HEYYYYYY i heard youre in need of mans best friend reqs so hear me out…..
poly!marauders or poly!wolfstar x reader with tears
like all of them just treat reader so so well and are so responsible, maybe she comes home to them all assembling furniture/doing the dishes/considering her feelings/texting or calling her etc. and she just has to have them RIGHT THEN
tysm i love youuuu
ncjicjwkejfi say LESS
tears | poly!marauders
feat. poly!marauders x gf!reader
summary: you return from a girls trip to your devoted boyfriends.
cw: MDNI 18+, smut, modern!au (they have phones and IKEA), poly!relationship, foursome, piv, oral, pet names, dom/sub dynamics, they're all a bunch of sluts for each other
masterlist | divider by @cursed-carmine
[Remi-kinz]: Safe travels dovey. Can't wait to see you tonight
[Jamie baby 💛]: counting down the seconds until i have you in my arms again (ps please grab me some peppermint frogs from the trolley)
[Your Hottest Boyfriend]: see you at the terminal. look for the devastating bloke in leather ;)
[Remi-kinz]: Just found out Sirius is taking the bike to pick you up. WEAR. A. HELMET. Or he’s sleeping on the porch.
[Jamie baby 💛]: please wear a helmet. moony is very cross
[Remi-kinz]: You think I’m kidding. I’m not.
[Jamie baby 💛]: we love you!!!! (and your fragile skull pls for the love of godric wear a helmet)
[Your Hottest Boyfriend]: i'm here, pretty girl ♥️ take your time
You scrolled through the texts as you waited for your turn to exit the train, cheeks aching from the force of your smile. You'd been gone for one bachelorette trip, and they were acting like you'd been off to war.
But, after a year with your boys, you'd expect nothing less.
Finally, it was your turn to disembark. You hoisted your trunk from the overhead compartment, lugging it behind you as you tottered down the aisle. Urgency made your heart race, knowing Sirius was just outside, but you fought to keep a regular walking pace and not mow down the elderly couple in front of you.
The conductor helped you down the stairs, a blessing because you were looking everywhere but your feet. Too busy searching the crowd for one of your favorite faces—there!
Sirius was leaned against the column, dressed in black jeans and his beloved, patch-covered leather jacket, cradling a bouquet of your favorite flowers in his arms.
Your eyes connected at the same instant, a lightning strike, and he grinned. He rushed across the terminal towards you, dodging the elderly and children like quaffles. Plowing through like a man possessed. Single-minded.
He slammed into you with the force of his urgency. One arm looped around your waist, hauling you up into his chest.
“There's my girl,” he cooed, planting a smacking kiss on your cheek.
You threw your arms around his neck, squeezing tight as all the travel stress, all the longing, finally loosened from your shoulders.
Sirius had you. What was there to worry about?
He dipped you backwards, your toes just scraping the concrete, and kissed you with a ferocity that had your head spinning, and the conductor clearing his throat.
“Missed you, doll,” he mumbled against your lips.
“Missed you,” you giggled, your heart gone gooey.
He straightened, setting you back onto wobbly knees. “Trade?” He asked, offering you the flowers while eyeing your trunk.
“Deal.” You accepted the flowers, burying your nose in the fresh, sun-washed scent. Sirius, the show-off, hefted your trunk without any of your earlier struggles.
“What'dya got in here? Feathers?” He joked, draping an arm over your shoulders. He knew exactly what was in there—he helped you pick out all the slutty little outfits himself. “Appreciate you getting her home safe, sir,” Sirius saluted the conductor, who only laughed and shook his head.
“Thank you!” You chirped as Sirius began to push through the crowd. Not that it was very difficult, he had a way of parting the general population of London like the Red Sea.
“So, how was it? Anyone get their eyes scratched out?” He asked with a knowing smirk. Sirius loved a good gossip session. Especially when Remus wasn't around to chastise the two of you for it.
Delighted, you regaled him of all the drama and activities of the weekend, jabbering on while he navigated the train station. He kept you close as you made your way out to the parking lot, protective in the crush of people, but loosened up as the crowd thinned and his motorcycle came into sight.
Two helmets hung on the handlebars.
“Despite what Prongs and Moony think, I am responsible,” he teased. “When it comes to you, at least.”
“I never doubted you, my love,” You pecked his cheek before he shimmied the helmet over your head, careful not to snag your ears. He shirked his leather jacket, offering that to you, too.
You let yourself bask in the warmth of it for a moment, cocooned in all things Sirius. Leather polish and cigarette smoke. That too-musky cologne James got him for his birthday last year. Studs and calfskin armor shelter a gooey center.
With the visor of your helmet flicked up, you snapped a selfie and texted it to the group chat.
[you]: [1 attachment] safe and sound 🫶
Sirius strapped down your luggage and you climbed onto the bike behind him, arms fastened securely around his waist, thighs pressed tight around his hips. Just like he taught you.
“Good girl,” he purred, voice rough and low through the modulator.
A flicker of warmth bloomed low in your belly, heating your cheeks. An involuntary shift of your hips rocked you forward an extra centimeter.
“Hold tight.” His heel struck downwards. The bike started with a thunderous roar. And you were flying.
Together, you tore through the streets of London, a blur of brownstone and November sky. With white-knuckles, you clung to Sirius, exhilaration zipping through you. His hand wandered over your denim-clad leg until his red-hot fingers skimmed the exposed skin of your ankle. They wrapped around the delicate bone, a barrier from the vengeful South London streets.
“Okay, sweetheart?”
“Yeah,” you replied, breathless.
The ride to your shared flat was brief, less than ten minutes, but it still had your heart pounding in your throat and…other places.
Sirius carried your trunk up the stairs while you raced ahead, bursting through the unlocked door.
“Baby!” James cried, jumping up from where he was sitting on the floor, surrounded by IKEA boxes, foam peanuts, and plywood. He was shirtless, dressed in nothing but grey sweatpants, glasses, and a toothy grin. “Fuck, I missed you.” He grabbed you around the middle, careful not to crush the flowers—what was left of them after the bike ride, anyway—and hefted you into the air. Twirled you around once, twice, making you giggle and shriek as you clung to his Herculean shoulders.
“Is that who I think it is?” Remus emerged from the kitchen, slinging a dish towel over his shoulder. He was dressed in joggers and a too-large sweater you’d unearthed from a bin at the consignment down the block. “Careful, Prongs. You'll smother her,” he warned, though his eyes were getting meltier by the second.
“Missed you too, Jamie,” you laughed, fizzing with delight. Your mouth found his as he set you back onto the floor, the kiss a little toothy since you couldn’t seem to stop smiling. He didn’t seem to mind.
“Thanks for the help, muscles,” Sirius grumbled, pushing into the flat behind you. Suddenly fatigued now that James was in ear shot.
“I was building her bookcase!” James argued, releasing you to take the trunk from Sirius. A regular Superman.
“And destroying the living room, apparently,” Sirius teased. Besides the new-furniture wreckage, the flat was spotless. Candles burning and lights dimmed low, soft music floating from somewhere. Natural as an exhale from the lungs of your home.
James huffed. “Well, maybe if you had helped me earlier instead of taking a nap—”
“If you don't want me to take a nap, don't wake me up at the bloody ass crack of dawn when you go for your run!”
You slipped out from between them, sidling over to where Remus was leaning against the entry to the kitchen. His hazel eyes turned molten as you approached, golden in the setting sun. An arm lifted, your favorite invitation, and you tucked yourself into the welcoming curve of his side. He took the flowers from you, setting them on the counter.
“How was your trip, darling?” He asked, nuzzling into the crown of your head. Dropping a kiss there.
“Good,” you murmured, sagging into the warmth of his body. The last of your tension dissolved. A teaspoon of sugar to Remus’ cup of tea. “Happy to be home, though.”
He made a low, appreciative hum in his throat, hugging you a bit tighter. “Why don't you go get cozy while I finish dinner, hm? I know traveling stresses you out.”
“What're you making?” You asked, not quite ready to leave the warmth, the steadiness of his embrace.
“Your favorite,” he replied, fingers wandering beneath the hem of your sweatshirt to brush against your skin. A shiver rolled down your spine, and you felt him smile against your hair. “And chocolate cake for dessert.”
You chuckled. “So, both of our favorites?”
“I think I deserve it after dealing with those sorry saps for an entire weekend. Alone.”
“Surely they weren't that bad…” You trailed off, your other boyfriend's argument ratcheting up to a full-on wrestling match. Though you weren’t sure that whacking your opponent with strips of cardboard counted as wrestling. “Okay, fair enough.”
Remus’ hand came up to cradle the back of your head, tilting your face up towards him. “Speaking of trouble-makers, did you wear a helmet the entire ride?” He asked, the words tickling against your lips.
You nodded, heart tripping over itself.
“And did you hold on nice and tight to our Sirius?”
Another nod.
“And he obeyed all the traffic laws?”
“…mostly.”
Remus tsked. “Well, I suppose that's not your fault, is it, dove?”
You shook your head ‘no’, lower lip jutting out to prove your innocence.
“Such a good girl,” he praised, nipping at your lips before molding his mouth to yours in a syrupy, unhurried kiss you felt all the way down to your toes. He tasted like mint and herbal tea, like home.
Beeeep! The oven shrieked. Remus startled, breaking the kiss to glare at the offending appliance.
“Have to get that,” you murmured, lips brushing against his jaw.
“Yeah, might burn,” he replied, though his hold remained steadfast as he turned his face back towards you.
“Mhmm.” You lifted onto your toes, closing the minuscule gap for another kiss.
Beeeeeeeeeeeeeep! The oven demanded again, more insistent.
You stepped away this time, slipping out of his reach before you could get caught up again. He drew his lower lip between his teeth, turning lazily over his shoulder to head back into the kitchen.
Sirius was waiting for you at the bedroom door, pink-cheeked and hair disheveled. Chest rising and falling quickly. James fared even worse, sprawled out in his mess with a very visible hard-on straining against his sweatpants. Glasses askew. Panting.
Drool pooled beneath your tongue.
Sirius caught your expression, but wrangled you before you could pounce. “C’mon, doll. Let's get you showered and comfy before your three-course meal,” he murmured against your ear, sending another flush of heat beneath your skin.
He led you into the bathroom, but didn't linger, just got the shower set to your preferred temperature, scalding, and laid out a pair of pyjamas. Not the sexy variety he usually selected, but the fuzzy, oversized flannel bottoms you loved, along with one of James’ well-worn Quidditch t-shirts. “Just shout if you need anything—and I mean anything,” he said with a wink before taking his leave.
"Tell James his chocolates are in my purse!" You called after him, then, "And don't eat them all!"
"Sure, doll!" He called back, smirk audible.
Alone for the first time in days, you undressed in the thick, lavender-scented steam of the bathroom, replaying the events of the day in your mind
Bottomless mimosas at brunch with your friends, the scramble to catch the train, the endless rolling hills and rattling track, the boy's sweet texts.
You stepped into the shower, letting it wash away the train smell and stubborn hangover. But what lingered, imprinted on your skin, were the traces of your boys, a smile teasing the edges of your mouth. Your mind conjured the gorgeous flowers, that dramatic, oh-so-Sirius kiss, your body pressed against his as you flew through the city, bike purring between your legs while his hand wandered. So protective, so confident—a throb between your legs made you gasp, the residual burn from their touches fanned into an inferno by your thoughts.
James’ sculpted body, back flexing as he built your bookcase without you even having to ask, the effortless way he manhandled you. Remus, with the towel over his shoulder, that casually sinful glimmer in his eye while he watched your boyfriends fight. The way he kissed you, savoring, decadent, his whispered praise bouncing off the walls of your skull.
Your hand drifted unconsciously between your legs while you washed yourself, and your fingers came away slick, heat dripping down your thighs.
Fuck, just the thought of them had you soaked.
You finished your shower in a hurry, opting for just James’ t-shirt and a pair of panties. The fewer barriers between you and them, the better.
You emerged to find James alone in the living room, lifting the assembled bookcase into its rightful, standing position, and your eyes damn near popped out of your skull. That thing had to weigh over a hundred pounds; the box clearly marked it as a two-person lift. But James made it look easy.
He noticed you once he was sure it wouldn't tip over, catching your blatant ogling, and flashed you a wink. “What do you think? Looks good, huh?”
“Uh huh.” You nodded, crossing the piles of debris to reach him. He really had tried to consolidate it, you could tell, and it stoked that fire in your belly even higher. “Looks perfect.” You wrapped your arms around his waist. Unconsciously, dare you say instinctively, your lips meandered along his chest, his collarbone, tongue dragging over the sun-kissed skin with ravenous abandon. You were only human, after all. And that chest was begging to be kissed.
He chuckled, palming the back of your head while you worshipped him. “I don't know about perfect, but—ah, fuck, baby.”
You sank your teeth into the meat of his pec, savoring the way his muscles jumped and tensed before soothing the marks with your tongue. His fingers tightened in your hair, drawing your head back. You licked your lips, batting your lashes at him. The very picture of innocence.
“Oh, you feral little thing. No funny business until after dinner. Rem’s been slaving away,” James reprimanded, though his tone was heavy with reluctance.
“I know, I know,” you sighed, pouting.
James’ gaze snagged on that dewy lower lip like a dog on a leash, breath going shallow—
“Dove?” Remus called, poking his head out into the living room. “Can you come taste this for me?”
The tension shattered. But you were far from finished.
“Yes, sir!” You chirped, sweet as a lamb.
Savvy, James gave you a chastising smack on the ass as you flitted towards the kitchen.
Remus shook his head at you, a smirk betraying his delight. The kitchen was bathed in warmth, the smell of garlic and butter hanging in the air. A muggle record turned languidly in the corner—Bon Iver.
Sirius was hunched over the island, diligently frosting the two-tiered chocolate cake with his tongue between his teeth, dark waves gathered into a bun at the nape of his neck. He'd lost his shirt, too, though he wore Remus’ “Kiss the Chef” apron, and his scrolls of dark ink were on near indecent display.
You hopped up onto the counter by the stove, t-shirt riding up your bare legs.
Remus’ eyes drifted over the swell of your thighs, but he didn't bite, instead offering you the edge of the spoon he was using to stir the sauce. You took a slow sip, holding his gaze, smoldering enough to scald.
It was perfect—his cooking always was—and you moaned, head falling back with pleasure.
Sirius dropped the spatula with a clatter, cursing under his breath.
“Cheeky girl,” Remus teased, setting the spoon back into the pot. His hands found your knees, spreading your legs so he could step between them. His lips found your temple, pressing featherlight kisses along the curve of your cheek until he reached that tender spot beneath your jaw. His sandy, two-day-old facial hair tickled the sensitive skin as his lips painted a petal-soft bruise.
Your thighs tensed around his hips, pulse leaping as his long fingers crept closer to where you were aching for them.
“Patience, darling,” he murmured. “Makes the reward that much sweeter.” And with that, he stepped away. Returning to the stove like he hadn't just thrown a match onto a puddle of gasoline.
As dinner progressed, it became abundantly clear that your boys were aware of your little…. predicament. Feeding you off of their forks, socked feet brushing along bare calves, lingering looks. Borderline excessive stretching and lip biting.
By the time Remus cut the cake, you were sitting in a pool if you own slick, thighs aching from an hour of squeezing them together.
James’ hand skimmed along your thigh, fingertips digging into the muscle in slow circular motions. “So tense, lovey. Feeling alright?” He asked, a hint of a smirk at the edges of his mouth.
At the end of your rope, you seized your opportunity and wrapped your fingers around his wrist, urging him higher. He complied, eyes shading as you spread your legs, bringing his fingers between the crux of your thighs. Letting him feel the slick that had seeped through your thin panties.
His jaw went a little slack, drawing a sharp inhale through his nose. Without a word, he slid off his chair, wedging his bulky body beneath the table.
“Jamie, what are you—” his hands gripped your inner thighs, wrenching you to the edge of your seat and forcing your legs apart. You hadn't even drawn a full breath before his mouth was on you, the muscle of his tongue laving a forceful swipe through your weeping pussy. “Oh, fuck—” you gasped, drawing the other boy's attention from cake-cutting logistics.
“Where did—” Sirius lifted the tablecloth. Peered underneath. “Oh, you greedy bastard.”
You could barely hear him over the roar of your blood in your ears, pleasure surging through you like a storm swell. James thrust his tongue inside of you, relentless as he drank you down. A low groan quaked through him, a distant roll of thunder, chased by a current of electricity striking your nervous system. You knotted your fingers into his dark hair, grinding his nose into your clit as you rocked against him.
“Oh my god, James—,” you moaned, throwing your head back as another bolt crashed through you.
“Couldn't wait another ten minutes?” Remus asked, but his eyes were shining with satisfaction. He loved nothing more than driving the rest of you to your breaking points.
Fortunately for you and your ego, James always folded first.
Sirius scraped a bit of frosting off his cake, licking the utensil clean while he watched your face contort, shoulders curl, as James devoured you. “Looks gorgeous, doesn't she, Rem?”
Remus hummed in agreement, rounding the table towards you. His fingers skimmed your shoulder, gliding upwards to cradle your face. You nuzzled into him, brushing your lips against his palm.
James’ tongue flicked up to your clit, drawing it between his teeth, and you gasped, tugging at his roots. He alternated pressure, gentle swirls broken by hard, rhythmic pulls that had sparks dancing behind your eyelids.
“You held out longer than I thought you would,” Remus murmured, stroking your hair out of your face with a saccharine softness. “Thought you'd break Sirius when you got in the shower, but—”
“I have self-control, unlike someone,” Sirius ribbed, casual as anything, slouched in his chair.
You loosed another cry, James doing something that made your lower belly coil sharply, and Sirius’s eyes darkened, betraying his nonchalance.
A wicked idea slithered through the fog in your mind.
“James, baby, fuck—make me feel so good,” you whined, and felt James smirk against you. Ever your co-conspirator.
“Taste so sweet, always so good f’me,” he added, the wetness clinging to his words almost obscene.
Sirius' expression darkened further.
Remus leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead to hide his own smile. More indulgent than the forgotten chocolate cake.
“Careful, now, dolly,” Sirius warned. “Or I might stop being such a gentleman.”
James eased two fingers inside of you, your body already soft and willing, lashing at your clit anyway to distract from the stretch. You keened, clutching onto Remus' arm as it wrapped around your shoulders to steady you.
Sirius’ fingers were a steady drum against the table.
Taptaptaptaptap.
A second warning.
“That's it, baby. Is that what you needed?” Remus asked, voice like honey-wine. “Needed Jamie to take care of that sweet little cunt?”
