#i see people calling her lestrange and other people wanting her to be a rosier

[fortisfilia]

Promised Part 5 - Tom Riddle x reader

Info: This is a rewrite of a story I've posted on my old account years ago. If it sounds familiar, that might be why :)

Summary: In this story, Tom didn't grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader's sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Warnings: Arranged marriage, sickness

Word count: 2.8k

Masterpost | Masterlist | Part 4 | Part 6

Part 5 - Making believe

The news about your fight with Tom had spread across Hogwarts quicker than you had thought was possible. Three days had passed and you were sure even the teachers knew about it by now. And everyone seemed to know more about it than you did. 

There were stories about you hexing Tom in the hallways, about him threatening you there, about you almost drowning yourself in the lake, about Benjamin trying to kiss you, about you trying to kiss Benjamin. The list was endless. None of it was true and why anyone even cared was a mystery.

The way people looked at you made you angry to a degree where you had to control yourself not to smack them. Your anger was also fueled by the fact that Tom had not apologised yet. Three days. Feeling as long as three years when the whole school seemed to watch your every move while you were waiting for your future husband to make up his mind. 

Those two words alone made your blood boil. Future husband. Who certainly was the most conceited, hot-headed, mistrusting bastard on earth. Who you had agreed to marry for your sister. Who thought you would cheat on him, in this imaginary relationship, on the first chance you got. With Benjamin Hilt... Maybe he was also the daftest future husband on earth.

But nonetheless, you wondered far too often when he would finally walk up to you and apologise. You had even considered apologising to him just so you wouldn’t have to ignore him anymore. But that thought hadn’t lasted longer than a minute. He had to learn his lesson.

Tom’s friends seemed awfully aware as well. Although Avery and Lestrange stayed out of your way, some others made you feel like you were constantly observed. Almost as if they were his spies, telling him where he could go to avoid you. Tossers. 

The only person keeping you sane was Camille. She knew the truth and shut down every rumour that came to her ears. She had also tried to talk to Tom, much to your dismay. But he had ignored her completely. 

“Still no news on the fiancé front?” Camille asked when you sat with her in the courtyard. 

“Don’t call him that,” you answered. 

“Sorry,” she said but smiled. “I’m sure he’ll talk to you soon.”

“You think so? I’m not so sure. And I don’t really care.”

Camille laid her hand on your shoulder. “You don’t care, huh?”

“I don’t.”

“Oh well… You talk about it an awful lot for someone who doesn’t.”

“You started it this time,” you grinned. Changing the subject seemed appropriate. She was right. “Do you want to study together around 5? In the library?”

“Sure. I still haven’t done the homework for Charms.”

“Me neither.”

You watched the people around the courtyard. They looked comfortable. Cosy with their scarves on. Carefree, wandering around and talking to their friends. It made you wonder if you looked like them too, or if they could see how bitter you felt. How uncomfortable and tired. If your poor attempt at faking indifference was enough to deceive them. 

The bench where you sat with Tom three days ago was right next to you. You had specifically chosen not to sit there but at the one next to it. Not that anyone had a clue, not even Camille knew which exact bench it was. But it felt good to avoid it. 

One of Tom’s friends, Evan Rosier, walked by. Another spy, another rat, running back to the nest, to tell him where not to go. He locked eyes with you for a brief moment but retracted ever so quickly and went inside. 

“It’s cold,” Camille said and pulled your gaze away from the other students. She rubbed her hands together and crossed her arms. “Want to leave?”

“Just a few more minutes,” you said and took a deep breath. The cold air didn’t hurt. It was sharp and fresh, it kept you awake.

“Okay,” she answered and laid her head on your shoulder. “Look, Ben and his friends are over there.”

They sat on the ground next to the stone walls, about fifty feet away. They didn’t seem cold either. Some of them had their coats open, their scarves only hanging down loosely from their necks.

“They’re strange,” you mumbled.

“I know, right? Like outcasts. But cool ones.”

“Cool? I’m not sure about that.”

Camille laughed. “I don’t know. They seem so happy all the time. As if nothing mattered to them really.”

“If that was true, Ben would know how to mind his own business.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

You turned your head away from them, looking to your left where you heard footsteps coming your way. And indeed, someone was approaching you. The person’s shoes seemed oddly familiar and all your muscles tensed when you looked up and found out who they belonged to. Tom.

Camille noticed your movements and raised her head. Tom stopped in front of you, not saying anything, just looking from you to Camille and back to you. She nudged your waist, silently asking what to do and a small nod was enough for her to understand.

“I, um,” Camille cleared her throat. “I think I’m going to go inside. I’m freezing. I’ll see you in the library at 5.”

You said your goodbyes, watched her leave, then looked up at Tom again and waited for him to say something. But he didn’t. He just looked back at you, or through you maybe, until he finally took a seat beside you.

He sat there, staring straight ahead in silence, even though you gave him every chance to speak. The wind tousled his hair in those everlasting minutes of curiosity. What was he doing here, if he didn’t want to talk? 

People around you had noticed as well. They were looking over in turns and proceeded to whisper to each other. Like you wouldn’t notice.

“I have something for you,” Tom suddenly said and fiddled something out of the inner pocket of his coat. “My grandfather sent an owl.”

Seriously? Three days of silence and he came up to present you a letter? From Marvolo Gaunt of all people. The nerve of him.

“And?” you asked.

“And what?”

“Don’t you think you should say something first? Like an apology?”

He sighed and looked away again. As if he had known you wouldn’t let him get away with it. As if he had dreaded that moment.

“Yes,” he then said, so quietly you could hardly hear him. “I’m sorry for how I behaved. That I haven’t trusted you and that I didn’t let you speak.”

He looked like it hurt him physically to apologise. But it wasn’t enough. 

You turned towards him, watching him staring into the distance. “Now look me in the eyes and say it again.”

Tom turned his head your way, his brows furrowed, eyes looking into yours, filled with such anger, making you regret what you had said. You couldn’t tell if he would rather stand up and leave, or curse you right then and there for what you asked of him.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated nevertheless.

“Thank you,” you answered and wondered if you should comment on how long it had taken him. Better not.

Tom pointed to the letter in your hands. “Now read it.”

The parchment was old and smelled damp and mouldy.

“Tom,

I was informed by an unknown source that people at Hogwarts are doubting the authenticity of your relationship with your fiancée. 

Someone sent a letter and implied they would notify the ministry about it if we wouldn’t cancel the wedding ourselves. 

Let me remind you two, that our plan must go through. If it won’t, the little one will pay for it. Make her wear the ring if you must. And don’t mistake this for a gift, I want it back eventually. 

Improve.

Marvolo Gaunt”

Breathing felt harder all of a sudden. There was a lump in your throat that burned and stung right down into your lungs. If the ministry would doubt the validity of your relationship, they could definitely null and void the marriage before it even happened. Which would be fatal.

“Merlin’s sake,” you sighed. “Who would do that? Threaten your grandfather...”

“You don’t know?” Tom asked and looked over to the group where Ben sat. “I got a suspect.”

“Of course… And what are we going to do about it?”

Tom took the letter and folded it back together, not taking his eyes off Ben. “Let me handle him.”

“What will you do?”

“Nothing too bad,” he said. “Possibly.” 

He Put the letter back into his coat pocket and pulled something else out of it, then opened up his hand, showing off the ring Marvolo must have written about. It was a gold band, inset with a black stone. Engraved on the stone was a strange symbol - a triangle with a circle inside of it and a straight line in its centre. “Put this on,” Tom instructed. “And wear it for people to see. It should suffice as an engagement ring.”

He slipped it onto your left ring finger quickly, his fingers brushing over yours for only a moment. An unceremonial act that would have made you laugh if the situation weren’t so dire. “I’ve never seen a ring like this.”

“It’s a family heirloom from the house of Gaunt and the Peverell’s,” he explained. “Marvolo wouldn't want you to know that. It's one of a kind. And very valuable.”

“That’s why he wants it back,” you concluded.

Tom nodded.

“And how does Marvolo expect us to improve?” you asked. “We can’t change what people think about us.”

“Make them believe. It’s not that hard to fool people.”

He was right. Tom might have been a prick, but he certainly wasn’t a fool. If rumours about your fight spread so quickly, rumours about you making peace would spread even faster. 

“Hold my hand,” you said.

“What?”

“We have to make them believe. Better start right away. There are lots of people around. Maybe we can even trick Ben and his friends.”

He restrained for quite a bit, then ever so slowly reached for your hand, not looking at you. His skin was warm from being inside, almost hot against yours and he felt stiff and mechanical, as if he didn’t know how to behave or was repulsed even by this minimal contact. It was uncomfortable, having your hand lying in someone else’s, who didn’t really hold it but simply let it lay there.

You adjusted your fingers and put them right against his, which made him turn towards you. His pulse pumped softly against the tips of your fingers. It was faster than you had thought and made you smile. Tom didn’t. But he looked at you, differently.

His brows weren’t furrowed anymore, the anger from before completely washed away. His eyes were open, studying your face with a deadpan stare until he squinted.

“You’re cold,” he said and brought his other hand around the back of yours, now properly holding it with both of his.

“I’ve been here for a bit,” you told him and looked around, letting his unfamiliar warmth spread through your veins. “I think it’s working.”

“Hm?”

“The people. They’re watching.”

Tom took a glance, his fingers twitching as he did. The other students turned away one by one when his gaze neared them. Even Ben and his friends had noticed but ducked their heads now too. 

Making people believe was easier than expected.

“And he really held your hand? Wow. Even I wouldn’t have guessed that,” Camille whispered when you told her about what had happened.

“I know, me neither,” you said while opening the Charms textbook. 

“And I wasn’t there to see it. Damn it. I knew I should have peeked around a corner.”

“Gross,” you joked and looked around if anyone could hear you. 

The library was quite full, but you had found a desk at the far end, where no one would bug the two of you.

Studying with Camille was, as unbelievable as it may sound, one of the best parts of school. It brought tranquillity and effect together. Feeding your brain with new information and sharing it with one another was a sensation you got nowhere else. No matter how dry, or tricky the material was, you had always found a way to remember. You were great together. Balanced. And she brought chocolate, every time. Major plus.

It had gotten dark outside a while ago when you finished the Charms essay. Only then you noticed how tired your eyes were from the dim light. Camille had completed hers two chocolate bars ago and was waiting for you by the window. 

“Done,” you sighed. “Finally.”

“Great. Let’s go then,” she said and started packing up her things.

“I haven’t proofread.”

“Oh,” Camille nodded and teetered from one foot to another.

“But you can go. Really. You’ve already waited for so long. I’ll just read it again and then I’m off.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Somewhere you need to go?”

“The loo,” she whispered and you laughed.

“Then run!”

You rubbed your eyes and folded the parchment flat out under your hands. One more read-through and you were done. It was even quieter around you, now that Camille had left. The only things you heard were the librarian’s steps, as she tiptoed through the rows every now and then, and some quills scratching on paper from afar. It was a hypnotic silence, that made it easier to read. So easy, you didn’t even notice someone walking up to you.

The sound of the chair next to you screeching lightly over the floor was so startling, you almost knocked over your inkwell.

“Merlin’s sake,” you whispered as you screwed down the small bottle. “You can’t creep up on me like that. Almost ruined my essay.”

“Pardon me,” Tom said. “Who could have thought people had to be quiet in a library?”

You shot him a look to prevent yourself from telling him to keep his cocky jokes to himself. “What are you doing?”

He opened up a book, giving you the same look in return as if to say, what do you think people do in here. “Reading.”

“Alright then,” you said and leaned over your parchment again. 

Just a few more pages. But suddenly the words you had written didn’t make sense anymore. You had to read each sentence twice, to even understand what they meant. And you were awfully aware of your breathing. Tom made you nervous. 

It took you twice as long to read one page and the fact that you watched him from the corner of your eye every other moment didn’t help. 

Concentrate. Forget he’s even here. You had eventually found somewhat of a rhythm again, laying one paper aside, when Tom touched your hand.

You automatically jolted and looked over to him. He was still reading his book, now holding your hand firmer, more proper than earlier that day. It seemed like he wanted to finish this particular paragraph before he looked back at you. And the blank expression on his face said more than ever before. It was a mix between him waiting for you to pull away and simultaneously telling you not to dare to move. 

It was the same silence, the same tension that occurred when he had come for dinner at your house, when you were alone in the dining room with him. But yet, it felt so different.

So you held him, too. Quietly. Still staring at him. While no one spoke a word. 

Your fingers folded along the back of his hand perfectly, like they were meant to be there. 

And then, he moved. His thumb swayed back and forth across your skin, so lightly you could barely even sense it. So softly, as though he was scared it could hurt and break you. His eyes were fixated on you. He studied every breath, every flutter of your eyelashes, every muscle moving in reaction to his touch. 

And there it was. Something different in his eyes. Something more than the notorious apathy. A spark, a tiny hint of what you would call emotion. 

Something you had never seen on him. It suited him well. So you let him feast on it. For forever if he asked you to.

Masterpost | Masterlist | Part 6

#tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle fluff #tom riddle angst #tom riddle AU #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction #voldemort #voldemort x reader #hp #hp fanfiction #reader insert #fanfic #fanfiction #harry potter #imagine #imagines #fluff #angst #x reader

[regulusxblack]

A Deposition

For most of the day, Regulus sat and waited. What was originally supposed to be a 9:00 meeting quickly turned into 9:30. 10:00. 10:30. 11:00. And so on. He couldn’t help but feel that it must have been some sort of intimidation tactic. Why, he didn’t know. But he couldn’t help but feel that it was working. Finally, at 12:15, someone called him into one of the meeting rooms within the Wizengamot chambers. 

The first thing that Regulus noted was the amount of people in the room. Far more than he had been anticipating. Most of the people he had assumed were working with Dumbledore, but there were a few gasps that came from the crowd at the sight of him. Namely from his Uncle. Regulus ignored the hardened stare from Cygnus and moved to the table in front of him and sat down across from Amelia Bones. 

“Bones” he greeted simply, his expression giving away nothing. 

“Technically it’s Potter now,” she retorted, her tone entirely professional. 

“Trust me, Bones was far kinder in my book. I’d hate to start hurtling insults so early into the day, despite the Ministry’s lack of punctuality.” 

At this Amelia couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle as she rolled her eyes. “Yes, well, our apologies for that. There were a few last minute additions to the board. The Minister decided he wanted representatives of his own to oversee the hearings. We had to go through the appropriate channels to ensure that they were vetted. I trust you’ve met before?”

Regulus glanced up at the table, masking his shock as Christopher and Thorfinn were now joining the group. “Yes, Of course. Flint. Rowle.” he nodded in greeting as the pair simply nodded in return.

Amelia nodded before continuing, “So, Mr. Black, you are here because on December 18th you signed an immunity agreement with Auror Potter in exchange for information and full cooperation with the Ministry upon the death of the Dark Wizard known as Tom Riddle. Is that correct?”

“Yes, that’s correct,” Regulus nodded, decidedly ignoring Thorfinn and Christopher. 

“And you’re aware that, if the present committee feels that you do not cooperate with the agreed upon terms, you will be tried for your crimes against the Wizarding World?”

“That standard feels rather arbitrary, but sure,” he grimaced, sitting back in his desk chair. 

“I assure you that the Committee intends to be fair to you, Mr. Black,” Amelia retorted, “Now, let’s begin. You were marked with the brand known as a Dark Mark. What date did you receive this mark?”

Regulus was quiet for a moment as he thought back to the night. “July 24th, four years ago,” he sighed, “A week after my seventeenth birthday. Something that I already went into detail about with Potter and Sirius.”

“Well, we need it for our records as well.” Amelia shrugged. “And when did you first begin to associate with the Death Eaters?”

“A year or so prior. I don’t see why this is important, Bones,” Regulus replied, shaking his head. 

“We need details about how it came to be and who you were associated with,” Amelia explained flatly. “And who was it that approached you on the matter of you joining?”

Regulus grimaced, glaring at Amelia, “Rodolphus Lestrange. Like I said, I’ve already been over this before with your husband. I also told him about Pettigrew.”

“Yes, and we need more information than Rodolphus Lestrange, seeing as he’s dead. He’s not going to be incredibly useful in convicting. Just like Pettigrew. We need useful information or we’re going to have to look into other options.”

Regulus glared at her, turning his chair away so that he could look out of the nearby window. “Names? Fine, I’ll give you names. Malfoy. Rosier. Dolohov. Rookwood. Dolohov in particular worked with curses. Had a few nasty ones up his sleeve too. Last I heard, he was even working on memory modification curses.”

At that, the room fell silent save for Amelia’s notetaking before the meaning of Regulus’s words settled in. Slowly, heads couldn’t help but glance over towards where Christopher was sitting. 

“Memory Modification curses?” Christopher asked, speaking for the first time as he tilted his head towards where Regulus was sitting. “And how do you know this?”

“Dolohov wasn’t exactly a fan of mine except when it came to being his guinea pig. There’s a hidden floor beneath his restaurant. You’ll find all of the proof you need there,” Regulus shrugged, his attention turning back towards Amelia. 

“That’s…That’s good to know,” Amelia muttered, writing furiously as Regulus spoke before looking back over at him. “Are there any other names that you can give us? We’ve been given the understanding that the way these ranks worked you weren’t privy to much beyond your own line but there has to be more than these seven. Remember, it’s in your best interest to give these names up.”

Regulus was quiet, one name in particular coming to mind, although he was terrified to say it. “If I give you this, it needs to be enough.”

Sensing the severity of his words, Amelia nodded, “You give us something good to work with, and no more names.”

Regulus nodded, glancing down at the table before him. His eyes momentarily paused on Christopher and Thorfinn, the silent threat in the air only known between the three of them, before moving down the line to his uncle where they remained. 

“Bellatrix Black.” 

Amelia’s eyes widened slightly at the name, clearly not having expected Regulus to give up his own cousin. “Bellatrix Black was a member of the Death Eaters?”

Regulus nodded, “More than just a member. She was his right hand. Knew more about his plans than anyone. Knew more about him than most anyone.  Nothing happened without her knowledge of it. She’s the one that gave me the order to go to the cave where I found out about the Horcruxes.”

“That’s…That’s-” Amelia nodded, but was interrupted by the scraping of a chair as she turned her attention to where Cygnus was rising from his chair. 

“How dare you? Have you no sense of loyalty? You…Ungrateful little-” Cygnus started, reaching for his wand as he yelled at Regulus, but was almost just as quickly disarmed by James Potter. 

Regulus grimaced at the scene, but masked any emotion he felt and instead simply turned his attention back towards the window as a pair of aurors escorted his uncle from the room and Amelia excused herself momentarily to discuss something with Moody. 

A few moments later, Amelia returned to the meeting room and her chair across from where Regulus sat. “My apologies for that outburst… Had we known anything about your cousin’s involvement we would have made sure to exclude your uncle from the proceedings. In light of this news, we’ve agreed to go ahead and end the deposition as we have plenty to work with for the time being. As I’m sure has been explained to you beforehand, you may be called back to testify to specific details that arise from the trial but these records will remain sealed as agreed upon in the terms of your immunity. All that’s left now is to discuss the specifics of your parole arrangement.”

“Parole?” Regulus asked with a grimace, “I was not aware there’d be any such arrangement seeing as I have immunity.”

“While your immunity protects you from facing any jail time, given the severity of your involvement, it was agreed upon among the Auror department that some sort of parole is necessary. Which is why Auror Potter is here. He has been assigned to your case. You will report to him twice a month for wand screenings and will need his approval for any and all trips abroad until the auror department has finished any necessary proceedings for other members of the death eaters. You can discuss this in detail with him at a later date, but that is the basic idea.”

At the mere mention of James, Regulus turned his full attention towards him with a glare but didn’t dare argue with Amelia on the matter.

“I look forward to discussing such details then,” he muttered, the words sounding like they were physically painful for him to manage. 

“Good. Well then, thank you for your testimony, Mr. Black. It will definitely help our efforts in finishing the war.”

Regulus simply nodded before rising from his chair, not even sparing a second glance towards anyone in the room before he left. 

#drabble

[citrusdarling7]

jealously

summary- Tom Riddle becomes jealous of reader’s boyfriend and decides to take matters into his own hands

warnings- smut, cheating, degrading, edging, and a bit of light choking. dom! tom, sub! reader

🗡—————————————————————🗡

I’ve never been much of a morning person, but for some reason I was up early today. I knew that I had a potions essay due tomorrow, and I was behind on it. Still in my silky nightgown, I assumed no one else would be in the common room. To my surprise, Abraxas was sitting in front of the fireplace. I smiled and tip-toed over to him, wrapping my arms around his chest from behind him. He squeezed one of my hands gently, acknowledging my presence.

“Darling, why are you up? It’s barely 5 am,” he told me softly. I rolled my eyes and swiveled around the couch so I could sit down next to him.

“I should be asking you the same thing, Malfoy. Oh my God, what happened to your face?” Even in the dim lighting of the Slytherin common room, I could see the dark purple bruises around one of his eyes. I gently reached up to try and touch him, but he turned his face to the side.

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. Did you sleep well?” He tried to change the subject, but I didn’t let up.

“Brax, what the hell happened? Please tell me that the other guy looks worse,” I said while positioning myself closer to him. I gently ran a finger along his jawline in a comforting gesture. I could smell his sage wood cologne, which I absolutely adored.

“Truthfully darling, I think I’m lucky I walked away without him cursing me. He was absolutely livid after you left.”

Of course. I was such an idiot. Tom had done this to him.

Late last night, Abraxas and I were kissing in the corridor when we decided we wanted to go somewhere more private. Abraxas knows how to find the Room of Requirement, and he dragged me inside, still kissing my neck and holding onto my waist. Unfortunately for us, all of the other 6th year Slytherin boys were already there, brewing some type of illegal potion. Not only had Abraxas forgotten he was supposed to meet with them that night, but he had also exposed me to what was happening.

Although some people would believe so, I’m not naive to what goes on in this school. I know about Tom and his pursuits in dark magic. I know about their constant fights with those Gryffindors who all wear that one lion pin. But Tom seemed to believe that I had no prior knowledge of these secret meetings, and he instantly started yelling at us.

“Malfoy, you idiot! You are not supposed to bring back girls to this room, and certainly not when we’re in the middle of illicit activities!”

Rosier and Avery were still sitting by the cauldron, doing nothing to help the situation. I stepped away from Abraxas and turned towards Tom.

“Calm down, Riddle. You and your superiority complex need to learn that not everyone’s life revolves around yours,” I spat at him. Tom took a step closer to me, and I instinctively reached to pull out my wand. Before I had a chance to, I felt the back of my head being slammed against the wall, Tom’s hand gripping my throat tightly. Abraxas and Rosier both shouted for Tom to let go of me, but I just smiled. I stared him down, letting him know that I wasn’t afraid of him.

“You’re not allowed to speak to me that way,” he growled.

“I can speak to you any way I want Tommy.” His eyes looked as if he wanted to strangle me, but I saw the trace of a smile play across his lips. He abruptly let go of me and turned towards Abraxas.

“You need to keep your girlfriend under control. Get out of here.” Abraxas quickly grabbed my hand and started to pull me towards the door.

“Not you, Malfoy. Your presence is still required here.” I opened my mouth to tell him off again, but Abraxas quickly shook his head.

“Go back to the common room, darling. I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?” I reluctantly sighed, but figured that I shouldn’t piss Tom off even more. I should have known that Tom would still be angry with Abraxas.

Flashing back to present time, I turned around to look towards the boys dormitories. Abraxas could tell what I was thinking, so he gently squeezed my hand.

“Leave it alone, dearest. He was fine the rest of the night, confronting him will just make him mad again. I don’t want you to get hurt, my love.”

I’m not one to back down easily, and I constantly let my temper get the best of me. But Abraxas’ soft touch against my leg and heart-felt words relaxed me a bit.

“Alright. I won’t say anything. Have you done Slughorn’s essay yet?”

We spent the next hour or so alone in the common room, trying to hastily finish up homework. By the time that others started waking up, I was sitting in his lap, my hands in his hair as we kissed passionately.

“You two are disgusting. 20 points from Slytherin,” a cold voice said. I rolled my eyes and gave Abraxas a quick peck on the lips before sliding off of him and back onto the couch. Tom was Head Boy, and he had no problem with taking points from his own house. He had a lot of nerve as well. Almost every single night I watched him drag some girl into his room. She always left limping a few hours later, and Tom never spoke to her again.

“Put some clothes on. You’re dressed like a whore,” he spat at me. I scoffed at him, but got up to head back to my room anyways. As I slipped on my school robes and brushed out my hair, I couldn’t stop thinking about Tom.

The rest of the day went by pretty quickly. I managed to get through all of my classes without speaking a word to Tom. After watching the Slytherin quidditch team practice while gossiping with Lestrange, I sat with Rosier and Abraxas in the common room. Rosier made me play chess with him, beating me every single time. This was strange, since I considered myself an excellent chess player. I guess I was just a little distracted. Abraxas excused himself to his dorm room, saying that he had a ton of homework to do. He gave me a gentle kiss on the cheek before leaving.

“Something on your mind?” Rosier asked me. I sighed and slumped down in my chair.

“I don’t know. I guess I’m still kind of upset about what happened with Tom. Why do you guys let him treat you all so awfully?”

“It’s not as simple as that. Being friends with Riddle has advantages and disadvantages. The occasional hex or punch to the face isn’t much of a price to pay.” I scoffed and rolled my eyes.

“One of these days I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch,” I said with a grin. Rosier chuckled and patted my arm.

“Good luck with that.”

A few hours later I was lying in my bed, staring up at the ceiling. I had been trying desperately to fall asleep. But something was still on the back of my mind, and that something was preventing me from being able to relax. I let out a sigh and rolled out of bed. I slipped out of my room and quietly walked down the stairs, into the common room. I then made my way up the stairs leading to the boys dormitory. I took a deep breath before knocking on the door at the end of the hallway. He opened the door, and my nostrils were instantly filled with the smell of smoke. Tom stood inches away from me, still in his school uniform. He was holding a lit cigarette between his fingers.

“Did you need something, sweetheart?” I rolled my eyes at his stupid pet-name.

“You are absolutely insane, Riddle! You walk around this damn school like you own the place, and I’m sick of it.” He smiled and offered out his arm to me.

“If you’re going to yell at me, then you might as well do it behind closed doors,” he offered. I didn’t take his hand, but I did step inside and let him shut the door behind me. Since he was Head Boy, his room was bigger than all of ours. I could see that his window was open, probably because of the smoke. His bed had black silky sheets adorning it, and I could see all of the books on his desk were neatly stacked. His box of cigarettes was laying on his nightstand.

“So did you come here just to tell me off or did you want a smoke as well?” he taunted.

I turned around to face him again.

“I want you to stop hitting my boyfriend. And the rest of the boys. You have to learn how to respect others.” He chuckled darkly while taking a step towards me.

“Darling, that’s a pretty demanding request. My respect has to be earned.” In an attempt to look more confident, I crossed my arms across my chest.

“You’re such a child, Tom. I don’t know why you think that everyone worships you!” I shouted at him. He quickly wrapped his free hand around my neck and pushed me against the wall. He flicked his cigarette to the ground and stomped it out.

“That’s because everyone does. Everyone except you it seems.” I don’t know why Tom had this constant need to slam me up against the wall and choke me. It didn’t make me afraid of his dumbass.

Honestly, it was kind of hot. He brought his other hand up to my face and he touched my cheek softly.

“Did you and Malfoy ever finish what you started yesterday?” It took me a moment to realize that he was asking if we had fucked.

“That’s none of your business,” I snapped at him. He tightened his grip on my throat and used one of his legs to pin down mine.

“Answer my question.”

“No, I haven’t slept with him. Why do you care?” Tom brought his head down to my neck and whispered into my ear.

“Because I’m not into sloppy seconds.” Before I had a chance to mention the fact that he probably had over twenty bodies, he started kissing me roughly. I kissed him back and wrapped my leg around one of his. I let him suck on my neck as he pushed my thin nightgown up my leg and slipped one of his hands under it. He started to slowly rub circles on my thigh. He continued to suck on my neck as I tried to grind against him. He growled and used his other hand to push my waist back against the wall.

“None of that. Do you want me to touch you, darling?” he asked in a mocking tone. I nodded and he slipped his fingers into my underwear.

“Someone’s a needy little slut,” he whispered. Part of me wanted to call him a man-whore, but the part of me that valued my life kept me quiet. I felt him push two fingers inside me and I whimpered. He started to rub my clit with his thumb as he thrusted his fingers in and out of me. He started kissing my neck again as I moaned quietly. He was going incredibly slow, making me desperate for every touch. At a particularly sharp pressure, one of my legs twitched and I had to bite my lip to stop from making noise. Tom chuckled and tilted my chin towards him.

“Didn’t you come here to yell at me? Are you going to yell at me now, darling?” He started to rub me faster, which made it difficult for me to even speak.

“I hate you,” I was able to mutter. He laughed and pinched my waist roughly, making me jump. After only a few minutes, I was starting to get close to my peak. I felt my legs start to shake as I bit my lip to stifle my moans. Tom noticed this, so he stopped touching me. I frowned as he leaned down to whisper into my ear.

“Did you really think I was going to let you come that quickly?”

Before I had the chance to respond, he grabbed my legs and spun me around, pushing me onto his bed. He quickly tugged my nightgown off of me and started to take off his shirt. I tried to reach up and help him, but he used his free hand to push me back onto the bed. He quickly unbuckled his belt and kicked his pants off before getting on top of me. I felt his member pressing against my thigh. He wrapped a hand around my throat again and used the other hand to gently rub one of my hips.

“Is this what you want? Me to fuck you senseless while your boyfriend sleeps two rooms over?” I felt him rub against my clit, teasing me purposefully. I decided that I wouldn’t tell him that me and Abraxas weren’t actually dating until later.

“Tom-”

“Shut up,” he growled before thrusting into me sharply. As he rocked into me, I definitely felt a bit of pain. He was bigger than what I was used to, but I was adjusting quickly. I tried to rest my arms on his shoulders, but he didn’t like that. He pinned my hands above my head and started to attack my neck with his mouth.

“If you do that again, I’ll tie you down. Don’t test me,” he muttered. He continued to rail into me over and over, hitting me at just the right angle. In less than ten minutes I was close again. I tightly clenched the sheets and tried to grind my hips against his to alleviate some of the tension. That’s when he slipped out of me with a grin.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” he said while stroking my hair.

“Are you fucking serious?” I complained.

“Completely. Be a good girl and maybe I’ll let you finish before the night is over.”

I will admit, his self-control was pretty impressive. Most guys wouldn’t be able to handle pulling out before they had finished. But I also figured that he was just bluffing. There was no way he would be able to do this for more than twenty minutes. After 30 or so seconds of him attacking my mouth with his tongue, he thrusted into me again. This time his strokes were a bit slower and more gentle. He rubbed one of my arms lightly as he made me shiver at his touch.

“Tom, oh my God,” I moaned into his neck. I assumed he was going to tell me to shut up, but I guess he liked knowing how good he was making me feel.

“That’s right, darling. You like this?” I nodded my head as he pressed soft kisses against my jawline. I was definitely pleased with his change of pace. The slow stroked and gentle kisses made this feel a bit more like a normal thing. But of course, that didn’t last very long. Once he was done leaving hickies all over my neck, he wrapped his hand around it. He started to press himself deeper inside of me, rocking me into his bed. I whimpered as he hit a spot that made my legs twitch.

“Quiet, slut,” he demanded. I tilted my head slightly away from him, trying to stifle my moans with one of his pillows. I was panting at this point, desperately gripping onto the sheets.

“Could Malfoy make you feel this good?”

“Yeah, if I was with him I would’ve came by now,” I thought to myself. However, I shook my head in an attempt to appease him.

“That’s right. Should I let you finish now?” I nodded and he jerked my face back towards him. “Alright. Beg for it.” That actually made me laugh. There was no way I was going to give into him that easily. Tom shrugged and continued to pound into me. “Be difficult then. I don’t care either way.”

I bit down my lip to muffle a scream as my stomach flipped and my legs shook. Right when I was about to be sent over the edge, he pulled out of me again. By now, I was completely fed up with him. I tried to bring one of my hands down between my legs, but he was quicker than me. He grabbed both of my arms and roughly pinned them above my head.

“I don’t think so, dear. I want the whole hallway to hear you screaming my name,” he said while stroking my cheek tauntingly.

“Good luck with that,” I said with an eye roll.

“You’re mine now. No one gets to touch you but me,” he muttered into my ear before thrusting into me again. By now I could see finger-shaped bruises starting to form on my waist. We had been going at it for at least 35 minutes, and my body was aching for release. I was confident that he had left at least 5 or so hickies on my neck, which I was not looking forward to having to cover up tomorrow. Out of instinct, I tried to move my leg around his to adjust the angle. Tom slammed me down onto his bed roughly.

“Don’t fucking move,” he growled. He pressed one of his thumbs against my clit, making me whimper. I was so frustrated that tears had started to stream down my face. Tom gently wiped them away with his free hand.

“Are you gonna apologize for yelling at me earlier?” he asked in a snarl. I shook my head, which made him chuckle.

“That’s what I thought. If you’re gonna be like that, you clearly haven’t learned your lesson.” He started to kiss roughly at my collar, obviously trying to mark me more. After a few minutes of listening to me whine and pant, he decided to give me another chance.

“Promise me you’ll stop hanging around Malfoy,” he said softly. That kind of threw me for a loop.

“What? Why?” He nibbled on my ear lobe and thrusted into me sharply.

“You’re my little slut now. I don’t want him touching you. Promise me.” I instinctively shook my head, which only made his thrusts even harder.

“Promise me, darling. Like I said, I can go all night.” I really, really wanted to keep my mouth shut. But I was so overwhelmed, I couldn’t take much more.

“Fine. I promise. Please Tom, I-”

He bit down on my lip and thrusted into me at the perfect angle and speed.

Over-and-over again.

I moaned his name as well as a stream of profanities as waves of pleasure tore through my body. My legs were shaking so bad that he had to actually hold them down. While I was riding out my high, Tom muttered praises into my ear. I was so extremely sensitive that every touch set off fireworks against my skin.

“Take me like a good girl,” he said before roughly grabbing my throat. It took him a few minutes to finish himself off, but when he did it was so hot. He didn’t even bother to pull out. He continued to kiss me for a bit before he got up and started to walk towards his bathroom.

“Now, get the hell out of my room, whore.”

I smiled at his lovely term of endearment as I tried to quickly pull my clothing back on. I stood up quickly, and my legs gave out beneath me. Tom laughed as he put on his bathrobe.

“You’re pathetic,” he said while helping me up. Surprisingly enough, he walked me back to my dorm, smiling the entire way. Before he turned to leave he pushed a piece of hair behind my ear.

“Sleep well, darling.” I flashed him a sweet smile.

“You too, Riddle.”

#tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle smut #smut #tom riddle oneshot #oneshot #harry potter #hogwarts #slytherin #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle fanfiction #fanfic

[whorecruxriddles]

first of all your username is A+ pls can I get a story where Tom uses the reader for sex and she lets him because she’s in love with him but after he refuses to date her seriously she ends things with him only for him to realise he’s been in love with her all along and wins her back

thank youuuu, i’m pretty proud of it!

also i loved this request so much, ahhhhhh

-

It had started out with an innocent kiss when you were fourteen. Your first kiss actually, though it hadn’t been Tom’s. He still made it feel special, told you it had been special.

Now, at sixteen, that stupid kiss had evolved into this; grinding against the wall of Tom’s prefect dormitory, his tongue practically down your throat as his fingers gripped bruises into your skin for what felt like the tenth time this week.

It was exciting, you liked it but something about your rendezvous always felt...hallow. Sure, Tom was always courteous, made sure that you felt safe, taken care of. If you were in his room, he’d even let you use his shower. But you worried that there was never any emotion other than the boy’s unrelenting anger behind it.

Your entire relationship with Tom was built around sneaking around, fucking where nobody would see him with you. He never held your hand or had a proper discussion with you in front of his friends. Everytime he enticed you with the notion of a real date, it ended with you blowing him in the bathroom at the Three Broomsticks or having sex on top of the homework he’d promised to help you with.

He was using you. But you knew that. You just didn’t want to believe it. Not when every beck and call made your heart flutter so.

Tom moved from your lips to your neck, immediately going for the spot just under your ear, knowing how much you liked it. You shivered, sighing a little and when he got the reaction he wanted, he moved on. You became hyper aware of his hand moving up your body, making to feel you up. Something in your stomach suddenly felt knotted and you pushed on his chest.

“Tom, stop.” You whispered, not loud enough for him to hear at first. His hand kept trailing and you caught his wrist, “Tom, stop it.”

This time he pulled away, a look of confusion and annoyance on his face. He studied you for a split second, trying to read what was wrong.

“Are you...W-what exactly are we?”

“What are we doing?” Tom repeated, narrowing his eyes at you. He chuckled coolly, “I thought it was rather obvious?”

