summary: Sirius and your's paths never found themselves crossing in the six years you've been at to Hogwarts together, until they did. In a real intimate way. And then you get pregnant, and you become permanently connected for the rest of your lives.
I'm so terrible with describing things, my b😭 This is basically a teen drama set at Hogwarts with pregnancy added in the mix because why not. (actually the pregnancy is kind of the main plot) (i swear i'll get better at this)
also on ao3 here!!
warnings: teen pregnancy, low stakes angst, very very brief suicidal ideation, pregnancy symptoms (obviously), lots of family issues and both sirius & reader have not great families, references to sex (obviously) but nothing explicit, lots of swearing, peter pettigrew is a bit of a git
status: ongoing
chapter one: New Friends || 3.5k
you figure out why you're sick.
chapter two: A Confirmed Result || 5k
you're in denial.
chapter three: Tough Decision || 3.3k
things keep getting worse.
chapter four: Rewind || 11.7k
september-present of sirius's final year of hogwarts.
I'm so sorry everyone who's here for syatf, I'm not abandoning that series I PROMISE (!!!) but I am pausing writing it for the moment. I'm sorry but trust, it will so be worth it once I come back and write it with more motivation!! atm everything I write is shit and my heads all foggy, so even if I forced myself to write, it wouldn't be good😔😔
I have started a pitt SMAU, though, that hopefully I'll start posting soon😼😼 told purely through text messages, so it doesn't take up too much of my brain power :')
do we prefer shorter chapters but more frequent updates, or longer and less frequent?
what do you prefer?
shorter chapters (2-4k words) and quicker updates
longer chapters (5-8k+ words) but slower updates
Voting ended onMay 24
if a chapter needs to be long, I'll make it long, but I'm just wondering about the ones that COULD be split. like an 8k chapter that could be split 3k + 5k. because I realise updates are taking me longer now... PLS TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS
summary: you have talks about the future with different people.
content warnings: very VERY brief implied suicidal ideation (honestly i blame noah's new album), kind of conservative views about marriage+pregnancy
wc: 5k
a/n: thank you for all the love on the previous parts!! it really means a lot. unfortunately I think updates may take longer now, but I'm going as fast as I can!!! love yall
first part prev part next part series m.list
Pomfrey is very relieved when you turn up in the infirmary. Apparently, no one knew where you were until Regulus told them yesterday. Oops.
After informing her of your decision not to go through with the abortion, she gave you a long chat about what to expect in the upcoming weeks of your pregnancy, and you arranged to go back to see her in just over two weeks for your twelve week scan. She did a quick ultrasound to check everything was a-okay, and sent you on your way just in time for your next class.
By the end of the day, your bag is heavy with catch-up work and you have no idea when you'll get a chance to get all of it done. But you know you will, because you have to. Who needs sleep, anyway? You drop everything back in Regulus's dorm, and then head down to the kitchens for dinner.
A nice house elf called Tolly has been giving you dinner when you come to the kitchens, because the dining hall is too much for you and your pregnancy nose at the moment. She's very attentive, always offering up a new dish if one, out of the blue, makes you sick. She also never lets you thank her properly, which is rather annoying, but you're endlessly grateful despite it.
This evening, you have mashed potatoes and a jug of gravy to add however generously you'd like. You make a crater in the middle of the mashed potatoes, and pour on the gravy as if it's an erupting volcano. It brings a little joy to your otherwise boring meal, especially when it's all you've had for a week. You never thought you'd say it, but you're beginning to grow tired of potatoes. Tolly also gave you a small bowl with broccoli, because she knows and you know that a diet of majority potatoes is not healthy or sustainable. You sniff one of the florets tentatively, and when you don't feel a need to run straight to the bathroom, smile, exhaling a sigh of relief.
You can add broccoli to the lists of food you can eat. For now. Merlin knows it's always changing. This baby certainly likes to keep you on your toes.
When you're finished, you take your dirty dishes back to the kitchen for the house elves, and head back to Regulus’s dorm to collapse. You'll take a thirty minute nap, then get up and get some of your homework done. You have two days before you start work at the Three Broomsticks's, and if it goes well, you'll be working Saturday and Sunday too. You can't rely on weekends to do homework anymore, knowing they'll probably be late nights where you just want to sleep afterwards. Talking to people makes you exhausted, and you assume being a bartender is quite a talk-to-people job. As in, that's the whole job. Sure, you make people's drinks, but anyone can make a good drink. You need to get people to like you so they tip you, and people won't tip someone they've hardly said two words to.
When you turn onto the corridor with the entrance to the common room, you're already half asleep, picturing your bed, dreaming about it, which is probably why you don't see them. Not until it's too late.
“Hey,” the fucking idiot, fucking audacity-having nap-interrupting idiot says. The nerve on this guy. It's bouncing off him in waves.
You also don't notice the group of people hanging about nearby, until you reply, “are you here to call me a slut again?” and are met with a crowd of ooooh's and oh shit's. There's a stand out, “Sirius Orion Black!” but you aren't sure who said it.
You don't stop to talk to him, and he follows you in the direction of the entrance.
“Now– I never called you a slut. I didn't say that. I don't think you're a…slut.”
The portrait is in front of you now, and you open it, pausing to look back at him. As you do, you begin to lose some of your willpower. He's got a crease between his eyebrows and is frowning, eyes full of genuine apology. But you won't fall for it, no matter how tired you are. Your dad's words ring in your head, and you shake it, remembering why you're mad in the first place.
“You said everything but the word. Do you want a medal?”
Before he has a chance to defend himself further, you step through the portrait and into the common room, slamming it shut in Sirius's face. You're too sleepy for this.
You will talk to him eventually—you're not so delusional that you believe you can avoid him forever—but can you at least have a nap first? Is that too much to ask?
The rest of the week, Sirius leaves you alone. Which you're glad for, because you have enough going on; he barely even crosses your mind. Only when it's nearly 12 at night, and you're doing homework, trying to think of other things you could be doing. Things like sleep, that's a big one.
But also things like preparing what you're going to say to Sirius, if you want to send a letter or say it in person. Actually, you want to send a letter, but feel morally obligated to say it in person. You haven't decided yet—you usually get frustrated and gain a new energy to speed through your homework instead.
But the lack of sleep is beginning to get to you. You go to sleep past midnight most days, due to catching up on school, only to be pulled out of bed before seven a.m. to throw up. Which usually leads to you going back to sleep and missing more lessons, which means you have more work to catch up on, which means you stay up later, and it's a vicious, vicious cycle.
Fuck sending Sirius a letter, you want to murder him for doing this to you.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
It's Saturday morning. Or, maybe it's afternoon now. That's the beautiful thing about Saturdays, you don't have to keep track of time and can stay in bed as long as you want. You had your first shift last night, and it went well, and you have another this evening, but until five p.m. you're a free woman. And you're acting like it.
“Don't you have something to do today?” You hear Regulus ask from his bed across the room. “I thought you had a ton of homework.”
Since you got back in bed this morning after the sickness passed, you haven't moved an inch. The curtains are still drawn around your bed, which is good because you had to take your night shirt off after getting a bit of throw up on it, and you hadn't bothered to put on another one, the blanket keeping you warm enough. You suspect Regulus wouldn't appreciate the view. Only a sliver of sunlight shines through, where you'd drawn them ever so slightly so that you can watch outside the window while continuing to lie in bed. There's the perfect view of a tree right outside, and for a while you watched a family of birds. Spring is just the best.
You thought it would make you feel better, but you still feel off. You woke up feeling off. It's unclear whether it's because you haven't been getting enough sleep, because you feel sick, or simply just because. It could be another fun pregnancy thing that can't be explained further than "you're growing a human inside you.” But you're not feeling yourself today, and so you have no desire to get out of bed until you have to.
“Meh,” you reply to Regulus. “You're the one who hasn't left his bed all week, at least give me a couple hours.”
“At least I have a reason.”
That you won't tell me. You go silent, and the room returns to how it's been for the entire morning. It's peace, but the peace crackles and buzzes occasionally with unsaid words and feelings. You know Regulus has a lot on his mind at the moment, you also know it's extremely unlikely he'll tell you any of it. That's okay with you. You don't want to force him, and sometimes distraction is the best comfort you can give somebody. If he needs to talk, he knows where to find you. Literally two metres from his bed.
Unable to help yourself, the thought having popped into your head as you were walking home last night and never left, you say, “I think…If, in January, if I died in January, I don't think anyone would've cared.”
You don't regularly think about death. Not any more, at least. Fourteen is a rough age for everyone. But recently for some strange reason—feels like that's how everything is, these days—your mind has been taking you to those places.
“I think if I died now no one would care,” comes Regulus's response. While you're stunned into silence, he adds, “Actually, my parents. They'd be mad that all their plans got messed up.”
He didn't mention Sirius. That's interesting. Maybe interesting isn't the right word, but you make a mental note that Regulus doesn't feel his older brother cares for him, so much so he wouldn't care if he died. It hurts your heart to think about, but when you remember your relationship with your sister, you decide you're not in any position to judge or make assumptions. It's just, now that you're closer to Regulus, you can see how much he probably needs someone like his brother.
“Their plans?” You question instead.
He's quiet for a moment. You hear the sound of sheets rustling, and then he says, “they want me to get married. The betrothal ceremony is this summer, the actual ceremony is next summer, supposedly.”
“Oh.” That's definitely not what you expected him to say. You sit up in bed, holding the blanket close to your chest even though the curtains mean he can't see you, and stare down, slightly horrified. “Arranged marriage?”
“To my cousin,” he answers, voice void of all emotion. It's hard for you to believe it.
“Wow, I– I didn't realise people still did that.”
“It's not common.” The words are stiff, and you can tell the lack of emotion isn't because he's apathetic to it all, but because of the very opposite.
You don't know much about arranged marriages at all, in fact you thought they weren't really a thing anymore by the start of the 20th Century. Maybe witches and wizards do things differently, and are a bit behind the times. To be honest, you mostly thought they were between barely legal girls and much older men, usually for business or money reasons unless you were the royal family. But Regulus, he isn't even eighteen yet.
You sigh, exhaling the weight of your feelings. “Oh, Regulus.” The wooden floor is cold under your feet as you slide into some clothes you find on the floor by your bed and go to kneel by his, where the opening in his curtains is. “So are you gonna run away to France or something?”
He's lying on his side, his face resting on his hand on the pillow. His eyebrows furrow. “What?”
“Well, how are you going to get out of it? I'm assuming you don't want to marry your cousin.”
“Of course not.” He pauses, but you can tell he's not finished. “I don't know what I'm going to do. I was half considering buying a rope.”
You swallow, biting the inside of your lips and taking a deep breath to hide the hurt you feel at his words. Not just because he's a person, and of course you wouldn't want a person to feel that way, but…because it's Regulus. Where are you going to find another loser who dresses like a vampire from the 1800s and makes fun of you and yet still tolerates your company?
He's also clever. And good, genuinely good, at his heart… The world deserves to know him, you think.
“Joke,” he says before you can come up with a response.
“Oh yeah, I'm laughing my socks off.” You pause. “I know it might not mean a lot coming from me, but for what it's worth, I would…care. Definitely.”
Subtly, his expression changes. Tightens. “I'm sure they'll let you stay here still.”
You're taken off guard for a moment, puzzled by what he said and what it means. Then it hits you. “No, no! I don't care about that, I'll leave now if you want me to, if you don't believe me.” Though you secretly hope he won't make you leave, extremely unwilling to go grovelling back to your old roommates. “I meant– I mean, you're my kid's uncle. Even without Sirius, you were there when I found out. I think that's pretty binding.”
He stares, half his face mushed from where he's lying on it. “That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. That's not a thing.”
“How would you know? Are you a pregnancy expert?”
He props himself up on his elbow. “No, but–”
“Well I am, and I say it's a thing.”
His eyebrows raise. “You're an expert?”
“Which one of us has a person growing inside their uterus, me or you?”
“I don't have–”
You stand, laughing, and shake out your legs to get the blood flowing again. “Do you always have to be right?”
“I am always right, it happens naturally.”
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Monday comes around all too quickly. You're beginning to get into a rhythm at work, and by Sunday you hardly needed any help regarding what goes in a certain drink, etc. Your boss even said well done when you left for the night, your final shift of the weekend. That had you smiling halfway back to the castle.
But now it's Monday, and you have classes again, which means more homework. You're thinking about said homework, sitting in a random hallway on the ground eating your lunch when the head of Gryffindor approaches you. You had originally planned to eat your lunch in an empty classroom and get some work done simultaneously, but your limbs started to drag and your head got heavy, and it was just easier to sit down where you were.
“Hello, miss y/l/n, are you alright?”
You stare up at the professor. You haven't had McGonagall for any of your classes since fifth year, and you're slightly scared of her. You know she's one for rules, and being a slytherin yourself, the so called ‘enemy’ of Gryffindor, you figure you were doomed from first year to never be one of her favourites. Or even one of her liked students.
“Oh, yes, I'm totally fine. I'm sorry, I'll get up in a minute, I just needed to sit for a second.”
She looks back at you with that neutral expression she usually has on her face. It's difficult to tell if she's telling you off for sitting in a random hallway or not. You don't know if you could stand up yet.
“No rush, dear. I understand. I was just wondering if you could pop by my office after classes for a chat.”
“A chat with you?” you ask incredulously.
“Myself and Poppy Pomfrey. Will that be a problem?”
“No! No, not at all. I was just checking.” You can feel your cheeks warming. “I'll, uh, see you after classes.”
She nods, expression still giving nothing away, and turns on her heel. “Good afternoon, miss y/l/n.”
You return the sentiment, but she's already rounded the corner. Well, fuck. Now you're going to be stressed all afternoon.
Once your last class is over, you head over to the gryffindor corner of the castle as agreed. You have to hype yourself up just to knock, reminding yourself that she asked you to go and see her, and you're not bothering her. But what if she didn't? What if it was a weird dream? You shake those thoughts out of your head and step back, waiting to be told where to go from here.
“Come in.”
When you're inside, it doesn't calm your nerves much. Pomfrey is here, like McGonagall said earlier, sitting across from the head of Gryffindor in one of the two chairs across from her desk. Between them, on said desk, is a tea pot with three cups—proper tea cups, with saucers and everything—and a plate with a neat array of biscuits. This, thankfully, does calm your nerves. Would there be biscuits if you were in trouble? Maybe. But you're choosing to believe otherwise.
McGonagall insists for you to take a seat in the chair next to Pomfrey's, and the doctor smiles kindly at you as you settle yourself.
“So, miss y/l/n.” She slides her tea cup and saucer to the side to make room for some papers, looking down at them through the glasses on the tip of her nose. “Madam Pomfrey has made me aware of your situation. As I'm sure you know, all of your teachers have been notified for safeguarding reasons. How are you feeling today?”
“Um, okay thanks.”
“Well, I'm glad. We just wanted to have a chat about your class schedule. I believe you would benefit from switching arithmancy and charms classes. At least, those were the ones that had open spots at later times. How does that sound?”
“I'm not sure I follow.”
She goes on to explain how they've noticed that it's been difficult for you to make it to your morning classes recently, and by switching you'd get rid of some free periods, but it would mean you'd be able to attend most of your classes. It sounds like a good idea, and hopefully it'll mean your pile of catch-up work gets a little smaller. Or maybe just that it won't get any bigger, that's all you can hope for.
After explaining how everything will work, and giving you your new time table, McGonagall asks you, “What are you hoping to do after school's over?”
Good, finally a question you're prepared for. “Oh, my dad's always wanted me to be a doctor. Or, healer. Doctor's the muggle version, sorry.”
“And is that what you want?” Pomfrey says, turning to you.
“Of course.” You smile politely, tilting your head slightly in confusion. “Is that not what I said?”
“You said your dad wanted it, my dear.” She holds her hands up briefly, showing you she means no ill intent. “Just wanted to check. Being a healer is tough work, even some of the best nurses I know struggle. It's a horrible profession if you're not cut out for it.”
“I just want to help people,” you offer. “My dad's encouraging, is all. We both want me to be a healer.” Though at the moment he won't talk to you. You wonder what the future of your relationship looks like, if he'll even be around when you finally get the job you've been working towards since fifteen years old.
Pomfrey smiles at you kindly. “That's lovely. I might be able to speak to some colleagues at St Mungo's, too, I'll tell them to look out for a conscientious, dedicated young woman called y/n y/l/n.”
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
While everyone else is eating in the dining hall Wednesday night, you decide to get some time in the library while it's quiet. You're not hungry, and you have a pile of homework up to your waist, so it was an easy switch off, homework instead of dinner. But it turns out you're not as alone as you thought.
Something light yet definitely solid flies into the side of your head, bouncing off to flitter down until it lands next to where your forearm is resting on the textbook.
“The fuck?” you say to yourself, not registering the company yet. You study the object that flew into you. And when you say flew, you mean it literally, because it's a piece of parchment folded into an aeroplane. Sighing, you look up for the first time that hour and search the nearby shelves for the culprit. He can never do anything the bloody normal way.
The table you're sitting at is long and narrow, pressed right up against the bookshelf so that you can only sit on one side, and you're sitting across from books. It goes on for eight chairs, and then there's a break in the aisle, before it repeats on the other side. Sirius is sitting on the first chair on the other side, giving you space but making his presence known and impossible to ignore, despite the fact he's very pointedly looking down. A huge, thick book lies on the table in front of him which he studies intensely, muttering under his breath and nodding to really sell it.
You laugh disbelievingly under your breath, waiting for him to look up and acknowledge you. When he doesn't, you unfold the aeroplane and read what he's written.
I'm sorry.
Just two simple words.
You look back at him, wondering if he'll look at you now, but he's still pretending to read.
Alright, you guess you're really doing this. At least it's sort of how you'd wanted to have this conversation, not quite a letter, but you have more time to think of a response than you would with a conversation.
for…
you write back, and smirk as you send it back to his side. Maybe it's the little sister in you, but you always get a bit of a kick out of being a nuisance. In certain circumstances, at least, and this is definitely one of them.
You hear him laugh slightly when he reads it, and it makes your smirk widen into a grin. Two minutes later, the aeroplane returns.
For being a dick and accusing you of sleeping with my brother.
you reply,
yeah that was pretty fucked.
He takes longer to write back this time, and you're shifting in your seat as you wait, but realise why when you unfold the aeroplane a third time.
I know you didn't. I think. I'm sorry, I don't know why I got so mad that day, I was just in shock I guess. Can you forgive me so we can forget about it now :-(
Can you forgive him? You're not sure.
I'm always going to think you see me as a slut now.
You decide that his honesty deserves some of your own. It's much easier to admit on the piece of paper than it would be for you to say out loud. You don't think you'd ever say something like that, especially to someone you're not close to like Sirius. You continue,
But that's my problem to get over, and I suppose we're stuck with each other now, so there's no use in holding grudges. I forgive you.
This time when you send the aeroplane off, you stare at your fingernails, nervously waiting for his response. But he switches his pattern, too. “I don't think you're a slut!” his voice makes you jump in the quiet library. You look up to see him already looking at you, that same hurt look in his eyes as a few nights ago in front of the common room entrance. “I never said that!”
“We're in a library, lower your voice.”
“What will it take for you to believe me?”
Silently, you hold your palm flat and pretend to be holding a pen with the other, motioning for him to write down what he wants to say instead. He sighs, but complies, until about a minute later he's speaking again.
“Wait, what do you mean we're stuck with each other?” he says, alarmed. He suddenly sits straighter. “Wait. Wait, are you still pregnant? Wait.” He stands, running a hand through his hair, before sitting back down. After a tense moment, he looks back at you, a soft wrinkle between his brows. “Are you keeping it?”
You bite the inside of your lips, nodding hesitantly. You really would love to know where he keeps getting this information about you—how he knew you were pregnant in the first place, and then how on earth he knew you were planning to get rid of it. Maybe he assumed, but he seems awfully shocked for someone who was just guessing.
The chair slides back abruptly, bumping into the shelf behind, and before you know it you're looking up at him while he stands with his hands on the back of your chair.
“You're really keeping it? That's what you want?”
“It's what I want.” You nod, trying not to break eye contact, but it's very intense. “And I don't need you, but… obviously we can sort out some sort of co-parent situation, if that's what you want.”
“The fuck does that mean?”
“It means we didn't plan this, and I recognise that I was the one to make the choice to go through with this. So, take all the time you need, let me know your decision.”
