Chapter 3: Recreation—Redoubt

Ho might be depressed 😔💔

This Love

Summary: A sudden shift in reality places you in a strange new world, where a different version of your lover resides. You were happy, but you both know this can't stay forever.

Pairing: Viktor Arcane x Female Reader, she/her pronouns

Warnings: Slight angst, soft makeout sesh at the end, implied smut, mentions of anxiety, overall down bad Viktor.

Words: 4.4k

A/N: MY FIRST TIME WRITING FOR VIKTOR! This was inspired by S2E7. Not sure if this is a complete spoiler but read at your own risk! :) Forgive me, I think I got too carried away with the makeout part y'all. I hope you like it!

The quiet hum of Viktor’s lab was the soundtrack of your evenings. The faint aroma of tea and metal wafted in the air as Hextech crystals lit the room in their soft blue glow. You sat perched on a stool near his workbench, eyes tracing at each wrinkled skin as he adjusted the complexity of a new project.

He was so absorbed in his work that he hadn’t noticed you had been staring for the last few minutes. His honey eyes were sharp with focus, thoughts absent as his fingers moved with precision. The way his brow furrowed slightly when it didn’t do as he wanted made you smile.

“Viktor,” you finally said, your voice soft in an attempt not to startle him.

He paused, his head tilting slightly in acknowledgment before his eyes met yours. “Yes, my dear?” A small smile played on his lips, words dripping with accent you so adored.

“You’ve been at this for hours,” walking over to place a steaming cup of tea near his hand, you gently tuck the hair that were dangling in front of his eyes. He had been way too busy to even get a haircut. “Take a break before you become part of the machine.”

His soft laugh filled the room, and the tension in his shoulders eased. “You have a way of reminding me to be human,” he murmured, reaching for the cup.

“Because you are. And also, because I care about you more than your inventions,” you teased, leaning against the edge of the table.

“And I am grateful for it,” he replied, his voice tender. Viktor was often reserved, but in moments like this, he allowed his affection for you to shine through.

He sipped the tea and sighed. “Perfect, as always. Thank you.”

“You’re sooo predictable,” you said with a smirk. “If it’s not tea, it’s the late night problem-solving with no food or rest in between.”

“And yet, you choose to keep me company,” he countered, the side of his eyes creasing with amusement.

“Can you blame me? I'm a fool for brilliant minds,” you replied, sipping from your own cup of tea.

Viktor’s hand brushed against yours as he set the cup down, the touch lingering just long enough to send a warm sensation through your chest. “You’re too kind to me, dushen’ka,” he said, his tone softening as your heart flattered at the endearment. He never told you the meaning of it, nor have you asked. You just liked how it sounded and how it made you feel when it rolled off his tongue.

“And you’re too hard on yourself,” you shot back.

His lips twitched upward in a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He looked at you as if he wanted to say more but held back. Instead, he shifted in his seat, patting his lap invitingly.

“Come here,” he said, his voice low but firm.

You hesitated for a moment, but the look in his eyes was impossible to resist. You slid onto his lap, his arms wrapping around you with a gentleness that made your heart ache.

“I want to remember this,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple and letting it linger there as he subtly inhale the scent of your shampoo that never failed to calm his insides.

“What do you mean?” you asked, tilting your head to look at him.

“Just that little moments like this are rare,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And precious.”

You rested your forehead against his, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours. “Then let’s make more of them.”

The other version of you in this world had grown weary of his devotion to his work. She felt as though he seemed to fade into his projects and leave so little of himself for her.

For months, Viktor had felt their relationship slipping through his fingers. He didn't want to speak loudly of it, but he loved her. So much. And the thought of being away from her for good genuinely scared him. But then again, he would rather spend these long and lonely nights hunched over his workbench than address it. Yet he is scared to lose her at the same time. He is one confusing man.

Then, one day, you came home, and everything was different.

He noticed it immediately, though he didn’t dare ask. There was a warmth in your smile that had been missing for so long. Almost as if you were about to cry. And when you ran into his arms like you’d been starving for his touch, he was too overwhelmed to even question it. Did she hit her head?

At that moment, he stood frozen, his mind struggling to catch up with the reality of you pressed against him, your arms wrapped tightly around his frame. Then his own hands found you, trembling as they held you close, as if he were afraid you might disappear again.

He didn’t know what had changed, but for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to stop thinking, to simply feel. To be human. And what he felt was the most alive he’d been in a long time.

He was just grateful. Grateful for the way you looked at him now, as though you saw him again, as though you wanted him again. And oh, how he’d craved this.

How he’d craved you.

But now you sat there, cradled in his arms, you couldn’t ignore the ache in your chest.

You didn’t belong in this world. And the knowledge of what you’d eventually have to do hung over you like a shadow.

୭ ˚.⁺⊹ .ᐟ

You woke in the middle of the night, the faint sound of Viktor’s tools clinking in the distance pulling you from sleep. The room you shared with him was small and sparse, a reflection of his humble lifestyle, but it had become a sanctuary for you. Your safe space.

Slipping out of bed, you padded quietly to the lab. Viktor was hunched over his workbench, his silhouette illuminated by the soft glow of a Hextech lamp. He didn’t notice you at first, too engrossed in whatever new device he was toying with.

“Vik,” you called gently, and he turned, surprised but pleased to see you.

“You should be resting,” he said, though his tone lacked lecture.

“So should you,” you countered, stepping closer. "The bed was cold when I woke up. Knew you'd be here."

He sighed, “I couldn’t sleep. My mind… it is always racing.”

You sat down beside him, your hand caressing his back while you placed the other on his tired knuckles, hoping for him to set down his tools and stop whatever he's working on even just for a minute. “What’s on your mind?”

His gaze dropped to the project in front of him. “The future,” he admitted. “There is so much to be done, so many things I wish to accomplish. But sometimes, I fear I am running out of time.”

You hesitated, heart clenching at his words. In your world, those very ambitions had been his undoing, and it traumatized you.

Stop it, stop it.

In every reality, was he always meant to lose himself? You really hoped not. No matter how much you wanted to avoid this thought, it somehow always manages to be brought up.

