rating: 18+. mdni.
content: incest/twincest, physical descriptions are used
word count: 369
Valentine’s Day countdown masterlist
“Mother and father do not seem to care,” Regulus states, his arms over his chest. His buttons are open just a tad too much. A tad too scandalously. The fourth button popped as if it were meant to be. You looked away with flushed cheeks. Your snow-colored skin stained with a bright flush.
”Mother and father are weird,” you fire back, tone stern.
Regulus snorts at your words. “Weird, you say? You’re so juvenile, sister. The Black’s have done this for generations.” He pats the bed beside him, “come.”
You shake your head, holding your ground. “No. Sirius said your mind is poisoned. He said you said something dirty about me.”
”So what if I did?” He counters, head tilted to the right. “You are my betrothed. Desire is only natural.”
You scowl slightly, “don’t be disgusting. Mother said-“
”Oh, shut it, will you?”
You pause as your twin brother stands, his eyes boring into yours as he approaches. You look up at him, smaller, softer, weaker. “Don’t act like a child. It’s unbecoming of a woman of your caliber. Because that is what you are now. A woman. My woman.”
You shudder as a large hand trails over your collarbone, touch gentle as it ghosts over the top of your dress. His palm engulfs your delicate breast, padded with only your thin nightgown.
“See these?” His eyes meet yours again, “you’re no child. Enough of this crying to mommy.”
You swallow, looking at the man in front of you. Looking as familiar as your reflection in the mirror. Because that is what he is. You. Only, so different now. You had almost begun to fear him. Almost.
”You should be thankful mother and father chose us to marry.” His hand lingers on your breast, eyes glancing down where your cleavage disappeared beneath silk. “Would you rather someone else? Some filthy man to paw at your sweet skin?” He squeezes the flesh tenderly, “or me? Your brother who will never dream of harming you, my sweet girl.”
His hand finally leaves your chest and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Just be good and let this happen. I’ll make sure you yearn for me.”
⟢ summary: after your parents cross the line, you and your older brother sirius find sanctuary at the potters'. but you won't let regulus be left behind . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ 4.6k
⟢ warnings: angst, past abuse from parents referenced/discussed, (spoiler) the reader has to hide from walburga briefly, please let me know if there are any other warnings i need to add
⟢ part 1 ⟡ part 2 ⟡ part 3 ⟡ part 4 ⟡ masterlist
note: apologies for the long wait! i love u all so much for being so patient with me
It was dark when you woke up, still curled up on the purple floral sheets where you had cried yourself to exhaustion.
As you stirred awake, there was a single moment of peace, where your mind was at ease, untethered from your burdens and heartache. But having that moment of serenity only made it harder when it all came crashing down on you.
All at once you remembered where you were, why you were there, why Regulus wasn't with you, and why— in a place filled with so much love— you had never felt more alone.
It made you want to scream. Or roll over and find solace in your dreams once more. It would be no use, you decided, because you'd have to face reality at some point. And the growing pit of dread in your stomach was getting harder to ignore anyway.
Still groggy from your accidental slumber, you pushed yourself up in the bed, your bones crackling under your weight.
It was hard to see anything in the little room. Someone had drawn your curtains closed while you slept. When you tried to find your way to the light switch, you nearly ended up falling flat on your face after tripping over something large obstructing your path.
Your trunk— which you could see once you switched the light on— had also been brought to your room while you were sleeping.
You looked down at yourself. Still engulfed in James' sweats, you decided a change of attire was in order and retrieved a pair of trousers and a Hogwarts sweater from your trunk.
As you took the sweater into your arms, something else from your trunk fell to the ground with a clang. You held your breath as you bent down to pick up the fallen item: your emerald bracelet. You handled the vintage jewelry with care as you plucked it from the floor.
You stepped backwards until the back of your legs touched the bed, where you sat as you cradled the bangle in your palms. The emerald-encrusted bracelet, a family heirloom, belonged to a set of three.
Along with your bracelet, there's a ring made up of a wide gold band etched with celestial carvings and a large emerald as its center stone. It belonged to Sirius, who often had his fingers decorated with rings, but never this one. You wouldn't be surprised if he had left it at Grimmauld Place, with how little he cared for it. To him, it's just another symbol of everything he stands against.
The third piece was a gold chain on which a large emerald pendant hung. It belonged to Regulus, who always wore it proudly. Not because it was an ancient heirloom that marked him as the second son of the house of Black. No, he wore it because it is one of three, just like him. He wore it because it's something he shared with you and Sirius.
You knew this because he told you himself. It was one of the many reasons that led you to believe he would never choose to stay behind when you and Sirius left that house. Not without a reason.
Finding the bracelet filled you with sharp determination. Sirius and James could doubt Regulus all they wanted, but you were not going to give up on him. And if they weren't going to help you, then you would just have to get to Regulus on your own.
You slid the bracelet onto your wrist, the cool metal settling against your skin as you rose from the bed. Restless, you began to pace around the small room. It felt reckless, maybe even insane, but the conviction gnawing at you wouldn’t let go. You had to get back to Grimmauld Place. No matter the danger, no matter the cost— you wouldn't give up on your twin.
But it's not like you could floo right into the drawing room or walk in through the front door. In a perfect world, you'd be able to talk to Regulus without alerting your parents of your return. You didn't know how you would manage that if you couldn't even come up with a way to get back into the house. You didn't even know the way back.
James or Sirius would probably come up with some creative— albeit convoluted— plan that would get you in and out safely and swiftly. You ignored the pang in your chest as you remembered that you couldn't ask them for help.
Hot with frustration, you moved to the window to let in some air. With your fingers on the latch, you paused. Looking through the glass at the back garden, an idea finally came to mind. A slightly insane, definitely convoluted, reckless idea that might just be crazy enough to work. It's not unlike one you'd have expected James to come up with. If you hadn't been actively going against his will, he might have even been proud.
You pretended to try to talk yourself out of it as you collected some stationery from your trunk. As you scribbled on the parchment, you thought to yourself about everything that could go wrong. What would James and Sirius tell you, you wondered, and you realized you're only pretending to consider not doing this for their sake. As if that would do them, or your relationships, any good.
Finished, you lifted the parchment to eye level. A letter to Regulus— dated, signed, and addressed, but otherwise blank. Now, you just needed to get it to Glory, and follow the owl across the countryside on James' broom. Nothing you couldn't handle, right?
With one hand gripping the doorknob and the other clutching both the letter and your wand, you drew a deep, steadying breath. Just as you began to turn the knob, a soft staccato of knocks on the wood stopped you cold.
On the other side of the door, James was calling your name in a hushed tone.
"Are you awake?" he asked when he was answered with nothing but silence.
He was muffled by the door that stood between you, but you could still hear the deep, burdened sigh that escaped his lips. You let your forehead rest against the cool wood in front of you, imagining him doing the same.
"Are you... are you listening? You don’t have to open the door. Just… just let me know you’re there. Please."
Despite the lack of response, James didn't leave. Instead, his voice softened, laced with a vulnerability you rarely heard.
"That’s okay. You don’t have to say anything— I just need you to hear me." His voice wavered, but he pushed through. "I... Shit, I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know how to make it better, and all I want is to make it better."