You shifted under his gaze, suddenly embarrassed that you had asked such a thing. No, that was just Tom trying to put that in your head. You had all the right to ask, “I was just wondering since we’ve been doing, you know, this for a while now and I-I...”

Realization hit the Slytherin, leaving a cruel smirk in it’s wake.

“Do you have feelings for me, (y/n)?”

Oh Merlin, your cheeks felt as though they were on fire and you were resisting the urge to cry. When you didn’t answer, Tom leaned down, his lips nearly touching your ear, “Love is a weakness, my silly girl. People die for love. I have no intention of dying.”

Rolling your eyes, you squirmed out of his grip, shoving him away. Grabbing your school bag and house tie off his desk, you headed for the door but now before turning on your heels to glare at him.

“Then I don’t want to be your little doll anymore, Tom. Just leave me alone.”

And with that, you left, slamming the door behind you. You strutted past two of Riddle’s goons, Avery and Lestrange, who no doubt had been trying to listen in on your make out session with Tom. Both of their mouths were open, as if they hadn’t been expecting you to leave the one and only Tom Riddle high and dry, but you simply turned your nose up at them.

You didn’t even let anyone see you cry until you were back in your own room.

-

Three weeks had past since you broke things off with Tom. You were trying your best to avoid him at all costs, but that was difficult when it seemed that everyone was always pointing him out to you. Of course, for Tom, who specialized in coldness and cruelty, ignoring you had come easier than Charms class.

You just wanted some fresh air. You didn’t want to be around other people, not even your friends, lovely as they were. They kept trying to fix everything for you, handling you like you were fragile. Well, you weren’t. It was impossible to be Tom Riddle’s fuckbunny for three years and be easily breakable.

Eventually, you’d managed to find a spot to be alone. A nice patch of leaves underneath a tree that looked out across the Black Lake. It was cozy, peaceful even, albeit not the most comfortable. But it was quiet and lonely, just what you needed.

An unexpected crunching of leaves nearly made you drop the textbook you’d been pouring over. You looked over, expecting to come face to face with a curious animal but instead found Tom sitting beside you, blankly starring at the dark water of the lake. Sighing, you set your book down and leaned back against the tree, following his gaze.

After several long minutes of silence, Tom reached over and, for the first time ever, slipped his hand into your’s. You tensed as his fingers looped through your own, resting over your knuckles. Despite the shock, you didn’t feel the need to pull away but rather the urge to resist leaning your head on his shoulder.

“I didn’t realize that it’s easier to fall asleep when there’s another person next to you.”

You didn’t respond, you didn’t even look over. Tom continued in a nonchalant, monotone voice,

“You aren’t as much of a weakness as I thought you were-”

“I’m not interested in being wooed back into being your personal mattress, Riddle.”

Now you graced him with your acknowledgement, shooting him the coldest, most piercing glare you could muster. You were certain that you saw him flinch and his eyes moved from the lake to his lap.

“I’m not trying to have sex with you, (y/n), just hear me out.” He gritted, looking over to you with a pleading expression you’d never seen before, “I...I care about you in a way that I don’t really quite understand. I like being around you, I get frustrated when I can’t see you. You make me want to do better, to be better.”

Instinctively, your hand started to mirror his grasp.

“I was going to have Rosier deliver a flower to you but then Avery made some wisecrack about me going soft for you and I just...” Tom’s hold on your hand tightened and a look of anger flashed across his face, his jaw ticking, “I hate how they talk about you. How they make comments about your body and ask me if they can have a turn with you, only for them to ridicule me for letting you spend the night.”

“Oh.” Was all you could think to say, your brain frantically trying to process all the information Tom was pouring on you. He scooted closer to you, so his knee was brushing against your’s.

“They acted as though my...affection for you somehow makes me weaker, less respectable. Truthfully, (y/n), I let myself buy into it because you...you humble me, as it were.” He explained sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, “But they were wrong, of course they’re wrong, they’re idiots. You’re the only person I’ve ever met that understands me, that talks to me without acting like I’m a child or like a blithering oof. You make me stronger and I don’t particularly care who knows it.”

So this was Tom Riddle for ‘I’m sorry’. You weren’t sure how to react. There was such a stark contrast between the Tom you’d last spoke to and the one that sat before you now. There was more humanity in this one, in the gentleness of his touch, the softness of his eyes and the sincerity of his words. There was still all the pride, but with none of the icy harshness.

“Tom, I care about you too. I just need to know that you can show me that you care about me beyond just sex. I don’t want to be used anymore.” You whispered firmly, turning more towards him. He nodded slowly, bringing the hand not holding your’s up to cup your cheek.

“Whatever you wish for, I’ll give you. Affirmations, time, the moon. Anything.”

“All I want is you, Tom.”

Without another word, he leaned down and kissed you with an unfamiliar tenderness. It wasn’t like the hundreds of hungry kisses you shared before, it was more like that very first kiss from when you were fourteen. Innocent and sweet, unsure but confident.

You weren’t entirely convinced that Tom wasn’t still trying to use you, but if he was putting up an act this good, you figured you might as well enjoy the show.

#this might be a little out of character but #im soft #fem!reader #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle

[valentineforlemonandcherry]

Light and Dark | Part 20

Summary: Your sweetheart boyfriend, James Potter, can’t seem to hide his feelings for a certain beautiful redhead - who’s not you. Meanwhile, there’s a strange Slytherin boy, Cyrille Lestrange, famed even among purebloods for his lineage and inheritance, whose silver eyes somehow seem to always find you. [Multi-Post Story] [James Potter x Reader] [Cyrille Lestrange x Reader] [Warning: Story Contains Explicit Smut.]  [Warning: Rough Sex: Spanking.] [Warning: Dom-Sub Dynamic.] I want to say explicitly that this is fantasy. Any harassing and/or non-consensual behavior is totally unacceptable in reality. And of course, in reality, loving someone should not translate into taking unpleasurable/unwanted pain from that person, or anyone else. *Finally, please do not repost or copy my work without my permission. Thank You!

❦ Click Here for Light and Dark Home Page (All Chapter Links) ❦

Cyrille’s eyes were shut tightly. Slowly, he let out a long, low breath. Then, he gathered up the courage to look down at his arm. The black tattoo of a skull, with a serpent slithering out of its mouth, looked up at him – an ugly and terrifying marker reminding him that from this moment on, Cyrille’s fate was forever sealed.

Besides him, Bellatrix hissed in his ear, “We’re so proud of you, Cyrille. I must admit, your brothers and I were worried for you for a moment there. When we heard the reports of how you raced up to Gryffindor Tower to comfort that traitor, Rosier, but…”

She reached up and slapped his cheek lightly, causing Cyrille to flinch ever so slightly, as she said, “I’m convinced that you’ve found your way back to your senses.

Cyrille could feel Bellatrix using her Occlumency on him as she whispered to him, “Haven’t you?”

“… Yes.”

“Good. That’s a dear…”

Her voice slithered away as she stepped away from him.

Cyrille lifted his eyes to see Yaxley, sitting across from him, smirking.

Cyrille’s eyes dropped back down to the cold, marble floor of Malfoy Manor. Will I truly save people like this, or am I just slowly killing myself?

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

“Welcome.” Dumbledore’s voice rang out across his office. Though his tone was as pleasant as ever, nonetheless, there was a solemnity to his demeanor tonight that you had never seen before.

You were standing in his office, alongside with a fair number of others: Emmeline, Hestia, Amelia, Alice, Frank, Marlene, Dorcas, Lily, James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter.

You had to admit, you were completely lost as to why Dumbledore would have gathered such a large number of students into his office in the dead of night. You couldn’t possibly all be in trouble, could you?

“In only two months’ time, you will all graduate,” Dumbledore said, beginning by stating the obvious. “Once you have graduated, I wonder… to what extent, in the calculations of your future, you have considered the upcoming war.”

There was a long moment of silence.

Uncertainly, Alice murmured, “War, sir?”

Dumbledore closed his eyes as he responded, “Yes. War.”

In a grave voice, he relayed, “Voldemort is on the move.”

Several students flinched when Dumbledore spoke aloud Voldemort’s name.

“The attacks we have seen on Muggle populations, the recent stripping away of rights and protections for Muggle-borns, as well as the rise in discrimination against non-human magical populations – they are all connected, you see,” Dumbledore said, nodding softly to himself. “And such attacks will only become worse if we do not stop them.”

“We?” Peter mumbled nervously.

Dumbledore’s eyes flashed open. “I have begun an organization called ‘the Order of the Phoenix.’ Members of this organization are those who have pledged their efforts to bringing down Voldemort and to protecting Muggles and Muggle-borns. I realize that this is an unfair burden to put upon all of you, young and talented as you all are, now, before me – with your lives not yet even fully in bloom. But the circumstances are too dire, and I find myself with no other option but to ask for your services, should you choose to join the Order.”

“I am sorry,” Dumbledore said quietly, looking upon each and every one of us. His gaze lingered on my face and Sirius’ face for just a touch longer than the others’. “You are too young for me to be asking you to make this choice between what is right and what is easy – and yet, here I am, asking you.” He spread open his hands humbly before us and said, “What will it be?”

Lily was the first to say, firmly and with conviction, “Yes.”

Behind her, James nodded and repeated her acceptance, “Yes, Headmaster. Of course.”

Reaching back, Lily subtly grasped James’ hand in her own. James squeezed her hand back, and they both derived comfort and strength from one another, knowing that they would be going into this together.

“All I’ve ever wanted,” Sirius chirped happily.

Dumbledore did not respond to his grin, but nonetheless, Dumbledore nodded, accepting Sirius as a member of the Order.

“Yes, Headmaster. How could I not? Especially after everything you’ve done for me,” Remus said quietly.

Peter nodded. Wrapping his arm around Remus’ shoulder (with some difficulty, as Remus was a bit taller than him), Peter added, “I’m in.”

“Thank you,” Dumbledore replied. His eyes were warm as his gaze lingered on Remus.

“Professor…” Amelia spoke slowly and thoughtfully.

“Yes, Miss Bones?”

“I agree with the values of the Order,” Amelia said, “but I’m afraid I can’t join at this moment. I think it would compromise my integrity as a member of the Wizengamot, should I be accepted, and I can’t do that in good faith…”

Dumbledore inclined his head at her, respectful of her decision.

The others, too, one by one, made their decision.

Finally, besides you, Emmeline’s voice rang out, strong and proud, as she said, “Yes, of course. I’m in.”

Her voice jolted you out of your thoughts. You realized that everyone was watching you curiously, as you were the last one to decide. You cleared your throat softly before you replied, “Yes. Count me in, Headmaster.”

Dumbledore looked upon you all once more as he said, “Thank you, all. I do not take your commitments lightly. I will be in touch upon your graduation. Look for my owl. And please, enjoy your remaining time at Hogwarts. It has been my privilege to watch you all grow up within these castle walls, and sometimes –” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled towards the different of the Marauders as he quipped “– outside of them, too.”

“Speaking of,” James said abruptly, “how come you made me Head Boy, Headmaster?”

“James,” Lily hissed at him. “You cannot ask him that.”

Dumbledore chuckled. “It was merely in the hopes of reigning you in, my boy,” he said fondly, looking down at James with twinkling eyes. “You are single-handedly the source of a large percentage of misbehavior in your year. I hoped that by assigning you to such a position, Ms. Evans would have a night off, for once, in her relentless chasing of wrongdoers such as yourself.”

Dumbledore’s eyes fell to James and Lily’s intertwined hands as he said brightly, “I rather believe I was successful on that score.”

Lily flushed a brilliant crimson, while James beamed at Dumbledore. The two of them then ensued in a silent, but furious fight, whereby Lily was trying to yank her hand out of James’ and James was refusing to let her hand go. Behind them, Alice and Marlene snickered and laughed affectionately.

“Good night. If you happen to run into Professor McGonagall or Mr. Filch, please let them know that you have my permission to return to Gryffindor Tower,” Dumbledore said to us all.

With that, we all left together. As you did, Sirius muttered, “Wouldn’t it be brilliant if we used Dumbledore’s permission to be out of bed to pull another prank, though?”

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

You gradually fell back, allowing Emmeline to walk in front of you and speak with Amelia. By the time Emmeline realized that you were missing from the group, you had already successfully made your way out of the castle, with your dark cloak wrapped around you and pulled down low enough to hide your face.

You exited the castle out of the side door. Then, you quickly made your way down the stairs to the glass boathouse attached to the side of the castle.

Opening the door, you slipped in. You closed and magically locked the door behind you.  

Then, turning, you saw him waiting for you, his silhouette turned slightly away from you and catching the thin moonlight – “Cyrille!”  You raced forward and threw your arms around him.

Turning to face you, Cyrille caught you in his arms, and embraced you back. But you could immediately feel it – the sharp tension running all across his shoulders, chests, arms. You quickly pulled your face away from his chest and looked up at him.  He was purposefully looking away from you, though his arms around you were quite tight in holding you against him. You’d seen him like this before – that day after his brother had tried to infiltrate his mind and Bellatrix had cursed him over and over again.

In a far more subdued voice, you murmured worryingly, “Cyrille…”

With some difficulty, you managed to extract your arm out from his arms, and you reached up to brush his long hair back. “What happened?” you asked him.

Cyrille didn’t reply, but he finally looked down at you. Only the inevitable, he thought to himself, but he didn’t dare say that out loud.

Instead, to you, his eyes seemed to shiver with some strange, undefinable energy. But by now, you realized what that energy was – he was trapped in his own self-hatred. Not needing any more words from him, you pushed yourself up onto your tip-toes and you pressed your lips to his. You whispered, in between soft kisses, “Come back.”

Cyrille held you tighter to him, helping press you against him so that you didn’t have to struggle to stay on tip-toe. However, it took a moment for Cyrille to actually respond to your kiss.

But you didn’t mind him taking his time. You could wait for him as long as he needed. Although you were outwardly quite impatient, you’d always been good at waiting for people when it really mattered, whether it was Emmeline’s temper or James’ high-energy clumsiness. And your patience had grown so much more since you’d met Cyrille. His patience for you had taught you, little by little, the possible joys of quietly waiting for someone you loved, even in the little moments. You now trusted yourself to be steady enough person to be there for Cyrille as he needed, and you were determined to bring him back towards the light by working away on the icy casing around his heart bit by by bit, soft kiss by soft kiss. 

So, when he didn’t respond very much to your kiss, you shifted over to kiss his chest and then, falling back on your feet, you hugged him again, wrapping your arms snugly around his chest and you buried your face against him, breathing out softly against his chest. “I love you,” you reminded him.

At your soft-hearted tactics, Cyrille finally felt himself melt a little. Quietly, he replied, “Thank you.” He was suddenly so grateful to be able to hold you like this, even if one of his arms was now forever branded with the mark that he so deeply hated and resented. And the incessant and tight hold you had on him made him feel safe, too.

Right, Cyrille thought, I’ve got to get myself back together. I should appreciate my time with Angel, and deal with my own issues later. He tried to remember how to be his usual teasing self again.

“I was thinking,” you began to tell him, but Cyrille teased you suddenly, asking you in a falsely impressed voice, “Were you now?”

You paused, offended. But then, you saw the barest hint of a smirk creeping onto Cyrille’s lips, and you found your almost-pout turn into a beaming smile.

Cyrille saw your eyes crinkle up and your cheeks lift as your beautiful lips spread into a happy smile. Cyrille couldn’t help but finally smile back and leaning down, he kissed you first this time.

“Mm,” you breathed out as you kissed him back lovingly.

“I didn’t mean to genuinely interrupt you,” Cyrille said sincerely. “I’m sorry. What were you thinking about?”

“I retract my statement. You’ll never know,” you said, not hesitating one bit in giving him a taste of his own medicine. “That’ll teach you, Cyrille Lestrange.”

“Ah, but it’s too late to change my ways now.” It was clearly intended as a joke, and yet, there was a genuine note of sadness in Cyrille’s reply.

You paused. “Cyrille?”

“Never mind, angel. Seriously, what were you going to tell me?”

“Well…” you hesitated, and then you said, “I was thinking of what to get you as your graduation present.”

Cyrille raised his eyebrow at you. “A graduation present?”

“Yes. We’re graduating soon,” you murmured. And then we’ll be on different sides, won’t we? After all, I joined Dumbledore’s Order of the Phoenix today.

You bit your lower lip, wondering if somehow you had betrayed Cyrille by joining the Order. Cyrille, too, was having a parallel set of regrets and worries, only over joining the Death Eaters. The two of you stood there, unwilling to admit to each other what had happened today, that each of you have joined your own memberships, cementing your separation into directly opposite allegiances after graduation.

Well, you thought grimly, as it really is now or never, I should really give him his ‘graduation present’ now. There’s no putting it off. Because you knew that your time together was drastically limited, and that afterwards, there might come a time where you had to fight against each other, you had made up your mind that before any of that happened, you wanted to give yourself fully to Cyrille. If this had been normal circumstances, where the two of you could be together after graduation, you would have been much more reluctant to go all out so quickly, but you knew in this moment that it could very well be now or never. So your “graduation present” to Cyrille, which was both your love letter and farewell letter all rolled up in one, was – “Me.” You slowly pulled out a long string of ribbon from your pocket and lifting it in both of your hands, you offered it to Cyrille.

Cyrille’s brow furrowed. “Angel?” he said uncertainly.

“Take me. I want to feel you inside me, Cy. I want you to make love to me, and also to – to use me,” you whispered. “You asked me if… if I’d ever let you punish me.” Unclasping your cloak so that it slipped off of your shoulders, you willingly sank down onto your knees in front of him and looking up at him with determined eyes, you presented yourself for him as you murmured, “Punish me, Cyrille.”

Cyrille’s eyes abruptly widened at the sight of you so beautifully on your knees for him – willingly, that was the key, that was what made this image so infinitely perfect to him.

Cyrille was dead still for a moment, as a familiar war broke out in his head: 

Take her. You want her that way. You dream of making her your submissive in sex. You always have.

No, she doesn’t know what it means yet.

She’s said what she wants. She said she trusts you. So, live up to that trust. You can dominate her without hurting her, while still respecting her. You would never hurt her.

Well, that’s true. I would never allow myself to actually hurt her…

But still - “Angel, are you sure?” he asked you, barely moving his lips. He wanted this so badly, had dreamed of it so often, but he was scared of hurting you, of making you feel uncomfortable in any way.

But you were not to be deterred. You nodded and said, “Yes.”

Cyrille still hesitated. “Do you know what you’re saying?” he murmured. “Do you know what you’re consenting to?”

“I want to give myself to you,” you replied. “Fully.” You reached up and put your hands on his thighs. Running your palms softly up and down his thighs, you whispered, “Please…”

Cyrille could feel himself hardening already, just from your absurdly simple tactic of touching him like this. He blew out a short breath, a bit bemused by how easily you turned him on, made him want you.

And in fact, though he hadn’t said anything about it, you did have a submissive aspect to you when the two of you were intimate. It had been coming out more and more each time you made love. Your cries had become achingly soft for him. You presented yourself well now, wearing lingerie or spreading your sweet thighs for him on the bed while putting your hands on your thighs and cocking up to look up at him with the prettiest expression on your face. You clung to him a bit more now, and last time, you’d hung onto him so tightly for support as he’d made you cum.

As with any relationship, Cyrille guessed that just as you brought out the gentleness in him, so he brought out the submissiveness in you, simply because he’d presented himself as dominant. He often thought you could have also been a dominant, had he been different, or if you’d met someone else. But with him, you were slowly but surely softening, responding to him, as he responded to you. Cyrille intended to make full use of that, but also to do it rightly – that is, with you and never for you.

Cyrille’s hands clenched into tight fists. Then, he growled in a low, rumbling voice that you had never heard before, “You have to tell me if I’m hurting you or if it doesn’t feel good anymore. You have to tell me. I’m trusting you. Can you promise me that, angel?”

“I promise,” you said sincerely.

“All right,” he finally agreed. “We’ll set some ground rules. You’ll have to tell me what you want.”

“Rules?” you said blankly.

“Yes, angel, rules,” he said dryly. “What? Did you think you could just act submissive and be immediately fucked by me?”

You blinked.

“You did,” Cyrille realized, amused. “But it’s not so simple.”

“First of all, we’ll agree to keep it to spanking, choking, and fucking, yes?” he asked you.

“What is this – an exam?” you asked indignantly.

“Answer me,” Cyrille said warningly.

You sighed. But you mumbled, “Yes.”

“And you won’t cum until I say you can,” Cyrille told you commandingly.

“No,” you protested at once. “You’re mean with that kind of stuff. You always deprive me. I’ll cum as I please.”

Cyrille’s eyes narrowed for a moment. But he was willing to negotiate with you. “Then, I’ll have to give you a little punishment if you cum without my command.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?” you wondered.

“No,” he replied quickly and confidently. “Maybe with an inexperienced dominant, it might be. But not with me. If we agreed on outright deprivation, I really wouldn’t let you cum, angel. I’m not a very forgiving dominant. But with punishment, you can cum. It’ll just be followed by something… intense afterwards.”

“Fine,” you replied impatiently. “Just don’t make me count while I’m cumming.”

Cyrille sighed. “But it’s so much fun to see you struggle to remember your numbers, princess, when you’re so beautifully fucked out…”

You crossed your arms and glared up at him.

Cyrille laughed lightly. “Fine, I won’t make you count, angel.”

“Oh, how kind of you,” you said sarcastically, rolling your eyes.

Cyrille paused, as his ingrained dominant tendencies were ringing out in his psyche. Oh, angel, if you were truly my submissive, you wouldn’t get away with being such a brat, he thought.

But he knew that you weren’t really completely a submissive, and he had no desire to treat you so unless you truly wanted it. Cyrille was simply very grateful that you were trying for him. Still, it tested him sometimes, for he felt himself slipping into his dominant mindset, but you weren’t following him by slipping into a submissive mindset. So, Cyrille compromised (with himself) and reminding himself that it would likely make you very offended and grumpy if he gave into his knee-jerk instinct of reprimanding you heavily for your sarcasm, Cyrille instead gave you a gentler version, murmuring, “You know, princess, you have a smart little mouth. And it’s going to get you in trouble.”

Sure enough, you were still instantly cross with him, even at his toned-down reprimand. “Why?” you said defiantly, lifting your brow at him. “Because I’m a woman?”

“No,” Cyrille said silkily. “Woman or man, I’d fuck you silly. And that smart mouth of yours makes it much more likely that it’s going to happen.”

You faltered a little at this.

Cyrille reached down and cupped your chin in his hand. He pulled your face up gently until you were staring up at him, though you had to strain your neck slightly and your beautiful, unruly hair tumbled down your back.

“Final point. The most important point. Listen well, angel. I’ll give you your safe word, though you can change it to whatever feels most natural to you, of course.”

“Safe word?”

“Yes. It’s the word you use to signal to me that you want me to stop immediately. And I will. I won’t touch you or if I do, it will only be to soothe you and calm you, should you use your safe word.”

“Oh…”

“Your safe word is ‘raven,’” he told you. “Say it now.”

“Raven,” you breathed out.

“Again.”

“Raven.”

“Engrave the word into your mind. I’m not kidding. I know you, princess. Your thoughts fly out of your mind as soon as I’m entering you. I’ve seen your eyes go blank, and you just moan and moan once I’m inside of you. But, with your safeword, you have to remember it under any circumstances, no matter how badly you’re crying from being spanked, or how intensely you’re cumming on my fingers, or how roughly I’m taking you, fucking you, ruining you, princess. You have to remember it throughout. Because this is all about finding and testing your limits. So, even if you forget your own name, you have to remember your safeword. Do I make myself clear?” Cyrille warned you.  

You stared up at him, a bit dazed. It always took you aback how easily he talked about sex. And the way his velvety voice made the words sound like some vision of heaven, even though he was promising to ruin you, was something else altogether. His beautiful voice, coupled with the cold and self-possessed manner in which he announced how he planned to take you, did things to your mind and your body that you weren’t quite sure of… It did, however, make you want to find out exactly how he’d make you feel if you were to find out, to go to those dark, yet heavenly, places with him.

“Tell me your word again, angel.”

You swallowed. Then you said again, in a slightly hoarse voice, “Raven…”

“Good. Good girl.” Letting go of your face, he took the ribbon still in your hands.

“Now. Put your hands together,” he told you in a quiet, dominant voice. His voice was so soft, yet it held every expectation of being unconditionally obeyed.

You watched in fascination as Cyrille expertly wrapped your wrists tight together with ribbon. His long fingers were so very graceful as they knotted the rope together, binding your hands together. There was a little bit of extra rope that he held onto.

Then, Cyrille walked over and sat down on a stack of wooden boxes against the wall of the boathouse. As he had the end of the rope in your hands, you followed him. It reminded you of that first night where he’d encountered you in the Slytherin common room, and he’d led you away into that moonlit hallway.

“Are you ready, angel?” Cyrille asked you, sternly, almost grimly.

Your mouth was so dry that you had to lick your lips before you answered, “…Yes.”

Cyrille snapped. He jerked his end of the rope hard. You were yanked forward, towards Cyrille. You stumbled slightly, until your lower stomach hit the side of his knees, knocking the breath out of you. Already waiting for you, Cyrille placed his hand on your back and pressed down firmly, folding you over his lap.

You instinctively tried to hold onto something, but as your hands were tied together, it made it very difficult to grab onto anything. You did manage to get your fingers on the edge of Cyrille’s pants and you clutched the fabric thinly between your fingers as best as you could, even though there was hardly anything to hold onto.

Cyrille paused. He ordinarily would not allow his submissive to try to hold onto him like that, but feeling your fingers sliding over his thigh before finally managing to win that sliver of fabric as a victory, he let you hold onto him.

Cyrille kept one hand pressed down on your back. However, he slowly ran his other hand over the back of your thighs. Though Cyrille was going very slow and only touching the back of your thighs, your anticipation was so keyed up that you were completely tense. With your hands bound and bent over his lap like this, there was little you could see coming. Cyrille could feel your highly strung energy coming off of you, almost in physical waves. He played off of it, very slowly grazing the back of your thighs, with his fingertips just brushing over the tops of your knee-high socks, before letting his fingers trail up your legs - and then, just when you thought he might finally touch you a bit higher up, his hand would suddenly disappear entirely.

Eventually, you felt his hand slowly push up your skirt. You held your breath as his fingertips grazed over your panties - only to disappear again. You squirmed a little on his lap, conveying your impatience.

“If you move, you won’t get anything,” Cyrille whispered harshly to you.

You paused. “Fine, but you’ve got to touch me now,” you told him, stilling but clearly waiting expectantly.

Cyrille almost rolled his eyes at you. “Angel, I know now why you’re a Gryffindor,” he said tartly, his voice breaking out of its whisper into an irritated tone. As he spoke, his hand quite firmly yanked up the back of your skirt to reveal your beautiful ass and hips to Cyrille. “You’re headstrong as all hell,” Cyrille told you, almost accusingly. “You don’t know how delicious anticipation can be. You don’t appreciate how the waiting, the strategy, the cunningness behind getting there, is part of what makes it worth it…”

“Well,” you said, annoyed as well, “I guess that’s why you’re Slytherin, Mr. Lestrange. All you know is anticipation. But where’s the gratificati -?”

Slap!

“Ow!” you cried out, as Cyrille’s hand came down hard on your ass. The stinging feeling that rose up immediately made you grit your teeth. You unintentionally bucked your hips as you felt the force of his smack run through you. “Merlin, Cyrille!” you cursed at him. “That was hard.”

“Did you enjoy it?” Cyrille asked you, now running his hand gently over where he had just spanked you to soothe you.

“No!” you told him immediately. “It hurt.”

Cyrille sighed quietly. You missed his reaction, however, as you muttered indignantly under your breath, “I mean, for fuck’s sake, if you’re going to spank me like that…”

“Angel, you had all of one spank and you’re whining already,” Cyrille said wryly, even as he did keep soothing you by pressing his cool palm gently against your ass. “Have you forgotten you asked for punishment?”

Sitting there on Cyrille’s lap, with your plush ass feeling quite tender, you felt yourself getting a bit sullen. “I hate this position,” you grumbled. “I can’t see your face at all. I mean, where’s the pleasure in it for me?”

“Your commentary is derailing this entirely,” Cyrille said, now allowing himself to roll his eyes and break the spell entirely. Shaking his head at you, he remarked, “You don’t know how to be submissive at all, do you? You don’t even know what it means.”

Well, you thought, humbling yourself, that’s true.

At this, you finally decided you needed to look at Cyrille. You lifted yourself up slightly by pushing both of your hands on his thigh. Then, you arched your back and left your head fall backwards, so that you could see Cyrille’s face, if only by looking straight up at him. Blinking softly, you murmured, “You’re right. I’ve no idea. I just want to be yours, that’s all. Teach me.”

Cyrille felt himself stiffen at seeing your vulnerable, soft expression, and hearing your voice say such beautiful words. In a voice softer than he intended, he murmured back to you, “I’m trying, angel, but you’re pushing back at me at every turn…”

“Well,” you remarked, sighing a little as you sank back down on his lap. You shifted your weight to your right side and curled up your torso just a little, so that more of you fit onto Cyrille’s lap, and your cheek was pressed against Cyrille’s hip. “I never said I’d make it easy,” you murmured to him, smiling a little. “I’ve got to have my fun, too, you know.”

“You’re so pleased with yourself, aren’t you?” Cyrille murmured dryly. “Merlin. I knew since I had you up against that bookstore in the library that you were going to be a brat.”

You scoffed at him loudly. “You came onto me so strong with that ridiculous line of yours, Cyrille.”

“Oh, really?” Cyrille asked you, deeply amused. “I rather thought you liked it. You were shivering all over and so willing by the time I propped your knee up on the bookshelf.”

“Back then, did you want to spank me?” you wondered.

“Oh, princess,” Cyrille whispering, running his fingertip along your panty line, “you have no idea.”

Slap!

“Nngh…” Pressing your face against his hip and thigh, you whimpered as you felt the stinging sensation rise again, worse this time – for he had smacked you in the same spot.

Slap! He smacked your lovely little ass again, this time hard enough to jolt you forward.

“Ah!” Your mouth fell open and you suddenly trembled all over his lap. “Cy- Cyrille… It tingles already…”

Cyrille glanced down at you, and he saw you burrowing your face against his hip and quivering on his lap. Then, he looked down to see your ass, one cheek flushing bright pink, or at least – the part of your ass he could see past your panty line. He also noticed that there was a small wet spot growing on your panties, right on the thin strip of fabric covering your little slit.

She’s getting wet. Her sweet little pussy is getting wet already. Does she like this, after all? But she doesn’t seem to like pain at all. And yet, she has told me that she’s dreamed of this, and on some level, she’s physically responding…

Cyrille knew it was important to take it slow and ask for your consent at every step of the way, but if you really were turned on by this, it was a complete dream come true for Cyrille. To be physically in control of testing your limits… The possibility that you might enjoy this made Cyrille’s cock stiffen in his pants.

I should take it slow, Cyrille thought, tease out what she likes and what she doesn’t like. If we can find out together what she can take, what she does like, then I can take her harder, knowing where her limits are. Then, I’d be able to push her right up to her limit, every time, make her lose her mind with cumming, my angel…

Just then, you twitched in his lap and you murmured, “Why’d you stop? Did I do something wrong again?”

“No,” Cyrille reassured you, breathing out slowly, and running his hand greedily over your perky little ass. “You did everything right with the last spank, angel. You take it so well, you know, when you’re not testing my patience by being a brat.”

“Does that mean we can negotiate a little?” you asked him, turning your face so that your cheek was pressed against his thigh and you could sort-of look up at him, as your torso curled up on his lap.

He looked down at you. His long upper lashes grazed the bottom line of his lashes, casting little moon crescent shadows just below his eyes. Meanwhile, his silver eyes flashed down at you in a strange mixture of affection and authority. “Well, we can always negotiate,” he replied. “You know that. It’s just disobedience that I can’t condone, especially when this entire set-up is supposed to be about punishment, per your demand, angel.”

He gave you a light, playful spank, and you smiled, blushing a little. You had had dreams about this, though, actually, in yours dreams, he was a bit more… full-on, a bit more dominant. But dreams were dreams, and you knew you wouldn’t enjoy it in real life unless you both trusted each other and worked up to it.

However, trying out your dreams wasn’t the only reason you were doing this tonight. There was something a bit more personal, even, than your dreams, and that was that you had a streak of competitiveness in you. That part of you wanted, so badly, for Cyrille to take you harder than he’d taken any of his lovers. You never voiced this part of you because you thought that it was wrong to be competitive about something like this. What did it matter what he had once done with his other lovers, as long as the two of you were happy? And yet, you weren’t a Gryffindor for nothing, you wanted to be his best, whatever that meant, and when the two of you separated, and perhaps Cyrille had to return to that world of manipulation – sexual and otherwise, you wanted him to remember you and find that none of his other lovers would ever be able to give themselves up to him as much as you could. You wanted to show him that just because the two of you cared about each other, didn’t mean you couldn’t surpass your limits together physically, too. That was why you got offended when he called you ‘brat’ or ‘princess.’ You didn’t dislike the nickname, but you were afraid he might be right.

So, you wanted him to take you rough and hard for once. You thought you could take it, too (after all, hadn’t you been a good girl for him when you’d had that quick, intense session in the woods behind Hogsmeade?), as long as it was interspersed by little sessions of what was familiar to you – affection, care, and gentle touches. If there was a bit of sweetness from time to time, you weren’t opposed to some rough spanking or rough fucking, not if it was Cyrille… But how could you tell him that?

“You’ve gone again,” Cyrille murmured knowingly. “What are you thinking, angel?”

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked you, and his hand, which had just been sliding under your panty lines to grope your bare ass cheek, paused with his only his fingertips underneath your pantyline.

“No,” you murmured. “I just…”

“You just what?”

You paused, trying to figure out how to ask for what you wanted.

Cyrille reached down with his other hand and slid his hand under your cheek, which was pressed against his thigh. “Tell me,” he said calmly. “You already know I’ll give it to you.”

“You will?”

“Yes,” Cyrille replied steadily.

You looked up at his beautiful silver eyes. There was still quite a bit of moodiness and darkness in them today, but you recognized his love, too.

I wonder what happened to him, you thought sadly, before you reminded yourself to focus.

“How about, then… How about after every round of spanking you – you, you know, touch me a little – nicely?” you suggested. “Or you give me a little kiss from time to time? Something… Something like that.”

You blushed slightly as you tried to explain, “I don’t want you gentle on the spanks, necessarily… I just want some gentleness in-between the roughness, if that makes sense.”

“Oh, angel, however much you want,” Cyrille promised you, and true to his word, he reached down and grasping your waist in his hands, he lifted you slightly. You immediately knew what he intended to do, and you propped yourself up as best as you could on your elbows and looked up. Simultaneously, he leaned down, and he kissed you softly on your mouth before kissing you all over your face.

“Thank you,” you murmured happily, as you received his kisses.

“Good girl,” he told you lovingly. “Now, lay down again.”

You did lay back now, this time properly, with your stomach on his lap, your elbows pressed against the outside of his lap, and your hands clasped together. Cyrille gently pushed you up a little on his lap, lifting your ass higher and giving him a better angle to spank you at.

Then, he pushed your skirt back up, so that the back of it was turned inside-out and the hem was flipped up onto your waist. Cyrille lifted his hand. Though you couldn’t see him, you could sense his movement, and you squeezed your eyes shut. He gave you five sharp slaps in succession, trading off on what side of your ass he was hitting you.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

You were biting down on your lower lip quite hard, but you couldn’t help except cry out, “Ow!” at the last smack.

Before you could fully register the pain, however, Cyrille, leaning down, pushed your hair to side and covered the back of your neck with kisses. Also, his hand slipped between your legs to rub your pussy through your panties, quickly creating a wave of pleasure to negate and chase away any lingering pain from the slap.

You paused, blinking hard as the crashing together of so many conflicting sensations of having been touched harshly, then gently washed over you all at once. A dull, yet clearly present sensation of stinging merged somehow with soft, slick pleasure.

However, because Cyrille kept rubbing your pussy, intent on making you feel sweet pleasure, you naturally focused on that sensation. And before you knew it, you heard yourself murmur to him as a question, “Fingers?”

Cyrille stopped kissing your neck and instead straightened up to look down at you. “What?” he said, slowing down in his touching you.

No, you thought, don’t slow down. You made to reach down to press his hand against you harder, but your wrists were still bound together, preventing you from doing that. You whined softly.

“Touch me,” you breathed out, and it came out as a demand. “Your fingers, fuck me, please.” You shifted your weight forward as you brought your ass up for him and you shifted your hips from side to side in the air, hoping he’d give you his fingers in your warm and wanting pussyhole. You needed to be filled. You just needed it. And if your bloody hands weren’t tied together, you’d be reaching down to touch yourself…

“Fuck me,” you told him again. “I want it. Want your fingers inside me.”

Cyrille gave you a gentle pat on your rump, but otherwise did not touch you at all. That’ll teach her to give me orders, he thought. But far from annoyed, he loved you like this. You were so adorable, begging and moaning and waving your pretty little ass in the air, trying to get him to touch you.

