskey around here somewhere, but I'll be a good samaritan and warn you that it tastes like farm tractor gasoline,” Eddie said with a sincerity that made you smile.
“Oh, wait a second!” he snapped his fingers, and you craned your neck from the bedroom to see him open the cabinet under the kitchen sink, producing an expensive looking bottle of tequila. “A little gift from my law-abiding uncle,” he said, grabbing two shot glasses from the shelf above.
“I couldn't,” you said. That bottle looked way nicer than anything you've ever had.
“Oh, but you could,” Eddie said, coming back to the room and holding out the now-filled shot to you, “Come on, as a thank you for coming out to see us tonight.”
“Are you trying to get me drunk, O chivalrous dungeon master?” you smirked.
“You caught me,” he said, “the dark lord demands another sacrifice, and they're usually more willing when they're sloshed.”
“Give me that,” you laughed, his smile mimicking yours as you took the glass from his hands.
And with a small toast, you both knocked the shot back. You exhaled, feeling the warmth travel down your throat. It was just as smooth as the gold label made it seem. As you moved to set the empty glass down, his gaze caught yours for a moment. You felt your cheeks warm, a fluttering feeling low in your stomach, and you couldn't be sure if it was the shot or the way he was looking at you.
You cleared your throat, hoping it would do the same to your head, and rose from your seat to set your beer on the shelf over his bed along with the shot glass. As you did, you noticed an unusually blank spot on the wall; your curiosity was quickly satiated as Eddie took his beloved guitar out of its protective case from the show and promptly hung it back up among his posters and band fliers.
“It's beautiful,” you said.
It really was; the unique angular cut and red crackle pattern across the sleek black finish felt so quintessentially Eddie. True, you had noticed the instrument during the show, but to be frank you were much more focused on the player.
“Thank you kindly,” he said with a little southern accent, tipping an imaginary hat.
“Mind if I try it?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
As soon as the words left his lips, Eddie gave himself whiplash when he realized how quickly he'd responded. Why the fuck did he just agree to that? He couldn't have been that drunk yet. He'd hardly let anyone even touch his guitar before. He was about to take it back until he saw you, the strap already around your shoulder and your fingers running gently along the frets.
And just like that, he melted.
You stared down at the guitar in your hands, clearly well-worn and well-loved. The wood of the first five or so frets were faded from use, small nicks and scratches littering the body. Slowly, you began to finger pick a simple tune. Since it wasn't plugged into anything the notes were tinny and quiet, but Eddie stared at you in wonder all the same.
“You play?” he coughed out, taking another swig of his beer to both settle his nerves and keep himself from rambling.
“A little,” you smiled up at him, “My mom taught me.”
“No kidding?”
“I definitely owe my taste in music to her,” you said, carefully placing the guitar back on its wall mount, “She has this huge record collection I used to play through all the time.”
“Well, I doubt I have as many as your mom,” Eddie said, reaching under his bed, “but I've got a pretty decent collection myself.” He produced a large black storage box and flipped the lid up proudly, revealing vinyl sleeves packed up to the brim.
“You're a Bowie fan, right?” Eddie said, fishing out his Aladdin Sane record and turning it over in his hands, “Y'know he's in a movie coming out in a few weeks, it's called Labyrinth. Not really sure what it's about, but it looks cool as hell.”
“Yeah, I heard about that,” you said, “I think he's playing some kind of goblin king?”
“Of course he is,” Eddie chuckled.
“We should go see it.”
“Huh?” Eddie blinked, looking over at you.
“The movie,” you laughed as he turned red, “together.”
“Oh,” he said dumbly, “yeah, sure! That'd be, uh-”
“Fuck!” you cursed. Okay, maybe the tequila caught up with you faster than you thought it would. As you reached up for your beer you ended up misjudging the distance, knocking it over onto you before you could properly grab the can. You staggered back, trying to wipe what you could off your shirt, but to no avail. The material was thoroughly soaked with shitty alcohol, the smell and the way it made your shirt cling to your arms and chest making you cringe. Not only were you doused, but the rest of the can had spilled onto the carpet.
“Shit, I'm so sorry,” you said, grabbing the can and tossing it in the trash, running into the kitchen to grab some paper towels.
“No harm done,” Eddie said, getting up from his seat, “records are intact, and this isn't the worst thing to happen to this floor, trust-”
He stopped in his tracks as you returned from the kitchen with the towels, starting to sop up the beer from the carpet. Your white shirt had become pretty much transparent from how wet it was, hugging every curve of your body like a second skin, and your red lace bra showing very clearly through the fabric. The buzz starting to kick in definitely made his reaction time slow in tearing his eyes off you, grateful you were just as inebriated so you didn't see him staring at you like a creep. He turned his back to you, taking as deep of a breath as he could while being inconspicuous.
'Jesus Christ, get a hold of yourself man!' Eddie mentally kicked himself.
He was better than this.
He turned back around to you, only to find you now on your knees as you tended to the spill, your skirt riding up your thighs.
No he wasn't.
“Um. . . I, uh,” Eddie spluttered, gently taking the paper towels from your hands, “I'll get this, don't worry.” He rose, looking around his room and grabbing the nearest shirt in his closet, “Here, that can't be comfortable,” he said, handing it to you, “You can borrow this for now, bathroom's around the corner.”
You stared up at him from the floor, eyes wide, and he swore he nearly lost his shit right then and there. Moving before he could do or say anything stupid, he helped you to your feet and into the bathroom. Eddie whipped around as soon as the door closed, first taking some deep breaths to calm himself down but eventually resorting to frantically pacing while mouthing 'what?!' over and over when that ultimately failed.
When you eventually exited the bathroom he quickly moved to sit down on the couch, acting as natural as he could. It was at that moment Eddie realized he'd made two severe miscalculations.
One, the shirt he'd handed you was his Hellfire t-shirt. And two, the bra you were wearing was soaked through, so you'd taken it off.
“Are you okay?” you asked.
“. . . I need a cigarette,” he said, more to himself than you.
“We can move outside if you want,” you said, “some fresh air might be good.”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice strained as much as his pants. God, he felt like such a loser.
You were right, the fresh air was nice, but it did nothing to clear his mind.
He tried not to stare at the way your plush lips wrapped around the cigarette as he lit it for you, but his head was spinning, and not just from the alcohol.
As he moved to light his own, a dull spark emitted from his lighter as he flicked it, then fizzled out. He tried again, but no flame came up.
“Damn,” Eddie cursed at the lighter, “Really? You're gonna bail on me now?”
“Empty?” you asked.
“Yeah,” he sighed, “I'll be back, I've got another one somewhere-”
“Wait,” you slurred, tugging on the sleeve of his jacket as he was about to get up, “Here.”
He stared at you in confusion and you chuckled slightly, placing the dart between his lips. Eddie's hair stood on end as you leaned in, your eyes never leaving his as you just barely pressed the lit end of your cigarette to his. Eddie managed to force some air into his lungs, his pulse racing in his ears as he sucked in, the embers from yours lighting his. He stayed there frozen as you grinned, exhaling the smoke as you pulled back from his face.
You were going to kill him.
He couldn't get you out of his head. You'd ended up talking for hours about everything and nothing, and he found his tongue to be unexpectedly loose with you, even as as he sobered up to drive you home. You were too easy to talk to, and hilarious, and witty; he couldn't remember the last time he laughed this much with anybody. As he lied awake, staring at the ceiling of his trailer that night, his thoughts were only ones of you. In only a handful of interactions you'd completely captivated him.
Little did he know, you were thinking about him just as much. Spending time with him felt easy; your conversations always flowed so naturally, and he never seemed to drain your social battery even during your off days. Without even noticing, you felt more like yourself when you were around him; he made you bold, your actions when you were tipsy in his trailer making that obvious, even if they made you embarrassed now.
“He's nice,” Chrissy said, snapping you out of your trance.
“What?” you said lamely, “who?”
“Eddie. I noticed you've been hanging out a lot recently,” Chrissy said with a small smile, “Sorry, you were starring.”
“I was not,” you huffed, averting your gaze back to your sandwich. The basketball team had practice during lunch today, so you and Chrissy were able to sit together at one of the back tables without having to deal with Jason, who she was still inexplicably with. You could see Eddie sitting at his usual Hellfire Club table from where you were, passionately talking through his latest campaign ideas with Mike as he used his hands to gesture wildly for emphasis.
“He is nice, though,” you grinned.
“Yeah, we talked for the first time today, actually.”
“So that's why I didn't see you during free period earlier,” you chuckled, “where were you guys?”
“The woods?” you laughed, “What, were you buying off him or something?”
When you were met with silence on Chrissy's end, your eyes widened.
“Wait, really?”
“It's nothing,” she said quickly, “It was just weed, and I ended up not buying it anyways, and. . .”
She trailed off, her gaze planted firmly in her lap. You could tell something was wrong. Chrissy didn't have anything against drugs, but you knew she avoided both smoking and drinking because of the habits that ran in her family. You never thought she would turn to any kind of substance because she was stressed, even if it was just weed; she told you she never wanted to rely on something like that.
You carefully took her hand in yours and squeezed gently, a silent system you both came up with when you were younger to ask if the other was okay. Chrissy's breath shuddered in her chest, her eyes turning glassy as she slowly shook her head 'no.'
“You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to,” you said softly, “Just say the word and I'll change the subject, but if you want to talk about it, you know I'll listen.”
Chrissy shut her eyes, gathering herself in a few deep breaths, and you waited patiently for her response.
“My dad went out of town for work again,” she said quietly, “so it's just me and mom at home.”
You let the weight of that sink in before turning to face her.
“You know you're always welcome to stay over at my place,” you told her, “I mean that. For as long as you have to. If you need anything, just call the house.”
“Thank you,” she said, managing a smile, “But I'll be okay.”
And that was the beginning of the end.
That night, you planned to finally go see Labyrinth with Eddie like you'd talked about, and you were anxiously looking forward to it. He said that he would meet you at the theater after Hellfire Club was over around 9:30, but he never showed up. At first you were hurt, thinking that he had ditched you on purpose, but you figured something important probably came up; you'd ask him about it the next morning. You never got the chance. You heard the police sirens fly past your house, and it didn't take long for the news to spread to every ear in Hawkins:
Chrissy Cunningham had been murdered.
You had gone about the next three days as usual— waking up, taking a shower, and heading downstairs. You'd watch TV for a while, read, listen to music, and go to sleep; numbly going through the motions of your life. With your parents away on their business trip, it was just you and your empty house. The phone rang a couple of times, but you never answered. It came to a point where you became unsure of how much time had actually passed; the minutes, days, and hours blurring together. You just felt nothing.
You directed your unfocused gaze into your bowl of cereal, your first meal of the day despite it being 11:00 at night. As you brought a spoonful up to your mouth, you suddenly found it difficult to breathe. You stared at the box, a distant memory slipping through the shallow cracks of your mind against your will.
One of the first times Chrissy came over to your house you were in the third grade, and you remembered her staring in wonder at the food that you had in the house— chocolate bars, pizza bagels, sugar coated cereals— all things she admitted to never having tried before because her mom didn't let her. You still remembered the twinkle in her eyes when she tried Fruit Loops for the first time, and how you'd always sneak some to school in a plastic bag to give to her at recess.
As you swallowed your bite your vision blurred, eyes stinging, and it was then that you realized you were crying. You dropped your spoon back into your bowl as a sob racked your chest, and you finally allowed the first grieving tears to spill from your eyes after days of keeping yourself together.
You had stayed there at the table, despair clawing at your stomach until something else replaced it. Rage, flickering like a flame in your belly and growing by the second. You wanted revenge. You wanted justice. You wanted to hurt whoever did this to her.
And then the news came out that she had been found in Eddie Munson's trailer, the #1 suspect for her murder, and the world came crashing down around you. Which brought you here, sitting on your couch in front of the TV in utter disbelief as the chief of police held up Eddie's picture.
“The suspect we're currently in pursuit of is Eddie Munson. All Hawkins residents are advised to stay inside their homes past dark. If anyone has any information on the whereabouts of the suspect, contact the police immediately. This is an extremely dangerous individual and should not be approached alone-”
The sudden, loud knock at your door almost sent your soul into the stratosphere.
“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, gripping at your hair in an attempt to calm down. You still hadn't processed everything that happened, let alone the news you just received.
“Just a second,” you called out, or at least you thought you had. Your words sounded like they were far away, barely coming out as a whisper. When the second knock came you jolted at the sound, swallowing hard.
“I said just a second!” you shouted. You turned the TV off, getting up from the couch and forcing a shallow breath into your lungs as you opened the door.
Your eyes widened as you saw who waited on the other side.
“Please don't freak out,” Steve said. Nancy, Robin and Max stood off to the side. Next to them were Lucas and Dustin, who kept glancing over their shoulders nervously.
“What the hell are you all doing here?” you asked, your head swimming.
The group turned to look at one another, a silent agreement made as they slowly moved apart to reveal a very disheveled, very nervous Eddie Munson standing behind them. He offered a small wave.
Your blood froze.
“No wait, (Y/n), please!” Steve wedged his hand in between the door as you immediately tried to close it.
“These fingers will come off, Harrington,” you hissed, feeling tears burn behind your eyes.
“Wait, wait, wait-”
Steve groaned in pain as you stomped hard on his foot, shoving his hands out of the door before slamming it shut in his face.
“(Y/n)!” Steve said desperately, pressing his forehead against the door as you locked it, “Please, just listen to us, we need your help.”
“Go away,” you pleaded, your voice hoarse, “just get the fuck away from me.”
“(Y/n), Eddie is innocent,” you heard Dustin say, “We know that he is. The thing that killed Chrissy. . . it was from the Upside Down.”
The quiet that followed was suffocating; it seemed as though even the crickets and cicadas had stilled in the wake of it. Steve sighed, lightly punching the door in defeat. Then the sound of a lock and chain being undone split the silence like the crack of a gun, making everyone startle slightly. Steve stepped away from the door just as you opened it.
“Get your asses in here,” you said wearily, “Now.”
After discovering a portal to another dimension, infiltrating an underground secret Russian facility, and fighting literal monsters to save the world not once but twice, you'd think the bulk of your problems would be behind you. Enter: Eddie Munson. You thought you were done with long haired, leather jacket wearing men after dating Billy Hargrove, but Eddie seemed different. He was sweet, he was creative, he was honestly kind of a dork, and now he's convicted of murder. Needless to say, harboring a fugitive isn't exactly how you pictured your spring break going.
“The suspect we're currently in pursuit of is Eddie Munson. All Hawkins residents are advised to. . .”
No.
No, no, no.
The world seemed to close in around you; you felt your stare at the TV screen shift in and out of focus, the sound of your blood roaring in your ears drowning out anything else the deputy had to say. You refused to believe that Eddie could do something like this. Eddie, who drove you home when your 'friends' ditched you at a party. Eddie, who lent you his cassette collection and beamed like the sun when he found out you liked the same music. Eddie, who insisted on slowly leading a spider out of his trailer instead of crushing it despite being absolutely terrified. He couldn't have killed Chrissy.
But the officer was there on the screen, holding up a cropped yearbook photo of him in his Hellfire Club t-shirt.
And they said the body was nearly unidentifiable.
After Starcourt you tried your damnedest to return to normalcy, and for a time you thought you had. There were some days that almost felt like your life before you knew what really lied beneath Hawkins' skin. Then there were days like this, where it felt like the weight of the world was returned to your shoulders, a crushing sense of doom pressing down on your chest. You thought this year would be peaceful. Relatively, at least. But so much had changed in so little time. . .
~Six months ago~
The school cafeteria at Hawkins High was less like the shitty buffet it was meant to be, and more like a gladiator arena. Students flocked together in protective groups, quickly sweeping the grounds and claiming their territory, but never daring to get close to the center table. No, that was reserved for the court— the cheerleaders and the basketball team. You affiliated yourself with neither, so how was it that you came to be sitting there? Simple: Chrissy Cunningham.
The two of you had known each other since kindergarten, practically growing up at each others houses. Although you drifted apart as you got older, especially as she started dating Jason and you became friends with Steve's group, you could tell that she'd been having a hard time lately. With what, you wouldn't push to know, but you could tell she was grateful to have someone by her side that she could trust, and you were happy to be that someone after you saw how the rest of the cheer team treated her.
And so, for the last week or so you'd taken up residence at the center table to make sure she wasn't getting shit from anyone. You'd expected to get at least some kind of backlash from the cheer team, but they hardly paid you any attention. That was one of the perks of being a social drifter— you weren't part of the popular group, but you weren't targeted by them either.
The basketball players, however, were a different beast.
You groaned as you spotted Jason Carver making his way down the hallway with the majority of the varsity team. People parted like the red sea for him while he smiled and waved to the other students like he was the goddamn mayor.
His eyes lit up as he spotted Chrissy, striding over and practically pushing you out of your seat as he wedged himself between you to kiss her.
“How are you, baby?”
“I'm-”
“Great! Party at my place this Saturday,” he cut her off, that smile still plastered on his face as he handed her a neon orange flier, “It's to celebrate our win earlier this week, wear something pretty for me.”
“Oh, right,” Chrissy said, managing a nervous smile.
You, on the other hand, felt like slapping him. Chrissy didn't like parties because of how anxious they made her, something she's told him multiple times. If Jason noticed her uncomfortably fidgeting with the cuffs of her jacket, he showed no sign of being concerned about it. He just gave her another unnecessarily intimate kiss for a school lunch room before walking off to grab his food. You glared at the back of his head until he reached the end of the line, turning to Chrissy.
“Remind me why you're dating that asshole again?” you said quietly. Jason never necessarily did anything bad to you; he was always just sort of in the background when you hung out with Chrissy, but you couldn't stand the way he treated people.
“Y/n,” Chrissy sighed, “I know how he can get sometimes, but Jason’s your friend too.”
“No, you’re my friend and he’s your boyfriend, so I’m legally obligated to tolerate him,” you supplied, “not the same thing. Sitting at this table doesn't make me his friend. I'm here for you, Chris.”
“I know,” she said sheepishly, “thank you. . . I'm sure you'd rather be somewhere else.”
“What, and let you suffer here alone?” you grinned, “not a chance.”
Right on queue Jason came back with his food tray, shouldering passing students out of the way as he did. Just as he was about to sit down, what looked like a blur of black few past him, knocking him off balance and sending a few items on his tray toppling over. As the blur slowed to a stop and turned around, you were met with a student that was both familiar and unfamiliar.
His hair was the first thing you noticed, dark brown tresses teased to the gods and falling in loose waves around his face. A chain hung off his belt, clanking against the studs whenever he moved. He wore a ripped denim jacket with a multitude of pins and patches of bands you recognized, and a shit-eating grin on his face.
You felt like you knew him from somewhere.
“Sorry, man,” he said to Jason, his expression telling you that while he really hadn't meant to do it, he certainly wasn't sorry about it.
“Watch where you're fuckin' going, freak,” Jason snarled. He slammed his tray down, making Chrissy jump as he got in his face. The other man didn't back down, his grin only spreading as Jason turned red from the neck up.
“You stay the fuck away from here, you got it, Munson?” Jason glared.
Munson. That's where you knew him. You recognized him from the Hellfire Club yearbook picture Dustin carried around in his folder. This must be Eddie, the guy the kids basically idolized. Even though Jason was threatening him, Eddie looked thoroughly unbothered. The look in his eyes almost dared Jason to hit him; you could tell they've done this same song and dance before.
“Last I checked, everyone's allowed to eat food in the place the school makes us eat food in,” Eddie said, gesturing around to the room with his arms as he turned to leave. Jason lunged forward, grabbing him by the collar of his jacket.
“That's it-”
“Carver, would you take the one-sided dick measuring contest somewhere else, please?”
The whole table seemed to freeze at your words, their focus moving to you.
“What?” Jason said, his jaw taught and his grip still tight on Eddie's jacket.
“Give it a fucking rest,” you reiterated, “you're starting shit just to start it, and I'm trying to eat in peace for once.”
“He needs to learn some fucking respect-”
“It's a pudding cup, Carver. Pretty sure you'll make it through this.”
Eddie couldn't help but chuckle. Even a couple boys from the basketball team snickered at your words, though they were shut up quickly by Jason's stare snapping to them. Jason let out a harsh breath as he loosened his grip on Eddie, his cross-hairs slowly shifting to you.
Now it was the whole cafeteria whose eyes were on you two. You stared back at Jason, unyielding. Although you were the one sitting down, there was no question that you were playing on even ground. Unlike Jason, you had friends in nearly every clique at Hawkins High, so while most of the cheerleaders and basketball players were firmly on Jason's side, you knew there were plenty of others waiting for him to be put in his place.
“Maybe you should mind your damn business, (L/n),” he said, fighting to keep his voice even.
“I will when you stop treating everyone around you like shit,” you fired back, ice in your tone, “that includes your girlfriend.”
A chorus of rising murmurs spread through the space— some shocked, others anticipatory.
This sure was an arena, and the audience couldn't wait to see who slaughtered who.
Suddenly the shrill sound of the bell rang out through the cafeteria, and you almost laughed at the timing. The other students began to disperse, scattering off to their other classes. Eventually Jason was pulled away by another one of the basketball guys, and you packed up your things for your next class. Eddie saw the glimmer of victory in your eyes as you did.
He'd noticed you right away, standing out like a sore thumb in your David Bowie t-shirt and denim jacket among the sea of green and gold varsity uniforms. You confused him, but not in a bad way. You'd always stayed out of the way whenever Jason went on one of his stunts, what made you say something this time? It couldn't have been because of him, Eddie was 100% sure you didn't know he existed before today.
His pulse leaped into his throat as you turned around to meet his gaze, that gleam in your eyes not having left. You gave him a small smile before slinging your bag over your shoulder and disappearing into the wave of exiting students.
You sighed as you strode quickly down the hallway before school started next day. Although your eyes were trained on the open book in front of you, you could practically feel the eyes boring into you from all angles; and although your headphones drowned out the noise, you could tell they were whispering about you. Your stunt in the cafeteria had people talking, and honestly you found it stupid that they were making it such a big deal in the first place. Jason's never had anyone talk back to him, and for what? The fear of a little social backlash? To be fair, Freshman year you would have done anything to avoid getting on the popular crowd's bad side, but after surviving the horrors of the Upside Down, you knew at the very least you could handle Jason Carver's entitled-white-boy wrath. Near death experiences had a way of giving you a little perspective.
With a good twenty minutes before your first class started, you decided to take the time for yourself away from the prying eyes and shit-talking mouths for a little while. You stopped underneath one of the trees by the edge of the schoolyard, leaning against the trunk and relishing the shade for a moment. You slipped your backpack off and set it on the ground, about to sit down when you suddenly felt a tap on your shoulder. You jolted, looking to your side only to find no one there. You whipped your head around, but there was no one behind you either. That's when you saw a hand clad in silver rings come from above you and tap you on the shoulder again.
You let out a small yelp and staggered back, the movement making your headphones slide down to your shoulders. Heat rose to your cheeks as your music played outloud, and you quickly paused your walkman. A chuckle reached your ears, and you looked up to see Eddie lounging comfortably between two branches in the tree above you, his legs swinging freely beneath him.
“You trying to kill me, Munson?” you huffed, your heart pounding.
“Sorry about that, princess,” he said, that impish smile ever present on his face, “didn't mean to scare my savior, especially now that I know she listens to Ozzy. That's Secret Loser off his new album, right? Definitely didn't take you for the type.”
“Well what did you take me for?” you said, your arms crossing defensively despite the grin that tugged at your lips.
Eddie tilted his head, pretending to think about it.
“Hmm. . . somewhere at the intersection of preppy and weird art kid, so Kate Bush I guess?”
“Well I like her music too,” you said, “Shockingly, human beings can be multifaceted.”
“Well don't blame me for being surprised when most of the people here have about as much depth as a blow up pool,” Eddie jabbed.
“You include yourself in that?” you quirked a brow.
“Duh, look how I'm dressed.”
He was joking, but he wasn't totally wrong. He was wearing his Hellfire club t-shirt, the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms and exposing the tattoos you didn't realize he had. His hands were covered in thick silver rings, matching the chains hanging from his belt and his wrists. His black jeans were torn at the knees, and hanging off the branch next to where he sat was his denim vest and leather jacket with a picture of Dio's latest album cover printed across the back. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, or the fact that he genuinely didn't seem to care what other people thought of him, but you'd never realized how attractive he actually was.