He paused, exhaling shakily. Your teeth dug into your bottom lip until it hurt, almost unable to bear hearing James speak with so much devastation in his voice.
"I know how much Regulus means to you, and I know there’s nothing I can say or do that will make this okay. Merlin, you deserve so much better than all of this. You all do."
His voice broke slightly as he continued. "And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I told Sirius everything. I was just scared for you. But I betrayed your trust. I can’t take it back, but I need you to know how deeply sorry I am."
There was another pause, and when he spoke again, his tone was softer, almost pleading. "I’m so, so sorry."
"Stop," your voice hit your ears before your brain approved the dialogue. "Stop it, please. You don't have anything to be sorry for James."
James' breath hitched in his throat, your sudden reply coming unexpectedly.
You swallowed hard as you worked up the courage to continue. "I'm sorry, James. I'm so sorry. If you could ever forgive me–"
"Nothing," James interjected almost too quickly. "Nothing you could ever do could make me not be able to forgive you. Please, open the door."
You felt a pang in your chest. If only he knew.
"I'm not going to do that," you choked out, doing everything not to break down into tears again. "I just need to... I need some time. I need to be alone."
James released another shaky breath. "I understand," he said quietly, trying to keep his voice from cracking. After a beat, he adds, "I love you."
You screwed your eyes shut tight, fighting down a sob. Such soft-spoken words from James were usually a comfort, but something ugly was twisting deep inside you, telling you that you were undeserving of his affection.
"I love you too," you whispered, your words sincere.
After a few moments, you heard James' footsteps retreat softly down the hall. You backed away from the door, letting out a breath you've been straining to hold in as you drive the heel of your palms into your eyes, willing yourself not to cry.
You took a few deep breaths until your emotions were in check. Your mind was reeling, you still needed to get out of this house, but you didn’t want to risk running into James after that.
Your eyes settled on the window in your room, and you sighed. It was less than ideal, but it was an idea.
A burst of cool air hit you as you opened the window as far as it would go. Squinting, you could see that the shed’s window was still open. Perfect.
You raised your wand, “Accio James’ broom.”
A moment passed before James’ broom began flying out of the shed window, just barely fitting through the open space. The broom hovered outside your window when it arrived.
You took a deep breath to calm your nerves, then hoisted yourself out the window and onto the broomstick.
You allowed yourself a little laugh. There was a not-so-small chance you’d have slipped and gone tumbling to the ground, and probably broken a few bones in the process, so you were happy you survived your first hurdle. Although you expected that there would be many more to come.
The next part was the easy part. Get the letter to Glory.
You flew down slowly, crossing your fingers that no one was looking out a window right now. As far as you could tell, no faces could be seen in any of them.
Thankfully, the Potter’s owl was still on his perch. You hovered before him and held up your letter, “Hi again. You think you can get this to my brother? It’s not a terribly long flight to Grimmauld Place, is it?”
Once again, owls cannot talk. Yet, you find yourself speaking to Glory as if he’d answer. Still, something about the way the owl looked at you told you it shouldn’t be a very long flight indeed.
“Alright, then,” you handed the letter over, and the owl snatched it with his beak and immediately took off.
“Well, wait for me!” you whispered-yelled, and took off yourself.
You couldn’t believe you were actually following an owl to Grimmauld Place. From the way he glanced back at you, neither could he. Glory kept looking at you, and if an owl could look perplexed, they would look like this.
You didn’t know that a person could be so cold and sweat so profusely all at once. It was freezing this high in the sky, but the reason for your violent trembling was more likely your nerves as you tried to pretend a fall from this height wouldn’t ensure your untimely death. You were actually kind of thankful that the temperature was nearly freezing your fingers to the handle of the broom.
Eventually, your familial home was in your line of sight. You began to slow down to plan how you would sneak in when you realized the owl wasn’t being so careful.
“Wait, wait,” you called quietly after him, but he either didn’t hear you or he ignored you.
The bird flew straight to the window of Regulus’ room and began pecking at the glass. You followed slowly.
Your lips parted and eyes widened when Regulus appeared in the window. His eyebrows knit together as he opened the window for the owl. He retreated into his room, but he left the window open.
Your heart felt heavy at the sight of him. He looked worn out, and his eyes looked sunken, and it was as if the past few days had aged him by years.
You slowly flew over to his open window. He didn’t notice you hovering outside of his room, and you didn’t know how to alert him of your presence without scaring him.
You decided to knock on the window as if it were a door.
Regulus’ head snapped in your direction. He was half expecting another owl, so when he saw you, he gasped and crossed the room in two strides.
“What the hell!” he hissed. “Get in, get in.” Regulus ushered you through the window, broom and all, and you dismounted once you were inside.
“You can’t be here, are you mad?! How...?” Regulus looked between you and the Potter’s owl. “You followed a bird here!?” His tone was hushed, but filled with worry and perhaps a little anger.
“I had to see you,” you explained. “I- I don’t understand what happened, Regulus. Why didn’t you come with us?”
Regulus opened his mouth but just as quickly clamped it shut, trying his best not to snap at you. His eyes studied your frame. You were still shivering, and your forehead was slick with sweat, stray hairs glued down to your forehead.
And your eyes. The emotions swimming in your eyes— the confusion, the sadness, the helplessness— the sight of it made Regulus choke on his own breath.
Your brother set aside his anger at your foolishness to stop forward and wrap his arms around you, his hand finding the back of your head to cradle you close as his other arm wrapped tightly around your shoulders.
“You can’t be here,” Regulus repeated. “They can’t find you here.”
You pulled away from the embrace to look at him. “Then let’s go. We can follow the owl back to the Potter’s. We’ll both fit on the broom.”
Regulus’ expression was unreadable as he said, “I can’t leave, Y/N.”
Frustration pumped through your veins. You didn't come all this way just for him to refuse. “Well, neither can I. Not without an explanation.”
You sat yourself on Regulus’ bed with your arms crossed, determined not to move until you got what you wanted.
Regulus' nostrils flared at your stubbornness. "I know this isn't what you wanted, but you're going to have to accept it. I'm not leaving. But you are getting back on that broom before you are caught. It isn't safe."
“That means it’s not safe for you either."
“I can handle myself,” Regulus insisted.
You frowned. You were tired of your brothers thinking they could deal with everything on their own. “You wouldn't have to if you would just come with me!”
“I can’t!” he snapped, his fist closing on the empty letter from the owl. He balled it up in frustration and tossed it into the nearby bin.
“You can’t just say that and not explain,” you seethed. “Why!? Why can’t you leave? Why- why didn’t you help Sirius after-“
You bit your lip and focused on keeping tears from welling in your eyes.
Regulus was silent, so you continued, “He said you left him there on the floor. But you wouldn’t have done that. You wouldn’t have. Please, Regulus, help me understand.”
Your words hung in the air like a heavy weight on your chest as you waited for Regulus to respond— for him to explain it all so that you could finally understand what went wrong.
Instead, he didn't even flinch when he told you, "I did. I left him there."
You knew Regulus better than anyone, but sometimes even you couldn't see past his hard exterior.
"Why?" you asked, your voice barely reaching above a whisper.