But does it matter? You know that the time will come where you have to go back where you really belong and leave this version of your Viktor.

The love that you also once had, but now could only dream of staying forever.

Although hard, you did your best to steady your breathing. You didn't want to overshadow Viktor's anxious thoughts.

“You’re not alone in this,” you said softly. “You don’t have to carry everything by yourself. I thought you said you wanted to remember the precious little moments. So, live in it. Stop worrying about the future.”

He looked at you, his eyes searching yours. “You always say the right thing.”

You forced a smile. “That’s because I know you better than anyone else.”

But the truth was, you didn’t just know him—you also knew this other version of him from your world, you knew what he could become. And it terrified you.

Days passed and the tension had been building up. Viktor noticed it every time your gaze lingered too long on him, or when you hesitated before answering his questions. He had given you space, knowing you would come to him when ready, but his patience was running thin. He was afraid you were growing distant again.

Tonight, you stood by the large window of his lab, staring out at the glittering lights of Piltover below. The night air was cool, or perhaps it just felt cooler for you as you stood there with no clothes and only a fine piece of blanket covering your body.

It was one of those intimate nights with Viktor. And it felt good. Every single time. It’s like witnessing a rare flower bloom, delicate and fleeting. His guarded walls would soften, revealing a tenderness he shows only to you. In bed with Viktor is an art itself—a gentle dance of patience and understanding where every glance, every touch, every sweat and spit that mingled together, or every whispered word carries the weight of his unspoken trust and love to you.

“Something troubles you,” Viktor said, his voice breaking the silence. He sat on your shared bed, picking up his cane that was resting against the bedside table. “You’ve been awfully quiet these past few days.”

"Viktor," You turned to face him, your heart pounding. “I… I don’t know how to tell you this.”

He stepped closer, eyes filled with worry. “You can tell me anything. You know that.” The lab was quiet except for the occasional clink of his cane.

You knew this moment would come. It had to. But even as the words danced on the edge of your tongue, fear rooted you in place.

You glanced at Viktor, his brow furrowed, the light from the night sky cast a soft glow on his features, making him look impossibly gentle. You loved him like this.

But that was why it was so hard.

What if this breaks him?

You had seen him push himself to the brink before, working tirelessly on problems that seemed insurmountable. And you didn't want to see it again. Not this Viktor. He was always a man who carried the weight of his failures like scars. If you told him the truth, would he see this as another problem to solve? Would he push himself too far, trying to find a way to keep you here?

You swallowed hard, anxiously biting the nail of your thumb. How do you tell someone you love that you don’t belong in their world? The rational part of you whispered that he would understand. Viktor valued logic and reason. He believed in the principles of the universe. It felt impossible to explain something that didn’t make sense, even to you. But you knew Viktor. He was a man of science, after all.

He’ll listen. He’ll understand.

But another part of you—the part that knew him on a level deeper than logic—feared what this truth would do to him. You’d seen what happened when he lost control, when the weight of his ambition threatened to crush him.

And now, I’ll be the one adding to that weight.

Your heart raced, panic warring within you. This was it—the moment you’d been dreading.

You took a shaky breath, hands trembling at your sides. “I’m not… from here, Viktor. Not from Piltover, not even from this version of it.”

He blinked, the weight of your words clearly hitting him. “What do you mean?”

There’s a quiet, almost overwhelming relief that washes over you after finally speaking the words you’ve held inside for so long.

“I come from another reality,” you began, “A version of this world where… where you’re different. Where Hextech consumed you. Where I lost you to your ambition. I lost you, Viktor.”

Viktor’s expression shifted from confusion to disbelief. You wanted to cry. You wanted to collapse and be wrapped around his arms to tell you that everything was okay.

"Please... Viktor, say something."

His expression faltered, his brows knitting together in something close to pain. “Lost me?”

To a guarded understanding, he sat back down to bed, fingers gripping the mattress as if to steady his thoughts. A part of him didn't believe you, but not in a sense that he thinks you were a liar, like this is just some sick joke you were making. No, he didn't want to believe you because he was in denial. He is aware of the possibility, but the thought of you two becoming gradually estranged again frightened him.

“And how did you find your way here?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “One day, I was there, and then… I wasn’t. I ended up in this world, where you became someone I didn’t recognize." A single tear rolled down your cheek. "You’re kind, and thoughtful, and everything I…” You trailed off, swallowing hard. “Everything I love.”

The words hung heavy in the air, and Viktor’s gaze dropped, his expression unreadable. You weren't sure if he was hurt or scared, but most likely both.

“I don’t know how or why. And I thought… I thought maybe this was a second chance. But I have been thinking about it, and i realize that I don’t belong in this world, Viktor.”

“But why not?” his gaze snapped back at you, voice sharp with sudden intensity. It bothered you. You are not used to seeing him react this way.

“Because this isn’t my life. This body, it isn't mine. It is my other self's,” you said, tears stinging your eyes. “I’m not part of this world. There are people back there who need me and I don’t know how long I can stay before things start to… unravel.”

“Unravel?” he repeated, his brow furrowing.

“Your life, your work. You have a purpose here, Viktor. A future. And I can’t take that from you. If I stay, we might change the directory of your path in ways we can’t control. I might hold you back.”

He shook his head, his jaw tightening. “You could never—”

“I could,” you interrupted, your voice breaking. “I could, Viktor. And I couldn’t live with myself if I did," your heart broke at the pain in his face, “I don’t want to go. But we both know I have to.” ୭ ˚.⁺⊹ .ᐟ

Nine months. Then a year.

The days blurred together, slipping into a pattern that felt both comforting and heavy. Viktor had promised to help you find your way back to your home, and for a time, you’d believed him. How could you not? You’d seen him throw himself into his work countless times before, solving impossible problems with the same determination that made him who he was.

At first, it seemed no different. Late nights in the lab, the sound of his pencil scratching against paper, his sharp muttering as he adjusted his calculations. You’d grown used to seeing his brilliance in action, to watching him work with a focus so intense it seemed the world around him didn’t exist.

But now, a year later, the key to returning you to the life you left behind was still unfinished.

