Okay, that may be an absurd request. But isn't that what fan fiction is for after all?!
Tom Riddle / Voldemort's daughter!reader and Sirius balck. I need a violent(!) love-hate relationship. (A spoiler for you about my current love life:))
If it's okay for you to write, I'd love to read from you.
And if possible, I would prefer Sirius who graduated from Hogwarts, maybe never sent to Azkaban or just released. It is a pleasure to read a little in adulthood.
Thank you very much in advance 🤍🤍🤍
Hi! I hope your love life is going better (And seriously, if you need someone to talk to about your current situation, I'm here for you)
Idk how violent love-hate this is. I tried to do an enemies to lovers type of thing? Hopefully you enjoy this ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎
It's set post-war, James and Lily are dead and Sirius is raising Harry w/ Remus.
Blood is(n't) everything
Sirius Black x Riddle!reader
part 2
4.5k words
cw: angst, hurt/comfort, the tiniest bit of fluff, discussion of war, drinking
You knew from the moment you were born that you had Helga Hufflepuff’s blood running through your veins. Your mother was the niece of Hepzihab Smith, who constantly bragged about being a Hufflepuff descendant. You should have been a shoo-in for Hufflepuff when you arrived at Hogwarts. Imagine everyone’s surprise when you got sorted into Slytherin.
I guess blood isn’t everything, you mused time and time again.
You felt very at home in Slytherin. People seemed to get you. Part of you felt slightly bad that you agreed with the ones that said “Better than Slytherin than Hufflepuff if you ask me.” Hufflepuff, despite being family, felt soft and you were anything but.
Voldemort’s main rise to power occurred while you were in school. You paid attention to who agreed with his beliefs and who didn’t. Knowing where people’s beliefs and loyalties laid, all while keeping yours close to your chest, allowed you to be on good terms with a wide variety of people.
But as Voldemort gained more and more followers, you grew more curious about him. It took a bit of digging and research. You found out when he might’ve attended Hogwarts and from a meticulously careful conversation with Professor Slughorn, you discovered his real name. A name he stopped going by. Tom Riddle.
That might not mean anything to any of your peers, but it did to you. Your mother had mentioned your father to you a handful of times, saying how charming he was and how kind he was to visit her aging aunt. Tom Riddle was your father and that made you a descendant of Slytherin, just like he was.
Maybe blood is everything.
---
Years passed and your father fell at the hands of James and Lily Potter. The ministry tried rounding up all of the known Death Eaters. Anyone with the mark would be put away. Lucky for you, you never took the mark. Your name was enough. You hadn’t taken part in some of the more heinous activities, but your connection to your father’s followers was obvious. You had worked to convince uncertain witches and wizards that blood status meant everything.
Now that Voldemort had fallen, you returned to holding your beliefs close to your chest again. You found a job that was able to ignore whatever past you had with the Dark Arts and while some did remember your part in upping Voldemort’s numbers, you were able to move on with your life. For the most part, that is.
“How the hell did trash like you manage to stay out of Azkaban?” Sirius drawled from behind where you sat at the bar.
You clicked your tongue as you looked over your shoulder. You had hoped for a quiet night. A few drinks at the bar and then off to bed. That was your plan.
“Black, lovely. Can’t say I know what you mean though.”
“We all know about your connection to your father.”
“Being born isn’t enough to lock someone up.”
“It should be,” he sighed, moving closer to the bar to signal the bartender to pour him a drink. “Although, you did more than be born.”
“No one can prove I did anything to be locked up over.” You took a sip of your drink. “Say, how is the Potter boy? You and that half blood are taking care of him now that his mummy and daddy are in the ground?”
Sirius’ face immediately burned. He tipped the bottom of your cup upward so your drink spilled all over your lap. You hummed nonchalantly, waving your hand over yourself to dry your clothes.
“Classy, Black. Real classy.”
“You have no right to talk about the Potters,” he hissed.