When Regulus didn't answer, you stood. Stepping up to him, you asked again, "Why? Why would you do that? He was alone, hurt, and you left him? Sirius thinks you've chosen them over us. Is that true? Is that why you did it? Is that why you're staying?"
Regulus stared at you, his face void of any emotion or reaction, even as your tears threatened to spill.
"Answer me!" you raised your voice.
Regulus' eyes went wide as he shushed you sharply. He stalked off towards the door, pressing his ear against it to listen for any movement. His body remained rigid until several seconds later, when he was sure you weren't heard.
He wouldn't be so concerned for you if he had really chosen your parents, you're sure of it.
"All you've ever done is try to protect me. Sirius too, even if he thinks he's the one who always protected us. So it just doesn't make sense..." You paused, the realization hitting you. "Unless you couldn't help Sirius, could you? Mother told you not to? She threatened you? She threatened him?"
You grabbed Regulus by the shoulder to spin him back around to face you. "If you helped Sirius she would have done worse, wouldn't she have? He would have paid for your disobedience."
His brow twitched, and that was all you needed to see.
"You need to leave," Regulus spoke clearly, but his voice was just above a whisper. There was a coldness in his tone, but you knew he only put it there to hide the truth.
"I'm right, tell me I'm right," you pleaded with him.
Regulus opened his mouth to respond, but it snapped closed in an instant. There were footsteps in the hall coming closer. Light clacking that could only belong to your mother.
Regulus wrenched you towards his bed by your arm. “Under the bed at once,” he hissed, as he slid James’ broom under there too. You managed to crawl beneath his bed as soon as his door swung open. Even Glory fled out the window before her arrival.
“Mother,” Regulus greeted her, folding his hands behind his back and straightening his spine.
Her eyes darted around the room, and his tense frame, trying to find something out of place but coming up short. “What are you doing? I heard voices.”
“Kreacher was just in, I was speaking to him," Regulus lied easily. It was one of his strongest skills.
“Kreacher!” Walburga shrieked, and you flinched at the sound. You pressed your palms flat against the hardwood beneath you, grounding yourself as the familiar fear and trepidation quickly settled in after just a few moments in her presence.
With a crack, Kreacher appeared in Regulus’ room, bowing to your mother and brother upon his arrival.
“Were you just in here? With Regulus?” she asked him, not tearing her gaze away from her son for even a second.
But Kreacher stood frozen in place where he bowed at Regulus, his height giving him a clear view of the space beneath Regulus’ bed. He was making eye contact with you.
You watched in horror as Kreacher opened his mouth, alarm in his eyes.
“Kreacher,” Regulus’ voice interrupted him in a low tone. To your mother, Regulus was scolding him for his late reply. But Kreacher knew it was an order more than anything else— Regulus was commanding his loyalty.
The house elf made eye contact with Regulus for a moment before finally giving an answer to Walburga.
“Kreacher was just in Master Regulus’ room,” the house-elf lied. He never did favor anyone like he favored Regulus, not even Walburga. “Master Regulus requested material for reading, he did. Kreacher is seeing to it, of course. Kreacher always serves the young master well, yes, always.”
“Very well, go on then,” Walburga dismissed him.
Kreacher looked at you one last time before snapping his fingers and disappearing from the room.
“Reading materials?” Walburga inquired.
“There are articles I’m looking to obtain. Articles referenced in the last issue of the Daily Prophet.”
Your mother considered the information for a moment before she finally decided she was satisfied with the answer. But before leaving, she stepped closer to Regulus. She gently laid a bony hand on the side of his face, patting his cheek.
“You’re a good boy, Regulus. My son. My heir.”
Her voice, the way she carried herself— it was as cold as ever. But there was something else, something somber. But her words struck you, and it felt like your heart stopped. That was perhaps the most tender thing she’s said to one of her children in years, and yet, hearing her speak to Regulus like that made your blood run cold.
After she left, you and Regulus remained frozen for several seconds. You had to be sure she was far away before making a move. Even a creak in the floorboards would have been too loud.
When you finally reemerged from under his bed, he hissed in a quiet whisper, “You need to go now.”
You ignored him. "She called you her heir."
"Y/N-"
"Sirius is the heir."
Regulus took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Not anymore."
You stared at Regulus expectantly. It's a wonder why he still expected you to take things for what they were when you've never let him off the hook without an explanation before.
"She burned you off of the tapestry. Both of you," Regulus explained grimly.
You're not sure how to feel about getting disowned. You slumped against one of the posts of Regulus' bed. You were the one who ran away, you didn't want to be a part of this family anymore. So why does your mother's rejection still sting?
“Now she spends hours sitting in that room, staring at the holes in the wall. She almost seems... devastated." He wasn’t saying it to garner sympathy for her but rather to comment on the peculiarity of it.
You're reminded that beneath her cruelty and coldness, she’s still a mother, your mother, and you suddenly felt very sick.
"And now you're the sole heir. And that's why you have to stay. They need to have their heir," you said in a frail voice, finally understanding.
Regulus' clenched jaw gave you all the confirmation you needed. Your parents didn't care for much, but the legacy of your family was something they certainly did care a great deal about.
Regulus sighed. "We don't give you enough credit for how smart you are. I can never hide a thing from you."
You shook your head. "It has nothing to do with smarts. You're my twin. I'll always figure you out eventually." After a beat, you added, "It's not fair."
“But it's how it has to be.”
You opened your mouth again, willing yourself to make one final protest even though you were sure now how this would end.
A loud crack cut you off. Kreacher was back— and he was not alone.
“James?” you gaped at the tall boy who was violently swinging his head around, taking in his surroundings, until his gaze settled on you.
Regulus quickly cast a Muffliato charm on his room. You were one thing—James Potter was another entirely, and he absolutely couldn't be trusted to keep his voice down.
“You’re okay,” James said, rushing to you. His hands came to rest on your arms as he inspected you, making sure it was really true. “What were you thinking coming here?”
“How did you find me?” you asked him, standing up straighter.
“Kreacher found the intruder apparating into Miss. Y/N’s bedroom,” Kreacher drawled before promptly disapparating from the room.
“I checked everywhere at home and you weren’t there and I- I just knew. How did you-?” James’ eyes landed on his broom sticking out from under Regulus’ bed. “You flew here!? You could’ve gotten yourself killed!” James fussed, cupping the side of your face.
James’ overwhelming concern for you made him forget where the two of you were— and the company you were in.
“You have to be kidding me,” Regulus muttered.
You slowly turned your head to face him, and James let his hands fall to his sides.
“Him?” Regulus asked, shooting a disdainful look at James.
“Reg-”
Regulus held a hand up, stopping you. His scrutinizing gaze settled on James. He wasn't going to argue against this, he knew it would be futile to try to tell you who was and wasn't good enough for you— even if he thought James Potter was definitely not good enough.
But at least James would be good for one thing: getting you out of here.
“You’ve seen the effects of my mother’s stinging jinx,” Regulus more so stated than asked.
“Yes,” James replied plainly, waiting to see where he was going with this.
“Mine is worse,” Regulus said— a very simple threat of what would happen if James were to hurt you.
James swallowed. “Noted. But trust me, mate, you won’t have to use it.”