“Cy, come on,” you moaned, starting to get quite frustrated with him. “I’m – I’m – I’m so wet,” you stuttered out. “I need to be filled. My pussy – it needs your fingers now.”

Cyrille smiled at the sweet neediness just flowing out of you. He knew he was being a bit mean by denying you, but it was damn near impossible not to want to draw out this side of you more. So, Cyrille couldn’t help but tease you, whispering to you, “You’re being greedy, you know. You don’t need my fingers in you. I’d say you’re already quite satisfied.”

“But I’m wet,” you pushed back, implying, of course, that you were ready to be filled.

But Cyrille shook his head at you slowly, even as he agreed, “Well, yes, you are already all wet and dripping on your own, angel. I mean, fuck, look at you. But that’s what I mean. You don’t need more. This is more than enough to make you wet and dripping. Why should I give you more?””

“No,” you moaned. “It’s not enough. I want your fingers in me, Cyrille, please.”

He’s so mean, you complained in your head. He knows exactly what I want, and how bad I want it, and he won’t give it to me.

“You promised,” you reminded him. “You said you wouldn’t do this – that you would let me cum.”

“No,” Cyrille reminded you. “If you remember, angel, I said I wouldn’t make you count.”

You growled a little.

Cyrille laughed. “What a cute sound, princess.” He gave you another pat on your rump.

You tried to touch yourself, hanging your head down and reaching under yourself to slips your hands down, but Cyrille was quick to yank at the ribbon still wrapped in his other hand, and your hands were jerked back up roughly.

You moaned outright, frustrated.

“You’re quite needy today, princess. Are you playing a little game with yourself, trying to see how fast I’ll give into your whims today?” Cyrille asked you. “You know, I rather think this whole ‘submissive’ act is your cover-up, and you’re secretly the dominant in our relationship. Don’t you think? I wouldn’t put it past you to lull me into being your submissive. As dominant as I am, you could turn me into whatever you wanted, and I reckon you know that. After all, if you’ve noticed at all, you are the one calling all the shots, angel – how to spank you, when to touch you, when to make you cum. So tell me, are you trying to trick me, princess?” As he spoke, Cyrille teasingly ran his fingertips over your panties, just above the thin strip of fabric covering your sex. When his fingertips pressed lightly against your puffy pussy lips, you inhaled suddenly.

“No, I’m not trying to trick you. I just – I – I’m aching,” you confessed, trying to convey the deep want inside of you, how you wanted to feel your lover’s long, elegant fingers deep inside of your wet pussy, reminding you that you were his girl. Just the thought of it made you throb wetly, and your pussy clenched around thin air before releasing a delicate stream of sweet cum to soak your panties. “Uhn…”

“Fuck,” Cyrille cursed again, feeling the wetness soaking through, little by little, in your panties. “Look how messy you are, angel. You might even like this little foreplay of ours more than actually taking cock. Like I said, I don’t think you really want my fingers inside you.”

“No,” you protested. “No, no, no, want you. Want you inside me. Cy, please…” you moaned, whining a little. You immediately clasped your lips when you heard your voice slip into whining. You didn’t want to be a “brat,” as he put it.

But Cyrille had heard you fall into your whines already, and his eyes flashed at knowing that you were slowly starting to lose control of yourself. But she’s not there yet, he told himself. Cruelly, he told you, “Well, angel, it’s not enough. You need to ache more.”

“No -” you began again, earning you a sharp slap from Cyrille. Smack!

“Ah!” you gasped at his sudden smack.

“Listen to me,” he told you sternly. “You need to ache even more for me. To deserve it physically, you have to crave it mentally first. You have to want it more than anything. Want me. Want my fingers. Want to cum for me, and only me,” Cyrille said, his voice dropping into a low, but quite intense, murmur towards the end. “Do you understand, princess? When you get to that point, then I’ll give you what you want. You’ll cum and cum and cum for me, until you can never cum for another man again. So, tell me, angel, do you want it? Do you want me?”

You shivered when you heard his voice drop, and when he promised to make you cum endlessly – but only for him, you suddenly breathed out, “Oh…” as you felt a rush of wetness suddenly leave you, pooling between your thighs to soak your panties through.

Cyrille laughed lightly. “Oh, angel, you came. Just from my words.”

“Well,” he said appreciatively, gently rubbing you through your wet panties, making you feel your own drenched panties pushing up against your cunt to create a soft, if not slick, friction against your clit and pussyhole, “you’re the only lover of mine who ever does that, so I’ll forgive you for all your other slip-ups.”

“I - I haven’t slipped up,” you said indignantly. “I just – nngh, ah,” you cut off and bowed your head as you felt Cyrille’s fingers become slightly more aggressive, pushing your panties back into you just a little, and feeling his fingers rub up at your opening now.

“Does that feel good?” he asked you softly.

“Y-Yes…”

“Good. Keep getting wet, angel. Be a good girl for me, now.”

You melted at his soft touch and at his words.

You felt yourself nod. Yes, I do want to be a good girl for you – your best.

As he softly pleasured you with one hand, with the other, Cyrille pushed up the back of your sweater and shirt. He also undid the clasp of your bra, though he didn’t take your bra off of you. It merely slipped forward, the straps staying on your shoulders and the cups hanging loosely in front of your breasts. Your lovely bare back revealed to him, Cyrille saw your shoulder blades straining as you shivered slightly on his lap, and he knew they were only straining like that because you couldn’t quite use of your hands to stabilize yourself. He smirked a little when he realized that.

Cyrille could also just see the undersides of your breasts, so very soft and lovely, though your nipples and the top of your breasts were still covered up by your hanging bra. He sighed a little impatiently, wishing you were completely bare for him. He wanted to see you bare for him, yes, your soft little body all laid out for him to pleasure and possess for the night.

Cyrille paused, thinking to himself. Hm, I wonder if I spank her, will I get a glimpse of those soft, puffy, pink nipples of hers?

Cyrille abruptly spanked you. Slap!

You gasped at the unexpected smack, and sure enough, you jolted forward. The sudden movement of your shifting forward made your sweater and shirt slip further forward, so that your chin and cheeks were suddenly surrounded by soft cashmere, and your bra, too, swayed forward with you, so that Cyrille glimpsed a flash of your lovely breasts. Pleased, Cyrille smirked, for you’d reacted exactly as he expected. He reached down and slipping his hand under you and sliding between your bra and breasts, he groped your breasts greedily, pushing his palm against them lovingly before fingering your nipples, squeezing the puffiness hard between his fingers, while his other hand was still playing with your wet pussy, rubbing you through your panties.

“M-Mm,” you stuttered out softly, feeling his hands all over you. This kind of touch from Cyrille made you want to be a good girl for him – a very good girl for him.

Cyrille felt you getting steadily wetter, pooling slowly but surely between your legs, meaning that your pussy was closer and closer to being ready to be roughly fucked. He smirked again, very much pleased at the situation.

But, he thought, I’m spoiling her, aren’t I? Letting her have my hands like this, all over her already?

Tsk, he berated himself, Angel makes you so soft. You speak to her and hold yourself out to be this stern dominant, and then you’re like putty in her hands.

“Angel,” he said, “would you consent to another spanking?”

“Yes. Another round, and then a kiss?” you mumbled. You could still feel the soft sting of his last spanking on your ass. However, you had noticed that although the second spank hurt considerably more than the first since your skin was already stinging, the last few spanks didn’t hurt much and just felt like… a sensation – first, the slap, then the soft tingling all over your bum. It wasn’t unpleasant at all.

“Deal,” Cyrille replied. For a moment, Cyrille plunged his hand into your panties and pressed his palm against you. You started to moan again, thinking he meant to keep touching your pussy even as he spanked you – but no, sadly, his hand was already gone. Having wet his hand with your cum, without hesitating, Cyrille spanked you hard again. Smack! Smack! Smack!

Nope, spoke too soon! You told yourself as his smacks landed on you again, and the heat flared up all over your ass now.

Smack! Smack! Then, there was a particularly sharp, hard slap!

“Ah!” Your knees folded as your feet shot up from the ground. Cyrille carelessly threw them back down, not let you interfere with his taking your ass and marking it as his with hard smacks.

You squirmed on his lap. Cyrille was quick to pin you down and give you the remaining spanks. Loud, sharp sounds of you being spanked rang out loudly as your cum on his palm made his hand stick to your skin with each slap.  

Slap! “Ah!”

Slap! “C-Cy!”

Slap! “Ah!”

Crying out, you were shivering all over. Cyrille’s cock was rock hard now, because it was so delicious to see you shivering like that, and he could feel your little body in his lap, squirming against him but also pressing down on his lap to find comfort.

Oh, angel, Cyrille moaned in his head. You’re so perfect.

Per your promise, but also simply because he wanted to, Cyrille made you turn over in his lap so that you were facing him and your back was resting on his lap now. He brought your legs up so that your feet were on the edge of the boxes he was sitting on. Sliding his hand under your head to give you support, he leaned down and kissed you passionately, sucking on your lips gently and lovingly, giving you your kiss just as he’d promised you.

“Mm… Hah… Ah…” You breathed out against his mouth, panting a little as your ass was still tingling quite a lot from having received your spanking. Your hands, still bound together, rested on your tummy, with your elbows tucked into your sides.

You felt Cyrille start to press his hand gently into your tummy to reassure you that he was here with you, and to make you feel safe, but you managed to catch his fingers between yours and you held onto his fingertips between your hands, keeping his hand just above your tummy as he kissed you.

“Are you all right?” Cyrille asked you, finally pulling away just a little.

“Yes,” you replied honestly. “I can see why people get into this.”

“You can?”

“Yeah,” you said, nodding your head seriously.

Cyrille found it endearing how proud of yourself you seemed to be. Of course, he wasn’t aware of your secret mission to be his best lover.

“So, you don’t mind the spanking, you just want to be spoiled throughout,” Cyrille realized, smiling a little at how happy you seemed.

“Well… something like that,” you admitted, blushing a little.

“Princess,” Cyrille whispered accusingly. “You’re so spoiled…”

He tried to kiss you again, but you feigned offence and turned your head away, making him miss.

Cyrille sighed, but he kissed your cheek anyways. You giggled, not really angry with him, and turning your head back to face him, you lifted your head slightly to kiss him first. Then, falling back after sharing a sweet kiss, you murmured, “Cyrille?”

“Yes, angel?”

“Is my ass pink?” you wondered.

“Does it feel like it is?” Cyrille asked you, already knowing how you would answer.

“Yes. It’s all tingly.”

Cyrille laughed lightly. “Lift your legs for me, princess.”

You gently lifted your legs up. Cyrille reached down and pulled your panties down to your thighs and helped lift you a little further up, so that even though you were lying in your lap, your legs were now in the air and Cyrille could just make out the roundness of your ass as you held up your legs – and sure enough, you were flushing pink.

Cyrille could now also see your bare pussy, glistening wetly. Mm, he thought, such a pretty little pussy, waiting to be filled.

“Cy?” you called softly.

“Yes, you are,” he finally replied. “Pink and puffy all over… Like your pussy, princess.”

Then, Cyrille, without any warning, his hand drop from your thighs, where your panties were, and went immediately to your pussy. He wetly pushed his fingers through your folds, feeling how wet you were for him already.

You breathed out at the sudden pleasure between your thighs as he touched you.

“Fuck,” Cyrille moaned a little for you. “Princess, you really are so soft and lovely.” His hand was large enough and his fingers long enough that he could cover your pussy with his hand, pressing his palm up against your pussyhole to give you pressure there, while using his fingers to rub against your pussy lips before slipping in to play with your clit.

“Oh, Cy…” you moaned softly, loving his fingers pressing against your clit and massaging your wet cunt. “I love your hands…” you sighed.

I want to hold his hands again, you thought. You struggled a little, but managed to fit your hands between your thighs. You gently held onto the back of his fingers with yours as he continued to touch you. You could feel your cum starting to slick his fingers and start to make your fingers wet too.

“Mm,” you murmured happily, “Cy…”

“Look at you, all happy,” Cyrille chuckled. “You love being touched like this, don’t you?”

“Yes…” Your eyes were all alight, bright and happy. Your cheeks were flushed a slight pink, too.  

“Maybe we should stick to just pleasure, angel,” Cyrille murmured.

“No, no,” you protested quickly. “I like being touched like this even better after being spanked. It makes me feel like I’m a really good girl for you.” You paused, embarrassed at the sudden confession that had slipped out of you.

“What about you?” you asked him quickly, to distract him. “Don’t you like spanking me?”

“I do, princess. You know that.”

Something about how muted his voice made you think that perhaps… “You’re being gentle with me, aren’t you?” you asked, wrinkling your nose a little.

“Very,” Cyrille admitted. “But that’s all right.”

“But I want to be your best -” You paused, cutting yourself off from revealing too much. “I mean, I have a safeword… You can push me more if, you know, you want. I can take it.”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” Cyrille whispered, and his eyes flashed bright silver for a moment.

“I just want to try,” you told him, and your voice was just as muted as his as you matched his mood. You were trying your best to draw him out.

But Cyrille, who had momentarily forgotten about his recruitment to the Death Eaters when he saw you so happy in his arms, was slipping back into regret and resentment again. His gaze fell to his arm, covered by his sleeve, which concealed the Dark Mark. “Angel, I do want to make love to you as my submissive. But today may not be the best day for me to completely fall into my dominant persona.”

As he spoke, you felt his entire body stiffen with tension, and with a deep anger at himself.

You swallowed hard. “Cyrille…?”

“Am I scaring you?” Cyrille asked you, his eyes softening when he saw you swallow.

You shook your head. “I trust you, Cyrille.”

“Don’t.” The word fell harshly from Cyrille’s lips, like a steel gate crashing down onto the ground, locking you out. It pained Cyrille to hear you say that you trusted him, when only hours ago, he’d committed himself to joining the wrong side of this upcoming war…

You hesitated, seeing his mood shift into something violent. “Cyrille,” you whispered to him, and you reached over with both of your hands, still tied together, to tug gently at the bottom of his shirt. “I do trust you. And I want you to show me your darkness. Don’t lock me out. Take me with you…”

“Angel.” Cyrille’s voice was so quiet you barely heard him.

You looked up at him.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you whispered. You managed to tug his shirt loose from his belt and trousers and you slipped your hands under his hem to touch him, pressing your fingers against his abs as you told him, “I want you to use me tonight.”

“I’m afraid you’re just saying it because you think it’s what I want to hear,” Cyrille told you quietly. “Are you sure it’s what you want?”

“Yes,” you reassured him. “Cyrille, you gave me what I wanted last time, when I needed you most. You were so gentle with me because you knew I was vulnerable. And I know you’re vulnerable now. Let me make you feel better.”

“Angel, you’re not responsible for my emotions,” Cyrille replied. “If I’m upset, that’s on me. I ought to deal with it myself.”

“I know that, but I want to help,” you responded. “Just like you did for me. You weren’t responsible for my tears last time, but you still kissed them all away. I know I would have been strong enough to cope with getting my memories back without you. But having you there with me made the difficult things feel less difficult, and the good things feel more important, if you know what I mean. I was so grateful to have your love and your patience.”

“Besides,” you continued, “I want to feel what it’s like to truly be yours.”

“You already are, I hope,” Cyrille said, lifting his eyebrow at you.

“You know what I mean,” you pushed back, not letting him escape the conversation. You hesitated, not wanting to reveal too much or speak aloud the truth of your future – that you couldn’t be together, that in fact, one of you might even kill the other in the near future… No, you thought, I can’t say that out loud. But you tried to hint at what you meant by saying, “Perhaps if we had more time, we could take it slower, but with the time we have, I want you to show me your deepest desires. I want to feel them with you. I want to feel like I understand you, Cyrille. That would mean a lot to me. Imagine if I didn’t let you stay with me after I got my memories back, if I kept pushing you away… Wouldn’t you feel frustrated? Don’t you want to be there for me?”

Cyrille nodded mutely.

“Well,” you told him honestly, “it’s the same for me. So, please… Use me to your heart’s desire. I want to take it all. I want to be your good girl. I know I can, if you’ll let me…”

Cyrille was still for a long moment. Then, he commanded, a bit hoarsely, “Tell me your safeword.”

Your voice was quite small, too, as you murmured, “Raven…”

Cyrille nodded. “Yes. Keep that word in your head, angel, all right?”

“Okay.”

Cyrille suddenly slapped your wet cunt. You gasped at the unexpected sensation. You blinked in surprise as a soft, but not unpleasant, tingling ran through your pussy. You felt yourself throb wetly.

“Oh…” you breathed out. Your legs were still up in the air, and your thighs shivered as you forced yourself to inhale and breathe again.

“Hold your thighs apart, now, angel,” Cyrille told you. “Don’t let those panties slip down.”

Then, Cyrille finally gave you what you wanted – his fingers, thrusting hard and deep inside of you.

“Ah!”

Cyrille gave you all of two seconds for your pretty little cunt to adjust to his fingers. Then, he finger fucked you roughly, tugging you into the air and then pushing you back down against his lap with every thrust of his fingers.

“Uhnn – ah, ah, ah!” You meant to moan low and loud, but the quick rhythm of his fingers interrupted your moan, accentuating your moan with unintentional breathless and high-pitched whimpers.  

“Good girl,” Cyrille growled at you, feeling the way your tight hole gripped and clutched at his fingers. He imagined your beautiful pussy gripping at his cock like this, and he groaned a little. Desire for you suddenly blossomed up deep inside of Cyrille, making his cock erect and making him push you to be ready for you. He fingered you quite roughly, trying to get your cunt to relax and open up for him.

“Ah, Cy!” you cried out. You responded beautifully to his demanding fingers, as you were already getting so wet for him. And in fact, you loved to be taken like this, loved feeling how much he wanted you, that he would plunge his fingers inside of you like that – all deep and rough with you…

“Uhn!” you moaned out.

“Oh, princess,” Cyrille groaned, feeling your pussy walls clenching tightly on his fingers all of a sudden, “you can’t cum already. It’s only been seconds. You’ve barely had my fingers inside you.”

“I know, but f-feels so g-good,” you stuttered out. “Uhn…” You held your breath and tried your best to hold back from cumming. I know I said I’d cum whenever I wanted to, but this is way too fast. It’s embarrassing, you thought blurrily, as you felt his fingers thrusting quickly, in and out of your tight sex. I should – I should try to – to hold it in for at least a few m-minutes, right? But uhn, fuck, I’ve forgotten how good he fucks me with his fingers. His fingers are so long, and he knows just how to make me take them. Mm, it feels so good. I could cum. I really could cum right now. Ah, please, I want to cum - !

You started to look down at yourself, wanting to see Cyrille’s fingers inside of you, pumping in and out of your tight hole.

But, at that very moment, as Cyrille gave you his fingers hard and fast, he saw his sleeve fluttering up and down his wrist, and he caught a glimpse of his newly minted mark.

Afraid that you would see it, Cyrille growled slightly, and with this other hand, he suddenly reached down and grasping your face hard in his hands, hard enough that his fingers dug softly into your soft cheeks, he held your held your face up, forcing you to look up at the ceiling, away from his arm, where that shameful mark was imprinted.

“Cy…?”

“Don’t look,” he said harshly. “Don’t look down. Just feel me. Feel me inside of you.”

Intent on distracting you and making you cum on his fingers, Cyrille curled his fingers slightly inside of you. You moaned breathlessly, staring hazily at the tall, glassy roof of the boathouse without really seeing anything. His long and slender fingers felt so good inside of you, pushing you ever closer to cumming. Your tummy tightened and squirmed, and your thighs were beginning to tremble. You could feel your panties, which were stretched tight higher up your legs, just below your knees, as you held yourself open for Cyrille, now inching back down your thighs, towards Cyrille’s hand and your pussy, as your legs shivered in the air.

“Hold your thighs open,” Cyrille told you sharply. “Don’t let your panties fall on my hand, or I won’t let you cum.” You could tell from his depth and coldness of Cyrille’s voice that he was serious.

“Hah, ah- o-okay, nngh…” You shut your eyes tightly. Focusing, you forced your quivering legs to stay open in the air, enough to keep your panties stretched tight, to keep them around your thighs and not to slip down to your pussy. But it was difficult to focus on holding your legs open when you felt like your thighs were going to cave in any second now. After all, Cyrille’s fingers were still giving you so much pleasure.

Yes, so much p-pleasure! You gasped out in your head. Oh, God! Mmm, yes! Yes, yes, yes!

“Princess,” Cyrille warned you thinly, as your legs began to come together again. He started to withdraw his fingers. You moaned and tried to keep your legs open again, but they were shaking because you were close, so close to cumming. But his fingers were gone, taken away.

“S-So mean,” you accused Cyrille bitterly. “Not letting me c-cum…” As his other hand was still gripping your face to prevent you from looking down, you suddenly found yourself with a bright idea, or so you thought. You jerked your head slightly to the slide. His fingers fell from your cheek to your lips. You opened your mouth and bit his finger, lightly enough not to hurt him, but certainly hard enough to make your grievance known.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Cyrille asked you, entirely unimpressed at the little gnawing sensation on his knuckles.

You bucked your hips impatiently, thrusting as much as you could to find his fingers again, but Cyrille had pulled his hand away and your close climax was fast receding. You groaned impatiently, and then you bit down on his fingers again, harder this time - not just saying ‘hello,’ but also saying ‘you bastard.’

“Ow, angel,” Cyrille muttered. It would all have been very cute if you weren’t so pissed off with him.

“I was close, you ass!” you told him. “Why won’t you let me cum? Please! You know I need to… to cum. Cy, please…” Your protest had started off angry, but your voice faded into a whimper towards the end.

You put your legs down and moved your hips from side to side on his lap, trying to feel some friction somehow, even though you had no chance of pushing your pussy up against anything unless Cyrille decided to touch you again.

Why won’t I let you cum? Because you’re so adorable when you’re all needy, princess, don’t you know? Cyrille thought. But he didn’t say that out loud.

Instead, he acquiesced quickly, “All right, all right, I’m sorry.”

Your anger faded at once, sparking back into excited hope. Lifting your legs again, you asked brightly, “Touch me again?”

Cyrille smiled. “Yes, angel, I will.”

“And I can cum this time?” you made him promise.

“You can cum this time,” he promised you.

Cyrille meant to draw his left hand away from your mouth, but when he felt your soft and warm lips find his fingers again, only to suck them gently this time, he left his hand there, loving your mouth on him. With his right hand, he reached down once more and pushed his fingers inside you again – this time with three fingers, instead of two.

“Mmm,” you moaned immediately, and Cyrille felt the warm hum of your moan run through his fingers into your mouth.

Cyrille’s fingers were fast coated with your wetness as they sank deep inside of your warmth. As he worked back up to his previous rhythm of pleasuring you, your little muffled moans spilled out from between his fingers in your mouth. As he fucked your wet pussy repeatedly with his fingers, Cyrille saw glimpses of your flushed ass flashing in the air. He groaned in his mind and he felt himself slipping towards chasing pure pleasure with you.

Of course, pleasure for Cyrille was never an easy thing. It meant possession and protectiveness, which, by definition, causes pain. We can never truly possess another human being, even if (perhaps even more so) if our intentions are to protect them. Cyrille knew this, but knowledge did not change the fact that he had been taught by those around him that possession was the closest one could ever come to love. And so, if he loved you, Cyrille ached to feel that you were truly and entirely his. He wanted all of your little whimpers and shudders and quivers to himself, and he wanted them over and over again.

And your adorable, continuously escalating moans was coaxing and feeding Cyrille’s desire to claim you just this one night, before the two of you had to part…

“C-Cy, ‘M c-close!” you breathed out, with his fingers still in your mouth. Your lips were becoming wet, too, as your speaking around his fingers spread your saliva onto your lips. At your words, Cyrille began to move his fingers in your mouth back and forth too, pumping his fingers in both your mouth and your pussy simultaneously.

“Cum for me, my love,” Cyrille told you, in a deceptively soothing voice. “Cum for me.”

“Uhn… Cy, I want to- I want to cum for you,” you breathed out sweetly, responding to his lovely voice. You could feel your pussy clenching hard around his fingers as you felt yourself nearing your climax, and you shivered with pleasure. Yes, you told yourself, cum for Cy. Cum for your boyfriend. Cum all over his hand.

But Cyrille continued speaking, and as he did, his soothing voice grew into something far more animalistic and brutal. “Yes, angel, cum. Cum now. Cum, knowing you’re going to be fucked all night, in all ways. Cum knowing you need this tight little pussy of yours to be wet enough to take cock all night long. Cum so I can use you.”

“C-Cy…” you stuttered out, surprised, but too close to your orgasm to stop yourself from cumming now.

“You promise you’d be a good girl, my good girl,” Cyrille reminded you. “And you’ll live up to your word, won’t you?  You’ll make yourself all slick and sloppy for me, won’t you? Mm, yes, you will. You’ll be as wet as possible, preferably dripping cum everywhere, so you won’t have to use your safeword tonight.”

His voice was purring, but you were hearing his words, and how they were promising such sweet but dark ruin. And, all the meanwhile, his fingers were pistoning in and out of you, fucking you in such a sweet, sweet, way. That thin line in your tummy was going to – going to – snap!

“Ah!” You cried out sharply as you came. You spasmed slightly, and your legs crossed in the air as you squeezed your thighs together. Thankfully, your panties didn’t fall down your legs, as you’d crossed your legs quickly enough that the thin fabric was effectively caught higher up between your thighs. Your head fell back, disappearing just over the edge of the pile of boxes, with your hair streaming down and nearly touching the ground. Your shirt, sweater, and bra were all gathered up and resting in a soft heap on your torso, and your breasts under them heaved as you gasped out your orgasm. You could hear your own breath rushing through your head as cum streamed out from your cunt. But you’d barely finished cumming when Cyrille demanded that you cum again.

“Legs apart,” Cyrille ordered you, with a sharp slap against your inner thigh. You flinched instinctively, though the slap didn’t hurt at all.

“Cy?”

“You’ll cum again,” Cyrille told you, and his authoritative voice left no room for question. “And you’ll do it now. Open your fucking legs.”

“Hah… Ah…” Breathing hard and trembling, it took everything you had to push your thighs open again, and only narrowly at that.

Cyrille thrust his fingers back inside of you, curling them again to reach your sweet spot. You trembled all over from that simple movement. Yes, you moaned in your head, right there. The only thing that could satisfy me more is your cock, Cyrille. You were wetter, and therefore, more easily able to take his fingers, but at the same time, having just cummed, you were more sensitive than before. “O-Oh…” you breathed out, as you felt his fingertips grazing that spot in your cunt that was always begging to be touched. Such a wonderful pressure, right where it needs to be, you thought, exhaling in relief. Oh, Cy, you know me so well.

Your pussy throbbed, and your thighs twitched, as Cyrille began to jerk his arm back and forth again, giving you his fingers, which were already wet with your cum. Cyrille used your slickness to push his fingers into you faster, until your cum was steadily dripping down his wrist.

“F-Fuck,” you moaned out, feeling Cyrille’s knuckles hitting up against your pussy hole hard with every thrust. It was such a delicious feeling, to feel his fingers thrusting into you, his fingertips repeatedly pleasuring your most intimate spot, and to simultaneously have that pressing up right at your pussy hole. You could give yourself to him this way forever, you thought blissfully.

Oh God, I think I’m gonna cum again, you moaned in your head. Yes, I’m gonna – I’m gonna – Ah! “Uhn!” you cried out, and your back arched unsteadily off of his lap. However, feeling your tender and sore ass start to slip off of Cyrille’s lap, you quickly fell back against him. Cyrille, feeling you coil back, took advantage of that moment, shoving his fingers into you as far as he could and pushing his fingertips up into your sweet spot as you came.

“A-Ah, Cy! Ah!” you gasped. You shut your eyes tightly as you felt a second wave of pleasure come crashing down inside of you, pushing up the end of your first wave of pleasure higher than heaven – and then, before you could even think about it, let alone think about holding back - you squirted your cum everywhere. Your cum went splashing all over the floor beneath you, and left your thighs and ass completely wet.

“Oh…” you gasped out, in disbelief at what you’d just done. “Oh, Cy… I- I came too much…” you stuttered out.

Cyrille moaned lowly. “Fuck, angel,” he cursed.

Cyrille suddenly pulled out his fingers and he slapped your soaking wet pussy hard enough to make you flinch. A sharp, rather lewd, and yet satisfying, sound rang out.

You jolted a little, and your cunt thumped in surprise at the sudden sensation. “Fuck,” you cursed through gritted teeth. “Uhn…!”

Cyrille, who was intent on not giving you a moment of respite, had thrust his fingers inside of you yet again, just in time to feel your pussy throbbing. You cried out in surprise when you felt his fingers shoved inside of your sex a third time. “Cy,” you breathed out, as your abs tensed yet again. “I-I’ve already cum – cum twice…”

“I know you have, my love. I can feel it. Mmm, all throbbing and wet, this tight little pussy,” Cyrille murmured. “Such a sweet little cunt, asking to be fucking pounded into, aren’t you, angel?”

“And you’ve made a right mess,” Cyrille whispered to you. Though he had fully intended for you to squirt, he teased you now, saying in a low voice, “I know I told you to cum, but you came everywhere, angel. You are so, so wet.” He gave you another light slap on your pussy, to accentuate his point, as the sharp side of his palm on your wet pussy lips sounded out yet again.

You whimpered softly.

“Good girls don’t cum like this,” Cyrille told you. With his other hand, which had been shoved into your mouth for most of the finger-fucking, he now reached up and gently smoothed back the stray curls that had fallen onto your forehead. He leaned forward and kissed you on the forehead as he whispered, “Good girls are controlled, tidy, and clean. But you, princess, are so very sloppy.”

Taking out his fingers, Cyrille rubbed his palm against your pussy hard, massaging your pussy all over and spreading your wetness all over your pussy lips.

Your breathing hitched when you felt his palm pressing up against your pussy, spreading the base of your lips open and then glancing slightly off of your pussy hole.

“But… you told me – told me to be messy,” you breathed out, pushing back at his words, and trying to make sense of what he was telling you. “I thought you wanted me to…” You blushed a little. “You didn’t…?”

Cyrille smirked, seeing your confusion. Of course I wanted you to cum hard, princess. You’re so silly.

Unable to help himself, Cyrille leaned down yet against and he kissed both of your cheeks affectionately, admiring the pink flush creeping up in them.

Unfortunately for you, you’d forgotten to keep your legs up and as your thighs slowly caved in, your panties gradually slid all the way down, back towards your pussy and ass. Cyrille felt them slide onto the back of his hand, as his hand was still covering your pussy.

Cyrille suddenly sighed.

Your eyes shot open when you heard his disappointed sound. “W-What?” you said nervously.

“You forget orders so easily,” Cyrille murmured.

“Cy?”

“Well, these are fucking useless, anyways. You certainly won’t be wearing them again tonight,” Cyrille muttered, grasping your panties in his grip. He immediately yanked them off of you in one quick tug. They caught against your thighs – then snapped and fell to the floor. “Ah!” A soft sound of surprise left your lips.

What was more, the force of his tug yanked your legs down, and the sudden shift in weight made you slide off of Cyrille’s lap and fall onto the floor. You found yourself suddenly sitting all dazed, quite confused as to where your panties had gone and why you were suddenly on the floor.

Before you could so much as blink, Cyrille stepped in front of you and yanked down his pants to his thighs.

“Cy, wha – Mmphf!” Your mouth was suddenly stuffed full of cock.

“Take me, princess,” he growled unforgivingly. “Open that perfect mouth of yours and let me fuck your throat.” Surprised by how aggressively he was thrusting his cock into your mouth already, you nearly fell backwards, but Cyrille reached down and gripping your head in his hands, he roughly shoved his entire length down your throat.

“Mm!” You whimpered loudly. Tears sprang to your eyes.  “Mm, mm, mm!”

“Relax,” Cyrille reminded you in a low, cold voice. “Loosen that throat, princess. I’ve taught you this before. Show me what you’ve learned. You did so well for me last time, you know.”

You shut your eyes and focused on taking his cock in your mouth and deep into your throat, too. You felt yourself shifting unsteadily on your feet, guided mostly by Cyrille’s hands on your head as he held you in place to fuck your mouth for his pleasure. The way he was pushing into you hard enough to make you body rock back and forth made your own cum shiver and then drip sweetly and steadily down your thighs.

“Come on. Deeper,” Cyrille ordered you. “You need to sit up.” He reached down with one hand and found the ribbon around your hands again. Grasping it, he yanked the end of the ribbon to quickly pull you up on your feet.

As you struggled to get a balance on your feet (for you were still bending your knees and sitting, just sitting up now), your sneakers slid a little on the cum that you’d squirted out just minutes ago. Trying not to fall, your still-bound hands naturally fell forward onto Cyrille’s thigh. You clutched onto his leg to try to steady yourself, but it was difficult to situate yourself while Cyrille was relentlessly thrusting into your mouth.

But your stream of whimpers alerted Cyrille and he opened his eyes and looked down to see you hanging onto his leg, lips parted just enough to be wrapped around his cock in a perfect little “O” and your eyes starting up at him, wide with surprise, as he was much rougher than usual.

Seeing you like that, Cyrille showered you with little praises, murmuring, “Good fucking girl” and “Taking me so well,” but he didn’t lessen his demanding pace one bit. He wouldn’t, either, not until he was fully hard and his cock would no longer in your mouth, no matter how roughly he tried to stuff your mouth with it. But, happily for him, he’ d have to fuck your adorable little mouth a few more times before he reached that point.

“Fuck,” Cyrille spoke through harshly gritted teeth. “Yes, good girl, letting me fuck your mouth like this… Uhn…” His hands had slipped into your hair. Then, he shut his eyes and leaned back slightly as he thrust harder into your mouth.

He groaned as he felt his cock throb in your mouth. You felt his fingers tightening in your curls and your lips became sloppy, glistening brightly with his pre-cum as his cock pushed in and out greedily from between your lips. You felt the weight of his cock sliding over your tongue, and you could start to taste his pre-cum. You tried to swallow, but he was too relentless, and you simply had to keep your throat open. A small thread of saliva, mixed with pre-cum, escaped the corner of your mouth and dribbled down to your jaw.

You were panting now, and your knees were starting to become sore for sitting in this position for so long, and you felt very, very bare in this position, as you didn’t have any panties on anymore (or any panties to wear, for that matter) and your skirt was hitched up by your knees.

“Mmm!” You cried out. Your muffled cries were heavenly to Cyrille. You were the only woman he ever wanted to hear like that for the rest of his life – you, moaning in pleasure and then choking on his too-thick cock. Cyrille moaned and still gripping onto a fistful of your hair, he yanked you back just in time to stop him from cumming in your mouth.

No, he reminded himself, even though he could barely hear himself over his own groaning, you can’t cum yet. You haven’t fucked Angel yet. Not yet. Fuck, I could have, though. I could have filled that pretty mouth of hers with cum. That would be one way to teach a mouthy brat to listen better. I wouldn’t lecture her, not princess, but I could teach her physically. I think she’d rather like that, as it were. And I know I certainly would.

And the very thought of Angel, sitting on the floor, looking all blissed-out with a mouthful of my cum. Fuck, he growled in his mind. When she swallowed all of my cum in the library, I was so mesmerized. Her, my beautiful woman, swallowing all of my cum willingly… God, it was such a gorgeous sight. And I remember seeing her sitting in the Great Hall with all of her Gryffindor friends. She wasn’t hungry that night, and only I knew why – because her little tummy was full of my cum. My cum.

You fell back against the boxes behind you, gasping for breath. Your tied-together hands were clutching at your chest as you attempted to find your breath again.

However, before you could find your breath again, Cyrille had pulling you on top of him, for he’d stripped off his pants and was now lying on the floor.

“You’re going to ride me, angel,” he told you, running his hands up and down your thighs. “You’re going to sit on my cock, and I want you to pleasure yourself on my cock until you cum. And then, when you’re all wet, you’re going to fuck me until I cum inside of you.”

Your knees were already sore, and you struggled a little to get yourself up without being able to use your hands. However, you managed to lean forward, put your palms down on the middle of Cyrille’s chest, and then get up again, with your feet placed on either side of Cyrille’s hips. It took you a lot more effort than you thought.

I’m already tired, you thought. After sitting there and having Cyrille fuck my mouth so roughly, I don’t know if I’ve got the strength in my legs right now to do this…

Cyrille reached down and placed his hands underneath your ass, supporting you and helping you to guide your wet pussy to his hard, stiff cock. Cyrille began to sit you down on his cock, but you breathed out, “Wait…”

He paused. “Angel?”

His hands began to slide out from under you, to reach for your face, but when you felt his hands disappear, you were suddenly left on your own to support your own weight while sitting and you slid down a little – and the tip of his cock pressed against your pussyhole.

Cyrille exhaled in anticipation. Forgetting about his intention to lovingly touch your face just a second ago, Cyrille abruptly grasped your hips, and before either of you were completely sure of what was happening, he had pushed you down. You felt the tip of his cock penetrate you, pushing into and then past your tight hole to slide inside of you.