“Another one, sir,” you called to the bartender and then turned your gaze back to the man standing next to you. “Why’s that?”
“You damn well know why.”
“I mean, technically, they killed my father so me and that boy got something in common, don’t we?”
Sirius looked like he was about to punch you. The bartender came to your rescue though, handing you another cocktail and Sirius his shot. He threw it back and immediately asked for another.
“But speaking of families… How are Regulus and Walburga? Haven’t heard from either recently.”
“Regulus is… he’s dead,” Sirius said firmly. “And Mother, who the hell knows or cares. Why were you in contact with her?”
“Shame about Regulus. I liked ‘im,” you replied, not answering Sirius’ question.
The answer was actually quite innocent. You had wanted to talk to her about being a well-positioned woman in a noble family and Regulus had connected you.
“Just another casualty to blame on your family,” Sirius grumbled, tossing back the second shot.
“You seem to have a lot of thoughts on the matter. Care to sit and talk about it?” you asked, your tone mocking.
You really didn’t expect Sirius to sigh and then take the stool next to you. Despite not being vocal about your beliefs in school, you and Sirius never really got along. You were a Slytherin afterall and he hated each and every one in your house, even Regulus. There had been one kiss between the two of you — that game of spin the bottle was the end of your participation in party games. And then after school, you really went your separate ways. So to say that you and Sirius weren’t even really acquaintances would be correct.
“You helped tear apart families. Innocent people were killed. Over what? Purifying wizardkind?” he snarked before ordering a whiskey.
A sipping drink, you thought, that means he’s going to sit here.
“I don’t expect you to understand,” you said. “Loyalty to family and all.”
“Please, if you really knew my family… You would’ve left too. Actual Slytherin families are far worse than the Hufflepuffs who raised you.”
You shook your head. “For someone who preaches not judging, you are quick to judge.”
“What?”
“Not all Slytherins are the same, which you should know. I’ve heard about Andromeda.” You swirled your drink before taking a slow sip. “But if you think home was all sunshine and roses, especially after my sorting, you’re well mistaken.”
“S’pose that would’ve been disappointing for your mum.”
You gave a dry laugh. “A bit, yeah. Even after I reminded her that my dad was in Slytherin.”
There’s a few moments of silence between you as you each work on your drink. You are both thinking back to your sortings and the letters from home that followed. Disappointment emanated from each stroke of ink. You weren’t where you were supposed to. You managed to stray from your blood — well, you didn’t stray from your blood but at the time, you thought you did.
“He wouldn’t have been a loving father, you know,” Sirius said.
“And you’d know that?”
Sirius nodded.
“How do you reckon you and your friend are doing?” you asked, beginning with genuine curiosity. Then a twisted part of you continued, “Going to throw him to the streets if he doesn’t get sorted into Gryffindor?”
Sirius let out a long, deep sigh. You assumed he was regretting sitting down. You didn’t need to know Sirius all that well to be able to press his buttons. He was simply that predictable.
“He has so much crimson and gold in his blood-” Sirius started to say, but you cut him off.
“You’d have me believing that blood doesn’t mean shit, though!”
“Listen here, you little bitch.” His patience was running thin.
“I will if you commit. Does blood mean everything or not? Because if it does, then your boy’s a Gryffindor and I can be damned for being a Riddle but all those little mudbloods taint wizardkind. If it means nothing, then I’m innocent and you can be whoever you want to be.”
“You’re damned because you preached He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s agenda.”
“I’m damned for worse things,” you said with a wicked grin adorning your lips. “You know, those things no one can prove were me.”
Suddenly, Sirius whipped his wand out and had it pressed against your throat under your chin. His eyes bore into yours. You showed no fear, your grin only widened.
“What’re you going to do? Curse me? Hex me? Kill me?”
“I oughta…”
“Oi! Take it outside!” the bartender yelled.
You smirked, placing a few galleons on the counter.