“Could have just taken a picture for you,” Eddie said, snapping you out of your train of thought. You flushed as you realized how long you must have been blatantly staring at him. “Didn't know you were gonna size me up.”
“Just doing what you asked me to,” you said, sounding a lot more confident than you felt; a tactic that worked, if the blooming color in his cheeks was anything to go by.
“Every person has layers,” you finished your point, trying to get your heart rate under control.
“Not Jason Carver.”
“I said every person.”
Eddie laughed at that, the sound so warm and resonant you could almost feel it in your own chest. So much for your heart rate.
“Speaking of, never got to thank you for yesterday,” he said.
“Well, it was more about my not liking Carver than my concern and care for you, but I'll let you believe that,” you said playfully.
“Cold,” Eddie chuckled, swinging his legs over the branch and dropping to the ground, “Still, it takes guts standing up to the new king of Hawkins High,”
“With Jason it's more of a dictatorship, but thanks.”
“Well said,” he grinned, “starting an uprising against the dickish forces of the basketball team. Never would’ve seen it coming from (Y/n) (L/n), right hand of Steve Harrington.”
“First of all, never call me Steve's right hand again,” you scoffed.
Eddie was unable to hold back the string of surprised laughter that escaped his lips, not expecting the innuendo from you.
“And second, I only started hanging out with him after he stopped being an ass,” you finished.
“Right, got it,” Eddie said, tapping the side of his head, “. . . was I absent that day?”
You shot him a sharp look and he smiled, raising his hands in mock surrender.
“He's sweet,” you defended your friend.
“In all my time at this school I've never heard the words 'Steve Harrington' and 'sweet' in the same sentence,” he said, “and I've been here for-”
“Ten years, I know.”
“Ha, ha,” Eddie deadpanned.
You laughed, your smile seemingly lighting you up from the inside, and Eddie found himself smiling along with you. He surprised himself with how natural your back and forth felt to him. You were usually hanging around Steve and Nancy or Billy, and more recently Robin— people whose social circles didn't really overlap with his own unless they were really trashed at a party. Of course he knew who you were, it was impossible not to know everyone in a small school like this, but this was the first time you'd ever had a real conversation; one that Eddie was enjoying more than he'd like to admit.
“Y'know, that's not the first time you've stood up for me,” he said after a short while.
“It's not?” you asked, raising a brow.
Eddie drew in a long breath, crossing his arms and shaking his head in mock disappointment.
“Ouch,” he smirked, “Think back, (L/n). Dive into that memory palace. Back to about 6th grade, middle school talent show. You sang a Journey song, and I. . .”
“Played guitar, holy shit!” you laughed, the moment now vividly pictured in your head.
Eddie beamed, his index finger ringing an imaginary bell above his head and his smile impossibly infectious.
“Ding ding ding! Well, you seem to remember my performance on a generally positive note, so I'll overlook you forgetting.”
“Can you blame me? You were bald back then.”
“Buzzed, thank you very much.”
“Bald in comparison,” you snorted, reaching up to push a few of the unruly strands out of his face. He swatted your hand away playfully, trying to ignore the way his stomach flipped at the feeling of your fingers running through his hair.
“But you do remember?” he covered quickly, “Jimmy Hathaway made fun of me after the show-”
“And I tripped him into the wet pavement outside,” you finished, heat rising to your face again as you recalled your temper as a child, even shorter than it was now.
“Exactly. You know, I bet the imprint from his fall is still on that sidewalk to this day,” Eddie mused, “a great tribute to your heroic deed.”
“Jimmy's parents sure didn't see it that way,” you said with that sly glimmer back in your eyes that made Eddie unable to look away, “something about me being in correspondence with the devil.”
“There any truth to that?”
“I don't know, haven't seen him in a while.”
Eddie laughed breathlessly, staring at you with something akin to amazement in his eyes and wondering why he hadn't ambushed you from a tree sooner.
“Too far?” you coughed out awkwardly.
“You kidding?” Eddie blinked as he came back to reality, “You're talking to the school freak here. To the general student body, no one's more 'in correspondence with the devil' than me.”
“What, because you're the grand warlock of your club or something?”
“Dungeon Master, actually,” Eddie corrected with a flourish.
“Kinky.”
You grinned as Eddie's face flushed immediately.
“That's not what it-”
“I know,” you chuckled, “I just wanted to mess with you.”
Eddie huffed indignantly, but did little to fight the upward quirk of his lips.
“So you actually know about D&D?”
“I practically babysat the boys when we were younger,” you told him, “I was there when they were still designing their characters and figuring out what campaign even was. Besides, who do you think picks them up from Hellfire? I'm not gonna trust any of those twerps with a car.”
“You're something else, (L/n),” he said.
“So you thought I'd be boring?” you joked.
“Nah, just thought you'd be meaner,” Eddie admitted with a smile, “especially after watching you rip Carver a new one.”
“Mean in a pretentious kind of way?”
“Mean in a pretty, popular girl kind of way.”
“I'm not that popular,” you said, avoiding the fact that he basically just called you pretty like the plague for your own sake, “I've only been sitting with those jerks because I'm friends with Chrissy.”
“Yeah, but people actually like you,” he said, meandering around the trunk of the tree, “That's gotta score you more points than sitting at some stupid table. You're at the top of the leaderboard compared to me.”
“You don't seem to care about it that much,” you said.
“Neither do you,” he pointed out.
“Fair enough.”
You turned to look him in the eyes and Eddie could have sworn his heart stopped for a second. It's not like he's never noticed how beautiful you were— it was blatantly obvious to anyone that saw you— but he considered you so far out of his league that he never even entertained the thought for more than a second. Honestly, he was shocked that you even gave him the time of day. You, who were friends with people like Steve Harrington, Nancy Wheeler, and Chrissy Cunningham. Not people like the freak of Hawkins High who blasted Metallica from his beat-up van and ran a D&D club.
Your eyes were what kept him held fast. They almost seemed to glow; full of life and intelligence and mischief. He wondered how in the hell you were able to be so bright after last year. He'd heard you'd been inside Starcourt Mall when the explosions went off, and he knew although you and Billy Hargrove had a falling out the semester before he died, you cared for him in some way. But somehow that light inside you still seemed intact, always ready with a quick comeback or a witty joke, and he had no idea how you did it.
Eddie realized that the whole time his brain had been scrambling, you'd still just been looking at him. When he came back down to earth you seemed to notice, a small chuckle rising in your chest. Your gaze held his so gently, and there was something about the contact that made him feel oddly at ease. As he racked his brain for what it was, he realized that you didn't look at him like everyone else did: like you were trying to figure him out. You were just taking him as he was.
You shifted your weight slightly, your teeth catching your bottom lip out of nervous habit, a movement Eddie used every ounce of his willpower not to look down at. Then, just as you opened your mouth to say something, the morning bell rang, the sound considerably less welcome than it was yesterday in the cafeteria.
You wanted to slam your head into the trunk of the tree. Of course.
“Well this was-”
“I should probably-”
You both laughed softly as your words overlapped.
“I'll, uh. . . see you around,” Eddie said, grabbing his jacket from the tree.
You smiled, slinging your bag over your shoulder and picking up your abandoned book.
“Is that a promise?” you teased.
“Swear it on my grandmother's grave,” Eddie said, raising his left hand with his right over his heart, “She's still alive, but you get the point. Planning ahead.”
You laughed for what felt like the hundredth time that morning, a sound Eddie was determined to be the cause of again.
.:Time And Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 8
You come across an old photo book full of untouched memories and decide to go through it with Harry, though there are some things you decide he doesn't need to know and some things you'd rather forget. (Takes place mostly through Marauders era flashbacks)
LINKS: CH 1 CH 2 CH 3 CH 4 CH 5 CH 6 CH 7 CH 8
Ch 8 .:Snapshots, Secrets, and Sentimentality:.
“Hey, Harry?” you called out into the living room where said boy was reclined on one of the large charcoal armchairs, “I found something you might want to see.”
His eyes widened behind the round frames of his glasses as you carried over a large, leather bound book that was thick with laminated pages. You sat across from him on the couch, setting it down on the coffee table in front of you.
“We still have a few more hours before the others arrive for the meeting,” you said, “and I don't know when the next time we'll be able to talk like this will be.”
“Wait,” he said before you could open the book, “you aren't staying?”
“I can't,” you smiled at him sadly. A statement that was true for a multitude of reasons you'd rather not get into with your godson. “I wanted to show this to you before I left, though.”
With a wave of your hand the book's pages gently flipped open, revealing a number of old magical photographs. The page you had turned to had a picture of James, and you could see Harry's eyes lock onto it. His father was beaming at the camera, holding up the Quidditch cup as two of his Gryffindor teammates held him up on their shoulders.
“Now you see why everyone always tells you how much you look like him,” you chuckled, “that's him in his fifth year, same as you now.”
Harry stared in wonder at the photo. He really did look like his dad. James was slightly taller, lankier, but he had the same disheveled waves of dark brown hair and boyish grin as Harry. Their faces were nearly identical; except for the eyes, of course.
The photo right next to that one was you wearing a Seeker's crest. You were posed, standing with the rest of your team with a wide smile on your face. Harry's brow furrowed as he spotted an unknown yet somehow familiar boy next to you with curly black hair and light eyes.
“Who is that?” he asked, “he almost looks like—”
“Sirius?” you finished. Harry nodded. “That would make sense,” you said, “that's Regulus, his younger brother.”
“I. . . didn't know he had one,” Harry said in wonder.
“Well, you know he doesn't talk about his family often.”
“Right. . .” Harry trailed off for a moment, “but you knew him? His brother?”
“Yeah,” you said, feeling a tug at your heart, “We were friends, for a while.” Your eyes subconsciously looked up towards his room which now stood empty. “He, um. . . he died, some time ago.”
“Oh,” Harry said, not knowing what to say, “I'm sorry. . .”
You gave him a small smile in thanks, trying to shrug off the grim feeling the memories brought up as you turned the page of the book to the next.
This photograph was one that was moving— you and James in your Quidditch captain's uniforms. He was reaching over, ruffling your hair while you were ducking to avoid him, pushing his face away and turning his glasses askew despite the grin on your face.
“We both became team captains in year six,” you said, smiling fondly at the picture, “we'd squared off as Seekers the year prior, so it was only natural. You were already playing Seeker your first year, weren't you?”
“Yeah,” Harry said bashfully, “although my first time catching the snitch was bit rough to say the least.” You laughed at that, recalling the time he told you the story of how he had caught the snitch with his mouth his first match.
“You take after your father, for sure,” you said, “he was always a creative flier; came up with all sorts of purposefully confusing strategies as captain. By the time the other team figured out what he was doing, he'd have already caught the snitch and the match would be set.”
Harry felt pride fill his chest at your words, glad he was taking on his father's good qualities.
“So you were a Seeker your fifth year and played until you graduated,” he recalled, “but I thought you said you played Chaser before?”
“Well, sort of?” you admitted, “Not officially. My introduction to the game was unconventional, to say the least. . .”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 1974 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
James and Sirius huddled with the rest of the Gryffindor team on the Quidditch pitch, gearing up for the match. The energy around them was electric, the stands packed with students and faculty from every house.
“Remember, keep to the left,” Halls, their team captain, said sternly, “and take advantage of Parkinson's blind spot. If Rollins and the rest of the Chasers start scoring above 40 before halftime, we'll go in for the Pincer.”
Sirius nodded, determined to win this match. It was the first one of the season, so a lot was riding on this. However, his attention was diverted as the crowd's cheers suddenly grew louder. The Slytherin team had arrived on the field, marching towards them. Something Sirius didn't expect to see, however, was you, dressed in Chaser's robes next to his brother.
“What are they doing here?” Sirius scoffed as he spotted you, “they're not even on the team!”
“Rollins took a spill last practice,” Vanity said as she stepped forward. The Slytherin captain had a wicked grin on her face, “(L/n)'s a last minute replacement. Don't bother trying to argue, I've already cleared it with Madame Hooch.”
“Convenient of you to tell us ahead of time,” Halls' eyes narrowed.
“Is there a part of 'last minute' that escapes your understanding?” Vanity rolled her eyes.
“Well, no matter,” Halls said, “you've lost your best Chaser, we don't have anything to worry about.”
“That classic Gryffindor confidence,” Vanity smirked, “we'll see about that. I don't choose just anyone to fill in.”
Halls scoffed as Vanity turned on her heels, not bothering to look back.
“Seems you've found yourself another game to lose, (L/n),” James smirked at you.
“Have I?” you arched a brow, “what's our score now? 10-9?”
“10-10 since I got you with that scalene water in the Prefect's bathroom,” James reminded you, “how was being half fish for a day?”
“Marvelous, felt just like you,” you quipped.
“Settle down, everyone,” Madame Hooch said, stepping out onto the field, “Potter, (L/n), I know you two have taken to pranks on each other in class, but I don't want to see a lick of that up in the air, understood?”
“Perfectly,” you said, a smirk sneaking onto your face as you mounted your broom.
“Wouldn't dream of it, professor,” James said with sarcastic flair.
Sirius eyed you cautiously. Gryffindor had flying class with Hufflepuff, so they'd never actually seen you fly before, but there was no doubt that if Vanity approved of you, you had to pose some kind of threat.
“Take your marks,” Hooch said, and you rose off the ground in unison, staring each other down. “Let the match begin!” With a strong, well placed kick, the Quidditch case was thrown open to release the bludgers and the snitch, and as she threw the quaffle up in the air you lunged forward into a dive. You were just about to grab the ball when a blur of red and gold nearly knocked you off your broom.
“Potter has the Quaffle!” Kingston commentated from the box, “he passes to Longbottom, who evades Catchlove and Regulus Black. Longbottom scores! The first ten points go to Gryffindor!”
The patrons in the red and gold stands went wild, the roar deafening in your ears. This was definitely different from flying class. You had to get it together.
The hair on the back of your neck suddenly stood straight up when something whizzed right past your head as you barely moved to dodge it. Sirius gave you a passive shrug from the other side of the field, a beater's bat resting on his shoulder.
“Tosser,” you grumbled under your breath. You had half a mind to throw him right through the left-field hoops without his broom, but dealing with the bludgers wasn't your job; you just had to evade and score. You wouldn't let your team down.
Your eyes searched the skies for the quaffle again, and found it as you spotted a Gryffindor snatch it out of Catchlove's hands. You built up momentum, lowering your body to your broom handle as you picked up speed, swiping the ball from the red Chaser's hands before his eyes could register. You flew under him before their team could rearrange formation and spun around quickly, swatting the quaffle towards the lower right goal with the tail end of your broom. Their Keeper dove to block it, but was one second too late. The ball flew through the hoop and straight into Regulus' hands, who looped back around and threw it through the top right, leaving the Gryffindor Keeper too disoriented and too low in the corner of the goal posts to do anything about it.
“(L/n) outmaneuvers Johnson and scores!” you heard the commentary box boom, “Regulus Black follows up with another goal, we are 20 Slytherin to 10 Gryffindor, what a quick turnaround to start off the match!”
You huffed, impressed that Regulus was able to make the most of your shot. You knew he was Sirius' brother, but that was about it. He was a year younger than you, so you didn't have any classes together and never really talked to him before.
“Nice shot,” you said, flying next to him.
“Same to you,” he said with the slightest upwards quirk of his lips.
“Oi, keep it up you two!” Vanity shouted, hovering over you before dodging the bludger that flew her way, “Black, keep point on Johnson, he's off his game today. (L/n) I want you on intercept and watch for Potter.”
“Gladly,” you smirked, flying off towards the other side of the field. You were starting to feel more comfortable in the air, like you were when you were just flying by yourself; the sounds of the crowd disappeared over the wind rushing in your ears, and you were able to concentrate on your main objective:
Kicking James Potter's arse.
And that you did. The all too confident smirk that seemed to be permanently plastered to his face disappeared when he suddenly felt the weight of the quaffle leave his hands. A victorious smile graced your lips at his dumbfound expression as you threw the ball long to Regulus, who caught it with ease, swatting Johnson away like a fly before scoring another goal.
“(L/n) passes to Black who scores another ten points for Slytherin!” Kingston announced, “it looks like the two rookie players are really hitting their stride now. Choosing (L/n) as a last second fill in is really paying off!”
Sirius' eyes narrowed, grunting in frustration as he hit another bludger your way. Regulus' head turned at the sound of the crack of the bat and signaled over to one of your Beaters, who tossed the bat his way just in time for the Slytherin to send the ball flying back towards his brother. Sirius cursed under his breath, rolling to the right and spinning out of control for a moment before reorienting himself.
“Hooch, what gives!” he shouted, “penalize them!”
“Fair play under protection,” Hooch denied him, “you've been taking headshots, Black. Be grateful I'm not docking you.”
Sirius grumbled a few choice words under his breath before flying back into the fray.
“Thanks for that!” you called over to Regulus.
“Don't mention it,” the boy said, his expression still fairly neutral save for the slight smirk on his face. How the hell was he so calm during this game anyways?
You continued to work with Regulus throughout the match; you'd found a system that worked, and your captain told you to roll with it. Pass after pass you intercepted and scored, mainly targeting Potter not just because Vanity had told you to, but because it brought you a considerable amount of personal enjoyment.
That's when you saw it— a tiny, nearly imperceptible flash of gold that whizzed by your peripheral vision. Neither of the Seekers had caught sight of it yet, but you watched as it zoomed low towards the ground, hovering just beneath one of the crowd stands.
“Oi, Talkalot!” you shouted over the crowd at your Seeker, “Dive low at Hippogriff, now!”
You'd only had a few hours to look over the strategies that Vanity laid out for you, but you knew the Slytherin team had come up with code words for each quadrant of the Quiditch pitch so you could alert your Seeker if you saw the snitch without the other team knowing where it was. You hoped to Merlin you'd gotten the code right, and you exhaled in relief as Talkalot zoomed past you, taking a sharp dive straight down.
“Nice eye, (L/n)!” she shouted over her shoulder, her voice trailing off as she went after the snitch at top speed.
Sirius' eyes widened as he saw the sporadic move from your Seeker. That could only mean one thing.
“Halls, they've got eyes on the snitch!” he shouted to his team captain who cursed under his breath, taking off in Talkalot's direction, but her lead was too great.
“She's got it!” Kingston hollered into the mic, “Lucinda Talkalot has caught the golden snitch, scoring 150 points for Slytherin! Our score comes out 50 Gryffindor to 230 Slytherin, and this match is over!”
“Slytherin wins!” Madame Hooch proclaimed from her broom.
Everyone in the emerald stands cheered so loudly you thought their tents would topple. You couldn't believe the amount of adrenaline coursing through your body in that moment. It was a complete sensory overload as you were bombarded by the Slytherin team, mostly comprised of people you hardly even knew, and thrown on top of their shoulders and they cheered for you.
“What a game, (L/n)! I never knew you could play!”
“Where the hell have you been all this time, eh?”
“You better try out next year or you're dead!”
You laughed at the last comment from Vanity, people buzzing around you as soon as you were set down. You broke away from the congratulatory comments and pats on the back, however, as you spotted James across the field. You couldn't help but rub this in his face a little.
“Why so blue, Potter?” you grinned as you bounded over to him, “what was that about me 'finding another game to lose'?”
For once, James had no clever comeback, and his face flushed as you laughed at his expression.
“I do believe that leaves us 11-10,” you said cheekily, doing an overly exaggerated bow before tossing your broom from your left hand to your right and stalking off.
“Not for long,” James said to himself once you were out of earshot, equal parts impressed and supremely annoyed. It was time for him to pay another visit to Zonko's. He'd show you blue all right. . .
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“After that year I tried out for a permanent position as Seeker,” you said, “your father and I concluded our prank war, Sirius and I put aside our differences, Lupin vouched for my involvement with the map, and the rest is history.”
“I seriously can't believe you became such close friends only two years later,” Harry said, shaking his head in bewilderment.
“Neither could we,” you said, “it was just a series of chance encounters that we learned we were more similar than we thought. I really do believe that friendship can come from anywhere, Harry. Even more so when you least expect it. So if there's anyone around you that you think you might never get along with, I'd say it's worth it to give them a chance.”
Harry paused at your words. There were more than a few people who came to mind.
You turned to the next page, which was a spread of you and the rest of the Marauders in more casual settings. One could clearly tell you had taken them of each other, if the shaky camera movement and blurry rendering were anything to go off of.
You smiled to yourself as you saw a photo of you and Remus asleep in the Hogwarts library, lightly leaning against each other with your eyes peacefully closed. Suddenly the camera flash jolted through the photograph, and you two bolted upright. You glared at the person taking the photo and reached out to smack the camera away, the picture going blurry for a moment before resetting. Harry laughed at the brief repeating scene, as did you.
“Your father took this one,” you huffed, “because of course he did.”
You rested your head in your palm as you transcribed a few spells into your notebook. The lantern in front of you gave you just enough light to read the elaborate Latin, as the sun had long since set. Your eyelids felt annoyingly heavy, attempting to close on their own as you fought against them to stay awake.
“How are you holding up?” Remus asked with a slight grin, catching you jump awake at his remark.
You and Remus had gotten permission from Madame Pince to use the library after hours to study; after all, you two were outstanding students. If James and Sirius had made the request, they wouldn't have gotten so positive a reaction.
“I've been more awake in my life, but I really need to get this done tonight,” you sighed, “NEWTS start next week and I have to be ready.” You stared up at the boy who was looking at you with obvious concern. “I'm fine, Moony. And I don't want to keep you here, so whenever you want to head off to bed, feel free to.”
“It's no trouble,” he said, “I'll walk you back to your common room, at least. At this rate you'll fall asleep in the middle of the hall for Filch to find you.”
You gave him a light but well-meant glare, groaning as you turned your tired eyes back to the parchment in front of you.
“Why the sudden all-nighters anyways?” Lupin asked, “I thought you'd be plenty prepared.”
“My Charms marks haven't exactly been the best lately,” you admitted, “that's kind of important if I want to become an auror, Remus.”
“Really?” the lycanthrope said, surprised, “but you're always in the know on some spell or another I've never even heard of. You've even made some of your own, right?”
“Yes, but the Ministry wants people who can conjure a corporeal patronus, not someone who made up a spell that makes antlers grow on someone's head to make a very specific joke.”
“Well, I thought it was impressive,” Remus laughed, thinking back to James asking him 'why does my head feel so heavy?' “but I see what you're saying,” Remus continued, “Have you thought about Dumbledore's proposal? Joining the cause might call for some more specialized tasks that would fit you well.”
“Right,” you bit your lip, “I just. . . I don't know. It's a lot to take on. A big part of me is scared, Remus. I'm not like you guys. I can't just fearlessly leap into a battle without any second thoughts. James and Sirius gave their answers so quickly and. . . I couldn't say for sure right away like they could. Honestly, I was terrified, and I still feel guilty because of it.”
“Fear is wisdom in the face of danger, (Y/n),” Remus said, “It's nothing to be ashamed of. No one is forcing you to make this decision right away, nor are they requiring you do it alone. There's a war going on out there, (Y/n). No one would blame you for not diving into it headfirst.”
“Always the quoter of muggle proverbs,” you chuckled lightly, “thank you, Remus. Really.”
A quiet yawn snuck into the back of your throat, and you stretched out of your chair to try to get feeling back into your body.
“Maybe I should turn in soon,” you said, your voice already groggy, “just a few more transcriptions. . .”
Remus stayed by your side as you continued to work diligently, and he found himself smiling at your innate stubbornness. It was something he greatly admired about you; when you decided on something you stuck to it no matter what, sometimes to a fault. You fought to keep your eyes open, even as your head began to slope and your handwriting gradually became slower.
Lupin was beginning to tire himself, which surprised him. He was naturally nocturnal, after all, and usually had no issue staying up to the early hours of the morning. But the quiet scratch of your quill against the parchment, the occasional sound of a page turning, and the smell of your shampoo that wafted with the motion, all lulled him into a sense of ease that was much too easy to doze off to.
Just when he thought he might fall asleep, he almost jumped out of his skin as he felt a soft pressure on his shoulder. He looked to the side to see you sleeping peacefully, your head having slipped from your palm and onto the soft fabric of his sweater. His face flushed a deep red, and he thanked Merlin you were sound asleep. He was caught in between embarrassment and slight panic as he instinctualy wanted to wake you but also ensure you actually got to sleep tonight.
He meant to wake you, he really had, but his mind and body betrayed him, and without even knowing when, his eyes fluttered closed and he drifted off into quite possibly the best sleep he'd had in weeks.