“My decision?” He settles in the chair next to yours, turning to you with his fingers interlinked like he's in a business meeting. “No, no, I don't like what you're implying right now.”
You blink at him, quiet for a moment. “What am I implying?”
“That I'd abandon my kid. You know, I may not be the star student, I may have spent more Saturdays in detention than not this year, but that doesn't mean anything. And you have no right to judge me, you don't even know me.”
“I never said I did, Sirius.” It takes everything in you to be grown up and stay sitting there, instead of packing your books and bolting out of there like you so desperately want. You came here to study, not have important conversations. “I merely suggested you take a few days to yourself to think about what you want to do. Babies are forever, it will literally change the rest of your life. Until you die.”
“I know that,” he says flatly.
“Okay. Good.” You fiddle with your pencil, sighing deeply. “Still, taking some time– It can't hurt. I think it's important.”
“Maybe you needed some time, but I'm good. My mind is made up, it wasn't even a question.”
That sends a pang through your heart, throat going dry. Maybe you needed some time. Is that so bad? He said it so accusatory. But it's a big decision, of course you needed to think about it. And when you made the decision to get rid of it, you were doing what you thought was best for yourself and for the baby.
You had to make that call, because this is bigger than just you and your stupid decisions. You weren't happy about it, but you would've done it, because you had to.
And when you didn't go through with it, you still thought it through clearly, because though your circumstances had changed, that's only a small piece in a much bigger puzzle. You can't afford to be impulsive when it comes to something as big as children. Why doesn't Sirius see that? Why is he dogging on you for it?
“Okay.” You turn away from him, back to your books, mostly to hide your face and blink away tears without him seeing. Damn it, if you weren't pregnant there's no chance you'd feel like crying after something as little as that. Crying at the drop of a hat nowadays is so inconvenient. “Cool. I'm happy for you.”
“So I guess we have a lot to talk about.”
You don't look up. “We don't have to do that right now.” Is your polite way of saying leave me the fuck alone so I can cry.
Sirius leans back in his chair, pushing it to stand onto the back two legs before swinging forward again. You continue to ignore him, breathing deeply to calm yourself, but he either doesn't get the hint or doesn't give a shit. “S'pose we should get the wedding out the way first.”
You freeze, finally looking at him. “What wedding?”
He tilts his head, silently conveying isn't it obvious? Great, he thinks you're dumb now too. You guess you're just a dumb slut in his eyes. “Our wedding.”
“I don't seem to remember you asking.”
“We're having a baby.” He speaks slowly, like this is all common sense. You want to stamp on his foot again. “We have to get married if we're having a kid.”
Your heartbeat drums in your ears as you go still for a moment, blinking thoughtlessly at the bookshelf in front of you. What the actual fuck? “Wow, well, uh. As romantic as that is, truly, I think I might have to pass.”
Having Sirius's baby is one thing, being married to him is a whole other. You'd rather run away to a foreign country than spend the rest of your life married to Sirius Black. You'll keep it in mind as an option in case you end up in a tough situation you can't get yourself out of any other way. Merlin knows the Black family aren't above forcing people to get married. Maybe Regulus will let you go with him, wherever he ends up. You'd be running for the same reasons after all.
Your dad may have had questionable methods, but he'd sure done his job at raising an independent woman who won't need a husband. And just because you're having a child, it doesn't mean you should spend the rest of your life unhappy, with someone you don't love. That's not what's best for you, or for your baby. It's not like Sirius wants to marry you either, he's probably just doing what he thinks is the right thing, it's how he was raised.
Why couldn't you have been a normal teenage girl, and get knocked up by her boyfriend who she loves instead of…Sirius Black. Maybe it would be different if you were friends, but he made it perfectly clear in the new year that you aren't.
The start of your adult life is shaping up to be great!
end a/n: I really don't like reader's conversation with regulus...I'm tempted to re-write it but I know its already taken me 2 weeks to get this chapter out. let me know your thoughts, if people don't like it I may rewrite and edit😸😸
summary: you have talks about the future with different people.
content warnings: very VERY brief implied suicidal ideation (honestly i blame noah's new album), kind of conservative views about marriage+pregnancy
wc: 5k
a/n: thank you for all the love on the previous parts!! it really means a lot. unfortunately I think updates may take longer now, but I'm going as fast as I can!!! love yall
first part prev part next part series m.list
Pomfrey is very relieved when you turn up in the infirmary. Apparently, no one knew where you were until Regulus told them yesterday. Oops.
After informing her of your decision not to go through with the abortion, she gave you a long chat about what to expect in the upcoming weeks of your pregnancy, and you arranged to go back to see her in just over two weeks for your twelve week scan. She did a quick ultrasound to check everything was a-okay, and sent you on your way just in time for your next class.
By the end of the day, your bag is heavy with catch-up work and you have no idea when you'll get a chance to get all of it done. But you know you will, because you have to. Who needs sleep, anyway? You drop everything back in Regulus's dorm, and then head down to the kitchens for dinner.
A nice house elf called Tolly has been giving you dinner when you come to the kitchens, because the dining hall is too much for you and your pregnancy nose at the moment. She's very attentive, always offering up a new dish if one, out of the blue, makes you sick. She also never lets you thank her properly, which is rather annoying, but you're endlessly grateful despite it.
This evening, you have mashed potatoes and a jug of gravy to add however generously you'd like. You make a crater in the middle of the mashed potatoes, and pour on the gravy as if it's an erupting volcano. It brings a little joy to your otherwise boring meal, especially when it's all you've had for a week. You never thought you'd say it, but you're beginning to grow tired of potatoes. Tolly also gave you a small bowl with broccoli, because she knows and you know that a diet of majority potatoes is not healthy or sustainable. You sniff one of the florets tentatively, and when you don't feel a need to run straight to the bathroom, smile, exhaling a sigh of relief.
You can add broccoli to the lists of food you can eat. For now. Merlin knows it's always changing. This baby certainly likes to keep you on your toes.
When you're finished, you take your dirty dishes back to the kitchen for the house elves, and head back to Regulus’s dorm to collapse. You'll take a thirty minute nap, then get up and get some of your homework done. You have two days before you start work at the Three Broomsticks's, and if it goes well, you'll be working Saturday and Sunday too. You can't rely on weekends to do homework anymore, knowing they'll probably be late nights where you just want to sleep afterwards. Talking to people makes you exhausted, and you assume being a bartender is quite a talk-to-people job. As in, that's the whole job. Sure, you make people's drinks, but anyone can make a good drink. You need to get people to like you so they tip you, and people won't tip someone they've hardly said two words to.
When you turn onto the corridor with the entrance to the common room, you're already half asleep, picturing your bed, dreaming about it, which is probably why you don't see them. Not until it's too late.
“Hey,” the fucking idiot, fucking audacity-having nap-interrupting idiot says. The nerve on this guy. It's bouncing off him in waves.
You also don't notice the group of people hanging about nearby, until you reply, “are you here to call me a slut again?” and are met with a crowd of ooooh's and oh shit's. There's a stand out, “Sirius Orion Black!” but you aren't sure who said it.
You don't stop to talk to him, and he follows you in the direction of the entrance.
“Now– I never called you a slut. I didn't say that. I don't think you're a…slut.”
The portrait is in front of you now, and you open it, pausing to look back at him. As you do, you begin to lose some of your willpower. He's got a crease between his eyebrows and is frowning, eyes full of genuine apology. But you won't fall for it, no matter how tired you are. Your dad's words ring in your head, and you shake it, remembering why you're mad in the first place.
“You said everything but the word. Do you want a medal?”
Before he has a chance to defend himself further, you step through the portrait and into the common room, slamming it shut in Sirius's face. You're too sleepy for this.
You will talk to him eventually—you're not so delusional that you believe you can avoid him forever—but can you at least have a nap first? Is that too much to ask?
The rest of the week, Sirius leaves you alone. Which you're glad for, because you have enough going on; he barely even crosses your mind. Only when it's nearly 12 at night, and you're doing homework, trying to think of other things you could be doing. Things like sleep, that's a big one.
But also things like preparing what you're going to say to Sirius, if you want to send a letter or say it in person. Actually, you want to send a letter, but feel morally obligated to say it in person. You haven't decided yet—you usually get frustrated and gain a new energy to speed through your homework instead.
But the lack of sleep is beginning to get to you. You go to sleep past midnight most days, due to catching up on school, only to be pulled out of bed before seven a.m. to throw up. Which usually leads to you going back to sleep and missing more lessons, which means you have more work to catch up on, which means you stay up later, and it's a vicious, vicious cycle.
Fuck sending Sirius a letter, you want to murder him for doing this to you.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
It's Saturday morning. Or, maybe it's afternoon now. That's the beautiful thing about Saturdays, you don't have to keep track of time and can stay in bed as long as you want. You had your first shift last night, and it went well, and you have another this evening, but until five p.m. you're a free woman. And you're acting like it.
“Don't you have something to do today?” You hear Regulus ask from his bed across the room. “I thought you had a ton of homework.”
Since you got back in bed this morning after the sickness passed, you haven't moved an inch. The curtains are still drawn around your bed, which is good because you had to take your night shirt off after getting a bit of throw up on it, and you hadn't bothered to put on another one, the blanket keeping you warm enough. You suspect Regulus wouldn't appreciate the view. Only a sliver of sunlight shines through, where you'd drawn them ever so slightly so that you can watch outside the window while continuing to lie in bed. There's the perfect view of a tree right outside, and for a while you watched a family of birds. Spring is just the best.
You thought it would make you feel better, but you still feel off. You woke up feeling off. It's unclear whether it's because you haven't been getting enough sleep, because you feel sick, or simply just because. It could be another fun pregnancy thing that can't be explained further than "you're growing a human inside you.” But you're not feeling yourself today, and so you have no desire to get out of bed until you have to.
“Meh,” you reply to Regulus. “You're the one who hasn't left his bed all week, at least give me a couple hours.”
“At least I have a reason.”
That you won't tell me. You go silent, and the room returns to how it's been for the entire morning. It's peace, but the peace crackles and buzzes occasionally with unsaid words and feelings. You know Regulus has a lot on his mind at the moment, you also know it's extremely unlikely he'll tell you any of it. That's okay with you. You don't want to force him, and sometimes distraction is the best comfort you can give somebody. If he needs to talk, he knows where to find you. Literally two metres from his bed.
Unable to help yourself, the thought having popped into your head as you were walking home last night and never left, you say, “I think…If, in January, if I died in January, I don't think anyone would've cared.”
You don't regularly think about death. Not any more, at least. Fourteen is a rough age for everyone. But recently for some strange reason—feels like that's how everything is, these days—your mind has been taking you to those places.
“I think if I died now no one would care,” comes Regulus's response. While you're stunned into silence, he adds, “Actually, my parents. They'd be mad that all their plans got messed up.”
He didn't mention Sirius. That's interesting. Maybe interesting isn't the right word, but you make a mental note that Regulus doesn't feel his older brother cares for him, so much so he wouldn't care if he died. It hurts your heart to think about, but when you remember your relationship with your sister, you decide you're not in any position to judge or make assumptions. It's just, now that you're closer to Regulus, you can see how much he probably needs someone like his brother.
“Their plans?” You question instead.
He's quiet for a moment. You hear the sound of sheets rustling, and then he says, “they want me to get married. The betrothal ceremony is this summer, the actual ceremony is next summer, supposedly.”
“Oh.” That's definitely not what you expected him to say. You sit up in bed, holding the blanket close to your chest even though the curtains mean he can't see you, and stare down, slightly horrified. “Arranged marriage?”
“To my cousin,” he answers, voice void of all emotion. It's hard for you to believe it.
“Wow, I– I didn't realise people still did that.”
“It's not common.” The words are stiff, and you can tell the lack of emotion isn't because he's apathetic to it all, but because of the very opposite.
You don't know much about arranged marriages at all, in fact you thought they weren't really a thing anymore by the start of the 20th Century. Maybe witches and wizards do things differently, and are a bit behind the times. To be honest, you mostly thought they were between barely legal girls and much older men, usually for business or money reasons unless you were the royal family. But Regulus, he isn't even eighteen yet.
You sigh, exhaling the weight of your feelings. “Oh, Regulus.” The wooden floor is cold under your feet as you slide into some clothes you find on the floor by your bed and go to kneel by his, where the opening in his curtains is. “So are you gonna run away to France or something?”
He's lying on his side, his face resting on his hand on the pillow. His eyebrows furrow. “What?”
“Well, how are you going to get out of it? I'm assuming you don't want to marry your cousin.”
“Of course not.” He pauses, but you can tell he's not finished. “I don't know what I'm going to do. I was half considering buying a rope.”
You swallow, biting the inside of your lips and taking a deep breath to hide the hurt you feel at his words. Not just because he's a person, and of course you wouldn't want a person to feel that way, but…because it's Regulus. Where are you going to find another loser who dresses like a vampire from the 1800s and makes fun of you and yet still tolerates your company?
He's also clever. And good, genuinely good, at his heart… The world deserves to know him, you think.
“Joke,” he says before you can come up with a response.
“Oh yeah, I'm laughing my socks off.” You pause. “I know it might not mean a lot coming from me, but for what it's worth, I would…care. Definitely.”
Subtly, his expression changes. Tightens. “I'm sure they'll let you stay here still.”
You're taken off guard for a moment, puzzled by what he said and what it means. Then it hits you. “No, no! I don't care about that, I'll leave now if you want me to, if you don't believe me.” Though you secretly hope he won't make you leave, extremely unwilling to go grovelling back to your old roommates. “I meant– I mean, you're my kid's uncle. Even without Sirius, you were there when I found out. I think that's pretty binding.”
He stares, half his face mushed from where he's lying on it. “That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. That's not a thing.”
“How would you know? Are you a pregnancy expert?”
He props himself up on his elbow. “No, but–”
“Well I am, and I say it's a thing.”
His eyebrows raise. “You're an expert?”
“Which one of us has a person growing inside their uterus, me or you?”
“I don't have–”
You stand, laughing, and shake out your legs to get the blood flowing again. “Do you always have to be right?”
“I am always right, it happens naturally.”
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Monday comes around all too quickly. You're beginning to get into a rhythm at work, and by Sunday you hardly needed any help regarding what goes in a certain drink, etc. Your boss even said well done when you left for the night, your final shift of the weekend. That had you smiling halfway back to the castle.
But now it's Monday, and you have classes again, which means more homework. You're thinking about said homework, sitting in a random hallway on the ground eating your lunch when the head of Gryffindor approaches you. You had originally planned to eat your lunch in an empty classroom and get some work done simultaneously, but your limbs started to drag and your head got heavy, and it was just easier to sit down where you were.
“Hello, miss y/l/n, are you alright?”
You stare up at the professor. You haven't had McGonagall for any of your classes since fifth year, and you're slightly scared of her. You know she's one for rules, and being a slytherin yourself, the so called ‘enemy’ of Gryffindor, you figure you were doomed from first year to never be one of her favourites. Or even one of her liked students.
“Oh, yes, I'm totally fine. I'm sorry, I'll get up in a minute, I just needed to sit for a second.”
She looks back at you with that neutral expression she usually has on her face. It's difficult to tell if she's telling you off for sitting in a random hallway or not. You don't know if you could stand up yet.
“No rush, dear. I understand. I was just wondering if you could pop by my office after classes for a chat.”
“A chat with you?” you ask incredulously.
“Myself and Poppy Pomfrey. Will that be a problem?”
“No! No, not at all. I was just checking.” You can feel your cheeks warming. “I'll, uh, see you after classes.”
She nods, expression still giving nothing away, and turns on her heel. “Good afternoon, miss y/l/n.”
You return the sentiment, but she's already rounded the corner. Well, fuck. Now you're going to be stressed all afternoon.
Once your last class is over, you head over to the gryffindor corner of the castle as agreed. You have to hype yourself up just to knock, reminding yourself that she asked you to go and see her, and you're not bothering her. But what if she didn't? What if it was a weird dream? You shake those thoughts out of your head and step back, waiting to be told where to go from here.
“Come in.”
When you're inside, it doesn't calm your nerves much. Pomfrey is here, like McGonagall said earlier, sitting across from the head of Gryffindor in one of the two chairs across from her desk. Between them, on said desk, is a tea pot with three cups—proper tea cups, with saucers and everything—and a plate with a neat array of biscuits. This, thankfully, does calm your nerves. Would there be biscuits if you were in trouble? Maybe. But you're choosing to believe otherwise.
McGonagall insists for you to take a seat in the chair next to Pomfrey's, and the doctor smiles kindly at you as you settle yourself.
“So, miss y/l/n.” She slides her tea cup and saucer to the side to make room for some papers, looking down at them through the glasses on the tip of her nose. “Madam Pomfrey has made me aware of your situation. As I'm sure you know, all of your teachers have been notified for safeguarding reasons. How are you feeling today?”
“Um, okay thanks.”
“Well, I'm glad. We just wanted to have a chat about your class schedule. I believe you would benefit from switching arithmancy and charms classes. At least, those were the ones that had open spots at later times. How does that sound?”
“I'm not sure I follow.”
She goes on to explain how they've noticed that it's been difficult for you to make it to your morning classes recently, and by switching you'd get rid of some free periods, but it would mean you'd be able to attend most of your classes. It sounds like a good idea, and hopefully it'll mean your pile of catch-up work gets a little smaller. Or maybe just that it won't get any bigger, that's all you can hope for.
After explaining how everything will work, and giving you your new time table, McGonagall asks you, “What are you hoping to do after school's over?”
Good, finally a question you're prepared for. “Oh, my dad's always wanted me to be a doctor. Or, healer. Doctor's the muggle version, sorry.”
“And is that what you want?” Pomfrey says, turning to you.
“Of course.” You smile politely, tilting your head slightly in confusion. “Is that not what I said?”
“You said your dad wanted it, my dear.” She holds her hands up briefly, showing you she means no ill intent. “Just wanted to check. Being a healer is tough work, even some of the best nurses I know struggle. It's a horrible profession if you're not cut out for it.”
“I just want to help people,” you offer. “My dad's encouraging, is all. We both want me to be a healer.” Though at the moment he won't talk to you. You wonder what the future of your relationship looks like, if he'll even be around when you finally get the job you've been working towards since fifteen years old.
Pomfrey smiles at you kindly. “That's lovely. I might be able to speak to some colleagues at St Mungo's, too, I'll tell them to look out for a conscientious, dedicated young woman called y/n y/l/n.”
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
While everyone else is eating in the dining hall Wednesday night, you decide to get some time in the library while it's quiet. You're not hungry, and you have a pile of homework up to your waist, so it was an easy switch off, homework instead of dinner. But it turns out you're not as alone as you thought.
Something light yet definitely solid flies into the side of your head, bouncing off to flitter down until it lands next to where your forearm is resting on the textbook.
“The fuck?” you say to yourself, not registering the company yet. You study the object that flew into you. And when you say flew, you mean it literally, because it's a piece of parchment folded into an aeroplane. Sighing, you look up for the first time that hour and search the nearby shelves for the culprit. He can never do anything the bloody normal way.
The table you're sitting at is long and narrow, pressed right up against the bookshelf so that you can only sit on one side, and you're sitting across from books. It goes on for eight chairs, and then there's a break in the aisle, before it repeats on the other side. Sirius is sitting on the first chair on the other side, giving you space but making his presence known and impossible to ignore, despite the fact he's very pointedly looking down. A huge, thick book lies on the table in front of him which he studies intensely, muttering under his breath and nodding to really sell it.
You laugh disbelievingly under your breath, waiting for him to look up and acknowledge you. When he doesn't, you unfold the aeroplane and read what he's written.
I'm sorry.
Just two simple words.
You look back at him, wondering if he'll look at you now, but he's still pretending to read.
Alright, you guess you're really doing this. At least it's sort of how you'd wanted to have this conversation, not quite a letter, but you have more time to think of a response than you would with a conversation.
for…
you write back, and smirk as you send it back to his side. Maybe it's the little sister in you, but you always get a bit of a kick out of being a nuisance. In certain circumstances, at least, and this is definitely one of them.
You hear him laugh slightly when he reads it, and it makes your smirk widen into a grin. Two minutes later, the aeroplane returns.
For being a dick and accusing you of sleeping with my brother.
you reply,
yeah that was pretty fucked.
He takes longer to write back this time, and you're shifting in your seat as you wait, but realise why when you unfold the aeroplane a third time.
I know you didn't. I think. I'm sorry, I don't know why I got so mad that day, I was just in shock I guess. Can you forgive me so we can forget about it now :-(
Can you forgive him? You're not sure.