“On me, Black.” You stood up, Sirius’ wand moving with you. “You heard the man. This is a respectable business. If you have issues with me, we’ll take it outside.”
You turned your back on Sirius and made for the door. You looked back at him. He stood unmoving by the counter where you left him. You rolled your eyes.
“Come on, pretty boy. Or do I need to insult you some more?”
Sirius narrowed his eyes in your direction, but he followed you anyway. Once outside, you led him into an alley.
“I feel like you’re going to murder me back here…” he muttered.
You kicked over a crate so that it was a good height for you to sit on. Sirius, however, chose to remain standing. He did lean against the grimy wall with a steady grip on his wand.
“If anyone’s being murdered out here, it’s me. Trust me, you’re not the only one who’d like to see me six feet in the ground.”
“If you really think I’d kill you, why did you insist I come out here with you?”
“Because I don’t think you’ll do it. You don’t have it in you. Not in cold blood. If we were dueling, then maybe. But if I’m sitting here, looking pretty with my wand tucked away, I’m perfectly safe with you.”
Sirius frowns. He doesn’t retort with anything because he knows you’re right. Yes, you were the daughter of the man who killed two of his best friends. Yes, he knew you did horrid things, but you were right that no one could prove you did anything more than preach the inferiority of muggleborns. He couldn’t justify killing you.
You tilted your head as you viewed Sirius in the alley’s low lighting.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a waste of pureblood?” That genuine curiosity had returned.
“All the time. Right up there with being told I’m a disappointment and a stain on the Black name. But, do tell, why do you think I’m a waste?”
“You don’t seem to want to settle down and have a family.”
That caught Sirius off-guard. He had more-or-less settled down to raise Harry, but besides the little boy and Remus, he didn’t have any desire for a family. His hadn’t given him that want and he had found that he could live without it.
“You’re pretty. You have good blood in you, whether you acknowledge it or not. I hear plenty of people actually like you. You’re just like a few moral standards short of being the perfect bachelor.”
“Like you know anything of moral standards…”
You stood up and walked over to Sirius. You stood right in front of him, close enough to feel his whiskey-scented breath. You dragged the backside of your hand down his cheek.
“Just because my morals are different than yours doesn’t mean mine don’t exist.”
“Yet you just said mine didn’t-”
“No, I didn’t. I said you were short,” you corrected him, cutting him off again. “You could… raise them. Higher standards are what you need. Then you’d surround yourself with better people.”
Sirius gave your shoulders a push to make you step away from him.
“I’m only surrounded by the lowest of the low when I’m around your kind,” he spat.
“Those willing to do anything for their families?”
Sirius didn’t give any warning. He slashed his wand, sending you flying backwards into the crate you had been sitting in earlier.
“You can’t preach doing anything and having morals at the same time, sweetheart,” he snarled, slowly approaching where you laid in the splintered wood.
“I disagree,” you groaned. You reached for your wand and a quick wave had flames shooting out of it.
Sirius jumped out of the way, but it gave you a moment to rise to your feet.
“Sometimes-” You sent more flames out of your wand, causing Sirius to jump out of the way. “-you have set aside-” More flames and he deflected. “-what some consider good so that you can have a moment-” Flames singed the edges of Sirius’ clothing. “-with your absent father.”
“Fathers aren’t worth it!” He shot a geyser of water in your direction.
“Then you haven’t properly longed for one.” Enchanted ropes wrapped themselves around Sirius’ feet and he fell to the ground.
Another wave of your wand had his being ripped from his hands. You caught it with ease.
“Your little Order didn’t teach you to duel all that well, did it?” you cooed as you stood over him. Now with his wand in your hands, the ropes bound his hands as well. “You should really consider your opponent before you engage, Black.”
Then you sat just out of his reach. You knew better than to sit too close, even with his extremities bound, Sirius could do damage to you.
“You’re sitting?”
You nodded. “I offered to talk inside and you’re the one bringing magic into it all. Figured maybe you do want to talk, but you’re too hot headed to do so civilly.” You paused before adding thoughtfully, “Orion got that way.”