The flash of the magical camera was blinding, even through your closed eyelids. White spots danced in your vision as you groaned, shielding your face from the camera.
“MORNING, LOVEBIRDS!”
Remus jolted awake, remembering last night's events in an instant and banging his head on the bookshelf beside him in an attempt to put some distance between you two.
James was stood there, camera in hand and doubled over in laughter.
“Prongs, you better start running before I skin you and turn you into a pair of shoes,” you growled.
“How is it that I always catch you two sleeping together?” James chortled, completely ignoring your statement, “Can't be long till you get it on to the other sense of the phrase.”
And that's when you lunged at him. Too bad he didn't take your advice for a head start.
“That twat,” you said fondly, a statement that about summed up your and James' friendship.
Harry found himself smiling as you recounted your memories with his father. It made him feel that much more grateful for what he shared with Ron and Hermione.
“Oh, Merlin,” you laughed as you saw the next picture. You, Remus, Sirius, Peter, Lily, and James were standing side by side, Slughorn smiling in the middle of all of you. “This was the first and last Slug Club party that we ever attended all together,” you said, “Like I mentioned, Lily and I had always gone, and—”
You caught yourself.
And Severus would pretend to be reluctant tagging along, you finished in your mind. After what happened he stopped attending the parties.
You cleared your throat.
“Ahem, well, we'd always gone together as friends but none of the boys ever went with us,” you said, “It was our last year, and Lily finally convinced James to tag along, because by then they were together and he was contractually obligated to do so. I talked Sirius into coming because Slughorn had been trying to get him to come for years, and I made Remus my plus one. So for the first time ever, we were all at the party.”
“So it was the last party of the year?” Harry asked.
“Um, well, no,” you laughed, “it was the last party we were invited to. Let's just say your godfather thought it would be funny to enchant the ice sculptures to chase Lucius Malfoy around the dance floor. I'll admit, watching that stupid blonde ninny run screaming from a rapidly melting octopus to the tune of a classical string quartet was pretty entertaining, though Slughorn obviously felt otherwise.”
Harry chuckled, clearly seeing the spark of mischief in Sirius' eyes, even through a photo. As Harry's gaze drifted across the page, he noticed an empty space near the corner of the book. A discolored square remained where a photo should have been, the caption reading 'Christmas, 1976.' As he saw the way you ran your fingers lightly across the page, he decided against asking you what used to be there. He instead turned his attention to the next photograph, which was one taken in an all too familiar setting.
“Hold on,” Harry said, pointing to the picture, “that's the Gryffindor common room!”
“Sure is,” you grinned, “that secret passage from the dungeons to Gryffindor tower went from being used purely for pranking purposes to a way for us to actually hang out together at night.”
You stared down at the photograph fondly. You all looked so much older than the first pictures. You and James were lounging on the couch, not bothering to hide the overly full glasses of firewhiskey in your hands. Sirius and Remus were sitting on pillows on the floor, caught in the middle of a fit of laughter before all four of you turned to the camera which flashed. A pang of hurt and anger hit you square in the chest as it did. Peter had been the one taking the photo.
“I remember this day,” you said, an expression Harry couldn't quite figure out on your face, “it was the night before graduation. Our last night at Hogwarts. . .”
A giggle rose in your throat as you took yet another drink of firewhiskey with James and Sirius, something that Remus insisted you were going to regret come morning.
“Oh, don't be suck a stickler, Moony,” Sirius guffawed, “tonight's the night! This time tomorrow we'll be packing up camp and heading out into the great unknown.” He made an expansive gesture with his hand that was cut off promptly by James smacking him upside the head.
“I'll brew a pepperup potion tomorrow if anyone really needs it,” you assured Remus.
“Not really the point, (Y/n),” he rolled his eyes.
As you leaned back to look at the four of them, all grinning like idiots and laughing, you felt a strange sense of sadness come over you. This was your last night at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the place you had spent most of your life and where you had met the people you could no longer imagine that life without. As the reality of that fact sunk in, you grew quiet.
“Everything's going to be different after tomorrow, isn't it?” you said.
The boys looked surprised at your sudden and intense declaration, and James was the first to break the tension you'd created.
“Aww, Fangs is getting all sentimental,” he grinned, slinging an arm over your shoulder.
“I will toss you out this window, Prongs.”
He laughed, poking you in the cheek, his smile only widening as you huffed in annoyance.
“It won't be different,” he promised, more serious but with that smile ever present on his face, “we'll still be friends. We'll still be a pack. And besides, after we graduate we could go. . . well, anywhere together! Just think, the five greatest heroes Hogwarts has ever seen, going on top secret missions from Dumbledore, saving the world!”
“It'll be dangerous, James,” you said, “there's a war going on, remember?”
“What war could ever break us up, huh?” he said reassuringly. You felt your heart swell at the remark. “And besides, you're gonna have to see me next year for the wedding anyways! Lily wanted it sometime in Spring.”
“. . .”
“WEDDING?!” you, Sirius, Remus, and Peter screeched, practically in unison as if it had been planned and rehearsed. Chaos erupted in the room, and you couldn't care less if you woke everyone in Gryffindor tower.
“You sly git, when were you gonna tell us?!” Sirius whacked his friend over the head with the map.
“I just did!” James said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head, “And ow, Merlin, Pads. . .”
“You hit me first!”
“I can't believe you just dropped that on us,” you said, “Lily actually agreed to this?”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” James huffed.
“Hey, I'm just saying you tend to drift off into fantasy land when it comes to her,” you said, putting your hands up in mock surrender, “I was just making sure this was rooted in reality.”
Remus laughed at that, lifting the needle on his record gently.
“They have a point,” he chuckled.
“Yes, I actually proposed, and yes she actually agreed,” James said, a lovesick smile on his face, “I wanted to get married pretty soon after we graduated, and she had no problem with that. She said she'd want to start a family—”
“Oh GOD,” Sirius said, drunken horror on his face.
“An actual nightmare,” you joined in playfully, “imagine another one of you running around. Even Lily's DNA couldn't balance that out.”
“Alright, that's it,” James said, “you're not gonna be godparents anymore.”
“I'd be terrible at that anyways,” Sirius chortled.
“I disagree,” James said earnestly, and the comment struck Sirius completely off guard. He chocked up the welling tears in his eyes to the alcohol, taking another sip to mask it.
“You're going soft, Prongsy,” he grumbled.
“Look who's talking, tough guy,” James laughed, clapping his best friend on the shoulder.
“We should take a picture,” Peter suggested quietly, turning red when everyone stopped what they were doing to face him, “I-I mean, since (Y/n) was worried about things changing, and we're all graduating, a-and who knows when—”
“Good thinking Wormtail,” James beamed, pulling you closer and leaning down towards Sirius and Remus so you could all be in the frame.
Peter was looking down at his shoes, fidgeting with his wand.
“Peter, you don't wanna get in the picture?” you asked.
The large framed boy jumped at your voice, looking nervously between the people he had come to know as his friends. There was an oddly fearful look in his eyes that left as soon as it came— a look you wouldn't understand until years later.
“N-no, that's alright,” he said.
And that was one of the last peaceful days of your life you could recall.
“I haven't even thought about these in the longest time,” you said, staring at the faded photos, “it's crazy to look back on them. It feels both like yesterday and a hundred years ago.”
The next page immediately summoned a lump in your throat.
“This was their wedding,” you said, fighting to keep your voice level, “the year after we graduated.”
Harry looked down at the dozens of photos of the ceremony and party that took place after; James at the altar in his burgundy and gold embroidered suit, and Lily walking down the isle with a bouquet full of the flowers that shared her name. Remus raising a champagne flute to the large crowd of guests as he made a heartfelt speech. You and Sirius dancing under the floating lanterns made to mimic the Hogwarts ceiling.
“Your father never was one for subtlety,” you laughed lightly, “he wanted the ceremony to be as extravagant as possible. He pulled out all the stops. . . and then, the very next year, they announced that they were going to have you.”
You looked up at Harry, and the resemblance he shared with two of your closest late friends conjured feelings of happiness, love, and deep, cutting sadness all at the same time.
Your fingers moved to turn the page, wanting to move on to something else, but you froze as you saw the edge of the next one. So much for that plan.
“I think that's enough for now,” you said quickly, smoothing the page back down, “the others will be arriving soon for the meeting, you best get washed up.”
Harry was curious, of course, but he nodded, not wanting to press for anything else as he reluctantly headed back upstairs.
When you were left alone with the photo book you sighed, bringing yourself to turn the page to see a picture of you and Severus. You were beaming at the camera, proudly holding out your perfectly brewed Draught of Living Death, the photo having been taken by Slughorn to put up on his famous wall. One of your arms held the cauldron haphazardly, the other slung around Severus' shoulders. He certainly wasn't displaying your level of enthusiasm, but a small smile graced his expression, allowing his lips to fully curve upwards, which was as close to 'beaming' as he ever got. He looked so much younger— less burdened.
Right next to that photo was an older one from 1973. It was one you had taken from the top of the oak tree, with Severus and Lily looking up at you. You knew he'd be here soon, and you knew you should talk to him, but you found yourself stuck back in the cycle of doubting every opening spiel you came up with.
You groaned in frustration, snapping the book shut and resting your forehead on the table as stress flooded your being. You refused to live in this perpetual state of dwelling on what happened. You were ready to talk, you just had to take the first step.
Ch 7 .:Things Unforgivable and Things Left Unsaid:.
Graduation day at Hogwarts was supposed to mark the beginning of a new adventure for you. Instead, it marked the day you decided that whatever it was between you and Severus Snape, friendship or otherwise, it was over.
Or at least that's what you had thought. Of course, the universe just loved making things more complicated for you. You were working with Charlie in Romania when you had gotten word that Severus defected from the death eaters and was now working as a double agent at Dumbledore's behest. He continued teaching Potions at Hogwarts, and was even indited as a member of the Order. If anything, that only solidified your decision to go to America instead of staying in London. You didn't even know what to think. Of course you trusted Dumbledore, confusing as the man was, but you didn't know if you could really trust Snape again. You had worked towards forgiving him; over time you moved past what happened, but it was difficult to really say it was 'resolved' when you quite literally haven't spoken a word to each other in over a decade. You didn't even know where to start.
For the entirety of your seventh year, you didn't speak a word to Severus. It was hard to imagine that such a tight knit trio like the one you, him, and Lily had formed could crumble in an instant, but that's exactly what happened.
The end of your sixth year at Hogwarts was a quarter Snape would never forget, no matter how hard he tried. It was when everything fell apart. . .
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 1976 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“James!” you yelled, running to the top of the hill where he and the rest of the Marauders had Snape held upside down.
“What are you doing?” you said, immensely hurt and trying to keep your voice steady, “You said this would stop, you promised. . . you swore.”
“(Y/n), I. . .” James trailed off, immediately feeling guilty. As he turned to you Snape dropped to the ground, attempting to scramble to his feet but finding his ankle twisted.
Sirius moved towards you to say something but you put your hand up firmly.
“No,” you said, “not a word out of you, Black.”
Sirius stared at you, wide-eyed, shrinking back as you called him by his last name for the first time in a long while. Not Sirius, not Pads. Black. As if your whole friendship had just been reset.
“And you two,” you said, addressing Remus and Peter, “how could you let this happen?!”
All four boys looked at you in shame, none of them daring to verbally respond.
Suddenly, Lily came running up the hill, having fallen behind you in your quick pace.
“Severus!” she panted, rushing over to him, “are you alright?”
Snape was in an angered daze, not even registering the words being said around him. The blood rushing through his veins felt like lava, his heart pounding in his ears, his chest, his tongue. His face burned with humiliation and hatred. Pure fucking hatred for James Fleamont Potter. For Lily to see him like that. . . for you to see him like that, pathetic, helpless, in need of your help once again. He wouldn't have it. He was a master of the dark arts now, he didn't have to fucking take this. He would curse Potter into the next century, he would—
“Severus!”
Snape's eyes snapped open, not even realizing they were closed. The world came rushing in around him and he was suddenly acutely aware of Lily's hand on his arm. He reeled back at her touch as if he'd been burned.
“Don't touch me!” he screeched, startling the redheaded girl. Her eyes were filled with concern, but all Snape could see was pity.
“Sev—“
“I don't need any help from you, you filthy Mudblood!”
And everyone in the clearing stilled.
The color drained from Snape's already pale face as he realized what he'd just said.
“Don't come any closer,” Lily said, her voice stone cold as tears welled up in her eyes.
“I'll kill you,” James said lowly.
“Prongs, no—”
“I'll kill you, you slimy bastard!” James growled, Remus moving quickly to hold him back.
You stood in the middle of it all, staring at Severus. Severus, who'd always told Lily that blood status didn't matter. Severus, who you and Lily always stood up for no matter what. Severus, who you thought you had feelings for up until this exact moment.
Without even thinking you stepped forward, grabbing Lily's hand.
“Let's go, Lils,” you said, your expression unreadable as you looked down at Severus. Lily squeezed your hand back gratefully, fighting the sobs racking her chest as she turned around and took off with you.
“(Y/n), wait—” Snape tried to get up but found himself shoved back down to the ground by Sirius.
“No,” he said sharply, “you don't get to say anything to either of them, you hear me?”
“I—”
“What?” James spat, “you're sorry? Well sorry doesn't cut it! You say a word to her after what you called her and you'll wish you'd never have been born.”
Snape's head hung low, that wish already present in his mind.
“Leave him,” Remus said, this time not out of mercy, but malice; letting Snape wallow in his own misery as he left with his friends, looking for you and Lily.
Soon, Severus was left alone. Just as he began, and just as he should have never hoped for anything different. Was this it? That's how it was going to end? One mistake, and the only two people he'd ever cared about were ripped away from him.
No. He decided he had to apologize properly, consequences be damned. If those Marauders wanted to beat him to a bloody pulp afterwards, that was fine by him. He just needed to talk to Lily one more time. To tell her how deeply sorry he really was.
He took off down the hill, sprinting towards the castle and completely ignoring the burning pain in his ankle. He rushed through the grass, ignoring the looks he received from the other students walking by. He ran past the oak tree, through the castle gates, flying through the corridors and cutting across the courtyard when he skid to a stop at what he saw.
Lily and James stood in the center of the garden, her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as his lips captured hers. Her eyes were still wet with tears, the tears that he had caused. Severus didn't do a thing. His presence remained unknown to them as he slunk away back to his common room, heart silently breaking.
He was too late.
Nothing was the same after that.
Lily insisted that if you wanted to remain friends with Snape, as she now referred to him, she wouldn't hold it against you, but she made it very clear that she would never forgive him herself. But it wasn't as easy as wanting to stay friends with him or not; he'd changed that day.
After some time to let things settle down you tried to approach him, but he only became more and more hostile towards everyone, including you. You hardly saw him anymore. The only time you occasionally spotted him was when he was walking around school with Malfoy, Mulciber, Wilkes, and Avery, unable to look you in the eye lest you see the utterly crushed expression on your face as he fell deeper and deeper into the dark side.
You held your books tightly to your chest as you made your way to Hagrid's hut for one of your last Care of Magical Creatures class. You were being paired up with a few lower classmen to teach them the ropes for feeding all the creatures Hagrid kept in the meadows. You were a tad late, having been preoccupied at lunch, speedwalking to try and arrive on time when you saw a flash of silver-blue light emit from inside the forest. You could hear warbled shouting and laughter coming from the same direction, and your instincts told you to run.
However, because your nerves were on high alert, that also told you someone in there was in danger, and you couldn't just walk away from that. You drew your wand, abandoning your books by a rockface and moving towards the commotion, the distorted shouting soon becoming words.
“Oh come on, you little runts, you lot can do better than that!” you recognized Mulciber's voice.
A young girl shrieked as a giant acromantula barred its fangs at her, its front legs raised and poised to attack. Her friends were huddled in a corner, more students who couldn't have been older than second or third years, being forced to watch by Avery and Wilkes.
“How's this for Care of Magical Creatures, eh?” Mulciber taunted as he walked over to the other students, pulling a young boy out from the group.
“No!” the girl cornered by the spider cried, “please, don't!”
“Aw, how cute,” Mulciber drawled, “is this your little boyfriend, huh? Shame.”
The boy screamed in fear as he was suddenly lifted into the air by his ankles, forced to hover right above the spider just out of its reach. You wanted to wretch as you watched the scene unfold, unable to keep yourself hidden any longer.
You leaped into the clearing, a quick flick of your wrist relieving Mulciber of his wand. You did the same to Wilkes as he turned to you.
“Well well, why am I not surprised?” Avery scoffed. Right behind him stood Severus, his expression vacant.
“Grab this, and get to Professor McGonagall immediately,” you shouted to the younger Gryffindor students, tossing them a gold galleon. As soon as they touched the coin, the portkey shot them all back to the castle.
“Why are you always the one spoiling our fun?” Mulciber sneered.
“Someone's gotta do it,” you said, putting up a brave front although you were under no illusion as to your situation. You weren't fourth years anymore, and you were alone this time. They'd been studying the dark arts for the past two years. You knew you were outmatched, even with your dueling skills.
“Oh, come on, (Y/n), don't be a bore.”
You turned around at the sound of the familiar voice to see Rosier, an easy grin set into his face. Your heart dropped.
“So you too, huh?” you chuckled bitterly, “and here I thought you were one of the few good ones left.”
“You're not really that naive, are you?” he tutted, “you had to have known I would be inducted eventually. Might even get Barty to join us, even if he is a little nutty.”
You went for a stunning spell but found your wand spinning out of your hand before you even saw him move.
“Not so fun to be on the receiving end, is it?” Rosier said, “you're not the only one versed in non-verbal magic, (Y/n). In fact, I'd even go so far as to say we've surpassed you. Lucius will be furious, but I like you a lot, so I'll re-extend his old offer for him. Join us.”
You had no wand, no backup, no way out of this, but you stood your ground nonetheless.
“Eat shit,” you seethed. Rosier glowered at you, taking a few menacing steps forward. He grabbed your jaw firmly and you grit your teeth.
“I don’t think you heard me—”
He reeled back as you spit right in his face,
“You bitch,” he growled, wiping his face in disgust, “clearly no one ever bothered to train you.”
Without your wand you were really only left with one option, ready to defend yourself by revealing your animagus form, but you never got to take the first step forward.
“Imperio!”
You stopped in your tracks as a veil of what could only be described as pink fluff drifted over your mind. A smile immediately appeared on your face, and a giggle rose in your throat.
Severus looked at Rosier with horror, the rest of his crew looking among themselves uneasily.
“What do you think you're doing?” Snape hissed, “are you trying to get us all expelled?”
“So what?” Rosier said, “we've used the killing curse loads of times.”
“On insects, you loon,” Snape shot back, hoping his concern for you was masked enough.
“Don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt your precious (Y/n), Sev.”
The nickname made his stomach churn. You used to call him that. Lily used to call him that. No one else did. No one else got to.
“Release them,” he said, raising his wand, “now.”
“Put that away,” Rosier's eyes narrowed, a smirk sliding back onto his face as he got an idea, “hey, (Y/n)?”
“Yes?” you answered, your voice dripping with honey.
“I don't think Severus likes you being under this spell,” Rosier said, “but you like it don't you?”
“Mmm hmm,” you nodded, your head feeling like it was floating, “it feels so nice.”
“You know what else would feel nice?” Rosier goaded, “if you gave our friend Sev here a kiss.”
Severus' heart dropped to his stomach.
“You're sick, Rosier,” Snape said, his voice close to tremmoring.
“You don't have to act like you don't want it,” Evan chuckled, “we've watched you putz around (L/n) like a fool for years. Besides, they want to. Isn't that right, (Y/n)?”
“He's right,” you said, your voice deceptively melodic, “I love you, Severus. I've always loved you.”
And in that moment, Snape had never hated himself more. Because he didn't care that Rosier was making you say the things you did. He didn't care that you were under the influence of a curse. All he could hear was the words he longed to hear spill from your lips, over and over like a skipping record.
I love you, Severus. I love you, Severus. I love you, Severus.
He played the words on repeat in his head. His heart was beating almost painfully in his chest, so much so that he hardly even noticed you slowly walking towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck like Lily had done to James. And when you leaned forward to kiss him, his selfish desires held him in place.
It had lasted a fraction of a second, but he didn't pull away. It was the greatest regret of his life that he didn't walk up to Rosier, break his nose, and curse every single person in that clearing instead of doing nothing, knowing full well you had no control over your actions.
When his eyes drifted open and met yours and his stomach twisted into ugly knots, fear and panic wracking through his spine. Your eyes were completely empty, irises a vacant white, and in that moment it felt as if he were kissing a corpse.
Suddenly the color returned to your eyes, and fear immediately filled them. Snape grunted as he was shot away from you, unable to move when he hit the ground. The other Slytherins looked around for the assailant, but they had no time to react when every single one of their wands was pulled from their hands. McGonagall stood there, expression the same as ever but clearly brimming with fury.
“(L/n), come,” she said, ushering you over and taking you protectively in her embrace, “we'll get you to Madame Pomfrey.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she regarded Snape and the rest of their group, “As for you,” she said, “Mr Filch, secure them in the dungeons until the Headmaster calls for them. And put all of their wands in the lockbox.”
“With pleasure,” Filch said, almost blending in with the trees behind her.
“Are you alright?” McGonagall asked you as she helped you back towards the castle.
“No,” you said, honestly, “n-no, I don't think I am.”
“No amount of apology could ever equate to the remorse I feel that this happened to you, (L/n),” she said earnestly, “I am truly sorry. This was completely unacceptable, and I will see to it that the proper measures are taken for their punishments. Expulsion would suit just fine, but even if the Headmaster disagrees, I will personally ensure you never come into contact with any of those boys again.”
“Thank you,” you said, your voice sounding hollow in your own ears.
You didn't remember walking the near half-mile to the infirmary. Madame Pomfrey's words felt so far away, as if she were speaking underwater. You just remembered laying down in the hospital wing bed as she checked you for any lasting damage, and as soon as she'd turned her back you'd just wept.
That night, Snape found himself in the Prefect's bathroom, leaned over the sink and watching the water rush into the drain. His hands clutched the marble sides of the basin so hard his knuckles turned white, every breath catching painfully in his chest before he forced it out to take another shaky inhale. He was an idiot, he knew. There was no fixing this. Not really. First Lily, now you. Was he just predestined to lose everyone in his life?
He paused. No, he didn't deserve to think like that. Everything that had gone wrong was his own doing.
When he heard the door to the bathroom open he whipped around, ready to curse whoever dared to interrupt him until he saw you standing there, your eyes red from crying and the Marauder's Map clutched in your hands like a vice. He was half certain you were a hallucination, but as soon as he pulled himself to the present, he rushed to apologize. You had to know how horrible he felt about what he did, even if you would never forgive him. He made the mistake of being too cowardly to properly apologize to Lily, he wouldn't make that mistake again.
“(Y/n), I'm—”
“I know you're sorry,” you said callously, “and I know you mean it. That's not the issue.” you took a breath to collect yourself before you continued. This was so much harder than you thought it would be. Maybe this wound really was too fresh right now. You thought you'd be able to handle this conversation, but your prior feelings weren't making this any easier.
“Why did you do it?” you asked quietly, “Better, why did you do nothing? You were my friend, Severus.”
Whatever was holding back the flood of emotions in him, it snapped at your words.
Were. Past tense.
“I don't know what I was thinking,” Snape said in exasperation, though it came off more as anger directed at himself. His hands threaded through his messy black locks, his eyes nearly manic. You'd never seen him unravel quite like this. He was desperate to fix this, to keep you in his life. “No, I wasn't thinking at all, (Y/n). I couldn't, not when you were . . . not when I. . .”
Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it—
“Not when I've fancied you for years.”
Snape knew immediately that he had made a mistake. The expression on your face made his stomach twist, and he knew there was no taking back what he said.
“No,” you said, tears welling in your eyes, “Severus Snape, don't you dare say that. What, do you think that just makes this all okay? You're an oblivious idiot, you know that?”
Your heart ached so bad it felt as if you couldn't breathe.
“Do you know how many times I wished you would have kissed me?” you said shakily, not bothering to hide the hurt in your voice.
Snape was sure his breathing had stopped, eyes wide with shock. He couldn't have heard that right. Did you really feel the same way about him? But reality hit him in the face when he saw your expression. This was no heartfelt confession on your part.