“A-Ah!” Your nails dug into Cyrille’s chest as you had had no warning about being penetrated. Your already exhausted body quivered as you were trying to hold yourself up and take him at the same time – and you were failing at both.

“Princess…” Cyrille whispered your beloved title.

“C-Cy, I c-can’t – Uhn… You’re stretching me o-out!” You choked on the last word, as your breath hitched when you were trying to speak.

A second later, you both moaned fervently as you felt yourself being stretched out so deliciously by his cock, and he felt your pussy gripping down on his cock in the most pleasurable way. No longer just your fingers, your hands scrabbled a little at the front of Cyrille’s shirt, but finding it too hard to pick up the thin fabric from his sculpted chest, you ended up gripping onto his Slytherin tie.

Feeling his hard cock already stretching you out, you tried to lean forward and hold yourself up from having to take his cock too deep too fast, but it was a lost cause. With your thighs trembling from holding yourself up, and with Cyrille steadily pushing you down on his cock, you only managed to struggle for a few seconds to stay up before inevitably sliding down a little further. You winced and shut your eyes tightly as Cyrille’s cock violated your pussy deeper. Cyrille, seeing you wince, immediately took his hands off of your waist, not wanting to pressure you into taking his cock any further. Instead, he reached up and sliding his large hands under your shirt and blouse again, he grasped your breasts in both of his hands, groping the soft mounds roughly, alternating between palming them and squeezing them.

Though you usually loved all of the attention Cyrille gave your breasts, in this moment, you hardly noticed, as you were struggling very much to both not take in and take in his cock - that is, you couldn’t help but sit further and further down, taking him in more and more. Your thighs were going to give out any second now, but he was already inside you, half-coaxing and half-forcing your tightness apart, and your squirming all around his cock was making it much, much worse.

Cyrille, who had not recognized how tired you were already, had been focused on pleasuring your beautiful breasts and decided to leave it up to you to set the pace for how you would take his cock. But slowly, with your exhausted exhales and your unending trembling, Cyrille began to realize how much you were struggling on top of him. Then, there was the light nudges of motion around his neck. Your hands, gripping his house tie, were yanking on it softly, and Cyrille felt the upper part of the tie looped around his neck twisting a little as you pulled at it.

“Hah… Ah… Ah…” Your labored breathing was sounding out loudly now, filling the space between the two of you.  

Cyrille’s eyes traced up to your face. Your mouth had fallen open, but your eyes were shut, and the softest, most delicate whimpers fell from your lips as you felt yourself sinking down onto his aching cock. It was taking everything you had to hold yourself upright, but also, every time you sank down just a little bit further on his cock, you jolted, and you would clench around him so tightly. The tie around Cyrille’s neck was actually quite tight now, choking him. But Cyrille didn’t let himself show any indication of it. Besides, he rather enjoyed it, particularly since you were holding onto the other end of the tie for dear life, and only doing so because the ribbon bound tightly around your own precious hands made it impossible for you to grab onto anything else. Cyrille smirked a little, even as a slow burn began to rise in his chest.

However, before he could feel too pleased with himself, you, losing strength in your legs very quickly, sank down even further on his cock.

“Ah!” you gasped, and your pussy clenched hard, struggling with the sudden intrusion of Cyrille’s thick, long cock pushing into you.

Oh God, I feel Angel clenching all over my cock. She’s throbbing already, Cyrille thought, as he gazed up at him, absolutely mesmerized in watching you shivering all over his cock.

But then, a more sensible voice clunked into Cyrille’s brain, telling him, She’s struggling. Angel’s struggling! Quick, help her. Cyrille suddenly grasped your waist and held you up himself, giving your weary legs and thighs and your throbbing pussy a respite.  

You were quite clever, though, and instead of just having him hold you up for a little break, you immediately thought ahead and flopped over on top of him, so that you wouldn’t have to hold yourself up at all anymore. Your hands let go of Cyrille’s tie, and suddenly, Cyrille could breathe again, with cool air rushing down his windpipes.

Cyrille paused. Then, he chuckled as he realized your tactic. He was about to tease you for flopping on top of him like a fish, but then he noticed how your legs, folded and curled up on either side of him, were quivering quite badly. He could feel your hot breaths against his chest as you panted heavily against him.

“Angel,” he whispered, breaking his persona for you, “if you need to use your safeword, you can.”

You shook your head. “No, I don’t – Hah… I don’t need to use my safeword. But… I could use - use some kisses.”

You managed to drag a deep breath in your lungs as you recovered. Then, you leaned forward hopefully so that you could press your lips to his. As you leaned forward, your tummy pressed into his stomach and your thighs spread open a little further on top of his hips.

Cyrille gave a false sigh and now, knowing that you were all right, he teased you, “Whenever I think I’ve taught you something about how to be submissive, you pop right back up and win the battle. Asking for kisses and all that. Giving up on riding my cock before you’ve even started. You haven’t learned your place at all, have you?”

“But then,” Cyrille murmured, “I wouldn’t have you any other way. You are very much a princess, to be quite honest. But you’re my princess, and there’s nothing else that matters.”

With that, Cyrille lifted his head to capture your lips in a soft and quite tender kiss. As you received his kiss with a contented sigh, you began to shift back and forth on top of him, as the tip of his cock was still inside of you. Taking him in, just the tip, of rocking back and forth like that, with your mouths still pressed together, you both moaned softly.

Cyrille reached down and slid his hands under your skirt. The skirt caught on his wrists and was pushed up some ways as Cyrille grasped your ass, holding you. He loved how he could feel your entire body shifting back and forth on top of him to take him in, and he also appreciated how he could feel your lips pull back just a little as you shifted back but then quickly press against his mouth once more as you when you leaned forward again.  

You began to roll your hips a little, and your kisses became even more fervent, as both of you were starting to feel the heat rising between your thighs. Cyrille’s nails dug slightly into your ass, encouraging you to take more and more of him in.

“Mm,” you breathed out, working yourself against him, and feeling such a blissful feeling between your legs, right at your pussyhole. You were only taking in the first inch or so of your cock, but you were certainly making the most of it.

“Oh, princess, you’re fucking teasing me,” Cyrille growled against your lips, as you stayed resolutely at the tip of his cock, milking it for all it was worth, but never slipping down any further.

“I’m n-not teasing,” you replied honestly. “It just feels so – so good like this. Uhn…”

Your eyes were becoming glassy with pleasure, and you tilted your head back, stretching out like a little cat on top of Cyrille, with your paws pressed together up against his chest. As you rocked back and forth on the tip of his cock, feeling the tip stretch out your pussyhole a little bit with each rock, and losing yourself to that delicious feeling of the tip going in and out, in and out, rubbing at your entrance in the most pleasant way, it made you feel all fuzzy and you were all but purring with happiness.

Cyrille was very amused, watching you use his cock as you wanted to please yourself. You seemed totally lost in your own pleasure, not realizing that he was fucking aching with his need to be inside you…

Angel, you’re selfish, he teased you in his head. Not realizing how my cock is throbbing to be all the way inside you. Though he would rather die than ever admit it to you, Cyrille took his own advice and counted to ten in his head. One, two, three… When he hit ten, Cyrille suddenly thrust up into you, pushing his cock hard and fast up into you.

“Uhn!” You gasped, and your eyes shot open wide as you suddenly felt yourself incredibly stuffed and stretched by Cyrille’s hard cock. He wasn’t even inside you all the way, and you were already turning into a whimpering, struggling mess, shifting on your knees back and forth as much as you could, subconsciously trying to create friction to make yourself wetter and more relaxed to take him, but it was too late – he was so deep inside you, and pushing deeper, making you take him, filling you up so, so good –

“Ah!” You had been holding your breath and whimpering, but finally, a high-pitched cry burst from your lips. You gasped for air, and then let out a long, low moan. “Uhnnn…”

You started to lean forward to lift your hips up, to create some distance between you and Cyrille, but Cyrille’s arms locked around your waist and held you pressed against him, keeping your ass and pussy low for the taking.

“Remember,” Cyrille whispered, “you have a safe word. But if you don’t utter it, you’re mine.” At the word “mine,” he thrust into your pussy as hard and fast as he wanted, taking your tightness as his own, and forcing quite a bit more of his cock inside of you than you were taking seconds before, when you were happily and naively milking only the tip. You squirmed in his embrace; his strong arms kept you securely pinned down on top of him.

“C-Cy!” you gasped weakly, as his hips jerked up into the air, thrusting his cock into you. His cock couldn’t fit inside you all the way yet, but as a result, towards the base of the cock, his cock seemed to widen out and slam up against your pussy hole, stretching you out quite intensely.

“Uhn!” Your cry ripped through the air. You knew you needed to take a deep breath, but before you could draw breath, his cock was pressing punishingly at your tight little hole again, and another moan was pushed out of you.

“Fuck,” Cyrille groaned, as a pleasure so strong it was almost relief coursed through his body. You were wrapped so beautifully around his aching cock.

He tried to give you a moment, to see if you would use your safe word. When you didn’t, a low growl escaped the back of his throat, and Cyrille began to push into you harder and harder, forcing your hips up higher and higher into the air every time he took you.

“Uh! Uh! Uhn!” You felt yourself being pushed up into the air with each thrust, bucking forward slightly only to come back down onto Cyrille’s cock again, and then be taken yet again.

Cyrille had his hands gripping your waist under your sweater and shirt, and he was unintentionally guiding you to sit down more heavily on him, so he could fuck you deeper. He wasn’t conscious of it, but you certainly were, as you found yourself being pushed up more and more vertically, and the little distance between his thighs and yours slowly vanished, until his thighs were smacking up against yours as he fucked you deeply.

Your hands bounced uselessly in the air, as they were still tied together. Your curls, too, were creating quite a pretty show behind you, swishing in the air as Cyrille pounded up into your little pussy and with a heavy hand, made you ride his cock back.

You were still just a bit too tight. He was slamming into your tight walls deep inside of you that were protecting your cervix, and Cyrille couldn’t quite make you take all of his cock. Your cunt was literally dripping wet, as your body worked hard to make you slick to ease how deeply and roughly you were being taken. But it was too much for you – you couldn’t take it – “Nngh, C-Cy, ah…”

With a heavy exhale, you collapsed on top of Cyrille, your head coming to rest on his shoulder just below his head.

Cyrille hugged you tight in his arms and kissed your face all over with fervent kisses, but he didn’t stop fucking you, and his cock was drumming a hard rhythm of rising pleasure and intense tension between your thighs.

“A-Ah! Ah!” You couldn’t even get a proper moan out, he was fucking you far too hard for that. He wasn’t all the way inside of you, knowing that that might still hurt you, for he could feel how tight you still were, but he was certainly making up for it with his fast, hard rhythm.

“Fuck, I’m close already,” Cyrille choked out. “Angel, your pussy takes cock so well – just gripping me so tightly – uhn…”

At this, a sensation of affection burst through all of the tension that overtaking both your body and mind. You found yourself thinking, You may be a dominant, but you’re soft for me, Cyrille. I know it now, and I love you for it. You sound so cute when you’re about to cum.

When you heard him moan softly, you tried to look up at him, wanting very much to see his expression. Only, he was holding you so tightly that you couldn’t tilt your head back very much to look at him. Blinking hard, you found yourself looking up at Cyrille through your lashes.

“C-Cy?” you managed to whisper, wanting him to meet your gaze. Even as you spoke, though, he was pounding into you, and your breath hitched, interrupting your calling for him.

Cyrille heard you though, and he looked down at you. Seeing the way you were trying your best to gaze up at him, he murmured, “You’re so soft and adorable, angel.” He thrust up into you again, pushing yet another moan out of you.

You felt his arms tighten around you, pressing you down quite tightly against his chest and making sure your body was flush to his, so he could fuck your little pussy hard and fast. But honestly, you felt so safe in his arms. You loved that he was holding you like this, all tight and loving, even as he ruined your pussy with his cock.

“Are you – Are you going to c-cum?” you asked him, panting hard.

“You’ve no idea how much I want to… but I won’t cum just yet, princess,” Cyrille said, though he groaned slightly as he restrained himself.

Cyrille slowed down a little with his thrusts to tell you, “Up against the boxes. Now.”

“Hm?”

Cyrille pulled you both up so that you were standing together. Then, stepping up behind you, he kissed you lightly on your shoulder before he grasped your waist, turned you around, and pushed you forward against the boxes. You fell forward on top of them, bending at the waist and folding over them very naturally, as though you were a falling ballerina.

Cyrille admired you for a moment, seeing the back of your beautiful long legs, streaked lightly with cum. Then, he pushed up the back of your skirt to reveal your ass all flushed pink and your pussy still glistening wetly.

Seeing you like that, Cyrille realized how much you trusted him, how willingly you spread yourself open for him, to take you in the most intimate way and to touch you in your most intimate places. And unlike his other lovers, who would perform the same actions for anyone remotely resembling his status or his physicality, you did so only because it was him. You only allowed yourself to be so vulnerable because you genuinely trusted him, and he was so very thankful for that.

Letting go of his fears and insecurities, Cyrille finally refused to second-guess himself as he brought his hand down against your ass. Smack! This time, his slap left a fresh, boldly outlined handprint on your plush skin.

Your eyes flew open, as a sharp sensation flashed on your skin, followed by a strong stinging on your rear. Fuck, that was hard, you thought to yourself, biting down on your lower lip. Yet, something about it made you feel… free. Besides, you liked having Cyrille’s handprint on you, to tell the truth. You’d been a bit sad when the last one faded away on you from your session at the library. But there was a bit more, too, because the initial slap made your pussy throb and then the stinging sensation ran up your spine in a surprisingly delicious manner… These sensations made you, well, truthfully, it made you want to get fucked. It made you want to feel your little cunt get stuffed full of cock over and over, until you came… Mmm, you thought to yourself, moaning in your head. Yeah, I want to be fucked, and I want to cum. I want to cum so bad. You subconsciously wiggled your ass back and forth a little, wanting very much to be fucked again.

Cyrille paused. You were so cute like that, shifting your bum in front of him. But as Cyrille’s eyes went from admiring you generally to falling onto your pussy, he recognized that your tight little hole was asking to be absolutely stuffed with cock and wrecked with a good pounding.

I can give her that, Cyrille knew. His cock throbbing with need, Cyrille abruptly ripped your skirt off of you. It fell onto your feet, catching around your ankles.

Cyrille slapped your ass hard again – “Ah!” you cried out –  and he ordered, “Legs apart. Now.”

Leaning your weight forward onto your elbow, you obediently stepped out of your skirt and pulled your feet apart, opening yourself up for Cyrille.

Cyrille stepped close behind you, and after rubbing your wet cunt a few times with his hand, he then forced the tip of his cock back inside of your warmth.

You breathed out, shutting your eyes tightly. His cock is throbbing, and he feels so swollen... Fuck, I’m never going to get used to the tight sensation of when he first enters me, am I?

Cyrille waited for you to adjust, though he moved his hips back and forth a little to coax you to open up quicker. When you felt him pressing against you, quickly opening you up and spreading your walls apart deeper and deeper, your tummy tightened a little. He’s impatient, you realized. Well, he always is. What I mean is that he’s not trying to hide anymore.

Sure enough, as soon as your slick walls showed just a little less resistance, Cyrille pushed his hips forward quickly, sinking his cock deep inside of you. When, at the end, he felt that your walls were still tight, he thrust a little, and pushing through, he hit up against your cervix.

You felt the curve of his cock moving through you, and then, you gasped a little when you felt his cock push into your deepest part, into that softest and warmest part of you that was desperate for attention…

“Are you feeling me, angel?” Cyrille asked you, whispering sweetly, with his voice thin and curving curiously, like the slender and mesmerizing shape of a crescent moon. “Can you feel how deep inside of you I am?”

“Yes…”

“Tell me you can feel me, princess,” Cyrille whispered. His nails dragged down your hips onto your ass and he gripped your ass hard, making you feel how sore you were already all over your ass from your spanking before.

“Feels so – so deep,” you admitted, murmuring.

Cyrille kept himself buried inside of you, not pulling out even a little, as he began to roll his hips into you.

At first, you winced slightly and tightened as you felt the tip of his cock repeatedly pressing hard against your cervix, with no respite whatsoever. You bit down on your lower lip, and your hands squeezed together, with your nails digging into the back of your hands.

“Do you need to use your safeword?” Cyrille murmured.

“N-No,” you stuttered out softly. You fidgeted slightly as the feeling of his cock pressing so deep inside of your softness was admittedly uncomfortable, sending little ripples of overstimulation through you. However, your thoughtless moving only created friction between the two of you, and you both groaned together.

That slight friction of your pussy rubbing back on his cock made Cyrille grit his teeth. “Fuck,” he growled. “I could fucking cum in you right now.”

“I want you to,” you mumbled back. “Cum in me, Cy. Cum in my pussy.”

“I haven’t even fucked you yet,” Cyrille muttered. “Not properly, the way this pussy deserves to be.”

“By you,” you told him.

Cyrille paused, as the warmth of your words washed over him. “Yes,” he said softly, “by me.”

“Good girl,” he murmured to you tenderly.

You nodded your head a little, affirming what you’d just said and wanting Cyrille to remember that you thought of yourself as his.

Deserves to be… The words stayed with you, for some reason. Because, you realized, they demand reciprocity. You hesitated, and then you found the courage to say, “You know, it’s the… the same for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You can’t forget that you’re mine,” you told him softly. “You can’t let anyone else be with you this way. No one else gets to make you cum like I do. Only me. Only I get you this way. You can only cum in me. Please. Promise me.”

“Angel, of course,” Cyrille whispered adoringly.

“I mean it, Cy,” you told him, a bit embarrassed to be so demanding, but meaning it all the same. “Only I get to be fucked and spanked by you.”

“I promise you, princess,” Cyrille said sincerely. “I’m yours. I thought that was obvious. And yes, I’ll only cum in you.”

“Oh, Cy,” you moaned tenderly. “That’s all I want.”

Cyrille felt your pussy pulse on his cock, and he groaned again.

“And I promise,” you told him sincerely, “I promise I’ll be a good girl for you. I will. I’ll do my absolute best for you.”

With his cock still buried inside of you between your legs, Cyrille squeezed your ass hard in his hands and then gave you a stinging smack again.

“Uhn!” you gasped, jolting a little. It was your reaction – that little jolt, and that desperate and shocked gasp, that spurred Cyrille forward. Grabbing your hips again, Cyrille thrust into you hard, snapping his hips forward violently and without warning.

“Ah!” You cried out and you felt your elbows dragging forward on top of the boxes as you were shoved forward by the force of his thrust. Heat flared up between your legs, and there was an intense pressure repeatedly pounding into your pussy, stretching you out so much at your entrance and hitting up against you deep inside of you. You gritted your teeth. Being taken like this, so passionately, was almost too much to bear. But there was also a deep sense of pleasure flowering inside of you, both physically, as you were steadily getting very, very wet between your legs, and also emotionally, because this deep pressure claiming you so fiercely was none other than Cyrille’s physical manifestation of his promise to love you and only you…

Cy, Cy, Cy, you murmured your lover name’s in your head to yourself with such love and affection, and then to think that he was actually inside you now, not just in your dreams, but merging himself with you in reality –

“‘S too much,” you mumbled pitifully, as you were fucked hard against the boxes, with the wooden edges of the crates digging into your plush thighs as Cyrille slammed you against the side of the boxes repeatedly with how hard he was taking you. “‘S too much.” The words kept slipping out of your mouth without you really being conscious of them. “It hurts,” you whispered to yourself, but you were talking about your heart, not your body. All of the emotions were dredging up inside of you, and squeezing your heart so tightly it felt like a physical reality. It was too much love and too much sorrow to bear. You moaned softly, “I just wanna – wanna be fucked…”

Hearing your soft little whispers, Cyrille began to slow down his pace, but you shook your head frantically and moaned, “No, please, k-keep going… Uhh…”

As you vaguely finished speaking, a moan left you as a new rush of cum left you, streaming down your thighs and down your lover’s cock. You put your head down on the boxes and moaned, but you were too dazed to realize to what extent you’d cummed, for despite the release of cum, the slow, steady burn in your tummy, deep in your pussy, and all over your ass was continuing to smolder on. You were intent on satisfying the burning ache inside of you, so much so that you didn’t even realize that you were cumming. I need to be fucked properly, filled over and over again, you told yourself feverishly, and you nodded blurrily.

“Angel?” Cyrille whispered, reaching up for a moment to push back his long hair, slightly dampened now with sweat at his temples.

“I didn’t use my safeword,” you reminded him. Your voice was slightly faint, but your words curved into whines, betrayed your desire. “P-Please, you were fucking me so well…”

“I’m not hurting you?” Cyrille asked you.

“No,” you moaned, “no hurt… Just, please, keep g-going…”

Cyrille’s brow furrowed. He’d never quite heard you like before. You’d always moaned so sweetly for him, but you’d clearly gone beyond that, and were now begging, almost pitifully, to be fucked.  

“I was c-close, Cy,” you told him. “I’m about to… I’m going to… c-cum.”

Lost in your own world, you shivered all over. Yes, I want to cum on him, on Cy, my love. I don’t just want his cum, I want him to feel me cumming for him, too. Cum and cum and cum, endlessly, for him… My love… I love him so much. I’m going to miss him so much.

You swallowed hard. “Please… Let me cum,” you whispered. “Don’t stop, Cy. I was feeling your cock inside of me, and I need you… I need you to keep going.”

At this, Cyrille lifted an eyebrow at you. You weren’t just “close,” angel, he thought wryly. You were already cumming all over my cock, nearly squirting – and you just think you were merely “close” or “about to”? How fucked out are you already that you don’t even know what a mess you are?

“Fine,” he told you. He smacked your ass again, not hard, but letting his palm stick to your pretty ass for a moment, pressing against you. Then, he said, “Up on the boxes and spread your thighs, angel. I’ll fuck you deeper. I’ll make you cum. I promise.”

You whimpered, but in pleasurable anticipation. You slowly managed to push yourself further up on the pile of boxes, until you were hanging over the far edge of the boxes, with your ass propped up right on the near edge of the boxes, presenting yourself beautifully before Cyrille. Cum on your clit messily, but softly, dripped down onto your thighs. Cyrille reached down and rubbed your cunt wetly for a few seconds, loving the way your slick cum let his fingers slide all over your puffy pink pussy lips.

Cyrille admired how perky and plush your ass was, just waiting for him, and how smooth your thighs were, leading up to your sweet little cunt, waiting so patiently and politely to be fucked raw by him.

Cyrille placed both his hands on your thighs ands gently pressed down, pulling your pussy hole apart.

“Ah…” You breathed out lightly.

Bending down, Cyrille kissed your pussy wetly.

“Cy…!” You cried out.

He sucked on your pussy lovingly.

“O-Oh, God, fuck,” you moaned.

“I couldn’t resist myself tasting you, angel,” Cyrille murmured, and his lips glistened with your cum as he straightened up again.

“Do I taste good?” you mumbled to him.

“Heavenly,” he assured you. “You know, someday, I’m going to tie you up and make you sit on my mouth and cum on my face for hours, angel. I’m not joking.”  

You gulped a little, both loving the idea and feeling slightly apprehensive at the idea of idea of having to cum for hours and hours. Well, I suppose this is close to that, you thought to yourself. We do fuck for quite a long time. We draw out every session because we know how precious they are. I’m always sore and exhausted afterwards, but it’s so worth it, to be with him like this.

As you were chewing on your thoughts, Cyrille had slid his hands up your back, pushing up your sweater and blouse again. He then grasped your shoulders tightly. Penetrating your cunt again with his cock, Cyrille simultaneously pushed you down on his swollen shaft, anchoring you to him.

You clenched your teeth. “Cy, it feels so- so tender…”

“I know, princess, you’re all soft and warm inside,” Cyrille murmured sympathetically, as he pushed his cock impatiently inside of you. “It’s because you’ve cumming so much.”

You blinked. Did I cum that much? Maybe I did. I do feel exhausted, but to be honest, I… I want to cum again.

“Ah!” Your thoughts cut off as Cyrille gripped your shoulders and holding you down firmly, he thrust into you again. At long last, he was all the way inside of you, with his balls pressed up against your pussyhole. He let out a harsh sigh of relief. Finally, I’m inside my angel, Cyrille groaned in his head. And fuck, she gets so tight right at the end, squeezing my cock like that, she’s just asking to be cummed in at this point. How have I resisted cumming in her before?

Not today, though, he thought to himself fervently. Today, I’ll cum in her over and over again. I want her dripping with my cum.

A small voice whispered in the back of his head, What if she gets pregnant?

She won’t because she’ll cast the spells and I don’t believe she wants children, so the spells will work, Cyrille knew.

What if she gets pregnant anyways?

To this question, Cyrille’s answer was steady, strong, and immediate: Then I drop everything and live with her and protect her with my life.

With that, Cyrille shut off his mind. Finally, and for the first time ever with you, he gave himself over completely to his sexual energy, not holding back, and lost totally in the alluring and dizzying sense of control and heightened pleasure. Your skin was soft precisely because you were meant to be spanked, tugged, groped, and pounded into. The musky, yet sweet scent of your sweat and cum were meant to be drawn out and shared with and tasted by him. The whimpers and cries that came from your mouth were all to be coaxed out by him. Your body was for his pleasure, but so was his for yours. You would submit to him, and he would, in turn, show you pleasure as you’d never known before, pleasure that would leave you a whimpering mess, cumming helplessly all over your cock, perhaps even crying.

“Angel, my beautiful girl,” he promised you, “you’re going to be fucked.”

With that, Cyrille rammed into you, taking full advantage of how wonderfully spread out for him you were atop the boxes.

“F-Fuck!” The word was wrenched from your lips and spat out into the air.

Draped over rough wooden crates, with your spanked ass high in the air, legs splayed out rather helplessly, and hands bound together by ribbon, you clenched your teeth hard as your boyfriend fucked you more roughly than he ever had before. He growled as he took you, unforgivingly pushing himself deep into your sex so as to marry pleasure and pain.

You moaned lowly. Though Cyrille was gripping your shoulders too tightly for you to fall forward completely, you were hanging your head in preparation to receive your “proper” fucking. And he gave it to you.

You whimpered as you felt your entire body shifting quite vigorously on top of the boxes as Cyrille drove his cock deep inside of you. Your head lolled a little with every deep, hard thrust, that you had to receive. You felt a soft, but incessant yank at your shoulder, as Cyrille’s hands on your shoulders were forcing you to fuck him back.

Your lower tummy was starting to burn already, as his cock was so deep inside of you. Your cervix was fast becoming sore, but the feeling of being pounded into so deeply sent butterflies flying of inside the rest of you, making you feel all tingly right to your very toes and fingertips.

Your curls tumbled forward and swayed back and forth, almost bouncing, as Cyrille rutted into you hard and fast, using your tight little cunt as though he owned you.

He was working your body so hard, sexing you so roughly, that you felt like your entire body was made purely for sex - that your pussy was only so tight because it was supposed to be stretched out, that your thighs and ass were so soft and plush and creamy, but only because they were made to be spanked until they were raw and bright red.

The sheer intensity of sensation – of being so roughly fucked and spanked and held down – was overwhelming you, and while there was a familiar wave of deep pleasure rising in your tummy, your heart was also pounding so hard that you could hear it in your ears, and it suddenly occurred to you that you were holding your breath.

Breathe, you reminded yourself, breathe… Uhn! Oh, God, it’s just so deep. I might cry… Broken moans spilled from your mouth as you were doing your best to keep from outright crying.

Cyrille, growling deeply, and in an aggressive way that you’d never heard from him before, suddenly lifted one hand to spank your ass. Wondrously, a spurt of genuine pleasure blossomed in your tummy at the sharp sting on your ass.

Cyrille continued to spank your pink ass a bright, crimson red, leaving you with several overlapping handprints, as he continued to take you hard and fast.

Cyrille, seeing the way your head was tucked down, reached down with one hand. Gripping your curls, he yanked your head back up, forcing you to arch your back. His pulling you up like that unlocked something in you. Though you’d been somewhat quiet so far, with your head down and only a low series of moans and whimpers escaping you, having your head lifted sent fresh air into your deprived lungs, and you suddenly burst out, “C-Cy – F-Fuck – Uhn! Uh, uh, uhn!” Your whole body was rocking back and forth on the crates, and there was such a beautiful feeling bursting forth within your throat, making you cry out, and yet your cry was only an echo of the much more intense and gorgeous feeling between your thighs…

Angel’s so close, Cyrille recognized, breathing quite hard himself. She’s so beautiful like this, all out of her mind with want and sensation. I can tell she doesn’t know what to do with herself. She’s feeling too much, and she’s losing herself – exactly as a submissive should. All she’s aware of feeling is where I touch her – my hands on her, my thighs against hers, and my cock inside of her. All she can see or smell or hear is me, too. She’d try anything for me now, willingly. I know it. I can tell by the way her moans are so needy and lovely, and how her body is responding to mine. Her tummy’s tight with both trying to and trying not to cum at the same time, and her face is so prettily flushed and she’s moaning, fucking moaning like she’s about to cry, when she’s about to cum… Mmm, fuck!

Cyrille felt your cunt clenching on his cock then, begging him to cum, too.

Fuck, I can’t resist her, Cyrille thought in his head.

“Yes,” Cyrille almost snarled at you, fucking you hard enough that his thighs were slapping hard against the back of yours, even though your legs were spread wide open for him. “Take me, take me just like that. Good fucking girl. Mmm, pussy’s so tight, so fucking tight – fuck -!”

“Hah – ah – ah!” Stuttered moans were filling the air, bleeding from your lips in perfect response to Cyrille’s thrusts and growls. “Ah, ah, ah!” Your voice ripped through the air so wantingly. You felt your core tighten intensely, and just then, Cyrille’s cock slammed into right where your core was all wrapped-up – and that was it. That was all you could take.

“Ah -!” Crying out wantonly, your elbows slipped out from you and you fell flat onto the boxes, slipping out of Cyrille’s grasp. You shivered uncontrollably as thick, white creamy cum slowly but steadily dripped from your pussy.

Hands falling onto your thighs, Cyrille gripped your thighs in his hands as fucked you a few times more at his intense pace, but when he saw your cum covering the length of his cock – he couldn’t help himself. He thrust into you again, then stopped, and his high, soft moan broke through his growls. Cyrille’s cum spurt from his cock, hitting up against your cervix and flooding your pussy with his hot liquid.

You moaned weakly, feeling his cum coat your walls and mix with your cum. Panting loudly and still quivering atop the boxes, with your thighs twitching, you felt so loved to have Cyrille’s cum filling up your pussy deep inside you.

“Angel,” Cyrille breathed out, his voice tight with both exhaustion and desire as he emptied the last of his cum inside of you.

“Cy,” you moaned, your voice breaking.

You tried to push yourself up onto your palms to get up to kiss him, but Cyrille kept you pinned down, pressing his hands down on your back.

“Stay down,” he told you. Cyrille slid his cock between your ass cheeks, and pushing your ass cheeks together a little with his hands, he rubbed his cock against your ass, slowly making himself hard enough to take you again.

“Breathe while you can, angel,” Cyrille warned you through his own pants. “You’re going to take me again, so rest while you can.”

You lay there, eyes wide open, as you realized that Cyrille was serious, that he wasn’t done with you, and that he’d be taking you again in a matter of minutes.

You breathed shallowly, feeling Cyrille’s cock beginning to rise again. Yes, you could feel the veins and ridges of his handsome cock sliding in-between your ass cheeks.

“Mm,” Cyrille murmured lowly. “I really should have spanked you before today. Seeing your ass with my handprints all over it – fuck, princess, you are so pretty.”

Listening to his words, you flushed, both with embarrassment and with pleasure. “Cy,” you mumbled. “I told you – I love your hands on me.”

Damn, she says the sweetest things. How does she know exactly how to say? Cyrille wondered. His eyes traced your body, starting from your wet pussy and creamy thighs, then traveling up the roundness of your pretty ass before dipping down across the small of your back to your tight little waist. From there, your soft curves flowed upwards, and with you pressed down against the boxes like this, your breasts were part of your lovely silhouette. And of course, who could fail to mention your unruly curls, and that scar on the back of your neck. Cyrille reached forward and pressed his hand warmly on the back of your neck for a moment. And for that moment, everything was familiar between the two of you again.

“Now,” Cyrille said, once he’d coaxed his cock to be ready for you yet again, which honestly, didn’t take much today, what with the gorgeous view you were giving him. “Show me what a good girl you are for me, angel.” He whispered to you, and somehow, his voice was warm and cold at the same time, “On the floor. And on your knees.”

He stepped back from you, to let you get up. A bit unsteadily, you managed to push yourself up with your still tied-together hands.

Cyrille put his cloak down on the floor for you. You started to sink onto the floor on top of his cloak, but before you did, Cyrille reached over and grasped you by your waist.

“Wait,” he said. “Angel, are you all right?” His eyes softened as he took in your flushed, breathless face, and the slightly dazed expression you had on even now, even after your little break.

“Was that too rough?” Cyrille asked you. “Tell me the truth. You know I can be gentle, princess, if that’s what you want.”

“No, Cy, I’m all right.” Leaning into him, you weakly pushed yourself up onto your tiptoes, and your fingertips fumbled a little at his chest. You wanted to kiss him, and you wished you could put your arms around his neck to pull him down so he’d kiss you.

Cyrille hugged you to him and acquiesced to your want, kissing you fervently and lovingly for a long moment. You breathed out, and a soft smile graced your face.

Cyrille gently touched your chin with his hand. Then, he murmured, “All right. If you’re really all right, then, on your knees, my love, and put your head to the floor.”

“I’m a little messy, though - um, from cum,” you told him. “Do you really want me to present like that for you when I’m already all covered in cum?”

“Yes, angel, that’s exactly why I want you in this position,” Cyrille replied straightforwardly. “I want to see your pussy filled with my cum, and your thighs dripping and painted all over with my cum…”

You blushed, but you nodded. Then, you slowly knelt down onto his cloak before turning around and bending over. You gently lifted your ass into the air for Cyrille to witness your cum-covered cum, and to fuck it again. You supposed that you would be on your hands and knees otherwise, but with your hands tied together, you had no choice except to put your face down against the floor. You tried to put your hands against the floor, but they ended up pressing against your breasts uncomfortably, so instead, you opted to reach down and push your hands between your legs, just below your pussy, and you held onto your thighs, sweetly holding yourself open for Cyrille to take you as his.

Cyrille’s heart leapt into his throat when he saw you sink down onto the floor and give him such a gorgeous view. You slid your head over just a bit so you could look down at him curiously, wondering if he was going to take you. Your eyes were so lovely, and then, there you were, waiting for him, all propped up and spread open so willingly for him.  

Fuck, she’s stunning, Cyrille thought, and it could not be plainer that she wants to be fucked hard tonight. Just look at her, wanting it so badly, setting herself up so all I need to do is enter her and fill up that tight pussy. He swallowed hard. Needless to say, his cock twitched with intense anticipation when he saw your puffy little pussy waiting for him, already drenched in white cream and glistening cum, and waiting to be taken, pounded, and cummed in yet again. The sight was even more beautiful because of how red your ass, plastered in handprints thanks to Cyrille.

You were his woman, his angel, and Cyrille was going to make sure you never forgot him, never forgot tonight. No, he thought, I’m going to fuck you so hard that you can’t walk tomorrow. And you’ll have to think of me every time you sit down for the following week.

And when you dream at night, I’ll be the only man you ever dream of, giving you pleasure in your mind as you work your little fingers against yourself. Because you’ll know that no one else can do what I do to your body and your mind, liberate you entirely from any sense of restraint until you’re cumming shamelessly, over and over again.

To do so, Cyrille knew that he had to drive your body to its very limits – stretch your pussy out as much as he could and then pound it – absolutely wreck you and finally, when you were ruined and sobbing, he’d fill you with his cum for you to remember him by.

Yes, Cyrille thought savagely, my princess will look so good like that, crying and stuffed with cum. Mm, it’s all I want, to see her in such a state. And I’m sure now that she wants it, too. Just look at that pretty face of hers, with her bright, curious eyes, wondering how I’ll ruin her, and then there’s that perky little ass waving in the air for me. She’s so adorable, wanting cock to pound her little hole.

With that, Cyrille fell onto his knees and lining himself up, he grasped your thighs on the other side, wrapping his large hands against the front of your slim thighs before penetrating you again.

“Oh,” you breathed out.

“You’re being fucked so much today, aren’t you?” Cyrille murmured to you.

“Yes…” you sighed out happily.

“Does it feel good?”

“Mhm,” you mumbled. “Cy, I love you…”

Cyrille laughed lightly. “Angel, you’re drunk on cock, aren’t you?”

“Um…” You thought about this for a second before you gave in and nodded a little, nodding “yes” both to his question and to the wonderful feeling of his cock sinking into you once again.

Cyrille outwardly scoffed at you, but he couldn’t deny that your admission made his cock throb inside of you.

You shivered and moaned lowly. “You’re so hard, Cy, even though you just came…”

“I know I am, princess. And it’s all for you.”

“For me?”