Regulus squinted at him, but left the threats at that. “At least this explains your ridiculous attire,” he told you.
You looked down. You never did change out of James’ baggy clothes.
“Look, we have to get out of here. It’s not safe,” James pleaded with you.
“I know, I know,” you agreed, catching James completely off guard. He did not expect it to be that easy.
He turned to Regulus, thinking he might as well try his luck. “You’re more than welcome to come.”
You and Regulus shared a glance, but even before you saw the somber look in his eyes, you knew what his answer would be.
“He’s not coming,” you murmured, barely able to accept it even as you spoke it.
There was a flicker of something in Regulus' eyes, like something in him was more at peace with your understanding of his need to stay.
James nodded. “If you ever change your mind…” he offered, his words dying in the air as Regulus’ expression hardened.
James took hold of you and his broom, telling you to brace yourself, as he prepared to apparate you back to his house. You have never apparated yourself, you have yet to learn how, but have alongside others before. The idea of doing it again made you feel queasy.
“Wait.” Regulus’ voice halted you. He crossed the room in two strides while fishing something out of his pocket. “Don’t tell Sirius. Not any of it,” he instructed as he pressed something cold into your palm and closed your hand around it.
“What?” you asked, taken aback by the request.
“You can’t tell him why I have to stay. He'll never accept it.”
You shook your head violently. If Sirius only knew Regulus' true intentions, everything could be different.
“He hates you right now.”
“I know. And perhaps it’s better if he does.”
His words crushed you, but you couldn’t help but think he might be right. You lunged at Regulus, wrapping your arms around him one last time.
"I'll still see you at school," he reminded you, a fragile attempt at offering you comfort.
“I know,” you responded, but that did nothing to ease your sorrows.
Regulus was the first to pull away, knowing you wouldn’t be, and he handed you back over to James. “Take care of my sister, Potter,” Regulus said, even as he still looked at James with disdain.
James nodded, linking his arm with yours and clutching his broom in his other hand.
James disapparated the both of you, and you clung to the image of Regulus until your surroundings melted away.
"mother makes sounds," regulus breathes, bare pale chest rising and falling quicker than usual as he gazes up at you perched on his hips.
"I can't. you said to be quiet." you stop your bouncing and rest on top of him. he shifts beneath your weight, his cock leaking against his stomach where it lays flat. your slick lips part around his shaft, the scorching heat making his eyes flutter. you tuck short inky curls behind your ear as you look down at him, longer coils draped over your exposed breasts.
regulus's fingers twitch, aching to push your hair over your shoulders and take in the unfamiliar sight of your bare skin. the milky expanse of your collarbones to the swell of your chest and expanse of your tummy. "just... just try."
“I don’t like this game,” you huff, resuming the bouncing on his hard cock. your cheeks heat as you begin to mimic the moans of pleasure you’d heard from your mother. you glance down, watching sticky strings of slick connect you to your brother as you work on top of him.
regulus’s eyes shut, his face contorting as an unfamiliar heat pools in his lower belly. “just a little longer,” he says through gritted teeth. “we can play your game next.”
perhaps regulus did feel guilty. but, it was too late to back out now. his tip was already being deliciously squeezed by your resistant hole. his heated flesh was already stuck to your back.
he pushes in further, his eyes shut as tightly as possible as his hand is clamped over your mouth. tears fall against his hand and pooling between his thin fingers. a groan catches in his throat at the same time a pained sob leaves yours, muffled slightly by his palm. regulus panics briefly, attempting to focus past the pleasure to hear for any sign of movement in the still home.
father had warned regulus and sirius against this very act. orion was possessive, especially about you. only orion was allowed to do this. it is a fathers right to claim his daughter, he’d say. and the two sons had dutifully behaved. perhaps one day they would have their own daughter.
it wasn’t until sirius had made a passing comment that the idea of fucking you took root in his mind and grew with each day. you’re twins. she is more yours than his, sirius said. and regulus couldn’t help but agree. you are his. you are his girl. you fear father. you don’t fear regulus. you love regulus. adore him. so, regulus thought that he, too, had the right to claim you.
so, here you are, forced down underneath unfamiliar weight but the familiar resistance and pain between your legs as regulus’s body starts to react and his hips rut in and out of you. regulus hopes you can’t notice his inexperience, though he also knows that’s likely the last thing on your mind. regulus at least hopes it’s more bearable because he does feel a little guilty.
the sheltered twins actually just did something to me😵💫 probably one of the best things i’ve read lately
i’d love to hear more of your thoughts on it.. if you have any of course. just wanted to let you know that was amazing
rating: 18+. mdni.
content: twincest/incest
idea idea !!!
twin!regulus and twin!reader who did not stop showering together after they were too old to do so. they don’t know thats not socially acceptable and think its normal. now that they’re grown, their feelings during their showers went from innocent to something much more twisted. they stare at each other and take in the sight of their blatant differences. where his chest is flat, yours is adorned by supple swells, nipples perked and pebbled and calling to him. his entire body heats internally as his soapy hands grope the flesh. in your minds he’s simply helping your get clean, unaware of what he’s actually doing. reg making reader stroke his hardened length with a soapy touch, eyes fluttering as you dutifully oblige, equally enjoying the weight and throbs against your hands and the throbs of your pussy…
why am I into this my ancestors are shaking their heads
rating: 18+. mdni.
content: twincest/incest, dubcon, physical descriptions are used.
regulus hadn’t slept in your bed in ages.
it was normal for the two of you in your younger years. waking up with your arms thrown around each other, not knowing which strands of inky curls were yours and which were his or where your limbs ended and his started. but one day, regulus had turned his back to you when you wandered into his bedroom after your parents had gone to bed. you frowned and crawled in anyway, only to be shoved away. you had cried, opting to sleep on the floor beside his bed, fearful of a night of lonesome slumber. slowly, you worked your way up to sleeping in your own bed and that was that. regulus never told you why.
tonight was different. some guy had left you waiting, sitting alone in a lowly diner that you wouldn’t be caught dead in if you didn’t like the man a substantial amount. regulus held you as you weeped, his head on your head and his hands roaming up and down your back, shushing you as if soothing a child. you would’ve been annoyed if it weren’t for your broken heart.
eventually, regulus was going to have to leave and the thought had filled you with dread. you clung to him, whining and whimpering about needing him to stay. he relented to your surprise. and now here you were, your back to his chest, his arms locked around your waist and his head buried in your neck.
regulus murmured in his sleep, a habit he apparently didn’t grow out of. a mumbled string of your name tumbling from his lips, breathier and breathier. you started to think that maybe he was awake, trying to see if you too were struggling to fall asleep. but when you whispered his name, there was no response.
you closed your eyes, ignoring the persistent unintelligible murmurs, when you felt a twitch against your hips. you jolted immediately, trying to squirm away but regulus held tight. his nose ran up your neck as he slept, his now obvious erection pressed into your ass. you blushed, embarrassed at the contact despite no one but you knowing what was happening under the covers.
you didn’t stop it as regulus began to rut, his desperation surprising you. his pale hand moving up your chest, groping you in a way that was much too intentional for a sleeping man. you turned your head slightly, catching sight of regulus’s tightly shut eyes and parted lips. you turned away again as his eyes started to flutter open, his hips still moving with urgency.