“For you to just. . . for it to happen like that,” you said, still struck with betrayal and disbelief, “If you've ever respected me, you never would have let that happen. I was under a curse, Severus. And you took advantage of that— of me. All because you were too much of a coward to just tell me how you felt. And then you go on and say you've liked me this whole time as a last ditch effort to save our friendship? How the hell did you expect me to react?”
He had nothing to say to that. He blamed himself entirely. Every verbal blow you struck he gladly took, he would have sat there still as stone if you hexed him, but you refused to draw your wand at him. You just stood there, staring straight through him with unbelievable hurt in your eyes.
“I can't do this, Severus,” you said, “please, just. . . just leave me alone. I'm not saying I'll never forgive you, but right now I can't even begin to think about that. Not now.”
You looked like you wanted to say something more, but your mouth snapped shut, and Severus saw the finality in your eyes. He stayed glued to the spot where he stood long after he watched you leave, his eyes trained on the door you'd slammed shut.
If you thought Snape had made himself scarce after what he said to Lily, after what he did to you he practically vanished. He no longer sat underneath the tree that had become so symbolic of your former trio. He no longer roamed the Slytherin common room, or even the Great Hall for meals. Instead he would walk through the forbidden forest alone, or hole up in some empty corridor purposely hiding but hoping you would walk up to him. You never did.
The people who did find him in the few days that followed were the newly named Marauders, though incomplete as they arrived without you. As he glanced down at the parchment in Lupin's hand he had no questions about how they'd located him. Snape grimaced, not bothering to get up from his seat beneath the stone pillar. Anything they did to him was what he deserved.
James stepped forward from the group first. His expression was unreadable, but Snape saw the way his jaw was set firmly in place, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. The Slytherin had expected Potter to come at him guns blazing, sending a flurry of verbal attacks and hexes his way. However, James Potter simply stared down at his former enemy with a look that met in the intersection of barely contained anger and utter disappointment.
“You didn't deserve them,” he said coldly, his voice oddly level.
“I know,” Snape glared, but not feeling very self-righteous.
“No, you don't,” James said, his voice rising steadily, “you will never know what you put them through. You sat there while your lunatic friends used an Unforgivable Curse on them, and you took advantage of them. I don't care if you know, I'm going to throw it back in your face, because it's what you deserve.”
“I think it's clear that (Y/n) doesn't wish to speak with you any longer,” Remus said, “if for some inconceivable reason they want to in the future, they'll approach you. Don't you even think about going about it the other way around before they're ready and willing to talk. If they ever are.”
“It's settled, Severus,” James said simply, “you're officially not worth our time anymore.”
Snape blinked up at him, trying to recall a time when Potter had ever called him by his actual name.
“Don't get us wrong,” Sirius glared, “the only reason we aren't throwing you to the Womping Willow is because we know the last thing (Y/n) would want is her friends getting expelled because of them.”
“We'll leave you alone now,” Peter said grimly, “just like you've always wanted.”
And they were telling the truth. They left him completely alone, not speaking a word to him after that; 'they' now including you and Lily, which destroyed him more than any amount of bullying had before. He watched from afar as you grew closer and closer to the Marauders. . . no, you were a Marauder. It was only natural that you became almost like a family in your seventh year. You, James, Peter, Sirius, Remus, and Lily had become as inseparable as Snape thought you, him, and Lily were, but he'd ruined that. He had ruined every good thing that had ever happened to him and pushed away every important person in his life.
The last time he saw you was graduation day. Everyone was running around excitedly, dressed in the ceremonial jewel-toned robes of their respective houses as they awaited Dumbledore's speech. You had been sitting with your group as usual, now having carved out your own spot at the Gryffindor table, when you noticed that Snape was nowhere to be found.
You frowned, wondering why he of all people had to slip into your mind on a day like today.
“You alright, Fangs?”
Sirius' voice snapped you out of your thoughts.
“Yeah, I'm fine. . .”
His handsome features contorted in concern, but that easy grin slid back onto his face as he nudged you with his shoulder.
“What, you worried you're gonna miss us?” he smirked, “this isn't goodbye, you know. We'll all see each other at the Order meetings—”
“Which you always seem to talk about at an extraordinary volume,” Remus shushed him pointedly. Sirius brushed him off with a roll of his eyes.
“(Y/n), are you sure nothing's wrong?” James asked from across the table.
“I'm alright, Prongs,” you said, “I just. . . you know what? I just remembered I left something in my dorm, I'll be right back.”
Your friends exchanged worried glances as you got up from the table, taking off towards the Slytherin common room. It wasn't a total lie, but your intentions went against your better judgment. After today there was a very, very good chance you would never see Severus again. What he did wasn't okay by any means, and it would take more than an apology or a simple conversation to forgive him, but you needed closure at the very least. Not for him, but for you. You deserved that much.
You swiped the map off your bedside table and opened it fully, your eyes quickly picking out Severus' name near the cellars only a few rooms away from where you were. You took off quickly down the hall, reaching the intersection where all the dungeon's corridors converged when you spotted him. Your heart stopped.
His left sleeve was rolled up to his elbow, as was the person's standing across from him, their back to you. Even though you couldn't see the second person's face, you recognized who it was immediately.
Evan Rosier.
He wasn't on the map before. . . how had he gotten in?! He'd been expelled after the day he cursed you. Did he somehow find a way to bypass the anti-apparition charm?
You felt your breathing hitch, fear creeping under your skin. There, on both of their arms, was a tattoo of a skull, a serpent weaving its way through the mouth and eye sockets in an undeniable pattern. You stopped breathing all together. You knew Severus had fallen into the dark arts, but to actually be a death eater? To be proudly showing off that awful display of radicalism along with the person who had used an Unforgivable Curse on you, who had invaded your free will and taken over your body. . .
Severus must have felt you even from the opposite side of the hallway, because something pricking at his skin told him to look up, and when he did he wished he never had. You were looking at him for the first time in over a year, your eyes full of terror. Rosier followed his gaze, but when he looked over his shoulder there was no one there.
Severus sighed, trying to push the less than pleasant memories out of his head. He knew by now he was likely the last person left in the house besides you, Harry, and Sirius who were all staying here. Something like hope had sparked in his chest when he saw the faintest ghost of a smile on your lips as you saw him for the first time since graduation. He wanted to talk to you, to tell you he knew he deserved nothing from you, but he would spend the rest of his life trying to make it right if you would only give him a chance after all this time. In truth, he missed his friend. With Lily gone, you were one of the closest things he had to that left.
Against his better judgment, Severus made his way up the stairs, silent as a thestral as he headed for your room, but he stopped in his tracks when he reached the top. Sirius' door was cracked open the slightest bit, and what Snape saw inside made his blood run cold. You were sitting next to Sirius on his bed, your head resting gently on his shoulder. As you craned your neck to look Sirius in the eyes, that's when Severus saw it— the way the Marauder looked at you. The way his face seemed to light up, the spark that returned to his gray eyes, the utter adoration in them.
And just like that, Snape was a seventeen year old boy again, transported right back to that courtyard garden, watching Lily and James share their first kiss on the day he had made one of the biggest mistakes of his life. His heart shattered silently, though his departure was not so quiet as he took off down the stairs as quickly as he could. He grimaced at his own feelings, ones he knew he had no business owning.
As he was about to open the front door to leave, his instincts suddenly screamed at him to turn around, and he was just barely able to cast an invisibility charm as you began to come down the stairs. He held his breath as he looked at you. He knew he had no right to think so, but you were still beautiful like this; dressed in pajamas, hair disheveled, eyes still sightly puffy and red. He saw you look around, knowing you had no doubt heard his rather noisy descent of the staircase, and he cursed himself for not leaving sooner. Your eyes searched what should have appeared to be the empty space in front of you, but he saw you look him in the eyes, and he knew that you knew.
“Severus?” you called his name out softly, and the sound felt like a strike to his face.
He wanted nothing more than to say something to you, talk to you, hold you. But his mind flashed back to the way you had been with Sirius, and his words died in his throat. He said nothing, trying to remain unphased at your hurt expression as you turned around to walk back up the stairs. As soon as your back was turned to him, he left, unable to bring himself to do anything more.
“That was when they were first starting to put the map together,” you continued, “but that wasn't even the biggest secret they had. Of course, I wouldn't find out about that for another year. . .”
“So at this point I knew that they were hiding something else, but not what it was,” you told Harry, continuing on with your story, “But one night we had planned to meet up and use the invisibility cloak to map out the underground tunnels that ran through the storage cellars, and they never showed up. So I snuck into the Gryffindor common room through the secret passage and found their dorm completely empty. But what was there was our work in progress map. . .”
“This isn't going to work,” Peter said flatly, watching James and Sirius draw a large circle in chalk on the floor of the Shrieking Shack.
“Not with that attitude it's not,” James said, “if there's a way we can speed up this process I'm willing to give it a go. I don't know how long I can go on with this bloody leaf in my mouth.”
“Is this even real?” Peter sighed, “it looks like what muggles think magic is.”
“It's real all right,” Sirius said, “old, but real. I mean, Transfiguration was founded on the principles of magic circles! I'm not really sure what these runes on the side mean, but it's probably not important.”
“I seriously doubt that,” Peter retorted, “Remus, back me up here.”
He turned towards Lupin, but he had long since dozed off, arms crossed as he leaned against one of the nearly decaying walls in the corner. Peter sighed, taking a piece of paper from the ground and crumpling it into a ball before promptly throwing it in the sleeping boy's face. Lupin jolted awake, realizing what had happened and chucking the paper back at Peter in annoyance.
“Not a moment of peace,” he huffed under his breath.
“Sounds awfully boring,” James said over his shoulder.
“Blimey, what time is it?” Remus said, panicked as he noticed the light had completely gone from the sky, “It's long past sundown.”
“So?” Sirius shrugged.
“So, we told (Y/n) we'd meet them to work on the map at dusk,” Remus said, “They're probably looking for us right now!”
“Oh, they are,” you announced your presence, an unimpressed look on your face as they jumped, whipping around to look at you.
“(Y-Y/n)!” Sirius stuttered, “how did you—”
You held up the map, raising a brow at the four guilty looking boys.
“Right. . .”
“You snuck into our rooms?!” James said incredulously as he saw the map, which he was sure he had left on his bedside table, in your hands.
“You've snuck into my shower before, Potter,” you glared lightly at him.
“Point taken.”
“Okay, look, I'm sorry we didn't show tonight, and I know we've been acting weird,” Sirius sighed, “the truth is—”
“Lupin's a werewolf.”
The color drained from Remus' face, slightly mortified that you already knew.
“Come on, guys,” you said, “the claw marks and you lot disappearing whenever there's a full moon kind of gave it away. You aren't exactly subtle about it.”
You could sense the intense nervousness in the room, especially from Remus. Ok, so maybe coming right out with it wasn't the best course of action.
“Look,” you said, “if you're worried about anyone else finding out, they won't. I mean, the only reason I even knew you were here is because I'm literally helping you make a magical map that details all the secret passages and shows where everyone is. I won't tell anyone, I swear.”
They still seemed a little unsure, and you bit the inside of your lip slightly.
“If it'll make us even, I'll let you know a secret of my own,” you said, “it can even be future blackmail me if you really don't trust me.”
“No, it's not that, (Y/n),” Remus said as he stepped forward, his throat feeling dry, “it's just, well, I've never really told anyone except the people in this room. Having someone else know. . . it's just a lot to process, but if had to be anyone I'm glad it's you.” He paused for a moment, feeling oddly self-conscious as he regarded you. “When I turn into a werewolf I can't recognize any human as someone I know. I have no control over myself in that state. In the worst case scenario, I could injure or even kill someone I didn't mean to. We originally started taking note of the secret passages and rooms to find a place where I could turn safely and not hurt anyone, and we settled on here. I don't remember much when I come out of it, but. . . I do feel this painful sense of separation each time. Werewolves are pack creatures by nature, so being isolated in that state is. . . agony, if I must be honest. They all figured, I can't recognize humans, but perhaps I could recognize other animals, so. . .”
“They're trying to become animagi,” you finished, “so you won't have to be alone. That's. . . that's actually really sweet,” you said, a breathy laugh escaping you.
Remus thanked Merlin the Shrieking Shack was as dimly lit as it was so his beet red face was at least somewhat less noticeable.
“I agree,” Remus said, turning to his friends and sharing a rare, genuine moment with them. “And, you don't have to tell us your secret,” he said, turning back to you, “it's okay.”
“Hey, I wanted to know,” Sirius said, Peter swiftly elbowing him in the ribs.
“I was actually planning on telling you anyways,” you said, “If you guys are trying to become animagi, I can help you.”
You took a few steps back, bracing yourself against the wall.
“Promise me you won't freak out.”
After receiving a few quick nods, you kicked off the wall. Your body seemed to morph in mid-air, shrinking and re-configuring so fast that by the time you landed on the floor you had been entirely replaced by a large, (e/c)-eyed wolf with fur reminiscent of your hair.
Peter yelped, instinctively putting Sirius in front of him who was gawking at the sight. Remus was in complete shock and you could have sworn you saw James' glasses slip down his face.
In your animal form your heightened senses could sense their fear, and you tried your best to assuage it. You padded around in a circle, sitting down and blinking up at them to try and show them you were in control of your actions. After you figured they'd seen enough, you crawled back into your robes, which had pooled on the floor when you'd transfigured, and willed your body to turn back.
James, Sirius, and Peter looked somewhere in the intersection of shocked and terrified, but Remus looked nothing less than impressed.
“That's amazing, (Y/n),” he said breathlessly, “your transformation was seamless, how long have you had this ability?”
“My aunt had me go through the process when I was nine,” you said, a bitter edge to your voice as you fastened your clothes back around you, “it's not fun, but obviously useful. And thank you, but trust me, it didn't come at all naturally to me. I spent a good part of my winter break stuck with a wolf's hind legs, which is just as inconvenient as it sounds.”
“But this proves that it's possible!” James said, a new rush of energy invigorating him, “we can actually pull this off.”
“If I can manage to keep this sodding leaf from choking me every ten minutes,” Peter grumbled.
“Here, this should help with that,” you said, drawing your wand and pointing it at Peter's mouth. With a simple sticking charm, he suddenly felt the odd sensation of the leaf in his mouth disappearing, only to find it had melded with the flesh on the underside of his tongue.
“It's a long process, but yes, it's possible,” you said to James. Your eyes drifted to the floor where the magic circle and pages of runes were still scattered about, “if you were thinking of taking shortcuts, you might have wanted to read the warning about this spell requiring a blood sacrifice.”
The quartet paled and you laughed at their dumbstruck expressions.
“Kidding,” you grinned, “but seriously, there's no shortcuts. Now look alive, boys. We have a lot of work to do.”
From then on, you helped the four wizards along on their quest to become fully fledged shifters.
“In order to become an animagus, a wizard must keep a Mandrake leaf in their mouth for an entire month, even when eating and sleeping,” Peter read aloud from the book they'd snatched from the restricted section, “Next, under a full moon, the wizard must place the leaf in a vial full of dew that has neither been stepped on nor exposed to the sun. The resulting potion must be stored in a dark place, and the following incantation: Amato Animo Animato Animagus, must be recited every morning until an electrical storm arrives, at which point the potion can be taken.”
“Blimey, all that to turn into a bloody cat?” Sirius said, exasperated.
“Well we have the first part almost done,” James said, feeling the faintest outline of the leaf still under his tongue, “Next full moon we'll have to go dew-hunting, I suppose. Looks like you'll have to stick it out for a few more cycles, Moony,” he said to Remus.
“That's alright,” he said, “I've made it this far.”
“He won't be alone for those,” you said, “I'll spend the full moons with him until you guys are ready.”
“What?” James said, looking at you like you'd just told him you were off to join Voldemort, “not a chance, that's way too dangerous.”
“Aw, don't act like you're all concerned about me all of a sudden, Potter,” you smirked. When his expression didn't change it took you aback slightly. He was actually worried about you. “Look, I'm probably the best suited for it anyways,” you said, coughing a bit to coast through the awkward tension, “Remus and I are both wolves, or at least partly. If one of you end up turning into a sheep or something you might be dead meat, not to freak you out or anything.”
“That's reassuring,” Sirius said under his breath.
“You really don't have to do this,” Lupin insisted as you sat on the floor together in the Shrieking Shack later that month.
“I want to,” you assured him, “take it as a thanks for helping me pass Arithmancy. Besides, it's a perfectly fine excuse for me to practice interacting with other animals in my animagus form.”
The boy beside you was quiet for a moment, shoulders tense and jaw set tight. It wasn't that he wasn't happy you were here, he was more grateful than you could know, but he was terrified that he was going to end up hurting you. On top of that was the fact that he didn't want you to see him as he transformed. It wasn't pretty, and it was visibly painful. He didn't want you to think any lower of him, though he knew that fear was irrational.
The calming jazz record that spun on the other side of the room was the only noise between you two for quite some time, but you understood that he needed time to gather his thoughts. This was something so deeply personal you were surprised and a bit honored he allowed you to be here at all. You noticed the photograph that he held in his hands; it was of Hogwarts, taken from the very edge of the forest. The sun was peeking over the horizon, spilling out between the complexly constructed towers that made up the castle's exterior, and casting a warm, golden hue over the landscape.
“It's beautiful,” you said, “the picture.”
“It is,” Remus smiled to himself and nodded, “James gave it to me, as a reminder. He said that matter what happens during the full moon, the sun will always rise on us again.”
“Huh,” you mused softly, “perhaps he isn't such an insufferable jerk after all.”
“Oh, no, he is,” Lupin chuckled, “but he is also a very good friend, and endlessly thoughtful even if he denies it.”
You let that sink in for a moment. You supposed he was.
“Well,” you said, laughing a bit as you shifted in your seat, “this isn't as deep and meaningful as the photo, but I brought something for you.” You reached into your bag, retrieving something that made Remus' eyes widen.
“Where did you get that?” he said, elated as you held out his favorite chocolate bar which had been out of stock at Hogsmeade for weeks now.
“You guys have a secret tunnel that goes right to the Honeydukes cellar and you've never taken advantage of their storage?” you grinned.
Lupin hesitated as he held the bar in his hands.
“So you stole it?”
“I left five dracma in the tip jar,” you rolled your eyes, “I'm not a death eater.”
His smiled returned at that, and he ripped open the familiar foil gratefully.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
“It's the least I could do,” you said.
“It's really not,” he said, turning to face you fully. You were left a bit breathless as the unexpected intensity of his eyes. “None of this is the least you could do, because the least you could do is nothing,” he continued, rambling, “we were so horrible to someone you consider a dear friend, and you were willing to look past that. You're risking your life by even being with me right now, (Y/n).”
“You don't—”
“I do know that,” Remus said sharply, “I've never been in contact with anyone as a werewolf. The one time I was, I. . .” he trailed off, and it hurt you to see his pained expression, “I just don't know how I'll react.”
“You're saying that as if something bad's already happened,” you said gently, “it'll be okay.”
“How can you be so sure?” he asked quietly, equally full of frustration and admiration.
“I'm willing to put my trust in you, Remus. I think it's time you put some trust in yourself.”
Lupin's heart pounded a little harder in his chest. Had you ever called him by his first name before? You looked at him so reassuringly, so confidently. He couldn't understand it, but your words reached him to his core.
“(Y/n). . .” he trailed off, blinking rapidly. A shaky breath escaped him, and your stomach dropped.
“Remus?”
Suddenly you saw something shift in him. His breathing became heavy and his pupils dilated, completely filling his irises in a matter of seconds. He braced himself against the wall as he stumbled to his feet, his skin slowly taking on a gray hue.
“It's happening,” he said, voice deeper and strained, his neck convulsing, “you have to transform, now!”
You didn't waste any time, taking the shape of your wolf form and padding away a cautionary distance. Your stomach churned as you watched Remus yell out, his expression full of pain as his body grew in size, his cries slowly becoming reminiscent of howls. His face contorted in agony as his head morphed into a more animalistic shape, ears growing from his scalp and fur appearing as if his werewolf was fully formed inside him, physically escaping through his skin. You've seen werewolves before, but seeing someone you know actually turn into one, it was completely different. Nothing could have prepared you for this. Seeing anyone in this much pain made your chest tighten harshly.
At last it seemed the transformation was complete. Remus Lupin was gone, and in front of you stood a creature of at least eight feet, perched on his hind legs and towering over you especially in your animal form. You could hear how ragged his breathing had become, his body convulsing with the motion; growing and retracting like a beating heart. You heard a whimper escape his throat, and you could tell he was still recovering from the pain.
You steeled yourself, making the decision to alert him to your presence subtly. You tilted your head upwards, releasing a similar sounding whimper to his. Immediately the werewolf across from you was on high alert, his head snapping towards you and his lips pulling back into a snarl as his ears lowered. You took an instinctive step back, lowering your head slowly. He seemed puzzled by your behavior, which made sense seeing as Lupin told you he never interacted with any other animals during the full moon. His head tilted inquisitively and he took a heavy step forward. You forced yourself to not back away, testing the waters. His eyes narrowed again as he saw you standing your ground, but you quickly sat down, your head tilting to expose your neck slightly. You made doubly sure not to show any signs of aggression; you knew you had no chance against a werewolf at full strength.
However, he seemed to take your queues well. His tail seemed to relax a bit, his eyes returning to their full, round shape as he looked at you with curiosity. You sniffed up at him and he hesitated, but eventually circled around you and did the same. You could almost see the turmoil in him, as a werewolf you doubted anyone he came across treated him with anything less than terror in their eyes, but you were completely relaxed.
He whimpered again, and you were shocked at the sign of submission. You rose to your feet, and he didn't back away. You let out a friendly yip, which he returned, and you felt the weight lift off your chest. You leaped to the side, and he followed you, running alongside you as you bounded across the room, practically leaping off the walls. You jumped at each other playfully, rolling across the floor in a mess of fur. You smiled inwardly as this continued throughout the night, no longer seeing fear or pain or aggression in his eyes when you looked into them. Even if he wouldn't remember most of this, you hoped he would at least feel better in the morning than all the times he had to go through it alone.
Exhausted from all the playing around, you padded softly back to your robes, crawling inside yours and and gesturing over to him with your head. He followed you, coming down to all fours before laying beside you. You weren't sure when sleep came over you, but it was like the world's most comfortable blanket had been thrown over your shoulders, and your eyes drifted closed of their own volition. . .
“Merlin's beard, just what were you two doing last night?!”
You and Remus both jolted awake at the sound of James Potter's aggravatingly loud voice but quickly came to your senses. Remus' arms were wrapped around you, your back facing him. You were just barely covered by your robes with nothing underneath as a result of your transformation. As you scrambled to get decent your face heated even more as you saw Remus was currently without a shirt, his pants ripped considerably. You scrambled away from each other, trying to make yourselves decent.
Peter was howling with laughter, James looking smug as ever. Sirius was oddly quiet, but you were too wrapped up in the embarrassment to notice his behavior.
“What was that about being 'endlessly thoughtful'?” you grumbled to Remus.
“Right, I completely take back what I said,” he scoffed, “ 'insufferable jerk' is much more accurate.”
“Close your eyes, you perverted git!” you yelled at James, who was blatantly staring at you, “toss me my clothes at least, would you?”
James bit back a smirk as he grabbed your bag that was sitting in the corner of the room— clothes you had brought with the intention of changing into after returning to your human form when Lupin fell asleep. He tossed it over to you and you began to change under your robes. As his back was turned to you his mind began to wander. You'd always been attractive, sure, but since you'd always been his rival he hadn't really given you a second thought, especially when he'd been trying to get Lily's attention for ages. But just now, thinking about how downright adorable you looked when you'd yelled at him, something in him shifted. He shook it off quickly, turning to Lupin with a grin he'd managed to put on concernedly fast.
“You cheeky bastard,” he said to Remus, who was furiously changing into a new shirt, “you just wanted her alone, didn't you? Do you really need us to become animagi after all?”
“You're the worst, Potter,” the werewolf glared at him.
“Don't listen to him, Remus,” you grumbled, straightening out your tie as you slipped it on over your shirt, “he's an even bigger idiot than he looks.”
It had taken months of brewing the potion and getting all the necessary preparations in order, but they were finally ready. Remus sat with you in the grass, wand at the ready to undo any untoward transfiguration that happened on accident. Peter, Sirius, and James stood across from you, standing at the edge of a stone ledge about five feet off the ground. You'd said that a leap of faith is what would best trigger their first transformation. They looked nervous, but they were prepared as they'd ever be. Over the last year you had grown considerably closer to the four boys you had miraculously come to know as friends.