“I’m nothing like my father,” Sirius snarled.
“Oh, don’t say nothing. You two are plenty alike. Just… aligned differently.”
“The fuck does that mean?”
“How do I say this in a way that won’t piss you off more?” You clicked your tongue as you thought, taking your time as if to prove to Sirius that this interaction was now on your time. “Your family likes the cosmos, right? Think of it like this: you each have your north star that you follow. Or you’re both looking for the brightest star but you have different hemispheres.” You tilted your head as you tried to study Sirius’ expression. “I’m sure he thought he was raising you the right way in the same way you think you’re raising the Potter boy the right way.”
“My father didn’t care for me or Regulus.”
“Au contraire, Black. You should know that he absolutely adores Regulus. And as stubborn as you were, he loved you until you got sorted into Gryffindor and made a bigger mess than he could clean up.”
“How would you know that?”
“Oh, did you not know I’ve been for tea for Walburga several times? And Orion likes to have a few after, as you should know.”
“I’m aware… Bit weird you had tea with my mother though…”
You shrugged. “I needed advice.”
“You?” Sirius scoffed. “You needed advice?”
“Never claimed to know it all.”
“You sure act like it.”
“And you act like the most righteous person in the ally, yet you cast the first spell.”
Sirius didn’t respond and you didn’t continue. You twirled your wand in between your fingers. You could feel Sirius watching your dexterity. You wanted him to be the next one to talk. He clearly had more to say to you, but he remained silent.
After a few minutes of nothing, you sighed and waved your wand to unbind Sirius. He rubbed his wrists immediately after. You were surprised that he didn’t reach for his wand right away. He did after a few moments and adjusted himself so he was sitting across from you.
“Is it lonely for you?” you asked in a soft voice. “Living in the aftermath of the war.”
Sirius blinked slowly. Your words sank in slowly.
“I… I lost a lot of friends, but I wouldn’t say I’m lonely. The survivors, we make do. We’re there for each other. I have Remus. The Weasleys. Dumbledore when I need him. Mad-Eye Moody is a character. We support each other.” He stared at you. “Are you lonely?”
“Didn’t live my life for friends. And the friends I did have? Dead. Apparently all of them. Or Azkaban.” You chuckled softly. “Bit sad, innit?”
“You chose that life.”
“I chose chasing a family who, I should’ve known this, didn’t want me. And I chose protecting myself. Chasing family and being safe shouldn’t leave me alone.”
“I chased a family and I protected myself,” Sirius said. “It was a chosen family, rather than blood. And I protected others in addition to myself. That’s how you don’t end up alone.”
“Yeah, well, it’s too late for me.” You sighed and then looked at Sirius. “You have your wand. Why don’t you get it over with or leave me alone?”
Sirius shook his head. “I don’t think you should be alone right now. I disagree with you on so much, but… the life of a disappointing family is something I’m far too familiar with.”
“If you hadn’t put a wand to my throat, I’d say let’s go back inside and get a drink,” you said dryly.
Then Sirius stood up and extended his hand. “There are other bars, Smith. Next one’s on me.”
You found a different bar. The two of you sat, drank and discussed the war and everyone you lost to it. You talked about being disappointed in your father’s reaction to your existence and wanting to be worth something to him. Sirius listened, nodding. He got where you were coming from, even if he sorely disagreed with everything Tom Riddle stood for. Sirius loved pissing his family off, being everything they hated, but he knew that life wasn’t for everything. Some people needed that feeling of acceptance. Hell, even he did and he found that in the Potters.
When the night came to its end, Sirius said, “You know, you don’t have to be quite so lonely.”
“What do you mean?”
“Saturday. Hippogriff’s Nest at eight?”
“Are you asking me on a date?” you asked with a sly smile. You knew he wasn’t.