“fuck,” he hissed, his hand falling from your breasts, his hips stopping their ruts. you nearly whimpered at that.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, like he had known you were awake.
you didn’t respond for a moment, face half hidden by your hair. “is that why you won’t sleep with me anymore?”
it was regulus’s turn to stay silent, embarrassed to admit what you already knew. “I… I couldn’t control it. it wasn’t… I mean, it couldn’t have been you.” his nose nudged your neck, his deep inhale contradicting his words. “you’re my sister.” his cock throbbed as he spoke the word.
you bit your lip, fighting the urge to move against him. you tilted your head, giving him more access to your neck. his tongue darted out instinctively, licking your salty skin. “my sister… my twin… we’re one and the same,” he murmured, still exhausted.
you didn’t stop him as he gripped your hips, keeping you locked in place as if you had been the one to grind against his swollen prick. he pressed a kiss to your neck, hips jerking as he savored your taste. you whimpered then, skin heated. regulus groaned deeply, grinding slowly. “I only think about you, you know,” he mumbled. “I think about you when I touch my cock. you’re so pretty… always thought you were so pretty… you belong to me in every way. my flesh, my blood… my other half.”
you shuddered as he sped up his movements, now pulling on your hips to meet his twitching cock. “I couldn’t bear to sleep with you anymore. I felt so guilty knowing I was jerking off while you slept next to me… lifting your thin little nightgowns to stare at your ass… groping you… kissing you…”
you blushed, biting your lip as he shamelessly humped your ass. he continued, “I almost couldn’t resist you as you cried. when you’d lay in the floor beside me. so close. I wanted to pull you under the covers and touch you, explore you, fuck you.”
he groaned, his hand slipping between your thighs, rubbing your clit. “fuck… your pussy is so warm. you’re so warm. you’re so perfect.”
you stayed silent, letting him part your legs. you stared up at him as he positioned himself between your legs, his cock covered by his underwear and a pair of sweats while your pussy was only concealed by your flimsy panties, the fabric sticking to your folds. regulus licked his lips before his eyes met yours. stormy gray met stormy gray, blown pupils nearly making your mirrored eyes appear black. he thrusted against your pussy, completely shameless now. you allowed him, not fighting against his hands that held your thighs apart.
his head found your neck again, his curls tickling your sensitive flesh as he humped your throbbing pussy, his sweats slowly soaking with his precum and your slick. you layed limp, arms to your sides as he took what he wanted.
content: incest/twincest. regulus and reader are twins. specific physical descriptors will be used.
a mewl tears from your throat, soft and arousing in your twin brothers ear. your arms are wrapped around regulus’s shoulders, your legs encircling his waist. the identical tone of your skin placed atop his blends perfectly, your nails the only indicator of where you begin and he ends as your vision blurs from tears of pleasure. “reggie, please…”
“mhm,” he replies, voice strained as he nods lightly, his hips moving with passion, slow and deep. “I’m trying.”
“try harder,” you whine, impatiently pulling his hips flush to yours with your legs. “want more…”
regulus huffs but obliges, thrusting a little faster. “y/n,” he grits. you feel his muscles tense above you, his dark curls mingling with yours as they fall into your face, his forehead lined with sweat. he leans down to kiss your pout. “I won’t last.”
you grumble as you kiss back. you start to give in to the pleasure again, squeezing him tightly but continue to complain. “you never last.”
regulus scoffs, thrusting harshly enough to make you gasp. “yes, I do. I just,” he pauses, leaning down to bite your cream colored throat harshly, “haven’t seen you in a while. I forgot how,” he grunts, “tight, you are.”
you meet his gaze, his identical silver eyes boring into yours. you speak, voice taut with jealousy. “hmph. sleeping with that girl again?”
regulus sighs and rolls his eyes, his hand slithering between your bodies to rub quick circles on your swollen clit. your breath hitches and you squirm, your nails digging into the lean muscles of his back. “you know I have to. we’re due to marry, you know.”
you scowl, irritated. “I know that. that doesn’t mean you have to keep ditching me for her.”
regulus looks guilty. “you know I don’t want to,” he kisses your lips despite your unwavering scowl. “she’ll get suspicious.” he smirks as he looks down at you. “she saw your hands on my cock, you jealous thing.”
your pale cheeks turn pink, a small moan leaving your lips as he thrusts into you just right. “so? what does she know? I could’ve been reaching into your pocket.”
he raises a brow, his dark curls sticking to his forehead. “you were groping me.”
you flush darker in embarrassment, pulling him down and nuzzling into his neck. “you’re my brother. my twin. you’re supposed to be mine.”
⟢ summary: after your parents cross the line, you and your older brother sirius find sanctuary at the potters'. your first day goes very poorly . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ 5.1k
⟢ warnings: there is talk about the reader's previous hostile home environment, although it's not pictured. walburga black is implied to be mentally unstable. a theme here is the lasting impact growing up in that environment has on a person: reader fears becoming like her parents, longs for a more loving environment, doesn't handle her emotions very well, and picks fights. both anger and sadness are dealt with unhealthily by different characters. if there is anything i should add here, please please let me know.
⟢ part 1 ⟡ part 2 ⟡ part 3 ⟡ part 4 ⟡ masterlist
note: well! yikes! angst! i'm not sure i like the vision but i’m trying to remind myself this is a hobby and doesn’t have to be perfect <3
“A walk?” You questioned with a raspy voice.
“Mhm,” James nodded, “Just around the yard. Think it’ll help you feel better.”
You let James lead you to the back door, hand and hand. When he opened it, you discovered that “yard” was a bit of an understatement. The Potters’ property was larger than you knew— enormous, really. Lush garden beds thrived nearest to the house, and the grassy green beyond was surely where James practiced quidditch over the summers. The large trees scattered around the outskirts of the property made you picture a younger James climbing them.
James led you into the grassy landscape, taking notice of your awestricken expression as your eyes fall on Euphemia’s garden.
“I knew you’d like it out here.”
“It’s beautiful,” you mused, stopping to admire a bed of flowers. James dipped down and plucked one from the ground.
He fit it behind your ear and winked, “Don’t tell my mum.”
You frowned, reaching up to remove the flower from your hair. You twirled it inbetween your fingers.
“Your mum must think so poorly of me now,” you muttered, staring down at the flower.
“What? Why would you say that?”
“The first thing Sirius and I did after we were invited to stay is have a screaming match in the dining room. We sure know how to make ourselves feel at home,” you laughed bitterly. “And now she knows we’re together. Didn’t even get to properly tell her. I can’t imagine what she thinks of me.”
“Hey, look at me.” James said in a stern but gentle voice. You wonder how all the Potters can sound so kind even when they’re working up to a lecture.
You peered up through your eyelashes. James sported a pretty smile, and that alone made you feel a little better.
“It’s gonna be alright,” he said, “My mum’s not one to jump to any conclusions. She trusts me, alright? And don't worry about your fight with Sirius. No one's expecting this to be easy for you. For either of you."
James continued, “Besides, we all let our emotions get the best of us sometimes, yeah? We’re human. My parents will understand.”