“Remember, focus on your emotions,” you said, “you need to pick a strong one, let it fill your body and flow through you. If you block the magic off from any part of your body, it's not going to be pretty.”
“Right, but how do I—”
“James, I swear, I'm really rooting for you to be a mute animal.”
“But how do you choose-”
“Just do it already!”
“Oh, sod it,” James squeezed his eyes shut, not giving himself time to second guess before jumping off the ledge. For a moment he was certain he was about to land face first in the dirt, but then it happened— a moment where time seemed to freeze and his body felt completely weightless. He felt this sensation where his arms and legs vibrated with an intense, foreign energy. Images flashed through his mind in that brief moment in the air; Sirius manically laughing as they ran away from Filch, Remus snapping off a piece of chocolate to offer him after he'd lost Gryffindor a Quidditch match, and, unexpectedly, you. A feeling of warmth spread through his chest, and he grasped onto it, letting it flow through his body like you said. In an instant he felt torso shift, his shoulders narrow, his neck elongate; and when he landed on the ground he still landed face-first as he predicted, but in a completely different form.
He could see you and Lupin in front of him, mouths agape. He was about to say something when he found his vocal chords only allowed him a gruff whine. Shocked, he lifted his head, which felt much heavier than he'd last recalled, and as he looked down at himself he was taken aback to be met with a pair of hooves right beneath him. He staggered to his feet on wobbly legs, of which he now had four. As he tilted his head he could see the shadow of a pair of antlers twisting into brilliant shadows on the grass.
“Potter, you did it!” you exclaimed, “you actually did it!”
“Well how about that,” Remus chuckled, “a stag.”
“It fits him, I think,” you grinned, looking over at Sirius and Peter who looked determined and terrified respectively. “Well go on, it's your turn now!”
Sirius braced himself for the jump, but somehow he found no fear in his system. After seeing James shift in the air right before his eyes, he knew he could do it. He looked over at Peter who was nearly shaking.
“Come on, Peter,” he said, “we'll go together.”
“I-I don't know about this, Sirius,” Peter said, “I'm not ready, I don't think I can do this.”
“It's just a little jump,” Sirius said encouragingly, “you can do this.”
After a few nerve wracking deep breaths Peter gave him the smallest nod one could manage.
“We'll go on three,” Sirius said, “Ready? One—”
“AaHH!”
Sirius shoved Peter off the ledge, knowing he wouldn't jump on his own, before taking the plunge himself. Peter's screams became higher and higher pitched as he shrank at an alarming speed, almost an undetectable size by the time he hit the grass. A small brown rat scurried across the field towards you and Lupin.
The stag in front of you made a sound, dragging his hooves across the grass in what you could imagine as James' unadulterated laughter at his friend.
Sirius began to morph almost as soon as he left the ground, something you were surprised by. He landed on his hind legs, landing gracefully as his front two followed, and a shaggy black dog looked back at you with mischief in its eyes.
You couldn't help but go over and pet him. You laughed as he nudged you with his nose, a resistance that was quickly halted as soon as you started scratching him behind the ears.
“I have to say, I didn't think you would actually manage that on your first try,” you said, secretly prouder than they could have known, “but if anyone could have done it, it's you three stubborn goons.”
James huffed as he saw you continue to pet Sirius, using his antlers to prod the dog out of the way. Sirius barked, lunging at him playfully. It was quite a scene to see the two interact.
“Honestly, this is a pretty solid group,” you said, “you've got James who blends perfectly with the surrounding wildlife so he wouldn't be suspicions, Sirius who could probably do a fair bit of damage as a dog if he needed, and Peter who can fit through small spaces and snoop around the castle virtually undetected.”
“Quite an odd pack,” Remus chuckled.
“Definitely,” you agreed, “but a pack nonetheless.”
And that very week, Remus Lupin was able to spend his first night as a werewolf with his four friends by his side.
“So, how did we choose which animals we turn into?” James had asked you the next day at breakfast, “I specifically tried for a dragon.”
“You don't get to choose,” you rolled your eyes, “You're a stag, that's the end of it. It's pretty much up to chance.”
“I'm sorry, you're telling me I could have turned into a fish and died right there on the ground?!”
“If only,” you sighed dreamily, earning you a playful shove from James. “Alright, it's not completely random, but you're definitely in the unknown the first time you turn,” you went on to explain, “and once you turn for the first time, that's it. That's your animal. A wizard takes on the animagus form of whatever animal most closely resembles their personality. So, a horny bastard for James, a loyal little puppy for Sirius—”
“A bitch for you,” Sirius quipped.
“Never heard that one before,” you scoffed, purposefully messing up his hair.
“Hey, watch it!” he shoved you off him, twisting each of his curls back into form.
“Well, look who's a high maintenance pup,” you chuckled.
Around the same time that year, you finally completed the map. It came together beautifully, each different way of folding the paper revealing a different level of the castle for easy navigation. You'd included the surrounding forests as well as the parts of Hogsmeade that applied for the secret passageways, all of which were marked with symbols and the unique names you'd all come up with. Every student and staff member at Hogwarts had a tiny scroll with their name that appeared in their location. Remus had added the nice detail of including footprints at the last second, so you could see which way they were facing and walking as well. It was fireproof, rip proof, and prone to insulting anyone else who tried to read it. It was the pinnacle of your magical (and slightly illegal) achievement.
“We should write our names on it,” James said, looking down proudly at the finished map, “it belongs to us, after all. We don't want anyone else taking the credit.”
“Yeah, fantastic way to get caught,” Sirius rolled his eyes, “what if Filch comes across it? That's like leaving your signature at a murder scene.”
“You should use code names, then,” you suggested, “I know you guys call Remus 'Moony' as a joke, but I kind of like it.”
The scarred boy blushed lightly at the compliment, a brow raised to his other three friends.
“Alright then, I guess you should all say hi to Rudolph over here,” Sirius said, jutting his thumb in James' direction. The bespectacled boy narrowed his eyes before shooting back.
“Right! And this is my good friend, Snuffles.”
Sirius lunged at him and James swatted him away in laughter.
“Come on, you two,” Remus said, “or we won't put anything down for you at all.”
“I've got an idea for Peter,” you piped in, “When my mom used to garden she said she didn't mind having rats there because their tails resembled worms, which were an old a sign of healthy soil, I know it's odd, but I think Wormtail sounds pretty cool.”
Peter seemed to perk up at your acknowledgment and nodded. It suited him somehow.
“Should we pick animal features too, then?” James mused, “I guess Antlers doesn't really sound that cool. What's another word? Horns? Give me some analogies, guys. What else do they look like?”
“Yours honestly kind of look like a couple of bent forks,” you snickered.
“Prongs?” Sirius snorted, the laughter that followed nearly splitting his sides.
“Oh, go on, what have you got then?” James scoffed.
“I was thinking Padfoot,” Sirius said, “like a dog's paw prints.”
“You know, for someone who was just making fun of code names a second ago you sure have given a lot of thought to yours,” you teased.
“Shove it,” he smirked, “What about you? Can't very well have a second Moony.”
You stared at him in momentary disbelief.
“Me?”
“Well, yeah,” Sirius chuckled.
“We couldn't have done any of this without you,” Remus reminded you with a smile.
“I think you've more than earned an honorary title as one of us,” James said.
“That is, if you want to,” Peter said timidly.
You looked at the four of them, genuinely touched.
“I. . . I don't know what to say,” you smiled.
“You could say 'yes',” James piped up.
“Alright, you loons,” you laughed, “if you leave Severus alone for good, then yes.”
“Hey, I think we've been pretty good about that lately,” James pouted.
“Yes you have,” you admitted, “It's the only reason I bothered to give you the time of day, but this time it's a promise.”
James rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face was undeniable. He'd never admit it out loud, but being friends with you was more fun than messing with Snape ever was.
“Alright, fine. (Y/n) (L/n), I solemnly swear that I will leave tormenting our dear old friend Snivelus behind us forever,” he said dramatically, putting a hand up at his pledge.
“Oh, bother,” you laughed, “the only thing you'll 'solemnly swear' to is that you're up to no good.”
“I'll take that as a compliment.”
“Then that's settled,” Remus smiled, “you'll need a code name too.”
“Let's see,” Sirius hummed in thought, “What other defining features do wolves have besides. . . well, their. . . fangs?”
“They're canines, you numbnut,” you huffed.
“Close enough, I'm writing Fangs.”
“Oi, I didn't agree to that!”
“Too bad, I'm already writing it~”
“Okay, well if that's the stupid name I'm getting saddled with them I'm going to write it myself,” you said stubbornly. You actually didn't mind the name at all.
“Well that's it, then,” James said, “Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs, and Fangs. We could join the bloody circus.”
“All we need is a group name,” you said, half joking.
“We've already got one,” James said proudly.
“Oh? Let's hear it, then.”
“The Marauders.”
“. . .”
You kept your face straight for exactly three seconds before you burst out laughing. The four boys flushed with embarrassment.
“The Marauders?” you chortled, “what are you, pirates?”
“It's what McGonnagall called us the first time we got ourselves into proper trouble,” James defended himself, his cheeks reddening, “You rowdy mob of marauders, she'd said.”
“Huh,” you chuckled, coming down from your laughing fit, “Well, then I suppose that would make this The Marauders Map. I'll admit, it actually kinda has a ring to it.”
And despite your group's joking quips and bickering, they couldn't agree more.
“Wait,” Harry said, eyes wide at your story, “So, my dad was an animagus too?”
“Sure was,” you smiled warmly.
“This whole time I thought 'Prongs' was just because his patronus was a stag.”
“Your animagus form is usually the same animal as your patronus,” you explained, “In some very rare cases they can be different, but they work in the same emotionally driven vein of magical ability, so it would make sense that they'd be linked. Your father was extraordinary at both, because as much as he would deny it, he felt everything very deeply.”
Your eyes drifted to the wall opposite you in the living room, and a small but sad smile graced your features.
“Love is often the most powerful emotion a witch or wizard can draw from,” you said softly, “but you already know that.”
Harry followed your gaze over his shoulder. There, posted on the wall among a collage of photographs from the Order was a picture of his mother and father. It was one he'd seen a hundred times, and one he had his own copy of: them in each others' arms in a London park, autumn leaves swirling around them as they danced without any music. Even from this distance he could see the emotion in their eyes as they looked at one another— like they were the only two people in the world.
“Yeah,” Harry said, wiping a stray tear from his eyes, “I do.”
.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 5
Harry confronts you with a familiar piece of suspiciously folded parchment, and you tell him the story of how you helped create it (mostly told through flashbacks taking place in the Marauders era).
Your eyes drifted open slowly, the bright streams of sunlight coming in through your window strangely unbecoming of 12 Grimmauld Place. It took you a moment to get your bearings as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and remembered where you were. As you sat there, looking around Sirius' guest bedroom, last night's events all seemed to flood back to you at once. You groaned into the comforter, feeling your face burn as you recalled blatantly staring at his lips just minutes after crying into his shirt for at least half an hour.
Come on, get it together, you thought to yourself, you're here because Dumbledore summoned you, stay on task.
However, as soon as that memory left your head another replaced it, this one weighing heavier on your chest. You found yourself thinking back to your encounter with Severus. Well, as much as you could call it an 'encounter.' Even when you couldn't see him, you could feel him when you reached out to him with your mind. Severus was good at blocking legillemency— too good, in fact, because you would know the familiar force of his mental shield anywhere. You'd never felt it as powerful coming from anyone else. You almost laughed at the irony of it; the very thing he was trying to use to keep hidden was exactly what had given him away. That, and the smell of him, which took you back to the moment you'd first smelled that damn amortentia potion. . .
You tried to shake off the thought as you properly got out of bed and changed into some casual clothes. The next Order meeting wasn't until tomorrow afternoon, so you had the day mostly to yourself, but you knew the next time you were all in a room together you would have to address some things privately if you had any hope of working together efficiently. You gently padded down the wooden stairs, the door to Sirius' room still closed. He never was an early riser.
As you reached the kitchen you began to put a pot of coffee on when you heard someone approach the room, stalling in the kitchen entrance. You turned around to see Harry in the doorway.
“Morning,” you grinned, turning back to the counter and using your wand to bring some water to a boil, “Coffee? Tea?”
“Oh,” Harry said, a bit embarrassed you'd caught him in mid-thought, “no, I'm okay.”
“What's on your mind?” you asked.
“Um, I was wondering if you could tell me, I mean, if you have the time. . .” he trailed off, reaching for his back pocket, “well, the thing is, a few years ago I found—”
“Kreacher heard sounds coming from the kitchen and did not expect (Y/n)'s return,” Harry jumped at the house elf's sudden arrival, but you seemed unphased.
“Though master's half mudblood godson remains here,” the elf muttered to himself, “How many more days must it be?”
“Hello, Kreacher,” you greeted him, “nothing nasty about Harry, now, alright? Don't forget he's my godson too.”
“Of course,” Kreacher said, thickly sarcastic but with respect for you in his tone nonetheless. His permanent frown seemed to deepen, however, when he saw you next to the coffee maker. “(Y/n) of house (L/n) should not have to be using the kitchen. Mistress Black would have wept to see a pureblood use muggle equipment. If (Y/n) requires refreshment Kreacher will have it ready.”
“There's no need for that,” you said, “Besides, it's done already, see? You can go on now.”
Kreacher squinted at the cup you poured for yourself. “Always peculiar,” he grumbled, stalking away at your request and muttering to himself all the while.
“He's oddly. . . nice to you,” Harry said, green eyes quizzical behind his round-framed glasses.
“He is,” you chuckled.
“But, well, you're—”
“A blood traitor?” you gave him an easy smile when you saw his expression, easing his fears that he'd actually offended you. “I know,” you said, “he's been through a lot, it's complicated. Trust me, he wasn't always like this to me. It takes time. And it doesn't hurt to be nice to him either.”
Harry decided against bringing up that the nicest person that he knew to the house elf was Hermione, who Kreacher regularly called a 'mudblood wench,' but decided to focus on the 'taking time' part of your statement, wondering just how long this kind of progress took with the spiteful elf. Besides, you seemed to have some sort of history with him.
“Anyways, what was it you were saying?” you asked Harry.
“Oh, right,” he said, reaching back around him, “um, my friends Fred and George, you've met them?”
“Molly and Arthur's twins, of course,” you smiled, “little imps, they are. Those two could give your father and Sirius a run for their money.”
“Right!” Harry said, “well, that's sort of the point. They're the ones who gave me this.”
As you turned around to face him you stalled mid-stir, nearly dropping your mug as you did. Even as a piece of blank parchment you knew what it was, the distinctive accordion folds that met in the center giving it away.
“How in the world. . .” you trailed off as Harry handed it to you, “but Filch—”
“Didn't do a very good job of hiding it, apparently,” Harry finished, “I thought you might want to do the honors?”
You nodded wordlessly, a pang of unexpected emotion hitting you as you pressed your wand to the map's center.
“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”
The faded, brown ink showed itself as its protection charm was washed away, revealing the nostalgia-inducing inscription scrawled in your respective handwritings:
Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs, and Fangs are proud to present: The Marauders Map
“Do Remus and Sirius know you have this?” you asked Harry, who nodded.
“Professor Lupin gave it back to me third year before he left Hogwarts,” he said, “but he never told me anything about it after that.” he seemed deep in thought for a moment before looking up at you. “If everyone else is who I think it is, you're Fangs, right?”
It was your turn to nod now.
“I always wondered, how did you do it?” Harry said, hardly containing his curiosity, and you couldn't help but think how much he looked like James in that moment. “How does it work? What sort of magic did you use? All the secret passageways, how did you find them?”
“Alright, slow down,” you laughed lightly, giving in, “I suppose there's no harm in telling you.”
Harry brightened at that, bounding into the living room and taking a seat on the couch as if to say 'we've got all day,' which you did. It warmed your heart to see him so excited, this was one of the only ways he could get to know his parents— through the stories that remained from the people who loved them. If you could help the picture of his family in his mind become a bit clearer, you would tell him any story he wanted to know. He deserved that much after everything he'd been through.
You took a seat opposite him, still nursing your cup of coffee.
“Well,” you said, “it's a long story, starting with how bad those lot were at keeping secrets. . .”
“Run!” James half shouted half laughed as Filch hobbled after the four of them. Sirius nearly bit his tongue trying to keep in his laughter as the Caretaker slung insults and promises of punishment their way, cat ears and a tail freshly sprouted from his body.
“I can't believe we actually did that,” Sirius cackled, keeping easy pace with James.
“I can't believe you dragged me into this,” Remus panted, his current body not lending itself well to physical activity. For once he actually wished he was a werewolf right about now.
“I don't know if I can keep up,” Peter wheezed, falling behind.
“Oh come on,” James said, grabbing his sleeve and helping him run, “we can out run a gummy-legged old prat like him.”
“I don't know, he's faster than he looks,” Remus pointed out as Filch rounded the corner behind them.
“Damn,” James cursed under his breath, “we'll lose him if we can make it to the one-eyed-witch passageway.”
“We'll never activate it in time,” Remus countered.
“The hallway behind the third floor tapestry?” Peter suggested.
“No, Filch knows about that one now,” Sirius said.
“Why the hell didn't you bring your cloak?” Remus huffed.
“Well getting caught wasn't supposed to be part of the plan, but someone had to let out a laugh before we could get out!”
“Just save your air and sprint!” Sirius hissed.
The extended run time was starting to catch up to all of them now, and when they'd made a wrong turn to a blocked off corridor they thought they were done for.
“Hey, morons, over here!”
Four heads snapped towards the sound of your whisper, but you were nowhere to be found. Suddenly, one of the light pillars began to shift, revealing a large crack in the wall just big enough for them to fit sideways.
No questions were asked with no time to waste, and the four boys clamored after one another so they could fit inside. Your magic moved the pillar back in place just in time, and you watched from your hiding spot as Filch reached the walled-off passage in surprise, grumbling as he looked around for the culprits behind you. You had to stifle a snicker as his cat ears lowered; was that growling coming from the back of this throat or did you imagine that? Eventually he stumbled off in frustration and you sighed.
“Alright, the coast is clear,” you said.
“Why did you help us?” James rose a brow, that signature shit-eating grin back on his face like it never left, “you haven't fallen in love with me since our truce, have you?”
“Dream on, Potter,” you rolled your eyes, pushing him out of the crevice and smirking as he tumbled to the floor.
“It seems like I'm always saving you nowadays,” you said, stepping out of the wall yourself with the rest of the boys following.
Remus was thoroughly confused, looking pointedly between you and Sirius. He knew you and James were pretty much friends now, but he also noticed that the hostile air that always seemed to be present with you and the elder Black had diminished. He'd even seen you two talking in the halls lately. Sirius gave him a look; he would explain what happened in the forest with Lucius to Remus later. Mostly he didn't want to admit that Remus was right about you not being so bad if he gave you a chance; you had actually been getting on pretty well since that night.
“You do realize it's no fun winning the house cup when you four practically make Gryffindor ineligible every year with all the shit you get up to, right?” you chuckled, “some competition would be nice for a change.”
“We'll see if you're singing the same tune when Quidditch season rolls around,” James said smugly.
“You're right,” you said, squaring up against him, “guess that's a new competition we've got going for us.”
It had recently been announced that you and James had both been selected to play Seeker for your respective houses next year. It was an arrangement that had the whole school talking, your rivalry turned (mostly) friendship now infamous, even if it was a recent occurrence.
“Hold on, how did you know that was there?” Peter asked you, pointing to the moving column, “even we didn't know about it.”
“Oh?” you crossed your arms, “and are you four supposedly some kind of all-knowing secret masters? Because clearly there's things you don't know about yet.”
Sirius slapped a hand over Peter's mouth before he could retaliate and give away what they've been working on.
“Yes, well, apparently,” he said, ignoring Peter's muffled protests.
You looked at them curiously, all four boys looking suspiciously nervous.
The next day at breakfast, James had brought up the idea of 'hiring' you to help them finish the map.
“I'm telling you, I think we can really make progress with their help,” he pitched, “they clearly know what they're talking about, and we know they can pull a hell of a prank from all the times they've gotten me.”
“How do we know they won't tell anyone?” Peter countered, “I don't know what's up with you, but you're trusting them too fast, James.”
“They're not the type that would tell,” Remus admitted.
“Oh, not you too!” Peter whined.
“I'm just saying, they'll likely appreciate what we've gathered so far and have a fair bit to add,” Lupin insisted, “it could be worth a try if you really want to finish it before we graduate—”
“Finish what?”
The four boys jolted upright, turning to see you and Lily.
“Are you guys okay?” Lily asked, concern written across her features.
“Of course!”
“Never better!”
“Why wouldn't we be?”
Remus just groaned at his friends' panicked answers. This was hopeless.
You and Lily shared a knowing look off the the side.
“Wow, I mean, I know you said they were bad, but that bad?”
“For being expert pranksters who hardly ever managed to get caught, they were remarkably terrible at hiding things,” you said, chuckling along with him, “It didn't take us long to figure out they were up to something, although they seemed to think they were brilliant at covering it up, Remus had to burst their bubble eventually.”
Harry shook his head, smiling fondly and imagining all the scenes in his head as you continued your tale.
“So that was when they were first starting to put the map together,” you continued, “but that wasn't even the biggest secret they were hiding. Of course, I wouldn't find out about that for another year, but we'll get to that part of the story later. . .”
“This tastes awful,” Sirius complained, trying to ignore the plant prodding the under-side of his tongue.
“Well if you were expecting treacle toffee I'm sorry to disappoint,” James rolled his eyes, equally nauseated by the bitter tinge of the Mandrake leaf in his mouth.
“There's no way someone can do this for an entire month,” Peter said, “How do you brush your teeth? What if you accidentally swallow it when you're eating?”
“You three have fun with that,” Remus chuckled, flipping through an old library book and his mouth gratefully leafless.
“How about some gratitude, Moony?” James said, “We're doing this for you.”
“Please, you just want to see if you can turn into a dragon or something,” Lupin chortled, “and you don't actually have to go through with all this. Who knows if this animagus stuff will actually work.”
“Well, a dragon would suit me,” James mused, “but of course we're going to see this through, mate. You know we'd do anything for you.”
Remus smiled to himself, not responding and not needing to. He knew.
“Hey guys,” you grinned, walking up to the Gryffindor table.
Peter gulped suddenly in surprise as you came up behind him, and his eyes widened in horror.
“Shit!” he coughed out, “I-I swallowed it!”
“Your. . . food?” you questioned, glancing over at the boys who all had that same, vaguely panicked look about them.
“Okay, it was funny at first, but you guys have been acting weird since last year and now it's worrying,” you admitted.
The four looked between themselves and came to a sort of silent conclusion. Maybe in this scenario it was better to tell one secret to keep the other. And so, later that night, they told you to meet them after lights out so they could tell you what was really going on. You snuck out of your dorm room and made your way through the secret tunnel to the Gryffindor common room, a route you'd taken plenty of times to mess with James.
You pushed a loose panel of wood open, coming into the warmly lit space through one of the cabinets. You pushed an armchair that was half blocking your path out of the way as you crawled through the space.
“Blimey!” Sirius jumped, “give us a heads up, would you?”
“Sush,” Remus scolded him, “you really don't understand the concept of an inside voice, do you?”
“Alright, well I'm here,” you said, brushing off your robes, “now what's this big secret? This better not be a trick because I've been working on a new hex.”
“Nothing like that,” James assured you, “we've been working on something we think you might be interested in, if you're willing to contribute.”
He stepped to the side so you could see the floor where they'd been huddled around and your eyes widened.
“Merlin,” you said. The red and gold carpet was covered in at least forty different pieces of parchment. Pages upon pages overlapped with each other, each messily detailing a different part and level of the castle in scribbles of smudged ink. “This is. . .”
“The entirety of the Hogwarts castle and surrounding land,” Sirius said proudly, “complete with secret passageways.”
“This is our lives' work, (Y/n),” James said, “be impressed!”
“What impresses me most is how none of you have any sense of scale,” you said, sifting through the papers, “you should really condense this. Kind of hard to make any use of a map if you have to flip to page thirty-three to find the kitchens.”
“Point taken,” Remus said, “it could do with some reorganization.”
“And probably a bigger piece of paper,” you mentioned.
“Right, that. . .”