It wasn’t a lack of progress; no, you’d seen the sketches, the prototypes, and the occasional tests of the machinery. But something about the way he worked felt off. The urgency that usually drove him seemed... dulled. His pace slower than it had ever been. He would linger over details, rechecking calculations he’d already solved perfectly, or pause to talk with you in the middle of his work, something he rarely allowed himself to do.

At first, you’d convinced yourself it was a good thing. Viktor, taking his time? Taking breaks? It felt like a small miracle. You’d even praised him for it once, calling it “progress.” He had chuckled at that, his gaze lingering on you longer than it should have.

But now, sitting across from him in the dim light of the lab, you couldn’t ignore the truth any longer.

He wasn’t taking his time because he needed to.

He was taking his time because he didn’t want to let you go.

The realization hit you like a wave, a mix of warmth and guilt that made your chest tighten. You couldn’t blame him for wanting to hold onto this. For wanting to hold onto you. You felt it too, every time he reached for your hand, or every time his eyes softened when he looked at you. The thought of leaving him felt like a wound that wouldn’t heal.

But the longer you stayed, the more your fears grew. What if my being here changes everything? you wondered. What if it disrupts his life, his work, his future? It is not impossible to happen and you weren't going to risk it.

You couldn’t ignore those questions, no matter how much you wanted to.

“Viktor,” you said softly, breaking the quiet hum of the lab.

He glanced up from his workbench, his eyes tired. “Yes, my love?”

You hesitated, your fingers curling against the fabric of your sleeves. His voice was so gentle, so trusting, that it made what you had to say feel even harder.

For a moment, you stared at him, taking in the sharp lines of his face. He looked exhausted but content, as though he were savoring a rare peace. And maybe he was. Maybe that peace came from you.

“You’ve been working on the portal for a while now,” you said carefully. “I just… I know you’re capable of finishing it. But... Is something holding you back?”

He stilled, his pencil hovering above the blueprint in front of him. His expression shifted and your stomach twisted, as did his. He thought you were never going to notice his dishonesties, let alone ask about it, but it has been a little over a year already, of course you would find out.

“I suppose,” he began quietly, torn between admitting it or not, and he did, “I am simply selfish.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “Selfish?”

He nodded slowly, his hands folding in his lap as he stared down at the table. “I know what I promised you. And I intend to keep that promise. But…” He exhaled shakily, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Every moment you are here, I feel as though I have been granted a gift I do not deserve. To finish the portal would be to let go of that gift. To let go of you.”

The rawness of his words struck you like a physical blow. You felt your eyes sting, tears threatening to spill, but you forced yourself to hold them back. Crossing the room, you knelt beside him, your hands trembling as they reached for his.

“Viktor... my love... Listen to me,” you said, voice thick with emotion. “You’re not selfish. You’re just… human.”

His eyes met the floor, and the vulnerability in them made your chest tighten. “But I don’t want to let you go,” he admitted, his voice barely audible.

“And I don’t want to leave,” you confessed, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

The air between you felt heavy with a truth neither of you could deny. For a moment, he simply looked at you, his eyes searching yours as though trying to memorize every detail. Then he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek, so gentle it made your heart ache.

“But we both know,” you continued, your voice trembling, “that I can’t stay. Viktor… this isn’t my world. As much as I wish it could be, it’s not.”

He closed his eyes, his jaw tightening. “You think I care about that?”

“No,” you said softly, shaking your head with a little chuckle. “But I do. People in my world need me. And I care about what happens to you. About what happens to this version of you. You have so much ahead of you, Viktor. Your work, your future. It’s too important to risk.”

His hand fell away, and he turned his gaze back to the table, his expression shadowed. “Then I suppose I must stop stalling.”

“Keep your promise,” you said, your voice trembling.

His head tilted slightly, and he looked at you with quiet curiosity.

“When it is ready… you have to let me go.”

The silence that followed felt like it stretched on forever. Finally, he nodded, his shoulders slumping under the weight of the promise. “I promise,” he said, though his voice carried a pain that made your heart ache.

You barely had time to react as Viktor pulled you into his arms, his movements both sudden and careful. He held you like you were something fragile. Like the mere thought of letting you go would shatter him. He placed you onto his lap, his limp leg struggling but he couldn't care less. His fingers traced the curve of your back, his face buried in your shoulder as if he were trying to memorize the feel of you, the warmth of your skin.

The weight of his embrace made it hard to breathe, not because it was suffocating, but because it was overwhelming in its intensity. Viktor, who so often seemed distant and unreachable, was clinging to you.

“Please don’t go yet,” he whispered, voice breaking.

Tears slipped down your cheeks, hot and unrelenting. “I’m still here, Viktor,” you said, your hands clutching the fabric of his shirt. “I’m still here.”

His grip on you tightened for a moment before he pulled back, just enough to look at you. His amber eyes were glassy with unshed tears, lips slightly parted as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. You had seen him angry, frustrated, exhausted, but never like this.

Never this open, this vulnerable.

“Every second with you feels like a miracle,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “And yet, it is not enough. It will never be enough.”

You reached up to cup his face, your thumbs brushing against the sharp line of his cheekbones. “Viktor…”

He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing as he exhaled shakily. “Tell me this,” he said softly. “Tell me this is as difficult for you as it is for me.”

“It is,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “Every moment I spend with you makes it harder to imagine leaving. But I can’t—”

“I know,” he interrupted, his voice a near whisper. His hands moved to cradle your face, his long fingers trembling slightly against your skin. “I know. And yet, I cannot stop wanting you. Needing you.”

His words were raw and desperate. Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours with a gentleness that made your heart ache.

The kiss was reluctant at first, like he was afraid of overwhelming you. But when you responded, pressing closer with your hands tangling in his hair, it was as if something inside him broke. His restraint melted away, replaced by a deep, aching need that made your chest flutter.

His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. The kiss deepened, and you can feel him growing underneath you. You let out a muffled whine. The way he pressed his lips against yours made it almost impossible for you to make more sound.

His lips moving against yours with a desperation that was almost visible as soft groans and whimpers came out of his throat from here and there. You could feel the unspoken emotions pouring out of him. The fear, the longing, the love he couldn’t seem to put into words.