“Yeah, right,” he said sarcastically. “I’m offering a conversation and some drinks. Between… acquaintances?”
“Yeah, alright.” Your answer wasn’t sarcastic.
Sirius nodded and disapparated. You followed suit after one more drink.
It was the start of a pattern. Every few nights, you’d meet with Sirius to talk about anything and everything. You discussed childhoods and your years at school. Your singular kiss came up briefly, and you’re not sure who wanted to change the subject quicker. Sometimes one of you would go too far with an insult and spells would be exchanged. That was why you rarely visited the same bar twice; you weren’t sure if you’d be let back in.
Slowly but surely, you felt the acquaintanceship melt into something fonder. You started to consider Sirius as your friend. You personally disliked how you really should’ve considered him your best friend, given that many of your other friends were people you almost never spoke to anymore.
---
“Padfoot, what the bloody hell is this?” Remus demanded as he threw the Daily Prophet down in front of him.
“That’d be the newspaper, Moony,” Sirius said casually.
“What’s in the paper?”
Sirius glanced down momentarily. “You got it open to Skeeter’s gossip section. That’s rubbish and you know it.”
“Read it,” Remus hissed.
With a roll of his eyes, Sirius looked down at the paper again. This time reading the headline, “FAMILY TIES?”, and seeing the picture of you and him, both of you looking at each other and moving with an air of affection. Sirius turned bright red and couldn’t look at Remus. He hadn’t told his cohabitor that he had been meeting with you.
“You know I wouldn’t normally believe anything she writes, but that?” Remus pointed to the picture. “That is pretty damning, Pads. You know who she is.”
“I do,” Sirius muttered.
“Then tell me what the fuck this is? How do you explain this?”
“It’s a drink. People tend to get them at bars.”
“And the picture? You talked to her? At least help some kind of conversation with her? How were they able to get this picture?”
Remus sounded exasperated. As he should, Sirius thought.
“Sit down, Remus,” he said, trying to maintain his own composure. He wasn’t ready to explain everything to his best friend just yet. When Remus took a seat, Sirius continued, “I’m giving her a second chance.”
“She doesn’t deserve one.”
“Remus, listen. We’ve been talking-”
“Ugh!”
“I knew you’d react this way. That’s why I didn’t tell you! I know what she’s done, what she’s supported-”
“Who she’s related to!” Remus exclaimed bitterly.
“Who she’s related to. But you know she can choose her blood as much as I can.”
“I can’t believe you’re defending the Dark Lord’s daughter. Imagine what James would say!”
“He would question me. He’d be on your side. He’d be bloody furious at me. I have every reason to hex her into next millenia. And yet, I can’t help it. I’m giving her a second chance and she has yet to blow it.”
“When she blows it, she’ll take you down with her.”
“It’s not a when, Moony. It’s an if and I don’t think she will.”
“It’s your own damn funeral.”
“I know.”
Remus held his head in his hands for a minute, too upset and frustrated to even look at Sirius.
“How long have you been seeing her?” Remus asked the table.
“We’ve been getting drinks for a few months now, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Months? Padfoot!”
“Like I said, she hasn’t burned me yet.” He paused and chuckled to himself. “Well, she’s burned my clothes.”
Remus’ head snapped up. “What?”
“We’ve dueled. Several times. She’s a big fan of fire curses.”
“Merlin’s fucking beard. You’re drinking with someone who’s trying to literally burn you?”
“She tries to burn me, I try to bleed her out,” Sirius said with a shrug.
Remus was infuriated with how casual he was acting about it.
“She’s the bloody daughter of the Dark Lord and you’re… you’re… you’re…”
“Helping her move on from her past.”
“I can’t… I can’t with you right now.”
Remus got up from the table and walked away. Sirius remained in the kitchen and read the column about you and Sirius. He knew so much of it was exaggerated and misinterpreted. He was certain that you had never leaned in close enough to kiss him that entire night. He rolled his eyes at the article. But he kept looking back at the photo. The photo’s version of him was looking at you with an inexplicably fond gaze. And you were returning it.