James could tell you over and over again that it’s okay to be angry and it’s okay to slip up, but you didn’t think any amount of it would ever make it feel okay. You wondered how he could even believe it.
It surprised you, actually, how mature and level-headed James could be. We’re human so it’s just okay if our emotions get the best of us sometimes? Who actually thinks like that?
At your house, you had to be nothing short of perfect at all times. Now that you’ve seen Fleamont and Euphemia in parent mode, you can see where James learned it all. You never had anything like that, and it was difficult to wrap your mind around it.
Especially because it wasn’t too long ago that James was one of Hogwarts’ biggest trouble makers—his pranks were the epitome of immature. Evidently, he's grown up a lot recently.
Stupidly, you felt bitter about it. Which was completely absurd, you thought. Because surely you were not jealous of your boyfriend because he learned how to regulate his emotions better than you did. Because he was growing up, maturing? And you… well you don’t know what you’re doing. You felt stuck, like you’d always be a scared little kid who needs her older brothers’ no matter how old you got.
“Maybe you’re right,” you said, not really knowing what else to say. You were compelled to change the subject, “I’m worried about Regulus.”
“I know,” James began leading you around the garden again. You dropped the flower back where it came from, not wanting to be caught red handed with a freshly murdered flower from Effie’s garden.
“We have to get him out of there,” you sighed.
James looked at you through the corner of his eye. Apprehensively, he said, “From what Sirius told me, you guys barely got out of there.”
“Yeah, so we’ll need a really good plan so that we don’t get caught.”
James turned his head to look straight at you. He looked at you like you had two heads.
“What, you want to break him out or something? You want to go back there?”
“We have to. Regulus–“
“Regulus made his choice.” James interrupted warily.
You felt your heart sink into your stomach, “Please, not you too.”
“You heard what Sirius said. Regulus was given the option, and he chose to stay behind,” James tried to reason.
James knew how much your twin meant to you, it wasn't a surprise that you'd be worried about him. But to go back to that house? That was a step too far for his comfort. The moment that Sirius admitted exactly what his mother had done to him, James knew he'd never let either of you near her again. Something must've snapped in Walburga Black— she has been teetering on the edge for years, but she has unmistakably gone from being a cruel mother to an outright unstable woman.
The though of Regulus still being around her made him sick. Even though James didn't know him that well, he still found himself caring about him. It was likely an extension of your love for Regulus manifesting in James, who cared for you so deeply that your concerns became his. But that's just it— you're the one who he really cared for. Above all else, it's you he wanted to protect.
“He did not choose to stay behind,” you raised your voice, offended that James could ever think so.
“Love...”
James didn't mean to, but he looked at you with pity in his eyes, as if he thought you were in denial.
Anger flared up in your chest when you registered his expression, “No, don’t do that. Just because Sirius said so doesn’t mean it’s true. Regulus wouldn’t just choose them over us. Sirius– he doesn't have his facts straight.”
James didn’t say anything. What could he? It sounded like you were implying that Sirius was lying and James knew Sirius wouldn't do that.
For the record, you didn't think Sirius would lie either. But he was absolutely capable of missing something.
“You don’t believe me,” your mouth hung open after your words.
“It’s not that.” James rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, “I believe you, but I believe Sirius too. And Sirius said that Regulus refused to come. Whatever the reason, that's the choice he made. I’m not going to let you put yourself in danger for a– a lost cause.”
His words stopped you in your tracks.
“A lost cause?"
You had never been so affronted by James. He might not know Regulus nearly as well as he knows you or Sirius, but the fact that he could easily tag him as a lost cause was unbelievable.
"Don’t be an idiot, James. How could you say that?”
James had kept walking for a couple more paces, so he had to turn to face you. He tried to cover the way the venom in your voice made him flinch.
“You can’t force him to leave,” he said, sounding as understanding as he could muster, but he needed to get through to you.
Phantom alarm bells were ringing in his ears, his desperation for you to hear him growing. You were stubborn and you'd do anything for your brothers, James knows this all to well. But not this. He couldn't let you do this. He wouldn't let you go back there.
“Merlin, you’re siding with Sirius!” you accused, giving in to the anger burning in your chest.
James tried to remain calm as he spoke.
“I’m not siding with anyone.”
“Yes, you are! How could I be so stupid? Of course you’d choose Sirius over me!"
James features twist in anguish, "Love–"
"This is what I get for falling for my brother’s best friend. When there's a choice, it will always be him, won’t it?” You spat, glaring at James in a way that almost knocked him off his feet.
He was completely taken aback; you two had never fought like this. He tried to take some semblance of control over the situation, “Okay, you’re angry right now, and that’s okay–“
“Oh, would you stop that!” you shouted. A small part of you hoped the sound wouldn’t travel back to the house, but a bigger part of you was consumed with a growing rage. That part didn’t seem to care.
“Stop what?” James knitted his brows.
“Being some master of emotions all of a sudden! I’m accusing you of picking Sirius over me! I’m raising my voice at you! I’m calling you names! Why won’t you fight back? Yell at me, do something!”
James took a deep breath, “I’m not going to do that.”
He sounded completely calm and collected. Somehow, that pissed you off.
“Oh, you’re so perfect, aren’t you?”
“What?” James felt like he was going crazy, unable to decipher what he could possibly be doing wrong.
“Perfect James Potter, wouldn’t hurt a fly these days! You could never–! never lose your cool, could you?” you shouted.
James gaped at you. He couldn't be mad even if we wanted to; he was just confused. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? You yourself didn’t even seem to know what you were saying, your words tumbling out awkwardly as you said things even you knew weren’t true.
It’s not like James never lost the reign on his emotions. He throws his quidditch gear around when he loses a match, he can’t control his frustration when he doesn’t do well in class, he isolates himself when he’s sad instead facing it, he does a whole lot of things that he’s not proud of.
And you’ve seen it all before, but for some reason, you’ve chosen not to remember those moments. All you can think about is how you were so angry and scared, and he was so understanding and level-headed. And how you grew up with screaming matches and unfair punishments, and he probably got to grow up with calm discussions and soft spoken apologies. And it all felt so unfair.
“Are you–? Sorry, you're mad at me because I'm not getting mad at you? I’m sorry, I guess?”
“I don’t want you to be sorry I want you to yell at me! Be mad at me, fight with me!” You felt the familiar sensation of tears welling up in your eyes.
James looked shellshocked. Truthfully, he didn’t know how to deal with you like this, he’s never seen this before. Sure, sometimes you bicker— all couples do— but this was reaching an uncharted territory.
"I'm not going to yell at you for wanting to keep your brother safe–"
"Then yell at me because you think I'm naive for thinking I can get him out of there. Fight with me because I think you're an idiot for thinking Regulus is a lost cause!"
You were trying to rile him up, James knew this, and he so badly wanted to not let if affect him. Not because it was making him angry, no, it was making him sad.
But he couldn't fight it.
And James always does the same thing when he's sad.
“I think we need to take a step back from this conversation. Why don’t we go inside?” James offered.
He sounded like he stole that line from some therapist's book on navigating conflict. It made you want to scream.