Tilting your head to deepen the kiss, you felt his warm exhale against your lips, the tension in his body giving way to something raw. His hands slid from your face down to your shoulders, to your waist, then to your ass where his fingers pressed firmly as though to anchor himself in the reality of you.

“Mmh…” Viktor murmured against your lips, the vibration sending a shiver down your spine. “I love you, moe serdtse. You make me… forget myself,” he murmured, his voice trembling.

You laughed softly, your own breath shaky. “You make it sound like a bad thing.”

His answering hum was deep and low, and the way his arms tightened around you spoke louder than words. “Perhaps it is not,” he admitted, his voice thick with feeling.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your fingertips brushing against his cheekbones. He was flushed, his chest rising and falling as he struggled to steady his breathing. You leaned in again, letting your lips graze his, and he made another soft, needy sound, his hands moving to your back to pull you closer.

You pulled back for air, and his forehead rested against yours, breaths coming fast and uneven. His eyes still closed, and you knew if he opened it, it would be filled with nothing but the look of loving for you. “You make me weak,” he confessed, his voice barely audible. “I am not accustomed to this… to feeling so much, so deeply. Even until now, it terrifies me.”

You swallowed hard, your fingers brushing against the side of his face.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The lab was quiet, save for the faint hum of the machinery in the background. His hands lingered on your waist, his touch grounding you in a moment that felt fleeting.

“I will finish the portal,” he said finally, his voice steady despite the tears that glistened in his eyes. “I will keep my promise. But until then… let me have this. Let me have you.”

Your heart ached at the sincerity in his voice, the unspoken plea that hung between you. “You already have me,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “You always will.”

He kissed you again, slower this time, tasting you. It wasn’t a goodbye. It was a promise, one that neither of you could bring yourself to say aloud.

For now, you were here. Together. And though the future loomed uncertain and heavy, you knew this moment was yours.

Language of flowers.

Pairing: Young! Remus Lupin x Fem! Reader

Word count: 2.1k

Summary: In a moment of darkness, Remus finds the light of his life.

Warnings: angst, grief, fluff, hurt/comfort, flower shop AU, lots of flowers

Masterlist

The flower shop was open, colors drifting through the breeze. But the sky was grey and Remus was feeling a weight crushing his heart and soul.

It was hard to say where it started and where it ended, the sky or the heaviness of his heart.

It had been a few months since 31st of October, spring slowly settling in. A few months since Remus had found himself alone, with his bestfriends dead or imprisoned.

A few months since Remus had been questioning everything he ever knew. He often wondered about it. If he was to be there with them, would things be different? And what about Padfoot?

He couldn't answer his own questions. They drove him insane.

A few birds, flying over him and chirping, brought him back to reality. Life was coming back to life, basking in the glory of now, but he was still stuck in the past.

A bell dinged when he opened the flower shop's door and all sorts of sweet smells hit him. There was some stark, but delicate, almost lacy, perfume drifting through the air, some daring ones too (like the lilies in the corner).

Lilies.

They broke his heart.

"Sorry, I'll be at the front in just a moment!" a soft voice called out.

Remus made no move whatsoever, afraid to wither the flowers with even just an intake of air. He was just standing there, in the middle of the isle, surrounded by bouquets and flowers, with his hands in his coat's pockets and shoes sticking to the floor. His hair was probably a mess too (when was it ever not?).

The soft pads of converse against the pristine tiles and the swishing of a dress drew his attention to the backroom. She was wearing a polka dotted, red dress and a warm smile. She reminded Remus of spring itself. "Hi! Sorry for that, just some organizational stuff! How may I help you?"

She was looking straight at him, not afraid to meet his eyes and he suddenly felt small, fidgeting on the spot. The flowery smells tickled his nostrils. "I, uh- I want to buy some flowers."

Her smile broadened, her white teeth glittering in the light. "Well, I sure would hope so! It is a flower shop, after all."

He felt his face burn up and he cleared his throat. "Just those lilies, please."

Her gaze turned to the flowers in the corner, their white so fragile and pure. "That's beautiful. Lilies symbolize purity, something heavenly. Did you know that?"

He shyly shook his head. His voice croaked out a no.

"Well, now you do." she softly smiled at him before going to take them out of their vase. She started counting them. "How many would you like?"

Remus remained silent for a moment, his gaze dropping to the floor. "An even number would be fine."

Her moves halted, hands wrapped around the flowers' stems. "Oh, I see."

Even numbers for the deceased, odd numbers for the living.

Without turning to him, the florist brought six lilies out of the vase, putting them tenderly on the counter, as if she was dealing with a porcelain doll. "I'm sorry for your loss." she quietly added, her voice just a mere sound in the air.

Bashful, Remus shrugged, his hands still stuck in his pockets.

"These are beautiful flowers. I'm sure they'd love them." she continued, her fingers delicately tying a blue ribbon around the lilies.

He slowly lifted his head. "She was a lily and he always loved lilies." he whispered, but he was sure she still heard it. Her eyes met his, in a compassionate gaze, a touch of sadness in them.

"I'm Y/N." she said in a meek voice.

"Remus."

She handed him the bouquet, fingertips brushing. A strand of hair was falling from the ponytail she hastily put up. "That'd be ten pounds."

"Make it twenty. For the company."

She laughed, eyes lighting up and cheeks blushing. "You're a charming one. But can't do. It wouldn't be fair. Just ten pounds."

Remus felt a daring something in his chest and he took a step closer to the counter. "Fifteen and we'll see each other again?"

She shook her head, a smile still etched on her lips. "Yeah, okay, can't say no to that."

His own smile turned into a grin, before he put the money on the counter. He straightened his back and saluted her.

Y/N waved, her voice carrying sounds of worry. "Take care, Remus. Flowers wither easily."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

He knew the path all too well, taking turns through the cemetery. Left, right, left and right again. He was still holding the lilies in his hands, maybe a bit too tightly, his knuckles turning white.

It was a bit odd coming back here. Nothing ever changed since the funeral. And he supposed nothing would ever change. Life would go on, time passing by, but the cemetery would still be stuck here in a time bubble, a testimony to the past.

He knew the path all too well. Right, left, left. Grave stones after grave stones. Left, right, left. Stillness. Quietness.