“Yes, for you. You know what you do to me, angel,” he whispered to you, and his voice was very serious. “You know –“

“Uhn,” you breathed out, as he started to thrust into you.

“ – if I had it my way, you would always -“

“Uhn!”

“ – be filled with my cum.”

He thrust harder, hard enough that your ass bounced off of him when he pushed into you. He moaned and leaned forward slightly on his knees, stretching you out as he forced his cock all the way in.

“Uhn!” Your moans were ramping up in how desperate they were, as Cyrille fucked his cock back inside of you.

“You know that what you do to me is almost cruel,” Cyrille whispered, and the intensity of his voice made you suddenly realize that Cyrille, in his own way, was actually confessing to you. Somehow, despite how much in love you were with him, you were breaking his heart. You were leaving him, for you would never accept any future where you aligned with Voldemort. And of course, it was his choice not to follow you, but still, you made an already difficult path a truly heart-breaking one for him. And still – he loved you, and he would spend all the nights he could with you until the two of you were forced to part.

The pain of possibly losing you again made Cyrille want this night to last forever, and he could no longer tamp down his need (a need he usually managed to keep hidden away) to possess you tonight. You felt his hands gripping your waist hard. At first, it simply felt warm and lovely to have him hold you that way, but he kept squeezing harder and harder as he pushed his cock inside of you more and more intensely.

You whimpered, for it was getting hard to breathe, and in your position of head down, ass up, the blood was already rushing to your head. Your mind was quickly starting to spin. You clutched on tighter to your own thighs and focused on the decidedly physical feeling of your boyfriend fucking you.

Cyrille groaned in satisfaction as he plunged his cock back into your cum-covered cunt. His satisfaction grew more and more as he fucked you harder and harder. His fingers were gripping your waist hard enough to leave bruises. Not to mention, your own nails were digging into the softness of your thighs. As your cum from before spread everywhere, making a mess of you both, a sharp, slapping sound rang out in time with your whimpers, and the the sharp sounds tangled with the soft sounds, until both echoed in the spacious chamber of the glass boathouse where the two of you were fucking.

Cyrille’s hips jerked back and forth forcefully, almost violently, as his cock was railing into your beautiful little pussy, presented up in the air, waiting for him and only him to claim you.

Your ass and thighs were stinging all over, having been spanked and pounded into all night long, and yet, nothing could compare to the relentless pounding of in and out, in and out, in and out, right between your legs, thrusting so incredibly deep inside of you that you felt as though Cyrille was going to split you right open.

Yes, you moaned to yourself. He’s so deep inside me. His cock is just pounding my poor little pussy. I’m wet, but I’m still being spread open so, so much. I feel like he’s going to split me open. Fuck, fuck, fuck…

“Cy,” you barely managed to choke out, “you’re – you’re taking me s-so hard.”

“And you’re still so fucking tight,” Cyrille hissed at you, without a touch of sympathy in his voice.

You whimpered. “C-Cy, please…”

Letting go of your thighs, Cyrille reached down with one hand and shoved his hand between your thighs to massage your clit roughly.

“Oh God, don’t!” you begged. “Don’t touch me! I’ll cum again!”

Cyrille smirked. “You make it sound like a threat, angel. When will you understand that I love seeing you cum? You’ll cum for me, angel. I don’t care that you’re embarrassed, or that you don’t want to show me how you squirt or cream. I want your cum, and short of you using your safeword, you know you’re going to have to give it to me, princess. Nothing tastes as good as your cum, and nothing feels better than when I’m fucking you right through your orgasm, pounding that spasming little pussy. Mmm, just thinking about it makes me hard as all hell. See what you do to me? The least you can do for me is to cum.”

“Cy,” you said breathlessly, embarrassed by how openly he talked about how you did squirt and cream for him. And you weren’t sure how many more times you could cum tonight. Your pussy was being used so roughly and so many times tonight… “But I’ve already – already cum so much,” you told Cyrille. “If you k-keep making me cum, I’m not gonna – gonna last – I – I – ah!”

Cyrille, who had briefly paused to hear you speak to him, resumed fucking your pussy and roughly massaging your clit.

“U-Uhn!” you moaned out loudly, as his fingers and cock drove you into yet another cumming session.

When Cyrille felt your pussy walls squeeze his cock, he quickly pulled out. Then, spreading out three fingers wide to stretch out your pussy hole, he violently finger fucked you as you came, making you squirt again.

You gasped as you felt your pussy being stretched as you came, and your face flushed a bright, embarrassed pink color as your cum was just squirting out all over the place again. It felt even more intense than being fucked through your orgasm, and Cyrille was drawing out as much cum from you as possible with his incessant finger-fucking, loving the way your cum was drenching his hand and wrist, and then dripping onto the floor.

“Fuck,” he groaned appreciatively. “I want you to cum again tonight. And again, and again. You cum so beautifully. I love it when you cum so messy, angel.”

“Y-You do?” you said, surprised. But he said before that he wanted me to cum all pretty and neat… I guess he was just teasing me, and he really does like this more… Thank Merlin, you breathed out a sigh of relief.

But the relief disappeared very, very quickly. For you felt Cyrille’s fingers inch upwards from your pussy and then, he fingered your asshole, which was a completely new sensation for you.

“C-Cy!” you cried out, startled. “N-No, I’ve n-never -“

“Is your ass virgin, my love?” Cyrille asked you, running his finger over your asshole before pressing down on it just slightly. Meanwhile, he thrust into you again, wanting you to keep his cock warm in your pussy for him as he considered whether or not to take your ass tonight.

You cried out, starting to become overstimulated. “Cy!” was all you could manage to cry out.

“If your pussy’s this tight, I can only imagine what your ass might feel like,” Cyrille muttered. Then, he groaned at the very thought of it. Princess’ ass, violating her little virgin hole, claiming it for the first time, as I should have claimed all of her for the first time… Fuck, I want her so bad. I want to feel her cum from being fucked in the ass. She’ll probably cream. Mmm, God, what I wouldn’t give to make her take me in the ass right this moment.

But you murmured out feverishly, “Cy! C-Cy! P-Please!”

Cyrille hesitated. Then, he asked you softly, “You don’t want me to take your ass just yet, do you, princess?”

You lay there, dizzy, and thought about it for a second. I’m scared. It might hurt. But… he would be my first. I want him to be my first. There’s no one else I would trust. Still…

“Um, m-maybe just a finger?” you blurted out, as a compromise. “But I think – I might be too tight…”

“I bet you are, princess,” Cyrille agreed, his mind groaning again with want. “All right, princess, and remember, you have your safeword.”

You nodded, swallowing hard.

Cyrille slowly began to insert his finger into your asshole, though it was an extremely tight fit, even for his one finger.

“Nngh…” You shut your eyes tightly to bear the strange of the new sensation.

You felt his finger starting to push deeper.

“Ah! C-Cy! Ah…!” Your nerves were not helping you whatsoever in how tight you were. Turning your head, you buried your face against Cyrille’s cloak underneath you and you sobbed. You were whimpering, and you didn’t even know it. It’s just so tight, uhn…

Cyrille quickly withdrew his finger. Leaning down, he pressed kisses all down your back and murmured, “That’s all right. Let’s not go there, angel.”

“No, I – I didn’t use my safeword,” you said softly. “I’m just nervous.”

“I know you are. So, we won’t,” Cyrille replied to you. “I’ll use your safeword for you: Raven. There.”

“That’s – That’s not how it works,” you said feebly.

Cyrille chuckled. “And the student becomes the master, does she?”

“Don’t worry, my love,” he assured you. “Your pussy can take all my cum tonight, hm? That’ll be satisfying enough. My angel, my girl…”

“Y-Yes,” you agreed, speaking as best as you could with your face pressed against the floor. You moaned for him, “P-Please, cum in your girl. Please… f-fill me with your cum. It’s all I w-want. Please.”

“Fuck, you sound so lovely, angel,” Cyrille praised you. “I love when you moan for me.”

Cyrille started to fuck your pussy again, hands on the sides of your ass to guide you down against him as his cock went deep inside of you. You moaned beautifully, hips bucking for a moment, shoulders straining, and abs appearing visibly for just a moment as you felt him delving inside of you, creating a lovely burn inside of you, one that quickly crested into pleasure.

Your sweater and shirt had fallen so far down your torso that Cyrille could see the soft undersides of your breasts and your straining shoulder blades. For a moment, he imagined wings bursting out of your shoulders. I suppose it is a sin, Cyrille thought wryly, to treat an angel like this. To tie her down and fuck her until her wings are twitching from having her pussy railed…

Cyrille fucked you a bit harder now, and he let out a soft breath as he murmured, “You’re so fucking delicate. I could break you, angel…”

He truly could, and he knew it. He could turn your wings back into feathers, shatter your glassy eyes into mosaics glittering on the floor, disintegrate your soft heart into rose petals… You’d be nothing but the wind to him, a memory once more, after today…

Cyrille sighed and watched you for a moment, your wet, juicy pussy taking his long, curved cock, while you quivered on the floor, in a lewd position you’d never be caught dead in for another man, but one in which you found yourself willingly propping yourself up for Cyrille, even putting your little hands on your thighs and then up to your pussy to spread your pretty lips apart, inviting Cyrille to fuck your cunt until he came in it…

I wish I could just marry you. Then, I’d tie you to our bed and cover you with kisses before I ruin you day and night. You’d never, ever question who you belong to, or who I belong to, Cyrille thought. But no, our paths are diverging so wildly in a matter of a few short weeks. Angel, you may never be mine again… So, just for tonight, be mine. Let me possess you, and you can have me – all of my cum, all of my desire for you… just for tonight.

Cyrille closed his eyes. Then, he started ramming his cock into you hard enough that your ass was bouncing in the air against him as he thrust inside of you hard and fast, making your wet little pussy even wetter until he was outright wrecking your poor pussy with his cock. Cyrille, who had been on his knees, put one leg up to give him just a little bit more height, and then he fucked down into you, angling himself to hit you very, very deep.

Loud whimpers rang out as you were subject to this position and angle in which Cyrille’s cock was claiming every bit of your pussy as his. Then, your whimpers become hoarse enough to sound strangled, as though he were choking you. He wasn’t, of course. Rather, you could only moan so much before your voice gave out…

Hazily, you recognized that the side of your face – mostly your cheek and cheekbone - was being rubbed pink and raw from shifting so much on the floor as Cyrille rocked hard and fast into you. He accentuated every few thrusts with a hard snap of his hips, driving deep inside of you to hit up against your core. Every time he did, you winced a little, but it still felt so good knowing how deep inside of you he was. You loved knowing that the man of your dreams, your beautiful, though secret, lover, was taking you so passionately, consummating your dream-like, seemingly non-existent relationship, in an unmistakably real and physical way.

Most days in the castle, you spent all of your time ignoring each other, pretending to be total strangers. No one knew that you spent your secret moments together like this, with him thrusting deep inside of you, and you taking it all, and though it might have seemed silly to others, you were so proud of yourself for being able to be the girl Cyrille could take and secretly fuck for his pleasure. You wanted, more than anything, to be the woman he cummed in every single night, bedding you as his, marking you as his, taking you as undeniably his, his, his…

Far from feeling demeaning, it made you feel like you were loved and safe, and it made you feel braver to know that you were his woman, and that he was yours too, equally so. You knew that if anyone ever hurt Cyrille, you would rip them apart before they could even blink. To be loved was not to feel lesser, but to feel greater. But for now, in this secret little world of yours, he was the one keeping you safe between his arms, even while he devoured your body ravenously by claiming your mouth with kisses, squeezing your waist with his large hands, punishing your ass with spanks, and fucking your pussy with his cock. Even your eyes were his, as he kept you totally mesmerized. Even now, with your face pressed against the floor, you’d managed to turn your head so you could look down at him and watch Cyrille, with his cut, sleek body, rail you from behind. Your voice, too, was his, as he repeatedly managed to push out strained moans and wanting whimpers from you. Even James had never made you whine this way, for you didn’t really like to hear yourself in this manner – all delicate-sounding and aching, because it made you feel like you were revealing too much of yourself. But with Cyrille, it wasn’t a question – if you didn’t make those sounds, if you didn’t release the incredible tension flaring up between your legs through your voice in some way, you’d lose your mind entirely. Those sounds were a compromise, to be honest, as was your begging for him.

Right now was a perfect example of that. He was fucking you so hard you had gone all dizzy, and your eyes slid blearily from your lover’s abs and from the vision of his dragon tattoo creeping around his side, down to the stone floor. Because you were in the boathouse, where the middle of the floor was cut away entirely and filled with water from the lake, you caught the shimmering waves in the moonlight splashing gently up against the boat docked inside, as well as the waves cresting up against the cement boundaries that contained the water.

You found yourself looking jealously at the water, for it was cresting in a softer and slower rhythm by far, than the intense, hard-paced, and absolutely punishing rhythm in which Cyrille was pounding your pussy.

It’s beyond stretching me out. I feel like I’m going to rip open, you thought, exhausted, but still trying your very best to withstand the burning between your thighs. And yet… the way his thick cock is filling me up, all swollen and like, and pushing against my pussy walls, opening me up, and then hitting so, so, deep as to make me shudder, it all – it all feels so good, so wonderful, to be taken like this by him. I never want him to stop. As long as it’s him, as long as it’s Cyrille, I love to take it all.

“L-Love you,” you mumbled out blearily. “Love you, C-Cy…”

Cyrille groaned loudly in response to your tender words. Then, gripping your ass hard enough that his nails sank into your already bright red flesh, Cyrille pushed his hips forward hard, and he slammed his cock as hard as he could against your cervix. You moaned weakly, but for the first time, Cyrille’s moan overtook yours. His head had tilted back, and his sculpted, fine chest expanded as he breathed in hard. His abs were also straining quite hard, tight-lined on his slender body, and own thighs and obliques were burning as he worked your body, putting his all in pounding you with his hard, stiff cock, over and over again.

“U-Uhn!” Your cries were becoming so feeble, as you could hardly draw breath, but they were clearly the most desperate ones yet.

“Do you need to use your safeword?” Cyrille asked you, his voice raspy.

You shook your head as best as you could, though it was difficult with your cheek pressed up against the floor.

Having received your assurance, Cyrille took no mercy on you, still violently taking your pussy as his, pushing his swollen cock into your tender cunt, reveling in how wet and warm you were, and loving at how, in your panicked squirming, your pussy was endlessly clenching down on his cock. You really didn’t know what to do with yourself. Your hands, still tied together, were scrabbling uselessly against his cloak on the floor. You were breathing shallowly, your eyes no longer making sense of anything you were seeing, not even the waves – and yet, your pussy was dripping wet, so beautifully soaked, and weeping with cum, and still taking cock, still taking a rough pounding, still letting him fuck and fuck and fuck you senseless…

“Ah – Ah, ah, ah!” Your legs gave out, and suddenly, you were lying flat on the floor, on top of Cyrille’s cloak.

Cyrille kept fucking you, lowering himself to stay with you, even as you fell onto the floor. Your hips and thighs bounced off of the hard cement floor as Cyrille continued to drive his cock deep into your aching pussy, pounding into your tight cunt, which was still gripping on his cock enough that your hips were being pulled up and then slammed back down with the force of his cock thrusting in and out of you.

“Ah, ah, ah!” Endless moans were dripping from your lips. Your eyes were tightly shut, and your bound hands were curled up tightly against your chest as you took Cyrille’s cock between your legs, even as your mind was starting to see stars and blank out.

This – This is pretty close to my dream, you thought hazily.

You felt Cyrille’s sharp jaw dig slightly into your shoulder and his cheek press against your curls as he lay on top of you to fuck you hard against the floor.

“Cy,” you panted, feeling both safe and suffocated under his weight “Cy, oh, fuck, ah, ah, ah…!”

Cyrille groaned right into your ear, “Princess, you’re so fucking wet.”

It was true. Soft squelches sounded out as your pussy was so wet in taking him. But it was hardly your fault. Any girl who was taking cock this hard and for this long would be gushing, you knew. So, you whimpered at the somewhat unfair accusation, not realizing how much Cyrille loved it. If you were wet, he was making you feel good, and he wanted that for you, and was so proud of that. And as for how good you were making him feel- well…

You gasped as Cyrille suddenly yanked you up in one swift pull and turned you over before pushing you down roughly so that he could take you in missionary position. He wanted to see your lovely face as he came in you – which was soon.

Rushing to be inside of you before he started cumming, Cyrille shoved your thighs apart and thrust back inside of you.

“Uhn!” You moaned as he pushed into you. Your thighs tensed hard. At once, the sounds of hard, rough fucking rang loud and clear as Cyrille took you and claimed you as his own, over and over again. His hands were on either side of your shoulders, meaning that his long arms were stretched out on either side of you, and his own shoulders and back were straining as he worked his hips into you quite intensely. Your delicate body, quivering underneath him, was at its limit, straining and squirming to take all of his brunt and force, and your poor pussy was very much overstimulated with so much cock relentlessly pounding away at it.

Your curls were in a complete mess, flowing all over the floor, and your chest was heaving up and down. You couldn’t breathe properly, for every time you tried, your body was rocked by another thrust that sent tingles up your spine and made your brain and heart stutter. “C-Cy, I c-can’t-!” Your words cut off as your eyes rolled back in your head. You were still obediently holding your thighs open, but they were shaking uncontrollably, and as your whole body was jolting with each thrust, so your hips were jerking up and down in the air.

Cyrille growled and ordered you, “Hold it for just a little longer, angel. Cum with me. I’m almost there, I swear. Just -“

“Cy, I c-can’t, I’m s-slipping,” you stammered out. Stars were beginning to burst in your mind. The ones in your tummy were straining to hold their light in.

“Cy!” you nearly cried out. You wanted to cry. Please let me cum! Please, please, please! I can’t – I can’t hold it back anymore!

“You will hold it, princess, or I’ll have to punish you,” Cyrille warned you.

Your only response was a strangled, “P-Please!”

Cyrille gave you a series of short, hard thrusts, letting his cock slam up into your core and then holding it there for a breath before giving you another extremely rough thrust.

“Uhn!” Your cries were being ripped from your throat. “Uh! Uh! Uhn!”

You started to sob. It felt so good, but it was just so much, so much for one pussy to handle... It was so brutal, but so delicious. Were you supposed to cum, or cry…? You weren’t sure anymore. All you knew was that your lover was so deep inside you that you were literally seeing stars, with bright spots appearing in your hazy vision. Your toes clenched hard in your shoes and your hands, still tied together, clasped tightly with one another.

I can’t take it, you thought to yourself. Again, whether this meant you were about to cry or cum, you weren’t sure.

Just as you thought that, Cyrille’s growl rumbled from his throat and then ripped through the air savagely. “Cum,” he commanded breathlessly, but authoritatively. “Cum with me. Now.”

It was such a sexy, low, dominant voice that you couldn’t help but melt in his arms and do exactly as he said. You both came together, gasping and shivering together as only lovers could do.

“C-Cy,” you breathed out, in a wavering voice that promised tears.

“Angel?” Cyrille panted out quietly. “You came so much… Are you all right?”

“S-Stay…” Your voice dropped off. You meant to say ‘stay in me,’ but you couldn’t finish your sentence.

But it was all right, for Cyrille knew what you meant anyways. And for once, Cyrille listened and didn’t pull out. Instead, he stayed buried deep inside of you and filled you up all the way with his cum.

You were moaning softly, loving that he was finally giving you what you wanted tonight, and not pulling away from you. “Thank you,” you mumbled softly, truly happy.

“Mm, you love taking cum, don’t you?” Cyrille whispered, looking down to see you all starry-eyed and rosy-cheeked. You’d managed to wrap your trembling legs around his waist, wishing he’d cum in you without pulling out, and he’d done that for you.

“If it’s yours…” you corrected him.

Cyrille bent down and kissed you deeply. The both of you tasted each other sweetly, trading kisses and breaths, as Cyrille gradually softened inside of you.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Finally, the two of you had relaxed a little and weren’t shivering like mad together.

“Angel…” Cyrille breathed out.

“Cy,” you whispered against his mouth, completely exhausted.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You shook your head.

“Did I frighten you?”

You shook your head again.

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yes, or I will be…”

At this, Cyrille’s brow furrowed.

“… if you give me another kiss.”

Cyrille’s expression broke into one of relief. “Every time you ask me for a kiss, angel, my heart goes into a tailspin, you know.”

You laughed lightly. “Even after you’ve fucked me all night?”

“Especially after I’ve fucked you all night,” he corrected you.

You hummed happily as he leaned in to kiss you. Soft lips married soft lips for a moment, brushing against each other lovingly. As Cyrille closed his eyes, his long eyelashes brushed against your cheeks.

When you parted, Cyrille pressed his forehead to yours. He murmured, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Why did you ask to be my submissive tonight?” Cyrille wondered. “You were right in that I was feeling vulnerable, and I’m grateful that you were trying to pull me out of that. But, you must have had your own reasons. So, tell me, why?”

You hesitated. How do I even begin to explain the sadness I feel in knowing that I’m going to lose him again after graduation? And how do I begin to explain my own version of possessiveness over him, that I want to be his best lover, knowing full well that I have no idea what it really means to be a submissive or whatever… And even if I could explain, I don’t want to say these things out loud. It means too much.

You shook your head as you tried your best to hit that balance between being honest and being delicate, “I just wanted to feel that I’m yours, and that you’re mine.”

“You know that both of those things are true,” Cyrille said, frowning a little. “Do you still doubt our relationship?”

“No,” you said quickly. “Well… Not now, I mean. Not while I have you here with me. But we might… not be together again for a while, and I don’t want to forget you again. I already know I’ll miss you. So what I wanted, what I truly wanted, and what you gave me tonight, was to feel you make love to me so intensely that when I close my eyes on some night without you, I can remember the feeling of you deep inside me, of you loving me…”

Cyrille’s eyes tightened. He suddenly understood exactly what you meant. Angel’s talking about our future together… Well, more accurately, how we don’t have a future together.

“I see. So, that’s why you asked to be my submissive tonight,” Cyrille realized.

You nodded. “Yes…”

Cyrille sighed a little. How do I reassure her of my love for her, especially when I’m feeling so uncertain myself? Truthfully, I’m terrified. That Mark on my arm… What have I done? But Cyrille forced himself to be braver. Maybe I can’t promise any future, he thought, but I can reassure her of my feelings for her now. At least, I can try.

“Angel, I don’t -” Cyrille swallowed. “I don’t know exactly how to say this, but…”

“But what…?” you prompted. “You can tell me anything, Cyrille.”

“Well,” he said softly, “I suppose, what I mean is that – I love you.”

“And I’m glad that we got to do this – to make love with this dynamic. I think it was the right thing to do tonight. But truly, angel, we don’t have to go down this path if you don’t want to. Submissive, dominant, whatever the hell you want to call yourself and explore – It doesn’t matter to me. You’re perfect for me. The point is that I want to be yours, and I am trying very, very hard to make you happily mine…”

It was as close to a marriage proposal as you would ever get.

“I’m yours,” you assured him. Your voice dropped to a soft whisper as you murmured to him lovingly, “My Lord.”

“My Queen,” he murmured back. He reached down and at long last, he untied the ribbon around your wrists. He brought your hand up and kissed the back of your hand.

“That first night you came back to me, you had a ribbon on your wrist then, too,” Cyrille remembered. “I tied it back on for you, to hide the mark I’d left on your wrist. I was afraid you’d wake up and forget me again.”

As he spoke, his lips slowly traced down the back of your hand to the inside of your wrist again. You felt his lips suck and press hard against your wrist once more.

You breathed in, a little sharply, as you felt him leave his mark on your wrist. Cyrille gently tied the ribbon back just around the one wrist, to leave your hands free. You reached up and cupping his handsome face in both of your hands, you kissed him. Then, just wanting to lie with him, you sank down against him and curled up on his chest. Cyrille wrapped his arms around you to hold you close. You reached up and grasped his forearms. As you did, unknowingly, your fingers pressed over the Dark Mark on the inside of Cyrille’s arm. Cyrille let out a quiet breath and stared up at the ceiling of the boathouse, which, being pure glass, caught the light starting to peek over the horizon in the most beautiful way – like watercolors playing with golden light.

“We have to go back,” you mumbled. “It’s nearly dawn.”

“Yes, we do,” Cyrille agreed, and he sighed. He gave your forehead another soft kiss. “How are you feeling?”

“Really good,” you told him, to his surprise. Seeing his confusion, you laughed lightly as you said, “I’m sure I’ll wake up sore all over. I’ll be cursing you in the morning, Cyrille Lestrange, mark my words. But for now, I feel like I’m in my best condition. It’s like after hard exercise, you know? Like my body has gotten rid of anything wearisome, and is filled with good things…”

“Filled with good things,” Cyrille smirked, as he thought of how you were still filled with his cum.

“Mhm,” you agreed, smiling as you shared his reference.

“Well,” he whispered deviously, “let’s see how long you can hold on to this ‘good thing.’”

The both of you got up and dressed. Then, after smacking your ass very lightly, Cyrille Lestrange sent you back panty-less and still stuffed with his cum, all the way up to Gryffindor tower.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Still full of your lover’s thick, white cum, you fell into your bed, hid your blushing face in your hands, and smiled beautifully as you fell off to sleep. The night had been so perfect that you managed to forget about the future for a moment, and just dream of fairytales and happy endings.

Perhaps it was strange that being fucked to tears and cummed in countless times was what made you believe in fairytales again, but then again, you were a Rosier and he was a Lestrange – was it really so strange that your language of love slipped into possession as much as protection? As it was, in life, there are nights where angels win, and other nights where demons win. Tonight, on your last night together with Cyrille, the demons won out. And that was exactly as it should be.

#light and dark #cyrille lestrange #marauders #marauders era #harry potter imagine #harry potter smut #fanfiction #fanfic

[fortisfiliae]

Promised Part 5 - Tom Riddle x reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

Summary: In this story, Tom didn’t grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader’s sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Disclaimer: Please be aware that I don’t condone any of this in real life.

Warnings: Arranged marriage

Word count: 2.5k

Part 5 - Making believe

The news about your fight with Tom had spread across Hogwarts quicker than you had thought was possible. Three days had passed and you were sure even the teachers knew about it by now. And everyone seemed to know more about it than you did. 

You had heard stories about you hexing Tom in the hallways, about him threatening you there, about you almost drowning yourself in the lake, about Benjamin trying to kiss you, about you trying to kiss Benjamin. The list was endless. And none of it was true.

The way people looked at you made you angry to a degree where you had to control yourself not to smack them. Your anger was also fueled by the fact that Tom had not apologised yet. Three days. Feeling as long as three years when the whole school seems to watch your every move while you are waiting for your future husband to make up his mind.

Those three words alone made your blood boil. Your future husband. Who certainly was the most conceited, hot-headed, mistrusting bastard on earth. Who you had agreed to marry for your sister. Who thought you would cheat on him, in this imaginary relationship, on the first chance you got. With Benjamin Hilt... Maybe he was also the daftest future husband on earth.

But nonetheless, you wondered far too often when he would finally walk up to you and apologise. You had even considered apologising to him just so you wouldn’t have to ignore him anymore. But that thought hadn’t lasted longer than a minute. He had to learn his lesson.

Tom’s friends seemed awfully aware as well. Although Avery and Lestrange stayed out of your way, some others made you feel like you were constantly observed. Almost as if they were his spies, telling him where he could go to avoid you. Tossers. 

The only person keeping you sane was Camille. She knew the truth and shut down every rumour that came to her ears. She had also tried to talk to Tom, much to your dismay. But he had ignored her completely. 

“Still no news on the fiancé front?” Camille asked when you sat with her in the courtyard. 

“Don’t call him that,” you answered. 

“Sorry,” she said but smiled. “I’m sure he’ll talk to you soon.”

“You think so? I’m not so sure. And I don’t really care.”

Camille laid her hand on your shoulder. “You don’t care, huh?”

“I don’t.”

“Oh well… You talk about it an awful lot for someone who doesn’t.”

“You started it this time,” you grinned. Changing the subject seemed appropriate. She was right. “Do you want to study together around 5? In the library?”

“Sure. I still haven’t done the homework for Charms.”

“Me neither.”

You watched the people around the courtyard. They looked comfortable. Cosy with their scarfs on. Carefree, wandering around and talking to their friends. You wondered if you looked like them too. Or if they could see how bitter you felt. How uncomfortable and tired. If your poor attempt of faking indifference was enough to deceive them. The bench where you sat with Tom three days ago was right next to you. You had specifically chosen not to sit there but at the one next to it. Not that anyone had a clue, not even Camille knew which exact bench it was. But it felt good to avoid it. 

One of Tom’s friends, Evan Rosier, walked by. Another spy, another rat, running back to the nest, to tell him where not to go. He locked eyes with you for a brief moment but retracted ever so quickly and went inside. 

“It’s cold,” Camille said and pulled your gaze away from the other students. She rubbed her hands together and crossed her arms. “Want to leave?”

“Just a few more minutes,” you said and took a deep breath. The cold air didn’t hurt. It was sharp and fresh, it kept you awake.

“Okay,” she answered and laid her head on your shoulder. “Look, Ben and his friends are over there.”

They sat on the ground next to the stone walls, about fifty feet away. They didn’t seem cold either. Some of them had their coats open, their scarfs only hanging down loosely from their necks.

“They’re strange,” you mumbled.

“I know, right? Like outcasts. But cool ones.”

“Cool? I’m not sure about that.”

Camille laughed. “I don’t know. They seem so happy all the time. As if nothing mattered to them really.”

“If that was true, Ben would know how to mind his own business.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

You turned your head away from them, looking to your left where you heard footsteps coming your way. And indeed, someone was approaching you. The person’s shoes seemed oddly familiar and all your muscles tensed when you looked up and found out who they belonged to. Tom.

Camille noticed your movements and looked over as well. Tom stopped in front of you, not saying anything, just looking from you to Camille and back to you.

“I, um,” Camille cleared her throat. “I think I’m gonna go inside. I’m freezing.”

You nodded, watched her leave, then looked up at Tom again and waited for him to say something. 

But he didn’t. He just looked back at you, or through you maybe, until he finally sat down next to you.

He sat there, staring straight ahead in silence, even though you gave him every chance to speak. The wind tousled his hair in those everlasting minutes of curiosity. What was he doing here, if he didn’t want to talk? 

People around you had noticed as well. They were looking over in turns and proceeded to whisper to each other. Like you wouldn’t notice.

“I have something for you,” Tom suddenly said and fiddled something out of the inner pocket of his coat. “My grandfather sent an owl.”

Seriously? Three days of silence and he came up to present you a letter? From Marvolo Gaunt of all people. The nerve of him.

“And?” you asked.

“And what?”

“Don’t you think you should say something first? Like an apology?”

He sighed and looked away again. As if he had known you wouldn’t let him get away with it. As if he had dreaded that moment.

“Yes,” he then said, so quietly you could hardly hear him. “I’m sorry for how I behaved. That I haven’t trusted you and that I didn’t let you speak.”

He looked like it hurt him physically to apologise. But it wasn’t enough. 

You turned towards him, watching him staring into the distance. “Now look me in the eyes and say it again.”

Tom turned his head your way, his brows furrowed, eyes looking into yours, filled with such anger, making you regret what you had said. You couldn’t tell if he would rather stand up and leave, or curse you right then and there for what you asked of him.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated nevertheless.

“Thank you,” you answered and wondered if you should comment on how long it had taken him. Better not.

Tom pointed to the letter in your hands. “Now read it.”

The parchment was old and smelled damp and mouldy.

“Tom,

I was informed by an unknown source that people at Hogwarts are doubting the authenticity of your relationship with your fiancée. 

Someone sent a letter and implied they would notify the ministry about it if we wouldn’t cancel the wedding ourselves. 

Let me remind you two, that our plan must go through. If it won’t, the little one will pay for it.

Improve.

Marvolo Gaunt”

Breathing felt harder all of a sudden. There was a lump in your throat that burned and stung right down into your lungs. If the ministry would doubt the validity of your relationship, they could definitely null and void the marriage before it even happened. Which would be fatal.

“Merlin’s sake,” you sighed. “Who would do that? Threaten your grandfather...”

“You don’t know?” Tom asked and looked over to the group where Ben sat. “I got a suspect.”

“Of course… And what are we going to do about it?”

Tom took the letter and folded it back together, not taking his eyes off Ben. “Let me handle him.”

“What will you do?”

“Nothing too bad,” he said. “Possibly.”

“And how does Marvolo expect us to improve?” you asked. “We can’t change what people think about us.”

“Make them believe. It’s not that hard to fool people.”

He was right. Tom might have been a prick, but he certainly wasn’t a fool. If rumours about your fight spread so quickly, rumours about you making peace would spread even faster. 

“Hold my hand,” you said.

“What?”

“We have to make them believe. Better start right away. There are lots of people around. Maybe we can even trick Ben and his friends.”

He restrained for quite a bit, then ever so slowly reached for your hand, still not looking at you. His skin was warm from being inside, almost hot against yours. He felt stiff and mechanical, as if he didn’t know how to behave. It was a bit uncomfortable, having your hand lying in someone else’s, who didn’t really hold it but simply let it lay there.

You adjusted your fingers and put them right against his, which made him turn towards you. His pulse pumped softly against the tips of your fingers. It was faster than you had thought and made you smile. Tom didn’t. But he looked at you, differently.

His brows weren’t furrowed anymore, the anger from before completely washed away. His eyes were open, studying your face with a deadpan stare until he squinted.

“You’re cold,” he said and brought his other hand around the back of yours, now properly holding it with both of his.

“I’ve been here for a bit,” you told him and looked around, letting his unfamiliar warmth spread through your veins. “I think it’s working.”

“Hm?”

“The people. They’re watching.”

Tom took a glance, his fingers twitching as he did. The other students turned away one by one when his gaze neared them. Even Ben and his friends had noticed but ducked their heads now too. 

Seemed that making people believe was actually easy. 

“And he really held your hand? Wow. Even I wouldn’t have guessed that,” Camille whispered when you told her about what had happened.

“I know, me neither,” you said while opening the Charms textbook. 

“And I wasn’t there to see it. Damn it. I knew I should have peeked around a corner.”

“Gross,” you joked and looked around if anyone could hear you. 

The library was quite full, but you had found a desk at the far end, where no one would bug the two of you.

Studying with Camille was, as unbelievable as it may sound, one of your favourite parts of school. It brought tranquillity and effect together. Feeding your brain with new information and sharing it with one another was a sensation you got nowhere else. You had done it since first grade and it had worked well ever since. No matter how dry, or tricky the material was, you had always found a way to remember. You were great together. Balanced. 

And she brought chocolate, every time. Major plus.

It had gotten dark outside a while ago when you finished the Charms essay. Only then you noticed how tired your eyes were from the dim light. Camille had completed hers two chocolate bars ago and was waiting for you by the window. 

“Done,” you sighed. “Finally.”

“Great. Let’s go then,” she said and started packing up her things.

“I haven’t proofread.”

“Oh,” Camille nodded and teetered from one foot to another.

“But you can go. Really. You’ve already waited for so long. I’ll just read it again and then I’m off.”

“You sure?” she asked.

“Yes. Somewhere you need to go?”

“The loo,” she whispered and you laughed.

“Then run!”

You rubbed your eyes and folded the parchment flat out under your hands. One more read-through and you were done. It was even quieter around you, now that Camille had left. The only things you heard were the librarian’s steps, as she tiptoed through the rows every now and then, and some quills scratching on paper from afar. It was a hypnotic silence, that made it easier to read. So easy, you didn’t even notice someone walking up to you.

The sound of the chair next to you screeching lightly over the floor was so startling, you almost knocked over your inkwell.

“Merlin’s sake,” you whispered as you screwed down the small bottle. “You can’t creep up on me like that. Almost ruined my essay.”

“Pardon me,” Tom said. “Who could have thought people had to be quiet in a library?”

You shot him a look to prevent yourself from telling him to keep his cocky jokes to himself. “What are you doing?”

He opened up a book, giving you the same look in return as if to say, what do you think people do in here. “Reading.”

“Alright then,” you said and leaned over your parchment again. 

Just a few more pages. But suddenly the words you had written didn’t make sense anymore. You had to read each sentence twice, to even understand what they meant. And you were awfully aware of your breathing. Tom made you nervous. 

It took you twice as long to read one page and the fact that you watched him from the corner of your eye every other moment didn’t help. 

Concentrate. Forget he’s even here. You had eventually found somewhat of a rhythm again, laying one paper aside, when Tom touched your hand.

You automatically jolted and looked over to him. He was still reading his book, now holding your hand firmer, more proper than earlier that day. It seemed like he wanted to finish this particular paragraph before he looked back at you. And the blank expression on his face said more than ever before. It was a mix between him waiting for you to pull away and simultaneously telling you not to dare to move. 

It was the same silence, the same tension that occurred when he had come for dinner at your house, when you were alone in the dining room with him. But yet, it felt so different.

So you held him, too. Quietly. Still staring at him. While no one spoke a word. 

Your fingers folded along the back of his hand perfectly, like they were meant to be there. 