I'm always going to think you see me as a slut now.
You decide that his honesty deserves some of your own. It's much easier to admit on the piece of paper than it would be for you to say out loud. You don't think you'd ever say something like that, especially to someone you're not close to like Sirius. You continue,
But that's my problem to get over, and I suppose we're stuck with each other now, so there's no use in holding grudges. I forgive you.
This time when you send the aeroplane off, you stare at your fingernails, nervously waiting for his response. But he switches his pattern, too. “I don't think you're a slut!” his voice makes you jump in the quiet library. You look up to see him already looking at you, that same hurt look in his eyes as a few nights ago in front of the common room entrance. “I never said that!”
“We're in a library, lower your voice.”
“What will it take for you to believe me?”
Silently, you hold your palm flat and pretend to be holding a pen with the other, motioning for him to write down what he wants to say instead. He sighs, but complies, until about a minute later he's speaking again.
“Wait, what do you mean we're stuck with each other?” he says, alarmed. He suddenly sits straighter. “Wait. Wait, are you still pregnant? Wait.” He stands, running a hand through his hair, before sitting back down. After a tense moment, he looks back at you, a soft wrinkle between his brows. “Are you keeping it?”
You bite the inside of your lips, nodding hesitantly. You really would love to know where he keeps getting this information about you—how he knew you were pregnant in the first place, and then how on earth he knew you were planning to get rid of it. Maybe he assumed, but he seems awfully shocked for someone who was just guessing.
The chair slides back abruptly, bumping into the shelf behind, and before you know it you're looking up at him while he stands with his hands on the back of your chair.
“You're really keeping it? That's what you want?”
“It's what I want.” You nod, trying not to break eye contact, but it's very intense. “And I don't need you, but… obviously we can sort out some sort of co-parent situation, if that's what you want.”
“The fuck does that mean?”
“It means we didn't plan this, and I recognise that I was the one to make the choice to go through with this. So, take all the time you need, let me know your decision.”
“My decision?” He settles in the chair next to yours, turning to you with his fingers interlinked like he's in a business meeting. “No, no, I don't like what you're implying right now.”
You blink at him, quiet for a moment. “What am I implying?”
“That I'd abandon my kid. You know, I may not be the star student, I may have spent more Saturdays in detention than not this year, but that doesn't mean anything. And you have no right to judge me, you don't even know me.”
“I never said I did, Sirius.” It takes everything in you to be grown up and stay sitting there, instead of packing your books and bolting out of there like you so desperately want. You came here to study, not have important conversations. “I merely suggested you take a few days to yourself to think about what you want to do. Babies are forever, it will literally change the rest of your life. Until you die.”
“I know that,” he says flatly.
“Okay. Good.” You fiddle with your pencil, sighing deeply. “Still, taking some time– It can't hurt. I think it's important.”
“Maybe you needed some time, but I'm good. My mind is made up, it wasn't even a question.”
That sends a pang through your heart, throat going dry. Maybe you needed some time. Is that so bad? He said it so accusatory. But it's a big decision, of course you needed to think about it. And when you made the decision to get rid of it, you were doing what you thought was best for yourself and for the baby.
You had to make that call, because this is bigger than just you and your stupid decisions. You weren't happy about it, but you would've done it, because you had to.
And when you didn't go through with it, you still thought it through clearly, because though your circumstances had changed, that's only a small piece in a much bigger puzzle. You can't afford to be impulsive when it comes to something as big as children. Why doesn't Sirius see that? Why is he dogging on you for it?
“Okay.” You turn away from him, back to your books, mostly to hide your face and blink away tears without him seeing. Damn it, if you weren't pregnant there's no chance you'd feel like crying after something as little as that. Crying at the drop of a hat nowadays is so inconvenient. “Cool. I'm happy for you.”
“So I guess we have a lot to talk about.”
You don't look up. “We don't have to do that right now.” Is your polite way of saying leave me the fuck alone so I can cry.
Sirius leans back in his chair, pushing it to stand onto the back two legs before swinging forward again. You continue to ignore him, breathing deeply to calm yourself, but he either doesn't get the hint or doesn't give a shit. “S'pose we should get the wedding out the way first.”
You freeze, finally looking at him. “What wedding?”
He tilts his head, silently conveying isn't it obvious? Great, he thinks you're dumb now too. You guess you're just a dumb slut in his eyes. “Our wedding.”
“I don't seem to remember you asking.”
“We're having a baby.” He speaks slowly, like this is all common sense. You want to stamp on his foot again. “We have to get married if we're having a kid.”
Your heartbeat drums in your ears as you go still for a moment, blinking thoughtlessly at the bookshelf in front of you. What the actual fuck? “Wow, well, uh. As romantic as that is, truly, I think I might have to pass.”
Having Sirius's baby is one thing, being married to him is a whole other. You'd rather run away to a foreign country than spend the rest of your life married to Sirius Black. You'll keep it in mind as an option in case you end up in a tough situation you can't get yourself out of any other way. Merlin knows the Black family aren't above forcing people to get married. Maybe Regulus will let you go with him, wherever he ends up. You'd be running for the same reasons after all.
Your dad may have had questionable methods, but he'd sure done his job at raising an independent woman who won't need a husband. And just because you're having a child, it doesn't mean you should spend the rest of your life unhappy, with someone you don't love. That's not what's best for you, or for your baby. It's not like Sirius wants to marry you either, he's probably just doing what he thinks is the right thing, it's how he was raised.
Why couldn't you have been a normal teenage girl, and get knocked up by her boyfriend who she loves instead of…Sirius Black. Maybe it would be different if you were friends, but he made it perfectly clear in the new year that you aren't.
The start of your adult life is shaping up to be great!
end a/n: I really don't like reader's conversation with regulus...I'm tempted to re-write it but I know its already taken me 2 weeks to get this chapter out. let me know your thoughts, if people don't like it I may rewrite and edit😸😸
when you're trying to be somewhat canon accurate and so looking through the official websites and you realise how bad the og world building truly was😭 lordy lord
You stand there like a lemon, staring at him in disbelief. Of course, you'd thought about this happening. Pictured it in your mind while you were supposedly studying or reading or falling asleep. It never ended well.
To be fair, you don't think you know Sirius enough to accurately predict how he'd act or what he'd say, and that throws the whole scenario off.
You thought you'd have time until you had to face the real thing. You thought you could write a polite, carefully thought out and detailed letter.
Now, he's put you in a very uncomfortable position, and you can't even blame him for it. You only have yourself to blame.
“Did Regulus tell you?” you say. It's a genuinely idiotic response, but it's all you can get out.
A crease appears between his eyebrows, and he seems to consider coming closer, even taking a step, but he quickly steps right back again and runs a furious hand through his long hair. “You fucking told Regulus,” he says. Well, at least you know it wasn't him now. “You told Reg– Who even is he to you? What, you've fucked? Is he your boyfriend? You couldn't have one Black brother so you go for the other one, is that it? Tell you what, who's better?”
For a moment, you're still. Speechless. Horrified that Sirius would say such things, an ice cold bucket of water reminder that you really don't know this man. Maybe you thought you did, but you'd been naive to think that being without clothes is as vulnerable as a person gets. Naive and so wrong.
Your eyes search for a way to leave without having to go past Sirius, and come up short. You bite the bullet, heading towards the clearing and stopping when your shoulder aligns with his.
He has his head turned, looking at you with squinted eyes.
“We can have this conversation,” you say, voice even and calm. “That's fine. Needed, even. But you need to chill the fuck out before you speak to me like that.”
You aren't in the mood to have a screaming match. You're also not in the mood to be implicitly called a slut. How could he say that about his own brother, too? Disgusting.
“Hey!” calls Sirius, but you don't look back. “I'm sorry, did I hit a nerve? You can't walk away from me.” Leaves rustle and twigs snap under his feet as he follows after you. “You're just mad cause I caught you. Is the baby even mine? Do you even know, or were you too busy fucking both of us? Don't hurt him, y/n. He's not like me, he's sensitive. Are you just doing it to fuck with me? Do you even like him?”
You stop, turning abruptly. Before you can register what you're doing, your hand is meeting the side of his face with a rough smack.
“You absolute!” You stamp on his foot now. That one's for Regulus. “Absolute arsehole! I don't know how you found out, but you can forget all about it!” You fight the urge to knee him in the crotch and settle for a kick in the shin. He groans and hunches over. “You're such a– fucking prick! Now sod off, and don't speak to me until you've grown up.”
He stands there, rubbing his face almost in disbelief, and watches you go. “Dramatic much?” you hear him mumble. Then, “Oww-uh.”
It's always hard, when men remind you why you don't date or—usually—get involved with them intimately. You make it to the castle before you let out the first sob. Your hormones being all out of whack probably isn't helping the situation. You dip into the first girls’ toilets you see, taking refuge in there to cry on a closed toilet lid like you're back in first year, or something. It's oddly deja vu inducing.
Talking to Sirius brings up all the angers from your not-relationship that you'd spent most of January angrily journalling about. When he'd been nice, teasing, and even gentle with you but then he ended it out of nowhere. Said he likes someone else. And then he never spoke to you again. You couldn't be mad at him for calling it off, if he didn't want you anymore, he didn't want you. It was simple, and though it hurt slightly, you appreciated his honesty.
But you'd been beginning to think you were getting along quite well, and the fact that a man could be treating you how he was, while also liking another person…That was the bit that got you. And it was so sudden, he hadn't mentioned anyone or anything even hinting to it before then.
You weren't mad at him for liking someone else, you weren't mad at him at all, really. You were confused and hurt, and it was the first time you'd had a relationship like that with a guy.
The worst part was, in the back of your mind, your dad's voice was on repeat.
“Boys will pretend to be nice to you to get under your skirt,” he'd said. “You mustn't fall for it. To them, you're just a few body parts. Remember that.”
When he first told you that, it was a normal breakfast the summer you were fifteen. He continued eating his grapefruit like he'd made a passing comment about the weather. You didn't believe him at the time. You don't believe him. But it would be a lie to say his words haven't stayed with you. Sirius had been very nice to you, but when he stopped getting under your skirt, he stopped talking to you altogether, unless it was to try and get under your skirt again.
Long story short, January was a rough month for you this year, as it usually is in the winter, but you got over it, and you got over Sirius. You were doing okay as winter started showing signs of turning into spring, and so of course the universe decided to fuck all that up in the biggest way possible.
You spend ten minutes in the bathroom, for once not because you're throwing up. You blow your nose in some of the thinnest toilet paper ever made, splash your face with cold water and gently massage your face to dispel the swelling. When all traces of crying are disappeared from your face, you leave, heading back to Regulus’s dorm. May as well get it over with, even if you will have to wait another day or so to take the final medicine and for this mess to be actually over.
You're awoken by a loud screech, far too close to your ear for your liking. You jolt, eyes flashing open to find the culprit. There's an owl on the bedside table.
What on earth?
It screeches again, shrill and just as loud as the first. This time, it's alerting your attention to the letter resting on the bedsheet, by your head.
Another screech. This thing must think humans are stupid.
“Okay, alright, I see it.” You hold up the envelope for it to see, waving it in an exaggerated manner. “Thank you,” you add reluctantly.
Even more reluctantly, you open it. Mostly to get the owl to go away. The last time you received a letter like this, it was your dad pressuring you to get an abortion. You can't imagine what he has to say now. Maybe Madam Pomfrey contacted them when you got the pills yesterday, and he's writing to tell you a good job. Maybe he's decided that even if you do get rid of it, just the fact you were once with child outside of marriage is too dirty to step foot in the manor. Some ridiculous shit like that.
But it's none of those. It's not even from your father. Or Josephine, your step mother.
When you read the first line, you gasp and sit up properly, re settling yourself in a more suitable position to read. It doesn't take long. It's only short, one page, and you're too anxious to get to the next line, you find yourself reading at speeds you normally save for exams.
She’s signed it off with a phone number, and Love Fran xx
Fran. The last time you spoke to her, she was still Frannie. That was about two years ago, regrettably. She must be twenty one now. You sit with the shock for a few seconds, taking it all in. That's when you see the packet of pills—unopened—strewn carelessly on the sheets, and realise that you must've fallen asleep before taking the pill. It's still possible. You'll talk to her first, of course, but for now you can hold off on taking any pills.
You read the letter a second time before you can't take it anymore, and rush out of the dorm, almost tripping down the stairs, and out of the common room into the cool corridors. The sun is only just starting to set, you probably have about half an hour left of daylight.
It's usually a twenty minute walk just to get into Hogsmeade, so you hurry. You zoom past the shops and cafes, zigzagging through small crowds of people in your way. The sun has turned the sky a beautiful pink by the time you arrive, patches of purple and orange visible between clouds.
You slam the door open to the phone box and snatch the phone from its cradle, paying the machine with coins before dialling the number on the letter. And then you wait, listening to it ring.
Time is going all too slow and yet too fast as you wait. Your heart is drumming from your fast walk here, and you pant lightly into the receiver.
Finally, there's that quick sound indicating someone's picked up, and then, “Hello?”
“Frannie!” you say, excited. A pigeon nearby spooks and flies off at the volume of your voice. “Sorry, Fran,” you correct, remembering how she'd signed off. “I just got your letter.”
“Well, good.”
“Did you really mean it?” you say. “Can I come and stay with you in the summer?”
“Yes. But don't make me regret offering. And it doesn't mean I'm not mad at you for getting knocked up. You're practically still a child yourself.”
“You don't know that, I could be mature!”
“Mhm. But I don't doubt that you'll be a good mother, I know you've wanted this. ‘S why I couldn't let Dad be your only option. He's such a dick sometimes.”
“You really think so?” You say, suddenly feeling very small.
“You don't?” she sounds surprised. “Why did you think I left?”
“No. No, not about Dad.” You scoff, remembering your father's words permanently in the back of your mind. “Yeah, Dad's a fucking dick. I meant about me. You think I can do this?”
“Kid, I think you can do whatever you put your mind to. I know you'll do whatever you have to do, for yourself and for that kid.”
You stare out of the phone booth, through the glass and at the sunsetting sky. It's getting dark now, and it'll be getting cold soon. You take a deep breath, processing your older sister's words, and when you reply, it's with a smile.
You continue talking for a short while, before saying goodbye and heading back to the castle. Spotting a ‘help wanted’ sign in the Three Broomsticks's window, you make a quick stop inside and speak to the owner. Ten minutes later, the cool air sends a shiver through you as you step out of the pub, successful.
You start your new job on Friday.
By the time you make it back to the castle, most people are having dinner, but Fran had told you she was cooking something, so you head straight to Regulus's dorm to pack a bag. It's just for a few days, but when she offered to have you visit now for the first time instead of waiting until the summer when everything will be changing all at once, you agreed. Happily.
You haven't seen your sister in two years, it'll be nice to see her again. Be in her presence. You're nervous, but very excited. It's also not a bad idea for you to get away from everything for a few days. Your roommates, Sirius, just the castle in general. You need to breathe.
You write Regulus a note explaining where you'll be for the next couple days, and then you're off back outside so that you can apparate. You've only visited Frannie's new place once, when you dropped off some things she'd forgotten to pack with her. That was also the last time you saw her.
As expected, you don't manage to apparate exactly in front of her home, but after asking a local shopkeeper where you are, you quickly realise you're not far. You get walking. It's a nice little town that Frannie chose, and luckily not too far from where you grew up. You begin to recognise some of the landscape as you walk, and soon you're recognising the same street from two years ago.
Number 93, she'd reminded you on the phone. You double check that it's the right number, and ring the doorbell.
She doesn't leave you waiting, a light flicking on in the hallway before the door opens with a small click of the lock turning.
“Hi, beautiful girl,” she says.
For a second, you just stare. She looks the same, definitely older, but pretty much the same. But there's something different. A confidence about her that changes her entire appearance somehow.
“It's so good to see you,” you finally say.
Frannie smiles softly, nodding behind her and stepping back to open the door wider. “Come on, you're letting all the warm air out.”
You follow her inside, leaving your shoes by the door before following her through the lounge into the kitchen. You recognise the layout from your last visit, and while there's a new cushion or poster or rug here and there, you recognise most of the decor, too. The place has a very distinct Frannie vibe to it, which helps you to relax and also feel like you aren't the complete strangers you'd worried you were.
There's a small, square table with a plastic bouquet in the middle, against the wall and you take a seat in one of the chairs as she tends to something on the hob.
“So.” She seems happy with whatever's cooking and places the wooden spoon on the counter, turning around to face you. Her arms are crossed. “Who's the dad? Have you told him?”
Ugh. You'd forgotten about Sirius.
“He knows,” you say tightly.
“Uh oh.” She comes over to the table, stopping in front of you. “That's my chair.” With a sigh, you get up and switch to the opposite chair, as she sits happily in the one you just left. It's such a big sister thing for her to do, you can't even be mad. “Spill,” she says when you're both settled. “Boyfriend? Ex-boyfriend?”
You consider lying, then decide its probably best not to. If there's anyone in the world you tell the truth, let it be your sister. “Not exactly.”
Her brows furrow and she seems to think for a while. Then, quickly, the confusion fades away into fear and she stares intensely. She doesn't need to say it out loud.
“Oh, Merlin– No. No, it was…consensual. Definitely.”
Her chest deflates with relief. “Alright then. And you're sure you want to go through with this?”
“Is that stupid?”
“Hey, it's your life.”
“I mean, the doctor said I have almost two weeks still to decide if I want to take the pills, if I want an abortion after that I have to have surgery.” You sigh. “I was going to get rid of it, this weekend actually. Are you sure I can stay with you once school is over?”
Frannie waves her hand dismissively, telling you it was a stupid question. “It's not like you'll be here for free, I could use the help in the bakery. Hey, I could put up a ‘family business’ sign now! And we can get a teeny tiny apron for Baby. That'll be hilarious.”
You nod, surprised at how quickly she's accepted it. You definitely took a little more time—cough, a week in denial, cough—but now, you've had that time. And you had accepted the fact of getting an abortion. But with the changes your sister brings, giving you a place to stay and a job…
“Alright. I…guess I'm gonna be a mum.”
You smile, hurrying to wipe your eyes when they well up unexpectedly. This is the start of your future. This is definitely not a small thing.
Frannie gets up to check on dinner and rubs your shoulder reassuringly as she goes past, comforting you in a way only an older sister could. You really did miss her.
“I'm gonna be a mum,” you repeat quieter, speaking mostly to the bean growing inside you. There's no bump yet, but you know it's there. “It's you and me now, kid.”
“Now tell me about the father,” says your sister, still facing away from you. “And I want details. Not– gory details, keep that to yourself. But is he cute? Nice? Rich?”
You spend the rest of the night talking. Genuinely, you fall asleep together in Frannie's bed catching up late into the night. Luckily it's a double bed, not like when you were kids, and you both fit perfectly without one having to complain about the other breathing too loud right in her face.
You find out that her business is going incredibly well since she opened a year and a half ago. She owns a bakery called The Magic Ingredient, which sells the normal things you'd expect in a muggle bakery—the classic pastries, sandwiches, cakes, etc. But also, she has a window in the back for sweet magic treats. Things wizards (from the UK at least) would have eaten at Hogwarts, but perhaps struggled to find in the real world after leaving. She says there are equal muggle customers as witch and wizard customers.
You're interested, once you start working there, in talking to older witches and wizards. Having grown up with a muggle father and an absent mother, you were only exposed to that part of your identity at school. You didn't even know that magic was real until Frannie got her letter when she was eleven and you were eight. You'd like to hear what their lives are like, what they do for a living. Maybe they can give you some ideas. You at least hope they can give you some hope.
Another win is that you manage to brush off most of the Sirius-centric questions. This isn't your first day with a sister, you are aware that you'll have to tell her something at some time. Just not yet.
You realise you don't really know how Sirius actually feels about the pregnancy. You know how he feels about you; he made that perfectly clear. But the baby…You've no idea. He doesn't seem like the type of person to want to settle down so quickly. From what you can guess, you imagine he wants to go everywhere, and do everything, and meet everyone. You can't imagine him ever settling down, to be honest. But, as you realised earlier that day, you don't know shit about the guy.
Who knows, he might surprise you.
Sirius's POV
So. It didn't exactly go to plan. Not that there was even much of a plan, but it definitely wasn't…that. Now his foot and his face and his shin hurts. That's three more body parts than last night. Fucking ridiculous.
He angrily limps back over to his friends, sitting on the grass where he left them when he spotted you.