The scrape of a chair was your third and final warning. But you were too distracted by James’ curling fingers to heed it.
Remus brushed a final kiss to your temple before shifting away, and a pair of hands landed on your shoulders. The cool bite of rings jarring you back into the room.
Sirius leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “My turn.”
James untangled himself from your lower half just before Sirius yanked your chair backwards roughly. His hands slipped under your arms, lifting you onto unsteady feet. With a less-than-gentle push, he bent you at the waist over the table. Grip hard on the back of your neck. Pining you like an animal.
You had to bite your lip from crying out right then and there. Heart pattering like a rabbit against the back of your ribs.
“They're wrong, love. That's not what you needed, is it?” He growled, the jangle of his belt making your stomach flip, slick running down your thighs. “You want to get treated like a princess, then fucked like a whore, isn't that right?”
You nodded, lifting your hips to press against him. Dumb as a bitch in heat.
“Words, pet,” Remus ordered.
Sirius’ cock sawed through your slit, tucked beneath your sodden panties, thick and so fucking warm. Frenum piercings catching your clit just right. A rough hand palmed the globes of your ass, the kiss of his rings a heady contrast to your burning skin.
“C’mon, let him hear it.” James brushed your hair out of your face, dizzyingly tender compared to Sirius’ rough handling.
“Yes, f-fuck me like a whore—please, Siri,” you whined, fisting the tablecloth.
“That's my girl.” He notched the tip at your entrance, slamming to the hilt with one, ruthless punch. Even soaked as you were, the stretch still made you grit your teeth, your belly pressed against the wood making things infinitely tighter. He cursed under his breath, head falling against your shoulder, grip softening on your neck. “Merlin’s sake, dolly—fuck, are you tryin’ to kill me?”
You could only mewl, so full you could hardly breathe. But the satisfaction was mind-numbing, so acute, tears pricked along your lower lashes, soaking conspicuously into the fabric below.
“Look at that, Pads,” James whistled, “Makin’ her cry already.”
“Oh, she needed this bad,” Sirius panted, setting a slow, but punishing rhythm. Tearing you apart just to stitch you back together again. His piercing dragged against your front walls, catching that spongy spot below your belly button with infuriating, intoxicating accuracy. “Miss us that much, pretty?”
You nodded, arms flailing around for something to hold as you climbed perilously higher and higher, vision going blurry, brain leaking out from your eyes, from between your legs. Sirius grabbed both your arms, folding them against your lower back in a tight, one-handed grip. Started fucking you even harder, pounding into you with brutal determination. Hitting that spot over and over and over again.
“Say it,” he growled.
“M-missed you, missed you so—ngh—so fucking much,” you babbled, nails biting into his wrist, holding on for dear life.
From the corner of your eye, you saw Remus lean back against the table. James was on his knees in front of him, hurriedly tugging down the waistband of his joggers. Remus’ cock sprang out, slapping salaciously against his lower belly. Flushed pinker than the strawberry frosting and framed by mahogany curls. James swallowed him down with ease, eyes locked on Remus’ expression as it crumbled into bliss.
You cunt fluttered around Sirius at the sight, drawing a grunt from deep in his throat.
“Fuck, sweetheart—gonna make me come if you keep that up,” Sirius groaned, releasing your hands so he could fist your hair. He dragged you up, arching your spine to its limit, drilling in at a sharper anger that had you making an almost inhuman sound. “That's it, fucking take it—” his hand found your throat, gripping just tight enough to restrict your airflow, “—take it like such a good whore. Our dirty slut.”
“Yes, yes, yes—fuck, I’m gonna—” your orgasm crested and shattered, unraveling you in an endless euphoric instant.
“Give it to me, give it all to me—such a good dolly—” Sirius fucked you through it, your cunt squelching obscenely as you fell apart for him, your entire body convulsing with the force of your undoing. He released your throat only once the first wave passed, letting you catch your breath.
He withdrew suddenly, leaving you empty, unmoored. Hands found your hips, spinning you around and tossing you up onto the table. Before the room stopped spinning, his mouth was on you, drinking down your release like a starving man. Ravenous.
“Oh, god, Sirius—” you cried, so sensitive you were twitching up the table, trying to retreat from the intensity of it. But his hands were like iron, holding you in place as he drowned in his reward.
“Easy, mutt,” Remus chastised, his voice a little frayed from James' attention. “Let her breathe.”
Sirius made a grunt of displeasure, but slowed anyway, obedient. Stealing a few more lush licks through your twitching pussy as you shuddered and whined. Pressed a farewell kiss to your puffy clit before sitting up.
He guided your arms around his neck, cooing softly to you, but you were too drunk on oxytocin to really hear him. Suddenly, you were airborne, Sirius’ arms bracketed around your thighs. You buried your nose into his neck, trying to get your bearings even as the world moved around you, your body still hair-trigger sensitive.
“Jamie and Remus are gonna have theirs now, love, okay? Can you take a little more, or do you need a break?” Sirius asked, lowering onto the nearly made bed. All concern and tenderness as he settled you against the nest of pillows.
“Love you,” was all you could think to say, and his smile was brighter than the sun.
“Love you too, sweet girl. But we’re gonna need a ‘yes’.”
James and Remus stood on either side of you, gooey-eyed and flushed, and you nodded.
“Yes, please.”
You lost track of who was where, who came when, and how often, adrift in a sea of delirium and bliss. By the time you all were finished, your bodies and the sheets were damp with sweat and god knows what else. Disheveled and delirious, entirely too wrung out to do much more than mouth absently on Remus’ shoulder where your head had fallen.
His hand curled around your cheek, brushing your sweat-slicked strands from your eyes. “Worth the wait, dove?”
You nodded, eyes fluttering closed as his hands combed through your bedraggled hair. Someone’s hands skimmed over your lower back, your hip, massaging away the stiffness and fatigue. Another swiped a warm rag between your legs, cleaning you up with careful strokes.
You melted into it, their easy affection and tender touches. Piecing you back together like a sacred statue. Mending your cracks with gold and sweetness until you were whole again. And all you had to do was lie there and accept it, something you struggled with in the beginning. But, over time, and with a lot of gentle, but persistent coaxing, you’d learned that not only were you allowed to accept their generous affection and care, you deserved it.
You deserve partners who look after you, show up without question, and take responsibility for the space they occupy in your life.
summary: After your apparent betrayal, your boyfriends are left juggling with their unresolved grief and anger. That is, until Riddle is declared dead. The war is over. Then a bloodied body stumbles back into their lives.
tags: angst, lots of angst. hurt with various attempts at comfort. mentions of blood and violence. death is a plot point in this fic.
a/n: oooo my first poly!marauders fic!! and of course i had to make it unhealthily angsty! i’m sort of geeked about this one, it took me a while to finish it but i’m happy with the final outcome. as always, likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated, enjoy!! xx
—
Sirius exhales deeply, looking away from the bed and the lumps of his boyfriends sleeping soundly in front of him, neither of them waiting to shake off their own high. The adrenaline is still coursing through his veins as well, coming out in short puffs of smoke as he pushes the cigarette on the ashtray. The rage too, though he suspects it’s mostly a second skin at this point. An unwanted and constant visitor in their home.
So is your absence.
His eyes flicker to the door, then to the closet, the bed… where you’d be sleeping soundly between James and Remus. A lump forms in his throat at his eyes mapping out the movements you had done before he ceremoniously fucked everything up with his bothersome anxiety–when he yelled at you and pointed fingers for something he himself didn’t even understand. Sometimes, late at night when the weight of war is still heavy on his shoulders, he punishes himself remembering that night.
Tinkling lights, pecan pie smell in the air, laughter despite uncertainty. Your cottage was full of life despite the war outside its windows, where one would find you and Remus tutting to each other until one would tap out from one your endless banters to prepare dinner, James running around menacingly spreading his happiness and love with little sloppy kisses and cuddles to whoever was free and Sirius… always sitting back, basking on the home they’ve created, one he never thought he’d be worthy of in the past.
He laughs–oh, how wrong he was.
“Sweetness!” He yelled, pointedly ignoring James’ loving jab as he twirled around the bannister, glistening eyes waiting for you to appear by the end of the stairs. “Dinner’s almost ready!“
A thud. Then a muffled, nervous curse. Your steps picked up on movement.
Sirius had frowned in confusion, wondering whatever you’d be doing to cause such commotion. He cut a quick glance at his boyfriends, and after deeming them properly occupied with one another, climbed up the stairs to check up on you.
“Coming!” Your answer came quickly. Too quickly, and your voice sounded frantic. Sirius’ brows furrowed.
He stopped by the door, left ajar, almost closed. That was strange, none of you were in the habit of closing it. His heart twisted to its own accord, mind coming to different conclusions.
He knocked softly. “Lovely?” At the touch of his knuckles at the door, it opened with a creak.
Sirius stepped in despite his best judgments, not suspecting anything other than maybe a small misunderstanding–you probably had tripped, or dropped something, he foolishly thought. However, the sight he encountered was far different, a recipe for heartbreak and despair. You were packing a bag in haste, hurried movements, but froze as he pushed the door open, stepping in with slow steps.
“…What are you doing?”
Your shoulders gravitated to your ears, eyes wide much like your heart was on your throat, similarly to him. The remaining clothes in your hands shook, an indication of your own body betraying your nervousness at being found out. Sirius took a short, tentative step closer, his eyes not leaving yours.
“Sirius–I… I was,” you swallowed thickly, eyes flickering from the door to him, almost begging for him to close it. To get an opportunity to dig your secret, hide it along the bag left open by the bed. “It’s not–it’s not what you think, love. I promise.”
“It’s not…” he frowned, looking down to make sure he was, in fact, not imagining things. That his frail mind wasn’t concocting more illusions to harm him. “It’s not what I think? Why are you packing your things, then?”
You cringed, stepping back to put down the clothes. Sirius noticed the way you placed them into the bag, not away–proving it was exactly what he thought.
He swallowed the lump in his throat.
“You’re leaving?”
You screwed your eyes shut, forcing the tears he had noticed in the corners of your eyes to finally let loose, sliding down your cheeks like a tide, a bad omen. Sirius sucked in a breath, watching as you pushed the clothes deep into the bag, and closed it with finality. To him, James, Remus–to all of them.
“I must go,” you whispered, passing a harsh hand over your cheeks. Sirius’ eyes stung with unshed tears. “It’s for your own good.”
At last, a bitter laugh escaped his lips. “Since when do you have the bloody right to dictate what’s good for me?” he took a step to you, and his heart twisted at the way your grip around your wand tightened in response. “Tell me the truth. Now.”
You shook your head, turning to take your bag. And as a desperate instinct, his hand reached for it before your fingers could grasp the handle.
“Sirius–please. Don’t do this.” you pleaded quietly, your cold hands touching him over the handle.
Your promise ring glistened over his hand, his own ring shining in response. Its love charm had been working overtime to patch the cracks in his heart.
“Me?” he asked, a startled albeit bitter chuckle left his lips, staring at you in disbelief. “You’re the one packing your things.”
“I know… I know,” you nodded, the tears on your jaw continued their trail all the way down to your neck. Sirius’ lip quivered, his fingers twitching to reach for you to clean them. “I have to.”
Steps shuffled closer, then, an unsuspecting quip. “Oi, are you two leaving me out of something?” James called out, climbing up the stairs.
Your eyes widened more, if it was physically possible, and Sirius almost felt bad for it–but he was desperate. He fully opened the door as James walked closer. His steps faltered at what he saw, and you finally let go of your bag to turn away, to turn your back to them in order to collect yourself.
“Everything alright?” James asked cautiously, hazel eyes flickering between Sirius and you as he slowly entered the room. He frowned at the bag in his boyfriend’s hand. “What’s that for?”
Sirius’ jaw tightened, pointing at you.
“Ask her.”
James turned to you, tilting his head as he scanned you quickly. His eyebrows pinched at your tears.
“Is something wrong, lovie? What happened?”
It had Sirius’ desired effect, however, not the reaction he expected. You simply snatched the bag from him in his distraction, a hiccup leaving your lips before you could stop it as you pushed past him, running down the stairs before neither of them could get a word out. James had only thrown an accusatory look at Sirius before turning to run after you, firing rapid questions that only made your hiccups turn erratic.
He followed the voice of your sobs, of James’ hurried, desperate voice–then, Remus.
“Dove, you’re scaring me. Why are you crying?”
“I can’t do this,” you mumbled, shaking your head the closer Sirius got. It was only a matter of time until he met you three by the door. “I promised. I promised I wouldn’t say anything–Please stop asking.”
“Promised what?”
You shook your head, shoving your foot into your boots instead of meeting their gazes–their panicked, worried gazes. When Remus moved to reach for you, Sirius only raised an arm in front of his stomach, stopping him from even taking a step. His betrayed heart controlled him despite his own loving nature when it came to you.
“Promised who, y/n?” Sirius asked this time, voice purposefully cold. Both James and Remus cut a warning glare at him–at his implications. But Sirius only took a step closer. “Riddle?”
He watched in unusual satisfaction as you froze, his lip twitched in an almost bitter smirk when you stood straight to meet his own glare. A tense silence blanketed your otherwise cozy cottage, and both Remus and James’ stances changed as they fully registered the question thrown at you–and how your silence was an answer on its own.
You scoffed. “Of course,” you muttered, passing a harsh hand over your cheeks again. Your stance changed too, one of anger that they hadn’t seen in a while. “Of course you’d think that, Sirius.”
“What else am I supposed to think?”
You shook your head, shrugging your coat on with shaky movements–anger and despair radiating off you.
“I would never betray you that way and you know that.”
“You’re doing it now, aren’t you?”
“Enough.” Came Remus’ voice, cutting through the tension as he walked to you, pushing Sirius’ arm from his way. However, you took a step back, almost pressed against the door.
James sighed. “Love–please, just… just tell us enough to understand.”
“What’s the point? You’d still think I turned–that I’m leaving you to join Riddle.”
Sirius couldn’t help it. “And? Are you?”
“Sirius.”
“Answer me.” he only said, pointedly ignoring Remus’ frustrated plea.
“Sirius, enough.”
He watched, eyes stinging with tears, as you held his glare, then turned to your boyfriends as if saving the last images of their faces in your memory–all before tightening your hold on your wand and turning to walk out the door.
Not at all deigning to answer his question.
But the answer came, eventually. After weeks of silence, mourning your absence–his answer came in the form of a grainy, barely visible photograph in the Daily Prophet. Next to his well known death eater brother and his friends.
“…Sirius?”
He blinks, looking away from the closed door to meet James’ half-lidded gaze, his voice drowsy as if he just noticed Sirius wasn’t by his side.
“Go to sleep, James.” he only murmurs, reaching over to grab a brand new cig from his nightstand.
“Hey–”
“Go to sleep.”
Hurt passes over his face, and Sirius momentarily regrets his harshness, if only he had done such a thing months ago–if he had remembered he had two loving boyfriends left that surely wouldn’t leave him for a genocidal cult. But they all had their own coping mechanisms, if James can cling to his quiet denial, and Remus to his raging silence, Sirius thinks his anger is well earned.
Nights are mostly spent that way, heavy with grief and anger depending on who’s awake and willing to embrace it. Sometimes Sirius himself would wake up to find Remus wandering around chain smoking with that permanent frown on his face, others to James’ staring out the window, cheeks glistening with tears he never had the desire to clean. On rare occasions, they’d all be granted a full night’s sleep.
Tonight is, apparently, not one of them. As James rests back on his elbows and studies him over, knowing better than to insist, Remus only sighs from his side of the bed before pushing himself up to trudge out the room. Not emitting a single word, he hasn’t since you left.
The bad feeling clings to them like a bad omen again, and however they try to suppress it with mindless, empty sex, it seems to follow them deep into the night as the silence makes itself louder in the cottage. Sirius lights up his cigarette, pointedly looking away from James’ sad eyes as he exhales a puff of smoke, hazel eyes staring intensely to the side of his face.
He tilts his head ever so slightly, almost challengingly. “What?”
James’ parts his lips to speak, his Adam's apple going up and down as he ponders on his words. However, a loud crashing sound comes from downstairs, and soon a bright, almost blinding light enters the room. A patronus in the form of a Phoenix.
“He has fallen…. Riddle is dead.” Dumbledore’s voice echoes like a faraway hallucination, Sirius scrambles to stand, pushing the cig over the ashtray. “Location 3. Location 3.”
James jumps off the bed, running to take his trousers and put them on. Remus comes stumbling to the room, usual emotionless eyes staring wide open in shock. The patronus fades into nothingness at their lack of answers, and they remain frozen looking at one another almost in fear of breaking the fantasy of what they just heard.
“Is he…” James clears his throat, very slowly lowering his jumper over his head. “Could this be a trap?”
Remus only shakes his head, but doesn’t offer a logical answer like he normally would’ve done time ago–when his words were a balm to your and all of their war-driven anxieties.
“Well,” Sirius says, pushing past Remus to walk up to the closet, shaky hand reaching for a shirt so harshly the hanger flies off. “There’s only one way to find out. Location 3 is here, whether it is good or bad, we must be ready.”
Remus and James share a look, but both follow Sirius down to the sitting room in silence. Where, ever so faintly, a quiet tinkling sound increases in sound–a pattern well known among Order members to announce their arrival to a secret location. James swallows down a relieved sigh and mirrors his boyfriends’ stances, wands drawn and readily pointing at the door.
However, as it opens, the relieved sigh does leave his lips when Lily walks in with an equally frazzled Marlene in tow, both with red-rimmed eyes searching for answers none of them could offer.
“Did you receive one, too?” Marlene asks, shaky hands brushing hair away from her tear-streaked face. “Has anyone else arrived?”
Sirius shakes his head, at last lowering his wand. “No.”
“Do you think they’ll be able to…” Lily hiccups, but stands tall as she wanders around the room. “To tell us? Where they are? Or if they–”
“Shut up, Lily.” Marlene nearly barks, but shakes her head afterwards, lips turning downward in guilt. “Sorry… sorry, I just–just… don’t say that, please.”
But it’s too late, the ever consuming thought lingering between them grows heavy as the silence stretches on. Secret coding and messages are shared as each member arrives, all of them with endless questions at the tip of their tongues and no one to answer them yet.
Dumbledore’s arrival comes almost an hour later, finding twenty-somethings walking around in dread and anxiety as they wait for him. The old man only makes his way into the cottage in calculated silence, as if testing the tension before launching into explanation.
James, surprisingly, is the first to snap. “Well?” He raises an eyebrow, knuckles white from holding his wand tightly. “Is he really dead?”