And then, he moved. His thumb swayed back and forth across your skin, so lightly you could barely even sense it. So softly, as though he was scared it could hurt and break you. His eyes were fixated on you. He studied every breath, every flutter of your eyelashes, every muscle moving in reaction to his touch. 

And there it was. Something different in his eyes. Something more than the notorious apathy. A spark, a tiny hint of what you would call emotion. 

Something you had never seen on him. It suited him well. So you let him feast on it. For forever if he asked you to.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

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[auror-lovie]

I Loved You, Mr. Scamander; Ending 2

━━━•✦.✧. Author’s Note.✧.✦•━

Ending No. 2; Bittersweet Ending

And that’s the end!

━━━━━•✦.✧. Summary .✧.✦•━

Sometimes one needs to part ways with the people who used to make them happy. At some point, one needs to let go.

━━━━━•✦.✧. Add-Ons .✧.✦•━

Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald spoilers!

Angst

Follows Canon to a certain point

Character Death

And they were roommates~

Re-Read Chapter 3 if you forgot what happened!

━━━━━━•✦.✧.☾.✧.✦•━━━━━

“Grindelwald! Stop!” Leta yelled.

Grindelwald caught sight of Leta.

“Leta…” Theseus whispered.

“This one I believe I know.” said Grindelwald.

Theseus made an effort of will, making his way toward Leta, determined to reach her.

Grindelwald moved toward her through the flames as Theseus fought closer, desperate to reach her before Grindelwald did.

“Leta Lestrange. Despised entirely amongst wizards. Unloved, mistreated, yet brave. So very brave. Time to come home.” He stretched out his hand.

She hesitated, contemplating.

He looked at her, eyes narrowed.

Leta looked toward Victoria and (Y/N). Her best friends. They didn’t agree all the time, but they knew they always worked well together. “Take care of each other… Like you always have.”

She then looked toward Theseus and Newt, who were watching her, stunned.

“I love you…” She then pointed her wand at the skull in Rosier’s hands, which exploded.

Rosier was knocked backward and Grindelwald was momentarily obscured in a whirl of chaos.

“GO! GO!” Leta yelled before the fire engulfed her.

Theseus went wild and tried to dive after her, but Newt grabbed him and they Disapparate.

Seeing that the brothers left the mausoleum, Victoria tried making her way towards Leta.

“Victoria! We need to go!” (Y/N) yelled, grabbing Victoria’s arm and Disapparating.

The fire, mirroring Grindelwald’s rage, exploded, chasing them.

“I hate Paris.” Grindelwald muttered.

~*~*~

Outside the Père Lachaise Cemetery, Newt and Theseus, (Y/N) and Victoria, Tina with Jacob, and Kama with Nagini all Apparated out from the amphitheater. The black fire pursued them like a many-headed hydra, erupting out of every mausoleum.

Nicolas Flamel arrived at last with the cemetery on the verge of destruction. The fire Grindelwald had unleashed is out of control. It formed dragon-like creatures intent on destruction.

“TOGETHER! In a circle, your wand into the earth, or all Paris will be lost!” Flamel instructed.

“Finite!” Newt and Theseus.

“Finite!” (Y/N) and Victoria.

“Finite!” Tina.

“Finite!” Kama.

“Finite!” Flamel.

Our heroes, minus Jacob, made a circle and plunged their wands into the earth.

It takes almost superhuman power to contain Grindelwald’s demonic fire. United, our heroes fought and at last, their purifying fire drove Grindelwald’s back. The entrances to the underground lair were sealed. They have saved the city.

(Y/N) had watched the Scamander brothers hug. She smiled. Newt chose his side and knowing him (and his loyalty), he was going to stay.

Victoria stood next to her and placed a hand on (Y/N)’s shoulder. “Do you want to meet up with them? I’m pretty sure Theseus needs someone to confide in.”

She thought about it. She could help him get back on his feet. She could continue working with him. She could fall in love with him again. She could live out the future that was meant for him and Leta. A future with him that she could only dream of. She could.

(Y/N) shook her head. “Let’s just get out of here. I think I’ve had enough of this Auror business… And… I don’t want to slide back into his life thinking that he’d move on from Leta and love me again.”

Victoria nodded. “Well, at least now you can open up your shop. And hey, I’ll work with you.”

“What? But with me gone, you can take my position!”

She grabbed (Y/N)’s shoulders and faced her. “I don’t want to work with the Ministry anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I loved working with Theseus. Travers was the problem. You should’ve heard what he said about me to Theseus.”

(Y/N) tilted her head to the side, “What did he say?”

Victoria rolled her eyes. “He was suggesting that we arrest everyone at the rally. And I said that doing that would do more harm than good. Then Travers said, “Keep your Communications Liaison in check” to Theseus. And I was right there!”

“Did you… You know… Sock him in the face?” (Y/N) asked, genuinely curious and secretly hoping she did.

She sighed, “I wish, but Theseus held me back.”

“What a shame.”

“(Y/N), you’re my best friend. I’ll follow you anywhere. What have I always said since Hogwarts? Birds of a feather…?”

“Flock together” They said in unison.

•✦.✧.🔎.✧.✦•

After the events in Paris, (Y/N) and Victoria had owled in their resignation letters. Theseus was shocked and didn’t understand. By the time he went to visit their flat to ask for an explanation, their flat was empty. Pictures? Gone. Books? Gone. Any evidence of their stay was stripped away.

When Newt got the news, he tried to owl her, but no letter came back. He was worried about them. Were they taken? Were they being held hostage? They were in the middle of a war! How could they just… leave?

~*~*~

Working in the Ministry paid well so they were able to combine funds to open up their own bookshop cafe in Diagon Alley. The first floor was the cafe. The second floor was the bookshop where people could stay and read while sipping on tea, coffee or drinks alike. The third floor was their living quarters. Complete with a kitchen, living room area, a bedroom with a bathroom, a balcony, and a skylight so they could see the stars at night. The view was wonderful, but it couldn’t beat the view from the Ravenclaw Tower.

~*~*~

“Well would you look at that!” (Y/N) exclaimed while unboxing a shipment of books to stock up on.

“What is it?” Victoria asked, hugging (Y/N) from behind, resting her chin on her shoulder.

“We finally got a shipment of his book!

“Finally!”

Victoria removed herself from (Y/N), took one of the books and flipped through. She finally got to the last page. She felt it. It was charmed. As if it were only meant for them to see.

“This is amazing stuff,” (Y/N) cooed.

“Flip to the very last page.”

Confused, (Y/N) did so. She felt it too. “Revelio.” Then the words appeared on the page:

Dedicated to (Y/N) (L/N). The one that got away, but was always there for me.

To Victoria Howard. For being the one who always encouraged me to go above and beyond. To test the limits and overcome them.

Without them, this book would’ve never been possible. Wherever they may be, I hope they’re doing well.

~*~*~

Today was grocery day. So while (Y/N) was out, Victoria watched over the store.

“I have to get more things for the kitchen. We’re out of tea and snacks.” (Y/N) called out as she put on her coat.

“Okay, be safe.” Victoria replied, coming into the main room.

“I will.” She smiled, kissing Victoria’s cheek.

Victoria blushed lightly, still not used to her partner’s affections. “R-Remember to be aware of your surroundings!”

“Of course, Vi. I always am.” (Y/N) winked before heading out the door.

It had been months since Newt and Theseus had last seen any trace of (Y/N) and Victoria. They deserved a much needed break so they decided on walking through Diagon Alley. Newt and Theseus pass by a window of a cafe.

“Wait, this store wasn’t here before.” Newt claimed.

“Well, it is a bookshop cafe, let’s get some tea.” Theseus said as he held the door open.

With her back facing towards the door, Victoria heard the door open. Dusting off the powdered sugar off her apron, she turned to greet whoever walked through the door. “Hi, welcome!”

Newt and Theseus looked at each other. They knew that voice. “Victoria?!” They said as they looked at her.

“If you’re here… does that mean…?” Theseus trailed off, hopeful.

Victoria shook her head. “No… I haven’t seen her since we resigned…”

The brothers sighed in defeat. Theseus more so than Newt.

~*~*~

Their visits became more frequent, which made things harder for (Y/N). Until one day…

It was Victoria’s turn to get the groceries, so (Y/N) was watching over the shop. Restocking some of the textbooks for students, Newt and Theseus walked in. “Victoria, it’s us again.”

“Hi, welcome!” (Y/N)’s voice echoed as she made her way to the first floor.

“(Y-Y/N)?” Theseus stuttered.

“(Y/N)! I’m home- For Godric’s sake,” said Victoria, behind the brothers as she entered the shop.

After some small talk, Theseus made his way to (Y/N) who went back to restocking textbooks.

Theseus cleared his throat. “I-If you’re free sometime… Would you like to accompany me on a trip to Hogsmeade-”

Her heart was racing. She was fine. She was moving on with her life, but now they show up out of nowhere? Victoria and her made sure that they did everything they could for this situation not to happen.

She let out a shaky breath before she interrupted him. “Mr. Scamander, thank you for your kind offer, but I’ll have to politely decline. I’ve moved on. I’ve learned from my school girl naivety.” She hummed as she reminisced, “Newt told me that I had you wrapped around my finger… I think it was the other way around… Besides, I have Victoria now. The girl I used to be… She’s long gone.”

#fbawtf #fbtcog #theseus scamander x reader #newt scamander x reader #theseus scamander #newt scamander #harry potter fanfiction #fantastic beasts fanfiction #Series: ILYMS

[ourloveisforthelovely]

In Love and Death 6

Harry Potter AU

Link to Part 5 

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader 

Rating: M

________

Evan lay looking up at the ceiling. He hadn’t moved in over half an hour. Dolohov leaned over to Rodolphus Lestrange.

“Should we poke him or something? Is he dead?”

Rodolphus rolled his eyes.

“He’s blinking, idiot. Rosier, it's been 30 minutes, can you get yourself together?”

Evan sat up running a hand through his sandy blonde hair. He scowled angrily at his two former associates. Both men appeared a bit bored and put out with his reaction.

“I am sorry that I am boring the lot of you with the news that my baby is having a child. I am going to be a grandfather at 20. There is something fucked up about that.”

Dolohov held a hand up.

“You're technically not 20.”

“I DIDN’T ASK FOR YOUR INPUT!”

Evan yelled. Rodolphus held up a hand.

“What?”

Evan snapped. Rodolphus shrugged.

“Y/n technically isn’t a baby. She’s an 18-year-old auror that almost took my head off. Y/n is vicious. She would be good on our side but we all know that isn’t going to happen.”

Evan’s wand was out before Rodolphus could say a word. He pointed the wand right at his friend and muttered “crucio.” Evan was not going to deal with this shit from his own friends. He was dealing with enough torture from his former best friend and daughter. The last thing that Evan needed was help from anyone else.

(meanwhile)

Regulus sat at the dining room table thumbing through a book. He glanced down at his watch curiously. You had been called out for a job the previous night and had not returned. Regulus had expected you home before now and was beginning to get worried. It didn’t help that you didn’t answer the stupid cell phone that Regulus still hated.

“There you are. You are a hard guy to find.”

Regulus glanced up to see Sirius standing in the doorway. Neither brother had said a word to the other in a few days and it hadn’t bothered Regulus one bit. Regulus felt a lot better since he had gotten his feelings off of his chest. Years of holding in how he felt about Sirius had finally escaped.

To Sirius’ displeasure, Regulus said nothing. His eyes went back to the book in front of him acting as though Sirius didn’t exist. Sirius stood a moment before sitting down across from Regulus.

“You are going to talk to me. I’ll be so annoying that you’ll sink to my level like a rock! I don’t know what makes you think that you are so much better than me. I asked you to come with me that night but you wouldn’t leave mum. You are a spoiled mummy’s boy who would do anything that they told you. I shouldn't be surprised though. You would never give James or any of my friends a chance. You were too busy with your holier than thou friends who were all a bunch of pureblood snoots.”

Regulus leaned back in his chair.

“I am hearing a lot of yous but not a lot of me. You, my dear brother, are a fine one to talk about someone being arrogant. Now stop posturing me and go away. I’m busy.”

Sirius smirked.

“Look at that! Your power of speech has been renewed. What are you doing anyway?”

“None of your business.”

Sirius watched as Regulus’ eyes flickered to his watch.

“Waiting on Y/n, huh? I’m sure she is just fine. I never thought that I would see the day that you would go gaga over a girl. To be honest, we all thought that you were asexual or something. I don’t think that I ever saw you talk to a girl.”

Regulus swallowed back the rage that was beginning to build.

“That right there shows that you know nothing about me. You don’t know about Ambrosia or any of the other girls that I dated. You were too busy being a manwhore. Now, as I said, leave me alone.”

Sirius shook his head.

“No, we are fixing our problems!”

“Somethings can’t be fixed.”

Regulus replied. Sirius jumped up.

“Stop being a control freak and listen to me!”

(meanwhile)

You stood outside the door waiting for all of the security enchantments to let you in. Tonks had been mostly quiet since she started throwing up in the neighbor's bushes. Your eyes flickered over to your best friend whose color closely resembled the half-rotten lime that was in the refrigerator.

“I think that you are going to be on desk duty soon.”

You commented as Tonks looked up.

“Ugh, no. I do not want to be on desk duty while you are out running around having fun.”

You scoffed.

“I wouldn’t consider being thrown against a wall by some overgrown death eater fun but if you insist.”

Tonks smirked as she laid her head on your shoulder.

“Watching you quote Supernatural was fun. I quote My name is Y/n Rosier. Prepare to die. That is going to be a classic.”

You shrugged.

“Good times, huh? Do me a solid and don’t tell any member of the male race in this house what happened last night. Regulus is already tense enough without me telling him that my head bashed into some brick. I mean, yeah, we beat that guy up and threw him in a cell with his name on it but if Reggie finds out that I got hurt...he will want to go to work with me.”

Tonks knew that you were right. Regulus was protective enough of you without her help.

“I won’t. Now come on, I really need to make a potion for my stomach trouble.”

The both of you stepped inside to hear Sirius and Regulus yelling random obscenities at each other. Your eyes rolled over to your friend.

“Here we go.”

The two of you quickly walked into the dining room where Regulus and Sirius had destroyed the room trying to hex each other. It looked like after destroying the room, they decided to beat the crap out of each other seemed to be the next best thing to try. Kreacher meanwhile, stood in the corner with a dustpan and a broom muttering about Sirius being a filthy blood traitor and starting everything. There was also something about "his poor mistresses treasures being broken."

“What the hell is going on around here?”

You snapped. Both Regulus and Sirius didn’t turn to look at Tonks nor yourself.

“We are just playing.”

Sirius replied.

“Go away, love. We are dealing with a problem.”

Regulus added. You blinked a few times before quickly going back into “work mode.” Tonks had started to try to break it up but you gently pushed her away and shoved yourself between both brothers.

“I said that is enough...both of you.”

You said in an authoritative tone that you typically had to take with morons that you were about to lock up.

“We aren’t done.”

Sirius hissed. You turned your attention to the elder brother.

“Sirius, don’t make me shove you in that other room. You know that I can too.”

Regulus laughed.

“Get shoved around by a girl, do you? That has to hurt your male pride.”

Your attention went back to your own lover. His eyes were wild and he looked as if he was ready to start letting the hexes fly again.

“I said ENOUGH! Regulus, Sirius knows that you think he is a selfish asshole. Sirius, Regulus knows that you think he is a selfish little prat. We don’t need to hear it again.”

You turned your attention back to Regulus.

“Come on, Reggie.”

Regulus turned his attention back to you. He felt a little embarrassed that it was you that had to come in and stop the ridiculousness between Sirius and himself.

“Where are we going?”

He asked, softly. You pulled your coat back on before tossing him his.

“My grandmothers. She asked to see me and I figured it would be a great time to give her the gift that we talked about.’

It was Sirius’ turn to frown. You going around your pureblood family was a horrible idea in the making. What if Evan was there?

“Um, why don’t you two go see other people? What is the gift? Did you buy her an urn to put your mother’s ashes in?”

Tonks elbowed Sirius in the side as you turned. You surprisingly laughed.

“Good one. Grandmother would just put her in a trash bag if she was given the choice. The gift is me dating another pureblood. She simply won’t know what to do with herself. We are going because I need to get information on my father.”

“But...it's dangerous.”

Sirius commented. You smiled and wrapped your hand through Regulus’ in hopes to calm his temper that was still raging.

“Between Regulus and myself, we will be just fine. Go deal with Dora, she has been puking in the neighbors' bushes. You or Remus caused this problem..go fix it.”

Sirius winced before leaving the room.

(Twenty minutes later)

You stood outside of your grandmother’s door with a sigh. Regulus watched you from the corner of his eye as you raised your hand to knock a few times but stopped. In the few months that the two of you had been a couple, you had barely spoken to your family.

“We are going to be standing here all day if you don’t knock already.”

Regulus hissed. You turned to your boyfriend.

“I don’t like my family.”

Regulus smirked. He leaned down to kiss the top of your head.

“What a coincidence. I hate mine too. Maybe it's a good thing that we can’t have kids. They would be making our lives a lot worse. Granted, most of my family is dead except my stupid brother. My mother’s portrait could screech from her painting. That would be miserable.”

You looked down at your feet for a minute.

“We can always keep trying. I know a lot of people who weren’t supposed to be able to have kids and when they gave up...boom they were pregnant.”

Regulus rolled his eyes. He wrapped his hand around yours and pulled you to him.

“We don’t need to follow in Tonks and those dorks that she’s dating’s footsteps to be happy. We have been happy just fine without this conversation not coming up. Besides, I like being able to have my way with you whenever I damn well please.”

Regulus was relieved when you smiled.

“You’re right. We are going to be just fine. When we get home, we can scare the crap out of your brother. Might as well get this over with.”

You finally knocked on the door before stepping back and intertwining your hand with Regulus’ waiting hand. The moment the door opened, your grandmother’s house elf “Daisy” stood on the other side. She looked up at you with a sour expression that the unfriendly creature wore so well. You couldn’t help but think that Kreacher and Daisy would really hit it off. They could probably compare notes on which family member that they hated the most.

“Mistress Y/n...a long time its been.”

You nodded.

“Yes, it has. I would like to see grandmother, Daisy.”

Daisy nodded and led you down a dark hallway. You kept your hand locked around Regulus as the darkness of the home soured your mood. The Rosier family home was as gloomy and depressing as the Black family home.

“Mistress, you have a visitor.”

Daisy announced as you stepped into the sitting room. Your grandmother sat with a knitting pattern in front of her. Her blue eyes were clearly surprised to see you and even more surprised to see Regulus.

“Y/n...Regulus...how is this possible?”

She asked, standing up. It had been years since she learned of Regulus Black’s death. Evan had been a wreck when he found out that his best friend “died” now here he stood looking just as he had the last time that he was seen.

“I can’t answer that, Mrs. Rosier.”

Regulus answered. Your grandmother was pleased enough with the response. Stranger things had happened over the past few weeks.

“Well, sit.”

Mrs. Rosier stated before returning back to her chair. She watched as you sat down beside Regulus. It didn’t take her having years of experience on this earth to know that the two of you were a couple.

“So, Y/n do you have something to tell me?”

You knew that this was coming.

“Regulus and I are a couple, grandmother.”

Your grandmother immediately looked pleased as a plum. This was clearly the news that she had been waiting to hear. After you became an auror and “let the family down” it was wonderful news to discover that you were dating a pureblood man that was decent and worthy (in your grandmother’s eyes).

“I am actually aware. Your father came to see me.”

Your grandmother smiled when your face went serious.

“He doesn't seem very pleased with the news, however.”

She added as your attention went to Regulus.

“I know, grandmother. He is having a bit of a cow over it.”

Your grandmother picked up her knitting needles and went back to work.

“You have to understand, Y/n, the last time that your father saw you was many years ago when you were a little girl. Finding out that you are an adult with a lover has to be hard for him to process.”

You frowned.

“So hard to process that he went and killed my mother.”

Your grandmother scowled at you.

“Yes, a real tragedy. Tell Evan that I said hello and he owes me five minutes of civilized conversation that doesn’t result in us trying to hex each other.”

Your grandmother stood up. Her displeased expression returned.

“Y/n, it's time that you stop this nonsense that you have been doing. You are a Rosier and it's time that you start acting like one. Your grandfather would roll over in his grave if he knew that you were an auror who is locking up our friends. Leave the room, Y/n. I want to talk to Regulus alone.”

You waited until Regulus gently patted your leg before standing up and walking out.

Mrs. Rosier closed the door behind her before pouring a glass of whiskey and handing it to Regulus.

“What are your intentions?”

“Intentions?”

Regulus questioned, softly. Mrs. Rosier smiled. She was used to Regulus Black’s silence. From the time that the boy was born, Mrs. Rosier had always adored Regulus Black’s shy nature.

“What do you intend to do with my granddaughter?”

Regulus had a feeling where this was going.

“You can tell Evan that I love her more than life itself. That should clearly state my intentions.”

Mrs. Rosier grinned.

“My son is convinced that you have abandoned the dark lord. I do hope that you remember the oath that you took when you accepted that mark on your arm.”

Regulus frowned.

“The dark lord is dead, Mrs. Rosier. What's left of our side is being swept up and sent off to Azkaban. You may want to tell Evan that he better watch his back just like I am having to watch mine.”

Mrs. Rosier smiled coldly.

“My dear boy...it looks like Y/n and yourself are being kept in the dark. The dark lord is back and strengthening with each day. Maybe you should consult with Y/n’s little friend Harry Potter about it. He, after all, saw everything and it's been all over the daily prophet. It makes sense that you didn’t know. Being an inferi for all of these years results in one not knowing all that is happening.”

Regulus sat taking in Mrs. Rosier’s words with a dark expression on his face. Was she right?

“I guess we shall see.”

Regulus commented before standing up.

“It was a pleasure, Mrs. Rosier. I promised, Y/n a date.”

________

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#Regulus Black #Regulus Black x Reader #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #nympadora tonks #timothee chalamet as regulus black #andrew garfield as remus lupin #ben barnes as sirius black #sirius x remus x tonks #regulus arcturus black #sirius orion black #evan rosier #antonin dolohov #the lestrange family #the rosier family #the ancient and noble house of black #regulus x reader #regulus black fics #former death eater regulus #In Love and Death #In Love and Death update

[mischievousmoony]

Doubtful || pt. VI

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: An unexpected team-up between you, a Slytherin, and the proud Gryffindors that go by “The Marauders” causes an unexpected relationship between you and the one and only Sirius Black.

Warnings: none

Masterlist

Part I // Part II // Part III // Part IV // Part V // Part VI

––––––––––

You and Sirius were conversing merrily when someone grabbed your arm. You tensed up, thinking about how the last few times someone did that ended with you being forced away into an unused classroom.

However, you were pleased to hear, “Y/N! I haven’t seen you all week!” It was just your friend from Hufflepuff, “Where have you been?”

You relaxed, smiling at her and explaining that you were simply busy, leaving out that avoiding a gang of wannabe Death Eaters was the reason.

Meanwhile, Sirius had just made eye contact with his other friends leaving Three Broomsticks. He waved them down with his free hand.

Upon noticing his friend, James started making all sorts of excited hand signals. Sirius had no idea what was going on. He looked to his other two friends for help, but Remus was only standing there with a smirk on his face and Peter seemed to be laughing. It was only when James finally decided to point at something that Sirius got it.

Sirius’ eyes followed the direction of James’ finger to reach his own hand. Intertwined with yours!

Suddenly, Sirius was bright red. He mouths to his friends, “I had no idea!” 

Peter started laughing harder and Remus joins him with some chuckles of his own. 

“What do I do?” Sirius mouths to his friends. James just continues to make obscure hand gestured that Sirius does not understand. While Sirius was trying his best to interpret them, you were completely oblivious to the silent conversation, having been in a discussion of your own.

Your Hufflepuff friend leaned close to your ear and, in a whisper, asks, “So when did you and Sirius Black become a thing?”

“What!?” Your face immediately begins to warm up. In a hushed tone, you say, “We’re not! Where did you get that idea?”

Your friends gaze lowers to something and your eyes follow to find Sirius’ large hand wrapped around yours. 

You gasp, the shade of pink on your face deepening into a red. You open your mouth to respond but before you can a beam of light shoots between you and Sirius, causing you two to break apart. 

“Sorry to break it up, love birds,” a voice that could only belong to Rabastan Lestrange calls out. His voice alone makes your blood boil. 

You and Sirius turn around, wands out and ready for a fight. It looks like detention was over, because all seven of the Slytherin boys stood before you, matching your stance with their wands out as well. 

James, Remus, and Peter were quick to come to your and Sirius’ aid. 

“Well look at that,” you said, “the boyband got over their stage fright.”

Rabastan scowled, “We’re tired of waiting and it doesn’t matter. We can do just as much damage with your fanboys at your side.”

“Aw,” you placed your free hand over your heart, “you’re learning how to talk back! Glad to see I’ve had an impact on you!”

That must have made him mad, because after that he fired the first shot. 

All of a sudden, beams of different colored light were shooting across Hogsmeade in all directions and students and other residents of the village were scattering away to safety. 

The Marauder’s were each in a one-on-one duel: Sirius against Mulciber, James against Snape, Remus against Rosier, and Peter against Wilkes. 

Lestrange and Avery had ganged up on you. You were their main target so they wanted to make sure they had as many people on you as possible.

But that just left one person. The one person in all of Hogsmeade who wasn’t either running or fighting: Regulus Black. He simply stood at the sidelines, watching, wand out but left at his side. 

“What are you doing, Black?” Avery shouted at him after unsuccessfully trying to cast a slippery jinx on your wand, “Don’t just stand there!”

Regulus inhaled sharply. Suddenly, he had a choice. His brother and you or the Death Eaters. There was a pit in his stomach. It seemed that choosing a side in this simple childish fight was more important than it looked on the surface.

If he chose his friends, he wouldn’t be able to turn back. It would be the final straw that if broken would not allow you or Sirius to ever forgive him. If he chose to fight alongside you and his brother, the path he’s been following that made his pureblooded parents oh so proud would be blocked forever. 

That’s why it was so important. After this, he wouldn’t be able to change his mind because there would be no one to go to if he did. 

A part of him wanted to just walk away and forget all of it. To just turn around and walk back up to Hogwarts like none of it was even happening. Maybe he would’ve if it hadn’t been for what happened next. 

“What’s wrong, little brother?” Sirius teased, “Scared your hair gel won’t hold? Or do you just not have the guts?”

Regulus felt the anger build up inside him. For that moment, he didn’t care about what anyone thought of him. He just wanted to make Sirius angry. 

So he shot sectumsempra at Sirius, who luckily used the protection spell at the last second. Sirius looked at his brother wildly. You all have seen Snape use that spell before. If Regulus had been successful...

Your breath hitched. You had been watching Regulus contemplate his next move. You almost thought he would do the right thing. You scoffed at yourself for being naive, but you were still hurt. The hope you had for Regulus had just been taken away.

In your moment of distraction, Lestrange and Avery had the upper hand. At the same time, they each hit you with the knockback jinx sending you flying into the side of a building.

You groaned in pain as they walked closer to you, a menacing smirk on each of their faces.

But of course, Sirius had been keeping an eye on you throughout the whole duel, so he saw these events occur.

As Lestrange and Avery took their time making their way over to you, basking in what they thought was their victory, they gave Sirius just enough time to petrify both Mulciber and his brother and come to your aid.

Sirius jumped in front of you, sliding just a little bit on the mud beneath his feet.

“Look who’s come to try to save his girlfriend,” Avery said patronizingly.

“Not try to save,” Sirius responded, “just save.”

And then just like that, the beams of different colored lights and energies were shooting through the air again.

“This seems a little familiar,” Sirius called between spells, “Don’t you think?”

Sirius brought you back to the first time you met him. The first time he came to your rescue.

“And just like last time,” he continued, “you’re taking too long to get back up!”

You barked a laugh, jumping to your feet at once, “I was just letting you get your exercise.”

“Please,” Sirius scoffed, “Dueling them is more like a walk in the park.”

The duel went a lot more smoothly now that Mulciber and Regulus were taken out of the mix. James, Remus, and even Peter had already gotten the upper hand on their opponents. And now that you and Sirius were one on one with Leatrange and Avery respectively, it wasn’t long before you both dominated the duels as well.

But before you could really finish them off, the fight was interrupted. Everyone’s wands suddenly flew out of their hands. Uh oh.

––––––––––

You couldn’t believe how lucky you were. Walking out of Slughorn’s office, you couldn’t even be mad about your punishment.

You may have been banned from participating in a Hogsmeade weekend for the rest of the year and you may have been given a truckload of detentions, but you honestly should’ve been expelled. A fight like that usually wasn’t taken lightly. Especially since the entire group of Slytherin boys ended up in the hospital wing. So, you walked with a pep in your step, even though you were walking to detention.

Ten minutes later, the pep was gone. You were dragging a cart of books through the library, having been tasked with reshelving them. The books in the cart were completely disorganized and you wouldn’t be surprised if that was on purpose. It would take you all day to make your way back and forth through the library to find the home of all these books. And you had to do it alone... or so you thought.

As you were about to place a book about mandrakes on the shelf you found yourself looking into a pair of light blue eyes. You gasped, startled, and the book slipped from your hand and fell to the ground.

Sirius was smirking at you through the space in the bookshelves from the other side. You were about to shout at him for scaring you, but he put a finger to his lips. You settled for giving him and angry glare.

The Gryffindor jerked his head to the left to gesture to meet him at the end of the aisles and then he disappeared. You abandoned your cart and the fallen book to meet him. 

The first thing you did when you saw him was slap him in the arm, “That’s for scaring me!” 

Sirius hissed in pain, rubbing his arm as he shushed you, “We aren’t supposed to be talking. Pince said absolutely no socializing with the other delinquents.”

You rolled your eyes, whispering in a playful tone, “She really called us delinquents and expected us to follow the rules?”

Sirius chuckled while you changed the subject, “So how’d it go with McGonagall?”

“Threatened expulsion. But thanks to Lestrange taking the first shot, we were technically acting in self-defense, so we live to see another day at Hogwarts,” Sirius responded.

“Sluggy wouldn’t ever threaten me with something like that, he loves me too much,” you said, thinking of the countless Slug Club parties he’s invited you to that you never attended, “But he did ban me from Hogsmeade and probably gave me more detentions than there are days left in the year.”

“Yeah, me and the others got the same. But hey, we’ll be in this together, yeah?” Sirius asked rhetorically, “Plus, it was worth it. That was some fight.”

You nodded, “And I don’t think there will be another one.” Sirius tilted his head curiously and you explained, “I think they learned their lesson. I was the only one sent to Slughorn because every single one of them had to make a pitstop at the Hospital Wing first.” 

Sirius erupted in laughter, probably imagining the seven groaning in their hospital beds. He covered his mouth to quiet himself down as to not attract the attention of Pince. You couldn’t help but find that so terribly cute and a soft smile grew on your face as you watched Sirius bask in the victory. 

“Hello?” Sirius dragged out the ‘o’ as he waved a hand in front of your face, “Is there something on my face or am I just so attractive that I’ve left you speechless?”

You snapped out of it, not missing a beat and saying, “Actually, you’re right there is something on your face.”

Sirius’ smile turned into a frown, “What!? Where?” He began dragging his hands all over his face to get what was supposedly on it off. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll get it,” you brought your hand up to his face and flicked him in the nose. 

Sirius caught your hand just after you did, scowling at you playfully for tricking him.

But now it was his turn to get distracted. His eyes darted to his hand that was wrapped around yours. Then, feeling bold, he shifted his hand around until his fingers were intertwined with yours. 

Once again, Sirius was holding hands with you. But, this is the first time he meant to.

Your breath hitched in your throat, eyes trained on Sirius’ face that displayed an unreadable expression.

“I think,” Sirius moved his gaze from your intertwined hands and back to your eyes, taking a deep breath as he did so to prepare himself to continue, “I think it’s time for me to tell you that secret you wanted to hear this morning.”

You stayed silent to allow him to continue.

“It’s like… okay I-” Sirius gulped, “You… There’s something about you. You’re special! Like, in a good way, of course. And you make me really nervous, which has never happened before… and I don’t really know how to do this,” Sirius laughed nervously.

As he continued his rambling, the grin on your face grew wider and wider until you finally decided to put him out of his misery. 

You took a step closer, got on the tips of your toes, and kissed the boy in front of you. 

It was innocent and short, and when you pulled away Sirius was beaming. 

“Thanks,” he said, and then mentally kicked himself for saying that.

You giggled softly, “You sounded like you needed some help.”

Sirius scoffed, and defensively asked, “Well I got the girl, didn’t I?”

He said it playfully, but when you looked into his eyes you could see the truth behind them. He was really making sure that this was actually happening. 

You nodded, “Yeah, I guess you did.”

Sirius’ face broke out into a huge smile and he let go of your hand to settle both of his on your hips, pulling you a couple inches closer.

You suddenly thought about everything he said moments ago about how he isn’t usually so nervous around girls. That brought your mind to his reputation with them.

So, you did what he did earlier. You masked a real question with a playful one, “You gonna break my heart, Sirius Black?”

Sirius smirked, tightening his grip on your hips and pulling you even closer to get rid of those last few inches of space between you. He leaned his head in close, and just before his lips met yours, he whispered a response. 

“Doubtful.”

––––––––––

Note: i can’t believe i finally finished this story, i hope you guys liked the ending!

#sirius #Sirius Black #Sirius orion black #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black imagine #sirius black imagines #sirius black x reader #sirius black x slytherin #sirius black x slytherin!reader #slytherin!reader #James Potter #james fleamont potter #james potter imagine #james potter imagines #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #James Potter x Lily Evans #jily #Remus Lupin #Remus John Lupin #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin imagines #peter pettigrew #peter pettigrew imagine #regulus #regulus arcturus black #regulus black imagine

[camelot-dragonlord]

Harry Potter Canon Call

Haha, I miss my friends and everyone I care about.

HP Kin: Tom Marvolo Riddle (I have loads of HP kins, but this is who I’m looking for canonmates from right now)

Bodily Age: 20 (please no one younger than 16/17 if you’re kin with the same people I was friends with and no one younger than 18 if you’re kin with the same person(s) I was romantically or sexually involved with)

Who I’m looking for (all timelines): Abraxas Malfoy, Walburga Black, Orion Black, Cygnus Black, Septimus Weasley, Druella Rosier, or really just anyone who remembers being apart of the Knights of Walpurgis or friends with me.

Who I’m looking for (some timelines): Merope Gaunt (if you remember being a single parent to your son, Tom, or rasing him with a Pureblood Tom Riddle Sr) and Tom Riddle Sr (again, if you remember raising your son, Tom, with Merope Gaunt). Probably about 99.99999% of timelines I grew up in the orphanage alone, but there were a very small handful where Merope Gaunt survived and raised me (within the orphanage, they hired her as a cook) or where Tom Riddle Sr was a pureblood and actually loved Merope so they raised me together. Damien (I don’t remember his last name, more information below).

Who I’m not looking for (any timelines): Albus Percival Wilfric Brian Dumbledore and Gellert Grindlewald. Also, while I doubt anyone kins her, I definitely don’t want to be contacted by any Ms. Cole (matron of Wool’s Orphanage). If you’re a sourcemate Dumbledore or Grindlewald, then I won’t care as much if you interact or want to chat. I just don’t want any of the ones from my timelines contacting me.

Timelines (since I have loads):

I dated Cygnus (sometimes Cygnalia or Cygnilia) Black in a lot of timelines as well as the before mentioned Damien and some other non-canons as well. Damien was a muggle, but the other non-canons I dated were magical. In about half the timelines I dated Cygnus, he was a gay man but when it was Cygnalia or Cygnilia I dated, she was a transgirl! Regardless of the timeline, Cy had lovely parents! Damien never had parents and grew up in the orphanage with me while the non-canons changed based on each timeline.

Walburga was pretty much always a plus sized lesbian Queen who loved Druella. Walburga was one of my best friends, though she could get overly motherly at times. Druella was really sweet, but I don’t remember a whole lot about her right now. I do believe she had two sisters in most of my timelines. Their names might have been Lily and Tobi but I can’t remember. One if them was a staight ally and really feminine while the other played quidditch and was a tomboy.

Abraxas toed between being my best friend, QPP, and someone I dated a in a couple timelines as well. A few timelines we were sexually but not romantically involved. If we didn’t end up together permanently, he usually ended up in an arranged marriage with a girl named Matilda who I don’t believe went to Hogwarts.

Orion was a very swell yet very gay guy who was in love with one of Druella’s cousins? named Alex. I think they were cousins anyways. Orion was very supportive of me, like everyone else, but wasn’t as outgoing at the rest of us to my knowledge.

Septimus was a Gryffindor (everyone else above was either in Slytherin or no house) and a really great friend. He usually married a ravenclaw girl named Artemis. I think she was part of the Sayre family but can’t remember.