“Woah, who pissed in your wheetabix?” says Peter, unhelpfully.
“Piss off Wormy.”
He actually does. He makes an annoyed sound then gets up, mumbling something under his breath, and speeds away from them.
Remus cringes as Sirius lowers himself to the ground. It's not very graceful, his body still aches from training last night.
“How did it go?” Remus asks, pretending to be cheerful.
“Fanfuckingtastic.” He leans back on his elbows, looking up at the sun to save him with its warmth. “She fucking attacked me.”
“Jumped out the bushes and onto your back, did she?”
“It's not funny, Moons.”
“I'm not laughing, Pads.” Remus sighs, finally stopping smiling. “Tell me what happened.”
Sirius starts to explain, then stops himself, unable to find the right words. He does this a few times, sputtering and stuttering until eventually he gives up. “I don't know. But she fucking hit me!”
“And I don't doubt that you deserved it.”
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
On Monday evening, everyone's having dinner together. It's cute, like a family dinner. Marlene's girlfriend has even come over from the Slytherin table to sit with them, bringing their number up to nine people, with Peter's girl joining them as well. It's pretty common for them all to do this nowadays, and they take up a good portion of the gryffindor table. He never passes up an opportunity to tell a first year to piss off further up the table. It's the little things in life that bring joy to the every day.
Tonight, everything's going how it usually does, except it's definitely not. There's definitely tension between Marlene and her girlfriend. Now Sirius didn't pick up on this himself, obviously, but he's sat next to Mary and she won't stop talking. She's airing out everyone's business to him for seemingly no reason other than to be a gossip.
He doesn't know half the people she's talking about, but when she starts talking about the people at this table, his ears tune back in. Apparently James and Lily are in a fight, also, because he missed a date they had planned for detention. Sirius doesn't understand why Lily's mad about that, it's not like James got a detention on purpose. But that's why Sirius leaves the relationships to the professionals.
At least that was the plan, he guesses it's kind of gone sideways now.
Mary, herself, is apparently mad at Peter for saying she ‘looked like she gained weight.’ Even Sirius knew what was wrong with that one.
So, it really is like a family dinner. The tensions are running high, everyone's mad at someone, and nobody is talking about it. Apart from Mary, of course.
Sirius personally can't stop thinking about the conversation with you in the woods a couple days ago, the only person he's angry with is himself. Of course he doesn't think you'd actually sleep with Regulus. Or more he doesn't think Regulus would sleep with you. But everything has been a bit overwhelming for him recently, and there were so many things pointing to you and Regulus! Between the library, the party, and the sharing a bed, it was the most logical conclusion for him in the moment when his mind was already clouded with shock and anger, he just needed a release for those feelings. So he found the first one, and ran with it.
You'll probably never speak to him again, he certainly hasn't seen you since Saturday. He doesn't know how he feels about the Big News. He wants to talk to you first, maybe hearing how you feel will help him figure out how to feel. Can't hurt.
Sirius looks up from his plate to see Madam Pomfrey, standing at the foot of the Slytherin table and searching faces. Remus, who might be the only one in the group without someone mad at him, seems to notice too. And he notices Sirius noticing, nodding his head.
“Wonder what that's about,” he says. Remus is on Sirius's right, so it's easy for them to hear each other over the cacophony of the dining hall.
“Does she ever stop working?” asks Sirius, thought coming to his mind. “Like, is it always her on duty in the hospital wing, 24/7? That's gotta be against some sort of labor law.”
“Well I imagine she sleeps. And there are other nurses during the day, she's just the most senior,” explains Remus. He's the one who spends half his time in the infirmary, he would know. “One time she was sick, and I think she called in someone from St Mungos to cover.”
“What if she wants to go on holiday?”
“She's got six weeks in the summer to…” Remus trails off, and they both watch Madam Pomfrey.
She walks up to a girl, seemingly having found the face she was looking for, but the girl then points across the room. Over at them. Madam Pomfrey nods, and starts heading towards them.
“Did you forget to change your bandages or something?”
“Yeah, she was pointing exactly at us, right? Did you and James do something without telling me and get caught?”
Sirius makes a murmuring, mocking sound that doesn't mean much of anything.
The doctor goes over to their group, but doesn't bat an eye at the pair. Sirius isn't sure she even knows they're there. No, she goes straight for Marlene's girlfriend, who is sitting across the table from Sirius and down two spaces. He can't hear what they're saying, but he watches intently as Elise stands from the table and follows Madam Pomfrey over to the corner of the great hall to chat privately.
“Can you hear what they're saying?” Sirius leans close to Remus, wondering if his magical, crazy good werewolf hearing can beat the sound of three hundred students having their tea and single out a hushed conversation in the corner.
Remus is quiet, and Sirius waits for him to do his thing. In the meantime, Mary also leans over to the pair, practically resting her chin on Sirius's shoulder.
“Do you know what that was about?” she whispers, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
“We're finding out,” Sirius says, clipped.
“Oh, that's right! Remus has super-duper werewolf ears. Do you ever hear James and Lily having sex? Like accidentally.”
“You don't need werewolf ears to hear that.”
Mary snorts.
Remus leans over now, rather dramatically, and relays the conversation. “It's about y/n,” he says. All of their heads turn to look at the pair in the corner, and Remus continues. “Elise hasn't seen her since Saturday. Pomfrey thought they shared a dorm. They do, but she hasn't been sleeping there recently.” he pauses, listening. Before he can say anything else, the doctor turns around and heads straight for the teacher's table. From her walk, Sirius can tell she means absolutely no nonsense, and Elise looks about ready to cry as she comes back to the group. “Oh shit, oh shit, act normal.”
Sirius looks at his plate like it's an artifact in a foreign museum that he's travelled across the world for the sole reason of getting a look at with his own eyes. He's probably over doing it a bit.
Elise doesn't sit back down, she only came over to say goodbye to Marlene. Marlene asks her what happened, if she's okay. Elise responds with three words, and Sirius has no idea what they mean.
“You were right.” And then she's off.
Sirius realises Madam Pomfrey hasn't gone to the teachers table for dinner of her own, but to speak to the headmaster himself. She crouches next to his chair, talking seriously while he listens.
“Can you he–”
“Sh,” Remus cuts him off. He'll take that as a yes, then. It's an agonising two minutes while he waits, but when Dumbledore stands with the doctor and they leave, Remus doesn't lean forward to immediately tell them the tea.
“Well?” Mary prompts.
“Uh, it was nothing.” Remus shakes his head, picking up his knife and fork. He smiles at them in a way that is so obviously fake. “Boring. Just admin stuff.”
“You're such a fucking liar,” says Mary, but she drops it. She doesn't prod, seemingly content to forget about it and go back to eating her dinner. Maybe she thinks she can ask Marlene after dinner.
Sirius does not feel that way. Especially when it was about you, but Remus shakes his head at Sirius's insistent stare, saying under his breath, “Later, okay?”
Later, they're sitting on their opposite beds while James showers and Peter is…not here, that's all that matters.
“Are you sure you want to know?”
“Obviously. Just tell me.”
Remus sighs. “They can't find y/n. Pomfrey said she gave her…” He pauses, eyeing Sirius warily. “Medicine, for an abortion,” he continues, “and that she was supposed to go in today—to the infirmary—to make sure it went okay. But she didn't show up, and her roommates say they haven't seen her in a couple days. Pomfrey's bloody pissed, actually, they're going to write to her parents and see if they know where she is. She said if she doesn't turn up by Wednesday, she's phoning the magical law enforcement and the muggle police. It's pretty bad.” Then Remus must realise the gravity of what he's saying, and what it means to Sirius specifically. “She's thinking in worst case scenarios, though, you know? I guess that's her job. I'm sure it's fine. I'm sure she's fine.”
For the first time in his life, Sirius's body is completely still. He feels paralysed, and he doesn't even know why.
“Are…” Remus says. “Um, I mean– I don't really know your relationship with her, but–” Sirius hears him pause to breathe deeply, in and out. “Do you want to talk about it?”
What's there even to talk about? Sirius doesn't know much at all about abortions, but he tries not to picture you alone somewhere, bleeding out or hurt because something went wrong. Is it a safe process? Pomfrey seemed worried out of her mind at dinner, and she's the most knowledgeable person Sirius knows when it comes to medicine and that. It can't be a good sign.
“No,” Sirius answers. “No, but thanks. For eavesdropping and then telling me.” He shuffles backwards on the bed, and starts pulling the curtains closed. “Night, Moony.”
Remus gives him a small smile. “Night, Padfoot.”
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
The next day, Sirius goes down for breakfast to find Marlene comforting her crying girlfriend. Right there, at the breakfast table. It really puts a damper on what otherwise is a good breakfast. Sausage, eggs, and a bacon roll. Sirius loves mornings like this. So why the fuck was a girl crying across from him and ruining it? He's sitting on the opposite side of the table, and a little further down, but there's so few people it doesn't make a lot of difference.
“I'm sure she's fine,” Marlene is saying. “She probably just went home for the weekend and decided to stay for an extra few days.”
“But what if something happened to her? Or the baby? That'd be my fault,” Elise cries.
Sirius tries to eat faster, wishing James or Remus or, hell, even Peter was here with him. They're clearly talking about you. And they clearly know you're pregnant. So you told them but you didn't think it necessary for the actual father to know? What kind of logic is that? And do they know that Sirius is the father, or did you decide it was irrelevant?
“It's too early to be jumping to conclusions,” soothes Marlene. He doesn't think they even know he's there.
He supposes that's a good thing, will make escaping easier.
“Oh, Regulus!” Sirius nearly startles when the crying girl jumps up from the bench, rattling cutlery, and rushes to the doors, where his little brother has just walked in.
Regulus looks terrified for a second until he sees who it is running towards him. The terrified look returns when Elise starts dragging him by his arm over to where they're sitting. Sirius catches his eye accidentally and quickly shoots his head down, pretending to still be clueless.
When they finally reach them, he catches the end of Elise saying, “--you heard?”
“Sit, sit,” Elise insists, waving her hands at the plates of food running through the middle of the table. Sirius looks up, and Regulus meets his gaze before hesitantly taking a seat. “Y/n's missing! No one's seen her since Saturday, Merlin I feel so, so awful. I just feel responsible somehow.”
Regulus tilts his head at the girl, who begins to tear up again. Sirius is now shamelessly watching their conversation.
“Well, you did kick her out of her room. I think you should feel responsible, a little bit.”
“You what?” Sirius blurts before he can help himself. He shuffles up the bench a little to look the girl in the face. “Why would you kick a pregnant lady out of her dorm? Even if she wasn't pregnant, who the fuck gave you the right? You're sitting here crying your heart out, but what about her?”
Elise's face changes slowly, and it's like watching an iceberg crumble, before she's a mess of tears and sniffles again. She tries to hide behind her hands, but if she doesn't want people to see her then maybe she shouldn't do this at breakfast.
“That's enough,” says Marlene. “You don't even know her, Sirius.”
“I don't have to know her to know that what she did-” he nods to Elise- “is wrong. That's just– I mean, why would you even do that?”
She shakes her head, face still covered with her hands. “I don't know.”
“That's not–”
“Sirius,” Marlene says, stern. “That's enough.”
“No, actually I don't think it is. She could be anywhere–”
“Shes with her sister,” Regulus interrupts calmly. “She went to stay for a few days, I don't know when she'll be back. Can we stop shouting about it in front of half the school now?”
your POV
After four days with your sister—a couple more than you originally planned—you return to Hogwarts. You need to get back to school, exams starting in under a month now. It was a good break, though, and you definitely needed it. You went with Frannie to the bakery and checked it all out, even spoke to the customers when they asked who you were. You can see yourself in that life, you can see yourself being happy. Just have to get through the next two and a bit months, first.
Which might be easier said than done the way your pregnancy is treating you.
But still, the world keeps spinning. You make your way back through town and up to the castle, having apparated just before lunchtime once your morning sickness had worn off. You head to Regulus’s dorm, hoping he hasn't changed his mind about letting you stay there. Hopefully he'll at least let you grab the rest of your stuff first if he does want you gone.
You knock just in case, but expect Regulus to be in class. You expect wrong.
“Fuck off!” he shouts. It makes you take a step back, before trying again. Gently, this time.
“It's me,” you say through the door. “I just want to change.” When there's no reply, you take it as a sign to continue. If he still wanted you to piss off, he'd have yelled it again. “I won't bother you, promise.”
There's a click. Then the door cracks open, Regulus poking his head through the gap. After looking at you for a minute he must decide you're not a threat, and walks away, leaving you to push the door open further.
“Okay,” you say under your breath, taking in the room. It's not…messy, exactly. But by Regulus’s standards, it's practically a landfill. There are socks and trousers on the floor, books stacked messily on the table by the window, and a candle burning low. “Is everything alright?”
“You said you wouldn't bother me.” He slumps onto his bed, where you assume he was wallowing when you knocked, falling face first onto a pillow. He groans.
You decide it's best you leave him alone while he's like this, until he's ready to talk. You tip toe over to your trunk, quickly and silently finding your uniform and heading into the bathroom to change. When you come back out, Regulus hasn't moved an inch. You tip toe over to the door.
“Okay, just…Let me know if you want to talk. I kind of owe you one, so if I can do anything.” The door creaks as you open it, lingering for a second. “Bye, Regulus.”
His head is still in the pillow, so you leave.
Your walk to class is slightly strange. It's not weird for people to yell at you across hallways, whether they're people you know saying hi, or people you don't know saying things you wish you didn't hear. Teenage boys truly are an odd breed, and you're glad you're nearly past the point in your life where you have to see them every day.
But today, people—that you know—are yelling, and…asking if you're okay. You checked yourself in the bathroom mirror in Regulus's dorm before leaving, you don't think you look any different to usual.
Finally, you snap when a fourth person asks.
“Hey!” Jasmina, someone you hang with at parties sometimes, calls. She's standing with another person, who turns to look at you, too. You don't recognise them, though, they look to be in a lower year. “How you doing, babe? It's nice to see you.”
You stop walking to talk to her. “I'm fine. Have you, um, heard something about me recently?”
She shakes her head. “I don't think so. They were looking for you for a little while, though.”
Her answer is not remotely what you expected. You step closer, joining her and the younger girl. “Who's they?”
“The doctor lady. Then when your roommates said they kicked you out, she got so mad. You should've been there, honestly, I don't think I've ever seen a teacher get so close to hitting a child. They treating you okay, though? Just give me the word, and I'll slap one of those bitches for you.”
“Oh.” You laugh. “No, that's okay. Thanks.”
“Offer stands, I've been waiting for an excuse since October when Sadie stood on my foot with her heels. She said it was an accident, but I don't believe a word that leaves her mouth.”
The smirk sneaks onto your lips without permission and by the time you catch yourself, it's too late. You don't mind, though, Jasmina’s cool. “I'm sorry she did that, she thinks she can get away with everything.” Probably because she does. You can't say you're innocent in that, you didn't exactly do anything when she charmed you out of your room, even while it's clearly against the rules. You just don't like to cause a fuss. “I've gotta run to class, but I'll see you around.”
You're halfway down the hallway when she calls your name again. You turn.
“Just give me one of these–” she winks in a dramatised way– “and I'll know what you mean. Sort them out for you.”
You're about fifteen metres from the classroom when, through the crowd of people standing outside classrooms, his eyes meet yours.
You freeze. Like an idiot, you hadn't expected to see him here. At school, the same one you both go to. Maybe you just hadn't expected to see him so soon.
He holds eye contact, but thankfully doesn't make any move to catch up to you. He's standing with his friends and they talk around him, not noticing that he's also frozen. Like you. At least you're not alone in that.
You feel some sort of longing to go over there, to speak to him, to hug him, to kiss him. It's a strange feeling, and unfamiliar to you, especially about Sirius. Especially when you're supposed to be mad at him. While you both look at each other, it's like the world stops spinning, giving you more time. More time to be normal teenagers, who just have a crush and it's not any more complicated than that. More time to figure out what the hell is happening to your insides when he looks at you like that.
You look away first, pushing open the door to the classroom and taking refuge inside. It feels like you're betraying him somehow.
Inside is the teacher setting things up at the front, drawing on the chalkboard, and a few eager students spread across the desks, sitting alone. You don't get a chance to become one of them because the professor looks up when you walk in, and calls you to the front. Well shit. What have you done now?
You decide to try and get ahead of yourself, already explaining as you walk up there. “I'm sorry for missing so many classes, sir, I swear I'll–”
He shushes you with a wave. “Don't worry about that, I trust you'll catch up. If you need any help with that, do let me know. But that's not why I wanted your attention today.”
You wait for him to continue, shifting your feet so that you're standing on the sides to your tip toes, and then back to normal, and then repeating. He takes a sip from his mug, too casual. Can he not see how worried you are? Just spit it out already, man.
“You are to go down to the hospital wing, I hear,” he finally says. “Madam Pomfrey is looking for you. Oh, but here, this is the homework. I don't expect you'll be coming back to class.” He hands over a couple sheets of paper with his handwriting on, and you take them mindlessly. Is that a bit creepy or what? I don't expect you'll be coming back to class. Ever?! What does he know that you don't? “Alright, best be off now. I do hope you're feeling better.”
end a/n: next update may take a little longer (I know, I'm sorry) I started a new medication and it's supposed to get worse before it gets better so I'm not sure I'll feel well enough to write. fingers crossed! also Noah Kahan just put out a new album and i am not okay :')
also how do we feel about the longer (7k+) chapters or do we prefer shorter (between 3-5k words)?
summary: september-present of Sirius's final year at hogwarts.
content warnings: slight black brothers angst, implied underage sex (absolutely nothing explicit, but if you have a problem with it, skip to November:)), also implied normal (of age?) sex, not canon compliant I think at all
wc: 11.7k
a/n: I have no idea how people regularly post chapters 10k+ tumblr has been ON MY ASS and so fucking laggy I'm going insane. but here we are! thank you to the kind people who were waiting for this chapter, sorry you're still on a cliffhanger :')
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September
The air is thick with the humidity of late summer in Scotland when Sirius steps off the train with his closest friends, for the start of their final year at Hogwarts. It's been a good summer at the Potters’ and Sirius almost doesn't want to be back. He used to like coming to Hogwarts every year because he would be far away from his family, and get to see his friends every day. Now he gets that already with the Potters, and he can spend his days mucking about doing whatever he wants. It's great, but it makes coming back to school much more of a slog. Especially this year, the last year, where all the pressure is on him to figure out what he wants to do in life. He doesn't even know what he wants to do next week, expecting him to make a decision about the rest of his life is laughable.
This is going to be a good year, though, regardless. He and James have some extra big prank ideas, they just need to pitch them to Moony who will help them figure out if they're plausible or not. They can't expect the marauders to leave without one big final bang, it's what the people expect! And it has to be big, which is why they've already started brainstorming.
As they're walking up to the castle, James and Lily hand in hand, Peter talking James's ear off about his summer, Remus falls behind slightly and Sirius hangs back with him. They walk together in silence, not needing to talk because they've been writing to each other all summer. And Sirius suspects the steep incline may have Remus enough occupied, and he's not keen to piss him off less than five minutes after being reunited.
Up ahead, dragging a bag about the size of himself, Sirius notices his little brother. He hasn't seen Regulus since June, and his hair looks freshly cut, eyes heavy, and he too is walking with a slight limp. Though Sirius knows it's not for the same reasons Remus is.
He tried before the start of summer, to convince Regulus to come with him to James's, even though he knew it was hopeless. He won't stop asking. He'll send him a letter before Christmas, asking the same thing, and then again at the end of the year. It's important to Sirius that he knows the invitation hasn't expired, that it never will, because he knows Regulus will think he's being a burden and feel too shy to go up to Sirius if he changes his mind. But if he changes his mind and Sirius constantly asks him, maybe it will feel like he's doing Sirius a favour by finally accepting. And in a way, he would be.
Sirius doesn't know what he'll do if Regulus doesn't fold by the end of the year. Regulus says he doesn't want to, says that Sirius is over-exaggerating about how bad it is at home. But they both know that he's not, and it will send him crazy thinking about Regulus alone in that house. At least while they're at school, Sirius can keep an eye on him.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
A few days later, Sirius breathes heavily, trying not to inhale too much dust, as he watches you reclasp your bra. “You in a rush?” he asks, pulling a cigarette from his pocket.
You look up, acknowledging his presence for the first time since detaching yourselves from each other. You sigh like he's annoying you and he knows that he's fucked. Both literally and metaphorically.