Loneliness.

He remembered the times when they would all joke around (Prongs had the most bonkers ideas), and Lilly would be the one who'd always get them out of trouble. He remembered how it felt to have someone besides you in the darkest moments.

And now he had no one.

Right, left. Stop.

The grave stone greeted him like always: cold and motionless, their names hitting him like bullets.

James and Lilly Potter.

He'd forever miss them.

Remus placed the bouquet on the grave, letting a moment of quiet pass, before he turned on his heels and left.

He knew the path all too well.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

He kept coming back to the flower shop every month. At first he only bought lilies in even numbers, but then she started suggesting him to try something else ("Maybe white hyacinth. It symbolizes loveliness, prayers for someone.") Other times, she'd have a bouquet ready for him to pick up.

Remus no longer felt lonely. There was a light in every thing she said or did. She was careful with her words, and even more careful with the flowers. More often than not, even surrounded by a multitude of colours and flowers, the only flower he ever saw was her.

It was a wonder, to begin with. He'd get lost in the way she handled the flowers, so carefully, delicately. Just a touch of the hand, caressing them, never squeezing them. Angelic. Velvety.

After a while, he started to stop by just to greet her. He'd usually find her in the back, planting seeds or wetting the flowers she was growing. (These are irises. They symbolize faith. Isn't that beautiful?")

Y/N was the whole spring in the form of flowing dresses and warm smiles.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The flower shop was closed that day. He frowned in a confused manner, sticking his hands in his pockets. For a moment, he rocked on his heels, looking around, a breeze ruffling his hair. And then he turned to leave, a destination already imprinted in his mind.

But a weep stopped him. He recognized her. Her voice was muffled and strained by cries, but it was still her voice.

He followed the sound, taking the corner of the shop. His knees were weak, trembling just at the thought of her crying.

He found her on her knees, near a grave behind the shop. There was a whole meadow behind the flower shop, flowers everywhere and Remus figured out that this is where she was growing most of her flowers.

He took a tentative step towards her before stopping abruptly. What was he supposed to say? Words failed him.

Y/N sniffled. "I know you're there. I can feel you, you know?"

Remus gulped, before taking a seat near her. He didn't dare to take a look at the grave, instead gazing at her, waiting for her to say something. Patiently.

"I'm sorry that I closed the shop today."

He shook his head desperately, reaching out with his hand to touch her arm but dropping it at the last second. He didn't know how to comfort her. "Hey, hey, it's fine. I understand."

A broken laugh made it through her lips. "You're my most faithful customer."

"Irises, right?"

Y/N laughed again, turning to meet his eyes, unshed tears shining in her own. "You remembered!"

He shyly shrugged (he seemed to be doing that often around her). "Of course I did. I remember everything you ever tell me."

Her grin turned soft and her gaze dropped. "You're sweet. I wish I could repay you for all the kindness you've ever shown me. The business thrives just because of you."

This time he didn't hesitate to grasp her hand. She was soft, just as he always imagined. She was warm too. Her touch was velvety, much like a petal would be. "Don't say that. It's always a pleasure to come by. And your flowers are some of the most beautiful I've ever seen. They're very alive. You put love in your work. Anyone would see that."

She raised her head, wonder in her eyes. "It used to be mom's business. But I took over once she-" She inhaled. "Once she passed away."

Remus was familiar to grief and loneliness. He slightly squeezed her hand.

"Her name was Iris." Y/N added.

He nodded his head. "I see." He pushed behind her ear a strand of hair. "My best friend's name was Lily."

Her eyes turned sad once again. "Purity."

"Faith." Remus replied, referring to her mother's name.

An unspoken, shared pain settled between them as she slowly let her head fall against his shoulder, a few birds singing in the distance.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The bell chimed when he enter the flower shop that evening. He was smiling, his face flushed.

"Sorry, just a sec!" her voice called out, much like it did the first time they met.

Her converse padded against the tiles much like they did the very first time. Her dress swished like it did the first time.

And Remus blushed much like he did the first time he saw her. Y/N's face lit up when she rounded the corner and met his gaze. No amount of greetings could reflect the excitement and warmth in her eyes. The sun would be jealous of the light in them.

She approached the counter, a skip in her steps. "What flowers this time? Magnolias?"

Remus shook his head. "Roses."

Her lips formed a perfect "O", eyebrows rising. "That's new. Even or odd?" she asked, already going around the counter towards the flowers.

"Odd, this time." replied Remus, carefully watching for a reaction, one that'd betray her thoughts (he was hoping for a blush to resurface, or a tint of jealousy).

Even numbers for the deceased, odd numbers for the living.

Her moved halted, fingertips barely brushing the roses' stems. "How many?" Her voice was even, but Remus could detect a sound of annoyance in it.

"Just one. A single red rose."

The flower shop went silent. Somewhere outside, leaves rustled and the wind of early April started picking up, ruffling the trees. Her hands froze in the air, once again, before she straightened her back, her face void of emotion. Her face betrayed her, though. ''Who's the lucky one?''

''You.''

It was as if time stopped. Y/N was speechless for the third time that day and Remus took a few steps closer to the counter, trying to meet her eyes. ''It's you, Y/N. The rose is for you.'' And with a tremor in his voice, he hastily added. ''That is if you accept it.''

He was now in front of her, hands on the counter itching to touch hers, to grasp her fingers in his, ''Please, do.'' he whispered.

She slowly lifted her head, her eyes shyly meeting his. ''Is it for me?''

Remus nodded his head, soft crinkles appearing in the corner of his eyes. ''Indeed.''

''Nobody has ever given me a flower before.''

''That's quite ironic. You have a flower shop.'' he said while a breathy small laugh escaped his lips. His fingers tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. He could see her bright eyes clearer now.

She shrugged. ''People buy flowers for others.''

Remus cupped her cheek gently. ''And now I bought one for you. Please, say yes. Let me take you out. I promise I'll be extra good. I'll hold doors open for you. I'll hold your hand. I'll pay. Just- just have me.''

Y/N turned her head slightly and kissed the back of his hand. ''Yes.''

A grin broke out onto Remus' face and he lightly let his forehead fall against her, the sun rays bathing both of them. The quietness filling the room. Tranquility.