“It appears, so, yes.” Dumbledore nods, making a point of turning to look into everyone’s eyes as the truth settles in the room. “I apologize for my late arrival, I needed to confirm certain details with my spies before coming here to deliver the news.”
“Spies?” Someone asks.
“As in Death Eaters?" Someone follows.
A diaspora of questions fly around the room, and all it takes to lower its volume is Dumbledore raising a hand ever so calmly to put an end to their questioning. Sirius cuts a quick glance at his boyfriends, both with tense jaws and staring holes into their past headmaster’s head.
“Many have fallen to serve this cause and secure our victory tonight… Many friends, families, brave people who gave their lives so others may live to see this happen.” He starts, voice monotone and lacking any real comfort to their distress.
Sirius’ fingers twitch for another cig.
Dumbledore clears his throat. “Among them,” He says, tone taking a rather tentative edge that has everyone holding their breaths. “Those who walked in the shadows to fight, who tarnished their reputations in order to secure our future, those whose sacrifices we may never fully know–or comprehend.”
“You mean the spies.” Sirius cuts in, arms crossed tight as he glares at the man, who only nods in return. “Who were they?”
None of them miss the way a sorry look passes over his eyes, hand fixing his half-moon glasses as he turns to continue addressing the room.
“Let us honor our well loved soldiers and friends, Dorcas Meadowes, Regulus Black, y/n y/l/n and Peter Pettigrew in their ever consuming battle to ensure we see the day we’re freed of Riddle’s tyranny.”
And just like that, Sirius feels like the air has been completely, violently sucked out of him. His chest tightens in a way he has to wheeze to get oxygen through, hand clasping his wand desperately as two sets of hands find his back with equal shakiness to what he feels.
However, Dumbledore continues on as if the well deserved reactions were merely a distraction to the monologue he had prepared to explain their victory.
“They bravely took on a very dangerous mission that none of them knew if they’d return from–yet they did to honor the cause, for all of you. Let us not forget their sacrifices.”
Sirius blinks. And his anger comes aflame as he nearly pushes his boyfriends away from him.
“You–you made them go?” Sirius seethes, glaring at the man and seeing red. Who, in return, only sends him a sad smile. “You forced her to go?”
“I merely presented the mission. The decision was theirs to make, Mr. Black.”
Marlene stands, her own eyes a fiery shade. “Why them? Why not any of us? Why… why would you do something so selfish?”
“Because they were the most prepared and skilled people in this Order to fulfill this mission–it was imperative for it to be done by them, otherwise it would’ve failed.”
James frowns. “What was the mission?”
“Horcrux hunting.” He replies easily, as if he was back in Hogwarts, explaining a concept to a first year. James’ clenches his fists. “Mr. Black came to me one night, and told me intel about how Riddle apparently split his soul into six objects to remain immortal. However, he couldn’t pinpoint the location of said objects.”
“So you sent them to a bloody scavenger hunt? Is that it?” Lily’s voice snaps, sucking the air out of the room at the anger taking over her words. “Was it successful, at least? Or you just sent them to their own deaths?”
Dumbledore has the gall to smile. “We’re here, aren’t we?”
The Order falls into an almost silent state, thick with whispers and sniffling as some members begin coming off their high at the news of their victory, others in grieving silence as the truth lingers in the atmosphere. Sirius wants them to leave, to get every single person, whether they deserve it or not, out of his home to let him rage and grieve in silence. To drown in his own guilt, his regret at all the times he wrongfully thought you had betrayed them. By the looks of Remus and James, they’re not so far off from breaking as well, it’s only a matter of time.
Dumbledore clears his throat, but Marlene speaks first. “Were they the ones who killed him?” She asks in a small voice, strained by months of pain and sobbing. “Are they… are they dead, too?”
Every set of eyes fall on the man, who only sighs. “They did, however I can’t tell you who survived and who didn’t.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” James jumps to his feet. “You just said you talked to your spies! Are they dead or not?”
“They weren’t the only spies in our group, Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore says in infuriating calmness. “We know as a fact that they were present the moment Riddle was pronounced dead, but they couldn’t tell me who did it–and if they survived.”
Sirius pushes his wand on the back pocket of his jeans. “Who’s this bloody spy? I’ll talk to–”
A hand holds his arm, with enough strength to pull him back as he takes a step to the door. Remus only shakes his head when he whips his head to meet his gaze. Sirius has half the mind to push him away, to throw cruel words to finish him off, but at the first indication of tears glistening in his boyfriend’s eyes, his shoulders slump.
“No need for such ruckus, Black. I’m here.” A deadpan voice calls, drowned out by the murmurs and whispers among the group.
Snape steps out from his place, his presence silencing the room.
“Ah, Severus,” Dumbledore says, sounding almost relieved at his arrival. Sirius bites back a comment. “What news do you bring?”
Snape’s eyes, ever devoid of emotion, flicker around the room. “Dead, all of them.”
A strained sound comes off James’ lip, denial wrapped in a badly contained sob.“What…? She… she’s dead too?”
“Yes.”
“No.” Sirius says then, before he can stop himself. He shakes his head in anger, taking long strides to Snape before any of his boyfriends or the order members could react. “You’re a bloody liar, Severus–I know you, you’re doing this to taunt me, isn’t it? Is this your well earned vengeance?”
“Sirius.” Lily speaks, her shaky hand comes around his wrist where he’s pointing his wand directly at Snape’s throat. “That’s enough.”
But Snape only swallows, lips twitching. “I’m sorry, Black.” He says, almost sounding a little sympathetic. “She put up a good fight until the end.”
Sirius only steps back, reeling in shock. A hand finds his hand, and he’s being pulled away to his usual spot in a wingback by the chimney. His fingers go numb, so does his mind.
Dumbledore parts his lips to speak, probably at the ready to mutter another vague sentence to cement them in their uncertainty and grief. But then, just to the untrained eye, a simmer begins, increasing in its intensity as the silence stretches on. Remus, already on his feet, draws his wand before any of the order members can realize something shifted.
Sirius, in all his mildly dissociated state, stiffens visibly at the vibrating under his boots, increasing as he stands. The protection charm goes off then, signaling in a frightening way that someone has crossed the concealed, protected barrier around the cottage. All signals that an unknown presence lingers just outside the meadows where Remus and you had placed the first protection spells.
Sirius snaps into action, and so does the rest of the order, members apparate away in panic, others take the Floo powder and flee the scene without a second thought–the small group that stays, jump to action with wands drawn pointed in every direction with a hex at the ready.
Except… for a while, nothing happens. The meadow is as still as ever, wheat flowing with the small busts of wind coming from the west, the starry sky tinkles unsuspectingly.
He’s about to retreat, blaming his paranoid tendencies when he hears it–the quenching sound against the mud, coming in quick, hurried steps as if they were running away from something.
Then, a flicker. Movement beyond the trees, quick enough to pass in a blur, a figure–no, a shape, half-running out of their hideaway, breath louder and louder the closer they get. A person, covered in red–head to toe–sprinting towards the cottage with utter terror, their eyes a blinding, widened white a stark contrast to their bloodied state.
Someone growls a warning, probably him. Sirius sees from his peripheral vision as all Kingsley, Moody and Dumbledore lift their wands, Lily and Marlene take a tentative step forward with shaky movements. But Remus and James still, hands lowering just a smidge. He does, too.
Because they know that run, that gait.
James takes a step forward, then another, and before anyone can react, you slam against his chest so harshly you tumble backward. His arms move to catch you before he can even comprehend what happened, but you’re already scrambling back on your elbows. Eyes wide with feral terror as your hand hurriedly pats the wheat in search of your wand, snatching it like a lifeline once you find it. You’re panting, chest heaving and eyes wild and dilated with survival, you whirl towards James.
Wand pointed directly at him.
James freezes, “Don’t–”
But your hold doesn’t waver, eyes not even looking at him, more like through him, as if assessing his stance. You don’t hear your name in his mouth.
The moon casts its glow on your form, catching on the sticky and sheen of blood all over you, on your neck, your face. your arms, everywhere. You’re soaked with your blood, or someone else’s, most definitely, wearing it like a second skin as you point your wand up at them.
Sirius swallows the lump in his throat, and your eyes snap to him, widened and ferocious with adrenaline as you point your wand at him, then at Remus, then back at James. It seems you’re knee deep into your survival instinct that has barely registered to your traumatized mind that you’re not supposed to fear them–that they would never hurt you.
He holds your crazed gaze, and his chest heaves as you crawl backwards on your elbow, wand still drawn like an injured animal retreating from imminent danger. What sort of hell did she have to claw through in order to survive? Sirius thinks, though he suspects it’s a thought he shares with his boyfriends as they finally lower their wands at you.
“Put it down,” someone says, voice commanding but far away. Maybe Moody, or even Kingsley, it’s hard to make out the tone. “Put the wand down.”
Your grip doesn’t loosen, you don’t blink.
James clears his throat, trying to soften his voice. To swallow his sorrow. “Put it down, love.”
If anything, your shaking increases in intensity, leaves crushing beneath your weight as you crawl away from them. Wand still pointed like a lifeline, like it’s the only thing keeping you upright, adrenaline pumping through every fiber of your body with such vigor Sirius knows he’s not the only one picking up its sound.
At last, he completely lowers his wand with finality, a stark difference to yours as your arm trembles under the weight of your wand, of your instincts to fight. Blood drips from your elbow, fresh, crimson blood. Your jumper is torn, twisted here and there like whoever tried to attack you reached for anything to hold you back. But you don’t move, only your chest up and down as your pants lower in sound until they echo very faintly through the air.
Remus dares to take a step closer, hands out, leaves crunching under his boot as he moves, and your eyes snap to him, fury and dread mixed with the remains of your last duel echoing behind your gaze. Like you’re still running, still surviving.
And James–who is seemingly still reeling, chest heaving from where you slammed into it, says your name again. Softly, like a plea.
“It’s me. James.” He says quietly, voice breaking.
You blink. Very quickly, like you can’t afford a moment of darkness, of uncertainty. But when your eyes flicker between them, there’s confusion–slow recognition of something distant, a life so far away. Your wand lowers a fraction.
Another step, leaves crunching closer to you. You crawl back, half of a movement as you whip your wand at Remus, who only gets closer with every release of air from your lips. His scarred hands come into your view, spread in front of him to show his compliance, that he’d never hurt you.
“D–Don’t,” you mutter, voice cracked and strained, like it pushes through your throat to come out–thick with blood and mud. “Don’t.”
There’s a flicker of movement, and you turn to point at Moody as he limps to you, your eyes hardening where they meet his eyes. “Identify yourself.” He snarls, pointing his wand at you in return. Then, as if he thinks better of it, “Were you followed?”
“Don’t speak to her like that.” Sirius snaps, withdrawing his wand to his back pocket, away from sight.
Moody pointedly ignores his jab, holding your glare with one of his own. “Who are you?”
You back away, grip tightening once again around your wand in response. The fight simmering in your veins waiting for the moment to lunge at him, to fight or flight.
“Did Riddle send you?” He presses, eye twitching when you visibly flinch at the mention of your fallen leader. “To finish us off? Speak.”
You shake your head, swallowing thickly. “I–I didn’t mean to,” you say, voice wavering and at odds with the stoicism in your hold around your wand. “I didn’t… I didn’t–” you falter, so does your arm.
Then, in a second of thick silence, where your erratic breathing slows to a simmer of survival, Remus lowers himself in front of you, shaky hands still spread out in soft warning. Your eyes follow his movements, widened and studying him to find a flaw in his attempt at proximity. Leaves crunch under his knees, which crack as he kneels before you with nothing but care to offer, however you seem too deep into your own head to recognize his comforting presence.
“Don’t–Don’t,” you whisper, watching with a flicker of confusion as he leans, very slowly, closer to you. The tip of your wand hovers inches in front of his chest. “Please, I… I–Not you, too.”
Remus’ lips twitch, eyebrows furrowing in a faint movement. Then, “Dove...” He says, his own voice barely a whisper and strained over the months he hasn’t spoken.
You shake your head, blinking furiously as the beginnings of reality come crashing down. Your wand lowers just a smidge, pausing mid-air as your brain manages to register the shape in front of you over the fog of your instinctual dissociation.
Sirius dares to take a step closer as well, moving despite himself, guided by his heart more than his own instincts. Your eyes snap to him, less widened as they, too, register his face for flaws that could uncover his true intentions–he has half the mind to put your mind at ease, to remind you once again they’d never cause you harm.
That you’ve returned home, however you managed to, but you’ve clawed your way to them.
“I… I didn’t mean to,” you repeat, with less conviction this time, eyes snapping to Remus where he meets your gaze with comfort and patience. Your hand drops between you, silence thickening by the second. “He… He was going to kill us both, I couldn’t–”
Moody mutters something under his breath. Kingsley only hushes him with a hand up, all eyes on Remus’ back where it’s eclipsing you.
“Who, dove? Who was going to kill you?” Remus asks softly, his own hands lowering as your breathing visibly calms down.
“I didn’t mean to,” you say again, eyes frantic as your mind refuses to let go of the memories, to let your guard down. But your body has other ideas, stilling as Remus shuffles ever so gently towards you. “I… I didn’t–”
“It’s alright,” he nods, swallowing thickly as his shaky hand comes closer to you. You hold your breath where he places it on your arm, warm hand touching the sticky substance over your skin where the sleeve is torn off. “You’re safe now, you… you’re home.”
Your chest heaves as you inhale sharply, eyes snapping up to meet his gaze. “…Home?”
Remus nods with hopefulness, and you mirror it mostly as a reflex. His hand, trembling, moves up and hovers over your face–not at all phased by the way you flinch inwardly in response. Then, very gently, he places it on the side of your face. Filthy with mud, blood, your body temperature borders on iciness.
James lowers himself by your side, eyes glassy as he studies your bloodied form with a tightness in his chest.
“Yeah,” he smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You blink again. “Home, you… you came back.”
A light flickers in your eyes, not quite calm. Not peace, just… recognition. Your lips part, head shaking mostly like a reflex of the fight still simmering under your skin.
Then, Remus moves again. Slowly, without hesitation as he gathers you into his arms. Blood be damned, flare up aches be damned. Because you’re home, in his arms again, and Sirius, caressing the nape of his neck with his ringed hand, is finally capable of offering comfort after months of nothing but rage. And James is there, crouched next to him, eyes glistening with tears as you slowly return to them not only physically–but emotionally as well.
…
The chimney has long past casted any warmth since they walked in, James holding your limp form in his arms before you put up a fight against his hold–seemingly slipping in and out of disorientation at their attempts at comforting you.
Sirius paces once again around the room, pinching the bridge of his nose as they wait for any indication that you’re done doing whatever you’re doing up in the room. You had requested space—and they granted it without a second thought, but even for them it was far too eerily silent to indicate any movement from your part. Almost like you’re not even there.
Remus is somewhere by the kitchen shakily preparing tea by the stove, passing a sleeve over his eyes to clean the tears that escape his attempts at holding them back. James isn’t so far better, sitting by the chimney with hazel eyes lost on the barely visible fire before him. The room is thick with silence.
Then, a loud thump noise, and before he can stop himself, Sirius sprints up the stairs, boots stomping on each step as he runs to you–if you’re there, or if your body has finally given out after the fight you crawled out of. Whatever it is, his heart jumps up his throat at the repetition of the same mantra, the same thought that you’re gone again, that you fled.
When he pushes the door open, his eyes immediately land on the bathroom door, left open ajar in a cruel parallel to the last night he saw you–when he cornered you demanding answers and pointing accusations he had no right in uttering. But now, he’s learned his lesson. He doesn’t wait to knock, only opens it cautiously, almost in fear of whatever he might find.
Steam fogs the mirror, it’s what he first notices as he steps in–the light is warm, but dimmed and flickering ever so slightly in the corner. You’re hunched over the edge of the tub, bloodied trousers and jumper discarded in a crumbled mess by the sink. As his grey eyes scan the scene, his heart skips a beat when they land upon the fabric clinging to your form, a blue graphic tee you had stolen from James years ago–a relic of another life.
You inhale sharply, knuckles holding the edge of the tub tightly as your eyes snap to him. “Sorry,” you mumble, swallowing thickly and eyes widened like you had been caught doing something wrong. “Sorry. It’s just, this… this wasn’t here… before.”
His eyes flicker to the tub, then back at you. The water running provides a calm, ever present sound to the silence surrounding you both in the bathroom, droplets of water running down your bloodied arm where it’s holding a sponge in your hand. Crimson red where you’ve tried to scrub your thighs.
Sirius’ lips part, torn between reminding you the tub has always been there–that you used to love it, and your time alone to take a bath in the midst of the chaos. But, at the faraway look that seems to come and go in your face, he only swallows any comment that would make you close off.
He clears his throat, “Uh, yeah, it’s… it’s relatively new,” he lies, taking a tentative step inside. He closes the door behind his back. “Are you alright?”
You nod, eyes flickering down at the sponge in your hand, and how it seems to do a futile job to scrub the blood away from your skin. Sirius only wets his lips–salty where his tears had finished their trail down his face moments prior–and extends a hand out, palm open in silent question as he holds your gaze.
“Do you need help?” He asks softly, pointing at the sponge in your hand.
He half expects you to flinch back, to reach for your wand where it’s by the floor next to the tub. But your eyes have that foggy quality again, like you’ve slipped into dissociation. He waits, heart thumping loudly as you take a deep, trembling breath before nodding your head very slowly.
Sirius nods in response, sitting on the floor, legs folded uncomfortably under him. And then, very gently, he rolls up his sleeves, like he’s preparing himself to touch something important, something sacred. Your eyes follow his movement, not emitting a word as the back of his cold fingers brush your skin on your abdomen, pinching the hem of your shirt in question.
“I’m just going to…” he looks down at the bloodied shirt, and you follow his gaze, lips parting like you’ve just realized the state you’re currently in.
“Yeah, um, sure.” you whisper, raising your arms as he very gently pulls it up and over your head. “Just–just don’t throw it out, please.”
A lump forms in his throat, and he nods wordlessly as he puts it down by his side on the floor. It pools in a little puddle of blood against the tiles.
You step into the tub with cautious movements, and Sirius only reaches for the washcloth under the sink, soaking its soft fabric in warm water before wringing it out.
And so, he begins.
His hand finds yours, guiding it away from your knees as he takes it in his, passing the washcloth over your skin with tender movements. There’s blood everywhere, between your fingers, under your nails, in the little cracks of skin in your knuckles, traveling all the way up to your forearm.