“No,” you say, also catching your breath. He doesn't believe you.
“At least stay for a cigarette, you're making me feel used.”
Only thirty minutes ago, you'd been exchanging names for the first time as he poured you a drink at a party to celebrate the start of your final year at Hogwarts. The beginning of the end. At the start of the night, Sirius's goal had been to get as drunk as humanly possible. He had not anticipated…you. He can't believe you've been going to school together for so long, and he's only just met you today. Twenty minutes ago, after he kissed you as you danced, you both decided to sneak off to find an empty classroom and ended up in an old closet with cleaning supplies and a mop in the corner. Clearly, you weren't picky. And boy did you not waste time.
“Well we can't have that.” You take the now lit cigarette from between his fingers.
He shakes his head, looking across at your slightly tussled hair fondly. You still haven't put your shirt back on.
“No we cannot.” Sirius takes the cigarette back as you exhale smoke. It's probably not a good idea to be smoking in such an enclosed space, but it's too late now. “So was that your first time?” he says.
You laugh. Hard and sudden, like you weren't expecting it yourself. “Is that your way of telling me I was shit?”
He coughs on the smoke, almost dropping the cigarette. “No!” How did you get to that conclusion? “No, Merlin, no. Not at all.”
“Just making conversation then?”
He coughs again, a small one, into his elbow. “I guess, yeah.”
“Maybe stick to the weather next time, babe.” You're smirking at him like he's a hopeless idiot. “Or, literally anything else. Moral of the story, don't ask a girl if she's a virgin less than an hour after meeting her.”
“Well I knew you weren't a virgin by that point,” he says in a mumble.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
October
“Your heart's beating really fast,” Sirius whispers. He can feel it against his body because of the way you've spread yourself over him. “Is that normal?”
Your legs straddle his as he sits against the wall on his bed, your head resting heavily on his shoulder. You've been doing this for about a month now, and have met enough times that he's beginning to get to know you, or your habits at least. But you aren't normally this touchy feely, he thinks, and this position is almost bordering on a cuddle.
“Sorry,” you say finally, slowly. “Just give me a minute.”
He silently agrees, leaving you to do your thing while he replays the past twenty minutes in his head. You'd sent him a note in the form of a paper aeroplane at lunch, just two words: Need you. Who was he to say no to that? You both had hurried up to his dorm, knowing you're supposed to be in class, and mutely agreed to make this a quick one.
But now he's completely forgotten about class, and is too busy focusing on the pure speed of your heart rate. He starts to count them, automatically, but loses focus when he reaches thirty. It didn't take long to get to thirty, though, and he's sure that can't be a good thing. Your breathing is odd, too. He doesn't like how he's noticing these things, but it's only because your body is literally touching his. Skin to skin.
“S…Sorry,” you say again. It's almost slurred.
Sirius tries to look at your face, but your head is right next to his and facing the other direction. He says your name. Then again, when your shoulder flops onto him, and your body gets suddenly heavier. Not with weight, more like…force. He repeats your name, frantic, bringing his hand up to pat your back, seeing if you'll respond to touch.
You do, and soon you're lifting your head off his shoulder and sitting up. Your eyes are drooping, almost shut. But you don't manage to stay like that for long, having put your arm behind yourself for stability which seems to bend the second you try to put any weight on it.
You flop backwards.
“Fuck!” Sirius scrambles, untangling his legs from yours and going and kneeling by your head. Your pupils flutter beneath your eyelids. “Hello? Can you hear me? What the fuck?!” He shifts restlessly, letting out a rather unmanly squeal. How's he going to explain this to people? “Are you awake?”
Your head moves, ever so slightly. A nod, and he nearly jumps for joy. So he hasn't killed you.
“What's happening?” he asks you. No reply, you don't move your head, either this time. “Can I do something? What can I do?”
It's faint, very quiet. Your lips move slowly, like you're having trouble controlling them. But he makes it out, a quick, “sh,” before your face goes slack again.
“Did you just shush me? I'm trying to help you!”
This time a groaning noise leaves your lips, and you shift about, trying to roll over or grab something, Sirius can't figure out what, but he does shut up like you asked. He sits by your body, close but not touching, and watches.
About two minutes pass before you're talking words again. Another three before you feel like sitting up.
“I'm gonna…get some water.”
He moves back against the pillows, out of your way, silently allowing you to crawl off the bed. He's frozen there, sitting and watching you almost fall as you make your way to the bathroom.
Later, when the dizzy spell has mostly passed and you're sipping a glass of water on his bed while he watches you like a hawk, scared you'll faint again or disappear,
he says, “I thought I killed you.”
And you laugh—quietly, he can tell you're still not a hundred percent—and reply, “What, with your dick?” You pat his shoulder twice, and go for a third time but miss. You play it off and he decides to pretend not to notice.
He smiles, but says, “Don't laugh at me, I was actually worried. I don't know what the fuck to do with a death on my conscience.” He pauses. “What did happen, though? Like, has that happened before? Do you have some sort of condition?”
“Never happened before.” You're speaking with your eyes closed for some reason he can't figure out. “I think I'm just about to start my period, so. Everything's all a bit weird, you know.”
“Oh, you have those.”
You open your eyes just to narrow them at him. “Obviously?”
Sirius holds his hands up in surrender. “You never know, and my mother said it's impolite to ask a lady.”
“Don't ask her if she's on her period. I'd say it's safe to assume most girls our age regularly have them.”
“You're so wise.”
“Fuck right off.” You snicker as you shuffle to the edge of the bed, finding and sliding on your shoes to leave. It's so fast that he doesn't really realise what you're doing until you're standing by the door. Okay…He guesses that's the end of the conversation? That was very abrupt. Maybe he said something wrong. He should probably get to class anyway. “See you later, Black.”
He's flustered, and he forgets to say it back. And then you're gone, and he's very very confused about what just happened.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
A few days later, he's still thinking about it, and so he decides to ask the only person he can think of who might be able to help him out.
He and James are walking back from early morning quidditch practice, showered and changed, on the way to breakfast in comfortable silence. Sirius has no idea how to broach the subject, so he decides to just dive right in at the deep end.
“Hey, Prongs?” He keeps his eyes ahead, refusing to look at the other boy. Just saying it is humiliating enough. “Have you ever had a girl…faint? Afterwards.”
“Afterwards?” James says, clueless. “After what?”
Sirius rolls his eyes, waving his hands in some shapeless gesture as if that'll give him any clue. “Y'know.”
James's eyebrows scrunch over his glasses. Sirius refuses to explain any further, and they walk in silence until James finally gets it.
“Oh. Sex? Do you mean sex?”
Sirius exhales slowly, stifling a grin as he stays determined not to look at his friend. “Yeah mate.”
“Sorry, what was the question again?”
“Has anyone ever fainted? In your experience.”
“Fainted?” James questions, and Sirius regrets ever asking at all.
“Fucking forget about it.”
They push the doors to the great hall open, heading to join Remus who's already munching down his toast. James laughs, loud, shaking his head.
“You're so easy.” He slaps Sirius's back as they sit down across from their friend. “You've got to chill out.”
“Oh so you were being an unhelpful wanker on purpose?”
“Hey,” says Remus. “What are the rules?”
“Tell that to him, not me!”
“Prongs, what are the rules?”
“No wankers before breakfast,” James mumbles reluctantly. “But you ask stupid questions you get stupid answers, that's my rule.”
“It's not a fucking stupid question.”
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
November
It's Sirius's birthday. He's eighteen at last, and he's going to party like it. At the party he isn't aware of, so far as his friends think. But even if Peter hadn't told him, to think that Sirius Black would be happy with a quiet night in on his eighteenth birthday is plain insanity. So he's got a plan. It starts at breakfast, after James corralled the entire table to sing him ‘happy birthday.’
The song ends and James quickly jumps back down from standing on the bench to save being scolded by Mcgonagol. Sirius has to endure a hundred pats on the back and even more birthday wishes before everyone settles down and he can fill his plate. He's fucking starving, hasn't eaten since dinner last night.
“So, what are the birthday boy's plans?” says Remus, doing a terrible job at trying to be subtle.
And so the plan starts. Sirius can't help but smile in anticipation.
“Got a date,” he says, grinning.
“What?” Peter blurts, looking worriedly at James. “But–”
“With who?” James interrupts without a beat. “I didn't know you fancied anyone.”
“It's just a bit of fun, ’nt it? Got to celebrate, eighteen's a big one.”
“Exactly, so why wouldn't you want to spend it with u–”
There's a bang under the table and Peter whines. Under his breath, James says, “Shut up, Wormtail.”
They must take him for some kind of idiot if they think he's still not caught on.
Remus narrows his eyes at him. He's always been the best at detecting a lie, but Sirius isn't particularly worried. “Where are you going?”
“A muggle nightclub,” Sirius replies, smooth. He won't crack under Remus's gaze, he won't. “We'll apparate there and back.”
Now, instead of looking sceptical, Remus looks concerned. “Is that a good idea?”
“It's fun, Moons.”
“I meant for you to be somewhere not part of the wizarding world.”
Sirius shrugs him off. It's not like he's actually going.
Peter's fidgeting in his seat like a toddler who needs the loo. “What time will you be back?”
“I wouldn't wait up.”
“But–”
James stands abruptly, reaching over the table to take hold of Peter's arm and drag him with him. “We have to go. Last minute homework assignment.”
And now it's just him and Remus. Sirius is still starving, having been too busy answering questions to eat any of the food piled onto his plate, so he picks up his fork and gets shovelling. Remus is quiet, doing the same for a while, but slower. Like he's contemplating something.
Eventually, he looks up, shakes his head, and says, smiling, “You're not going on a fucking date.”
Sirius smirks, and gets up to go to class.
Another idea pops into his head as he's walking between classes. This is a good day.
He walks faster, still trying to seem nonchalant but desperately not wanting you to get away.
“Hey,” he says, walking beside you.
You jump slightly, hand going to your chest before you realise it's just him. You sigh, flicking his bicep in retaliation. “What do you want?” You sound absolutely annoyed with him. He loves it.
“That's an odd way to wish me a happy birthday.”
You stop walking and turn to him, mouth wide in a genuine, surprised smile. Not pissed off anymore. “It's your birthday? Happy birthday, Sirius. I feel bad, I didn't get you anything.”
He shrugs. “You still have your Halloween costume?” The Gryffindors and Slytherins had separate parties for Halloween, but he caught a glimpse of your outfit when a bunch of people went outside to set off fireworks. You were dressed as a pirate, and the short dress and boots are burned into his memory.
He hopes you saw him, too, and don't think he's being a creepy stalker.
A crease forms between your brows. “What? I mean, yeah, it was just a dress and then someone gave me the bandana to turn it into a proper costume, if only a half-arsed one.” You shrug. “You want my dress?”
“I want you in your dress.”
He sees the realisation as it slowly dawns on your features and you burst out with laughter. “Okay, babe, sure.” You pat his shoulder, beginning to walk towards a classroom on the left. “Why not, eh?”
“Hey,” he calls after you, “and come to my party tonight? In Gryffindor. I'm not supposed to know about it, but Pete talks in his sleep.”
“Sure.”
And then you disappear behind the door, and he's left trying to figure out which corridor he's in and which way his class is.
Sirius didn't manage to fool Remus, of course, but Peter only lasted until lunch before he blurted out about the surprise party. James was pissed, but everything turned out in the end. The party was great, and Sirius got super drunk and tried to swing from the light fixture in the common room, which is a definite sign of success. Everyone who he liked turned up and sang again, this time James and Lily came out holding a cake with candles.
As everyone stood circled around him and singing not very on-key, Sirius’s eyes caught yours in the crowd. He remembered his smile had widened when he saw that you came, like you said you would, and he could see the reflection of the lit candles from the cake in your pupils. Once he'd made his wish and blown out the candles, he went over to greet you with two slices of cake, one for him and one for you. You took yours happily, and you both talked for some more as he enjoyed your dress. Then someone dragged him away for some stupid reason, and he was too drunk later in the night to go back over to you.
Overall, Sirius had a great night celebrating himself with all of his friends, including you.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
A couple weeks later, he's in the common room with James and Lily. He's sprawled out on the sofa while the new couple share the armchair, Lily's legs hanging over one of the arms, James's hand resting comfortably on her knee, occasionally running up to her ankle or down to her thigh. Anyone looking on would think they've been together for years, not a little over three months.
Sirius wonders how they can feel that close to each other so soon. Of course, they've known each other for years, and this relationship was definitely a long time coming. But before they were dating, they were hardly even friends. Sirius fully thought Lily hated James, or at least was annoyed by him constantly confessing his love for her.
And then they arrived at King's Cross in September, and Lily ran straight up to James, jumping in his arms and kissing him as if he'd come back from war. Sirius and Remus had looked at each other, silently questioning if the other knew already. Neither did. Peter was less subtle, sputtering out an ungraceful, “what the fuck?”
From then on, Sirius's life had changed in many subtle ways, and he didn't know how to feel about it. He likes Lily. Of course he does, it's hard not to. But when she and her friends were always crashing the marauders’ hang outs, always sitting with them at dinner…It's different, is all. Sirius will get used to it.
“What about you, Sirius?” Lily says, and he snaps out of his thoughts.
His head tilts, looking at her from a funny angle. “What about me?”
“Do you like anyone? Is there a Mrs Black in our future?”
James scoffs before Sirius can answer, letting out a loud cackle. “I'd like to see someone try and tie down our Pads.”
“Hey,” Sirius stretches his leg and pokes James with it, “people have tried. I'm very desirable. Everyone wants to marry me.”
Now Lily laughs, too.
“But no one catches your eye?”
He thinks about you. You've met up quite a few times now, and it's always nothing more than casual, but it somehow feels more intimate than any of his previous relationships. Of course, you had fainted on him. Did it get closer than that?
He can't see you guys getting married, obviously. He can't see himself wanting to spend more than a year with the same person, let alone the rest of his life. But maybe until he leaves school and you both naturally go separate ways, you wouldn't be bad company. Maybe he would find himself in James’s position in several months' time, if he wanted.
He sighs, slinking further into the sofa cushions. “I'm young, Lil. Not all of us meet the love of our life at eleven. ‘Sides, I'm not into that crap.”
“Told you,” James sing songs. “Pad's a free spirit, babe.”
“I just thought it would be nice,” Lily says, and Sirius can't see them anymore but she must hit James or something, because he yelps. “Don't you think it would be fun to go on double dates?”
“Oh, I'm not good enough for you, eh? I need a girlfriend to become interesting to hang out with.”
“You know that's not what I mean,” she says, teasing. “You could never be boring, Sirius Black. You're a lot of things. But if you're boring, you're not Sirius.”
“Great. I'll stick with being a third wheel, then. You can go on double dates with Pete and his girl.”
“Isn't your friend Marlene dating someone?” James adds.
“No, not yet. She's got a major crush, though.”
They carry on talking between them, and Sirius is hit with the realisation that almost everyone around him is in a bloody relationship. When did everyone grow up and get so into commitment? Every one of his friends, apart from Remus, has a partner.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
He finds you in the library, reading with a pencil in your hand. Before he can talk himself out of it, he walks up to your table and smoothly takes a seat in the opposite chair.
You look up, brushing your hair out of your face where it had fallen forwards. “Oh, hi.” You drop your pencil onto the book and close it, giving him your full attention. “We meeting tonight?”
“Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to go for dinner,” he says, tipping his chin up. “On Saturday, in town.”
Your eyes widen, leaning back in your seat. You pick the pencil up again, rotating it in your hands as you fiddle. “Um, Sirius…” You trail off.
“Yeah?” He's confused for a few seconds, and then it hits him. It sneaks up and then it's all at once like a bad rash, and he realises that he's being…rejected. That you don't want to go to dinner with him. Oddly enough, he had not expected that outcome. “Oh.” He doesn't know how to react. “No, that's fine, I shouldn't have asked. I guess I just figured, because we're–”
You nod emphatically. “No, I know. We should've talked about it, made sure we were both on the same page.” You pause, and he hates the sympathy in your eyes, like you're afraid you'll break him with your words. He's not some fragile thing, he thinks, he can handle the truth. “I'm sorry.”
“So…What is this, then? If you don't want to date.”
You explain, fairly bluntly, if he does say so himself. You say that you thought this was just physical, that you don't want a boyfriend and that you didn't think he wanted a girlfriend. You say how you like how it's easy between you two, and there's no real expectations like there would be in a relationship. To make small talk, or listen to each other complain about their day. You make it clear that you're not doing this with anyone else for obvious reasons, so it's sort of like a relationship in that way, only way less pressure.
When he first registers your words, he's not happy. His thoughts are clouded by the rejection a minute earlier, and he takes everything you say as a personal attack. He's boring? If you don't like him that way, then why are you both even doing this?
But then you keep talking, and he zooms out to think about the big picture of what you're saying for a second.
“Hang on,” he interrupts you. “So you're saying you just want to fuck? You want nothing else from me, no flowers, no dinners, nothing?”
You cringe. “Is that okay?”
He doesn't have to think about it. Damn James and Lily for making him think proper relationships were the goal, he was about to ruin the best thing to happen to him this year.
“Hell yeah that's okay,” he says. “That's great.”
For the first time since he sat down, you smile. “Cool. Good talk.”
“Great talk.” He rises and gets ready to leave, slapping the table. “I guess I'll see you whenever, then. Stupid James.”
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
December
It is great, for a week or so. You've come to your dorm this time, and it's the first time Sirius is seeing where you sleep. It's very telling.
You have stacks of books on your bedside table, and on the floor sticking out from under your bed. He has no idea how you don't trip every day. Going to the bathroom in the middle of the night must be like parkour, jumping from floorboard to floorboard trying not to knock over a pile or hurt your foot. If he was your boyfriend, he'd get you a proper bookshelf. But he's not.
It's afterwards, and there's something different in the air. Sirius can't tell if it's just him, or if something between you has changed. You have taken him to your dorm, after all. You've never done that before. You're both in your bed, which is definitely too small for two people. You're both lingering. Usually it's straight to business, and once that's over, you're out of there. Minus the time you fainted, though thankfully that's been a one time event so far.
You've propped yourself up with pillows, writing something in a notebook with a gentle, satiated look on your face. Sirius has his head on the mattress, by your hip.
“Got any cigs?” He shifts his head to look up at you.
You don't look away from what you're writing. “No, sorry. Don't smoke much.” You smile, still not looking at him, but he knows it's for him. “I'm not trying to have lung cancer by the time I'm thirty. Check Sadie's bed.”
He stands, picking up his trousers from the floor and sliding them back on. “Which one?”
“Left, by the window.” You still don't look up.
He finds a pack in the top draw, and fishes the matches out of his back pocket. The window creaks when he slides the hatch open, and he takes a seat on the windowsill, blowing the smoke outside.
“What are you writing?” he asks after a while, once he's bored of smoking and wants to talk.
“Hm?”
“You're always writing in that notebook.” He puts out the cigarette, throws it out the window, and returns the pack to where he found it, coming back over to join you on the bed. In some foolish act of bravery, he rests his head on your chest. He tells himself it's because there's no room.
The notebook snaps shut, and you hide it on the bed next to you, almost sitting on it.
“Nothing,” you say. “Just stuff. My thoughts.”
“Oh yeah?” He grins, looking at you sideways. “Any thoughts about me in there?”
You shove him off you playfully. “Yes, actually.”
He perks up in surprise, recovering quickly from the shove, like a meerkat. “Really? Give us a look.”
When he reaches over you to grab the book, you roll over, clutching it away from him and safely to your chest. And in doing so, you roll onto the floor. You squeal, and the notebook opens during the fall, landing on folded pages which he can now see are full of writing. He has to decide whether to help you or steal the notebook while you're down.
He ends up spending too long just looking at you—a mess of bent limbs on the ground–and you sit up.
“Fuck you!” You laugh.
“I think you already did that.” He sits back on his heels. “You really don't want me to see it, huh?”
“No, you know what? I'll read it to you.” You pick it up, smoothing out the slightly bent pages. “Sirius Black is such an annoying git–” You break off into another squeal when he jumps forward, joining you on the floor and tackling you in the process. You fall back, nearly hitting your head, while he falls forward on top of you. “I wish he would take the hint and leave me al–” He cuts you off again, tickling under your arms.
“That's not what it says!”
You aren't even pretending to read from the book anymore, your legs spasming out to try and protect yourself from the tickles.