''You'll still have to pay for the rose, though.''

''Right, yes. Of course.''

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

A/N: Hello! Thank you so much for reading! I've always felt for Remus after the whole Voldemort fiasco. All his best friends died or got unfairly imprisoned. One of them even faked his death! So, this fic kinda blossomed (pun intended) from that. I threw in some language of flowers as well, lots of researching!

Another Remus Lupin fic is in the works. Hint: it's a Titanic AU.

If you'd like to be added to my tag list, just comment under this post or send me an ask! Lots of love xx

Tag list: @bohemianrhapsody86 @andreead

💕💕

:) you already know 😅 could you do prompt 50 with Kaneki or Urie with fem reader? Thank you, love! Your writing is always magnificent and can’t wait to read this one!

# tags: scenario; current marriage relationship; hot romance; also fluff (kaneki deserve it!); kid!fic, family!au; smut; nsfw

warnings: mention of sex and sexual activities, on the sofa, kaneki wants another baby (breeding), unprotected sex, lactation, sloppy kisses, body worship, bites, pet names

includes: female reader ft. ken kaneki {tokyo ghoul}

author’s note: hii! i wrote about urie for you, so i chose kaneki this time :) i hope you find the plot and tags interesting and you enjoy it. i am also sorry you waited so long :(

50. “S-Stop. Someone is looking at us.”

You breathed a sigh of relief when in the tiny bedroom with two cute beds you could only hear faint snoring and calm breathing. Your (almost) two-year-old daughter had her eyes closed in a white cradle with a pacifier in her mouth, and your five-year-old son was sleeping peacefully in a small bed, cuddled up to his beloved mascot in the shape of a yellow tiger. At the same moment, the very pleasant smell of freshly brewed coffee reached your nostrils, so you just kissed your children on their smol foreheads and then left the room, closing the wooden door behind you. After a while, you returned to the kitchen where your husband was waiting for you.

In his hands there was a black mug with the image of a white cat, and next to his person, on the counter, there was a white mug with the image of the same animal. With a smile, you thanked him for the life-giving caffeine, and a moment later you felt a light kiss on your left cheek. Leaning against the counter, you started a conversation with Ken about light-hearted topics, and somewhere between the first sip of the hot drink and drinking it to the last drop, you moved to the living room, wanting to turn on a movie from the plan to watch list on Netflix app. It was a simple horror movie with a predictable plot and comedy elements. However, the horror faded into the background the moment you started talking again; about your husband’s friend’s birthday party, about household chores, about wanting to go to the mountains, about Ken’s job... There were quite a lot of topics, and the quiet evening and the presence of a few lights hanging on the curtain rod added a pleasant atmosphere between the two of you.

You haven’t had an evening to yourself for a long time; you were busy raising your children and taking care of the house and your husband working hard and earning money for the four of you. Plus, there were many other, unforeseen situations that were often full of emotions, stress, happiness, or great physical and mental effort.

That’s why you needed each other more than usual on this particular night.

The light kiss you received from your partner was full of tenderness and longing. His cool hands touched your waist at one point, and you smiled because of caress, almost melting between the blond man’s fingers.

“... Aren’t you tired, butterfly?” He asked with a slightly raised eyebrow, wanting to respect your possible tiredness and desire to watch the movie to the very end. But you shook your head, giving him a quick smootch on the cheek. Ken took that as an answer and then moved slightly closer to you, while settling your body on the spread out sofa, full of soft pillows and beige blankets. His kisses changed their position in a short moment and now, instead of your lips, his teeth were lightly biting the skin of your neck. A few long seconds later, with his right hand, he pushed aside the nightgown you were wearing and also kissed your breasts, which were still very swollen from feeding the younger child with your own milk. “You’re very beautiful, you know, love?”

Your both cheeks immediately turned red and your eyes sparkled a bit as you felt your panties being slowly pulled down. The long blue fabric stayed in it’s place, as did your husband’s pajama top. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a rather large bulge in Ken’s boxers, but you didn’t comment on it in any way. Too busy touching his body under the material of his clothes, you almost forgot about the condom you kept in several strategic places around the house. So you wanted to reach into the small, mahogany hiding place in the armrest, but your beloved grabbed your hand between his long fingers.

“Maybe you want to have sex without it?” He asked a little uncertainly and a little with hope in his voice; he also couldn’t hide the smile that involuntarily appeared on his lips.

“... Why?”

“Hmm. Wouldn’t you like another child?” He asked, pressing his cock harder against your damp pussy, and you bit your lip, feeling your body heat up even more. “You look very pretty when you’re pregnant, baby.” He added in a light whisper, nibbling on your left ear.

“Oh. Really?” You laughed, and then after a moment of thought, you nodded, retracting your hand and intertwining your fingers with your husband’s.

In a short moment of a few more kisses and sincere compliments about your future pregnancy, you could finally start enjoying your husband’s cock, perfectly fitted to your body, which was entering your wet as fuck pussy with the greatest gentleness. Young man touched specific parts of your body and face every now and then. He adored your breasts, your hips, your neck decorated with several red marks, as well as your deep eyes and lips swollen from pecks.

“Maybe this time we can have twins, huh?” He asked quietly, rolling up your shirt and pinching one of your nipples, and when some of the white fluid came out, he almost ejaculated right inside your hole, thinking about how good you would look with a big tummy and then with another two newborns. “What do you think, Y/N?”

“Mhm… Maybe.” You hummed, your eyes squeezed tightly shut. His fingers wandered through your partner’s soft hair and back, and he held your hips tightly as he bounced against your body. The tip of his cock touching the back of your uterus. You imagined your family growing even bigger and you almost groaned out loud.

However, instead of making any sound between your lips, you heard a slight creaking of the panels in the living room and you opened your eyes at once, looking towards the noise almost inaudible to the human ear.

“S-Stop. Someone is looking at us.” You whispered, your voice hoarse, and then you raised yourself slightly on your elbows, smiling at the five-year-old who was rubbing his eyes with his fists. “W-What happened, Kenji?” You asked your little boy, almost throwing off your husband, who quickly hid under the fabric of the blanket, and you invited the child closer to you.