The source of it, he suspects–where he half expected a dark mark staring at him in mockery, he only finds burned off flesh and scars like someone had tried to strip you off the skin. Only remains of scars are barely visibly surrounding the poorly tended wound, and he tries to make his movements even more careful as he dabs at it very gently to clean it.
He moves up its trail to your arm, and your eyes follow each of his movements with such intensity he has to pause a few seconds to allow you some time to yourself, to remember you’re safe. Sirius wishes you’d had this fact well imprinted in your head, but he doesn’t mind reminding you–if pausing his careful cleaning to allow you peace of mind, he will give you all the time you need.
He looks back at your hand, now clean and bare where it rests over the edge of the tub. He tries to not dwell on its nakedness, at the lack of rings–the one you nicked from him back in fourth year, the amethyst one you’ve bought off a street vendor at Diagon Alley, the little, thin ones you’d occasionally use depending on your mood.
A fear creeps up his body, his veins, taking over his heart as it skips a beat in restraint before he casts a quick glance at your other hand over your knee. Still bloodied and waiting to be cleaned, but most importantly–most heartbreakingly, where it lacks your promise ring.
His hold on the washcloth loosens just a fraction, and it takes him a small movement from you as you press your knees closer to your chest to shake himself off his despair. Sirius only has a moment to collect himself before you could swat him away–or recoil as you come to your senses and find him so close to you.
Almost like you would’ve done years ago–when being fussed over was something still new to you. Something they had helped ease you into.
Sirius cuts a quick glance at you, lips twitching mostly at the memory than at what he finds–your faraway eyes staring a hole into the wall. His thumb brushes at your palm, a smooth motion that causes you to blink at the tiles before turning to meet his gaze.
He doesn’t ask where the ring is–if you threw it away, or if it was taken from you in a battle. He doesn’t ask why. He just holds your hand gently, like it’s made of glass, like you might dissolve if he lets go–and continues scrubbing. Quietly, lovingly, with aching care.
…
As soon as Sirius jumps down the last step of the stairs, James and Remus are on their feet. Equal widened and red-rimmed eyes staring at him with questions at the tip of their tongues.
He sighs, eyes glassy, sleeves rolled up, there’s a smudge of blood on his shirt by his stomach where it’s clinging to his skin from warm water. He doesn’t say anything at first, but there’s a wet, bloodied piece of fabric crumpled in his hands.
“She, um,” His voice is thin. He blinks as if to stop the tears from finally cascading down his cheeks. “She asked if we could wash it for her.”
There’s a funny tilt to his voice–faint and almost unrecognizable–he sounds like he could almost laugh in amusement, though it’s hollow when he looks down at the shirt. And it isn’t amusing, because your shirt, the battered and torn thing in his hands, still matters to you despite everything. That you carried a piece of home with you and even now, when you’re safely back, you’re pleading for him to take care of that piece that anchored you to them.
There’s a faint creak as the door opens upstairs. Then, tiptoeing the floodboards silently, you appear by the end of the stairs. They freeze. Your hand clasps your wand by your side as you climb down in careful, calculated steps, before meeting them by the sitting room. Wide eyes flickering between them in a manic albeit less alert manner like you’re calculating each of their movements as much as they are to yours.
Remus almost parts his lips to speak, probably knee deep in a memory as his eyes clock your bare feet against the freezing floor. The fabric of the clothes Sirius laid out for you swish softly with every tentative step you take.
Your fingers twitch around the wand, seemingly stuck in defense or attack at the sight of three boys in front of you. Sirius’ chest heaves when you take a tentative step back in reflex.
James clears his throat, “It’s alright–you… you’re safe. See?” He spreads his hands open, then points at Remus and Sirius, who mirror him unconsciously. “No wands.”
Your eyes scan each of them in silence, and your grip loosens just a smidge, imperceptible to the untrained eye–but they are completely attuned to you, despite the months away, they can notice your tells, your fidgeting. Doesn’t help that your heart is going a kilometer per hour, with no indication of slowing down any time soon.
“My… my clothes?” you turn to Sirius, who blinks back the tears when he meets your gaze. He looks down at his hands, at your crumpled shirt. “My necklace… it was in my jumper. I–I need it.”
“Your necklace?” Sirius echoes dumbly, eyes falling to your chest just barely visible over the hem of your oversized shirt. You nod. “I haven’t thrown them out, let me… I’ll check.”
You nod, bringing your hand to your forearm, nails scratching the tender flesh of your wound. James frowns when he notices the wince in your face when you touch it.
“Don’t… You’ll get it infected,” he manages, voice coarse like it had been scraped out.
At last, he snaps into action, so does Remus as each reaches for the healing potions they prepared for you while Sirius helped you get cleaned up. Your eyes follow their movements, and it seems to take you an enormous amount of courage to prompt your feet to move forward, tiptoeing your way to the couch in careful motion. James visibly swallows the lump in his throat at your evident distrust for them.
A scarred hand squeezes his wrist as he unpacks the bandages, and he’s eternally grateful when he looks up to find kind, amber red-rimmed eyes staring at him with softness. He clears his throat, and continues with his task as Remus moves and lets go to fully turn to you, washcloth at the ready wet with his healing potion of choice.
You’re nearly pushed deep between the cushions, leg bouncing with apparent nervousness as your eyes scan each boy inquisitively–like your brain knows they’re safe, they’re yours, and yet your body keeps betraying you, rejecting any feeling of comfort they offer.
“It’ll sting a bit, okay?” Remus whispers, patient hand open until you offer your wounded arm. As your eyes flicker from his hand to him, he tries to make his voice extra soft. “Would you like some calming draught?”
“No.” You shake your head quickly, placing your arm over his hand in response. He startles at your immediate compliance. “No calming draughts.”
“Okay, that’s fine.” he nods, dabbing the washcloth on your arm very gently. You still wince.
Remus continues dutifully dabbing at your wound, amber eyes patient and gentle hand stopping when a specific movement snaps you back into survival mode, yanking your arm away from him. It’s okay, he says every time–he’s well aware of the intimacy of getting healed up. He wishes you could remember how you’d done the same to him countless times after violent full moons.
Sirius emerges from the back of the kitchen a moment later, torn jumper in his hands and a face like he can’t quite understand where you could possibly leave your necklace–by his pinkish fingers, it’s obvious he tried to save you the hassle of searching for it yourself. But to no avail, there’s no glistening or indication that said necklace got tangled up with the fabric. He doesn’t really have the heart to tell you it’s probably lost, maybe during your escape.
Instead, he walks up to you, stopping to give you your wished space. “I… I couldn’t find the necklace, I’m sorry.” Love, he almost says. But bites his tongue, his heart cracks.
Despite everything, you don’t seem devastated by this fact. Free arm reaching for the jumper when he hands it over to you. Both James and Remus pause on their healing when you place it over your knees, smudging your skin with the mud and blood clinging to the fabric. You’re not deterred though, eyes intense and nimble fingers working over the threads until the jumper is torn into pieces. There, in a hidden pouch none of them can comprehend you managed to knit, you take out a large, thin chain with a ring hanging at the end.
Your promise ring.
The air is sucked out of the room–and their chests, as you push the fabric away to put the necklace over your head. It’s so long it nearly reaches your sternum, shining under the dimmed lights of the sitting room.
James exhales sharply, “You… you kept it? All this time?”
You nod, chewing at your lower lip. He swallows thickly, fingers fidgeting with the bandages in his lap.
Remus only wets his lips, blinking in surprise when you wordlessly stretch your arm back at him to resume his healing. He lowers the washcloth again, and tries to not think about his own promise ring glistening against the damp fabric.
“It’s charmed–they… they would’ve taken it away if they found it.” you reply quietly, almost in fear. None of them dare to question who’s they. “It was easier to keep it in a necklace.”
Sirius swallows the lump in his throat, blinking as he looks down at his own hands. The silence stretches on as Remus continues patiently cleaning your arm, multitasking as his warm eyes scan you for any other wound that may need tending to.
When he blindly opens a hand to James, asking for the bandage, James only clears his throat. “Is it okay if it…?” He points at your arm, and Remus looks up to meet his gaze with surprise. He nods, but tilts his head at you where you remain silent looking at the now dead chimney in front of you.
He calls your name softly, and you snap your head to meet their gazes, blinking as if to clear the fog from your mind. James only shuffles closer where he’s sitting over the coffee table, movements slow and tentative as he fidgets with the bandages.
“Is it okay if I…?” He points at your arm, now fully tended and skin slowly healing around your wound.
You swallow, eyeing him more curiously than apprehensively, arm now clutched to your chest. Remus tuts, very slowly detaching it where the sticky potion on your skin clung to your shirt. James winces, and you watch in silence as he dabs the washcloth again. None of them make a comment, they begin healing your arm again.
When Remus deems it fixed, they blink in surprise when you turn to James expectantly. His hands are still holding onto the bandages like a lifeline, and all it takes is a gentle nudge from Remus and Sirius clearing his throat for him to snap out of his shock. He shuffles closer to place the first bandage over your forearm, his hazel eyes landing on the remains of ink around the wound–like whoever caused it had tried to burn off a tattoo… a mark.
You draw back into yourself in shame, eyes scanning his face for a reaction when his hand stops. James clears his throat, making a point of sending you his most comforting smile–the one you had said you secretly loved years ago–before resuming his work around your forearm. No questions asked.
However, your shame has other intentions.
“They… they burned it off when they realized I was a spy.” you mumble, looking away from them. You withdraw your arm from James’ hold, clutching it back to your chest. “Healing charms aren’t really my strength.”
They all share a look, all seemingly shocked. No one could do a healing charm better than you. Before.
“Reg… Regulus tried to tend to it but we didn’t have much time.” you cut a quick glance at Sirius, who stiffens visibly at the mention of his brother. You wet your lips nervously, fingers twitching around your forearm as an unconscious tick. “We… we had to run, we had to destroy the locket.”
Sirius frowns. “What locket?”
You flinch very faintly at his interruption, and he has half the mind to mutter an apology when his boyfriends throw warning looks at him. However, you only swallow thickly, eyes flickering between each boy.
“The… the last horcrux.” you say, each word tilting in a tentative way as you look at him, as if gauging his reaction. “When we got to the cave…. he–he said he’d destroy it, that he would replace it with a fake one.”
As you speak, your hold around your wand tightens, knuckles turning white as if the mere memory is pulling you away from reality–like you’re back at that cave fighting for your life. A silver lining of tears appears in the corners of your eyes, shining despite your futile attempt at blinking them away.
You swallow, “It was a trap–he… he was there, they were there–ready for us. Riddle.” you whisper, though your breathing takes momentum with each word. You don’t flinch when James’ thumb brushes the skin just shy of your bandage. “K–Kreacher tried to hold them off, but… but they were stronger. We were outnumbered.”
Remus’ eyebrows pinch slightly, as if he can’t decide if he’s sympathetic or plain angry for you, for everything you had to endure. He schools his face as the first signs of movement pass from his peripheral vision, Sirius moving to sit by your side in intense silence–his own eyes hardening with every word you mutter.
“I didn’t mean to,” you repeat, the same mantra you’ve whispered like a plea since you crashed back into their lives. “I… I only wanted us to survive, I didn’t mean to–”
Your hand trembles, knee resuming its bouncing under James’ touch. His own promise ring glistens with each movement, though its love charm does nothing to slow the upcoming anxiety that’s pumping in your veins.
Remus lowers his head, searching for your eyes. “You didn’t mean to what, dove?”
You swallow, frantic eyes flickering from his soft eyes to James then Sirius, each boy pouring everything they can to hold back their tears at your evident distress.
“I… I didn’t mean to kill them all. It was.. I didn’t… I didn’t know what else to do,” you say quickly, almost in one single breath like the words are pushing to be said at once. Like you’re desperate for them to hear your side of the story, to grant you at least the grace to explain. “I didn’t know it would happen that way–the curse… the curse Regulus taught me, he said only to use it in case it was necessary. I didn’t–I didn’t think it would end that way.”
They lean back, but James’ fingers gently press over your knee, moving up until his hand is holding yours with one tentative move. His sad, teary eyes scan your face and the way it twists in pain as you retell the hell you endured to get to them–he suspects it’s only the tip of something worse, something more sinister none of them will ever be able to understand. The horrors you clawed your way through to ensure Riddle would fall.
“What curse, my love?” he whispers, pointedly searching for your gaze. You look away, throat closing up as your breathing comes in quick puffs of air. “Hey, it’s alright–you’re alright. You don’t have to say more, not if you don’t want to.”
“It… uh,” you press your lips together, looking down at your shaking hands in fear. Your hand drops the wand like it burns your skin. “It was called sectumsempra… Snape taught it to him, said it was a dark curse he created to, uh, to create imminent death and suffering–that’s what he said. I wouldn’t–”
They nod. “I know.” James smiles softly, mostly for your sake.
The thing is, months ago, they knew you wouldn’t, that you’d never inflict harm to someone else–not even if they deserved it. But now?
You look down at your hands, which moments prior were stained with someone else’s blood–hell, even Riddle’s blood if they really think about it, if they connect the dots.
Sirius shuffles next to you, energy coursing through his body and nowhere to channel it–his anger, his frustration, his grief… Now that he knows your true purpose in the war, where will all those feelings go? Is he even allowed to feel them at all?
“Regulus… he… he didn’t–” you whisper, not daring to search for his eyes. James’ thumb brushes the back of your hand. “I’m sorry.”
“I know,” Sirius nods, the movement prompting the tears hanging by a thread on his eyelids to finally cascade down his cheeks. A sniffle, and his fingers twitch to hold your face in his hands–to show you he would never blame you. “I know, love. It’s okay.”
You pull your legs up, hugging them close to your chest in response, desperately trying to make yourself smaller between the cushions–if it’s physically possible.
Remus’ lips twitch as he scans your heavy eyelids and the way you slump back into yourself against the couch. Exhaustion making its way into your body before you can even let yourself accept it–but so does your shame, coursing through you like it’s the only emotion you’re allowing yourself to feel.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper again, voice wavering like the weight of your guilt is shredding its way up your throat. You swallow nervously. “I didn’t mean to leave, I… I didn’t want to.”
Three things happen at once at your words. Sirius looks away in shame–unable to control his tears as he passes a trembling hand over his face. Remus, who had been characteristically quiet during your confession, stands from his sitting position, thumbs pressing hard at his eyes with such harshness the tears roll down his cheeks anyway. And James? He finally breaks–after months of denial, he finally lets his heart accept the grief and heartbreak his mind denied every single day since your departure.
Your hand flies to the necklace against your sternum, fidgeting with it almost unconsciously as your eyes flicker from each boy with something akin to guilt–the only feeling strong enough to overpower your shame.
“I wanted to tell you. I–I promise, many times I almost did.” you continue, swallowing sobs that are fighting their way up your throat. “I’m sorry.”
Then, another thing happens. You break.
“I’m really sorry, I… I didn’t think I’d ever come back,” you take a breath, your other hand joining the one gripping the necklace on your palm. Both hands desperately hold it like a lifeline, like it could simmer your pain and theirs altogether. “I thought–I just thought it’d be better if–if I just left. I didn’t want to… to be another fatality… another tragedy to mourn.”
You wet your lips, now salty with tears. And when you open your mouth to speak, to continue, a sob comes out instead. High and strained like it had been kept captive in your throat for months, and, apparently, it’s all it takes to activate your survival instinct once again–you clasp a hand against your mouth. You close your eyes and breathe slowly as if to calm yourself down, to make your pain smaller in order to stay alive.
You press your face against your thighs, swallowing thickly as you control your breathing, slowing it down to quiet and shorts exhales of air. Voice very low as you whisper calming mantras to yourself. All it does is break their hearts further as they watch in agony as you regulate yourself like someone that has endured indescribable horrors.
A hand, very tentatively, finds your shoulder, moving in gentle strokes as you slowly come down your spiraling. You drop your hands from your chest, the necklace returning to its resting place as you look up to meet Sirius’ equally teary eyes–his eyelashes wet with unshed tears as his hand travels up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing at the dampness of your face.
“You don’t have to be sorry… or explain.” he whispers very softly, making a point of searching for your eyes when you look down. “Just–don’t ever think you’d be better off gone. I–We would’ve never thought of you as a fatality…”
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, mostly as a reflex.
He nods, thumb intercepting the tear cascading down your cheek. “I know, love… I know.”
“You… you battled worse than us, and faced horrors we’d never understand. Alone. And you came back… you came back despite everything.” Remus steps in, hands wringing together in evident distraction, but his amber eyes remain fixed on yours. “That’s more than enough, dove. You’re here… alive. And that is what matters to us right now.”
“I… I,” your lower lip trembles, and you shut your mouth to stop any other sound from coming out. They all share a look. “I’m sorry.”
They all nod, almost in unison. And you mirror it unconsciously, mostly like you’re convincing yourself more than them. Sirius hands drop from where they cradled your face, and your head rests over the back of the couch, eyelids dropping as if your body is finally allowing itself to give in to your exhaustion.
James calls your name softly, clearing his throat as he passes a quick hand over his eyes. He sends you his most comforting smile when you pick up your head to meet his gaze.
“Ready to get some rest?” his smile widens when you nod, looking more sure in yourself with your decision. Remus’ lips twitch as well, though he tuts softly when you shift on the couch to lay down to sleep. “Oh–no, we prepared you a room. If that’s okay.”
You pause, looking up to meet his gaze in surprise. “You did?”
“Yeah,” Sirius breathes out, voice tilting, once again, in suppressed amusement at your reaction. Remus sends him a look. “Of course. We thought it’d be better than this ratty thing.”
“Now, Sirius, no need to insult my couch.” James jokes half-heartedly, it doesn’t really land–especially when you’re looking around the cottage with wide eyes. He stands slowly, hand open for you. “Come, lovie, let’s get you to your room.”
You send both Sirius and Remus a quick look, as if assessing their stances before taking James’ hand, who doesn’t let go even as you climb up the stairs by his side. They watch in silence as he ever so gently guides you through your own home, like you’re a ghost visiting after a long night. Their hearts twist lovingly when James’ arm comes around your back, supporting your weight when you trip over the carpet.
“Oh, careful there,” he smiles, his own heart skipping a bit when your hand reaches for his forearm as a reflex. “I’ve been meaning to fix that–I just know Moony will be scolding me later.”
Your lips twitch, head tilting to look behind your shoulder where Sirius and Remus are observing from the bottom of the stairs with twin glassy eyes. Their hands clasped together and promise rings offering comfort to one another.