“That's not all there is to it, though,” Peter said, “Sirius?”
The curly haired boy stepped forward, pressing his wand to the center of the floor.
“Revelare Popularis,”
You watched in wonder as hundreds of names suddenly appeared across the pieces of paper, all students and faculty you recognized. They were scrawled in Sirius' handwriting, as if he'd written them himself.
“This spell shows where everyone in any location on this map is at this very moment,” he said, “It's not exact, and we've been working on variations.”
“So you can plan ahead without getting caught,” you mused, “how'd you learn something as advanced as this, Black?”
“I get around,” Sirius shrugged, unabashedly showing off. Peter rolled his eyes.
“So, the only drawback, of course, is that the spell doesn't work in real time,” Remus said, “so by the time you get where you need to go. . .”
“People will have moved,” James finished, “we're willing to share this little trove of knowledge with you if you're willing to give up all the secret rooms, passages, and hiding places you know.”
“And we thought you may have a solution to our timing problem,” Remus said, “I could tell from our study sessions you quite enjoy learning ahead of your year.”
Your eyes scanned the pages, and you were admittedly impressed. There was ton of stuff on here you had no idea about, but you knew a fair amount was missing as well. It seemed like a fair trade.
“I'm in,” you said.
“What?” Peter blinked, “it was that easy?”
“This is a useful tool you've got,” you said, “I think we can all benefit from it being improved. And now that you mention it, I actually do think I've read about a similar spell to that paper charm. It was in some Gaelic tome in the restricted section on ancient magic. I'm not even sure it used a wand. It was called the Homunculus charm. From what I read it sounded like it acted as a live feed for people in any given location, clan leaders used it to plan ambushes and keep track of citizens. If we could link it to the entire castle. . .”
“We'd be able to see where everyone is—”
“And what they're doing—”
“—At every hour of every day!”
“True, albeit a bit stalkerish,” you quipped, “you let me in on this if I add in what I know, and you got yourself a deal.”
James put out his hand, and as tempted as you were to turn it green or make all the bones in it disappear, you reached out and shook it.
“I do believe this puts us in a formal alliance, Potter,” you said cheekily.
“I believe so,” James smirked.
“Terrifying,” Remus chuckled, “This school won't even know what hit it.”
“Well, what are we waiting for?” James said with a cheshire grin, “let's steal ourselves a book, shall we?”
Ch 4 .:Budding Feelings and the Beginning of the End:.
Severus Snape had made a lot of mistakes in his life, and seeing you again after all these years was forcing him to relive every single one of them.
He stared blankly at the wall in front of him, shrouded in the darkness and grim silence of his empty house. He never thought he'd see you again, and certainly not under these circumstances. When he'd laid his eyes on you in the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld place he couldn't believe it. He, much like the rest of the Order (except for Molly, apparently) assumed you wouldn't be at these meetings any longer. After James and Lily were murdered and Sirius was thrown into Azkaban, you'd left London and headed to New York under the Ministry's alliance with MACUSA, hoping to help bridge the gap between muggle-borns and purebloods in America. He knew you had been back to meet Harry a handful of times, but he also knew that being in this city brought up painful memories for you, so he was as stunned as anyone else to see you standing there in the doorway, greeting them as if nothing were out of the ordinary.
He could see that traveling had been good for you. He'd heard through the Hogwarts circuit that you were back on auror duty across the world, taking special assignments from Dumbledore and the Minister for Magic himself. You seemed like you were doing better, but when you turned to smile at him he could see the hesitation and the sadness that brewed behind your eyes, likely his doing.
He desperately wanted things to go back to what they were before—
“Alright students,” Professor Slughorn said as everyone finished filing inside the room, “today we're going to be pairing off into new partners for the upcoming project.”
Groans and nervous chatter flooded the sound space immediately, no one very thrilled with having to work with someone new out of their control. You cast a glance over to Lily who looked equally displeased. You liked being her partner, you both excelled at the subject and worked really well together.
“Yes, yes, I know,” Slughorn said, waving the complaints off, “However, I am going to be giving you the luxury of choosing your own partners this time, but everyone—”
The energy in the room instantly shifted, everyone shoving around people to get to their friends.
“—keep in mind, if I see any slacking off or trouble brewing in these new partnerships I will not hesitate to rearrange them!”
Slughorns's words were completely lost among the commotion as people paired off before you could even get your bearings. Snape stalled as he stared at you from across the room; Lily had already been dragged away by Mary, and his brain was trying to work out how to ask you to be his partner.
Suddenly an arm was slung over your shoulder and you turned towards the new presence in surprise. You looked up to see Evan Rosier, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows and his Slytherin tie loose around his neck.
Oh, sod it, Snape cursed internally. He was too late.
“Wanna partner up?” Rosier asked, a crooked grin gracing his chiseled features, “It'd be my honor to have the smartest Potions partner in class, not to mention the most attractive.”
You rolled your eyes at the praise. Evan was your friend, and he was nice to look at, but if he thought that you would be willing to do all the work for the both of you in exchange for some cheap compliments, then he had another thing coming. You locked eyes with Snape from across the room
“It would be your honor,” you smirked up at Rosier, “but I already have a partner, sorry.”
It took Snape a few seconds to realize what you were doing, but once he snapped out of it he made his way towards you. You almost chuckled at how robotic he looked as he did, clearly shocked.
Rosier looked between the two of you and rolled his eyes.
“Suit yourself, sweetheart,” he said, letting you go and pushing you lightly in Snape's direction, “but if you change your mind, you know where to find me.” He sent a wink your way that left Snape's blood inexplicably boiling,
“Thanks for that,” you grinned, “and just so you know, I would have chosen you even if he didn't come up to me, so don't get all pouty about it, okay?”
Severus just looked at you blankly. Even after four years it was frightening how well you were able to read him; for a moment he was scared that he'd accidentally projected his thoughts to you, but he wasn't anywhere near that level of legillemency yet. He wanted to say something that had some semblance of gratitude but settled on:
“Whatever.”
To which you just laughed and dragged him to your now shared desk.
You really were something else.
“Now then,” Professor Slughorn addressed the room, “today we will be beginning the new unit on toxic concoctions, starting with the Draught of Living Death. If you would all turn to page ten of your books, we will get started presently.”
You turned open your book and Severus did the same. As he did, you noticed that nearly every page was covered in small notes littering the margins, with some of the instructions circled, crossed out, or modified. You were hardly surprised, Snape had been pouring over this book since last year when he'd stolen it from a fifth year Slytherin who'd been speaking poorly of you (that last part you were unaware of).
You turned your attention to the directions, reaching over to preheat the burner so your cauldron would be hot enough by the time you began. However, as soon as you lit the flame with the tip of your wand, your cauldron shot up into the air, hitting the ceiling with a loud BANG! before crashing down back onto your table, breaking several of the glass instruments that were settled there.
Your face burned embarrassment as everyone in the room turned to look at you in shock.
“I. . .” you began, not knowing what to say, “I don't know, I'm sorry, Professor.”
“Quite all right,” he said uncertainly, restoring your table and equipment with a wave of his wand, “just be sure whatever that was doesn't happen again.”
“Of course,” you mumbled, trying to ignore the snickering around you. If you noticed the way that it stopped as soon as Snape sent a deathly glare at the culprits, you didn't show it. You reached down to grab your cauldron, noticing that the bottom was dusted in some sort of orange powder. As you turned it over, a note fell out of it.
You're welcome, (L/n). Sorry I couldn't be there for the fireworks~
J.P.
“That sneaky little, ugh,” you crumpled the note, growling in frustration.
“What is it?” Severus asked, peering over your shoulder to glance at the paper. However, as soon as you tried to show it to him it vanished in your hands in a wisp of glowing embers. You turned to look at Severus who was still staring at you expectantly.
“It was Potter,” you rolled your eyes.
Anger flashed in Severus' eyes before confusion replaced it momentarily.
“But that was your cauldron, not mine. Why would Potter want to mess with you?”
And now the anger was back again. Snape was used to Potter’s crew targeting him; bullying and suffering through minor hexes had become an everyday occurrence, but when he imagined them doing anything to you it was enough to make him see red.
“Ah, well. . .” you trailed off, deciding that telling him you'd yelled at the group of Gryffindors: 'if you jerks want to have a go at Severus you're gonna have to get through me first!' was a bad idea.
“I sort of, maybe, kind of. . . started it?” you said. Severus raised a brow at you. “Look, Potter was asking for it, okay? It was about time someone messed with him for a change. And besides, it was hilarious, even Lily got a kick out of watching that broom hit him in the head.”
Severus chuckled at that, a hint of pride welling in his chest at yours and Lily's shared distaste for the Potter boy.
“But that was the last straw,” you declared, grabbing a Sopophorus bean from the bowl in front of you and a knife to cut it as per the instructions, “I'm sick and tired of him acting like he's better than everyone else,” you said, stabbing down with your knife for emphasis. The Sopophorus bean jumped as you did, sliding out from under your blade and skidding across your cutting board. You huffed as you grabbed it again, placing it back down and holding it in place. “And he walks around with that little posse of his like he runs this school!” You brought your knife down again, moving your fingers at the last second, but the bean still managed to slip away, trying to bounce back into the bowl.
“This means war!” you seethed, grabbing the runaway legume again, now at your wit's end, and crushing it in your fist. It stopped jumping as the beet-red juice of the plant dripped down your arm, and Severus looked at you with a small smirk on his face.
“Well, that's one way to do it,” he said.
“Shove off,” you said playfully, throwing the bean in his direction. He dodged it easily, his smile growing.
“No, really,” he said, almost more to himself than you as he scribbled out the word 'cut' and replaced it with 'crush' in his notebook, “you might be better at this than you let on.”
You blushed at the unexpected compliment, backhanded as it was.
“Excuse you, I happen to be fantastic at Potions,” you said, grabbing another bean and avoiding his gaze.
“Right, that's why your cauldron exploded.”
“That was sabotage,” you shot back.
“I was talking about last week,” Severus said cheekily, taking in your flustered expression.
You both went back to your ingredients, eventually discovering that crushing the beans with the flat of a knife was the best way to extract the juice without them jumping. You watched Severus out of the corner of your eye as he measured out the African Sea water, adding it gradually as he stirred the mixture counter-clockwise. The elixir turned a bright blue color, shimmering as if light were being reflected off of it. He continued on with the formula, snapping off a few fluxweed sprigs before adding them and lowering the heat with his wand, hardly looking at the instructions at all.
You wondered where this newfound confidence had come from. Severus was usually so rigid and withdrawn, but right now he looked more at ease than you had ever seen him. A spark was present in his eyes as he worked that you rarely ever saw, and it made you smile despite yourself.
The rest of your potion making process went on without a hitch, and you silently applauded yourself as you watched the other students around you struggle to get their concoctions together. Even Lily seemed to be having trouble, though Mary wasn't really helping other than offering moral support.
You turned back to focus on your own potion, stirring it with the ladle and mesmerized by the way it began to turn a deep plum color. Meanwhile, Severus was cleaning up your shared station, looking over at the brew. His brows furrowed as he examined it.
“Just stir it a bit more,” he said, coming up behind you and placing his hand on top of yours, “the color is still off.”
Your face burned at the unexpected contact; Snape certainly wasn't a touchy person, so the act caught you completely off guard, though you'd be lying if you said you didn't like it. Severus nearly jumped backwards, absolutely mortified when he realized what he was doing. It was him micromanaging more than anything; he was so focused on getting the potion right he didn't even notice he was moving his own body as he gave you the instruction.
“Sorry,” he said, feeling quite possibly the lamest he'd ever felt in his life.
“It's okay,” you said, biting the inside of your lip nervously and continuing to stir like he said. Your light response allowed Snape to relax, his shoulders lowering a full three inches. He'd been certain you would have reacted to his mistake with disgust or repulsion, but you didn't. What did that mean? You were utterly confusing. Despite how well you could read him, Severus was unable to get a read on you at all. If he had been, he would have noticed the tiny smile on your face as you stirred, silently wishing his hand were back on yours.
You and Snape stood at attention as Slughorn peered down at your potion, looking mildly impressed. He reached into his robes, procuring an oak leaf from who knows where, and dropped it into your cauldron. The leaf floated on top of the liquid for just a moment before its edges began to burn. It furled from the unseen heat, folding in on itself and disappearing into the inky depths of the liquid. Slughorn's expression lit up, his impression no longer mild.
“Merlin's beard, it's perfect!” he exclaimed, “in all my years I've never seen a pair recreate this potion exactly as you two have done today.”
You beamed at the praise, your smile only widening as you saw your emotions mirrored in Severus' face, albeit more subtly.
Over the course of your fourth year, you and Snape continued to excel in Potions, receiving much praise from Professor Slughorn and a lot of glares from your fellow students. However, there was something else that continued that year, and that was your increasing interactions with James Potter.
“I just don't get why you even bother with him,” Snape had said to you one day while you were in Potions. Your prank war with James was at its peak, and you were sidetracked that day in class coming up with new ideas to get back at him.
“It's a full on battle now, Sev,” you said, “I can't back down! Now, for my next one I was thinking something along the lines of a callback to one of his earlier stunts. Maybe get him back for tampering with my cauldron at the beginning the year.”
“(Y/n)—”
“I've got a few friends in Gryffindor, and apparently he talks about his prank plans way too loudly in the common room, so I have a head start on this one. They mentioned something about my shampoo—“
“(Y/n),” Severus stressed, finally catching your attention. You looked up at him, embarrassed at you rambling. “Why do you keep doing this?” he asked, “he's just baiting you. You know that.”
“It keeps them from doing anything that targets you, right?” you questioned back.
Severus didn't know what to say at that. It was true, ever since you had declared war on James, he and his stupid friends hadn't really bothered with him at all. Were you doing this for him? He didn't know what to do with the thought.
You were, of course, but you thought it better not to mention that in the last few months this had been going on, you'd also begun to find the rivalry and banter between you and James fun.
“Gather 'round students, gather 'round!” Slughorn beckoned the class over, disrupting your train of thought and putting an end to your conversation, “now, would anyone like to identify the potion in this cauldron here?” He gestured to a shockingly pink liquid that seemed to swirl on its own. Plum and periwinkle smoke wafted through the air above it in delicate spirals.
“That's Amortentia,” Lily said, “it's a love potion that's supposed to smell different to everyone depending on what scents attract them.”
“Right you are, Miss Evans,” Slughorn said proudly, “would you like to tell us what you smell?”
“Cinnamon,” she started slowly, “warm spices, butterbeer, sandalwood. . .” her cheeks reddened significantly, as if she'd made some sort of realization. “Th-that's all.” You stared at her quizzically but she just shook her head. You'd have to ask her about this later. . .
“(L/n),” Slughorn said, “would you be so kind as to do the same?”
“Sure,” you said, stepping up to the cauldron. It was captivating, almost drawing you in physically. “Wild lavender,” you said, smiling, your mother had a garden full of them when you were growing up, “rain when it hits the pavement, and old leather books.” Scents you wouldn't realize until much later all correlated with a certain person.
“Very different scents for very different people,” Professor Slughorn said, “thank you for demonstrating, you two. Now, we will not be brewing this potion today for obvious reasons. It is incredibly dangerous, capable of creating not true love, but unhinged obsession. What we will be doing, however, is studying its effects. . .”
“Strongest love potion in the world, huh?” Evan suddenly appeared at your side, “funny, I could have sworn it smelled just like you, although you wouldn't need a potion to reign me in~”
“Put a sock in it, Rosier,” you said, shoving him away playfully.
“Aw, come on, just one date wouldn't hurt,” he said, “I'm pulling out all my best lines here!”
“That's the best you've got?”
“Ouch.”
Snape couldn't help but glare at the Slytherin boy, not liking how close he was to you. Nice as he seemed, Snape knew how he could really be. He didn't think you'd be such good friends with Rosier if you knew he was knee deep in the dark arts as soon as the sun set on the castle. Then again, Severus wasn't one to talk.
Over the course of the year he noticed that you only grew closer to James, something that bothered him immensely. He was grateful that you had gotten his bullying to stop, but he hated that the way you had gone about it was to turn Potter into a friend. . .
“Merlin, he keeps looking over at you, Lils,” you said.
Lily and Severus looked over to where James sat with Sirius, Remus, and Peter in their corner table as usual. Somehow they always managed to be at The Three Broomsticks at the exact same time as your trio, almost as if they knew you were there. James Potter was, in fact, looking towards your table, until your friends not-so-discreetly turned to look at him and he diverted his gaze elsewhere.
“Idiot,” you rolled your eyes as you took another sip of your butterbeer.
Lily looked between you and James' table for a moment before turning back to you.
“Actually, (Y/n), he's staring at you.”
You looked at her like she'd grown a second head but then began to laugh.
“Is he? Jeeze, what a creep,” you said, but with affection in your voice that wasn't missed by Severus, “it's probably because I saved his ass the other day and he's still reeling from it.”
“Oh,” she said, a hint of what you swore was relief in her tone until she realized what you said, “Wait, you what?”
“Sirius and I were talking in the forest and we got ambushed by Malfoy's motley crew,” you said, “and Potter showed up because of course he did. It was just a little duel, no big deal.”
“What?!” Lily said, concern written all over her face, “they fancy the dark arts, (Y/n), you could have been hurt!”
Severus stared into his drink, unable to look at either of you.
“I'm fine, Lils,” you insisted, “and trust me, I don't think Malfoy's going to be bothering anyone anymore. Just show him a picture of a squid and he'll probably screech like a banshee.”
Lily laughed along with you, partially in confusion, until the first part of your statement hit her with a slight delay.
“Hold on, you were in the forest with Black? And did you just call him Sirius?” she asked, her teasing making your face flush.
“We just. . . figured some stuff out. . . It was nothing like what you're thinking, so drop it,” you grumbled, taking another drink to hide your embarrassed face.
“Whatever you say, (Y/n),” Lily sang, taking a sip of her own drink.
Severus felt jealousy bubble up in him like a disease. He cast his gaze upwards, his eyes locking momentarily with James'. His arch rival rose a cocky brow at him, his gaze unmistakably shifting to you and Lily before staring Snape down again. Severus took a sharp breath to steel himself, that feeling in the pit of his stomach never really going away.
.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 3
Continuing the story of how you and Sirius became friends; as James and Remus grow closer to you, Sirius continues to treat you coldly until a late night encounter makes him question everything.
“I'm not going to bother making friends with someone whose family is so wrapped up in blood politics they forget to be human beings first. Trust me, I've met their mother enough times to know.”
“Did you ever ask them about it?” Remus pressed.
“I don't really need to, do I? They're a (L/n). Open your eyes, Moony!”
Remus' brow furrowed, a shine in his eyes akin to sympathy as he regarded Sirius.
“Perhaps it's you that needs to clear your vision, friend.”
Sirius sat on the stone ledge on the window of his dorm room, looking out towards the Black Lake. He could see the push and pull of the wind as the thin branches of the ash trees bowed gently with the rhythm. In the reflection of the glass he could see James and Peter behind him experimenting with an altered set of wizard's chess, complete with fire-breathing knights and bishops that threw daggers, while one of Remus' records spun in the background.
Despite everything he could have been thinking about at the moment, his thoughts, irritatingly enough, drifted to you. He frowned slightly as he leaned his shoulder against the window, annoyed that you occupied even a portion of his mind. He just couldn't understand you. Somehow you had turned James, who had once openly proclaimed you his sworn enemy, into something close to a friend in the span of a year. You had no qualms with pranks pulled on you, yet you were fiercely protective when they were directed at others. You were always smiling, yet your temper took no prisoners. If you weren't a Slytherin you might even be attractive.
The thought made him bolt upright. Where the hell did that come from? He almost laughed. No. Absolutely not. He was Sirius Black, he could get anyone he wanted in this bloody school, and he certainly wasn't going to busy his mind with you. What the hell was wrong with him? It's not like he noticed the way you smiled to yourself when you were reading, or the fact that the sound of your laugh got stuck in his head like a song—
No. Stop it. Get your head straight, they're evil.
Sirius exhaled deeply, rubbing his tired eyes with his hands. For some reason that thought didn't sit right in his brain, and the longer he sat with it he came to a horrifying conclusion:
Maybe Remus was right.
The only time you'd really been nasty to them was when they'd instigated it first, or whenever they had a go at Snivelus, which had become less and less frequent; Sirius suspected because of your tentative friendship with James. He'd always just assumed you were like the other Slytherins he'd come to know. There's been hearsay circulating around you, especially given your family's reputation, but you yourself hadn't really done anything to prove the rumors. Maybe you really weren't like your family at all. Maybe you were like him. . .
Suddenly, he caught movement in the corner of his eye, not from his friend's reflections but from outside the window itself. A figure emerged from the lamplight of the castle gate, making their way towards the edge of the forest. If the green lining of your school robes and (h/c) hair didn't peak his interest, the flash that he saw of your face as you shot a quick glance over your shoulder confirmed it was you.
Sirius' mind began racing as he watched you disappear into the foliage, and suddenly every thought that had given you the benefit of the doubt vanished. He'd heard the rumors about the gatherings in the forest, everyone had. He'd even caught Snape practicing dark magic there himself one of the first nights they'd used the Shrieking Shack passageway.
He jumped off his perch by the window and grabbed a sheet of parchment and a quill, drawing a rough outline of the perimeter of the forest. He labeled the Black Lake so his spell would have a going off point and pressed his wand to the still drying ink.
“Revelare Popularis,”
The enchantment was a work in progress— a technique he'd learned from a seventh year. It wasn't exact, but it was enough to tell him if anyone else was in the forest right now. His eyes darted across the paper as he scanned his makeshift map, and the color drained from his face as he saw names suddenly appear in a cluster by the lake: Mulciber, Wilkes, Avery, and Malfoy.
Was this it? Were you really one of them?
James looked up from his game as he saw Sirius grab his leather jacket off where it hung from his bedpost.
“Going somewhere?”
“(L/n) just went into the forest,” Sirius said, “I'm following them.”
“Why, Sirius?” Remus said sardonically, having had enough of his unusual grudge against you, “We're not really ones to talk when it comes to sneaking around the forest at night, now are we?”
“He's got a point,” James said, “I mean, what do you think you're going to see?”
“What do I think?” Sirius scoffed, pushing the paper into Jame's hands, “what does it look like?”
James looked down at the parchment blankly.
“What am I looking at?”
“A variation on Revelio,” Sirius explained quickly, “if you have a location in mind it shows you who's there, but only at the time the charm is cast.”
“Are you kidding me?” James' jaw nearly dropped, “You're just now showing this to us? We could have been taking advantage of this spell to dodge Filch this whole time!”
“I'm serious.”
James had to fight hard not to make a joke out of that one.
“If (L/n)'s meeting up with those guys it can't be for anything good,” Sirius continued, “and I'm gonna find out exactly why.”
Before any of the boys could get another word in, Sirius took off running down the corridor. James groaned, rebelling against the urge to slam his head into the wall.
“I've got to stop him before he does something stupid,” he said, pulling a coat on over his shoulders, “You with me, Remus?”
“Probably not the best idea,” Lupin reminded him, “the moon's full tomorrow. I won't turn, but in the direct moonlight I may get a bit. . . well, you know.”
“Right,” James sighed, running a hand through his hair in distress, “Peter?”
The boy jolted as he was addressed, his eyes quickly cast down to his twiddling fingers.
“I. . . w-well. . .”
“Fine,” James said, waving them off in annoyance, “I'll go at him alone.”
You took a grateful breath of the crisp night air, letting the wind whistle through your hair and clothes. You loved your common room, but it could feel constricting at times, especially when there were nights as beautiful as this taking place.
Your eyes drifted up to the moon, smiling at the sight of it. It was nearly full, only a sliver of white missing from the very edge of the sphere. The sight alone was enough to make you feel more at home in your own skin, an inexplicable sense of comfort washing over you. You hadn't been able to really let loose and just run in so long. You'd made doubly sure no one had followed you into the forest, but you still gave your surroundings a quick once over. You jumped as the sound of leaves crunching suddenly asserted itself behind you and you lit your wand quickly, turning to see who it was.
“. . . Black?”
“Sorry, were you expecting someone else? One of your pureblood friends, maybe?”
The confused look on your face only made his anger flare.
“Don't act coy,” he asked harshly, “just what are you playing at?”
Your back straightened in surprise, taken aback by his words.
“Excuse me?”