Had he been looking at you like that? Had you been looking at him like that? Why did he feel like he needed to know?
It gave Sirius something to think about before he saw you again a few days later.
You met at the bar, like you usually did. You ordered your drinks. You told him about your day at work. He told you about Harry’s latest neighborhood adventures. It was a normal conversation.
Then Sirius cleared his throat.
“Did you see Rita Skeeter’s article?” he asked tentatively.
You shook your head with a frown. “With a family like mine? No, I tend to avoid the gossip section. I’m surprised you don’t.”
“Oh, I usually avoid it. Erm, Remus pointed out an interesting article to me. It’s all gossip, but still… interesting.”
You bit the inside of your cheek and tilted your head. “Interesting how?”
“Just… eye-opening, I guess,” Sirius said.
He put some coins on the counter and took your hand. “Come with me.”
You didn’t protest despite your confusion. You let Sirius lead you out of the bar and into the alley.
“Decided to finally kill after all?” you teased, thinking back to when Sirius first ran into you.
Instead of answering your question, Sirius slammed you into the wall. It was rougher than he intended, knocking the wind out of you. You tried to reach for your wand, but Sirius grabbed your wrist and pinned it to the wall next to your shoulder.
“I need to try something,” he whispered.
He stared into your eyes for a second. Then he brought his lips to yours, barely brushing against them. You could feel him take a shaky breath. His lips pressed against yours with more force. Your body responded before you could get over your shock. You were kissing Sirius with more fervor than he was kissing you. His hand that wasn’t holding your wrist gripped your waist and your free hand made its way to his hair.
When he pulled back, you made a desperate attempt to recapture his lips, but he moved away from you with his whole body. You stood against the wall as he stepped into the middle of the alley. He ran one hand through his hair and the other down his face.
“Fuck…” he whispered to himself.
You watched him, confused. First he pulled you out of the bar and into the alley to kiss you and now he was acting like he just messed something up.
“What, Black?” you asked, your voice cutting through the darkness. “You got to talk to me. This ain’t Hogwarts.”
“Fuck…” he swore again, mostly to himself before turning to you. “It was better than the one at Hogwarts.”
You didn’t respond. You were unsure if you should say anything, because what Sirius just said didn’t really answer your question. Why was he so upset?
“The article. Skeeter’s gossip. It was about us. And the article was utter bullshit. But the picture… the fucking picture…”
“The picture made you want to kiss me?” you asked, disbelieving.
“The way I looked at you in the picture,” he corrected, his voice dropping lower. “I shouldn’t look at you like that, but…”
“But you do?” you asked softly.
“Yeah, I fucking do. And I shouldn’t. Everything says I shouldn’t.”
“Right,” you said. You sounded hurt and a bit bitter. Which you had every right to sound. After everything you talked about and how much time you were spending together, you thought Sirius had moved on from some stuff. Apparently not. “So you look at me. And you kiss me. Yet you want nothing to do with me. I get it, Black, I do. I got Riddle blood and that’s an end all.”
You didn’t wait for him to respond. You just disapparated on the spot to your flat. Sirius stared at where you had been standing. He wasn’t done talking to you. He wasn’t done processing what he was feeling. And now you were gone.
He can’t even follow you as he doesn’t know where you live. He figures that maybe he could send you an owl. Those birds can find anyone.
Sirius disapparated himself, appearing in his kitchen. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey and decided to drink the whole thing in the solitary of his room. All he wanted was to forget the look of hurt on your face when you said “I get it, Black, I do.” It took him no time at all to finish the bottle and pass out in his bed. His thoughts were plagued with your hurt expression and that bled into nightmares. As it turned out, Sirius cared for you more than he wanted to admit to himself and now he had to somehow undo the damage he did to you.
Blood isn’t everything. And Sirius knows that more than anyone. Now, he needed to remind you of that.