James smiles at you, and guides you deep into the hallway, arm spread open at the door just across their room–your shared old room, mind you. He swallows the quip, smile dimming when you step into the guest room with tentative steps.
“I… I forgot this room existed,” you mumble, looking around as you sit down over the bed. James studies your movements, heart cracking at how out of place you look. “It’s nice.”
“Yeah, we never use this room much,” he fixes his glasses, looking away as you turn to get into the covers. The bedding looks insanely colorful in contrast with your dulled skin. “or, well, unless one of us forgets to empty the bin. Then it’s got plenty of use.”
Your lips quirk ever so faintly, looking down as your hand moves around the covers, testing its softness against your skin. James swallows nervously, shifting his weight with awkwardness–he used to have tons of things to say to you, now he finds himself scared of even cracking a joke. He wonders if whatever he comes up with would even make you laugh.
“Well,” he clears his throat. “I’ll just… uh, we’ll be across the hall.”
You nod, and he steps backwards, sending you one last smile. “Thank you, Jamie.” you say quietly, and he almost trips over his own feet as he makes his way out. “Oh, um, please don’t… don’t close the door.”
His hand hovers just over the knob at your request, pausing mid-air where he had reached to close the door. “Of course, yeah. That’s okay.”
“Thank you.”
“Goodnight, lovie.”
“You, too.”
James only walks out, leaving the door open behind him as he climbs down the stairs, his straight and relaxed posture crumbles with each step closer to his boyfriends–who readily embrace him as he finally breaks down. His quiet sobs mix with their sniffles as they all come down the high of seeing you again–at the cost of your sanity.
“It’s okay, love–she’s alright.” Remus whispers, his scarred hands thumbing at the tears cascading down James’ cheeks. His own red-rimmed eyes sting with tears. “She’s alright, she’s here.”
The bespectacled boy nods, sniffling quietly. The ringed hand at his back, moving in comforting circles and warming his skin with aching care–Sirius continues his dutiful work to comfort him until James’ back stops shaking, his sniffles subduing to short exhales. The sitting room falls into a silence as they collect pieces of each other, love poured into each whisper and comforting word.
Remus steps back, managing to force a half-smile on his face. “Let’s call it a night, yeah?” He tilts his chin promptly at the stairs. “We’ll face tomorrow. Together.”
“All of us.” Sirius adds quietly, pressing a quick kiss over James’ cheekbone. Not at all minding the dampness he finds.
But first they all bask in each other’s hold–something they hadn’t done since you left. Since they thought they weren’t worthy of love or compassion without you to share it with as well.
“Come on,” Remus half-smiles, guiding James up the room like he had done to you. He sends Sirius a quick look as they climb up the stairs.
Sirius follows wordlessly after a while, watching with several healed cracks in his heart as his boyfriends share comforting whispers to one another as they walk to their room–pausing just enough to send you a quick look from the hallway into the guest room.
He sighs deeply, turning off the lights of the sitting room before climbing up each step of the stairs, passing the wall of photographs he usually wouldn’t have the courage to even glance at. Mementos of your shared life before the war–before you were taken from them because of your selfless and courageous nature.
He brushes a hair behind his ear, trying not to think about the way you used to do it time ago–and pauses just by the threshold of the guest room, leaning sideways to allow himself a selfish moment to bask in your peace.
His eyes fill with tears once again at the sight of you, finally home, sleeping peacefully after months and months of indescribable horrors. Sirius’ hand reaches for his own promise ring, not looking away from your curled up form. Your own hand is clasping your ring unconsciously, love charm warms your skin and tethers you to them even in your sleep.
The adrenaline, despite everything, is still simmering slightly through his veins–but so does another thing. Forgiveness.
At you. For, even if he still doesn’t fully understand your reasons, leaving to fight a war not only against the tyranny of blood supremacy, but against every single person that ever put your right of existence into question.
At James, for denying himself the power of feeling your absence and protecting himself and his boyfriends with the optimism of hoping you’d return.
At Remus, who spent every waking moment imploding inwardly and keeping his pain to himself instead of overbearing him or James with it, who punished himself with silence in hopes you’d return one day to hear his voice again.
And at himself, for the rage and frustration he put out into the world and his boyfriends at the cause of your disappearance. For thinking, for one moment of pure idiocy, that you’d ever willingly leave them without putting up a fight first.
Sirius passes a hand over his face, ignoring the dampness against his skin as he turns to walk into the room, where Remus and James are already getting ready for bed. He sends your sleeping form one last look behind his shoulder, and lets his heart settle for peace at last.
Oooh with that new arranged marriage as you just posted, what if someone says something really disparaging to reader about being an outsider in her own kingdom and then in her own marriage, and reader suddenly starts reading james’a interactions with Remus and Sirius differently and she feels really bad, buttt in the meantime the marauders have grown fond of her so they’re not too happy when she starts pulling away?
Thank you for your request dusts <3
cw: muggle au, arranged marriage, hurt with no comfort (yet)
poly!marauders x princess!reader ♡ 1.8k words
James makes you smile. It makes sense that he would—he’s sweet, funny, handsome enough to frighten butterflies into flight in your stomach—but it almost alarms you how true it is. Half the time you’re with him you’re giggling like a schoolgirl at every other word from his mouth. Being asked to leave the castle grounds so that the media can get photos of James showing you about your new kingdom should feel like a chore. Your smile should feel phony, the act of holding your fiancee’s hand forced and awkward, but after an afternoon of touring all of James’ favorite haunts your cheeks ache with genuine happiness.
“Of all the people who should be getting free drinks.” James shakes his head, taking another sip of his apple cider. He hasn’t let go of your hand even though you’re back inside the castle, and despite the forecast you’d noted before leaving this morning you haven’t felt the chill so long as he’s been touching you.
“I know.” You sigh, blowing some steam off your own drink. “I feel kind of bad for taking this.”
“Wha—hey, I wasn’t talking about you. You’re different.”
You grin up at him. (See? It’s impossible to stop.) “How am I different?”
“Well, you’re a girl.”
“Mhm, and?”
“Pretty girls always get free stuff.” You come to a stop in front of James’ room, his shrug casual as your hands swing between you. “They wouldn’t have to know who you were.”
A warmth spreads from your chest, washing over your face and down your arms. You wonder if James can feel it tingling in your fingertips. “I’ll see you later?” you ask softly.
James smiles. “Yeah, I’ve just got a couple of things to handle first. I’ll come find you, yeah? For dinner?”
“Sounds great.” Your answering smile is irrepressible. He gives your hand a squeeze before letting go, slipping into his room.
It’s difficult, not to collapse against the closed door with a sigh like a lovesick girl in a film. You’ve no doubt that to anyone watching you give the general impression anyway, huge smile still stuck to your face and hearts in your eyes.
You hear Sirius’ voice from inside James’ room. You’re sure Remus is in there as well, his presence only less audible than Sirius’. You suspect they’re James’ couple of things to handle. You don’t mind; James likes to have at least some time alone with his friends each day, and you wouldn’t begrudge him it. It’s sweet. Honestly, it only endears you to James more that he has such close friends, friends which go all the way back to childhood and whom he clearly loves fiercely. You’re glad you’re getting to know them as well—not only because Remus and Sirius are nice to be around, but you don’t imagine it can be a bad thing to get along with your partner’s friends. Sirius seemed to have some trouble getting used to you, but you think you might be finally moving past that; if you’re lucky, you could all be quite happy once you and James are married.
You meander the halls a bit on your way back to your room, still buzzing with a restless, giddy energy, a throat-squeezing feeling of possibility. It’s as you pass the open doorway of an office that you hear your name.
“...see how he was holding her hand? It’s cruel.”
You stop on the other side of the door. You don’t grow up in a palace without developing a healthy proclivity for eavesdropping; if people in Gryffindor are talking about you, you want to know what they’re saying.
“They’re engaged.” That’s Lily’s voice, matter-of-fact. “Holding hands is part of the deal.”
“It is when it’s for the cameras.” You recognize Mary’s cadence now, too.
“You know James. He’s touchy with everyone.”
“Exactly, but she doesn’t know that,” Mary argues. She sounds the tiniest bit upset. “James can—I know he’s only being friendly, he doesn’t mean to, but he can flirt without having any idea he’s doing it. She’s going to get the wrong idea.”
Your stomach quiets. You can’t tell if the butterflies you’ve been feeling all afternoon have frozen in place or fallen dead.
“I know.” Lily’s voice is a murmur. “I know, but what do you want him to do? I’m sure he wants to tell her everything, but Remus and Sirius will know better than to trust her yet. She’s only been here a couple of weeks. If they tell her and she calls off the wedding, how would that look for Gryffindor? Or if she tells anyone else?”
Mary sighs.
“He’s the prince,” Lily says gently. “He has to consider the whole kingdom, and we can’t afford for this to get out. Not everyone is ready for…for…”
“For their king to be in a gay polycule?”
You choke on air.
“It’s not like it would be the first time,” Mary offers.
“Allegedly,” Lily says, though there’s a hint of a smile in her tone.
Mary scoffs. “Right, allegedly.”
There’s a long pause. You hear the scrape of wood against the floor and imagine Lily scooting her chair closer to Mary, playing with the ends of the other girl’s hair.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “It does feel…well, it’s not ideal. Maybe I can talk to James about being a little less…James.”
Mary’s voice lowers. “I just feel bad for her. She left her home, her family didn’t even seem to hesitate about sending her away—forever—and now she’s an outsider in her own marriage.”
The barb of their pity stabs through you. Lily murmurs something in response, but you don’t stick around to hear it. You’re done being gossiped about for the day.
You’re moving so quickly, you walk past the hallway to your room twice before finding it. There’s something warm and sour curdling in your gut, and you’re—you don’t know what you are. Hurt, indignant, nauseous. You feel like an idiot.
It all seems so transparent now. Horrifyingly, glaringly obvious. Remus’ hand on James’ knee when his bouncing was shaking the table. The private look on Sirius’ face when James fished a leaf out of his hair. How comfortable they all are with each other, touching and joking and speaking in a language you hoped—foolishly—you might one day crack. But it’s not meant to be shared with you.
You’ve thought, once or twice, that James hasn’t seemed as nervous as you are when you spend time together. Not since that first day. You told yourself it was part of his personality—he’s a confident man, not the sort to trip over his own feet when he likes someone, you shouldn’t read into it—but now, of course, this makes sense. None of this is real to him. The performance is as much for you as it is for the cameras, meant to keep you happy and incurious.
You would never have gone along with it if you’d known. It’s no wonder Sirius hasn’t been friendly to you; you’re encroaching on his relationship. On all of theirs. You’ve flirted with James in front of all of Remus and Sirius, planned dates, talked about your wedding. You wouldn’t have—god, you’re not trying to stand in the way of what they have. Even when you thought they were only friends, their love for each other was so obvious they couldn’t hope to mask it. You would never want to get in the way of that. You don’t want to do this to them.
But just as the acidic tang of guilt rises in your throat, another force shoves against it. You aren’t doing this to them. Every part you’ve played in this has been against your will. If you’d gone into this arrangement with your eyes open, you could have done things completely differently. Only you hadn’t been given that choice.
You don’t think James hates you. Remus might not, either. But whatever progress you’ve made with each of them seems pointless now. The impression you had upon first entering Gryffindor has never felt more true. No one wants you here. They never did.
You’re every bit the girl in a film now, laying on your bed letting tears slip down to wet the pillow. You register the cliche and do nothing about it.
You don’t know what to do. You can’t go home. Riddle is at Peleria’s doorstep. Even if you could get the King and Queen to commit Gryffindor’s armies without going through with the marriage, Lily is right; it would look bad for both of you to call it off now. You have to marry James. It’s all that’s been asked of you. It’s all you can offer your family, your kingdom. You can’t go home.
Gryffindor was supposed to be your new home.
A soft knock on your door summons you from the smog of your self-pity. You sniffle, scrubbing mostly dried tears from under your eyes and checking your reflection in the mirror before saying, “Yes?”
Remus pokes his head in. The sight of him makes your chest hurt—the slight uptilt to his mouth, the kindness of it. You wonder if this whole time, he’s only been kind to you out of sympathy. “Sirius is jealous that you and James got to spend all day in town,” he says. “He wants to go out for dinner. Are you ready?”
“Um.” Your voice comes out rough, and you clear your throat. “I’m a bit tired, actually. You guys go ahead.”
Remus’ almost-smile fades. “If you’re tired, we can eat here.”
“That’s okay.”
“Sirius doesn’t always have to get his way,” he says wryly. “It’ll be good for him.”
“I think I’m just going to…” You give your pillow a lame pat. “...go to bed.”
You don’t look out the window, at the sun hardly beginning to set; neither does Remus. His brows furrow, and you fuss with your comforter so as not to meet his eyes. Too clever, too discerning.
“Are you alright?” he asks.
“Hm?”
“You sound a bit hoarse.”
“Oh.” You press your lips into a smile. “I think it’s just the weather.”
He makes a soft hum. “I’ll have someone bring you a tea. We’ll see you tomorrow, then?”
“Yeah,” you murmur, lying back down. “Thanks.”
The door clicks shut behind him. A wave of feeling washes over you—silly, feeling abandoned when you’ve asked to be left behind. A couple more tears squeeze from your eyes nonetheless. They trace meandering paths down your face, the wetness cooling in their wake.
You wonder if this is how your life will be. Going out in front of cameras with James, smiling, holding hands, then delivering him to his true partners so you can return to your room. Alone. This arrangement isn’t what you thought it was, but you can play the part. For Gryffindor and for Peleria, for James and Sirius and Remus, you can.
You hope they’re enjoying their night without you.
I was wondering if I could request an obvious!reader x marauders? I read this headcanon for marvel once and I’ve always found it so funny. where marauders are dating reader like fully going on dates and cuddling and EVERYTHING but when asked about it reader is like we’re really good friends. And the the mar are like????? We go on DATES she’s like “yeah??? I also go on dates with Marlene am I dating her too?” Like all innocent and confused
hey! i feel like i was toeing the line between oblivious/innocent and juvenile, so i hope i did the the request justice without infantilizing reader!
poly!marauders x oblivious!reader who didn't know they were dating [1.4k words]
CW: fem!reader, Sirius' POV [so an unreliable narrator], friend group chaos, Marlene loving to stir the pot, established relationship except she doesn't know, fluff
Sirius made a rather concerted effort to snap his jaw shut as he stared at you dumbfoundedly, wondering how in the world they managed to botch this so thoroughly.
His gaze flickered towards James whose mouth was fully agape, eyes wide and locked on you with a bewildered expression on his face. Remus, at least, returned Sirius’ startled glance with a what the fuck expression of his own.
How could one little throw away comment expose such a massive miscommunication?
Marlene stood up from the couch with a playfully aggrieved expression on her face as she joined the rest of the group in the kitchen.
“Lads, tell your girlfriend here she’s not allowed to play Mario Kart anymore,” she announced, gesturing with a flippant thumb towards Lily as she took over Marlene’s abandoned controller to challenge you for your crown as reigning Mario Kart champion.
Sirius let out a rather inelegant snort. “Come on, McKinnon. I didn’t take you for a sore loser.”
Marlene glowered at him. “Do you even know me at all, Black?”
“Relax, babe,” Dorcas called as she mixed her whining girlfriend a drink. “It’s just a game.”
That earned her various sounds of disagreement.
Marlene—not relaxed in the slightest—continued her needling. “Yeah, and your girl’s a cheat.”
Sirius, Remus, and James' response was simultaneous.
“Oi!”
“Hey, now.”
“McKinnon, I swear to God…”
“Marls, you’re not going to win this,” Dorcas offered with faux consolation, handing Marlene a drink with one hand and pulling her in with the other to place a placating kiss to her temple.
“Just like you can’t win at Mario Kart,” James taunted.
“You looking to take this outside, Potter?” Marlene volleyed, putting up her fists which saw the two of them dancing around each other shadow-box style with wild grins on their faces.
“Aaaand she remains undefeated,” Lily announced as she, too, joined the bodies in the kitchen.
At least she was a better loser than Marlene.
Speaking of the devil, Sirius winced as she screeched your name. “The boys say you’re not allowed to play anymore!”
“We did no such thing,” James hollered quickly.
“Marlene,” Remus sighed like the disappointed, tired old man he often claimed he was.
You appeared in the doorway with a controller in hand and a look of bemusement on your face. “What?”
Marlene turned back to Sirius. “Would you please tell your girlfriend she’s not allowed to play Mario Kart anymore?”
It was this moment when Sirius’ entire understanding of the world imploded.
“I don’t know how you speak to your girlfriend, Marls. But our girlfriend is allowed to do what she pleases.”
Sirius’ haughty response was punctuated by your breathy, disbelieving “Girlfriend?”
James lowered his fists from his defensive state to look at you, Remus’ neck cracked as he whipped his head in your direction, and Sirius’ mouth fell open.
“Erm, yeah, doll. Girlfriend.” Sirius recovered first, letting out a nervous chuckle as you directed your attention to him.
“Since when?”
Sirius’ hands went up in surrender as he turned to Remus and James in search of help.
“What do you mean since when, dove?” Remus questioned cautiously. “We’ve been dating for quite a while now.”
“Quite a while?!” Your voice began to take on a panicked, shrill sound that Sirius can’t profess to liking too much. “Wha- dating? When…when was our first date?”
“The butterfly conservatory,” James answered readily, a look of concentration on his face like he was being quizzed and planned on acing it.
A startled breath leaves you. “Wha- I…no!”
“Yes,” the three of them replied in unison.
“That wasn’t a date!”
Remus tilted his head at you like he was seeing you for the first time. “Sure it was.”
“I’ve been to the butterfly conservatory with Marlene! Was that a date?”
Marlene’s bemused smile turned wicked. A mischievous glint in her eyes had Sirius taking three quick steps in your direction before she could hit on his girlfriend.
Who, apparently, didn’t even know she was his girlfriend.
What a mess.
“Of course not,” James denied quickly, elbowing Marlene when she began with a salacious “well…”
“Since the butterfly conservatory?” you repeat, looking between the three guys to see their responses. “Holy shit… Holy shit! And no one told me?”
“Angel, I…we got you flowers?”
You managed a smile—albeit an sheepish one—in James’ direction. “I thought that was an apology present.”
Remus let out a disbelieving breath. “An apology for what!?”
“For always being the fourth wheel!”
“Oh my God,” James murmured, a look of horror on his face as he tugged at his roots.
Lily, as unhelpful as ever, chose then to pipe up. “You mean to tell me you never asked her to be your girlfriend?”
A beat of silence passed before Sirius’ waspish response. “No, red. Clearly, it never came up.”