“I've seen you talking to my brother, Rosier, Snivelus, and all those other Slytherins. Don't think I don't know what you're doing,” the words flew out of his mouth before they had time to pass through his brain, every irrational irritation he had regarding you spewing out of him at once, “I've had to sit through it, you know. All those dinners where my parents talk blood politics with all the fanatics who think just like them. I've listened to your mother brag all about your pure blood line and how her child is 'so eager to carry on the family traditions'. So whatever you're planning by getting close to James, I'm not going to let it happen.”
You felt like you were frozen in place, staring at him as your throat tightened into knots.
“My mom?” you said, voice suddenly small, “Sirius. . . my mom passed away when I was little.”
Your words hit the Gryffindor like a truck.
“. . . what?” he asked dumbly, his brain delaying slightly in processing what you'd just said.
“She got sick. . . an experimental spell gone wrong. If you met someone with my family's name that spoke like that, it was probably my aunt. My cousin goes to Ilvermorny. That's the child she's talking about, not me. The divide between purebloods and muggleborns is even more severe in America, if you can believe it. . . ”
Sirius faltered, this new information going against everything he'd heard and thought he knew about you and your family.
“But,” he hesitated, “your father—”
“Put up the image he had to in order to keep me safe,” you said. You knew he was documented as being very open about his pureblood pride and distaste towards muggles, but it was a cover more than anything, “Since he stopped speaking with my aunt and moved us both away from the estate, she's acted as the new head of the (L/n) House, and that was years ago. . .”
You trailed off awkwardly, not feeling very self-righteous in your explanation.
“I know my family doesn't have the best reputation. . . that's probably why you hate me, huh?” you chuckled humorlessly, wincing at how harsh the words came out. But if you were honest, you were hurt that out of everyone in their group, Sirius was the one that didn't even seem to want to give you a chance. You were the one who had extended the olive branch in the first place on the condition that they ease up on Severus.
“Hate you?” Sirius echoed hollowly, feeling guilt creep up on him like a shadow, “that's. . . shit, no, that's not—”
“Everte Statum!”
You gasped as Sirius was suddenly shot backwards, his body flipping wildly through the air from the force before being slammed against the trunk of a nearby tree. His head spun, heavily disoriented as his vision shifted in shades.
You had drawn your wand on instinct, looking around for your attackers when you saw a black-clad figure lift their hood, revealing a long mane of white hair that stood out starkly in the night.
Malfoy.
“Well, looky here,” Mulciber taunted, revealing himself behind you, “we've caught the two biggest blood traitors of the last century having a touching little moment together.”
Laughter echoed from the trees, Wilkes emerging from the shadows. You took up a defensive position as their group surrounded you.
“Now, let's not be hasty, Mulciber,” Lucius said, “their father may have disgraced their house, yes, but they didn't have a choice. It's not too late for them to make the right one now.” His lips turned up into a snarl as he regarded Sirius, “get away from that blood traitor, (L/n), he'll rub off on you.”
You grit your teeth hard, preparing to cast a spell when Malfoy put his hand up in a silencing gesture, the pretentious little prat.
“Ah, you don't want to make any rash moves either, (L/n),” he said, looking to your left. You followed his gaze to see Avery coming out of the foliage, grappling with someone under his arm.
“Potter?!”
James smiled weakly as Avery held him in a choke hold, a bit of blood dripping down the side of his head.
“Hey,” he said, humor still light in his voice, “So, this didn't exactly work out as planned.” He groaned as Avery's elbow was driven into his stomach, effectively silencing him.
As soon as you tried to move towards him, Lucius had his wand pointed at you.
“Let him go and get lost, Malfoy,” you said lowly, “you've taken this far enough.”
“You've been avoiding us, (L/n),” Lucius said, ignoring you entirely, “Snape may have come up with some rubbish excuses for you earlier, but you can't keep running from this.”
“If practicing curses on first years and terrorizing other people is how you plan on using magic, then I don't want any part of your little cult,” you spat, “face it, Malfoy— you lot need me, but I don't need you.”
Lucius exhaled sharply, his genuine surprise at your resistance replaced quickly with anger.
“Think about what you're doing, (L/n),” he said, his eyes narrowing dangerously, “don't be a fool like your father.”
That did it.
With a growl you unleashed an orange bolt of energy from your wand, your Stupefy hitting Lucius square in the chest. Mulciber was quick to retaliate with a jinx of his own, which you quickly nullified with a shield charm. Shock flashed across his expression at your casual use of nonverbal magic, and he recovered one second too late.
Sirius was back on his feet, petrifying Mulciber and swatting Wilkes away like a fly with the knockback jinx before either could cast a spell at you. You and Sirius found yourselves back to back, fending off Lucius as he continued to direct a steady stream of curses in your direction. Sirius managed to create an opening for you and you turned to where James was being held.
“Evanossa!”
A flash of blue hit Avery, who shrieked in horror when he saw that the arm he was using to hold Potter had turned gelatinous, fingers drooping down like melting ice cream. James wasted no time paying him back in kind for roughing him up earlier, sending him flying into the oak tree and using the water from the Black Lake to freeze him there before joining you in the fray.
“Expelliarmus!” he called out, sending Wilke's wand spinning out of his reach and leaving only Malfoy against the three of you.
Lucius faltered for a moment as he stared down your group of three, but held fast.
“Leave it, Malfoy,” you said, “it's over.”
He growled under his breath, taking up an obvious offensive stance, but you were too quick.
“Ebublio!”
Lucius gasped as he suddenly found himself encased in a giant bubble, his knockback jinx ricocheting off the inside and hitting him in the back of the head. He pounded against the bubble in frustration but found it to be thick as Plexiglas and just as strong, unable to pop it. Suddenly, he was hoisted into the air as you raised your wand higher, directing him farther and farther away until he was hovering directly over the Black Lake.
“Let me go this instant!” he growled.
A devilish smile graced your features.
“You got it.”
“No, wait, don't you dar—AHH!!”
You turned your back on him, your breaking eye contact promptly bursting the bubble and sending him flailing into the water a few feet below.
You chuckled as you sent a few quick counter-jinxes out from your wand, restoring Mulciber's range of motion and liquefying the ice that trapped Avery.
As soon as Mulciber was unpetrified he took off running towards the Lake where Lucius was furiously treading water, tripping over his feet as he dragged Wilkes along with him. Avery limped after them, defrosted but still chilled to his bones (which you had been so kind to also restore).
“I'd fish him out quickly if I were you,” you called after them, “the giant squid is more active at night.”
“You're out of your mind, (L/n)!” Avery turned around and yelled, but with fear evident in his eyes, “You'll live to regret this, mark my words. The Headmaster—”
“Would love to know who cast the first spell, I'm sure,” you said darkly.
Avery stammered out some lame response under his breath before turning around and running after the rest of group, retreating.
Sirius turned to look at you, awestruck and chocked full of adrenaline. Maybe you really weren't so bad after all.
“That was. . .” James trailed off, grasping for the words and blurting them out as soon as he found them, “Brilliant, (Y/n). You're bloody brilliant.”
You felt your face heat up, not expecting that. You and James had stopped trading insults and threats (serious ones, anyways) and your teasing had become well meant, but neither of you had crossed the threshold of actually paying the other a compliment before.
“Thanks, Potter,” you said, unable to fight the smile on your face. You turned to Sirius briefly. “I hope this cleared some things up for us,” you said, “I'd really like to try and be friends, so. . .”
“Yeah,” Sirius said, wanting to kick himself at the way you turned him into a monosyllabic neanderthal with just a look. You gave him a small smile before turning back to James who was trying desperately to hide his limp and aching rib cage.
“Alright, let's get you to the hospital wing, Potter,” you sighed, “you look like a cheap action star in a muggle movie.”
“Uh,” James said nervously, “better we not. If I go to Madame Pomfrey three times in one day she'll never let me hear the end of it.”
“And who's fault is that?” You huffed, slinging an arm over his shoulder and helping him walk, “at least let me patch you up, then.”
Sirius followed some distance behind you, watching as you walked James back towards the castle and laughed at his occasional jokes. This one night had just turned everything upside down for Sirius. This whole time he was sure that he didn't like you because you were a blood-purist Slytherin and he was jealous that you were taking his best friend away from him; but the way you had stood up to Lucius and his goons made your position on blood politics very clear, and the tight feeling that struck Sirius' chest as he watched you cozy up with James made him reevaluate just which one of you he was jealous of.
The man blinked, slowly coming back to reality. You were looking up at him in concern, your head resting lightly on his shoulder. It took an embarrassing amount of his willpower to keep from leaning forward just a few inches and kissing you.
Could you pick a worse time, you numbskull? He thought, mentally smacking himself for even thinking about it.
“Are you okay?” you asked hesitantly after he stayed silent.
“I'm alright,” he insisted, giving you a reassuring smile, “just. . . thinking about how far we've come.”
His answer surprised you, though not in a bad way.
“I suppose we have,” you smiled back, “this is a far cry from you scowling at me from across the Great Hall over your breakfast.”
“I did not scowl,” Sirius scoffed playfully, nudging you away with his shoulder.
“Right,” you grinned, “scowling, glaring, glowering, whichever you prefer.”
“I said I was sorry,” he said, putting his hands up in mock surrender, although you both knew you weren't really upset about it. You'd long since forgiven him for his initial misjudgment.
When your light laughter died down, your head found itself lulling to the side again, tiredness taking over your mind as you rested against Sirius once more. When you tilted your head up to look at him he had a surprisingly pensive look on his face. Your eyes traveled across his expression, his gray eyes almost taking on a deep shade of blue in the shadows of his room. You noticed how much younger he looked when he was smiling; it was in moments like these when it really set in how long you had known each other, because you could see the years in his eyes.
Your own flickered down to his lips in spite of yourself and Sirius' heart skipped a beat, fearing you could feel it racing in his rib cage. When had you turned him so soft? He chuckled inwardly. Long before he had fully come to terms with how he felt about you was the answer. Even when he was in Azkaban, with two of his closest friends dead and the world convinced he was at fault, even if he had to live with the fact that he would never see you again, he still thought of you, and that kept him alive, sane— himself. But now you were here in front of him, and he was terrified that at any moment you would vanish into thin air and he would find himself back in that horrible cinder block cell, face to face with a dementor as it took his last memories of you away from him.
Your hand squeezed his, almost as if you had read his thoughts— as if you were assuring him that you were real, and you weren't going anywhere. You noticed him leaning in closer, even if he didn't, possessed by some invisible force. You were nearly about to meet him halfway when you were suddenly startled apart by the sound of quick, heavy-footed steps bounding down the stairs.
You both looked at each other as if you had just awoken from some sort of trance, instinctively putting some distance between yourselves as you shifted away awkwardly.
“I. . . I should probably get to bed,” you said, your face warm.
“Right,” Sirius said, reluctantly getting up from his seat at the edge of his bed, “I've kept you up long enough, I'm sure you're tired. . .”
Before you left his room you turned over your shoulder, a small smile on your face.
“It's really good to see you again, Sirius,” you said earnestly, “we should catch up for real later.”
“Definitely,” he said, a bit of his old self reflected in that smirk of his, albeit forced.
You steeled yourself, turning the doorknob and closing the door behind you gently before you did something to ruin the friendship you had just gotten back after over a decade. You shook the thought aside, your head hurting. You really did need to sleep after today.
You were about to head into your room, but something in you didn't feel quite right. You'd definitely heard someone go down the stairs, but you hadn't heard the front door open or close. Dread pooled in your stomach at your gut feeling, and you found yourself inexplicably making your way back down the stairs.
The house was eerily silent now that its residents had either gone off to bed or disapparated until the next meeting in a few days time. You'd left Sirius upstairs, and you knew Harry was staying here for the time being until school began, but everyone else had gone home. So then why did you still feel someone else's presence so acutely?
You stared at the empty hallway leading to the front door, taking a cautious step forward; the image in front of you didn't feel real. The colors were too saturated, the edges too sharp, and the surfaces too smooth. And that's when it hit you. The smell of rain. Leather-bound books. Lavender.
You froze, staring at the seemingly empty space in front of you.
“Severus?”
The potions master didn't dare make a sound, thinly veiled behind his invisibility charm but clearly not well enough. He was standing not three feet in front of you, taking in the sight of you as if it were the last thing he would ever see.
He panicked slightly as he felt you reach out to him with your mind, shutting himself off expertly. Your hurt expression as you were unable to detect anything pained him, but he wouldn't dare think that he deserved to say anything to you. What was there to say after everything he'd done?
Your gaze roamed the empty hall, and for a moment he could have sworn you stared him right in the eyes.
You knew he was there.
The moment lasted no longer than a second before you looked away, turning to go back up the stairs. As soon as your back was facing the front door you heard it open then close gently, and the tears you had been fighting to hold back finally spilled over.
.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 2
As you reconcile with Sirius, he reminisces on how you came to be friends despite a rather rocky start (mostly told through flashbacks taking place in the Marauders era).
“I was about to see if you were awake,” Sirius admitted with a small grin, “Seems we both had the same idea.”
He shifted his weight from foot to foot, stepping aside slightly so you could come in. If the Sirius Black from your school days had offered you into his room in the dead of night, you would have slapped him upside the head; but things were different now, and so were the two of you.
However, as you glanced around the room you almost laughed at how remarkably unchanged it was, and why wouldn't it be? He hadn't lived here since he was sixteen, and he was only living here now because he preferred this house to an Azkaban cell by a small fraction. While the rest of the house was set in deep tones of obsidian and gray, save for the green Slytherin theme of his younger brother's room, Sirius' room was all warm shades of red and gold, Gryffindor paraphernalia covering every inch of it from Quidditch trophies and old banners to a tapestry he had stolen from the Great Hall when they'd won the house cup that year.
The room was littered with memories of your school life— a set of charred robes from when he and James had drunkenly lit the Quidditch field hoops on fire, an old Beater's bat that he had broken in half during the Cup finals, an old Gobstones set you used to play with in the courtyard, and stacks of classic rock records that you and Remus had gifted him for the holidays. A muggle toolbox sat in the corner of the room from when he'd made improvements to his enchanted motorbike that couldn't be done with magic, which you were certain his parents were mortified by.
Posters of bikini-clad women were plastered across the wallpaper, and you recalled the day he told you his mother had a fit when she realized he'd used a permanent sticking charm on them so she couldn't take them down. Said posters were still present, but mostly covered up by all the photos of him and his friends from their school and early Order days— the only noticeable sign of change you could see from his moving back in. It was truly like some sort of time capsule.
As soon as you tore your eyes away from the room and turned to focus on its owner, a tense silence fell between you two. This was the first time you had seen Sirius in over a decade. The last time you two spoke, he was in chains being led away to Azkaban. What was there to say? How could you possibly think things could go back to the way they were?
“Sirius,” your voice cracked with emotion as you said his name, and when you saw the look in his eyes, so similar to the look he'd given you when he was in that horrible barbed cage during his trial, the dam just broke.
You practically threw yourself at him, sobbing quietly into his shoulder as the fabric of his shirt bunched up in your trembling hands
“I'm sorry,” you said, “I am so, so sorry I didn't believe you, Sirius. I didn't know, I didn't—”
“(Y/n), it's okay,” Sirius said softly.
You almost jumped at his gentle touch, his arm wrapping around your waist and one hand coming up to pet your hair. It hurt him to see you like this, that you went through this much because of him.
“There was no way you could have known,” he said, resting his chin on top of your head as tears continued to stream down your face, “There was no proof that I wasn't the Secret Keeper. We'd decided to make it that rat at the last second. Only James and Lily knew and, well, they couldn't exactly attest to my innocence.”
Hatred bubbled up in his chest at his own mention of Pettigrew, but he forced it down for you, his expression softening as soon as he looked at you. “That was bad judgment on my part, I suppose,” he said in an attempt to lighten the mood, although twelve years in prison was a difficult matter to joke about.
“I should have just believed you,” you muttered into his collar. Sirius' other hand reached out to cup your face, wiping the last few tears from your cheeks.
“Come now, even Moony thought I'd done it,” he said, a small smirk finding its way to his face, “I know what it looked like. . . I don't blame any of you for not believing me. So please, don't blame yourself for this, (Y/n). You're still my best friend.”
“Oh, now you've done it,” you sniffled, laughing despite yourself as fresh tears spilled over. Sirius laughed along with you and yo u could feel the sound reverberate through his chest, rich and melodic. Warm.
He wrapped both his arms around you, holding you tight as you two chuckled like a couple of idiots, standing there glassy-eyed in the middle of his room. If anyone else had bore witness to the scene they'd have thought you'd gone mad, but in that moment you couldn't care less. Your body had been buckling under the weight of your guilt and how much you had missed him. Hearing him say that he still considered you his best friend. . . that was more than you could have ever asked for.
Sirius swelled with pride as he saw he was able to make you smile, something he'd long considered a small victory. He couldn't believe how much your relationship had changed. If someone had told him all those years ago that you would turn out to be someone he couldn't imagine his life without, he wouldn't have believed them. But he supposed life was unexpected like that. . .
Ever since the day you'd stood up to him, James Potter found himself increasingly curious about you. Of course he and his friends continued to pick on Snape, but when you were around to fend them off it became more and more difficult to do so, something that the leader of the self-proclaimed Marauders decided was cumbersome.
James insisted that to get to Snape they would have to take you down too, since you were so keen on protecting him.
“We need to cut the head off the snake,” he had said.
And so, slowly but surely, James shifted the cross hairs of his mischief-making from Severus Snape to you. It started out small; a Bat-bogey hex here, some heat sensitive combustion power under your cauldron there. What he didn't expect in the slightest was for you to actually retaliate with pranks of your own.
Quidditch season had just ended as the year came to a close, and James, who was supposed to be helping clean out the Gryffindor tent, was lying on his back and fiddling about with a golden snitch he'd found wedged in the wooden scaffolding. His head perked up as he saw the Lily across the pitch, walking next to you and chatting. He clearly couldn't care less about what, as he had no problem interrupting your conversation.
“Hey, Evans!” he hollered, heading towards you two.
As soon as Lily spotted him she rolled her eyes.
“And now we're walking faster,” she muttered, grabbing you by the arm and tugging you along.
“Aw come on, I just wanna talk,” he said, quickly catching up with you. Before long he had jogged a few paces ahead, turning around to block your path. “Hey,” he said with a smirk. He was wearing his Quidditch practice uniform, broom in hand.
“Merlin, you are nothing if not persistent,” Lily huffed.
“What can I say? I'm a Chaser~”
“Goodbye, James,” Lily deadpanned at the pun, and he quickly moved in front of her again.
“Wait, wait! Just watch this, okay?” he insisted.
You bit back a smirk, grateful he hadn't paid you any mind until now.
“Trust me, you've never seen anything like this before,” James said cockily, willing his broomstick to hover a few feet off the ground and hauling one leg over to mount it. However, as soon as his arse hit the wood, his entire body phased right through it. He groaned as his tailbone made unceremonious contact with the ground, his broomstick now hovering above him. As soon as he looked up the stick dropped and plonked him on the head, solid again.
You burst out laughing, revealing your wand that had been obstructed from his view by your sleeve.
“(Y/n)!” Lily looked at you in shock, hitting you in the arm playfully but unable to fight the laughter that rose in her chest. It was nice to see him get a harmless taste of his own medicine.
“Well, you were right, Potter,” the redhead said, “I've never seen anything like that before.”
James' face flushed with embarrassment while you two walked away, gathering his broom and whatever remained of his pride. You wouldn't get the better of him again.
Or, at least that's what he told himself until the beginning of your fourth year.
James strode down the corridors leading to the Great Hall with a pep in his step. It had been an unusually peaceful morning; despite having slept in, he wasn't in much of a rush to join his friends who had already made their way to breakfast.
The real reason for his quick pace was because he couldn't wait to see your reaction to his latest prank. It was a classic, amped up a bit thanks to a tube of ink from one of the “magic” markers at Zonkos. He hoped you liked your new look, because you were going to be saddled with it for a while.
As he walked through the courtyard he shot a wink to a fourth year Hufflepuff girl he recognized from his Divination class and she covered her hand with her mouth, turning away from him slightly as she tried to hold back the giggles that spilled from her lips. He gave himself a pat on the back, oblivious to the fact that the laughter was directed at him, an unawareness that stayed with him up until the moment he threw the doors to the Great Hall open. The gasps and laughter that followed him only grew as he sat down at his usual spot. Even his friends were staring at him, wide-eyed and unblinking.
“What?” James ran a hand through his hair in confusion, “What are you guys—!!”
As his hair flopped in front of his face his peripheral vision was curtained with the brightest shade of neon turquoise he'd ever seen.
“No,” he said, “no, no, no way!”
He grabbed one of the food trays, dumping the pastries that were on top onto the table. Peter squeaked as he caught a few that were about to fall, setting them down quietly on his own plate.
James stared at his reflection in the shiny metal, and sure enough his once pristine brunette hair was colored the bright blue of the magic marker whose contents he'd dumped into your shower bottle the night before.
“Did you like the shampoo?” a voice behind him asked innocently.
He nearly jumped out of his skin as he turned around to see you, your hair colored the same bright blue shade. Now he was thoroughly confused.
“It smells nice, right?”
“How did you. . . if I. . . why is your hair—”
“A simple connection charm on the shampoo bottle,” you said, “anyone who touches it receives the same benefits and results of the next person who uses it within three hours. In this case, you landed yourself a dye job and a hell of a keratin treatment, so you're welcome. The spell was already on the bottle to begin with; pretty convenient when you have dorm mates that can all save on buying product, and besides it can be kind of nice to skip a hair wash day every once in a while. I suppose I should thank you, I didn't have to do any shopping or sneaking around for this one. You did all the work for me.”
You put your hand to your chin, pretending to study him for a moment.
“You should take care of that fast, though” you said nonchalantly, gesturing to his hair, “you don't look nearly as cute as I do in this color, Potter.”
To further prove your point, you waved your wand around the crown of your head, and with a quick utter of 'aufero hue' the blue in your hair seemed to melt right off the strands, leaving behind your natural (h/c) locks. The color swirled around the tip of your wand in an aqueous state for a moment before you flung it aside. It landed with a splat! against the Gryffindor table, staining a section of the wood that same shade of bright blue as if it had grown that way.
“I'd do it for you myself, but I don't want to,” you smirked, “ Perhaps you could take a few remedial classes to learn the color-leeching charm. Have fun figuring something out!”
And with that you flounced away, leaving behind a very embarrassed, very blue, and very reluctantly impressed James Potter.
He may just have found himself a proper rival.
Sirius scoffed from where he sat.
“Oh please, the stupid charm can't be that hard to do,” he said, taking out his wand.
“Not that I don't have faith in you, mate, but I'm probably better off seeing if Slughorn has anything for this,” James said.
“Why don't you just soak your head in some Valerian water? That's what takes the color out of potions, right?”
James would go on to land a few good jokes on you too. There was one night where you had snuck into the Prefect's bathroom and emerged with a mermaid tail, which was pretty awesome until you realized you had no way of getting out of the tub. From then on, you and James would continue to try and get the jump on one another, marking the start of your now-infamous fourth year prank war. It entertained the students and infuriated the faculty. Gradually, your pranks on one another became more light-hearted, meant to amuse the other person and make them laugh rather than actually hurt or humiliate them.
“Very funny, (L/n),” James said as he walked up to you, his body turned around 180 degrees from the waist up so he had to shuffle backwards to face you. You laughed, nearly choking on your pumpkin juice as you saw your handy work.
“What are you, five?”
“Right, because you're so much more mature stalking and bullying my friends,” you quipped back.
“I really don't understand how Snivelus is your friend.”
“Severus,” you said crossly, “and for the record, I really don't understand how Remus is yours either. He seems like a nice guy.”
“Har har,” James rolled his eyes, “Now would you turn me the right way 'round already? I've got Quidditch practice.”
“Nah, I think you're fine to play like this.”
“Honestly? Not a bad tactic. I can cover my blind spot and stare at my own ass while I fly.”
“Who's five now?” you grinned.
As the months went on, instead of storming over to each other and slinging insults, your interactions with James became more akin to playful banter. And frankly, Sirius didn't get it. You were a Slytherin, and a pureblood at that. Hell, you were a descendant of one of the 28 pureblood families. Everything about you went against everything he believed in and relished in getting away from each year when he would leave home to go to school. You were in the same house as those stupid blood purists, you probably were one yourself—
“You're glaring.”