“...I had a nightmare, mommy.”

“Oh, a bad nightmare? Well then, why don’t you stay here with us and we can talk about something pleasant?” You asked quietly as your son sat down next to you. The boy nodded tiredly and then snuggled closer to you.

You were embarrassed, but with full professionalism, you told a child’s story about dinosaurs and treasure hunting, every now and then sending a glance to your husband who didn’t even know how to react to the situation.

You two will definitely finish what you started, but first you had to take care of your duckling, who – in a short while – will fall asleep.

Second Son (XIX) | Regulus Black

Series Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.

— Chapter Synopsis: The Battle of Hogwarts ensues.

Part XVIII / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader

Notes: Only the epilogue remains, my dear readers. Thank you. Final wc: 8.6k

Time seemed to be warping and blurring together frenziedly; day and night pushed out of conscious thought, the passage of days folding together in one reel of memories in your head. The starless sky peered at you like an endless void, indicating that it had somehow already dipped into the corners of the darkest hours again. 

Your heart gives a sharp twinge as you find your eyes locked to the tall figure standing at the head of the hall, face ashened, mournful cloak adorning his imposing figure like a blanket trimmed directly from the night sky. Harry lingered ways off from you as everyone stood with tense backs and squared shoulders. 

You blink away the detachment tugging at your awareness as your ears seem to become full of cotton, keenly aware of the way your wand poked at your ribs from your robe pocket. Your former Potions Professor flickers his gaze around the swarms of students around you, and your chest almost collapses in on itself when you lock eyes with the stone-faced man. Snape’s eyes widen ever so slightly, but he masks it with a sneer as he raises his eyes to look over your dismayed face. 

Your mind immediately spins into overdrive as you grapple with your thoughts. That couldn’t have been your imagination. He saw you, so why didn’t he say anything?

A frown dances on your lips as you revisit your old sentiments about the man. You had always had your reservations about Harry’s inimical attitude towards Snape (though he had them for good reason), and you were beginning to think that you were correct in your assumptions that the man’s interests weren’t exactly black and white. 

Harry drifts through the rows of students and makes himself known, immediately pouring out all of his pent up fury towards the man. Snape’s face does a funny thing as it shifts ever so slightly from suspicion to troubled. 

The doors from behind you are tossed open, causing everyone to step back towards the walls as all heads dart to survey the intrusion. At the helm of the group, Kingsley Shacklebolt strides in with more assurance and conviction than you’ve seen in any of Dumbledore’s followers since his death. 

Stepping out from the belt of students, you unconsciously begin to reach out towards Regulus. The boy’s eyes move through the crowd furiously until they lock onto your drifting figure, his shoulders immediately slacking as he extends his hand out to you. 

A smile crawls up your face as you hurry out of the crowd and towards him, unbothered by the burning of eyes on your back as you do so. Once you grasp the boy’s hand, he brings your hand up to his mouth to give it a faint kiss, shooting you a small wink as he tugs you closer to him. 

The Order members hold their unwavering stances, faces etched with determination as they gaze at a frowning Snape. The man’s eyes are still fixed on Harry, seemingly unperturbed by the arrival of the Order and the overt breach of security. 

Harry grits his teeth as he practically snarls at the man, “Tell them how you looked him in the eye, a man who trusted you, and killed him!” Your friend’s chest heaves with every word, as if the recollection of the events was causing him physical pain. 

You edge closer to Regulus as your eyes flicker between the two individuals. It was a stand-off that had been brewing for years, finally sizzling and tipping past the boiling point as your mind takes you back to your very first year at Hogwarts, painted with Snape’s glares and Harry’s innocent confusion. No longer was your friend inflicted by such adolescent hurt, now only rage and fatigue shrouding from his body. 

It happens in a flash, you nearly miss it as you blink—Snape draws back and points his wand at Harry, eliciting choked gasps as the crowd of students split  further apart in shock. Regulus steps in front of you instinctually, and if the situation were not escalating to such a degree, you would have found it funny that he jumped in front of you despite having no weapon or wand. 

As Professor McGonagall pushes Harry aside, firmly drawing her own wand up, you push Regulus behind you as you reluctantly bring your wand up to point at the man you had made so many mental excuses for. Snape falters at the sight of the woman’s stance, but regains his composure and levels his wand to her. 

Silence falls upon the hall, tension as thick as molasses as everyone draws in their breaths in anticipation. For a moment, you think nothing is going to happen, that perhaps Snape would magically curl into regret and surrender, but then a bolt of flames soars through the air. 

McGonagall is unforgiving in her onslaught of attacks, and Snape merely backpedals from his spot as he deflects the spells. The man’s face falls impossibly further into hurt, and you’re struck with a whirlwind of confusion. 

Why do you look like you’re the one who’s suffering, professor?

The one-sided battle recommences and you’re left rooted in your spot as Snape suddenly flees out of the window in a flurry of black swirls. As the glass shatters, a cloud of excitement seems to sprout into the air as shouts and whispers fill the perimeter. 

Regulus places his hands on your shoulders as you pocket your wand, your eyes still glued to the broken glass at the end of the hall. The cheering and clapping die almost as quickly as they erupted when Harry collapses, a sudden sharp stabbing in your head accompanying your friend’s stumble. You hiss as you reach for your temple, noting how the hall was now blanketed by a miasma of fear. 

Suddenly, a piercing scream slices through the air like cold steel, followed by another and another. Regulus huddles you to him as he peers at you with concerned eyes, his hands moving to trail your arms as the buds of chaos begin to prickle around the room. 

A sharp hiss rings from all around you, and you would have feared for your sanity if not for the petrified expressions on many of the other students’ faces. 

“Give me Harry Potter…Do this and none shall be harmed.”  The words seem to bounce around the room as you guide your eyes to settle onto Harry’s stiff figure. 

“Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave Hogwarts untouched.” 

You divert your gaze to look at Regulus, and find that the boy is already glancing at you with conflicted eyes. 

“Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded. You have one hour.” 

The tint of doom seems to lift almost immediately, and you exhale shakily as the foreign pressure around the atmosphere dissipates. 

“What’s that look for, Reg?” You whisper, unwilling to raise your voice as confusion stirs the air into silence. 