“You guys are, like, really bad at this,” she chuckled as she headed towards the living room, quickly followed by Marlene (eager at a chance to finally win a round without you in the room) and Dorcas (who followed her girlfriend to ensure she behaved herself).
“Oh, dove. I’m so sorry,” Remus finally announced, standing from the barstool to gather you into a hug that you—rather than accepted (or even reciprocated)—more or less fell into. “I- have we really never had this conversation.”
“I…I don’t think so? I mean…not in so many words.”
“Didn’t I ask you to be my girl?” Sirius questioned, closing the distance to press a hand to your spine as James took one of your hands in his.
“Well, yes, but-”
“And I told you that you were my favourite,” James reminded you. “Even said it in front of these two.”
“I just thought you guys were saying I was your favourite, like, friend? Like saying I was your best friend.”
Sirius was glad to note that your shoulders didn’t seem to be so tense now that you were in Remus’ arms and having this conversation without an audience.
Remus made a noncommittal sound. “You’re certainly our best girl. Our favourite girl.”
“Which is largely because…” Sirius emphasized. “You’re our girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend,” you echoed with a whisper, staring unseeingly at Sirius’ chest as Remus gently swayed you back and forth.
James made a pathetic tsking sound, unable to fight the urge to swipe at the hairs near your temple.
“I-” you began, and James was already squaring up for you to say even one negative thing about yourself “-am so dum-”
“-absolutely not,” Sirius argued immediately.
“None of that now,” Remus agreed.
“Not dumb.” James nodded like he was making a grand declaration. “We’re dumb, clearly. I honestly thought we’d had, you know, the talk.”
“Like, the birds and the bees?” you asked, blinking doe-like at him and forcing the guys into silence. It was only the twitch of your mouth that alerted them to the fact that you were taking the piss.
“Minx,” Remus chuckled under his breath, digging his fingers into your side and making you squeal.
“Okay so, are we all on the same page now?” Sirius asked, holding his arms out as if bracing for impact.
“Yes,” you agreed quickly, turning a beautiful shade of bashful as Remus planted a kiss on your cheek and James leaned in to press one on the corner of your mouth.
“And, just for clarity’s sake, exactly what page is that?”
An impish twinkle in your eyes—which, if Sirius was being honest, was kind of sexy—had the three guys holding their breath.
“That your girlfriend is way better at Mario Kart than Dorcas’ girlfriend.”
Remus tried and failed to suppress the grin that took over his face whilst James took off towards the living room to play interference with his childhood friend who clearly overheard your taunt.
Sirius couldn’t help himself, he grabbed your cheeks and pressed a bruising kiss to your lips, pulling back only far enough to murmur against your lips. “Truer words, my girl.”
— summary: you and your boyfriends have a very different definition of what a "fun night" means, implied introvert/shy!reader
As much as you love all of your boyfriends equally (fact that you had to remind them two times a week, at least), you would say that sometimes, just sometimes, you felt like you could easily pick one out.
It's not personal, nor a constant feeling. You love Sirius and James as much as the next person, and you wouldn't trade them for the world. You're not sure though, if right now if asked, you wouldn't trade them for a moment of stillness.
It's not their fault, not really. They couldn't possibly know you were already home, that Remus picked you up because you were feeling poorly and that you made him swear not to tell them. You swore that you'd tell them yourself. You still would, if they hadn't arrived all but stumbling and shouting nonsense at your shared flat.
You think at least they didn't arrive when you were feeling truly horrible, your stomach aching from nervousness and your head hurting so much it felt like it was hit by a brick. Then, you think, you might've trade them for another brick to put you out of your misery.
"Moony, darling!" Sirius' voice rings through your ears, and you groan softly from your bedroom, door left slightly ajar. "We're—" He's abruptly cut by what you think was a hiccup. "Home!"
You sigh softly, but before you can push your legs out and get away from your perfectly comfortable bed to tend to your drunk boyfriends, your perfectly lovely, sober, boyfriend stops you. You set the teacup down on your nightstand, but he merely smiles.
"I've got this." He says, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. Without your phone — doctor's orders —, you are left to do your sudoku and crosswords. Remus is gentle enough to make an attempt to close the door, before James and Sirius beat him to it.
"Hi, my love..." James mumbles as he tries to climb into bed, pressing a loud and exaggeratedly wet kiss to your cheek. "We missed you."
"Hi, Jamie." You smile at the boy, combing your hair through his curls as he leans into your touch. He smells like his cologne and alcohol, plus some lingering note of smoke your nose barely picks at. You knew James wasn't a smoker, but he hanged around smokers a lot.
"Hi, mon chérie." Sirius says as he so gracefully barges in the room, his shadow hovering above you as he leans against the headboard of your bed. A couple of strands fall over his eyes, and he tries to blow them away.
"Fun night?" You raise your eyes to him, putting the pen down in between the pages.
"Funniest. Mary sends you a hug, by the way." He replies, and you chuckle at the nonsense answer. It's a close guess, at least. "How's yours, is Moony treating you alright?"
"It's fun, we've been reading but Rem put me in cellphone timeout." You fake complain, pointing to your phone on the opposite side table. Sirius makes an appalling noise in your behalf, and you smile.
"Oh my god, he's been torturing you!"
"I'm treating everyone very well, thank you very much, Pads." Remus walks back into the room a second after, with a large glass of water and a couple of aspirins. You don't know for which of you. "Open up."
He hands the cup to Sirius, popping a pill on the palm of his hand and doing the same to James' extended one, who's currently face planted into your duvet.
"You're a saint, Moony." James grumbles, squinting his eyes as he raises his head, an odd position you're sure it's bound to give him neck pain later. You tap his shoulder lightly and gestures him to turn the other way around, belly up.
"Uhm, you are." You agree.
"Don't encourage them, dove." He says, pouring more water from a bottle he mysteriously produces and handling it to James after Sirius swallows his aspirin down. "Jamie, love, you're not sleeping with us if you're filthy like this. Go take a shower. Same for you, Pads." He points out, his voice not more than a lovely suggestion, but Sirius groans nevertheless.
"I'm not filthy." You hear him protest as he straightens his back up again.
"You do smell like an ashtray, Siri." You say, seeing him pout.
"Okay, grandma, do your crosswords."
"I'm doing sudoku." You say, showing him the half done magazine in your hands, slightly crinkled now because of James, but you don't mind it.
Sirius dismisses your words with a wave of his hand. "Same thing. Come on, Prongs, they don't love us anymore! They've turned eighty in our absence and have to wear dentures now!"
You roll your eyes, feeling the bed shift under James' weight as he gets up and wraps himself into Sirius' side, walking begrudgingly to the ensuite bathroom.
As you watch the door close and hear the shower start, Remus returns to your side, pulling the covers back on his laps and picking his own booklet of crosswords.
"Oh, you are doing crosswords. He wasn't far off." You say, seeing him seek his sweatpants pockets for something. After a moment, he pulls out a secret third aspirin for you.
"Our teeth haven't fallen out yet."
"Don't jinx it." You shrug, taking it from his open palm and swallowing down with the rest of the water. "They looked like they had a fun night."
He makes a sweet noise of agreement, filling a row of squares out. "Not better than ours, they don't."
You rest your head on his shoulder, you have to agree. Not better than yours.
Summary - After a prank in earlier years goes horribly wrong, leaving someone humiliated, Y/N begins to distance themselves from the Marauders. The boys you once loved and trusted—the ones who used to make you laugh, who felt like home—now feel like strangers. Over the next two years, your friendship quietly dissolves, leaving teachers and classmates puzzled at the sudden coldness and avoidance.
Warning - angsty , friends to strangers, prank gone wrong, forced proximity, awkwardness, longing, yearning , eventual jealousy, replacement and deep ANGST
A/n - hello my loveliess this was based on the song 𝓟𝓮𝓸𝓹𝓵𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓫𝔂 𝓢𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓪 𝓖𝓸𝓶𝓮𝔃 so i was listening to it and I had this random idea! This is gonna be a 2 parter maybe more?? Idk if I wanna do a happy or bittersweet ending.
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The courtyard rang with laughter. Loud, echoing, sharp enough to sting.
James had Snape dangling in midair, robes over his head, pale legs flashing in the sunlight. Sirius’s bark of laughter carried across the stone, Remus sat with his lips curved into something halfway between amusement and tolerance, Peter was practically choking from how hard he was laughing.
And then Lily laughed.
It was quick, sharp, unexpected — like she’d been caught up in the moment. A flicker of schadenfreude before her expression faltered, before her fury reared up and she turned on James. But you’d seen it. You couldn’t unsee it. The sound of Lily Evans laughing at Severus Snape’s humiliation settled heavy in your chest.
Everyone else was doubled over, gasping, wheezing, clutching at one another’s shoulders like this was the height of comedy. You weren’t laughing. You couldn’t.
Because all you saw was Snape’s face — blotchy, pale, humiliated. His eyes weren’t wide with anger; they were wide with shame. And something in you recoiled.
You had warned them. That morning, when Sirius had gleefully told you about the plan, you’d felt your stomach turn. “Don’t,” you’d said, softer than you meant to. “This isn’t just a joke. It’ll go too far.”
Sirius had winked, brushing it off with that careless grin. James had waved you off, too caught up in his theatrics. Remus had looked at you like he almost agreed, but he didn’t say anything. He never did when it came to the boys.
And now here it was. Exactly what you feared.
“Put him down,” you said, your voice louder than you expected. The laughter quieted just a little, curious glances flicking your way.
James smirked, his wand still aimed at Snape. “What’s the matter, Y/N? He’s loving the attention.”
“Yeah,” Sirius added, “you’ve got to admit, it’s hilarious.”
“Hilarious?” you snapped, your chest tightening. You turned to look at Snape again, trembling in midair, fists clenched uselessly. “Does that look hilarious to you? He’s humiliated.”
“He’s Snivellus,” James corrected, as though that explained everything.
“He’s a person,” you shot back, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “A person you decided doesn’t deserve dignity. And you’re all laughing like this is fun. It’s not. It’s cruel.”
Silence spread. Sirius’s smirk faltered. Remus’s face tightened, eyes darting away. Peter looked between them like a child watching parents argue.
And James — James looked at you like you’d just betrayed him.
“Oh, come on, Y/N,” he said, voice softer now, coaxing. “Don’t tell me you’re siding with him.”
You shook your head, breath catching. “I’m not siding with him, I’m siding with what’s right. You — all of you — used to be better than this. Or maybe I was too blind to see you weren’t.”
That landed. You saw it in James’s eyes, in the way Sirius’s jaw clenched.
Lily spoke up then, her voice sharp as glass. “Enough, Potter. Put him down.” She sounded furious, but you couldn’t shake the memory of her laugh, the sound that had joined the others for one terrible moment.
And you realized you were done.
When James finally dropped Snape, leaving him to scramble away with his pride in tatters, you didn’t stay by the Marauders’ side. You crossed the courtyard and offered Snape your hand. He stared at you like he didn’t know what to do with it, suspicion and pride warring on his face. But he took it. Slowly.
Behind you, you could feel the weight of four gazes, burning holes into your back.
“You’re making a mistake,” Sirius called after you, his voice laced with something almost desperate.
You didn’t turn. “No,” you said, steady despite the lump in your throat. “I think I’m finally seeing clearly.”
And you walked with Snape. And later, with others — the ones who had been on the receiving end of the Marauders’ laughter, who had always seemed like background noise. You found yourself sitting with them, listening to them. Realizing you weren’t alone.
But the Marauders looked at you differently after that. As though you were a stranger.
And you felt it too.
Because people go from people you know to people you don’t.
It didn’t happen all at once. It never does.
At first, you thought the prank was just a fracture. A crack in something you thought was unbreakable. A fight, harsh words, then maybe apologies later. That’s how it always used to be.
But this time… there was no apology.
James threw himself back into chasing Lily, determined to win her over after the humiliation of her shouting at him in front of half the school. And slowly — painfully — she stopped glaring so much. She started laughing with them again, sitting a little closer, lingering a little longer.
It was your seat she filled. Your place at the table. Your spot on the couch in the common room, where you’d curl against Sirius’s side or steal Remus’s book just to annoy him. You’d pass by and see her there — smiling, vibrant, magnetic — and the boys drinking her in like sunlight.
And you… you were a shadow.
Ravenclaw Tower became your refuge. Books stacked high around you, parchment stained with ink, but you couldn’t drown out the silence. The silence where their laughter used to be. The silence of not being dragged into trouble, or pulled under an Invisibility Cloak, or teased until you were smiling despite yourself.
You started treating them like strangers because it hurt too much to treat them like home. Polite nods in corridors, clipped words when you had to share space, no warmth, no softness. It was easier this way — to pull back before they could push you out completely.
But the thing was… they noticed.
Sirius tried first, cornering you in the library one night. He had that reckless grin plastered on like armor, but his eyes were searching. “What’s with the cold shoulder, love? Too good for us now?”
You’d looked up from your essay, heart aching, and said evenly: “I just don’t know who you are anymore.”
The smile slipped. Just a fraction. He left without another word.
Remus was quieter, watching you from across classrooms, trying to catch your eye. When you wouldn’t, he looked down like it was his own fault. Maybe it was.
Peter stopped bothering. His laughter came easier now when you weren’t around to temper it.
And James… James was the worst of all. Because every time you saw him, Lily was there. Filling the spaces you’d left. And he looked at her the way he used to look at you — like the sun rose and set just for him.
And maybe that was the cruelest prank of all — not the one they played on Snape. But the one time played on you.
At first, no one took it seriously. The Marauders and you, distant? It was laughable. Students had seen you bicker before, sulk for a day or two, even storm off dramatically — but it never lasted. You always came back together, as inevitable as gravity. So when you started sitting at the Ravenclaw table instead of squeezing onto the end of the Gryffindor bench, people whispered that it was temporary. A sulk, a spat.
Even the teachers assumed it would pass. McGonagall once called out partners for Transfiguration and said, “Potter, Y/N,” with a faint smile, as though putting you together would fix whatever stubbornness lingered. You’d both worked in silence, parchment scraping against wood, wands raised without a single word shared. She’d watched you both with a crease in her brow, like she couldn’t quite understand it.
The common room was buzzing, the fire crackling. You were curled sideways in a chair, Sirius sprawled across the rug at your feet, flicking Bertie Bott’s beans into your mouth while James kept score. Remus sat on the armrest beside you, pretending to read, but his lips twitched every time you nudged him with your shoulder. Peter was dozing, quill slipping from his fingers. “Merlin,” James had said suddenly, grinning wide, “we’re going to be legends, you know that?” You’d laughed, tossing a bean at his head. “You’re insufferable, Potter.” Sirius had smirked. “Admit it. You love us.” And you had smiled — that soft, aching kind of smile that only comes when you’re exactly where you belong.
Weeks turned into months, and still you kept your distance. You passed them in the corridors without slowing your step, answered questions in class like they were just any other students. Polite, cool, detached. You refused to let yourself look back.
The whispers grew sharper. “They used to be inseparable,” younger students said as you walked by. “Do you think it was serious? A fight?” You heard your name on their lips more often in reference to what you used to be than who you were now.
Third year — snow was falling in thick, wet clumps on the road to Hogsmeade. Sirius and James ran ahead, kicking up clouds of white, Peter trailing after them with his scarf slipping loose. Remus slowed to walk beside you, brushing snow from your hair with careful fingers. “You’ll catch cold,” he teased. You’d rolled your eyes. “And you won’t?” He’d shrugged and tugged his own scarf from his neck, wrapping it snugly around yours. “I’ll be fine. You, I worry about.” From up ahead, Sirius’s voice cut through the air. “Oi! Stop flirting and hurry up!” Remus’s ears went scarlet, and you laughed so hard you nearly slipped on the ice.
By sixth year, the professors stopped pairing you with them altogether. The distance had calcified, thick and unyielding. Even the castle seemed to accept it — the Marauders and Lily Evans on one side, you on the other. A new shape to an old story. Students said it was odd, but no one questioned it anymore.
Late nights used to be yours. Four boys and you huddled under an Invisibility Cloak, hearts pounding as Filch’s lantern swung past. James whispering strategies for a midnight Quidditch match, Sirius snorting too loud until Remus smacked him, Peter giggling helplessly. You’d pressed your hand to your mouth to stifle your laugh, your shoulder brushing Sirius’s, your other hand steady against Remus’s arm. The thrill of being young and invincible had burned in your chest, brighter than any fire.
The announcement came at breakfast.
You were halfway through buttering toast when Flitwick tapped his goblet with a spoon, voice carrying just enough to silence the hum of Ravenclaw table.
“Prefect patrols will be slightly altered this term,” he said, his tone bright but deliberate. “Owing to… scheduling conflicts, a few of you will find yourselves with new partners. Do check the noticeboard before your next duty.”
The ripple of chatter started instantly, students leaning in, whispering. You didn’t think much of it — not until your name came up.
“Ravenclaw: y/l/n. Partnered with… Lupin.”
The knife slipped in your hand, smearing butter across your sleeve.
Across the Hall, at the Gryffindor table, Remus looked up from his book. His gaze flicked to you for the briefest second before snapping away, as though neither of you had heard what was just said. But the way Sirius nudged him, the smirk James half-failed to hide — it was obvious they had.
The whispers around you were worse.
Wait — weren’t they—?”
“Didn’t they used to be…?”
“I thought she swore she’d never—”
You shoved your plate aside and stood before the whispers could weave themselves into knives. You didn’t need reminding.
Once, that name paired with yours had meant something different. Laughter echoing off the stones, ink-stained notes swapped mid-patrol, the quiet safety of someone who saw you without needing words.
Now it was just strategy. Teacher meddling. A calculated, insulting move.
Later, when you confronted Flitwick after Charms, his eyes had twinkled in that maddening way that told you he thought he was being clever.
“Change is good for the soul, Miss y/l/n. Perhaps you and Mr. Lupin will find common ground again.”
Common ground. As though friendship were a misplaced quill you could simply pick up after years of pretending not to see it.
You walked out of the classroom without answering.
The corridors feel too quiet. You keep your eyes on the floor, shoulders stiff, wand in hand, moving deliberately. Every step echoes off the stone, precise, controlled.
Remus walks beside you, close enough to sense, far enough to not touch. He shifts, flexes his fingers, jaw tight. He doesn’t speak, not yet. You don’t look at him, don’t breathe his name.
“…Should we check the east stairwell first?” His voice is low, careful.
“Mm,” you murmur, eyes forward. No warmth, no inflection, nothing more.