Sirius blinked, snapping out of his stupor as Remus nudged him in the shoulder. He said nothing, slowly returning to eating his dinner as he tore his eyes away from you, sitting at the Slytherin table with Snivelus, Evan Rosier, and his younger brother of all people. He stabbed at his roast potatoes a little too harshly and his friends traded looks among themselves.
“You alright there, mate?” James asked cautiously.
“Fantastic,” Sirius said, shoving another forkful of potatoes into his mouth to avoid saying anything unsavory as he spotted you heading towards their table.
“Coming to the library today, Remus?” you asked the boy to his right who looked up at you in surprise.
“Oh, sure thing,” he said, “I'm off for the night.”
“Great, we can study for Arithmancy then,” you said. Remus nodded at your suggestion and you gave him a dazzling smile, walking off with your books.
“Since when did you two get so chummy?” Sirius bristled.
Remus rolled his eyes.
“We're just studying for the upcoming mid marks,” he said, “They’re proficient in Ancient Runes and History of Magic. As a study partner it's. . . refreshing.”
“Oi, are you calling us stupid?” James rose a brow.
“Your words, not mine,” Lupin grinned. He saw Sirius' bothered expression and sighed, collecting his things.
“You might get on if you bothered to get to know them,” he told Sirius out of the others' earshot, slinging his book bag over his shoulder before heading off in your direction.
You only continued to grow inadvertently closer to James throughout your fourth year, your prank battle coming to its epic conclusion with the two of you joining forces against some particularly nasty upperclassmen. Your practical jokes subsided, your quips and passing insults were traded for real conversations and walking each other to class. You hated to admit it, but he'd grown on you— especially with him letting up considerably on bullying Severus and annoying Lily lately.
All the while, the closer you got to James the more irritated his best friend became. In Sirius' mind, the more time you were spending with James the less time James was spending with him. They hardly hung out alone anymore. And since James started hanging out with you he started mellowing out, which made Lily start hanging out with him, which made him even more tame. Sirius just wanted his best friend back.
“You do realize that issue would largely be resolved if you weren't so bothered by hanging out with both of them together, right?” Lupin had brought up one night as Sirius was airing out his frustrations.
“I'm not going to bother making friends with someone whose family is so wrapped up in blood politics they forget to be human beings first. Trust me, I've met their mother enough times to know.”
“Have you ever asked them about it?” Remus pressed.
“I don't really need to, do I? They're a (L/n). Open your eyes, Moony!”
Remus' brow furrowed, a shine in his eyes akin to sympathy as he regarded Sirius.
“Perhaps it's you that needs to clear your vision, friend.”
A/N: Thank you all so much for the unexpected early support on this story! I have a lot planned for it~ If you’d like to be added to the taglist just let me know !
.:Time And Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 1
Old habits die hard— and so do feelings, apparently. Relive moments high and low from your life with the Marauders and co. as you tell your godson, Harry, about all the mischief you got up to back in your school days. Takes place mainly in the Marauders era but also has content congruent with the Order of the Phoenix timeline, with some cannon divergence, of course~
- Main pairings: Sirius Black x Reader, Severus Snape x Reader, James Potter x Reader, Remus Lupin x Reader, slight Regulus Black x Reader, and a bunch of friendships! Gender neutral pronouns :)
Not in the temperature sense of the word, especially in the heat of London summer, but something about it felt distant. Perhaps it was the cookie cutter exterior, dreadfully drab, although you knew its true nature was anything but. Despite its grandeur, the interior was as ornate as it was dull and unsaturated, like a black and white photograph in all its monochromatic glory. Maybe it was the fact that you knew what had happened here in the past, or the fact that you knew who was waiting here for you in the present.
You felt the strange sensation of stepping through the thick blanket of protection charms surrounding the house, as if your body were moving through molasses for a fraction of a second. The moment you were fully inside, you began to hear the hushed bits of a conversation echoing through the entrance hall from the dining room whose door was slightly ajar. The words became clearer as you neared the door.
“Harry's not ready! Have you gone completely mad?”
You found yourself grinning at the first voice, Molly Weasley's stern tone unmistakable.
“He's not a child, Molly.”
You froze as you heard the second one; you'd know it anywhere.
A heavy wave of emotion surged through you as you got near enough to the entrance to see the face of Sirius Black through the gap in the door. His time in Azkaban had taken a toll on him, you could tell. Heavy bags hung from his face, his cheeks hollow; although his gray eyes still held that spark in them. His hair was longer, somehow even more wild and unruly than before, but it suited him.
“Well he's not an adult either! He's not James.”
You caught a flash of ginger as Molly crossed the room, using her wand to aggressively clear away the plates on the table as she made her point.
“I know he isn't, but he can handle himself,” Sirius said, “and I'll be there to protect him.”
“How touching, Black. Perhaps the boy will grow up to be a felon just like his godfather.”
Your stomach dropped at the third voice. Shit.
Your presence remained unannounced, but as you peaked your head around the corner of the door frame you were met with Severus' stoic face, an imperceptible crease of distaste in his brow as he regarded Sirius. As your view widened you saw that Lupin sat to his left, a human wall between the two former foes.
You stilled at the door, taking a deep breath in an attempt to settle your irrationally rioting nerves. It's not as if you didn't know they would be there, but it had been so long since you'd seen any of them. So much has changed. . .
“You stay out of this, Snivelus. I don't care what Dumbledore has to say about your supposed reformation, but I know better.”
“Don't you have to go play fetch elsewhere?”
“Oh come on, you two,” Remus sighed.
Well, maybe not much has changed after all.
“Still resorting to playground bickering, are we?”
Several heads snapped in your direction at your words, and you were met with various reactions. Molly's face immediately split into a smile and she rushed around to table to greet you.
“(Y/n), dear! So nice to see you again,” she pulled you into a surprisingly strong hug and you couldn't help but join in her laughter.
“It's good to be back,” you admitted, “Charlie says hello, by the way.”
“Oh, I'm going to give give that boy a talking to,” Molly huffed, “you aren't his owl, dear. The least he could do is write home and say so himself.”
“Romanian mountain ranges keep a wizard busy,” you grinned, “He says he tries to keep in touch.”
“Sending home a bag of petrified dragon scales with a note that says 'look at this!!' is hardly keeping in touch,” she retorted, fussing about with your jacket's collar that had become wrinkled from her embrace.
Even from across the table you could feel Sirius' eyes on you, grateful that you had Molly's whirlwind greeting as a scapegoat for your flushed face.
“(Y/n). . .” he said softly, getting up from his seat.
“Hey,” you smiled, fighting the lump in your throat as he wrapped his arms around you. He was so warm, still wearing that damn leather jacket he'd somehow been reunited with after his imprisonment.
“What are you doing here? They told me you were out working in America,” Sirius said, eyes twinkling as he held you at arm's length.
“Well, I suppose I'm sort of working everywhere these days,” you said. As his words registered in your brain you turned to Molly with narrowed eyes. “You didn't tell him I was coming?”
“I thought it would be a nice surprise,” she said coyly.
You shook your head, turning back to Sirius.
“I'm so sorry, Molly said I could stay here so I thought she already ran it by you—”
“No, no, of course you can stay!” he said enthusiastically, “I'm glad you're here.”
He seemed gentler than he was before, certainly more mellow than in his youth, but that energy that was so quintessentially him remained buzzing beneath his skin, and Merlin, you'd missed it.
After realizing how long the two of you had spent practically holding each other you coughed awkwardly, slowly drifting apart. As you looked around the table your eyes caught Severus' and you thought your heart stopped for a moment. To the untrained eye he probably seemed just as uninterested as ever, but the look of shock in his eyes was so blatantly apparent to you that it threw you off guard. You managed to cast a small smile in his direction, but his expression remained unchanged while yours dropped. You felt your stomach twist up in knots as you thought about what had happened the last time you saw each other.
Lupin looked between the pair of you before getting up from his own seat and coming to your rescue. He extended his arms with a kind smile, and you happily shifted your attention to him.
“It's about time London had its best auror back in town,” he said.
“Flattery will get you nowhere, Moony,” you said playfully, hugging him tight, “It's good to see you too.”
“Are you hungry?” Molly asked, pulling a chair out for you.
“Oh no, I had something on the way here,” you said, taking a seat, “thank you, though.”
It felt surreal to be back here, where it all started. The faces were different—some new, some missing—but the same determined feeling remained.
“Now, where were we,” Sirius said, his confidence returning to his shoulders as he addressed the table.
“We were just talking about how Harry isn't ready to be tangled up in all this,” Molly said sternly.
“I think he should decide that for himself,” Sirius said adamantly.
“Well of course the boy would say he wants to fight, he's—”
“Listening in right now,” you pointed out, jutting your head in the direction of the open door where Harry stood, half obscured by the shadow of the stairway.
The boy flushed, backing away slightly as he was caught. But his eyes lit up as they landed on you, and you felt a tug at your heart as you saw your best friend in their bright green hues.
“(Y/n), you're back,” he said in disbelief.
“And here to stay for a bit, apparently,” you said with a smile.
Molly looked between the two of you before letting out a sigh.
“You know what, we should stop for the night anyways,” she said with a wave of her hand, “We've kept the children up long enough with our chatter, and (Y/n) ought to get some rest as well. Off to bed, the lot of you.”
Some of the other adults exchanged some knowing smiles as she shooed them out of the room. People slowly trickled out through the doorway, goodbyes exchanged, and before long it was just you and your godson left.
You had been lucky enough to meet Harry at the end of his third year, and he'd broken the news about Sirius' innocence to you. You so badly wanted to be there for Harry sooner, but between your strained relationship with the Ministry and cleaning up the mess with MACUSA in the States, you always seemed to be called away from the boy. You wanted nothing more than to take him away from that horrid house—you knew how nasty Petunia could be firsthand. Nonetheless, he seemed to be doing well, and you were happy that you'd grown closer over the last few years even if you couldn't be there in person all the time.
“I've got another little souvenir for you, by the way,” you said, having migrated to the living room.
Harry seemed to perk up at that. Since your visits had been so sparse, you began to make it a tradition to bring him back something magical from whatever part of the world you'd been working in.
“You mentioned you were struggling in Potions the last time we spoke,” you said, rummaging through your bag, eventually producing a small, gold-rimmed vial full of a deep maroon liquid. Small black clouds seemed to tumble in a miniature cyclone inside the glass.
“Dragon's breath essence,” you grinned, “nicked it off of Charlie before I left Romania. Put a few drops of this in your salamander blood the next time you brew a Wiggenweld potion and you're set to pass with flying colors.”
“Brilliant!” Harry said, eyes wide, “that's on our O.W.L.S. this year.”
“I know,” you said cheekily, “you didn't hear it from me. Personally, I think an Outstanding in Potions as a requirement to become an auror is utter rubbish. Don't get me wrong, it's important to know your way around a cauldron, but to hold someone back who excels at Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms just because they can't cook up a sleeping draught? I don't know, it doesn't sit right with me. And I've heard Severus is hard enough on you guys as it is.”
Harry seemed surprised at your casual address of his professor but shook it off quickly.
“But you're ace at Potions, and it seems like you really like it,” he said.
“Yeah, well I—” you faltered a bit, “I learned from the best. . .”
“Professor Slughorn, you mean?” Harry questioned.
Your eyes widened at that.
“Yeah,” you lied, recovering fast, “Well, Slughorn was a great teacher but terrible at throwing parties. He had this thing called the Slug Club and the dinners were just awful. Your mother was the first of us to join and she ended up roping me into it, and before we knew it we were all standing around in these ridiculous outfits taking swigs of the firewhiskey your dad snuck in just to get through the night.”
You smiled fondly at the memory, and you could see Harry living vicariously through the emotions on your face. You were grateful for this moment; this was the longest you'd actually gotten to sit down and talk together in a long time.
“Were you always friends?” Harry asked, “with my parents, I mean.”
You had to laugh at that question.
“With your mum, yes. Your father, well, not exactly. . .”
Your body swayed gently with the movement of the Hogwarts Express as you walked up and down the isles, looking for someplace to sit. Most of the carriages were packed tight with large groups made up of upperclassmen not exactly looking to expand their circle.
As you approached the back of the train a mostly empty car caught your eye, occupied only by two children your age, or at least that's what you guessed from their black ties and basic robes that marked them as unsorted first-years like yourself.
One of them was a brooding looking boy with messy, shoulder length black hair and shockingly pale skin, leaning against the wall of the train and halfway through a book that seemed well beyond his years. Sitting across from him was a pretty red-headed girl who was admiring the rapidly passing scenery through the window.
“Excuse me, do you mind if I sit with you?” you asked, sliding the screen door open.
The boy's brow furrowed, clearly about refuse when the young girl beat him to it.
“Of course not!” she beamed, her smile infectious. You didn't miss the sharp look she shot over to the boy who simply rolled his eyes in response. After you muttered a small 'thanks' she scooted over closer to the window so you could sit next to her.
“My name is Lily,” she said, extending a hand, “Lily Evans.”
“Nice to meet you,” you smiled, “I'm (Y/n) (L/n).”
The boy quirked a brow at your last name, his expression shifting to something unreadable as he blatantly studied you over the spine of his book. After letting this go on for some time, you glanced over at Lily.
“Does he speak?”
“Perfectly well, thank you,” the boy said coldly.
Lily sent a disappointed look his way and his heart fell slightly, but he didn't need to be friends with anyone else, and he certainly didn't want other people becoming friends with Lily either. An irrational thought, he knew, but it was how his stubborn little brain worked at the time. They didn't need anyone but each other. Wasn't that enough?
In any case, he expected his behavior would be enough to scare you off (it usually worked on other people), but to his complete and utter surprise, you began to laugh. It started off as a light giggle, soon growing into full on laughter. He stared at you in open confusion as you were nearly brought to tears from your fit.
“You're funny,” you stated honestly, managing to speak through your chortles.
The boy was taken completely aback by your candor, actually at a loss for words. Lily joined in the laughter at your simple remark.
“So you do talk, I guess you must have a name too, then,” you said teasingly.
He blinked once. Twice.
“. . . Severus Snape.”
“That's a cool name.”
The heat that crept onto the boy's face surprised no one more than himself, and he buried himself in his book quickly to hide it. Another surprisingly frank statement from you, and not one he'd ever heard before.
If he thought you were full of surprises then, he had no idea what was coming to him.
The minute the Sorting Hat was placed on your head, it was immediately intrigued.
“Now here's an odd one,” it chuckled, “loyal, compassionate, empathetic, and yet a razor wit. A calculating, ambitious mind, and yet a relentless sense of adventure. All this, and with your bloodline to take into account as well. Your family has quite the history here, (L/n).”
Hushed whispers fell across the Great Hall among the older students and even some of the faculty at the hat's words, and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat.
“Though, I sense a different sort of mentality in you,” the hat continued, “you desire to challenge the old ways,” it paused for some time before going on, “do you truly have no preference, child?”
You were surprised at the question. You knew your family's reputation— it had been ingrained in you from a young age— but that didn't sway you, nor did it scare you. When you really thought about what house you wanted to be in, you truly couldn't think of an answer. It wouldn't change who you were, after all. Whether you donned red, yellow, blue, or green, you stood firmly in the knowledge that you would always be (Y/n) (L/n). Having made up your mind, you shook your head at the hat's question, and although its face was obscured from your view, you could almost sense its grin as it knew you were telling the truth.
“Well then,” it chuckled, “It is truly rare that I get an opportunity such as this. Let's make it interesting, then, shall we? Better be. . . Slytherin!”
Snape sat, slack-jawed, as you bounded over to the applauding Slytherin table and plopped down next to him. You rested your chin atop your folded hands, looking largely unbothered, a glint in your (e/c) eyes. He chuckled under his breath despite himself.
Your first encounter with James Potter was of a different sort.
It was the very beginning of your third year when you'd first met him properly. You had a few classes together, and Lily would rant about him constantly pestering her; occasionally you'd see the Gryffindor, along with another unfamiliar boy in his house, sprinting through the corridors, Professor McGonagall not far behind and demanding them to stop. But other than that, you'd never really interacted with him.
Ever since you'd met on the train you and Lily started to hang out more and more, with Snape “begrudgingly” tagging along. The Slytherin had been slow to warm up to you, but you were relentlessly kind and infuriatingly persistent, and eventually he found himself enjoying your little quips and comparatively sunny disposition. By the end of your first year, the three of you were nearly inseparable, and your bond only strengthened throughout your second. But third year is when things started changing.
Snape sat in the shade among the thick, overgrown roots of the old oak tree by the Black Lake, nose deep in an advanced Potions textbook he'd swiped from a fifth year as he waited for you and Lily to return from Transfiguration, the only class you didn't have together. This became your usual spot, with Lily sitting in the grass beside him and you on the branch above him, legs swinging as you absentmindedly sketched in your notebook. A comfortable silence would settle between you, something you'd all grown to enjoy; there was no need for constant conversation, it was enough sometimes to just enjoy each others' presence.
The silence he was reveling in alone, however, was promptly interrupted as rowdy laughter reached Snape's ears. Sure enough, a few figures emerged from the curve of the hill, revealing none other than James Potter, flanked by the curly haired boy he'd been seen running around with earlier along with two other Gryffindors: a short-statured boy with dirty blonde hair and another, taller and leaner, with long scars that ran along his face.
Snape didn't pay them much mind until he realized that they were heading straight for the tree— straight for him. Snape had noticed right away how the Potter boy had tried to befriend Lily as soon as she was sorted into Gryffindor, and it was safe to say he was less than fond of him despite having never really spoken to him before.
“You've got to be joking,” James snickered as he walked up to the tree, looking Snape up and down, “This is the guy Evans has been ditching us to see?”
Severus' eyes narrowed. So now he had a reason not to like him.
“Get lost,” he said, turning back to his book.
“What, you think you're too good to talk to us, huh?” James scoffed at him, clearly miffed.
As if on cue, the curly haired boy snatched the book out of Snape's hands, holding it out of his reach as he fumbled to get it back.
“Toss it, Sirius!” James called out. The boy, who he now knew as Sirius, threw the textbook like a frisbee, and Potter caught it easily.
As Snape angrily rose from his seat to get it back, the two boys continued to throw it between themselves so he couldn't grab it. Fed up, the Slytherin drew his wand but was quickly outmatched.
“Expelliarmus!”
Snape's wand flew out of his hands and straight into Sirius', who held it above his head. Just as the black haired boy jumped up for it, another spell flew towards him, this time from James.
“Winguardium Leviosa!”
Snape grit his teeth, staring helplessly at his wand as it hovered higher and higher out of his reach.
“James, come on, I think that's enough,” the taller boy near the back said.
“Don't be a bore, Remus, we're just having some fun.”
“I-I think he's right, guys.”
“Shut up, Peter.”
While his gaze was trained on his wand a harsh shove threw Snape to the ground, tears of frustration welling up in his eyes.
“No way, is he really crying?” James taunted.
“He is,” Sirius goaded on, “just look at him snivel.”
“You're right, maybe we should call him Snivelus, it suits him better.”
“Nice one, James.”
Snape winced as he was harshly pulled to his feet by James who sneered at him.
“Come on then, Snivelous. What are you gonna do?”
“Relashio!”
James' eyes widened as he suddenly felt himself repulsed back by some invisible force, his grip on Snape's robes forced to loosen as he was flung backwards. You stared the shocked Gryffindors down, wand at the ready for another spell as you ran to stand between Severus and them.
“Accio!” another voice called out, Snape's book and wand whizzing past their faces and into Lily's hands.
James staggered to his feet, trying to look unbothered by the fact that he'd just been knocked down, and by a spell that he hadn't even heard of yet.
“Look at that, boys,” he said, feigning confidence, “guess Snivelus needs a couple of girls to come to his rescue. You should ditch this loser, Evans.”
Before Lily could lash back, you stepped between them.
“What's that supposed to mean?” you scoffed.
“I'm sorry, who are you?”
You felt your forehead twitch, itching to smack that smug grin off his face.
It was Sirius who spoke next, recognition filling his gaze.
“Wait, you're the (L/n) kid, aren't you? Well that's just perfect, you two freaks can go study the Unforgivable Curses together.”
That struck a nerve in you.
“You don't know anything,” you said, not lowering your wand, “now get out of here before I knock you down too.”
“Aw, I don't know, Sirius, they're kind of cute all flustered like this,” James smirked.
You felt anger flare up in your chest, and it was Lily's turn to step in for you.
“Leave us alone, James,” she ordered.
When none of them moved you exhaled sharply, taking another step forward.
“Or I can just turn you into a flobberworm instead,” you said, “might be more fitting.”
Sirius laughed off your threat, but you could have sworn you saw a twinge of concern in his eyes as he looked over to the rest of his friends for backup.
“Let's just go, James. Come on,” the one named Remus said, trying to be the voice of reason.
The bespectacled boy frowned, shoving his wand back in his robes.
“Fine,” he said, “they aren't worth it anyways.”
He turned promptly on his heels, Sirius right behind him and Peter scampering after. Remus stayed behind for a moment, regarding you three.
“I'm sorry about them,” he said, “really.”
Your brow creased in suspicion, but you nodded, not quite smiling but offering up a neutral expression at least before he turned to catch up with the rest of his group.
“You were kidding about (L/n) being cute, right?” Sirius said as they headed back to the common room. When he was met with silence instead of a clear 'of course I was' he nearly had a stroke.
“Are you kidding, James?” Sirius said incredulously, “They're a Slytherin! They're just another dark arts dabbler who doesn't care about anything but their blood status.”
James only shrugged.
“Normally I'd agree, but they seem different,” he said. When he turned to see Sirius' unwavering expression he sighed, “I was just saying that to get a rise out of 'em. Don't worry, this won't be the last time we mess with them and Snivelus.”
Meanwhile, you were still out sitting by the tree, brushing the grass out of Severus' hair.
“That was amazing, (Y/n),” Lily said, wide-eyed, “How did you manage to learn that spell? And you already learned the worm-morphing jinx too?”
“Sev isn't the only one who's been learning ahead,” you said, “but that worm thing was a total bluff.”
“I didn't need your help,” Snape muttered.
You blinked down at him, shaking your head and unable to fight the smirk that crept onto your face.
“Sure you didn't,” you huffed, helping him up to his feet despite his protests, “don't be so dramatic, we won't tell anyone if that's what you're so worried about. Now come on, we're gonna be late for dinner. If Wilkes hogs all the Yorkshire puddings I'm blaming you entirely.”
Severus said nothing, only taking his book and wand back from Lily before you three walked back to the castle arm in arm, the smallest hint of a smile playing on his lips.
“It seems like so long ago,” you said, reminiscing, “Although I suppose it was, but I don't want to think about that too hard— I'll start to feel old, Merlin forbid.”
Harry's eyes were full of disbelief at your story.
“So you, my mum, and. . . Snape were friends?”
“Believe it or not,” you grinned, “unlikely trio as we were, it just sort of worked somehow.”
Until it didn't, you thought grimly, but forced the thought aside. You could tell by how quiet Harry had gotten that something was bothering him.
“My dad really did that?” he asked quietly.
Your gaze softened and you turned to fully face him.
“He was dumb and immature at the time,” you said, “we all were. There's not much else to be when you're thirteen. Each of us made plenty of mistakes, too many to count. And your mum. . . she was good for him. He always told me that she made him want to be a better person. People can change. In my opinion, there are few things someone can do that makes them truly irredeemable, and your father never came close to doing any of those things.”
You thought it better to mention that Snape probably didn't feel the same way.
“In any case, we should be getting to bed,” you said, getting up from the couch, “if you ever want to hear any other stories about your parents, I've got plenty of them.”
“Yeah,” Harry said, smile brightening his whole face, “yeah, definitely. Thank you.”
As Harry walked off to his room you sighed, making your way as quietly as you could up the creaky stairs. Just as you were about to retreat into your own guest room, your eyes snagged on the slightly ajar door at the top of the stairwell.
You stalled in front of it for a moment, wondering if you were out of your mind or not. When you had unapologetically settled on 'yes', you moved to knock on the door when it suddenly swung open. You practically leaped back at the proximity as you were met with Sirius standing in the doorway, stormy eyes wide. He'd shed his leather jacket for the night, leaving him in a dark maroon button up with the top few undone. Your senses were draped with the heady scent of his cologne, and you found yourself grasping at words to say.
When Sirius got over his initial shock he laughed sheepishly, running a hand through his curls out of habit.
“I was about to see if you were awake,” he admitted with a small grin, “Seems we both had the same idea.”