“Alone!” you resume. “He's lucky he's pretty because he is so–” You manage to get him off you, and he lands on the wooden floor beside you, staring up at the ceiling, out of breath– “Dumb,” you finish with a sigh.
He turns his head, being met with your side profile illuminated by the lamp light.
“So you think I'm pretty?”
That evening, the whole gang have spread themselves out across the sofas in the common room. Rain patters against the window, but the fire blazes inside, creating a warm and cosy feeling in the air. James and Lily share the armchair, as has become their spot. Sirius is closest to the fire, sitting cross legged on the floor, bent forward to copy James's notes from the class he missed earlier. Remus, Pete, Marlene, and Mary have all squished onto the sofa. Marlene's blond hair dangles off the seat, though, as she sits upside down with her legs over the back.
Sirius tried asking her why she was sitting that way, but she giggled and winked at him. He didn't try again.
When he'd finished copying down the notes, he looked up, ready to pass them back to James, and saw that he was rather distracted. James had his face millimetres from Lily's as he spoke gently to her—Sirius couldn't hear what—with the widest grin on his face. When he finished, he kissed the corner of her mouth and her shoulders shook with giggles.
It was like they were entirely in their own world, oblivious to the people around them and the argument happening on the sofa less than a metre away from them.
Sirius didn't think much of it, apart from being happy for his friend and maybe wishing they could tone down the pda. Until the next morning.
Now, Sirius rarely dreams. And when he does, he normally forgets them by the time he wakes up. Not this one. This one, he thinks about while he's getting dressed, while he's eating breakfast, while he's supposed to be listening to the professor and writing notes. Oh well, he can just borrow James's again. That's not a problem.
What is a problem is that Sirius had a dream about you. And not the type he got when he was fourteen. In the dream, he had been James last night in the common room, and you…You had been Lily. On his lap, giggling at whatever he whispered to you as he kissed you as if he'd done it a million times before, like it was no big deal. And this time it was you that were oblivious to your friends as they talked around you both.
It was lovely. It was terrible. It couldn't happen again.
So, reluctantly, Sirius knows what he has to do. He's done it before, of course, only under completely different circumstances. Did your relationship even warrant a break-up? What would you do if he just started running away from you if you approached him in the hall?
Well, he may have been a bit of a clueless idiot, but he knew well enough not to do that. He just really didn't want to have that conversation.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
He waits until the end of term to do it, thinking he'll need two weeks where he physically can't see you to get over it. And he really needs to get over it, because he's just pissing himself off now. This isn't like him, not at all. It's almost like he's growing up or some bullshit, but he's eighteen, he doesn't need to grow up yet.
He sends you a note via paper aeroplane, how he usually would to ask you to meet, except this time it says, ‘I need to talk to you,’ instead of the usual, ‘meet in fifteen?’
The paper flies into your chest, and you crouch to the floor to pick it up and read the inside. When you look back up, your eyes search the room for Sirius before finding him leaning against the wall further down the hall. Classes have just let out for the day, also meaning they've let out for the rest of the calendar year. Sirius officially has no more school until 1978, although he has plenty of homework he doesn't plan on doing.
You catch up to him, taking a space on the bit of wall beside him, eyebrows furrowed. “What's up?”
He doesn't miss a beat. He'd figured out what he was going to say while he fell asleep the night before, knowing that if he left it to the moment he'd probably say something shitty and offend you by accident. “I think we should stop having sex. I like someone else, I think, it's nothing about you! But, yeah, I guess we should…stop.”
Maybe this wasn't a conversation to have in the middle of the corridor, but it's too late now. He didn't want to suggest going somewhere private in case you took that the wrong way, and started kissing him, or touching him, and Merlin knows…Sirius is a weak man. Plus, it's not like he's lying to you. He does like someone. Too much. And he has to stay away from them.
You nod, smiling very wide. Almost too wide. “Oh, cool, well I'm happy for you. Is that all?”
“Is–” He'd half expected more of a reaction. You could at least have the decency to look a little disappointed. “Yeah, that's all. Wow, I thought that would go so much worse.”
If possible, your smile gets wider. If Sirius wasn't so preoccupied about not making a dick of himself, he might notice that it's nothing like your usual smile.
“Great. Okay then. Bye.”
You walk away without looking back.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
January
Sirius turns the corner with James next to him, probably talking about quidditch or Lily. These days, it's usually one of the two. But he stops when he sees the boy leaning against the wall next to the portrait entrance to the common room. James must see him too because he shuts up, shooting a questioning look to Sirius.
“Regulus?” Sirius says.
The boy looks up, not having heard them approach. He looks a bit like a kicked puppy, but he doesn't seem physically hurt anywhere. Sirius knows it must be bad, because Regulus is coming to him, and he hasn't spoken a word to him since the night he left. He remembers it as if it was just last week, the sliver of Regulus's face visible from the cracked open door, the way he pleaded with Sirius not to go, not to leave him. But of course Sirius did go, he did leave him. And Regulus had never forgiven him. Until now…maybe?
Sirius gestures for James to go ahead while he sees what this is about, and he climbs through the portrait without looking back.
“What happened?” Sirius wastes no time.
“Did you not get my letter? I sent it to the address you gave me.”
Sirius sighs. He did get the letter, but he recognised the seal and thought it was from his mother, charming it to go up in flames as soon as he realised. Why would Regulus write to him? “No,” he replies stiffly. “What happened?”
“They're trying to get me to marry someone. A girl. They said the betrothal ceremony will be in the summer, and the actual marriage once I'm eighteen.” Sirius notices tears in his brother's eyes. He hasn't seen Regulus cry since they were little kids, he figured Regulus would throw himself off the roof before he let anyone see him cry. “They can't do that, can they? You can't let them do it, Sirius. Please.”
Sirius's heart breaks at the absolute fear in his brother's voice. He wants to tell him he can stop them, that he knows exactly what to do to get him out of this and he will. But there's only one thing he can think of to say.
“You have to run. Just get out of that house, and don't look back. That's your only option.”
“It can't be.” Regulus looks down at the floor, wiping at his eyes roughly. “Can't you talk to them? Or– Or do something. Something, please.” He finally met Sirius's eyes. “I can't run. They'll find me. There's nowhere for me to go.”
“They didn't care when I left.”
Regulus opens his mouth to say something, but stops. He sighs deeply, and says, “It's different for me.”
I'm a slytherin. That's what he means. Sirius doesn't even care anymore.
“Come to James's. His parents will protect you.”
He silently studies the floor, lip trembling and blinking fast. Sirius can only watch. Eventually Regulus shakes his head, clenches his fists and says, “Forget about it. I'll figure out what to do, like I always have to,” and before Sirius can stop him, he storms away, up a staircase.
He tries to run after him, but the fucking moving stairs move, and in the time Sirius is stuck trying to figure out which route to take, Regulus is long out of sight. He doesn't know what he'd even say to him if he did catch up to him. They aren't kids anymore, that much is obvious.
At least when they were kids, Regulus still came to Sirius when he was upset, no matter how mad they were at each other. Usually in the middle of the night, Regulus would sneak into Sirius's room and under his covers. Sirius would make him feel better with a simple cuddle or a cup of warm milk, that was all it took when they were six.
There are less than two years between them, but Sirius always felt much older, much more protective of Regulus than perhaps he should've.
Now that they're older, Sirius fears he can't fix things with a cuddle and warm milk. In fact, he thinks if he tried to hug his little brother, he might get punched in the face. He tried to ignore the panic that sets into his bones. If Regulus never forgives Sirius for leaving, will they ever speak again? When they're adults, will they just live separate lives? Will their kids even know each other? If they're walking in the street, and run into each other, will Sirius’s kids scream ‘uncle regulus!!!’ or will they ask him, ‘who's that, daddy?’
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
“You're pathetic.”
Sirius tilts his head to the side without taking his eyes off you. “Hm?” he says, distracted. James, on his right, elbows his side. Hard. “Wha– Ow!” Sirius's hand goes to rub his side as he whips his head around to look at the culprit. James is smirking, not a trace of guilt on his face. “You fucking bitch.”
“So who's your girlfriend?”
Sirius winces. “She's not my girlfriend.”
Mary, who'd been the one to call him pathetic, says, “You sure? You were getting pretty moony eyed for a second there.”
“I was not.”
“Mate, you so were. Lily'll be thrilled, she'll force us to go on double dates.”
“No,” Sirius replies, surprising himself with the sternness in his voice. “She's not my girlfriend, she's never going to be my girlfriend. I don't want her to be, anyway. Can we just drop this?”
Mary gasps. “Did she reject you?”
“Of course not.”
“She definitely did. That's why you like her so much, cause you've never been rejected before.” He debates whether its worth it to use his fork to stab his hand to get out of this conversation. There's no other way, they have him surrounded on both sides. He could slip underneath the table and crawl out, maybe. He'll wait to see if it comes to it, but it's good to have something in his back pocket in case. “Oh, Sirius, you're so not as mysterious as you think you are.”
His brows furrow. He is mysterious. Right? He's dark and mysterious and moody. “What is this, insult Sirius Black night?”
“Let me ask you this, did you even have a conversation with her before you asked her out?”
“Oh yeah,” James adds, “for some reason they like to know who you are before going out with you. Women are strange creatures.”
Sirius scoffs. “She knows who I am.”
“Are you sure?”
“Well, I've had my dick in her, so I would hope so.”
They both fall quiet. It feels like the entire hall went quiet at that moment, and that the whole school just heard him say that. Thankfully, it's not the case, and Sirius can hear Remus still talking about some book to Lily and the rest of the usual dinner-hall chatter.
“Mate,” James says, struggling not to laugh.
“Shut up.”
“If you know she likes you then what's the problem?” asks Mary. Sirius has no idea why she cares so much, but he doesn't say anything. He stares down at his plate, moving about some roast potatoes with his fork instead of stabbing his hand. Or the potatoes, to eat them. After a minute of this tense silence, where Sirius is sure James and Mary are silently communicating over the top of his head, James gasps.
“You actually like her. For real, like her. But she doesn't feel the same way, does she?” He pats Sirius on the back roughly. “That's tough mate, I've been there.”
Their entire year knew James had been there, Sirius doesn't know why he said it as if it was new information.
“Stop talking, please,” he grits out.
“It's alright!” James replies cheerfully. “You can do what I did. Remember when I got you and the guys to make me do push ups every time you saw me staring at Lily, or if I brought her up in conversation?”
Sirius looks at his best friend blankly. “You're dating Lily now.”
James smiles brightly. “You bet I am.”
“So how exactly is that supposed to help me?”
Mary nudges her elbow into his, gentler than James had five minutes ago. “You'll get really muscly arms.”
Sirius puts his head in his hands, sighing.
But he does take on James's suggestion in the end, and if one of the marauders or Mary catches him looking at you, he has to get on the floor and give ten push ups. It's very embarrassing, especially if they're in public and his friends decide it would be hilarious to wolf whistle at him.
They turned it into a bit of a game, to be honest. If one of the girls gets on Sirius’s back while he does them, he gets double points. If he does them one-handed, he only has to do five. He's yet to try one handed. If he sings a silly song, he gets triple points. It's unclear what points mean, if anything, but McGonagol did walk in on them while Sirius was singing a silly song, with Marlene on his back.
The worst part was, she didn't even say anything. She stared for a few seconds, and all of them stared back, before nodding and leaving without a word. They all burst into laughter and Marlene fell onto the floor.
In class it's not much of a problem, because Sirius doesn't share any of your classes, but one time he accidentally said your name when talking to Peter so of course, the devil that he is, made him do them right there in the classroom. He did them at the back of the class, and somehow got to ten and sat back down without the teacher batting an eye.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
February
For valentines day, a group of fifth years decided to throw a party for people without someone to celebrate with. And of course, the older years were invited solely because of their access to alcohol. Sirius wasn't complaining, though. He'd rather go to a party and get drunk and have fun than get drunk and smoke by himself in the dorm. James had plans with Lily, of course, having been planning for this since Christmas. Peter somehow still had a girlfriend, and was spending the evening with her. Remus had said he had ‘a date with a book’ when Sirius asked his plans, so Sirius went alone to the party. But he definitely didn't leave alone…
Sirius rolls over in bed, drifting in that soft not-quite-awake-not-quite-asleep level of consciousness. It's warm. He already knows he's going to have a pounding headache today. He doesn't want to get up yet.
Something moves his arm gently back to his side, his hand brushing against his stomach. He groans, and moves it back. It's cramped enough as it is in his single bed. But it moves back again, a bit rougher this time. Well. That's strange.
Sirius pries his eyes open, squinting through the sunlight to see a body next to him. I guess last night went better than expected, he thinks. But then he looks at the face, and sees…you.
Fuck.
You, in his bed. Which means you're in his dorm, where three other people are. His friends. Who knows he likes you, and that he's trying not to, and they're only a tug of a curtain away. Fuck again. If they see you, that's got to be like a thousand push ups. But how is he supposed to get you out without any of them seeing? He can't even open the curtains at the moment without anyone seeing you.
Deciding it's too early for problem solving, especially when he has a hangover, he relaxes his body again and tries to get some more sleep. But it's hard to find a comfy position again, so after bending his legs and contorting his body every which way, he gives in and wraps an arm around you, pulling you to him so that you're kind of spooning. You make a mumbling, humming noise, but he can tell you're still in dreamland and soon your body melts back into his. He joins you, falling asleep comfortably with you in his arms.
The next time he wakes up, he's got a big, cocky smile on his face until he realises you're not next to him anymore. He shoots up in panic until he sees that you haven't gone far at all. You're on your knees near the foot of the bed, facing away from him, sliding back on your clothes from last night. Your head is cocked to the side in a way that makes him think you're listening for something, maybe getting ready to leave and making sure the coast is clear.
He pokes at your thigh with his foot, and you squeal, quickly muffling it with your hands and turning around to look at him. You crawl closer, back over to him to lie on your side, resting on your elbow.
Shh, he mouths, finger to his lips. He leans back on both elbows with a groan.
“Me shh?” You repeat, hardly a whisper. “I was quiet before you poked me. You shh.”
He can't help but smile. He hadn't realised, but he missed the short conversations you guys had. You always manage to bring out his silly side, whether that's for better or for worse.
“I'll shh,” he says. And then you're both quiet for a minute. Someone’s in the shower, Sirius can hear it running. He doesn't know where any of the others are, if they're even still in the dorm. He doesn't know what the fucking time is.
Finally, he can't handle the quiet anymore. “We really fucked up.”
“You think I don't know that, Mr Smartipants?”
“No, like we really fucked up.” He rubs his forehead. “How much did we drink?”
You smirk. “Oh, you drank a lot. I think it's cause none of your mates were there to slow you down.” You pause, now frowning. “I think you fell off a table.” Well, that explained the headache. “No– I think you jumped off a table. You must be a suicidal drunk.”
“I have been told.” Sirius nods gravely.
You're quiet again for a while until suddenly, your face loses all lightness. You look at him, alarmed, very serious. “Did–” you break off, sitting up properly. “You used protection, right? I mean, I know we were drunk, but we weren't that drunk.”
Sirius thinks back, but he genuinely can't remember. He can't even really remember you guys hooking up, or much of the night before that. His head really hurts. “Are you sure we even did anything?”
You look at him like he said something ridiculous. Then your eyes go to his naked chest, and the rustled sheets, and then your bra, silently saying ‘all signs point to yes!’ You must not have seen your bra before, because you lean forward and snatch it up, not bothering to put it on.
“I'm sure, Sirius.”
“How can you be s–”
“I can feel it,” you say flatly.
He tilts his head. “Feel it? What does it feel like? Like…a post-sex glow?”
You look down at the sheets as if debating whether to tell him or not. When you look up, your lips are pulled tight and you say, “sore.”
He has a sneaking feeling that you'll slap him if he smirks, so he tries to hold back. Instead he says, “Oh. I didn't know it hurt afterwards. Does that happen every time?”
You're still glaring at him. He fights the urge to smile.
“I have to go,” you say. “We can't do this again. For real this time.”
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
A couple days later, he finds you in the library. He checked the map today because he really needed to talk to you. It seems like he's always the one going up to you, you're definitely working him hard in this non-relationship. But he's nervous today. He doesn't try to sit down in the other seat at your table like he would normally, instead choosing to stand behind it, gripping the back like a lifeline.
“Hey,” he says, quieter than usual.
You look up, and instead of getting mad like he half expected you to, your eyes soften. Almost like you were expecting him.
“I, uh, remember now,” he continues, this time speaking quietly so that no one overhears. “And I think you were right, about me not…”
“I took a pill,” you interrupt. “It's fine. We're good.”
He raises his eyebrows. “You did?”
You nod. “It's all handled, you don't have to worry. How's your head?”
“You tell me.”
“What?”
“I've never had any complaints.”
You stare at him for a moment, seemingly also confused, and then roll your eyes, lips twitching like you're fighting a smile. “I meant the head attached to your neck.”
“Oh!” That made a lot more sense. “Yeah, I have a concussion, but I'm fine.”
You frown, like his pain causes you pain, and it does something to his heart that he finds unsettling. No, you dumb fuck, she's just a nice person. With empathy. Remember that old thing? It doesn't mean anything.
Awkwardly, Sirius says goodbye and leaves you in the library. But he's still thinking about you as he walks the halls, and he knows that it's going to be even more of a struggle now not to go up and talk to you every time he sees you. Maybe he should up it to twenty push ups every time.
At the start of the year, he'd thought it would be easy to be in a casual relationship. That he wouldn't even think about you unless he was with you. He'd thought he was the cleverest person alive, getting to be with a hot girl and not have to do any of the other relationship crap. But now he felt like the dumbest person alive.
He knew you didn't have feelings for him other than finding him attractive, you'd made that perfectly clear from the start and throughout. You're not interested. So it's his own fault now that he actually likes someone—properly—for what he thinks is the first time in his life. He's been in proper relationships, sure, and they were nice enough, but eventually they started to feel like burdens. Like another thing on his to do list, another thing he'll try at and fail.
He's messed up so bad, let himself get so deep, that he's now noticing things and thinking of you.
How novel. It needs to stop.
When it snowed a couple weeks ago, he wanted to go and find you, to tell you about it as if you couldn't see for yourself. Maybe you would've had your nose in a book, and he'd be the one to tell you, and he'd be the one who put a smile on your face. He's never cared about snow before. It's the fucking weather, shit falls from the sky all the time, theres nothing special about it. It's not the snow that's special, he reminds himself, it's you. But everything is better when you're with another person, surely it's not exclusive to you.
Sirius couldn't quite bring himself to go and find one of his friends to experience the snow with them, they'd probably make fun of him.
With the realisation that his little crush was getting out of hand, and he was losing himself—getting flustered about the snow? Come on—Sirius decided he had to do something about it. Something more than just push ups every time his friends caught him mentioning you in conversation. That clearly wasn't working, if the Valentine's party was anything to go by.
So he does the only thing he can think of. He distracts himself.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
March
It's a cloudy Saturday afternoon and Sirius, for reasons he's failing to remember, finds himself in the library, studying. It was Remus's idea. Or rather, Remus mentioned that he was going to study in the library and Sirius invited himself along. Fuck knows why he thought that was a good way to spend a weekend afternoon.
He's been coming here a lot lately, rarely on his own because he always ends up getting distracted and more times than not, a detention. But he'll tag along with Remus, James, whoever. He even crashed a study date with Marlene and her girlfriend one week, but they didn't seem to mind. Sirius doesn't actually need to study that much, but he usually finds a book interesting enough or he simply hands in his homework on time for once. He's sure to worry his teachers if this plays on for too long.
Being in a castle in the middle of nowhere in Scotland, there weren't many distractions, so Sirius could only do his best. He'd been doing more training with James, which his muscles did not thank him for, although between regularly working out and all the push ups, he was becoming very fit. Because of this, he'd also become a bath person.
After a long day, a shower was just so unappealing in comparison to getting straight into bed. Especially their leaky shower with terrible water pressure. So he'd started having a warm bath, both to soothe his aches and because James tires him out so much on the field, it's easier to wash lying down.
When you add candles, a cigarette or two, and a record into a mix, it's actually quite nice. Sirius can now say that he gets the appeal. Not that he would ever admit it to anyone.
The good thing about all this was that it actually seems to be working. Sirius is a genius. You very rarely cross his mind out of the blue anymore, and it probably helps that it hasn't snowed, but he's never wanted to come and find you to tell you something. You never really did that in the first place, he supposes.
“You're going to fall and crack your head,” says Remus without looking up from his papers.