A pause. He adjusts his robes, the faint scrape of fabric against stone sounding impossibly loud. “…Or the west corridor, maybe?”
“West works,” you reply flatly, slow, clipped. Each word is deliberate.
He shifts again. Fingers flex, unclench. He exhales softly, mutters something under his breath you don’t hear clearly. You keep your pace steady. Eyes forward. Shoulder stiff. Heart tight.
“…Window there?” he asks after another long pause.
“Check it,” you reply. Short. Neutral. Almost sharp in its brevity.
His jaw flexes. Fists twitch at his sides. He takes a careful step, then stops. Silence stretches. Heavy, suffocating, dragging. He doesn’t speak again. You don’t either.
Step. Step. Step.
“…Corner ahead,” he says finally, quiet, almost inaudible.
“Turn it,” you say, tone neutral, eyes fixed straight ahead.
Step. Step. Step.
He adjusts his robes again. Small, controlled sigh. Fists clench and unclench. His gaze flickers briefly toward you, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. You don’t notice. You don’t look.
Step. Step. Step.
By the end of the patrol, the silence is thick. Words exist only for the function of walking the halls, nothing else. He’s tense, jaw tight, fists trembling slightly. You’re rigid, heart tight, every word clipped, every breath careful.
Step. Step. Step.
Neither of you speaks beyond necessity. The tension doesn’t break. It stretches, heavy and unbearable, until the patrol ends.
The morning sun slants through the tall windows of the classroom, painting stripes of light across the polished desks. For once, you feel lighter than you have in weeks. No patrols today. No dragging steps through empty corridors, no echoing footsteps pressing against your nerves. Just a normal class. A normal morning. Maybe even a little peace.
You stretch, letting your shoulders loosen for the first time in ages. Your quill taps idly against your parchment as you glance around the classroom, faint smile teasing the corners of your lips. Today could be… nice.
“Ah, good morning, everyone!” Slughorn’s voice breaks through, bright and exaggerated, filling the room like a burst of sunlight. You almost relax completely—until he begins calling out the groupings.
“And Y/N,” he says, his eyes sparkling in that way that always makes your stomach twist, “you’ll be working with… Mr. Potter and Mr. Black. Excellent. A very lively combination, yes, yes.”
Your quill freezes mid-tap. Your chest tightens instantly. “Excuse me?” you say, sharper than you intended. Your voice rings out clear and precise across the row. “You’re pairing me with them?”
Slughorn beams like he’s delivered the best news in the world. “Indeed! I thought a dynamic trio would do wonders for your project. Mr. Potter, Mr. Black, do take good care of our Y/N.”
The warmth of the morning drains out of you like water from a leaky cup. The sunlight feels suddenly harsh. The polished wood of your desk feels too smooth, too bright. You press your lips together, forcing yourself not to scowl.
You glance at James. He’s grinning already, hair perfectly messy, eyes sparkling with that confident charm that usually makes people laugh. Sirius leans casually against his desk, smirk teasing the corners of his mouth. Both of them look exactly the same as they always do. Exactly the same. And you feel your mood splinter into sharp little shards.
James nudges his notebook toward you, grinning like nothing has changed. “So, first step—uh, do you want to handle the first bit, or should I?”
You don’t look up. You tap your quill against your parchment. “I’ll do it,” you say flatly, tone short and precise. No warmth. No hesitation.
Sirius leans over, smirking, trying the same old charm he usually wields effortlessly. “Relax, Y/N. It’s just a project. We’ll make it fun, like always.”
You blink at him once, slow, deliberate. “Fun isn’t my priority,” you reply. Cold. Controlled. He stiffens slightly but doesn’t push further.
James laughs nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “Right, okay… well, uh, I guess we just—”
“Step one,” you interrupt, tapping your quill on the page. “Read the instructions. Then we move.”
Sirius glances at James, his smirk faltering. He mutters something under his breath, low enough that you can’t hear, but the tension radiating from him is clear. James notices it too, shoulders stiffening, grin fading.
They try again. Sirius nudges your notes lightly. “See? Nothing’s changed. We’re still the same team. You’re still—”
“Focused,” you cut him off, tone clipped. Eyes forward. Hands busy on the parchment. “Let’s stick to the project.”
Both boys freeze for a fraction of a second. James swallows. Sirius tilts his head, finally noticing the lack of softness in your voice, the deliberate distance in your posture, the way you refuse even the slightest glance.
“…Y/N....you hv changed..,” James says softly, almost.
You shrug lightly, not looking at him. “I’m the same. Just… focused.”
Sirius exhales, long and sharp, fingers flexing. James opens his mouth again but stops, jaw tightening. They exchange a glance.
“Right,” Sirius mutters finally, voice low. “Okay… we get it.”
James nods slowly, frowning, his usual easy confidence gone. “Yeah. We… we’re not going to pretend everything’s like before, are we?”
You keep your eyes on your work, shoulders stiff. “No,” you say quietly. No more.
The room falls into a heavy silence. Not uncomfortable in the usual playful way, but thick, taut, suffocating. The charm and teasing they usually wield are useless. You’ve made it clear: things have changed, and they finally understand.
Step by step, word by word, the energy between you three shifts. They’re cautious now, moving slower, speaking less, testing the waters of your new distance. You stay precise, clipped, unyielding. The tension coils tighter, quiet but undeniable, as the project continues.
Bat animagus!reader being super sensitive to light sometimes and the boys always being prepared with sunglasses or some place more shady to chill out at for the meantime? Sometimes even offering their jackets/sweaters to hide in for her animagus form 😭
You'd enjoyed a chilly morning at the seaside, but as soon as the sun's first rays dare to peek out from behind the sprawling cloud cover, your eyes burn.
Before you can even think about protesting, or shifting backwards into the shrinking shade, plastic lands on the bridge of your nose and the hood of your zip-up sweatshirt is tugged over your face in one fell swoop.
"Three seconds that time, boys." Remus drawls, "Getting sloppy."
"S'not my fault," Sirius scoffs, "The arm of the glasses wouldn't open."
"Excuses, excuses," Remus tuts, amusement dripping from the smirk his lips curl into as he stares back out at the gently lapping waves on the shore, "Another second there and Y/N might have gone completely blind."
"That wouldn't happen." You reassure Sirius, patting a hand onto his thigh while you scrunch your nose to shove the sunglasses further up over your eyes. After a brief moment, you realize that James is eyeing the hand you've slapped over Sirius's leg, and you put the opposite one on his thigh, rubbing in soothing motions to let him know you appreciate how fast he'd yanked your hood up.
"Y'know, Moony, I don't see you racing in to save the day," James points out, emboldened by your touch to his thigh, "What gives you the right to sit there and judge us?"
"I'm helping plenty." Remus eyes them, head still facing the waves.
"He's just sittin' there," Sirius snickers in your ear, "It's not like you can hide in his skinny little shadow."
"I meant this," Remus yanks the excess fabric of his sweater away from his stomach, offering the large expanse up for you to burrow beneath. You're more than happy to, and you settle with your head in Remus's lap, nose pushed against his stomach while the fabric of his sweater drapes over your face.
"That's not fair." James blinks bewilderedly, glancing down at his own true-to-size shirt, "I'd have brought a blanket if I'd known that was an option."
"It's fine James," You call from beneath Remus's sweater, waving a lazy hand in his general direction, "The hoodie thing- it's really nice!"
Remus braces a hand on the back of your head, muffling the rest of your words and pressing your face against his lap. You're content to nestle your cheeks against the heated expanse of his abdomen. Despite your reassurances, Sirius and James watch with tightening expressions as Remus shoves your head against his groin.
With a wolfish grin back towards the two other men, Remus settles into the sang again, planting both hands in and letting the sediment shift through his fingers. The view of the sun-dappled waves is gorgeous, but he's certain his friends have found something prettier to look at- and he glances down at it himself as you huff a long, warm breath against his abdomen.
"Thanks Remus," You call, and you feel the way he hums in acknowledgement against your face, his skin buzzing beneath your cheek.
At the same damn time! [ James Potter x Reader x Sirius Black]
rating: 18+. mdni.
content: oral (f), oral (m), p in v, anal, dom!sirius, switch!james, switch!reader, threesome, overstim, friends w benefits
note: oh wow this was filthy
The three of you had fallen into the same rhythm long ago: James lounging back on his bed with a lazy grin, Sirius sprawled sideways in the chair like he owned it, and you tucked cross-legged between them, trading stories and laughter. Their room always smelled faintly of smoke, leather, and boyish cologne—the kind of mix that clung to your skin when you stayed too long.
Sirius was mid-story, gesturing with a bottle in hand, sharp grin flashing.
“—And then he swore he could hex the lock open, but ended up blasting the entire bloody door off its hinges. You should’ve seen his face, Prongs.”
James threw his head back and laughed, hair falling into his eyes. “Bet he shat himself. Absolute twat.”
You laughed too, though your focus lingered on James a moment longer than it should have. His shirt had ridden up, exposing a lean stretch of stomach, and the easy way he sprawled back against the headboard made heat curl in your belly. You shifted slightly, hoping neither of them noticed.
Of course, Sirius noticed everything. His grey eyes cut to you, then back to James, and his grin only widened. “You’re staring, love.”
Your cheeks warmed instantly. “I am not.”
James leaned forward, eyes dancing with mischief. “Oh? Staring at me, were you?”
It was ridiculous how casual they could be about it, how they teased without shame. But the air had shifted—charged, heavy. Sirius leaned in, voice low and playful.
“Can’t blame you. He does look good, doesn’t he? Bet he tastes even better.”
James chuckled, shaking his head, though color had risen high on his cheeks. He looked at you, then at Sirius, then back again—testing, daring.
“Well then,” he said slowly, almost as if amused at himself for saying it, “maybe we should let her find out.”
The room went quiet except for the thrum of your heartbeat. Sirius raised a brow, reclining back like a king waiting to be entertained. “Go on, sweetheart. Show us how bad you want it.”
James smirked at you like he already knew your answer. His long fingers toyed absently with the hem of his shirt, waiting. You swallowed hard, then slid off the bed and onto your knees between his legs. The carpet scratched faintly under your skin, but the heat of the moment drowned it out.
James spread his thighs, lazy and inviting. “That’s it, love. Always so good for us.”
You glanced up at him, breath catching when his hand brushed over your hair—guiding, not forcing. Sirius shifted in the chair, smirking like this was the most entertaining thing he’d seen all week.
“Don’t be shy now,” Sirius drawled, swirling the bottle in his hand. “You’ve had your eyes on his cock all night. Might as well make yourself useful.”
Heat rushed through you, shame tangled deliciously with want. James unbuttoned his jeans with an easy flick, pushing them down just enough for his cock to spring free—thick, flushed, already half-hard from the teasing.
You licked your lips. James caught it, chuckling low in his chest. “Merlin, you’re eager. Go on, then.”
You leaned forward, taking him into your mouth, warm weight filling your tongue as you slid down slowly. James groaned, hand threading into your hair as he tipped his head back against the wall.
Sirius laughed under his breath, eyes glittering. “Look at you, Prongs. All red in the face already, and she’s barely started.”
James let out a shaky breath, trying and failing to sound casual. “Yeah, well—” His words broke off into a grunt as you sank deeper, hollowing your cheeks. “—She’s bloody good at it, isn’t she?”
You glanced up through your lashes, and the sight made James’ hips twitch. He tried to reply to something Sirius said, but every shift of your mouth, every swirl of your tongue, dragged another curse out of him.
“Not going to last long with that mouth,” Sirius teased, lounging back. “Bet she could make you beg in under five minutes.”
James’ laugh came ragged now, cut off by another groan as you sucked harder. His hand tightened in your hair, guiding your rhythm, and he looked down at you with glassy eyes. “Fuck, sweetheart… you hear him? He’s jealous.”
“Jealous?” Sirius grinned lazily. “Hardly. Just waiting my turn.”
Your lips stretched around him, the heavy heat of James’ cock filling your mouth as you slid down slowly. The taste of him coated your tongue—salty, warm, intoxicating. His thighs tensed under your hands, and when you swallowed around him, his head hit the wall with a dull thud.
“Fuck—” James hissed, chest heaving. His fingers tangled deeper in your hair, not pushing, just keeping you close. “You’re too good at this.”
You hummed around him, the vibration making him curse again. His cock twitched against your tongue, precome slicking your lips as you pulled back to lick a long stripe up his shaft before sinking down again.
From the chair, Sirius whistled low. “Listen to him—already falling apart. You’d think he’d never had his dick sucked before.”
James shot him a glare through heavy-lidded eyes. “Shut it, Pads.” His words faltered when you bobbed faster, cheeks hollowing, saliva slipping down your chin. “Bloody hell—she’s… Merlin—”
Sirius’ grin widened. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, watching the way your head moved in James’ lap like it was the only show that mattered. “Careful, love. Keep going like that and he’ll be spilling down your throat before I get a taste.”
Your cheeks burned hotter, but you didn’t stop—you wanted James trembling. You wanted Sirius watching. So you wrapped your hand around the base of James’ cock, stroking what your mouth couldn’t take, while your tongue traced circles under the head.
James bucked helplessly, a strangled laugh escaping him. “She’s trying to kill me, Pads—fuck—look at her.”
“I am looking.” Sirius’ voice had dropped lower now, darker. “Look at those pretty lips stretched around you. She’s perfect like this, isn’t she?”
James’ hand flexed in your hair, tugging just enough to make you whimper. His gaze dropped to your wet, swollen mouth working over him. “Yeah,” he groaned, “she’s perfect.”
Sirius shifted in his chair, and when you glanced sideways, you caught the unmistakable outline straining in his trousers. His grin was wolfish.
James gave a breathless laugh, thrusting shallowly into your mouth as his eyes flicked to Sirius. “Told you you’d get jealous.”
Sirius stood at last, lazy like a predator who’d been patient too long. He set his bottle down with a clink and crossed the room, boots heavy against the floorboards.
“Shift up,” he murmured to James, though his eyes were on you.
James, dazed with pleasure, obeyed—leaning back against the headboard, legs spread wider to give Sirius room. You pulled off James’ cock with a wet pop, lips swollen, chin slick. Before you could catch your breath, Sirius crouched in front of you, thumb sweeping across your lower lip to smear the shine.
“Messy little thing,” he said with a grin. “You like it, don’t you? On your knees, mouth full of cock, both of us watching.”
Heat rushed through you, but you didn’t answer—just parted your lips, tongue darting to chase his thumb. Sirius chuckled, dark and approving.
James groaned above you, fisting the sheets. “Pads, stop teasing. She’s driving me mad.”
“Oh, I’m not the one teasing,” Sirius replied smoothly. Then his hands caught your waist, strong and unyielding, and he hauled you up onto the bed.
You landed on your back across the sheets, breathless, as Sirius sprawled down beside you, clothes taken off. His lips brushed your ear, voice low and deliberate. “Here’s how we’re going to play this: I want you on my face, sweetheart. James on my cock. Both of you giving me something to feel.”
The words alone made you ache. James’ eyes went wide, his chest heaving. “You—you want me—”
Sirius laughed and smacked his thigh. “Yeah, Prongs. Don’t act shy now. You’ve been eyeing me up for years.” His grin softened into something filthier. “And I’ve been waiting to fuck you.”
The tension snapped like a whip. James stared for a beat too long, then dragged a hand down his face and muttered, “Fuck it.”
He moved fast, shoving his jeans the rest of the way off and climbing over Sirius with a mixture of nerves and hunger. Sirius lay back, cock already hard against his stomach, watching James with a smug little smirk.
“Good boy,” Sirius teased, voice vibrating with satisfaction. Then his hand slid up to beckon you closer. “And you, darling—up here. Sit that pretty cunt on my mouth.”
Your pulse thundered. James’ cock gleamed with spit, his body tense above Sirius, and you knew exactly what Sirius wanted: both of you tangled, grinding, desperate, with him caught in the middle.
And God, you wanted it too.
James froze above Sirius, straddling his thighs but not lowering down yet. His hands hovered awkwardly at his sides, fingers twitching like he didn’t know where to put them. His cock was flushed and dripping, so obviously aching, but his face was caught between disbelief and arousal. “Merlin’s sake, Pads, are you sure about this?”
Sirius tilted his head back against the pillow, hair spilling wild around him. He looked like sin incarnate, stretched out and waiting, grin lazy and wicked. “Look at me, Prongs. Do I look unsure?”
James’ gaze flicked down, taking in the hard length pressed against Sirius’ stomach, the way he lounged like a man utterly in control. James swallowed hard. “Bloody hell…”
“Relax.” Sirius reached up, brushing his hand along James’ thigh, the touch casual but electric. “You’ve trusted me with everything else. Trust me with this too.”
You knelt nearby, watching the push and pull between them, your own skin prickling with want. James glanced at you, and your breath caught at the raw uncertainty in his eyes.
“You really want this?” he asked, voice rough.
“Yeah,” you whispered, throat dry. “More than anything.”
That seemed to tip him. James let out a shaky laugh, running a hand through his messy hair before bracing himself over Sirius again. “You’re a fucking menace, Padfoot.”
Sirius smirked, eyes glinting. “And you love me for it.”
He guided James’ hips down with a firm grip, lining him up. James gasped when the blunt head of Sirius’ cock pressed against him—his whole body shuddering, torn between tension and need.
“Easy,” Sirius murmured, stroking his thigh soothingly. “Breathe, Prongs. Take it slow. I’ve got you.”
James let out a hiss, half-frustrated, half-desperate. “Fuck…”
“God, you’re beautiful like this,” Sirius went on, his voice soft but soaked with hunger. “Easy, love.”
You bit your lip, thighs rubbing together. James’ breath came faster, his cock twitching hard in front of you as Sirius coaxed him down inch by inch. The stretch had him trembling, his hands fisting the sheets on either side of Sirius’ head.
“Good boy,” Sirius praised, voice ragged now. “That’s it, ride me slow. Feels better than you thought, doesn’t it?”
James groaned low in his chest, nodding but not trusting himself to speak. His whole body arched, caught between pain and pleasure, while Sirius’ grin turned feral.
Then Sirius looked past James—straight at you. His tone dropped, dark and commanding. “Now, darling. Get up here and let me taste you. Let him watch while you ride my face.”
Your whole body buzzed as you crawled up the bed. Sirius’ hands caught your hips, guiding you over his chest and facing James until your knees planted on either side of his shoulders. He looked up at you with that wolfish grin, lips already parted.
“Sit,” he ordered.
You lowered slowly, heart hammering, until his mouth pressed hot and eager against you. The first swipe of his tongue made your thighs tremble, and then you were sinking fully down onto him, his tongue pushed deep.