“You go inside! I’m going to keep walking.” You pushed past him, deliberately letting your shoulder collide with his as you stormed away.
James let the blow knock him back a step, too thrown off to do anything else. He listened to your receding footsteps and he wanted to be the type of boyfriend who runs after you when you’re upset. Who holds you and listens to you until you can work out the problem. Instead—
“Just stay by the house, okay?” he called over his shoulder.
“Yeah, whatever.”
A few hot angry tears slid down your face. You aggressively wiped them away and willed any more tears to dry up. You were tired of crying.
You stomped around the gardens and grass, thinking of Regulus and how he deserved better than siblings who left him behind to find refuge with a boy who wouldn't think twice about rescuing him too.
Leaving that house was something you'd always dreamed of. But you had imagined both of your brothers by your side. No one was ever supposed to be abandoned.
Sirius just didn’t understand how horrible being alone in that house was. You and Regulus had already experienced a taste of it when he went off to Hogwarts a year before you two. Not to mention, Sirius was always the strongest of you, so without him, navigating that house was a whole new terrain.
Maybe that’s what Sirius senses is different about your relationship with Regulus. Those nine months were probably the worst of your life, and Reg is who you went through them with.
And maybe that's why you were so adamant that Regulus can’t be left there alone while everyone else seems ready to abandon all hope. Your parents had never been more furious than when Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor all those years ago. You suspected that they would be worse, angrier than ever after the departure Sirius orchestrated for you and him. You couldn’t let Regulus face that alone.
Somewhere along the line, worry for Regulus took precedence over the anger that held your gentle love for James hostage. By the time you came to a large trees on the outskirts of the lawn, the anger from the previous argument had simmered.
As you plopped down in the dirt and sat against its trunk, you tried not to be annoyed that taking a step away from that conversation really worked.
You took in your surroundings to distract yourself. It was to no avail, as a nearby shed caught your eye. Through its open window, you could see James’ broom and other quidditch gear.
“You idiot,” you chastised yourself aloud. You let your head fall into your hands as a million nasty thoughts about yourself raced through your mind, the most prominent being you’re just like your mother.
It was just like her to pick fights. You couldn’t breathe in that house without her telling you that you were doing it wrong. She always found something to yell at you for.
How could I act like that, you winced as you recalled the fight you just walked away from.
Poor James, who you yelled at for not being mad at you. It really was just like her to get upset over something so irrational. You felt ill over the similarity, and you were overwhelmed with a sense of impending doom.
You couldn't let yourself be doomed to your parents' fate. You wanted to be kind, reasonable, rational. So, what wouldn't they do in this situation?
A safe assumption would be that they wouldn't feel bad, so you're already on the right track it seems.
They also wouldn't apologize.
Okay, yeah. Apologize. You could apologize.
You have to apologize.
Just go apologize.
But you just couldn’t get yourself to move. You were frozen in shame for your behavior, the only movement was the rise and fall of your chest from your labored breath.
James Potter did not like feeling sad. It was unsettling, uncomfortable, so utterly unlike him.
Whenever it happened, he tried to hide from it. He'd lock himself away somewhere before he'd dare face it head on— or admit that it's there at all.
The last time he was sad, he let himself fall asleep in the common room just so he wouldn't have to face his friends back at his dorm. And when his childhood pet died, he didn't mention it for months, only alerting his friends to his cat's passing when Peter asked how old his cat was again.
It's not that James thought there was anything wrong with being sad. He definitely didn't believe in any of that nonsense that real men don't cry. In fact, he was always the first to offer his shoulder if any of his friends were upset, back pats and let-it-all-outs at the ready.
But when it was him, when he was the one with the lump in his throat and a pit in his stomach, he couldn't handle sadness anymore. It made him feel vulnerable, and he wanted to be the strong one, the brave one. The one who lights up a room with the force of the sun and brings humor and fun into everyone's days.
So, when he couldn't be that, he'd rather be alone. He'd rather sit isolated in a dimly lit room where the darkness can't touch anyone but himself.
His bed creaked under his weight as he shifted in place, the only movement he has made in several minutes.
He was trying to be still and let his mind focus on nothing but his breathing. He was especially trying not to think of your argument.
He counted out his inhales and exhales, just as he had learned years ago in divination class.
James took divination for one year only. It wasn't for him, but one thing from that class did stick with him— the lesson on mindfulness. Something about mediation and a clear head opening your mind to frequencies you may not normally be able to comprehend.
James wasn't sure about all that, but he quite liked the calmness of the exercise they did in class that day, even if he felt a bit silly doing it.
He finds himself repeating the meditation from that class when he's down. He much prefers a clear head to one with racing thoughts that give him that choked up feeling in his throat.
He was broken out of his feeble attempt at a meditative state when there was a knock at his door.
Hope swelled in his stomach. Maybe you've come to talk. Maybe he could smooth things over with you. And then he could stop feeling like this.
He tried not to look disappointed when Sirius walked through the door.
Sirius gave James a once over as the door clicked shut behind him, "What's wrong with you?"
"Me?" James forced a chuckle, "Nothing's wrong with me."
"You're sitting at the foot of your bed, starin' at the floor, shoulders slumped," Sirius' hand swept towards James' hunched form, "I know what upset looks like, Prongs."
"I'm not upset," James insisted still, "I'm just thinking. Is being lost in thought a crime these days?"
Sirius shrugged, plopping down on the bed next to James. His legs hung over the edge as he let his back hit the sheets, his arms sprawled at his sides.
James listened as Sirius puffed out a long, exhausted breath.
"You alright?" James asked, not bothering to look back, letting his sad eyes remain fixed on the floor.
"Ah, I see. Worried about me, are you?" Sirius guessed.
James seized the opportunity to excuse his demeanor. Besides, he wanted to talk about what Sirius had said earlier anyway.
"You did have a pretty nasty spat with your sister. And then you nearly collapsed."
There's a lull in the conversation for a moment as Sirius thinks.
"Your parents fixed me right up again. Gave me some nasty potion to help with the dizziness. Tasted like sewage but 'm good as new. They're off now, by the way, picking up some herbs they want to steep and feed me for these spasms I keep having in my hands."
James winced. Spasms, a potential side effect of being under the Cruciatus Curse.
"Sirius... about what you said happened. Your mother–"
"I don't want to talk about that," Sirius spoke quietly, somberly.
After a moment, Sirius added, "I don't want to think about any of them ever again."
James felt a pang in his heart, knowing Regulus was included in 'them'. You wouldn't have stood for it if you'd heard Sirius say that.
James' mind wanders back to your earlier argument, his earlier attempts to avoid these thoughts futile now. You were so adamant that you needed to go back for Regulus, ready to dive into some sort of escape plan, and that still scared the hell out of James.
He considered telling Sirius about what you wanted to do. One on hand, he knew Sirius would be on board with keeping you the hell away from there— keeping you safe. On the other hand, it felt like tattling on you to your brother.
James thought about the betrayal written across your face earlier. How hurt you were when you suspected James was choosing to believe Sirius over you. Confiding in Sirius now would surely, surely make it worse. And James didn't want to hurt you.
And yet—
"Thing is... I have to talk to you about something. About your sister... and about Regulus."