Sirius holds onto the shelf as he tries to balance on the back of a chair. “I'm getting a book from the top shelf.”
Remus hums. “Which book?”
“The…book. It's just a book.” Sirius stutters, and loses his grips briefly on the shelf. He tilts backwards with the chair but manages to get it forward again, restabilising himself. “Hey, we should bring our brooms here before the end of the year. I reckon it'll be...” He trails off when he sees, over the top of the bookshelf, you. With Regulus. In fact, Regulus has a hold of your arm, and is dragging you with him towards the front of the library.
“Will anyone be in your dorm?” Sirius hears him say. He hasn't seen or spoken to his brother since January, when he told him their parents were arranging him to get married, and this is quite the shock.
He almost falls off the chair. Surely he can't mean…his little brother…and you…does he even know what that is? But surely you wouldn't…it has to be against some sort of rule to have two brothers. Surely.
“No,” you're replying. “But I don't know if this is a good idea–”
Good. Say no. Don't go with him.
“We'll only be quick. How long do those things take, like five minutes?”
Oh, sweet Merlin's tits. There's just no way that this is happening. No way! And five minutes? No fucking WAY! He had guessed Regulus is inexperienced in that department, but he almost laughed at the genuine curiosity in his voice. If it only lasted five minutes, Sirius didn't have anything to worry about.
But he shouldn't have anything to worry about anyway, because you're not his. You can do whatever you want. It's his own fault you're not doing it with him anymore.
He watches you, still getting dragged by Regulus. You look nervous, even, which Sirius is confused by. You never had any trouble speaking your mind with him.
“Um,” you say, “a little longer, I think. I don't know–”
Sirius doesn't have a chance to hear the rest, because he's falling backwards, his head hitting the carpet with a hard thud. Pain shoots through from the back of his head and he groans, sorely sitting up.
“Told you so,” Remus says, still without looking up from the textbook.
“Oh fuck you.”
There goes all the progress he'd made for getting over you.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
April
The next few weeks, it's almost like he's jinxed himself by thinking he'd finally managed to forget about you. Now, you're everywhere. Since he saw you in the library, he's run into you at a party—with regulus, he might add—and, possibly even worse, he saw you shopping for lingerie with Marlene's girlfriend.
Were you really going out with Regulus? Of all people?
This evening, though, he hasn't so much as run into as spotted you across the room. It's not unusual for you to be in the dinner hall at the same time, but this particular time is like the final nail in the coffin.
He can't get away from you.
You're seemingly sat with a group of people—at least, they keep talking to you, and you either give them one-word answers or a simple smile before going back to your plate, but rarely eating anything.
It's not as if Sirius is watching you like a creepy fucking stalker would. No, there's no creepy fucking stalker here. It's just that you're sitting right in his eyeline; even if he wasn't looking at you, you'd still be there in the corner of his eye.
“Hey,” he nudges Remus, sitting on his right. The girls are bust tonight, or something, and it's a rare evening with just the marauders at dinner. “Does y/n look okay to you?”
“Pads, come on.” Remus sets his fork down, giving him an unimpressed look. “Just eat your fucking food and I won't make you do push ups.”
“I'm being serious,” he insists, “I'm genuinely concerned, she doesn't look well.”
Your cheeks have definitely lost some colour, he thinks, turning back to watch you. And you're eating so slowly, like you feel sick and are only eating because you have to.
“Why don't you go and ask her?” Remus says dryly. “Remember to mention that she doesn't look well, I'm sure she'll love that.”
James leans forward to add more chips to his plate, simultaneously dipping his nose in their conversation. “What's that?” he says to Remus.
“Old loverboy over here is genuinely concerned about y/n.”
James snorts, dipping a chip in barbecue sauce. “She's not yours to be genuinely concerned about, mate. Now come on, you know the drill by now.”
Sirius groans, dramatically throwing his head back before getting up and lowering himself to the floor in position. He does the ten, he hardly breaks a sweat when he has to do them now, but he still thinks you look ill once he's finished.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Sirius can only think about his bed.
“You're such a baby. Stop limping, it wasn't that bad.”
He groans, wanting to whack James in the face, but that would mean lifting his arm, and he doesn't think he can even if he really wants to. James really worked him hard tonight, they don't even have any games coming up. Next time James offers to train with Sirius, he will say no. He knows that now.
“You,” he breathes out, “are evil. You tried to kill me.”
They reach the dorm at last, and Sirius waits for James to open the door. He shoots straight for his bed, flopping on top of the covers dramatically and groaning with relief.
“I take it training went well?” Remus asks from his bed opposite.
“He's just being a drama queen,” James says before grabbing a towel and heading for the bathroom.
“He's trying to kill me, moony!” He stares up at the ceiling with a scowl, listening as Remus laughs. “Hey, that's a song isn't it? Drama queen?” Taking deep steady breaths, Sirius maneuvers himself into a sitting position so he can look at Remus while they talk. He's shirtless, just in pyjama bottoms, with a harsh bandage wrapped around his shoulder. Other than that, it seems like he had a rather successful full moon last night. “I think y/n likes that song.”
The werewolf gives him an unimpressed look, which…isn't that different from how he normally looks at Sirius, but he still raises his eyebrows, silently asking what this one means.
“That's push ups,” he says.
Sirius groans, holding back a scream, and realises his mistake. “Mate, if I do ten push ups I won't get back up until Sunday.”
“It's your own rules,” Remus laughs. He's a real giggleshit tonight, isn't he? “You wanted to be held accountable, so we're holding you accountable. I saw her today, actually. And I think the song you mean is Dancing Queen, not Drama Queen.”
“What?” Sirius demands, ignoring that last part. “You saw her? Where?”
He seems to contemplate it for a second, like he's not so sure he should be telling Sirius this. “The infirmary.”
“What?” Sirius repeats, even more urgently. “What do you mean?”
“Wow, you actually like her, don't you?”
What a stupid fucking question. “No.” Neither of them believe it. “It doesn't matter anyway.”
Remus is quiet for a while. Then, “I think she's dating someone.” he pauses. “Sorry, mate.”
Sirius shakes his head. He would've noticed if you were dating someone, and you're always alone when he sees you in the halls. Not to mention your conversation a few months prior, the whole reason Sirius was left feeling like James of all people recently.
“You see her snogging someone?” he asks.
Remus recoils slightly, giving him an odd look. “Um, no.”
“I'm not worried. She said she doesn't want a boyfriend or anything.”
“So you told her how you feel?”
Sirius tries not to cringe at his use of ‘feel.’ It just feels so…emotional. And Sirius is not emotional. “Are you joking? Of course not, you muppet.”
“So how do you know she doesn't want a relationship?”
“She told me. Very plainly, back when we were…messing about.”
It's silent. Neither of them speak. The only sound is the faint run of the shower and James quietly humming to himself in the bathroom.
Sirius feels all the blood drain slowly out of his face. His vision goes blurry for a moment, but he blinks forcefully a couple times and it goes back to normal. Remus is watching him anxiously.
“Where's the map?” Sirius says, leaning over to check his bedside table. His body aches with the stretch and he tries to ignore it.
“You're not going over there now,” Remus says sternly. “It's nearly eleven pm.”
“Where the fuck is the fucking map?!” He groans when he stands, and has to sit down again briefly before getting right back up again. As he walks, he can feel his muscles screaming for him to stop, to lie back down.
Then he realises that's just Remus.
He finds the map on Peter's bedside table, and feels Remus behind his shoulder as they wait for it to appear on the currently blank parchment.
“Are you sure?” Sirius asks, though he knows Remus wouldn't have said if he wasn't. “How do you know?”
He just nods, eyes trained on the paper. “I could hear the heartbeat.”
That causes Sirius to stop for a moment. “Hang on, you can hear our heart beats?”
“Not all the time,” Remus says, in a tone that lets Sirius know to drop it. He returns his attention to the map.
They quickly find the Slytherin common room and dorms, eyes scanning frantically for your name. When he spots it, Sirius nearly tears the map into pieces.
“Please tell me I'm hallucinating because of the shock,” he says, forcing himself to be calm as he hands the map over to Remus. Remus already saw it but pretends to check again. He looks like he's trying not to laugh, the corner of his lips lifting up ever so slightly before he regains control of them.
“No way.” Remus shakes his head, now using his hand to cover his snicker. “That must be a glitch, or–” he breaks off to laugh. Sirius wants to slap him and get him to realise how serious the situation is for him. “Or something,” Remus finishes.
Before they can speculate any more, Peter bursts through the door, cheeks flushed red from exertion.
“Oi, what are you two doing by my bed? What have you done to it?”
Wordlessly, they both agree to return to their own beds. Sirius is still limping.
Peter stands a metre away from his bed, eyeing it suspiciously before daring to step any closer. “Genuinely, what the fuck'd you do?”
“Nothing, wormy,” Remus says. “We were just looking at the map.” Then he turns to Sirius, who's sitting on the edge of his bed looking down at his hands. “You can ask her tomorrow, okay? Get some sleep.”
Sirius nods, knowing there's no point going now. He can't walk that far, and he doesn't even know what he'll say yet. But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.
His own brother, and his…whatever you are. Mother of his child, apparently. Wow, that's big. That's fucking huge. He's going to have a kid? Is he ready for that?
He just can't believe you like Regulus. Of course, he saw you together at the party a couple weeks ago, but he mainly used it as an excuse to come and talk to you. He didn't actually think you'd be into someone like his brother. He was wearing a cape, for Merlin's sake. But he did see you also in the library, a few days before the party…And in Hogsmeade with that other girl, shopping for lingerie.
Sirius scoots back, lying his head on the pillow and waving his wand to close the curtains to give himself some privacy. For hours, he lies there, listening to the sounds of the dorm and thinking. Just thinking. About everything.
content warnings: heavy talk of abortion, brief mention of reader having an absent mum
wc: 3.3k
a/n: want to state that I am absolutely pro-choice all the way!! abortion is very heavily discussed in these next few chapters even though (spoiler alert) reader does not choose to go through with it. However, that is her choice, because she's lucky enough to HAVE that choice. Many people are not that lucky.
and as usual, fuck jkr
first part prev part series masterlist
When you get back from the library late Monday night, you're greeted by the sight of your trunk by the entrance to the dorms. With a note stuck to it, labelled with your name in very clear letters. What is it with people telling you horrible things via letter these days? You don't even bother to read the note, unsticking it roughly and carrying it with you upstairs. You're exhausted. You just want to get into bed and disappear from the outside world for 10-12 hours. Instead of stomping like you'd prefer to do, your legs are heavy, head foggy, and it's more like a stumble. Even your knock is weak.
It's Sadie who answers.
“What is this?” you hold up the note, waving it in her face. “Why is all of my stuff downstairs?” When you try to enter, she pulls the door tighter so that only she fits through the gap.
“Ooh, I don't think you want to do that, babe.”
“Sadie.”
Her face morphs from smug to no-nonsense. “We had a roommate meeting, and it was agreed that you can't stay here anymore. You're pregnant, constantly hogging the loo, always complaining, you're messy. Frankly, you're terrible to live with. And we've had enough.”
You bite down the urge to repeat her words in a high pitched, mocking tone. “You can't kick me out, you don't own this dorm.”
“I'm sorry, I thought we just did.” She winces, mocking you. “Yup, just accept it, y/n. If you try to come back, even while we're not here, we've charmed it so that you'll turn bright green. All of you. Slytherin pride, eh?”
Unfortunately, most of your fight is gone. You'll be furious tomorrow, maybe, if you get an okay night's sleep—-which you won't, because you're basically homeless now. Despite feeling like yelling, smacking, kicking, and causing a right fuss, your voice is at normal volume, and your tone only mildly infuriated. “Are you actually serious? Do you know how insane you sound right now?”
“We all voted on it.” She shrugs as if she's not pure evil. Like shes not the reason witches are stereotyped as cruel and ugly and evil. “Okay, bye now. It's supposed to be warm tonight, lucky for you.”
You actually can't believe it. You stand there for a minute after she's left, just staring at the closed door in utter disbelief. Eventually, you head back downstairs, but your jaw stays firmly on the ground. No one's left in the common room, so you do the only thing you can think of at that moment and settle yourself down on one of the sofas for the night. You'll figure out a better thing to do tomorrow, but for now you just need rest.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Ever since that first test with Regulus, you'd been considering it. Of course you have. And Madam Pomfrey mentioned it briefly, ensuring that you knew you had a choice and that her job wasn't to judge you. Then came that letter from your father. It was foolish, but you genuinely hadn't thought seriously about what you'd do after you graduate. You always assumed you'd at least be able to stay at home until you found a job, though. And you couldn't be homeless with a baby to look after, but you wouldn't even be homeless if you do what your parents want. But is that what you want?
You're still in the library, having hidden at the back until it closed so you could sleep in there. Yesterday morning you got woken up by a fifth year sitting on you, a rather large one at that, and you don't fancy having a repeat. Hence your rule breaking and hiding under a blanket for an hour until everyone left. Now, it's late. The full moon shines bright through the window, stars scattered around it only just visible through the glass. You write in your journal, arguments for and arguments against getting rid of the little bean inside of you.
So far you have:
for
-won't be homeless in summer
-I'm young, do I want to be changing nappies before 20? yes
- might be allowed back in my dorm
- haven't been travelling yet
- I don't have a mum, how do I know how to be a mum
- would probably have to do it all on my own
against
-always wanted to be a mum
-have until November to find a home for Baby (note- ask around town for jobs. can't hurt)
- really cute socks
- potentially traumatising so is birth
- sirius's baby would be beautiful
You stare at the page for a while, thinking. It's not an easy decision, and it's not a small one either.
Before you know it, sunlight streams through the window, waking you up. It beats getting sat on yesterday, but you're still not happy waking up so early. Your notebook is still open on your chest, you sigh, closing it, and get up to start the day.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
“Are you sure, sweetheart? I have no problem with whatever you want to do, but I don't want you doing something you don't want to do. Have you thought it through properly?”
“I have, this is what I want.”
Madam Pomfrey just nods. “Okay then. Just take a seat, I'll go and find the correct medicine. I'll talk you through everything when I get back.” She leaves, and you carefully exhale, trying not to let your mind spiral. This is the right thing to do. You have your whole life to have a family, this will just become something you look back on and grimace at how stupid you were for getting knocked up by a practical stranger. The curtain screeches with Pomfrey's return, but her hands are empty. “Actually why don't you sit with Remus while you wait? You're both friends, aren't you? Remus, sweetheart, do you mind having some company?”
She goes back behind the curtain and now you hear another voice, this one deeper. Their voices are garbled and you can't make out the words, but it isn't long before the pale curtains are pulled back altogether, now nothing blocks your sight of the boy in the bed next to yours. He's got a bandage over his shoulder, a new addition to the faint white scars littering his skin, you assume.
He gives you a friendly look.
You tentatively take the seat by his bedside. “Um. Are you alright?”
He looks like he expected the question, answering quickly and smoothly. “Oh I'm fine, just a graze.”
The silence is thick, filled with unspoken words. He's Sirius's best mate, you keep reminding yourself, what if he can tell and then he tells Sirius? If everything goes to plan, by next week there won't even be anything to tell Sirius. You should ask him something. Say something. Anything. Just don't mention Sirius or pregnancy at all. Okay, what does that leave?
Exams? Boring.
Graduation? Boring.
The weather? What are you, pensioners?
“So you're killing Sirius's baby?”
You whip your gaze up from the floor, looking at him. He's staring at you expectantly, as if he'd simply asked how your day’s going.
“What?” you say, too shocked out of your mind to come up with anything else. In the years you've known Remus, you've never been close, but he's always been friendly. From observing him with others, you've noticed he's generally nice to most people. Those who deserve it, at least. His question is way out of character. Or maybe he's decided you don't deserve his kindness, lumped you in with people like Snape.
“You're friends, right?” he says, giving you a friendly smile, his entire demeanor different. This is the Remus you recognise. You have no idea what happened ten seconds ago, it's as if he was possessed for a moment. “I think I've seen him talk to you at parties.”
“I talk to everyone at parties.” You can't take your eyes off him. You feel as if you're hallucinating, or in a dream maybe. Did he really just say that? And then continue the conversation completely normally? Surely not.
“Ah. So he isn't special? I'll be sure to let him know, that'll probably keep his ego in check for about two hours.”
“Do whatever you want.” You stand from the chair, searching for a place to go. Your eyes catch on a door with a bathroom sign. Perfect. “I don't care.”
“Um– Okay? Maybe you should just wait for Madam Pomfrey to get back.”
“Why would you say that?”
You head into the bathroom, the door swinging closed behind you with a squeak.
Madam Pomfrey gives you what you need, letting you go with a promise that you'll return if anything feels off. The pills burn a hole in your pocket as you walk to the common room to try and get some more rest. You got found sleeping in the library that morning, and you probably can't spend the night there again. Just as well. Soon, you won't be pregnant anymore, and you'll make more of an effort to be a better roommate.
Why does that make you sad?
You have it all scheduled out. At the weekend, you'll take the final pills. You'll take the first one tonight, and the next one tomorrow morning, before the final dose that evening. Which should mean everything will be over by Sunday night. Like nothing ever happened. It will be difficult, you'll probably cry, but then you'll get your life back.
Maybe you could get something to remember it by. Or make a page in your journal. You won't decide now.
You think you can convince your roommates to let you back if you're no longer pregnant, and you plan to start with Elise. You've been avoiding her this week, but it isn't like she's been dying to talk to you, either. You saw her turn the other direction to try and hide from you when you came around a corner in the hallways yesterday. It's what you expected—Elise hates conflict. If someone's upset with her, which to be fair, rarely happens, she likes to avoid them until they forget about it. But that's not good enough for you. If you need to bite the bullet and forgive her for kicking you out, you…can't do it. Nope. No way. You thought you could, but now that you're thinking about it properly, you never want to speak to that bitch again.
How could she do that? You realise that it was most likely Sadie and Magnolia who pushed for it, but Elise didn't even try to stop them. Wow, you're pissed. You didn't realise it until now.
You get up from the sofa and decide to work off some of your angry energy, heading outside. You take a walk around the grounds, slowly, admiring things you never noticed before. A flower bed, how the castle looks from afar, the newly sprouted trees, bright green for spring. You narrate for Baby, talking low under your breath.
“This is the lake, we swim in here sometimes, when it's warmer in the summer. But we have to be careful of the squid. Other than that, it's normally a fun afternoon if it's by the lake. Also a good study spot, but that's boring, so don't worry about that.”
It's only fair for you to show it nature. The spring landscape is beautiful, colours and plants popping everywhere, so many different, quiet lives out here in the grass.
You sit down at one point, pulling out your journal to sketch different flowers you've picked. You're not much of a drawer, but you don't care.
When you get back to the common room, you think you're feeling better. The sunshine did you some good. But Regulus is there, sat cross legged on the floor by the fire, and his eyes crinkle when he sees you.
You think it's his version of a smile.
“Hi,” he says, “I haven't seen you recently. How are you doing?”
And you just…break. It's very sudden and unexpected, and poor Regulus looks terrified. You weep into your hands right there, melting to the floor, and everything pours out of you.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Regulus has a dorm to himself. There are four beds, and it's practically identical to your dorm, only neater, because Regulus has the dorm to himself. It's only him. If he wanted, he could rotate which bed he sleeps on each night for four days until the cycle would repeat. Who knows what to do with that kind of power?
You only know this, of course, because he took you there yesterday evening. After you had your meltdown in front of him, confessing the fact you didn't have anywhere to sleep anymore at some point between cries, he was very obviously uncomfortable. But, you had judged him correctly. While he may not be the politest—or even polite, sometimes—he was kind. There is real goodness inside of him. Or, perhaps he felt guilty for having three spare beds and wanted to get you to stop crying as soon as possible. Either way, who are you to complain? He's letting you stay with him.
He was also surprisingly helpful about what to do re your pregnancy, letting you talk it out with him.
“I think it's normal to feel upset or like you're doing the wrong thing. What matters is if you're actually doing the wrong thing, take your feelings out of account, and think logically. You can't feed a baby with love.”
“I did make a pro and con list.”
“Okay, how'd it turn out?”
“It made more sense to get rid of it,” you admit, dejected. “Everything's just so uncertain at the moment, you know? I have no idea what I'm doing once I leave school.”
He nods. “And you haven't told Sirius?”
You cringe. When you spilled that detail to Regulus, you may have forgotten that Sirius was actually his brother. At least he wasn't being weird about it, though you know as soon as you start feeling better, he's going to tease the shit out of you. “Would you tell him if you were in my position?”