“Oh—fuck—” You leaned forward, bracing your hands on his abs for balance, body rocking helplessly against his mouth.
Before you, James let out a strangled moan. You blinked up, dizzy with sensation, and nearly lost yourself at the sight: James straddling Sirius’ hips, head tipped back, his cock hard and dripping while Sirius filled him inch by inch.
His chest heaved, muscles straining as he rode down, and Sirius groaned into your cunt at the same time, the vibration shooting straight through you.
James looked down at you then, face flushed, hair sticking damp to his forehead. His voice broke on a laugh. “Fucking hell—we’re really doing this—”
You reached forward, wrapping your hand around his cock. The slick heat of him pulsed against your palm, and his whole body shuddered.
“Don’t stop,” he gasped, eyes locked on yours. “Please—don’t stop.”
You leaned forward, lips wrapping around the swollen head, sucking him deep while Sirius devoured you from below. James nearly collapsed, a guttural noise tearing from his throat as his hips jerked between your mouth and Sirius’ cock inside him.
“Christ—she’s—fuck—” His words cut off, replaced by gasps and curses. He fisted your hair tight, guiding you down his length, eyes glassy with pleasure.
Beneath it all, Sirius groaned against you, his tongue relentless, his cock buried in James. Every thrust of James’ hips pushed him deeper into both of you, the whole bed shaking with the rhythm.
“Look at us,” Sirius rasped between licks, his voice muffled against your cunt. “My two favorite people, falling apart on me.” He sucked your clit hard, making you cry out, before adding, “Ride me, Prongs. Make her choke on it while she soaks my face.”
James obeyed with a desperate sound, bouncing harder on Sirius’ cock. His moans grew louder, rougher, as he fucked himself down while you swallowed him greedily, drool slicking your chin.
The room was filled with the wet sounds of your mouth, Sirius’ tongue, the slap of James’ thighs. You were a mess together, tangled and hungry, each movement setting off the next until it felt like all three of you would break at once.
James’ rhythm grew frantic, thighs trembling as he fucked himself down on Sirius’ cock. Every drop of slick made the thrusts smoother, every bounce driving a groan out of him. His head lolled back, neck flushed red, chest gleaming with sweat.
“Fuck, Pads—” James gasped, voice wrecked. “You’re—too big—”
Sirius growled into your cunt, the sound vibrating through you. He dragged his mouth up your slit and nipped lightly at your clit, making your hips buck against his face. Then he pulled back just long enough to rasp, “You can take it, Prongs. You’re taking it so fucking well. Look at you—riding me like you were made for it.”
James’ answering moan was strangled, desperate. His grip tightened in your hair as you swallowed him down again, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat. He couldn’t decide which sensation to chase—your mouth milking him or Sirius splitting him apart from below.
Drool and spit ran down your chin, dripping onto Sirius’ chest. Your eyes watered, but you stayed on him, loving the way James’ whole body shuddered when you gagged around him.
“Bloody hell,” James groaned, thrusting shallowly into your mouth, each movement desperate but shaky. “She’s—shit, Pads, she’s going to make me—”
Sirius cut him off by sucking your clit hard, tongue circling, his hands pinning your hips down to his face. You screamed around James’ cock, the vibration sending him into a frenzy.
“Good girl,” Sirius praised against your cunt, his voice muffled, drenched in filth. “Drown me, sweetheart. Fuck my mouth while he fucks himself on me.”
You rocked harder against him, smearing your slick over his sharp cheekbones as his tongue worked mercilessly. Your thighs trembled, nails scratching at James’ hips for balance.
James’ eyes dropped to you, wild and glazed. The sight of you grinding on Sirius’ face while his cock stretched your throat made his hips stutter violently. “I can’t—fuck—I’m gonna—”
“Don’t you dare pull out,” Sirius snapped, still lapping at you. His free hand smacked James’ arse sharply, making him jolt. “Give it to her. Down her throat. Make her swallow every drop.”
James cursed loud, hips slamming forward. You gagged and moaned at once, tears slipping free, and the raw sound of your devotion made him groan deep from his chest.
The three of you moved like a machine now—James bouncing helplessly, Sirius grinding into him while tonguing you open, you choking and drooling as you sucked James with everything you had. Every thrust, every lick, every swallow wound the tension tighter and tighter.
It felt dangerous, overwhelming, inevitable.
James was unraveling fast. His thighs shook where they straddled Sirius, every downward drop forcing a guttural moan from his throat. You could feel it in the way his cock pulsed against your tongue, swollen and throbbing, begging for release.
But Sirius wasn’t about to let either of you finish just yet.
He tore his mouth from your cunt for a moment, lips shiny with slick, and snarled up at James. “Slow the fuck down, Prongs.”
You whimpered—actually whimpered—at the sudden loss of Sirius’ tongue beneath you. James’ hips jerked like he couldn’t help himself. “Pads, I—please, I can’t—”
“You can,” Sirius snapped, grip tightening on your thighs. James moaned helplessly, eyes fluttering. “You’re going to take it at my pace. Not yours. Mine.”
His hand slid from your hip to James’, gripping so tight his knuckles whitened. Sirius guided him, forcing a slower grind down his cock, deeper and more deliberate, until James was keening with every inch.
“Look at him,” Sirius growled, eyes flicking to you. “Fucking gorgeous like this. Can’t decide if he wants to fuck your throat raw or beg me to split him open.”
Your lips slid off James with a wet pop, saliva stringing between your mouth and his cock. You stroked him slowly, deliberately cruel, watching the way his stomach clenched. “He looks like he wants both.”
James cursed, shoving into your fist, but Sirius wrenched his hips back down with a brutal snap.
“Don’t let him off easy, sweetheart,” Sirius ordered, voice low. “Tease the fuck out of him. Make him work for it.”
So you did—kitten licks along the tip, a shallow suck, your tongue tracing just under the head while your hand gripped the base tight. James nearly sobbed, torn between grinding down on Sirius and begging you for more.
“Fuck—fuck, you’re both evil—” James gasped, sweat dripping down his temples. “I can’t—don’t stop—oh, bloody hell—”
Sirius’ lips were back on you then, tongue stabbing deep, pulling out and tracing circles around your clit. You cried out, clutching James tighter as your hips ground helplessly against Sirius’ face. His growl vibrated through you, sending shocks up your spine.
James stared down at the sight of you writhing above Sirius, your thighs trembling as he devoured you. His cock twitched violently in your hand. “She’s gonna—she’s gonna come, Pads, look at her—”
“Not yet,” Sirius rasped against your cunt. “I want her dripping all over me before I let any of us finish.” His tongue circled mercilessly, his hands clamping your thighs so hard you’d bruise.
You were shaking, pleasure boiling over but never tipping, because every time you got close, Sirius shifted his rhythm—slowing, dragging it out, making you beg.
Your voice broke. “Please—Sirius, please, I need—”
He laughed darkly, slick dripping down his chin. “That’s it, darling. Beg. The more you beg, the sweeter it’ll taste.”
James was no better, reduced to a trembling mess above him, biting his lip so hard it bled. His cock was iron-hard in your hand, veins throbbing. He tried to fuck your fist but Sirius forced him down slower, stretching him deeper until James cried out, eyes rolling back.
“Christ,” Sirius groaned. “I could keep you both on the edge all fucking night.”
And it felt true—none of you had come yet, but every nerve was lit up, strung tight, wracked with too much sensation to handle. The air smelled of sweat, spit, and sex, every breath heavy with it.
You were drowning together, and Sirius held all the strings.
Sirius’ grip on James’ hips was merciless, holding him down even as James writhed, desperate for more friction, more speed, more anything. His cock leaked freely in your fist, smearing slick down your fingers as you teased the head with feather-light licks.
“Pads,” James whined, voice cracking, “Please, let me—fuck, I’m gonna—”
“Not yet,” Sirius cut him off sharply, biting at your inner thigh hard enough to make you gasp. His tongue licked over the sting immediately after, smug. “Neither of you are coming until I say so.”
You shivered, every muscle strung tight, hips jerking against his mouth. His tongue dragged slowly, lazily, like he had all the time in the world to ruin you. Every time you thought he’d let you tip, he changed pace, pulling back to blow cool air across your soaked folds until you were sobbing with need.
James was no better, trembling, eyes squeezed shut. His thighs quivered where they straddled Sirius, sweat dripping down his flushed chest. He tried to chase your hand with shallow thrusts, but you slowed your movements cruelly, matching Sirius’ rhythm. Every stroke of your fist stopped just before the head, making him choke on a moan of frustration.
“Fuck, fuck, I can’t—” James babbled, his head dropping forward until his sweaty curls brushed your cheek. His voice was wrecked, ragged. “I need to come, I’m begging you, please—”
Sirius only smirked up at him from between your thighs, lips glistening, chin slick with your wetness. “Look at you,” he rasped, tongue flicking your clit just long enough to make you cry out. “Both of you—already fucked out and you haven’t even given me what I want yet.”
“What—what do you want?” You gasped, clutching at James’ biceps for balance.
He moaned, sucking your clit hard until your vision sparked, then pulled back just long enough to snap, “I want you to break. I want Prongs to break. I want to drag you both through it so many times you forget how to breathe.”
James’ cock twitched violently in your fist at those words, his whole body shuddering. He buried his face against your shoulder, teeth scraping your skin. “He’s gonna kill me,” James groaned, voice muffled. “Fuck, Pads, you’re gonna kill me.”
Sirius laughed low, dangerous, and pulled you down harder against his face, burying his tongue inside you until you screamed. At the same time, he thrust up into James with a brutal snap of his hips, forcing a strangled sob out of him.
It was too much. Too slow, too deep, too relentless. You were both teetering on the edge, writhing, begging, broken open under Sirius’ hands.
Your thighs were shaking so violently you thought they might give out, but Sirius’ grip was iron. Every flick of his tongue had your whole body jerking, and every sharp grind of his hips beneath James made the bed creak. You could hear James’ desperate little whimpers right in your ear, breath hot against your skin as he tried and failed to hold himself together.
“Pads,” he croaked, voice gone raw. “I—I can’t hold it—”
Sirius growled against your cunt, sending another shudder ripping through you. He pulled back just enough to speak, lips wet and swollen. “Both of you. Together. Don’t come until I tell you. When I say, you let go. Understand?”
You nodded frantically, tears streaking down your cheeks, while James gave a broken, “Y-yeah—” though his cock twitched violently in your hand, dripping all over your knuckles.
Sirius’ grin was wicked. “Good little pets.”
Then he stopped teasing. His tongue moved with brutal precision, sucking your clit like he meant to rip the orgasm out of you, while his hips slammed up hard into James. The sudden change tore screams from both of you—James’ moans ragged against your ear, your cries muffled against his shoulder.
“Now,” Sirius snarled, voice guttural, command vibrating through both of you. “Fucking come for me.”
The words were a detonator.
You shattered with a scream, your thighs locking around his head as wave after wave of release broke you open. His tongue never stopped, devouring everything you gave, dragging your orgasm out until you thought you’d pass out.
At the same time, James fell apart in your hand, his cock pulsing violently as he spilled hot down your wrist and Sirius’ abs. He sobbed against your neck, muffling his cries in your skin as his whole body convulsed.
Sirius groaned, hips bucking up into James, the sound nearly lost beneath both of your cries. The tight heat around his cock finally dragged him over the edge, and he spilled deep inside James with a guttural snarl, holding both of you locked against him while he shook with it.
The room spun, thick with panting breaths and the smell of sex.
You collapsed forward, forehead pressed against James’ shoulder, your body boneless. James trembled above Sirius, chest heaving, his curls damp with sweat as he clung to you.
Beneath you both, Sirius lay sprawled like a satisfied king, hair wild, lips glistening, eyes heavy-lidded but smug.
“Well,” he drawled after a long, shaky silence, his voice rough with use. “That… was bloody brilliant.”
James let out a laugh that cracked halfway through, muffled against your skin. “You’re—insufferable.”
“And yet,” Sirius smirked, giving James’ arse a lazy squeeze, “you’ll both be begging me for more tomorrow.”
You couldn’t muster a reply—James hadn’t even finished trembling when Sirius shifted under the both of you. His hands, firm on your thighs, slid down to squeeze your hips before shoving you off his face until you were pressed chest-to-chest with James. The movement forced James to stay seated on Sirius’ cock, every inch still buried deep inside him.
James whimpered, his whole body flinching. “Pads—wait—I can’t—”
“Oh, you can.” Sirius’ voice was low and dangerous, his grin all teeth. “You’re still hard. Look at you—dripping all over my stomach and twitching like you want more.”
You felt James shudder against you, caught between overstimulation and want. His cock was flushed, swollen, smeared with his own release—but Sirius wasn’t wrong. He hadn’t softened at all.
Sirius tilted his head, catching your dazed eyes. “Sweetheart. Don’t think you’re off the hook either. I want you on him—ride his cock while I fuck him open. Let’s see how much our precious Prongs can take.”
Your stomach clenched, a hot bolt of desire sparking through you even though you were still trembling from your orgasm. “Sirius—he’ll break—”
“That’s the point.” Sirius shoved his hips up sharply, making James cry out with a strangled sob. “I want him ruined.”
James clung to you desperately, face buried in your neck, but the noise he made wasn’t protest—it was wrecked, needy, desperate. His cock twitched against your stomach like it was begging.
Sirius grinned like a wolf who’d cornered his prey. “Hear that, sweetheart? He’s begging without even speaking. Come on. Sit pretty on him for me.”
Your hands shook as you reached between your bodies, guiding James to your entrance. He was slick with spit and come, sliding easily against you. James whined when the head nudged your folds, trembling like he’d come again just from that.
“Easy,” Sirius coaxed from below, though his tone dripped with dark amusement. “Let her sink down slow, Prongs. Feel every inch of her while I split you wider.”
You braced yourself on James’ shoulders and lowered. The stretch of him filling you was almost unbearable with how sensitive you still were, but the look on James’ face made it worth it—his head thrown back, lips parted, a moan torn straight from his chest as you sank down around him.
“Fuck—fuck—she’s—Merlin, Pads, I can’t—”
“Yes, you can.” Sirius’ hands tightened bruisingly on James’ hips, dragging him down harder onto his cock just as you bottomed out. The three of you groaned together at the sensation—James trapped between you both, cock buried in your cunt, Sirius buried in him.
You clenched around James involuntarily, and his whole body shook. “Too much,” he gasped, though his hips jerked helplessly up into you. “It’s—it’s too much—”
Sirius laughed darkly, snapping his hips up in a brutal thrust that made James choke on a scream. “Too much is exactly what you need.”
You caught James’ face in your hands, forcing him to look at you through tear-bright eyes. “Breathe, love. Just breathe.” You rolled your hips slowly, grinding on his cock while Sirius fucked him from below.
James’ moan broke, high and shattered. “Bloody hell—she’s—tight—fuck, Pads, I’m—”
Sirius smirked up at both of you, sweat dripping down his temples, eyes feral. “That’s it, Prongs. Take it like a good boy. Her cunt squeezing you, my cock wrecking you. You’re ours now.”
James’ nails dug into your back as he sobbed against your shoulder, hips moving despite himself. You could feel every brutal thrust of Sirius through him, every twitch of his cock inside you, every ragged breath against your neck.
And Sirius wasn’t letting up. He set a relentless pace, using James like a toy, forcing his body to fuck into you even when James thought he couldn’t take any more.
Your own pleasure built again shockingly fast, nerves fried but desperate, every movement setting your clit against James’ v-line. You moaned into his mouth, kissing him through the mess of it, and his answering whimper was almost broken.
“She’s—she’s squeezing me—Pads, I’m gonna—fuck, I can’t stop—”
Sirius chuckled dark and sharp, fucking up into him harder. “Don’t stop. Spill inside her while I fuck it deeper into you. Make a mess of her cunt for me.”
James screamed against your lips, and you knew neither of you would last.
James’ cry tore through the room, desperate and helpless, his cock jerking inside you as he spilled hot and thick, pulse after pulse painting your walls. His whole body convulsed between you and Sirius, but Sirius didn’t stop—not for a second.
“That’s it, Prongs,” Sirius growled, snapping his hips harder, driving himself deeper into James’ trembling body. “Come for her, and I’ll fuck every drop back into you.”
You felt it—felt James still pulsing inside you, even as he whimpered brokenly against your lips. He was gone, already past the edge, but his hips kept moving anyway, helplessly rutting into you as Sirius forced him into a brutal rhythm.
“Sirius—” you gasped, overwhelmed yourself, your cunt fluttering wildly around James. “He—he’s not stopping—”
“Good.” Sirius’ voice was feral, sweat dripping from his hairline, eyes wild as he pounded up into James with vicious precision. “He’s not allowed to stop. Not until he breaks.”
James sobbed, high and wrecked, his nails raking down your back as another orgasm tore through him too soon, his cock twitching violently inside you. His whole body shook with it, a strangled noise caught in his throat as he gave in, spilling again despite the tears streaking his flushed face.
You moaned at the feeling, at the sight of him unraveling so completely. “He’s—Merlin, he’s still coming—”
“Because he’s mine,” Sirius snarled, dragging James down harder onto his cock, fucking up so hard the bedframe rattled. “Ours. He’ll come until there’s nothing left in him.”
James’ head lolled against your shoulder, his eyes glassy and unfocused, but his body kept giving—every sharp thrust from Sirius forced another ragged sound, another twitch, another helpless spurt inside you until you were shaking on him, pushed over the edge yourself with a scream.
You clamped down around James’ cock, dragging him deeper into your orgasm, and he convulsed beneath you, completely undone. Sirius groaned at the way James tightened around him, slamming up one last brutal time before burying himself to the hilt, spilling hot into him.
For a moment, the only sound was the wet slap of skin, the ragged chorus of moans and cries, and then the collapse—James finally going boneless, trembling violently, his body utterly spent.
He sagged into you, barely conscious, his breaths shallow little gasps against your skin. Sirius held him in place with a possessive grip, chest heaving, a wolfish grin still plastered across his face.
“Look at him,” Sirius panted, eyes glittering as he stroked his hands down James’ sweat-slick sides. “Ruined. Beautiful. Could fuck him for days like this.”
James let out the faintest whimper, incoherent, and his lashes fluttered as if he couldn’t even hold his eyes open.
You brushed damp curls from his forehead, kissing his temple softly even as your own body shook. “He’s done, Pads,” you whispered, voice gentle where Sirius’ was cruel. “You’ve broken him.”
Sirius only smirked, leaning up to nip at your throat. “Exactly what I wanted.”