A flinch finally broke you out of your statue-like state when a sudden and distinct fluttering sounded above you. You expected to see any mundane bird when you looked up, but there was nothing there. You leaned around the tree to try to locate the source.
Instead of any random creature of flight, it was a familiar owl. And he was not in the tree, rather next to it, in a designated perch located on the other side of the thick trunk.
"Oh. Hello," you greeted the owl. He stared at you blankly, of course.
You've met this owl before. His name was Glory. You didn't know why, but James had named him, and you supposed that it was a name that James would have thought of.
You've received countless letters from James, all delivered by Glory. There were the long ones, which you mostly received during the times you were apart. Glory was good at discretely delivering them to your window. And if James also had mail for Sirius, he knew to deliver yours first.
James was always checking up on you over the holidays, making sure you were okay and telling you stories of his own time at home that would take your mind off of whatever horrible things were going on at Grimmauld Place.
When you were together, back at Hogwarts, James still sent you little notes whenever you weren't near. He knew how much you loved receiving notes from him, so he made it a habit. He would send notes about things he saw that reminded him of you, expressions of how much he missed you even if he'd seen you mere hours prior, declarations of love that he couldn't keep inside until the next time he'd be alone with you.
Oh, your sweet boy.
"I really messed up, didn't I?" You asked Glory. You chided yourself for continuing to try to talk to an owl. Not that owls weren’t smart. In fact, they were very intelligent, especially the magical sort. Glory could understand you, but it’s not like he had the ability to respond.
You imagined that Glory would tell you that you messed up big time if he did, though.
You pushed yourself up to your feet, wiping dirt and twigs off your pants when you rose. As you walked back towards the house, you wondered if your mother ever felt sorry like this, if she ever wanted to apologize sometimes. Surely, at some point she did. James' words come back to you about how we're all human, and you want to believe that maybe there was a memory lost in your mind of her apologizing to you.
You'd have been a wide-eyed little kid at the time, snot-nosed and teary-eyed after she yelled at you for spilling milk or leaving a toy in the middle of the floor. She'd wrap her arms around you and apologize for raising her voice. Then she'd shush and coo soothingly until your tears dried up and you could show her all of your baby teeth in a wide grin.
It was unnatural, the image of her in your mind like that, but your heart burned for it to be real. As sick as it was, you still yearned for your mother's love, even if it was a thing of the past.
Maybe your house really was a poison. Because if she had ever been gentle, one way or another, Walburga Black got colder and harsher over the years. She spiraled so deep into darkness that she seemed to want to be cruel. After all, to cast the Cruciatus Curse, you do have to really want it.
Each step you took was invigorated with a new sense of determination. Apologizing to James now, owning up to your mistake, it was only the first step of doing everything in your power to never be anything like that woman.
It felt like no time passed at all by the time you arrived outside of James' door. You didn't feel ready to face him, but you raised your fist anyway. Just when knuckles were about to meet wood, you heard a muffled voice from inside.
"What do you think?" James' voice asked softly. Then, after a beat of silence, "Did you hear me?"
"Yeah, James, I heard you," Sirius said. He had that far away kind of tone in his voice he gets when he's trying to distance himself from his emotions.
"And?"
"And I'm bloody tired of talking about him!" Sirius barked. Even from the safety of the other side of the door, you flinched.
"She doesn't get it. She'll never get it because it's him," your brother continued. "If she had known he wasn't coming she probably wouldn't be here either. If it's a choice, it'll be him over me in a heartbeat. He could've done the bloody spell on me himself and she'd still choose him. Merlin, she could've done the bloody spell if he asked her to."
If felt like the wind was knocked out of you. You bit your tongue until you drew blood, fighting the urge to cry out, as if Sirius' words physically wounded you.
Rationally, you knew that Sirius was just angry, that he didn't mean it. But the rational side of your brain hasn't been winning many battles today.
You vaguely heard James tell Sirius not to say things like that as you backed away from his door until you met the wall behind you with a thump.
There was silence from inside James' room for mere seconds before the door was ripped open. Sirius stood in the doorway, James behind him. You couldn't read your brother's expression, there barely was one. How typical of him to hide behind a blank stare.
You, however, were wide eyed with a hand clamped over your mouth, leaning against the wall behind you, sure you'd collapse without its support.
Sirius began to say your name and suddenly your hand was gone and the words were tumbling from your lips.
"How could you say that?" Your voice was strained, "I wouldn't ever do that– He wouldn't ever do that!"
Sirius' eyes bore into yours but he didn't say anything. You wished you could tell what he was thinking under that stupid mask of his.
"I shouldn't have to tell you over and over again that I love you both. You are both my brothers, you both mean the world to me. It's so irrational and– and foolish to worry about a choice that I'd never–"
You cut yourself off. The irony of being so hurt by Sirius' words were not lost on you. You had only just been accusing James of choosing Sirius over yourself.
"No, that's not true," Sirius bit back, "because that choice is upon you now. So, go ahead. Let's see if you can surprise me."
"What?"
"Choose me, stay here where it's safe. Choose Regulus, go right ahead and try to be his jailbreak. But when you can't convince him to leave, when he refuses, I won't be surprised when you choose to stay there too."
Your eyes flashed to James, who looks way too shameful for you to not put two and two together. You were conflicted; feelings of regret over accusing James of choosing Sirius over you were mixing with feelings of betrayal that James had ran right to Sirius with your words.
You'd let the guilt and betrayal sink in and shred you to pieces later. You had Sirius to deal with first.
"What is wrong with you?" you hissed. "How could you be so dim? Wanting our brother to be safe does not mean I'm choosing him over you."
"Color me unsurprised!" Sirius yelled, looking smug.
Your eyes began to burn, "Fuck you, Sirius!"
James tries to interrupt, "Er, hey, maybe we should–"
"Don't you dare tell me we need to take a step back from this conversation, James!"
James' mouth clamped shut.
"Don't yell at him!" Sirius squawks.
"You want to talk about choosing one person over another? Let's talk about it. Don't pretend you haven't given up on Regulus ever since you met his shiny new replacement!"
You'd feel real shitty about saying that in front of James later; the look on his face at your words was already burned into your memory.
"Don't turn this on me!" Sirius shouted.
"You're such a hypocrite. And an imbecile for thinking I care about you any less than Regulus. Of course I care about you both the same. And you may not believe it, but Regulus cares about you too!"
"That's–"
"I don't want to hear it," you interrupted, "I'm done. Say it James."
James looked like a deer in headlights, "What?"
"Say the thing!" you shouted.
"We need to take a step back from this conversation?"
Your arms flew up, gesturing towards James as you stared Sirius down with an exasperated look on your face. Your brother scoffed and stormed down the hall, disappearing to anywhere else in the Potters' home.
For a moment it was just you and James in the hall. Your eyes met and he looked anguished and far too apologetic. You knew that you were supposed to be the apologetic one, and you felt your heart begging you to let the sorrys loose.
It was too bad that the betrayal started settling in before the guilt.
"Sirius was right before. You are a snitch."
With that, you slipped back into your room and let the door slam shut behind you.
James remained in the hall for a moment longer, not knowing who to follow. He should follow one of you.
Instead, he decided to retreat back to his bedroom.