(Extra: In a couple lifetimes, Rubeus Hagrid and I got along and bonded over Magical Creatures. We weren’t extremely close but he was chill. Minerva McGonagal and I often had a budding rivalry in all of our classes to see who would be at the top. I never killed Myrtle Warren and honestly didn’t know her too well but I did try to be nice to her. I didn’t see much of a reason not to; she was just an insecure kid like most of us were. I didn’t get along well with the Lestrange brothers in my year and don’t really want to find them, tbh. I don’t remember their first names, but it wasn’t Rabastian and Rodolphus because those are the Lestrange brothers in the Marauders’ era not mine. The Knights and I weren’t the same as source when it comes to our beliefs. In fact, we sort of had a punk like movement of “Pureblood Supremacy is a Lie.” Our main focus was putting in place Magical Orphanages for witches, wizards, and magical creatures alike as well as putting a stop to abuse of all magical beings. We wanted to make society more fair and just overall better.)

If You want to talk about our canons more in-depth together, then please reply to this, reblog with your kins, or message me!

#harry potter kin call #harrypotterkin #harry potter kin #hp kin call #hp kin #hpkin #i'm hpkin #tom marvolo riddle kin #tom riddle kin #hp canon call #harry potter canon call #harry potter kin canon call #hp kin canon call #hpkin canon call #hpkin canoncall

[callumturncr]

First Times [Theseus Scamander]

Summary: In which Theseus Scamander tries to find himself through a series of firsts after Leta Lestrange.

*CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS FROM FANTASTIC BEASTS: THE CRIMES OF GRINDELWALD*

Author’s Note: Tagging @theseuscmander because she loves Theseus as much as I do :’)

Gif is not mine. Words: 1.9k. 

Theseus Scamander sits in the Minister’s office with his spine wrought in tension and a bitter taste in his mouth left by the aftermath of the battle. Ministry officials scurry back and forth in front of him and snippets of their conversation, both in French and English, muddle their way through to his understanding but all he thinks of is Leta Lestrange.

Cobalt blue tongues of fire lap at him on all sides. They hiss and flicker, eager to devour at Grindelwald’s command but Theseus is hardly worried about himself. He thinks of his fiancée and her last words thunder through him. He was going to say them back, he thinks, but the brightest flash erupts from her wand and the waves of blue disappear, taking Leta with them.

Someone is calling his name.

A woman stands before him, hand hovering over his shoulder uncertainly. It’s a colleague of his, a colleague he knows well. She’s a good friend of Newt’s too, one of the few his brother has. She takes a seat next to him and regards him with sad eyes, the pain he feels reflecting back in them.

Theseus doesn’t want to cry – not here in front of all these people he doesn’t know – but the concern in her eyes is so genuinely heartfelt that he tastes the salt on his tongue anyway. She moves her hand to grip his across the table. Her fingers are cold enough to make him shiver but Theseus returns the gesture with equal force, holding on until his knuckles go white.

For the first time since Leta’s death, Theseus allows himself to break.

-

When he steps into his home in London again, Theseus falters a little at how unbearably strong Leta’s presence is. It weaves through the air from the picture frames on the mantelpiece, from her mug on the dining table, from the fabric of her coat neatly placed on the coatrack. He’s not quite sure what to do with himself – Theseus normally never has time to ponder aimlessly like this and the unfamiliarity of it makes the sadness inside of him swell.

Weeks pass and Theseus thinks he ought to pack up Leta’s stuff, put them away in the attic where they can’t haunt him anymore but he can’t ever seem to find the heart to do it. Briefly he wonders whether he should write Newt to help him but the words don’t come easily.

Nothing does anymore.

Travers makes him work and work and work and he all but throws himself into it with a vengeance, burying his grief in it. Sheets of paper litter his desk like snow and his pot of ink needs constant refilling but Head Auror Theseus Scamander does not complain. Fatigue paints him all over, leaves his bones stiff and unyielding but the pressure keeps mounting on his shoulders and Theseus keeps going that way, fingers coated in ink and lips bitten raw until one day he feels on the verge of collapse.

She finds him once again – like she did that night – with an expression of part concern, part horror distressing her pretty features.

“Mr. Scamander–”

“I’m alright,” he says. He is hardly convincing, with the way he sits, slumped against the floor of his office. She mirrors the action, crouching some distance away as if to not frighten him.

“Theseus,” she says this time. He meets her stare after a moment of reluctance. “Newt is worried about you. He would like you to answer his letters.”

“I’m fine,” he repeats, sitting up a little straighter and brushing his hair back.

“You can talk to me if you like.”

Theseus studies her carefully and the worry etched on her face eases the tension from his shoulders a little. And so he tells her. Every sad thought, every bit of anger pent up inside of him comes pouring out like a dam let loose and by the end of it she’s hugging him as tightly as she held onto his hand that day.

It comes as a surprise to them both that Theseus lets her.

When the weekend comes, it becomes clear that she’s told Newt because on Saturday, his little brother is at his doorstep. He stands a little awkwardly; hands empty without his brown suitcase. In his front pocket, Pickett regards the older Scamander with a curious look.

“Don’t worry,” says Newt, a little sheepishly. “I didn’t bring Niffler.”

For the first time since Leta’s death, Theseus laughs.

-

Theseus cannot remember the last time he felt at ease like this.

A record plays softly in the back as he listens to Newt and Jacob bicker. It’s New Year’s Eve and while the ache inside him remains still, he feels lighter these days. The five of them fill the evening with idle talk and it feels like being back at Hogwarts, at one of the long tables in the Great Hall during dinner time. The topic of Tina utterly defeating Theseus ‘war hero’ Scamander back at the French Ministry surfaces, and he grins widely. It makes him look younger, fresher.

Overcome by peals of laughter, they seem to forget the two glaringly empty chairs that would’ve, in simpler times, seated Queenie and Leta.

Theseus takes a sip of his drink, letting his gaze fall to her. She talks to Tina across the table and the air is light with the notes of their laughter, mingling with a comfortable silence that lingers. In the dim glow of the lamp, Leta returns to him and suddenly, Theseus is struck by the likeness – dark hair and even darker eyes, the same light dusting of freckles across the nose. His heart twists painfully but he tries as hard as he can to shake away the image.

He wonders if he should’ve tried harder because later, when she’s about to leave, he almost kisses her. Neither of them are quite sure how they end up in such close proximity but here, up close, her eyes have a warmth to them and they glint the colour of melted copper. Theseus’ blaze glacier blue in the twilight, like the hottest of fires and she finds herself transfixed too. It’s the faintest brush of their lips, the warmth of his fingers on her jaw that they bask in but soon enough, the shaft of light passes and the illusion splinters.

Leta disappears and the guilt rises within Theseus like bile. He feels dirty, like he’s used her and the truth of it is so repulsive that he staggers back. Before he can apologize, the door swings open and Newt stands in the picture, back from walking Jacob home. He regards them with a curious look before smiling and walking hurriedly into the kitchen.

She rubs a hand across her mouth, erasing the taste of him. Stepping neatly out of his grasp, she addresses him with the same look as Newt.

“I don’t know where that–” Theseus stops, wringing his hands together in front of him. One look at her face tells him she doesn’t buy a word of it. “I’m sorry.”

Praying he can’t see the pink tinting her cheeks, she waves away his apology with a shake of her head. There is a sad smile on her face when she speaks. “Thank you for inviting me today but perhaps we shouldn’t be so familiar, Mr. Scamander.”

The formality makes him wince but he nods anyway. Tina and Newt stand behind him, a somewhat anxious look on their faces as she opens the door and hurries out. Theseus leaves soon after and Newt watches him carefully as he goes, wondering when his older brother became a taker too.

That night, Theseus tosses and turns in his bed, restless. The image of her face so close to his just will not go away so he gives in and lets his mind wander in its sleepy haze, thinking of her soft smile and even softer voice – things he will most likely never see or hear again because of how badly he’s ruined things.

And for the first time since her death, Leta seems to leave his thoughts entirely.

-

It happens at one of the annual Ministry gatherings.

Theseus has to beg his little brother to come, never mind having to nearly wrestle him into a proper suit. The affair is a grand one and even Albus Dumbledore attends, pretending not to notice the dirty little looks Travers keeps throwing his way.

He catches a few glimpses of her among the crowd. Theseus wants to convince himself that she keeps popping up by chance but truthfully, it is he who seeks her out. She is as radiant as the sun, standing on one of the balconies overlooking the space, adorned in a gown of pale ivory and a smile that makes Theseus feel warm inside. Things are not so different between them since the encounter but there is an undeniable distance, one that no matter how hard he tries Theseus can’t seem to bridge.

A disturbance on the other side of the hall takes his attention.

It doesn’t make sense to him, how quickly it happens because one moment he’s looking towards the commotion, where he spots none other than Vinda Rosier among the sea of faces and the next, the balcony to his left is collapsing.

A hoarse yell erupts from his mouth and Theseus barely has time to register the shock on her face as the floor gives away with a deafening boom. Pillars of stone and marble fold in on each other and Theseus thinks he’s the one falling, air knocking flat out of his chest as he watches her disappear.

Fear claws at his throat and he feels as though the blue flames are at his feet once more. Hands grab at him, pull him forcefully back but like in the Lestrange Mausoleum, he fights viciously to get to her. The sense of déjà vu that resonates through him makes Theseus go cold.

Plumes of flint coloured smoke rise from the crowd as Grindelwald’s acolytes attempt to escape. Managing to catch two of them mid-disapparition, Theseus barks orders furiously as he rushes towards the rubble. Dust obscures his vision and his ears ring painfully but he counts the injured as best as he can, swallowing hard as the number climbs and climbs.

When he finally finds her, his heart drops to his stomach. She lies between shards of broken stone and blood seeps from a gash on her face, painting her cheeks and hair crimson. Theseus is on his knees in an instant, attempting to pull her out of the debris but her leg is broken from the impact of the fall and twists at the most grotesque angle he’s ever seen. She looks so helpless, so small lying there that in his despair, he almost misses the shallow rise and fall of her chest.

Almost.

Blinking against the dust, she opens her eyes and Theseus chokes out a breath. Tightening his arms around her, he bows his head in relief and the tears on his cheeks wet hers too. Something resembling a smile crosses her face as she brings a hand to grip his and once again, he feels like he’s been here before.

Maybe it’s the way his name falls from her lips or just the feel of her, alive, that prompts him to steal another kiss. Like before, the touch of their lips is as light as a feather but this time it is not a mistake, and the image of her face is not shadowed by a memory.

And when the doctors arrive and Newt is pulling him away so she can be attended to, for the first time, Theseus thinks things might be okay after all.

#theseus scamander #theseus scamander imagines #theseus scamander imagine #theseus x reader #theseus scamander fanfiction #fantastic beasts #crimes of grindelwald #callum turner #fantastic beasts movie #fantastic beasts and where to find them #my writing

[evening-rose-309]

The Crimes of Grindelwald A. K. A. Boi What The Fuck

Okay. I've seen a lot of people do this and I can see why. I just... I have seen this thing that I love and hate and wanna rewrite and mix up, tear apart, and piece back together with tape and kiss and frame it up on my wall when it's done. I need to rant, so here we go;

Part I The Things I Loved

Grindelwald and Queenie, as @thegaypumpingthroughyourveins puts it, 'bitch bros'. I mean seriously. Blonde? Yes. A bit scary? Yes. Their exes left because they're motherfucking bonkers? Most definitely. Absolutely beautiful in their own ways? Yes hon. I just love these two, okay? M'kay, next.

Vinda 'deeply committed' Rosier sneekin' into her country's Ministry like a boss.

Vinda in pants? Oh yes.

Abernathy dressed an old lady? Funny as fuck and Vinda called him 'madame'.

Abernathy getting his tongue cut off in Gellert's place? Bitch, he deserved it. Where is Percy you asshole?!

Nagini being from Indonesia 🇮🇩 (Yes I am proud, don't shun me for loving my country)

Theseus awkwardly hugging Newt.

Leta telling the story of how she exploded dung bombs under her teacher's desk to join Newt in detention.

Leta flashbacks.

Young Newt is precious.

Regular Newt is a cinnamon roll we must protect him.

Newt licking the sidewalk in broad daylight.

Newt and Jacob bromance.

"Follow the feather"

Jacob and Queenie being all "Jacob no!" "He won't mind" "Jacob..."

The Yusuf Kama parasite thing.

"Calamari..."

Newt heeding Jacob's advice on not saying Tina's eyes are like salamander eyes but she figures it out anyway.

Leta finding Newt and Tina at the ministry.

The Lestrange family is fucked up but I love their history and watching purebloods screw each other over for power and revenge is just funny to me I don't know why.

Gellert's escape from MACUSA.

Gellert showing his followers the outcome of WWlI

Gellert chilling on the roof as he waits for Credence.

Credence's face when he see's Gellert.

Gellert and Albus having a blood pact so that they wouldn't fight each other. (@silverynight and @mischiefs-hawk their married aren't they?)

Aurors fucking shit up and proving Gellert's point.

Credence Aurelius Dumbledore exploding a mountain after he is just given a wand.

Gellert giving Cree a wand and a phoenix.

Gellert and Queenie at the end looking at Cree from the crack in the door.

Bunty asking Newt to take off his shirt. (Don't we all want to see that?)

Baby nifflers.

Regular niffler surviving the whole fire scene.

Niffler stealing from Gellert under his nose, literally.

Scamander bros hugging it out after Leta's death.

Nicolas Flamel being random as hell, but I love this wacky centuries old man anyway.

Matagots turning into kittens.

Giant blue fire dragons.

Part ll Things That Annoy Me (Addressed to Gellert Grindelwald)

Gellert, why did you throw the chupacabra out the window? Poor thing just wanted a hug dammit.

Gellert, did you only kill those people because you wanted their apartment? Did you like the wallpaper or something?

Gellert, did you even notice the niffler stealing the blood pact out of your damn pocket? I saw your foot move to make room for it you ass hat what the fuck?

Gellert, are you seriously telling me you need to smoke out of a goddamn skull to show your followers your visions? That is not healthy, what is wrong with you?

Gellert, why did you kill Leta?

Gellert, where the fuck is your goddamn house? I thought it was in the middle of the Baltic Sea not snowy Austria.

Gellert, where is Percival Graves?

Gellert, why did you not finish off Spielman? WHY THE FUCK DID YOU LET HIM HAVE HIS WAND BACK?!

Camera on the Leta scene at Hogwarts was shaky as hell.

Gellert, why are you so blinkered?

Gellert, did you literally name the boy you wanted to kill Dumbledore 'Aurelius Dumbledore'?

The pacing in this movie was a wonderful clusterfuck.

Gellert, did you drug Queenie's tea? Is that why she's acting nuts?

Gellert, did you actually bond with Queenie over your exes? Do not project your heartbreak on that poor woman, she is desperate.

Gellert, did you literally order coffins and a carriage specifically for the bodies of that family you killed? If so, how did you not know about the kid?

Bunty, you look like a nice lady but seriously you are creepy as fuck, not going to lie.

And finally,

Gellert, I am going to blame most of the movie things about scenes, pacing, and camera on the directors, but WHY THE FUCK DOES THE CAMERA FOCUS ONLY ON YOUR FACE?! IT MAKES IT HARD FOR ME AND MY -3 GLASSES TO FOLLOW YOU!

Okay y'all, that's all from me. To tell you the truth, I Loved This Movie. The past few months have been hard on me and seeing this magnificent piece of art had been the break and blessing I needed. I love it, I am going to watch it again. And again. And again. I'm looking forward to the next one.

Listen, for those of you who haven't watched it, sorry for the spoilers, but don't listen to all the critics and the haters. Watch the movie. It has its flaws, but a lot of love went into making it. Please go and enjoy it.

#the crimes of grindelwald #fantastic beasts #gellert grindelwald #albus dumbledore #newt scamander #leta lestrange #tina goldstein #queenie goldstein #jacob kowalski #theseus scamander #nicolas flamel #credence barebone #nagini

[paintingraves]

Crimes of Grindelwald info dump

CAREFUL : SPOILERS ! There’s no structure to this I’m sorry 

the humor is still very present. from newt’s awkward flirting skills to Jacob’s tell-tale high-pitched screams, it’s all here and guaranteed to bring a smile to your face.

seeing Hogwarts again was a great plus as well. Dumbledore as a teacher is a great thing.

Speaking of which Jude Law makes a perfect young Dumbledore. His performance is great, and I wish he’d had more screentime. I’m looking forward to seeing his role grow in further movies.

Credence is GROWING and that’s GREAT even if he MAKES MISTAKES

the baby nifflers - and as a matter of fact, all creatures - are delightful. the CGI is very well-done, and the creativity behind each of them is palatable. I love those guys so much.

Newt and Tina are actually adorable as fuck

Dan Fogler is great. Scratch that, he steals the show. He’s brilliant.

The cinematography, costumes, etc - all that is great as well. it’s believable.

in terms of acting… none of the actors get much screentime. Queenie & Jacob do get some emotional scenes. Credence is very busy making angry murder faces at the camera. I liked Tina as well, but again - not enough screentime.

there’s a lot of new characters being introduced, some who get no more than perhaps ten minutes of screentime as a whole (looking at you Nagini.) We get this whole building plot about Credence being Leta’s long-lost brother, thought dead, only to have it crumble in the last minutes - the same as it was with Credence’s sister Modesty in the first movie who we thought was the Obscurus. Now that worked actually well in FB1 but here it feels… kind of anticlimactic? Leaving you to wonder the whys and the hows because nothing led up to it.

I’d like to know how Credence came to know Nagini and how he found himself working in a circus, as well as how he survived. How?!

Nagini and Credence seem to be close friends, nothing more. Which is good - he could use some good friends, especially given the direction he’s taking. Just wish Nagini had more screentime to really show up the mechanics of their relationship and how close they are, because it really isn’t clear. We’re just supposed to take at face value that they know each other and that’s it.

How did Credence even find his adoption papers? Isn’t he being wanted by every government in the world? How does his status work?

They’re literally sending assassins after him because he’s supposedly Grindelwald’s greatest weapon, which like… chill a bit guys maybe. Rethink this through???

Oh, Grindelwald. Grindelwald is grooming Credence like hell, calling him “my boy” again and again and hugging him and touching him and making promises and Credence is falling for it hook, line and sinker. Someone help him holy shit.

One of the characters that actually does make sense is actually Abernathy. His role is minimal but he does help Grindelwald escape and seems to be given tasks of importance - which seems to be a great deal for a man who, like him, appeared to be no one before. It’s easy to see how he could have been seduced to Grindelwald’s side.

We don’t know much about Rosier yet. She’s just here. Looking pretty and threatening and hinting at her ‘close relationship’ with Grindelwald, whatever that means (I don’t want to think about it.) She seems to be his second-in-command.

I liked the fact that at the end Grindelwald and Queenie are like bros. Bitch bros. That’s wonderful and terrifying.

I didn’t say it enough, but the grooming

There were so many times. So many times where they could have mentioned Percival Graves and what happened to him in passing but not only once. NoT OnLy oNcE

but that’s a whole other headache SO. moving on

Hmmm Leta. What to say about Leta? She’s great. She seems like a good person, and Zoé did a great job portraying her. She’s the one who gets the most emotional scenes, next to Jacob and Queenie. There’s a whole family drama unfolding here (which oooh boi is it complicated) and it’s kind of easy to see how she became the woman she is?

She and Theseus seem to love each other very much. I’m wishing they had had more screentime, the two of them.

Nicolas Flamel is here for comic value.

I loved the relationship between Theseus and Newt. There’s some real brotherly love and character growth in there, and it felt good to see it depicted well.

I’m wondering how powerful that assassin sent by the british minister needed to be to resist the full-blown assault of a grown obscurus. even Grindelwald had trouble doing that. where’s the logic ???

also how did they obliviate the entire city of Paris following that little trick with the dark cloaks inviting people to Grindelwald’s little rendez-vous? Unless it was visible only to wizards, but since they show us an old intrigued man looking out the window I don’t think it was the case. So?

Same thing with the blue fires and red fires in the cemetery - how’re they gonna explain that to the muggle police and fire brigade should they come running?

Bunty is here for comic value.

Newt literally isn’t aware of his own appeal. I’m afraid oblivious!Newt from the fics is sorta canon now.

TINA DOESN’T GET ENOUGH SCREENTIME. She’s one of the characters who, along with Jacob, seems to have her shit together and seems eager to get shit done but we don’t see her progress. The movie prefers to focus on her relationship with Newt - which, don’t get me wrong, they’re adorable as fuck - instead of the much more interesting investigation plot line she has got going on. She’s an Auror; let her be an Auror ! Show us that side of her !

Queenie was certainly… something in this movie. I get the feeling she’s suffering a lot and Grindelwald is the only one, unfortunately, who listens.

Jacob the poor guy goes through a lot in this one too. I don’t know how he’s expected to survive in a world he really shouldn’t be in, and I think he’s starting to realize that. At the end of the movie he looks to be on the verge of a breakdown.

Leta dies sacrificing herself so the others can escape. Which is very noble but… I don’t know how I feel about that one just yet.

Grindelwald and Dumbledore… Hmm. Dumbledore shows us his suffering intimately. It’s a short but intense scene that goes one with him in front of that mirror and it’s a great piece of acting. Seeing Johnny Depp in front of him stiiiiill doesn’t cut it but oH WELL

Seeing Jamie morph into JD was about as bad as seeing Colin Farrell morph into him tbh. It’s unbelievable.

Now Grindelwald… Grindelwald is… He is Grindelwald. He is busy being Grindelwald. He’s not particularly striking but he gets the job done. That’s it.

Sometimes he looks terrifying and sometimes he looks ridiculous. The character design is still a hard pill to swallow.

I got the feeling at some points that Grindelwald worked well when he was doing some Johnny Depp. Like when he asks Queenie if Credence trusts him or when he says “I hate Paris” after killing a dozen people at the end of his rally - that was funny. Unexpected. And it worked well.

For someone who claims they are the non-violent ones he does seems very prone to like, drowning people, killing children and burning people with fire lol - but all that away from the public eye, which is clever. I’d say in Grindelwald’s and his followers’ opinion that rally worked very well. It did what it was meant to - give them an insight into his hopes and beliefs and then scare them into joining his side.

They introduced World War II which, oh boi. Wonder how they’re gonna weave the muggle history and wizarding world plotline together.

Credence joining him also makes sense for his character. He wants to know who he is and Grindelwald offers him that. But Grindelwald plays him so well it’s also very sad to watch it unfold.

Credence is gonna be so powerful growing under his tutelage though.

The actors playing young Newt and Leta were awesome! Very good casting, very believable. Young Newt’s got Eddie Redmayne’s trademark Newt mannerisms down to a point - congrats to them both!

Newt the adult… well he is busy being Newt. He’s quite cute and clumsy, but he still has some growth to do as a protagonist. I like him being the main character though. He’s caring.

Yusuf Kama doesn’t get much screentime either. He’s part of the whole Lestrange family drama plotline. We don’t have time to get attached to the character.

We don’t relate much to any character, actually. Not to Credence, not to Dumbledore, not to any minor new character either. We might relate slightly to Newt’s rivalry with his brother or his difficulties in approaching the woman he likes as well as the difficulties Jacob and Queenie are facing as a couple buuuut that’s pretty much it.

There’s a scene at the beginning when we’re in the carriage and Grindelwald gets illuminated by lightning - he looks properly terrifying. My heart skipped a beat.

Newt and Leta’s relationship is really touching. It’s easy to see how they could have become close friends.

The Ministry trying to recruit Newt into the auror department like you seriously thought that was gonna work ? lmao

Jacob being charmed by Queenie is problematic…. but it’s interesting to see how Queenie evolves, how she could be driven to such desperations. In my opinion Jacob is a bit too quick to forgive something like this lol but yK

Newt just wants to get to Tina and that’s cute

God these two are just terribly awkward

I genuinely thought they were gonna kiss at one point though.

I felt bad for Credence seeing the servant who was a link to his family (or maybe not ahaa SPOILER) die like minutes after he met her. the poor dude.

So Credence is a Dumbledore uh. Wonder how that one skipped past Rita Skeeter’s sharp quill.

Credence blasting that hole in the mountain like YEAH BABY THERE YOU GO !!!!!

The niffler steals the blood pact Grindelwald keeps on him at all times and im like YES BABY THERE YOU GO TOO !!! GOOD BOY !

and idk there’s probably more to say but here you go

Now I’m saying all this but personally I have a really hard time caring about anything I’m saying or any of the characters. But that’s personal. 

#crimes of grindelwald spoilers #tcog spoilers #fb spoilers #fb2 spoilers #fbtcog spoilers #juTS SPOILERS IN GENERAL OKAY #thanks bye #i kinda really want to try to do an articulated review like a movie critic though #but i dont care #slljdksfhsjfjsdf

[aidanchaser]

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets: Everyone Lives AU

Table of Contents beta’d by @ageofzero​

Chapter Five The Whomping Willow

James did not scold the same way Molly Weasley did. He did not get red-faced and shout until he was hoarse. His voice was calm, steady, and Harry thought that made it worse, because it always made him feel guilty. Which is why he was very glad his father was not scolding him tonight.

“How could you?” he said, in a low, disappointed voice. “You knew it was a bad day for Remus, you were supposed to be the responsible adult, there were children and Muggles there — How could you?”

“That’s why,” Sirius protested. “Someone needed to hit Malfoy for being a prejudiced git.”

“That is not your job, Padfoot!” James raised his voice just enough to carry into the kitchen but not quite shouting.

“I’m fine, James,” Remus said from the couch. “And so is Harry.”

Harry looked up from his copy of Magical Me. He was still trying to decide if he would side with Sirius or his dad about Gilderoy Lockhart. “It was great, Dad. Sirius and Mr. Weasley were totally in the right. Someone had to punch Malfoy.”

“Yes, I know Malfoy needs to be punched in the face, but it shouldn’t have been Sirius and it should have been in Diagon Alley. There’s no need to go brawling in bookstores over Malfoy’s bad behavior.”

Sirius waved a hand dismissively. “You’re over-exaggerating.”

“He really isn’t,” Remus said quietly.

Before James and Sirius could start arguing again, Lily came out of the kitchen with a steaming cup in her hand. She handed it to Remus. “It’s best when it’s freshest.”

Remus wrinkled his nose as he took the cup from her. “Best, maybe, but there’s really no way to make it taste good.” He knocked the drink back like a dram of cold medicine, except it was a full glass instead of only a small dosage.

Harry thought Uncle Remus looked even more sick as he handed the glass back to Lily, but Harry understood that the benefits of the potion would be more obvious tomorrow night. One time, he asked if he could try a sip of it, just to see what it was like, but his parents had said no. Lily explained there was aconite in it, which was highly toxic, and they couldn’t be sure how safe it was for anyone else to drink.

“Stay here tonight,” James said.

“I really shouldn’t,” said Remus.

“We insist.” And Lily didn’t give Remus room to argue. She took the glass back into the kitchen.

“Can Sirius stay too?” Harry asked. He wanted to go through the old book with Sirius. He thought the present would be more exciting if he could share it with Sirius.

James, however, did not seem thrilled about the idea of Sirius spending the night.

“I think,” Remus said slowly, “Sirius might be in the doghouse.”

When Lily came back into the living room, Sirius was on the floor laughing, and James had taken a seat on the couch, shaking from restrained laughter. She clearly didn’t know what had ended the fighting, but she seemed glad they were in better spirits.

That night, Lily made up a spare room for Remus, and James prepared a room for Sirius.

The next night, James and Sirius went to stay with Remus, leaving Lily and Harry home alone.

She helped him through his school work and frowned at the list of textbooks for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

“Sirius said Dad likes him,” Harry said.

“Your father likes excitement and Lockhart writes adventure stories, but they’re hardly textbooks for Defense Against the Dark Arts. If I’d realized he was your new Defense teacher, I’d have had a few more words for Dumbledore the other day!”

“What did you and Dumbledore talk about?” Harry asked. “Was it about Dobby? Because I’m sure that was just Draco Malfoy playing a stupid prank on me.”

Lily leaned over the table to brush Harry’s bangs out of his face. “Dumbledore and your father and I all agree that Hogwarts is the best place for you right now, and he assured us they would take extra precautions. Though I’m not sure I should send you off to learn from Lockhart, when I can teach you far better at home.”

“Why don’t you teach at Hogwarts?” Harry suggested. “At least you’d be better than Professor Quirrell. And you and Dad are both Order of Merlin. That makes you qualified, right?”

She laughed lightly. “I’m not sure I have the patience to teach a classroom full of rowdy students.”

“You’ve got patience with me and Dad.”

“Yes, but I love you and your dad. It makes a difference.” She smiled and kissed Harry’s forehead. “Remus would make a far better teacher than I would.”

“Why doesn’t he?” Harry was quite glad to be off the subject of his homework. “Uncle Remus would be a really good teacher.”

Lily tapped her fingers on the table thoughtfully. “He thinks his condition makes it impossible for him to teach, and that it would be unwise for him to go to Hogwarts.”

“He just gets a little sick,” Harry shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. It’s not like he can help it.”

“I agree.” Lily smiled a sad sort of smile, and Harry wondered what she was thinking. He knew that the sort of people who didn’t approve of his mother were also the sort of people who didn’t approve of Uncle Remus. People like Draco and his father. People like Sirius’s family.

Harry had heard a few stories about Remus’s transformations from his father and from Sirius. He knew that was where the dog jokes came from, and why James laughed every time Lily called him, “dear.” He wondered how much worse it had been without the potion. Harry tried to imagine what it would be like, at his age, to be that sick every month, with no potion to help. Harry had read enough horror stories about vicious werewolves, and enough articles in the back of the Daily Prophet to get an idea of how terrifying it must have been.

He picked up one of his textbooks, Wandering with Werewolves, and opened it curiously. It fell open of its own accord to an illustration of Gilderoy Lockhart facing about six or seven fully-transformed werewolves. The werewolves were particularly nasty looking, with fangs bared and drool dripping from blood-stained teeth that still held bits of what was either flesh or fabric. Gilderoy Lockhart stood between them and the viewer, but he was looking back over his shoulder and winking with his wand flourished. Harry thought it was not only a poor representation of werewolves, but a poor way to face any attacking monster.

He closed the book and looked at Lily. “Why don’t all werewolves do what Uncle Remus does?”

Lily picked up Marauding with Monsters and frowned at the cover. “The Wolfsbane potion is both very expensive and very difficult to brew. And it needs to be taken every day for the week leading up to the transformation. If Remus didn’t have your father to pay for it and me to brew it every month, it’s unlikely he could afford it.”

“Did you have to brew it when he was at school too?”

“No, the potion is a rather recent invention. I wasn’t close to Remus then, but I believe his transformations when he was in school were very hard for him.”

“But then Dad and Sirius helped, right?” Harry knew a little bit about James and Sirius being Animagi. James didn’t transform often — he once mentioned it was illegal — but he and Sirius frequently made jokes about their forms. Like the doghouse joke from yesterday. And Sirius had been happy to let Harry ride around on his large, Irish Wolfhound form when Harry had been small enough, or even been a very large, warm, soft pillow when Harry needed help falling asleep.

“What your father and Sirius did was very dangerous. They could have killed themselves, and if anyone found out, they might’ve gone to prison.”

“But it was for a good cause,” Harry said. “Helping Uncle Remus “

Lily sighed. “You and your father are too much alike sometimes.”

“I only had one detention last year,” Harry protested.

“I just mean that you’ll both do anything to protect people you care about. Well, I suppose I can’t fault him for that. I’d do it, too.” But she seemed sad when she said it. She tossed Marauding with Monsters back into Harry’s pile of school books. “Let’s do something productive. Like Potions homework.”

Harry groaned loudly and dramatically dropped his head to the table. “I hate Potions.”

“If you get top marks this year, I’ll show you how to make the Wolfsbane potion.”

This perked Harry right up. He went through his Potions homework with a renewed interest, though he was sure when he got to school and had to face Snape, it wouldn’t help.

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Summer ended far too quickly.

As much as Harry wanted to go back to Hogwarts and see his friends, he would miss home, and motorcycle rides with Sirius, and Quidditch with his dad, and cooking with his mother. He was excited about his new book though.

“Book” wasn’t exactly the best word for it. It had pages that looked like they were part of a journal. Other pages looked like they’d been ripped out of spellbooks and sewn into the new book. Some pages were not sewn in very well, and would fall out if not carefully tucked when the book was closed. Between some pages were letters with names on them that Harry was familiar with, like Malfoy, Black, and Prewett. Then there were names Harry was not familiar with, like Lestrange and Rosier. And the dates on them went as far back as the seventeenth century.

Harry had gone through the book with Sirius, which was good, because Sirius weeded out some of the nastier letters that had been tucked away between the leather bindings. Harry thought the older ones really belonged in a museum, but Sirius said, as he burned them with a small incendiary charm, “There’s no sense in preserving pureblood drivel.”

Sirius also managed to mark the particularly dark spells, and warn Harry about a few that were too risky for a second yearn to try. Harry was proud that Sirius trusted him with the knowledge of those spells, and that pride was enough of a deterrent from using them. For now, at least.

That, and his mother still promised to teach him the Wolfsbane Potion if he did well in Potions, and his father had promised him a Nimbus 2001 if Harry didn’t get any detentions this year.

“Even for a good cause, like smuggling a dragon out of school?” Harry had asked, and James had hesitated, but eventually nodded. “Even for a good cause.”

Harry was determined to stay out of trouble.

The problem was, trouble came looking for Harry.

It started when he tried to get on the Hogwarts Express. James, Lily, Harry, Sirius, and Remus all made good time to the station. It was only ten-thirty. But when Harry pushed his cart against the barrier between platforms nine and ten, instead of passing through to platform nine-and-three-quarters, his cart crashed to the ground.

There was a huge delay, with wizards struggling to fix whatever had gone wrong, and by ten-forty-five, the barrier was repaired and a dozen students and parents rushed to get to the train.

Harry took a seat in the back again, and Ron and Hermione joined him shortly. They exchanged stories about the end of their summer.

“I wish you guys could’ve come visit,” Harry said. “Maybe for Christmas. We can play Quidditch and explore the woods.”

Hermione was not very impressed.

“My parents have a big library, too,” Harry said, and Hermione at least seemed interested in that.

Harry told them about his gift from Sirius, and showed Hermione and Ron some of the spells and letters.

“You’re not going to try some of these,” Hermione said.

“I might,” Harry grinned. “Sirius told me there were some safe ones. I should probably check with Uncle Remus first, though.”

Ron looked over a page that had fallen out on the floor. It looked like notes for a dark spell. “Sirius Black is cool, but Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon say the Black family was pretty messed up. I don’t know, Harry, you might want to — Ow, Scabbers —” He shoved his weasel back into his bag.

When the train arrived at the platform, instead of being escorted to the boats like their freshman year, they were led to horseless carriages that pulled themselves up towards the castle.

“I wonder what makes them go,” Hermione asked as the car lurched forward.

“Magic, isn’t it?” Ron asked impishly.

Hermione sniffed and turned her nose up. Harry was quite busy poring over a letter from Regulus Black to a woman named Narcissa Black. The tone of the letter was very intimate, and he was trying to figure out who they were. Based on the dates, they must’ve been in school around the same time as Sirius. But Sirius never talked much about his family, and this book made Harry all the more curious. He didn’t even notice Scabbers had slipped out of Ron’s pocket and was sniffing the pages.

Then, suddenly, Scabbers took the corner of one of the pages in his mouth and leapt out of the carriage.

“Hey!” Harry jumped after Scabbers. The papers in the leatherbound notebook went flying. Hermione tried to grab them as Harry tumbled out of the moving carriage and ran after Scabbers.

“Ron, call your weasel!”

“He never listens to me,” Ron said.

But Harry barely heard him. He was too busy running after Scabbers. He’d never known Ron’s weasel to nibble on parchment before. He wondered what had gotten into the old thing.

Harry felt like he had chased it halfway across the grounds before he managed to pounce on it. He wrapped his hands around Scabbers middle, but before he could even stand he heard something creak and groan. He barely managed to roll aside before a large tree branch smashed down to the ground. Harry got up and ducked as the large, gnarled tree swiped at him.

He was still clutching Scabbers tightly as he jumped out of the tree’s reach. The weasel squeaked in his hands and squirmed. Harry held Scabbers in one hand and reached down to pick up the letter Scabbers had dropped. He kept his eyes on the tree. It seemed still. He stepped forward and one of the branches slammed down. He barely managed to jump out of the way.

A little shaken, Harry managed to walk back to the path. Fred and George were in the carriage passing by with Lee Jordan.

“Harry! What happened to you?” Fred laughed.

George reached a hand down and helped him in. “This is the last carriage, mate. Don’t want to miss the feast.”

“It’s Ginny’s sorting,” Fred grinned and winked at George.

“Watcha got there?” Lee asked and pointed at Scabbers.

“Ron’s weasel,” Harry sighed. “He ran off with my letter. Don’t know what’s got into him. I nearly got smashed by a tree.”

“The Whomping Willow!” Fred said.

“No way,” said George. “That’s incredible.”

“It didn’t hit you or anything?” Lee asked. “I got a black eye my first year, trying to touch the trunk.”

“Madam Pomfrey threw a right fit about that,” Fred laughed.