“You realise you just asked me what I'd do if I—a man, with man parts—was pregnant with my brother's baby?”
Did he really just say man parts? Wow. Erase that from your ears, please. “I just mean, you know him. Really know him. Is there any point telling him if I'm probably just going to get rid of Baby?”
He's quiet for a while, not looking at you anymore. He sighs deeply, and speaks as though it hurts. “All I know is, he won't be happy if he finds out from someone that isn't you.”
“Remus knows. They're, like, best mates. Like they literally sleep next to each other. I'm so fucked.”
By the time you both turned the lights out for bed, you've made your decision but haven't taken anything yet. You aren't happy about it, but Regulus has made you realise it doesn't matter if you're happy when this is a human life you're talking about.
You can't feed a baby with love, Regulus had said. And he's right.
You have to face the truth, which is that it's not realistic to have a child when the next six months will be the most important of your life, and could genuinely go in any direction. Who knows how soon you'll get a job? What if you have to get an unpaid internship and work up some experience before getting hired by any well-paying employer? There's too many possibilities.
You kick yourself that you're such an everyday planner, yet when it comes to as far as next month, that becomes too much. Why couldn't you be the type of person who's known what they want to do since they were five years old?
As you snuggle beneath the covers of a bed for the first time in four days, you let out a deep, relieved sigh. It's so damn comfortable. Probably because this mattress is never in use.
You fall asleep fast with the reassurance that while the next few months might be difficult, and you know you'll probably always carry grief with you, it will be okay. That's it. Just okay.
But just okay is a privilege you have, that many others don't, and didn't. You can keep going on just okay, knowing it won't be that way forever.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
You eat a late breakfast taken from the kitchens rather than the great hall, as you walk with Regulus through the castle. It starts as an aimless wander, but then he remembers he has to check in with a professor about an essay.
When you turn the corner for the potions classroom, there's one too many people up ahead for your liking.
Elise calls your name, leaving Marlene behind to catch up to you.
“Um, I think I'll just catch up with you later,” you tell Regulus, already turning around. He nods, but doesn't continue walking, sticking around to watch your interaction with Elise.
She runs past him without even looking at him. She says your name again, “Please. I want to explain.”
“And I want you to leave me alone.” You shrug. “Isn't that funny?”
“Just give me two minutes, I'm begging you. It's horrible without you there, I miss you, they–”
“Elise,” Regulus cuts her off calmly. “She said she wants to be left alone. I think the least thing you could do right now is do what she wants.”
“Right.” She's like a wounded animal. Her shoulders hunch with the rejection, face fallen. “Okay, I just…I'll wait. But please come back soon.”
“That's not my choice,” you remind her.
She nods, and heads back to her girlfriend. No sorry. No question of how you're doing, how you've been. No wonder where you've been staying, if it's safe.
Wow. Pregnancy really does bring out everyone's true colours, even if they're not the one pregnant.
It kind of sucks.
You smile at Regulus, silently thanking him but he doesn't acknowledge it. He just says he'll see you in his dorm later, and zooms off down the corridor. Must be really keen to get his homework done.
So, you head back down the halls, walking slowly without any particular destination in mind. You admire the portraits hung on the walls, knowing in the back of your mind what it's time to do. But somehow you end up outside.
You pass the gates, the small crowd gathered on the green. You think you spot Sirius and his friends in the crowd, and decide it's probably best to get as far out of their sight as possible.
You go a different route to yesterday, and show Baby the rest of the castle.
It's busier than yesterday, all the students being out of class and enjoying the first warm weekend of the year. But you still talk under your breath, occasionally pointing at something you're talking about like a freaking tour guide.
You're sure you look ridiculous to any onlookers.
“Who are you talking to?
You know who it is before you turn around. Of course you do, you were half expecting this ever since you found out. And because he's not just anyone.
Sirius Black has a presence, everyone around him feels it. It's how he draws you in. He speaks, and you know it's him, even if you can't see him. He walks into a room and the entire atmosphere shifts to make room for him. He looks at you, and your stomach does somersaults.
His gaze burns into you, warming your back. You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and slowly turn to look back at him.
Just the sight of him nearly knocks you off your feet.
Both of you are quiet for a moment as you look into each other's eyes. Nature hums around you, unaware. His eyes are tired but glint beautifully in the spring light. He's not happy.
Finally, he says, “Why didn't you tell me?”
end a/n: just to clarify, because I tried to make it clear from yn's pov but I don't think I did a very good job, Remus did NOT say that. that was reader projecting her own thoughts and judgements, and that's why she freaks out and kind of hallucinates/imagines him saying that. I just want to make that clear because I love remus and he would never say something like that (imho)
moving on... how sweet is regulus!!! ugh we all need a friend like him. and Sirius knows!!!! so excited for the next chapter lmao
thank you for reading!! don't forget to like/comment/reblog if you liked it <3
content warnings: heavy talk of abortion, brief mention of reader having an absent mum
wc: 3.3k
a/n: want to state that I am absolutely pro-choice all the way!! abortion is very heavily discussed in these next few chapters even though (spoiler alert) reader does not choose to go through with it. However, that is her choice, because she's lucky enough to HAVE that choice. Many people are not that lucky.
and as usual, fuck jkr
first part prev part next part series masterlist
When you get back from the library late Monday night, you're greeted by the sight of your trunk by the entrance to the dorms. With a note stuck to it, labelled with your name in very clear letters. What is it with people telling you horrible things via letter these days? You don't even bother to read the note, unsticking it roughly and carrying it with you upstairs. You're exhausted. You just want to get into bed and disappear from the outside world for 10-12 hours. Instead of stomping like you'd prefer to do, your legs are heavy, head foggy, and it's more like a stumble. Even your knock is weak.
It's Sadie who answers.
“What is this?” you hold up the note, waving it in her face. “Why is all of my stuff downstairs?” When you try to enter, she pulls the door tighter so that only she fits through the gap.
“Ooh, I don't think you want to do that, babe.”
“Sadie.”
Her face morphs from smug to no-nonsense. “We had a roommate meeting, and it was agreed that you can't stay here anymore. You're pregnant, constantly hogging the loo, always complaining, you're messy. Frankly, you're terrible to live with. And we've had enough.”
You bite down the urge to repeat her words in a high pitched, mocking tone. “You can't kick me out, you don't own this dorm.”
“I'm sorry, I thought we just did.” She winces, mocking you. “Yup, just accept it, y/n. If you try to come back, even while we're not here, we've charmed it so that you'll turn bright green. All of you. Slytherin pride, eh?”
Unfortunately, most of your fight is gone. You'll be furious tomorrow, maybe, if you get an okay night's sleep—-which you won't, because you're basically homeless now. Despite feeling like yelling, smacking, kicking, and causing a right fuss, your voice is at normal volume, and your tone only mildly infuriated. “Are you actually serious? Do you know how insane you sound right now?”
“We all voted on it.” She shrugs as if she's not pure evil. Like shes not the reason witches are stereotyped as cruel and ugly and evil. “Okay, bye now. It's supposed to be warm tonight, lucky for you.”
You actually can't believe it. You stand there for a minute after she's left, just staring at the closed door in utter disbelief. Eventually, you head back downstairs, but your jaw stays firmly on the ground. No one's left in the common room, so you do the only thing you can think of at that moment and settle yourself down on one of the sofas for the night. You'll figure out a better thing to do tomorrow, but for now you just need rest.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Ever since that first test with Regulus, you'd been considering it. Of course you have. And Madam Pomfrey mentioned it briefly, ensuring that you knew you had a choice and that her job wasn't to judge you. Then came that letter from your father. It was foolish, but you genuinely hadn't thought seriously about what you'd do after you graduate. You always assumed you'd at least be able to stay at home until you found a job, though. And you couldn't be homeless with a baby to look after, but you wouldn't even be homeless if you do what your parents want. But is that what you want?
You're still in the library, having hidden at the back until it closed so you could sleep in there. Yesterday morning you got woken up by a fifth year sitting on you, a rather large one at that, and you don't fancy having a repeat. Hence your rule breaking and hiding under a blanket for an hour until everyone left. Now, it's late. The full moon shines bright through the window, stars scattered around it only just visible through the glass. You write in your journal, arguments for and arguments against getting rid of the little bean inside of you.
So far you have:
for
-won't be homeless in summer
-I'm young, do I want to be changing nappies before 20? yes
- might be allowed back in my dorm
- haven't been travelling yet
- I don't have a mum, how do I know how to be a mum
- would probably have to do it all on my own
against
-always wanted to be a mum
-have until November to find a home for Baby (note- ask around town for jobs. can't hurt)
- really cute socks
- potentially traumatising so is birth
- sirius's baby would be beautiful
You stare at the page for a while, thinking. It's not an easy decision, and it's not a small one either.
Before you know it, sunlight streams through the window, waking you up. It beats getting sat on yesterday, but you're still not happy waking up so early. Your notebook is still open on your chest, you sigh, closing it, and get up to start the day.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
“Are you sure, sweetheart? I have no problem with whatever you want to do, but I don't want you doing something you don't want to do. Have you thought it through properly?”
“I have, this is what I want.”
Madam Pomfrey just nods. “Okay then. Just take a seat, I'll go and find the correct medicine. I'll talk you through everything when I get back.” She leaves, and you carefully exhale, trying not to let your mind spiral. This is the right thing to do. You have your whole life to have a family, this will just become something you look back on and grimace at how stupid you were for getting knocked up by a practical stranger. The curtain screeches with Pomfrey's return, but her hands are empty. “Actually why don't you sit with Remus while you wait? You're both friends, aren't you? Remus, sweetheart, do you mind having some company?”
She goes back behind the curtain and now you hear another voice, this one deeper. Their voices are garbled and you can't make out the words, but it isn't long before the pale curtains are pulled back altogether, now nothing blocks your sight of the boy in the bed next to yours. He's got a bandage over his shoulder, a new addition to the faint white scars littering his skin, you assume.
He gives you a friendly look.
You tentatively take the seat by his bedside. “Um. Are you alright?”
He looks like he expected the question, answering quickly and smoothly. “Oh I'm fine, just a graze.”
The silence is thick, filled with unspoken words. He's Sirius's best mate, you keep reminding yourself, what if he can tell and then he tells Sirius? If everything goes to plan, by next week there won't even be anything to tell Sirius. You should ask him something. Say something. Anything. Just don't mention Sirius or pregnancy at all. Okay, what does that leave?
Exams? Boring.
Graduation? Boring.
The weather? What are you, pensioners?
“So you're killing Sirius's baby?”
You whip your gaze up from the floor, looking at him. He's staring at you expectantly, as if he'd simply asked how your day’s going.
“What?” you say, too shocked out of your mind to come up with anything else. In the years you've known Remus, you've never been close, but he's always been friendly. From observing him with others, you've noticed he's generally nice to most people. Those who deserve it, at least. His question is way out of character. Or maybe he's decided you don't deserve his kindness, lumped you in with people like Snape.
“You're friends, right?” he says, giving you a friendly smile, his entire demeanor different. This is the Remus you recognise. You have no idea what happened ten seconds ago, it's as if he was possessed for a moment. “I think I've seen him talk to you at parties.”
“I talk to everyone at parties.” You can't take your eyes off him. You feel as if you're hallucinating, or in a dream maybe. Did he really just say that? And then continue the conversation completely normally? Surely not.
“Ah. So he isn't special? I'll be sure to let him know, that'll probably keep his ego in check for about two hours.”
“Do whatever you want.” You stand from the chair, searching for a place to go. Your eyes catch on a door with a bathroom sign. Perfect. “I don't care.”
“Um– Okay? Maybe you should just wait for Madam Pomfrey to get back.”
“Why would you say that?”
You head into the bathroom, the door swinging closed behind you with a squeak.
Madam Pomfrey gives you what you need, letting you go with a promise that you'll return if anything feels off. The pills burn a hole in your pocket as you walk to the common room to try and get some more rest. You got found sleeping in the library that morning, and you probably can't spend the night there again. Just as well. Soon, you won't be pregnant anymore, and you'll make more of an effort to be a better roommate.
Why does that make you sad?
You have it all scheduled out. At the weekend, you'll take the final pills. You'll take the first one tonight, and the next one tomorrow morning, before the final dose that evening. Which should mean everything will be over by Sunday night. Like nothing ever happened. It will be difficult, you'll probably cry, but then you'll get your life back.
Maybe you could get something to remember it by. Or make a page in your journal. You won't decide now.
You think you can convince your roommates to let you back if you're no longer pregnant, and you plan to start with Elise. You've been avoiding her this week, but it isn't like she's been dying to talk to you, either. You saw her turn the other direction to try and hide from you when you came around a corner in the hallways yesterday. It's what you expected—Elise hates conflict. If someone's upset with her, which to be fair, rarely happens, she likes to avoid them until they forget about it. But that's not good enough for you. If you need to bite the bullet and forgive her for kicking you out, you…can't do it. Nope. No way. You thought you could, but now that you're thinking about it properly, you never want to speak to that bitch again.
How could she do that? You realise that it was most likely Sadie and Magnolia who pushed for it, but Elise didn't even try to stop them. Wow, you're pissed. You didn't realise it until now.
You get up from the sofa and decide to work off some of your angry energy, heading outside. You take a walk around the grounds, slowly, admiring things you never noticed before. A flower bed, how the castle looks from afar, the newly sprouted trees, bright green for spring. You narrate for Baby, talking low under your breath.
“This is the lake, we swim in here sometimes, when it's warmer in the summer. But we have to be careful of the squid. Other than that, it's normally a fun afternoon if it's by the lake. Also a good study spot, but that's boring, so don't worry about that.”
It's only fair for you to show it nature. The spring landscape is beautiful, colours and plants popping everywhere, so many different, quiet lives out here in the grass.
You sit down at one point, pulling out your journal to sketch different flowers you've picked. You're not much of a drawer, but you don't care.
When you get back to the common room, you think you're feeling better. The sunshine did you some good. But Regulus is there, sat cross legged on the floor by the fire, and his eyes crinkle when he sees you.
You think it's his version of a smile.
“Hi,” he says, “I haven't seen you recently. How are you doing?”
And you just…break. It's very sudden and unexpected, and poor Regulus looks terrified. You weep into your hands right there, melting to the floor, and everything pours out of you.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Regulus has a dorm to himself. There are four beds, and it's practically identical to your dorm, only neater, because Regulus has the dorm to himself. It's only him. If he wanted, he could rotate which bed he sleeps on each night for four days until the cycle would repeat. Who knows what to do with that kind of power?
You only know this, of course, because he took you there yesterday evening. After you had your meltdown in front of him, confessing the fact you didn't have anywhere to sleep anymore at some point between cries, he was very obviously uncomfortable. But, you had judged him correctly. While he may not be the politest—or even polite, sometimes—he was kind. There is real goodness inside of him. Or, perhaps he felt guilty for having three spare beds and wanted to get you to stop crying as soon as possible. Either way, who are you to complain? He's letting you stay with him.
He was also surprisingly helpful about what to do re your pregnancy, letting you talk it out with him.
“I think it's normal to feel upset or like you're doing the wrong thing. What matters is if you're actually doing the wrong thing, take your feelings out of account, and think logically. You can't feed a baby with love.”
“I did make a pro and con list.”
“Okay, how'd it turn out?”
“It made more sense to get rid of it,” you admit, dejected. “Everything's just so uncertain at the moment, you know? I have no idea what I'm doing once I leave school.”
He nods. “And you haven't told Sirius?”
You cringe. When you spilled that detail to Regulus, you may have forgotten that Sirius was actually his brother. At least he wasn't being weird about it, though you know as soon as you start feeling better, he's going to tease the shit out of you. “Would you tell him if you were in my position?”
“You realise you just asked me what I'd do if I—a man, with man parts—was pregnant with my brother's baby?”
Did he really just say man parts? Wow. Erase that from your ears, please. “I just mean, you know him. Really know him. Is there any point telling him if I'm probably just going to get rid of Baby?”
He's quiet for a while, not looking at you anymore. He sighs deeply, and speaks as though it hurts. “All I know is, he won't be happy if he finds out from someone that isn't you.”
“Remus knows. They're, like, best mates. Like they literally sleep next to each other. I'm so fucked.”
By the time you both turned the lights out for bed, you've made your decision but haven't taken anything yet. You aren't happy about it, but Regulus has made you realise it doesn't matter if you're happy when this is a human life you're talking about.
You can't feed a baby with love, Regulus had said. And he's right.
You have to face the truth, which is that it's not realistic to have a child when the next six months will be the most important of your life, and could genuinely go in any direction. Who knows how soon you'll get a job? What if you have to get an unpaid internship and work up some experience before getting hired by any well-paying employer? There's too many possibilities.
You kick yourself that you're such an everyday planner, yet when it comes to as far as next month, that becomes too much. Why couldn't you be the type of person who's known what they want to do since they were five years old?
As you snuggle beneath the covers of a bed for the first time in four days, you let out a deep, relieved sigh. It's so damn comfortable. Probably because this mattress is never in use.
You fall asleep fast with the reassurance that while the next few months might be difficult, and you know you'll probably always carry grief with you, it will be okay. That's it. Just okay.
But just okay is a privilege you have, that many others don't, and didn't. You can keep going on just okay, knowing it won't be that way forever.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
You eat a late breakfast taken from the kitchens rather than the great hall, as you walk with Regulus through the castle. It starts as an aimless wander, but then he remembers he has to check in with a professor about an essay.
When you turn the corner for the potions classroom, there's one too many people up ahead for your liking.
Elise calls your name, leaving Marlene behind to catch up to you.
“Um, I think I'll just catch up with you later,” you tell Regulus, already turning around. He nods, but doesn't continue walking, sticking around to watch your interaction with Elise.
She runs past him without even looking at him. She says your name again, “Please. I want to explain.”
“And I want you to leave me alone.” You shrug. “Isn't that funny?”
“Just give me two minutes, I'm begging you. It's horrible without you there, I miss you, they–”
“Elise,” Regulus cuts her off calmly. “She said she wants to be left alone. I think the least thing you could do right now is do what she wants.”
“Right.” She's like a wounded animal. Her shoulders hunch with the rejection, face fallen. “Okay, I just…I'll wait. But please come back soon.”
“That's not my choice,” you remind her.
She nods, and heads back to her girlfriend. No sorry. No question of how you're doing, how you've been. No wonder where you've been staying, if it's safe.
Wow. Pregnancy really does bring out everyone's true colours, even if they're not the one pregnant.
It kind of sucks.
You smile at Regulus, silently thanking him but he doesn't acknowledge it. He just says he'll see you in his dorm later, and zooms off down the corridor. Must be really keen to get his homework done.
So, you head back down the halls, walking slowly without any particular destination in mind. You admire the portraits hung on the walls, knowing in the back of your mind what it's time to do. But somehow you end up outside.
You pass the gates, the small crowd gathered on the green. You think you spot Sirius and his friends in the crowd, and decide it's probably best to get as far out of their sight as possible.
You go a different route to yesterday, and show Baby the rest of the castle.
It's busier than yesterday, all the students being out of class and enjoying the first warm weekend of the year. But you still talk under your breath, occasionally pointing at something you're talking about like a freaking tour guide.
You're sure you look ridiculous to any onlookers.
“Who are you talking to?
You know who it is before you turn around. Of course you do, you were half expecting this ever since you found out. And because he's not just anyone.
Sirius Black has a presence, everyone around him feels it. It's how he draws you in. He speaks, and you know it's him, even if you can't see him. He walks into a room and the entire atmosphere shifts to make room for him. He looks at you, and your stomach does somersaults.
His gaze burns into you, warming your back. You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and slowly turn to look back at him.
Just the sight of him nearly knocks you off your feet.
Both of you are quiet for a moment as you look into each other's eyes. Nature hums around you, unaware. His eyes are tired but glint beautifully in the spring light. He's not happy.
Finally, he says, “Why didn't you tell me?”
end a/n: just to clarify, because I tried to make it clear from yn's pov but I don't think I did a very good job, Remus did NOT say that. that was reader projecting her own thoughts and judgements, and that's why she freaks out and kind of hallucinates/imagines him saying that. I just want to make that clear because I love remus and he would never say something like that (imho)
moving on... how sweet is regulus!!! ugh we all need a friend like him. and Sirius knows!!!! so excited for the next chapter lmao
thank you for reading!! don't forget to like/comment/reblog if you liked it <3
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