“There’s supposed to be a secret passage beneath it,” George said, “but we’ve never been able to get to it. That Whomping Willow guards her secrets well.”

Harry laughed the whole way up to the castle. He loved hanging out with Fred and George and Lee. It was never a dull moment. They told Lee about stealing the flying car, asked Harry if he had any new tricks for Quidditch, and plotted an entirely new set of strategies for facing the Whomping Willow.

Once inside the Great Hall, Harry found Ron and Hermione again. He handed Scabbers to Ron, and Hermione handed him his journal. She’d put the scattered pages back in and re-bound it. Harry slipped the letter back inside, but left the corner tucked so he could read it later.

No one was surprised when Ginny was sorted into Gryffindor. Fred and George cheered the loudest, of course, but Ron and Harry were right behind them.

In the common room, Harry told Hermione and Ron about the Whomping Willow. Hermione tapped her fingers on one of the books in her lap.

“That’s odd,” she said, “that they would have such a dangerous tree on school grounds.”

“The last time we found something like that was Fluffy,” Ron said, and his face was a little green.

“I wonder what it’s protecting.” Harry looked thoughtfully out the window.

“No,” Hermione said very quickly. “No, you’re not going to go down there to find what it’s protecting, and you will not take the cloak down there just to see if it will still sense you.”

Harry laughed, because that was exactly what he’d been wondering. “Yeah, I don’t want a detention again.” He was still dreaming about that Nimbus 2001. “So no sneaking out. But maybe if we go on Saturday, just to see what would happen.”

“You’ve got Quidditch practice on Saturday, mate,” Ron said, and Harry sighed.

They went to bed late that night, when the excitement of Hogwarts and being amongst friends was finally beginning to wear off. Harry drew the curtains around his bed and whispered, “Lumos.”

His wand lit up and he pulled out the letter Scabbers had snatched from the book.

October 31, 1979

Dear Barty,

Don’t. I mean it. I grew up with Bellatrix and she’s only gotten worse since she left home. She’s volatile and unpredictable, and the reason she’s the Dark Lord’s right hand has nothing to do with her blood and everything to do with how easily she spills it. She’s not the sort of person you want to follow closely, if only because she might turn around and bite you for her own gain. There are better ways to advance than following her heels.

I hope you and your family enjoyed a pleasant Halloween. It’s strange to be home again instead of at Hogwarts together. Our Halloween here was rather quiet. Father’s health is failing, and Mother was in an especially sour mood. But fall is always hard for her. I know you don’t like when I talk about my brother, but sometimes I think she’d rather I was the one who ran away. Sirius and Mother may not have got on well, but they were so much more alike than her and I are. She would’ve preferred him as the family heir than me.

But hopefully that will change. The Dark Lord has requested the use of our House Elf for a task he said was very important. I’m expecting Kreacher to return shortly with news about this task and hopefully information that will allow me a little more political power. I know you’re more interested in hexes, but I’m interested in change. It’s the system that needs fixing and hexing Mudbloods isn’t the answer. I don’t know how many ways I can explain that to you.

I imagine you’ll be at your father’s next campaign, and I know Mother will attend as well. Father may not be well enough, so I’ll likely have to go in his place. I know you hate them, but go. We can talk more in person than over a few sheets of parchment.

Sincerely, Regulus Black

#harry potter and the chamber of secrets #hp fic #harry potter #hp everyone lives #hp

[amarauder]

chapter thirteen | original

"Now, y/n, you know we made that truce," said James, pouting, as he dragged his trunk onto the Hogwarts Express.

"So?" Y/n heaved her trunk up and started to drag it across compartments, looking for an empty one.

"So we're supposed to be at least on civil speaking terms," explained James slowly.

"What's your point, Pot—James?" Y/n still found it a bit difficult to call James by his given name.

"You're not exactly acting 'civil' to me here, Y/n."

"I'm not? I'm calling you by your first name, and I'm not throwing hexes at you. What more do you want?"

"Oh, but we shared such tender moments for the last few weeks. So...perhaps friends?"

"In your dreams, Potter."

"There you go again!" cried James. "I'm James, not Potter."

"Whatever. Now, where is Bella? She's gone off with Sirius to snog, no doubt. Maybe one day they can actually kiss normally, not snog passionately, touching each other at inappropriate places." Y/n shuddered.

"Oh, but aren't us boys perverts, Y/n?" teased James, grinning. "You said so yourself yesterday, when Sirius suggested to Bella that they should get some time alone in the same room."

"Well, Mum was definitely going to faint when she heard that," said Y/n, chuckling. "Went completely white and fled to her room. Petunia wasn't so—er—calm about it either."

"Considering that she jumped up and started calling us idiots, morons, freaks, and perverted people who only think of the 's' word."

"It's sad, isn't it?" Y/n sighed. "Well, we'd better find a compartment soon, or else—"

She stopped immediately, staring across at the people sitting in the compartment that they were currently in.

James squinted and saw that it was Remus laughing and joking with an unknown girl. The girl kissed him and smiled happily, but they both froze at the sight of Y/n and James staring at them.

"Y/n, James, it isn't what it looks like," begged Remus, his eyes wide.

Y/n snapped out of her trance. "You know, Remus, I thought you were the decent sort, but I thought wrong. How can you do this to Jennifer? I thought she meant a lot to you, considering how much you guys cuddled over the summer. You guys were just snogging this morning at breakfast."

"I—"

"Remus, you're cheating on Jennifer for—her?" James looked at the girl next to him in disgust.

The girl jumped, looking frightened. "I—I didn't know Remus had a g-girlfriend," she stuttered. Her pale fingers twisted loose strands of curls on her forehead, and her dark gray eyes were wide. "Really—honestly—"

Y/n's eyes softened. "All right, we won't tell Jennifer, but you'd better have a good excuse for her, Remus, since she's probably wondering where you are right now."

Remus glanced at the girl and sighed. "Listen, Tara, I'll see you later, all right? I'm going to go find my friends."

"And girlfriend," added James, still scowling at the small girl. They left the compartment, leaving Tara alone.

"Who's Tara and why were you two cuddling?" asked Y/n snappishly as they went in search of the rest of their friends.

"Tara's my neighbor," said Remus calmly, "and we're really good friends, soon to become cousins, since my only unmarried aunt is getting married to her widowed father."

"Well, cousins can date too, you know," said James grumpily.

Remus laughed. "We're not dating, you goof. She's going to be my cousin! Relatives don't marry each other. Besides, she's like a sister to me, since my only one died when I was nine." His eyes became cloudy.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Remus!" exclaimed Y/n, enveloping him in a hug. "I never knew that you had a sister, and I'm really sorry for jumping into conclusions too fast. I guess I'm just overprotective about my friends."

"Yeah, I'm sorry too," mumbled James.

"Remus!" They turned around to see Jennifer running towards them anxiously. Her thick blond hair was loose all over her face, as her blue eyes scanned them. "Oh, James, Y/n, where were you guys?"

The trio glanced at each other. "We were just looking for you. Remus came along after he found us pass him."

Jennifer glanced at Remus suspiciously. "And you were looking for me for this long? It doesn't take half an hour to search the train!"

"I was talking to my cousin, Tara, about Hogwarts," said Remus quickly. "She's starting her first year, you know."

"Tara Jettison? Isn't she your neighbor, Remus?"

"Well, she's going to be my cousin soon, since my aunt is marrying her father. It'll just be like having a sister again."

Jennifer bit her lip, shuddering. Remus had told her about sweet Sarah Lupin, who had been a year younger than him, and how she suddenly disappeared when he was only nine. Now five years has passed, and Remus assumed her as dead.

"I'm sorry if I reminded you about Sarah, Remus," she said quietly, kissing him on the cheek. "I was just—worried. You know me."

"Yeah," said Remus sadly, his eyes casting a faraway look. "It's all right, I just—I just loved Sarah so much before she...died."

"Remus, just let it out," said Y/n softly.

"I'm not going to cry," he said hastily, rubbing his eyes and making sure there weren't any tears. "I just miss her, that's all. I'm not sad about her dying; I'm just really lonely sometimes without her company. Tara's like Sarah all over again, and it gives me a lot of comfort to feel her presence. I'm not cheating on you, Jen, like a certain h/c-head and black-head seemed to think."

Jennifer laughed, while Y/n and James both turned equal shades of red, scowling.

"Humph! Where were you guys?" It was Arabella, and behind her was Sirius, and both had on a worried expression.

"We thought you guys had missed the train or something!" she exclaimed wildly. "Thanks for worrying us so much."

"Where's Violet and Peter?" asked Y/n immediately, suddenly remembering her other two friends.

"They're in our compartment right now. Honestly, Y/n, at least you should've had enough sense to look for us! Where we all of you? Jen, I told you not to go gallivanting off to find your beloved Remus. Well, now that you guys found each other, why didn't you go and find us? We weren't so important, huh? Huh?"

"Bella, stop hyperventilating," said Sirius good-humoredly. "Now that we found them, let's all go back to our compartment. Those four were probably out having a double-snog date or something."

"I wouldn't be talking, Sirius," snapped James, as they all headed off to the compartment. "You and Bella were probably off doing the same thing. Poor Violet and Peter."

"Well, they were getting pretty passionate too, you know," argued Sirius, while the rest laughed. "What?"

"Violet's too sensible and Peter's too shy to get involved in something like snogging," said Y/n, grinning.

"Yeah? Well, they were holding hands!"

"How passionate," said Jennifer dryly, while Arabella sniggered.

"Actually, they weren't very passionate, but they still sort of like each other. I heard that Dumbledore's hosting a ball next year!"

"How exciting," said Y/n sarcastically. "We get to wear pretty dress robes and be all caked with makeup! I'm so excited!"

"Aww...N/n, just go with James if Snape asks you," said Jennifer, grinning.

"WHAT?"

"Oh, come on N/n, it's not like James will have a date by then, anyway. Besides, it's next year, what are you fretting about?"

"Hey!" cried James. "I can too get a date!"

"You turn girls down when they ask you to a date to Hogsmeade," said Arabella coolly. "I suppose that's your proof that you can get a date. You turn down everyone, for heaven's sake! When can you not turn down a girl and just take her?"

"Fine," huffed James. "I'll say 'yes' to the first girl who asks me to a date, whether she's pretty or ugly or whatever."

"If you lose, you owe me a Galleon."

"Since when did we make this a bet?"

"Since now."

"Can we change the topic?" asked Y/n loudly.

"If you're getting bored, Y/n, you can always join us," said a silky voice from behind. It was Snape and the rest of his gang, and they were grinning down at the six evilly.

"Get away from us, Snape!" snapped Y/n. "Don't think I didn't forget out little incident this summer..."

"Oh, but why should you care, Y/n? After all, it was only a threat to Potter, not you."

"They don't hate each other anymore, Snape, so of course Y/n should care," said Sirius quickly. He wanted to see the priceless look on Snape's face.

"Y-you guys are friends?" he mumbled.

Y/n shrugged. "Not necessarily friends, but on speaking terms."

"What's the difference?"

"We don't help each other out like friends would. Or actually like each other as friends do, for the matter. We're just civil to each other, then."

"Well, sooner or later, L/n, you'll regret your decision," spat Rosier, glaring. "One of these days, L/n, you'll wish that you had joined us, since the Dark Lord is gaining power from his followers." His eyes had an odd shine to it.

James raised his eyebrows. "Oh, really? That bozo, gain power? Ha, what a laugh!"

"James," snapped Peter nervously. "D-don't get them r-riled up like t-that."

"Is Pettigrew scared?" mocked Lestrange, stepping forward, smirking. "Really, Pettigrew, with a heart like yours..." He leaned forward and whispered quietly, so that only Peter could here, "...the Dark Lord may find it quite useful one of these days, since you're so close to Potter."

Peter just gulped, looking frightened. (A/N: Die, Peter! I'm glad that he's scared!)

Arabella glared down at the Slytherins. "Look, you slimy gits either state why you're here, or leave—simple as that. Surely Slytherins aren't that thick to understand what I just said, are they?"

Wilkes sneered down at her. "You Gryffindors are so cocky over yourselves, thinking that you're so perfect. Well, soon you lot will be the first to go once the Dark Lord gets a hold of Hogwarts. Of course, the Mudbloods go first before anyone else does." He glanced at Y/n.

Snape tensed and looked over at Y/n, too. "Perhaps we should leave, Wilkes."

"Why, Snape? Scared of the Mudblood? I wouldn't be still mooning over her, since the Dark Lord will be ridding of her first."

"Y-you're right, of course," he stuttered. "But...let's leave Potter to his romantic moments again." He made an attempt to sneer.

"Ah, but of course." Malfoy then stepped forward, grinning maliciously. "Perhaps we shall show Potter some of our new powers that the Dark Lord gave us—and our new names."

"Which ones?" asked Y/n scathingly. "Slimy gits, empty-headed, or 'I'm-So-Evil-That-Everyone-Thinks-I'm-Stupid'?"

The Marauders and the girls all laughed, while Y/n smiled triumphantly at the stunned Slytherins.

"No half-Mudblood is going to insult us," snapped Rosier. "We fashion ourselves a name—Death Eaters, loyal to our Master."

"All right, this is such a waste of time. You—you Slytherins all go away! Now!" Y/n was furious.

Snape's gang shot her a last nasty look, besides Snape, and ventured out the compartment sullenly.

"Way to go, Y/n!" exclaimed Arabella. "I was wishing those gits would get out of here soon enough."

"It wasn't too hard," said James smoothly. "All you do is tell them to go away."

"We've already told them that three times, but Y/n actually got them to go," retorted Bella.

Y/n waved her arm aside. "Whatever. You two stop arguing, or else I'll—"

"You know, N/n," said Violet suddenly, coming out of her usual daze. "You're the one who's always arguing with James, so why are you telling Bella?"

"I—" Y/n was about to give her a logical answer, but found out that she had none. "Oh, never mind."

"Ha, ha!" cried Jennifer gleefully. "The great Y/n Potter has been thwarted by the logical Violet Walker! Priceless!"

"Oh, Jen." Y/n sighed. "Will you ever grow up?"

"I doubt it. But I sure wouldn't want to be like you now, or else I'll end up a stiff old lady. You and Violet will probably end up like one of those old ladies who carry a large handbag around and wobble up and down the street, hoping to be killed."

Arabella snorted. Jennifer was too—Jennifer. It was quite sad how she becomes joyful one moment and cynical the next. Good thing Remus was there to calm her down and have her loosen up towards boys.

"Hey, Y/n," said James suddenly, "I heard that you were going to be made a prefect next year."

"Oh?" Y/n perked up. "And where did you hear this?"

"Dad told me."

"How would he know?"

"Because he works at the Ministry, and they make the list of Prefects for next year every year. He showed it to me when he saw your name."

"When did he show it to you? You were at my house the whole summer!"

"Oh—er—" James scratched his head. "Oh, it was—um—well, I forgot! Anyway, you're Prefect next year."

Y/n rolled her eyes. "I don't believe you. You're making this all up."

"Well, obviously. April Fool's!" he cried.

Y/n raised her eyebrows. "Er—James? It's September, not April."

The rest of the Marauders and the girls laughed, while Y/n smirked triumphantly at James.

He was very much embarrassed. "Well...fine, I'll save it for April then!" He pouted.

"Well, well, well." They all turned around to see Amos Diggory sneering at them. "If it isn't the dream team, always having your ways with everyone at Hogwarts." He glanced over at Arabella, shaking his head and then at Y/n, grinning. "Well, Y/n, I see that you aren't steady with anyone yet. Care to go to the first Hogsmeade trip with me?" He extended his arm to her, but she didn't take it.

"I'm sorry, Amos," she replied frostily. "But I think it'll ruin my reputation by dating someone like you. Maybe next time I'll actually consider it for one more second."

Jennifer stifled a laugh, and Amos looked her way. Jennifer wasn't as popular as Y/n and Arabella were to the male species at Hogwarts, but nevertheless, she was still attractive to most. She suddenly stopped laughing, seeing that Amos' gray eyes were fixed on her blue ones. "Yes?" she asked innocently.

"Maybe you'd like to go to Hogsmeade with me," he said, flashing her one of his famous smiles that melted every girl's heart.

Jennifer reached out for Remus' hand, and said coolly, "Maybe I wouldn't. Don't you know? I already have someone that I love." She smiled at Remus lovingly, cuddling closer toward him.

Amos snorted in disgust. "How can you girls refuse someone like me? You three are the most popular girls at school, and yet you would rather date the Marauders than someone like Kevin Patil or me. Well, there's no one left except for that disgraceful, no good girl sitting over there next to loser Pettigrew."

Violet jumped, and her lip began to tremble. Her dark brown eyes flashed angrily at him. "You know what? You just think you're so Mr. I'm-So-Wonderful, but you're not! You're just a low-life rascal who plays with girls' hearts one by one until you've broken them all. Why should my friends or me date someone like you, then? Huh? That's a question that even Y/n, James, or Sirius can't figure out, and they're the geniuses of Hogwarts! You just feel like you need to make fun of people like me. Well, you're not cool, Diggory. You're just a low-life jerk."

Everyone stood in stunned silence. Violet was more furious than they had ever seen her, even more furious when she stood against James or the Slytherins. Amos was surprised to see the quiet one of the girls so loud and outspoken. His lips curved into a smile.

"Not that quiet field mouse that you want people to assume about you, eh? I like feisty girls." He moved closer, but Violet pushed him back.

"Leave my friends and I alone, Diggory, or you'll get trouble from me." She drew out her wand and pointed it threateningly at Amos' chest.

Amos huffed and stalked out of the compartment without another word. There were a few more minutes of silence, but then the Marauders and the girls all cheered.

"You sure showed Diggory, Vi!" appraised Jennifer enthusiastically. "Now he'll probably never bother us again after what you did."

Violet flushed. "Do you really think so?"

"I know so."

"Knowing Diggory, he'd probably come crawling back to you girls again," said James pessimistically. "But the Marauders will protect you!"

"Oh, I feel so protected," said Y/n sarcastically.

Before the both of them could start another argument, the lights on the Hogwarts Express started to flicker. Suddenly, everything went black, as the train slowed down.

"What's happening?" screamed Arabella. "Sirius? Where are you?"

"Right here, Bella," came a muffled voice on the other side of the compartment.

"Where?"

"Here."

"Where's here, you idiot?"

"QUIET!" yelled James. The eight of them became silent.

The driver was speaking through the whole train. "Please remain calm everyone. I'm afraid there's been a shortage of powder, and the train's run out of fuel..."

Everyone groaned, and Y/n questioned, "Fuel? I didn't know you guys used fuel for transportation!"

From somewhere in a corner, James replied dryly, "Well, we don't use magic as the solution to everything, you know. When will you learn, Y/n?"

"Yes, Mudblood, when will you learn?" A soft glow came, as a dark figure glided toward them. As the person lifted his hood, his face appeared—Voldemort.

"Oh, it's you," snapped James. "What do you want this time?"

"Why, don't be so impertinent, Mr. Heir," he mocked. "All I ask you is to join me. There are advantages to this. You and your little friends won't be harmed, as well as anyone connected to you won't be, either. Only my enemies shall be killed and tortured."

James narrowed his eyes. "Why should I believe you?"

"Because I am Lord Voldemort."

"So?"

"Master?" It was Snape and his gang standing at the doorway, looking shocked.

"Ah, Severus. How nice to see you again."

"What do you want from my friend?" demanded Sirius angrily, glaring at Voldemort. "Leave him alone, or else I'll be dealing with you."

Voldemort raised his eyebrows. "I will leave now, Severus. But I will be back, Potter." He disappeared with a faint 'pop'!

A couple of weeks passed since the incident on the Hogwarts Express, and fourth year was in full swing. They all had more work than ever, and everyone, with the exception of Y/n, were groaning and complaining over it all.

"It's really not that bad," said Y/n enthusiastically, as the eight of them worked on a nasty Potions essay in the library one day.

"Easy for you to say," said Arabella, staring blankly into One Thousand Herbs and Fungi and scribbling words onto her parchment. "You're at the top of the class next to James and Sirius. You're good at everything, N/n. Please respect the fact that not everyone is like you."

"Oh, sorry, Bella," apologized Y/n sheepishly.

A bang was heard as Sirius slammed the book shut impatiently. "That's it, I've had it! I can't stand this work any longer! I'll be off in the common room..."

"Snogging with a girl?" supplied Arabella coolly.

Sirius stared at her, and then grinned. "Aww...you know I'd never, Bells. Only with you."

"I've seen you look at that Lori Paterson from Ravenclaw quite a lot lately."

He tensed, but faked a smile. "I'd never, Bella."

She rolled her eyes. "Su-re. Whatever, I'm going to go back to work."

Sirius rushed out of the library eagerly. A bit too eager, thought Y/n. I sense that something not so good is going to happen soon.

Sure enough, the delightful scream of a girl echoed through the corridors, and Y/n heard the laugh of Sirius along with it.

"What the hell is going on out there?" hissed Arabella. They all followed her out of the library just in time to see Sirius' lips on the one and only Lori Paterson's.

Her eyes filled with tears. "SIRIUS BLACK!"

Sirius jumped and looked at his girlfriend, his eyes widening. "No, no, Bella, this isn't what it looks like."

"Oh, isn't it?" Her eyes flashed. "That's it, Sirius. We've broken up and gotten together again twice, but it isn't happening a third time." She glared at her friends to emphasize more. "It's over between us—forever. You can go snog as many girls as you want now, Sirius. You're free from the burdens of old Arabella Figg." She pushed through the couple and headed toward Gryffindor Tower.

Y/n's eyes burned into Sirius'. "I can't believe you did that, Sirius. After all those intimate moments you've shared with my best friend...you risk her affection with your hormonal desires?" She shoved him to the ground roughly, glared at James, Remus, and Peter, as if to say, "You'd better watch it, too", and went after her friend.

Lori looked awkwardly at the tense silence. "Sirius, you never told me you already had a girlfriend. I can't believe you did that to Arabella and I. She's a good girl, and you risked it just to snog with me? And now I've just found out that you 'had' a girlfriend. Well, Sirius, now you've lost both of us." She bit her lip and ran off to where the Ravenclaw common room was.

Finally, James spoke up. "That was low, Sirius. Real low."

"I know," his best friend sighed. "I don't know what I was thinking. Y/n's right, my hormones are definitely taking the better of me. If I liked Arabella that much, then my hormones wouldn't have taken over. I feel so ashamed." He buried his face in his arms.

Remus looked at him sympathetically. "Don't worry, Sirius. Arabella will forget about this soon enough and you two will get back together again." But James saw doubt and worry in those gray eyes of his friend's, as he looked at Sirius comfortingly.

Sirius shook his head. "No, she'll never forgive me. Bella's right, I'm such an idiot, and I definitely don't deserve her. I may as well rot to the earth and die."

"She'll be over it." They turned around to see Jennifer speaking. Her eyes were red. "I know Bella. She'll forgive you, but it'll be a long time before she even thinks about it. Why did you do it, Sirius? Now you have two girls against you."

He shook his head. "I'm an idiot. Just—let me think this over, all right?"

Jennifer nodded, and leaned against Remus. "You can have all the time you need, Sirius. Because I have a feeling that it's going to take Bella quite a while to forgive you."

"But you said—"

"I said she'll forgive you eventually," she said quietly, "but just not soon."

Sirius sighed. "I deserved it."

Meanwhile, back in the fourth year's girls' dormitory, Y/n was trying to comfort her friend.

"Arabella Figg, stop being so stubborn! I know what Sirius did was wrong, but you know he didn't mean it. If he could choose between a life of snogging and a life with you, he would definitely pick the latter. You know he lo—likes you to death."

Bella raised up her defiant face, but Y/n could see traces of tears in them. "I don't care. He can have all the girls in this whole school for all I care. Maybe I shouldn't have chased away Amos." She sighed.

Y/n stared at her. "You know you hate Diggory—and every other boy you've dated. Forget about them. You know Sirius needs you."

Arabella laughed bitterly. "Ha! If he needs me, then why did he go off and snog Lori Paterson? And lied to me about it?"

Y/n stayed silent, not having an answer for her questions.

Suddenly, the dormitory door burst open, revealing the Marauders, followed by Jennifer and Violet. The girls quickly sat at their respected four-poster beds, while the boys shifted uncomfortably through the tension that was nearly visible in the air.

"Well?" snapped Arabella. "What do you four want?"

Sirius stepped up, gulping. "I-I wanted to say that I'm sorry," he stuttered nervously.

"Oh, really? Well, that's nice to hear. Now, go away and snog some girls; you're wasting my good afternoon."

"But—"

She stepped right in front of him, motioned the rest of the boys to follow, and said "Good day", before slamming the door in front of their faces.

"Sirius feels really bad about it, Bella," said Violet quietly, as Arabella returned, rather red-faced.

"I'm not really in the mood, Vi." Her voice sounded tired.

Y/n sighed. Her best friend was feeling terrible about snapping at Sirius, but she knew that Bella only did it so Sirius couldn't hurt her anymore. Suddenly, out of the blue, her mind shifted to James, and how he's probably pondering the same thing at this very moment.

Why am I thinking about him? He's only Potter, after all, she thought.

Not much really happened for the next few weeks. The rest of the school had recovered from the shock when they first saw Y/n and James acting civil to each other at breakfast. Hurst had nearly fallen off his chair at the staff table, while McGonagall had wiped her spectacles at least three times. Dumbledore, of course, smiled knowingly at the two speaking politely to each other, mildly amused by everyone's reactions.

"Why doesn't everyone just bloody stop staring at me?" grumbled Y/n, as she sat down for breakfast a week later. "What is it with people these days?"

"Well, N/n," said Arabella, trying not to laugh, "you and James are acting civil and polite to each other. That's something that doesn't happen every day. I mean, usually you two just start arguing every time you see each other. It's not natural to see you two being nice to each other."

"Well, they'll have to get used to it, then," snapped Y/n.

As if to make matters worse, James came trotting to them with Sirius behind him. "Hey Lily!" he said enthusiastically.

"James," replied the h/c, nodding curtly.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Why?"

"You look so—down."

The flower sighed. "Ah, but don't I always? Nothing's going right these days." She looked over at Arabella and Sirius sitting at opposite ends, not making eye contact at all.

James saw too, and sighed wistfully. "Don't worry about it, Y/n Flower. They'll get together; I know it. In the mean time, you shouldn't worry. I mean, we are still fourteen after all and a bit too young."

Y/n looked amused. "Is this James Potter speaking? I'm usually the one who tells you that sort of stuff, while you just don't believe me and go snogging with a third year or something. Are you sure you're feeling all right?"

"I'm fine!" exclaimed James in exasperation.

"Oh, all right then."

But before James could persuade Y/n to make a decent and interesting topic of conversation, a scream was heard in the Great Hall. Apparently, Sirius had accidentally spilled a jug of pumpkin juice on Arabella, causing her to think he did it on purpose and slapped him. Remus coughed, hiding a smile, while Jennifer's eyes began to water as she tried not to laugh. James, however, could not restrain his amusement; he burst out laughing.

Bella looked positively livid and ready to strike. "Can you tell me what's so amusing, James Potter? Perhaps you need a good beating as well."

That shut James up very well.

"Oh, Bella, don't be hard on the boy," said Jennifer, trying not to smile. "After all, the Marauders are always like this, and you've never cared before."

"Well, I've now seen that Amos is right—the Marauders are a bunch of immature pricks who don't have any respect for anyone in this school."

"Amos?" questioned Y/n, alarmed.

Arabella smiled. "Oh, Y/n, I didn't tell you guys, did I? I apologized to Amos, and now we're together again. I guess I sort of misunderstood him last year. After all, the Marauders did influence me then."

Jennifer raised an eyebrow. "Bella, does that mean that...you aren't friends with the Marauders any longer?"

"Friends?" Bella laughed, though it sounded quite different from her normal one. "When were we ever friends with them?"

"Bella, are you feeling all right? You dated one of the ringleaders, for goodness' sake! Are you daft?"

"I haven't a clue what you're talking about, Jennifer Dean, but I can assure you, I've never dated a Marauder in my life."

Jennifer gave Y/n a bewildered look and whispered, "What the hell is wrong with this girl?"

Y/n sighed. "I think she's in denial. Sirius snogging Lori went to her mind, I suppose, so she's trying to pretend that she's barely even spoken to the Marauders in her life."

"What? And she forgave Diggory? I think this has gone too far—"

"If she continues like this, then we'll think of something."

"Does she have to be so stubborn?"

On the other side of the table, Sirius was eating quietly, not even laughing at some joke that James occasionally told to him, Remus, and Peter. Even the teachers at the staff table knew that there was something wrong with Sirius lately. He was usually the bubbly and dashing teenager who had girls falling to his feet, but lately, he was quiet and reserved, that even his fan clubs were rather intimidated by his odd behavior. But James knew better. He knew that his best friend missed Arabella more than anyone or anything else, and that he was extremely guilty over being entranced by Lori Paterson's beauty and letting his hormones get the better of him.

He poked his best friend gently. "Sirius? You all right?"

Sirius shook his head. "I'm fine."

"You know, we have to work on our potion."

His eyes were disinterested. "Right. We have most of it done, right? We can finish by next year and have our forms ready."

"Aren't you excited? I mean, not everyone can turn into an animal at will, you know." James was desperate to get his friend into his energetic form again.

"Mmm. But how will we know it'll work?"

The black-haired boy decided to end the conversation, since he wasn't used to Sirius being so pessimistic and gloomy. He leaned forward to Arabella and whispered, "Can I talk to you?"

Bella's eyes flew up in surprise. "Why, why would such a popular boy talk to little old me?"

James raised his eyebrows. "Pardon?"

She shook her head. "I never did know that a Marauder would be so polite."

"Bella, are you all right?"

"She's in denial," hissed Y/n, grabbing James.

"Is she mad? She doesn't even know me!" James was indignant at not being known, especially by one of his closest friends.

"I told you, she's in denial. She's furious at Sirius, so she's ignoring the whole lot of you. Bella's pretending that she doesn't know you guys at all, except for the fact that you four are the most popular boys in the school."

"That's stupid," said James, looking rather put-off. "I mean, I haven't done a thing."

"Don't worry, she'll get over it, if that's what you're worrying about," assured Y/n confidently. "People like her always do."

"Mmm-hmm...right. You know, I'm really worried about those two. They're not acting normal."

"James." Y/n sighed. "I told you not to worry. Now, let's all enjoy ourselves, shall we?"

"Hey, N/n?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you go with me?"

"Where?"

"To the dance?"

"What dance?"

"The dance."

Y/n sighed with frustration. "What dance?"

"Hello? Earth to Y/n, little Miss Perfect? You know, the Halloween Ball coming up.

"Er—right. What did you want again?"

"Will you go with me?"

Y/n thought for a moment, then smiled wickedly. "Sure. Then we'll really surprise everyone."

James laughed. "Oh, you'll have no idea."

Remus leaned over and whispered to his friend, "What's so funny?"

"Huh? Oh, me and Y/n are going to the ball together."

"It's Y/n and I are going to the ball together. And are you? Oh, wait 'till the whole school sees you to arm-to-arm! McGonagall will faint!"

"That'll be the laughingstock, won't it? And, oh"—James grinned—"what about Sirius and Arabella? They have to get together."

The tired boy smiled back at his friend. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Old-fashioned closet trick?"

"Definitely."

The two boys grinned mischievously and told their plan to the girls."

"James...geroff!" Y/n breathed hard. "Get off!"

"Whoops, sorry Y/n." James climbed off the redhead delicately. "You know, you look beautiful."

She smiled and blushed. "You look great, too. But I know you don't mean it when you said that I look beautiful."

James brushed back a lock of her curling H/c hair. "You're the most beautiful girl in this Great Hall right now, Y/n."

Remus gave a hacking cough and James jumped back, flushing. "Perhaps you can get on with the plan, James."

"Oh—er—right." James fumbled with Sirius and Arabella's wands and handed them to Y/n.

"Y/n and James Potter!" Arabella shrieked from the nearby closet, causing several couples who were wandering around the deserted corridors to jump. "Get me out of here!"

"James, what do you think you're playing at?" shouted Sirius. "Sarah's waiting for me back in the Great Hall! She'll dump me if I'm found here!"

"So let her!" exclaimed James. "You don't like her. You like Bella, and you two have to make up tonight, or we won't let you out."

"Y/n?" croaked Bella. "You don't mean that?"

"Oh yes, we do, Bells. Now, do you really like Amos? If you do, you have to say it in front of my face right now."

There was a silence, and Y/n smiled in satisfaction. In fact, she was so engrossed in the whole plan that she hadn't noticed James staring at her the whole time. Her h/c hair was curled into beautiful ringlets, while she wore robes of a deep e/c that brought out the brightness and beauty of her startling e/c eyes. Her blood red lips were curved into a smile, and her eyes sparkled like diamonds. James quickly caught his breath at the sight of her.

James didn't look half-bad either. His untidy black hair was still where it was, since he had trouble managing it with every single hair gel and charm he could think of to make it neat. He was wearing robes of navy blue, while his sleeves were rolled up, revealing muscles that made most of the female population swoon and glare at Y/n jealously as the couple had headed down to the Great Hall.

Both of them had no idea what the other thought of them, so they plaintively ignored the fact, though they did steal glances at each other as they pressed their ears against the closet door. The rest of their friends watched them in amusement, for it was so obvious that they've never seen two people more in love than Y/n and James, though the two stubborn teens would never admit it. Jennifer was itching to match up the both of them, though Remus had to tell her logically how it wouldn't work out at all, seeing that they were barely friends yet.

"Wait until they're close friends, and then we'll move to the next step," he had said wisely. So Jennifer impatiently waited for her two friends to become friends with each other.

The six other friends finally gave up on Sirius and Arabella, since it was obvious that they weren't going to make up that night or the next day, so they unwillingly let out the two.

"That was a waste of a good evening," said Jennifer, sighing, as she watched Sirius and Arabella stomp off toward their dates without a single glance at each other. "It's hopeless, I'm starting to think."

"Don't say that, Jen," smothered Violet. "They'll become together when they're ready. In the mean time, let's all enjoy ourselves with what's left of the evening. After all, it's not over, you know."

"Would you care to dance, Y/n?" asked James, bowing, as he took Y/n's hand politely. Y/n graciously accepted and they waltzed away as the music drifted throughout the large room.

We were strangers

Starting out on a journey

Never dreaming

What we'd have to go through

Now here we are

I'm suddenly standing

At the beginning with you

No one told me

I was going to find you

Unexpected

What you did to my heart

When I lost hope

You were there to remind me

This the start

Life is a road

And I want to keep going

Love is a river

And I wanna keep flowing

Life is a road

Now and forever

Wonderful journey

I'll be there

When the world stops turning

I'll be there

When the storm is through

At the end I wanna be standing

At the beginning with you

We were strangers

On a crazy adventure

Never dreaming

How our dreams would come true

Now here we stand unafraid of the future

At the beginning with you

Life is a road and I wanna keep going

Loves is a river and I wanna keep going on

Starting out on a journey

Life is a road and I wanna keep going

Love is a river and I wanna keep flowing

In the end I wanna be standing

At the beginning...with you

Y/n and James swayed peacefully to the music as it played softly. As it died away, applause was heard, and "Can You Feel the Love Tonight" played.

After the ball, everyone agreed that it was very exciting and groaned over classes the next day. Y/n and James linked arms as they joined the other Gryffindors in the common room to party until midnight.

"That was great," said Jennifer, smiling dreamily as she flopped onto a sofa in the common room.

"Why? You and Remus snogged?" teased Y/n.

"Nah. It was just great. Oh, and you and James were getting pretty cozy there yourself. You guys are really meant for each other, but still can't see it yet. I don't know how much it takes to make you see it yourselves."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"I mean, the song that you guys danced to—it said a lot about you. You and James have been through a lot together, and you've found each other. All you have to do now is realize the fact that you're in love with him and vice versa, so you guys can get married and have Harry." Jennifer winked. "Though Harry should be born when you're in your mid-twenties, Y/n, I mean, I think you're a little too young if it was earlier..."

"Jen!" exclaimed Y/n, blushing. "Don't say those things!"

"Sorry, Y/n, but I had to warn you."

Y/n shook her head, smiling. The words of the song echoed in her head slowly, like a revolver.

We were strangers

Starting out on a journey

Never dreaming

What we'd have to go through

Now here we are

I'm suddenly standing

At the beginning with you

Was it true what Jennifer had said? Y/n looked around at James, who was casually dangling a foot in the air while talking to Sirius, Remus, and Peter about the upcoming Quidditch game, Gryffindor versus Slytherin. His untidy, jet-black hair fell onto his face and he brushed it off, his brown eyes locking onto Y/n's. He grinned at her, blushing, and continued to discuss things with the rest of the Marauders with red cheeks. The h/c smiled. Even though she couldn't see James more than a friend, she knew that she would someday, for he was just the person she ought to have to be with me forever.

tags; @thecurlyhairedwinchester

masterlist

a/n; sorry about the song lyrics, i just thought they went perfectly with their relationship at the moment!

#it's a hate-love thing original version #amarauder writings #james potter x reader