Regulus huffs through his nose and wraps his hand around your wrist, stepping to stand beside you as he looks towards Harry, “Just wondering if it’s too late to leave and go back to Norway.” 

You shake your head and go to retort, but you’re cut off by a resounding voice emitting somewhere among the swath of students, “Someone grab him!” 

Your eyebrows furrowed together at the outlandish suggestion and your eyes trail about to try and distinguish who it came from. Seeing many of the gazes aimed towards a cluster of Slytherins, you tilt your head as you see an unfamiliar boy pointing towards Harry. 

Ginny makes her way in front of Harry, spurring the rest of your friends to crowd around the speechless boy. As your eyes begin to wander, wanting to take note of those who were readily jumping to serve your friend on a silver platter, you make eye contact with an unimpressed Blaise. 

The boy’s eyes flicker to look at Regulus before they jump back to you, an eyebrow slanting up in a manner that reminds you all too much of the Contessa. Blaise slowly slinks towards the back of the crowd just as Filch hobbles into the hall, shouting incoherently about students being out of bed. 

“You have some explaining to do.” Blaise’s velvety voice sounds from behind you, causing you to jump out of your skin.

Turning around on your heels, you slam your palm against your chest to jumpstart your heart again. Did he apparate? How the hell did he just appear behind you?

Rolling your eyes, you give the boy a brief hug, “Nice to see you too, B. Sorry that I went AWOL, I wasn’t exactly in contact with anyone.” 

“Except my mother.” He points out with a sniff, arms crossing. 

Coughing lightly into your fist, you sheepishly smile in apology, “Nothing big, just aiding some vigilantes.” 

“You are a vigilante yourself, no? And you couldn’t have sent a little slip of paper telling me ‘hey, I’m alive!’, could you now?” He mutters with narrowed eyes. 

Shifting from foot to foot, you lightly frown, “Uh, sorry?” 

He waves you off before setting his eyes on Regulus, who looks infinitely amused by your friend’s antics. Blaise pauses for a split second before a shit-eating grin plasters itself on his face, “Oh, how prestante! You disappeared and found yourself a pure blood boyfriend, I see.” 

You blanch at his words and he snickers, “Merlin, don’t look so surprised. His facial structure just screams pure blood.” 

“Okay, that’s enough of you, B.” You hiss, “You absolute menace.” 

The boy doesn’t have time to respond as students begin to file out of the hall, someone bumping against your shoulder as McGonagall announces that students would be evacuated, underage students taking priority, while those of age were welcome to stay. 

Your eyes widen at the announcement, the reality of your situation crash landing on you all at once. “B, go. And look out for Draco, will you?.” You point your chin forward, eyes flying around the room before you settle them on Regulus, “Reg, go with Blaise.” 

Regulus swivels to look at you with wide, disbelieving eyes, “I hope you’re joking.” 

“And I hope you’re joking. I’m not letting you run into danger without a wand!” You shoot back emphatically with a sharp tone. 

“Dio mio,” Blaise clicks his tongue, gracefully shoving his wand towards Regulus, “Here. If you break it or lose it, my dear Y/N will no longer have a boyfriend.” 

You and Regulus pause. One beat of silence passes, then another. 

“Blaise, what the bloody hell? Absolutely not! Your mother is going to have my head if she finds out that I left you defenseless.” You sputter, hands flying up and nearly batting into a passing student. 

The boy shifts to the side to avoid a stumbling first-year as he keeps his eyes steady on yours, “Good thing she’ll never know then. Besides, I won’t be needing it. I plan to apparate to Zabini Manor with Theo and Draco once we get out of here.” He rolls his eyes impatiently once you and Regulus remain motionless, “Now take it before I change my mind.”

“Are you absolutely sure?” You mutter quietly, eyes trailing towards the dark wand, feeling torn despite your friend’s insistence. 

“Well, he’s going to follow you anyway, and I’d rather be temporarily without a wand than permanently without a friend because you jumped in front of a curse trying to protect him.” He muses dryly, eyes quickly shifting to appraise Regulus as the boy reaches for the wand. 

He was going about this way too casually, a wizard’s wand was practically their life! But there was no arguing with the obstinate git, especially when he had that determined look in his eyes. 

You nod and swallow harshly as your throat wells up with thick emotion, “Thank you, B. Stay safe, okay? And make sure Draco doesn’t do anything stupid.” 

“No worries, our dragon is all out of stupid after what happened last year.” The italian winks at you before elegantly spinning around, his robes billowing behind him as he strides towards the exit, weaving his way towards a familiar mop of platinum blond. 

Regulus twirls Blaise’s wand around in his hand as he gets used to the feeling. He looks over at you with a warm smile, eyes twinkling brightly as a fire lights in them, “Always a good judge of character, birdie. Indeed, you are proficient at picking friends.” 

“Clearly not proficient enough, Crowface. I managed to grow attached to a stubborn bastard like you.” You hum playfully, taking a hold of his wrist to drag him towards your circle of friends. 

Though, one meaningful glance from your savior friend was enough for you to understand: split up and haul ass. 

Hermione and Ron take off in search of the basilisk corpse in the Chamber of Secrets, while Luna gives you a small smile before darting off towards Harry with a frustrated frown. Professor McGonagall almost breaks her neck doing a double take at Regulus, clearly recognizing him, but says nothing of her revelation as she ushers you with her. 

Regulus trails after you both, flocked by Professor Flitwick and Molly Weasley, both giving the boy discreet side eyes. 

“L/N, we are going to need to give Potter as much time as possible. I’m sure you have an idea of how you can utilize your skills.” The woman gives you a small knowing smile, and you nod back quickly despite not knowing exactly what she was insinuating. 

It is not until she spins back around and braces her hands up that your brain begins to work again. 

“Piertotem locomotor!”

Your eyebrows furrow at the foreign spell, but your attention is immediately redirected when a deep thudding echoes from somewhere in front of your willowy professor. Peering around her, your eyes widen as numerous concrete knights begin to march out in streams from the entrance hall. 

Ah. We’re Harry’s first line of defense. 

Winking at a fascinated Regulus, you couldn’t resist the urge to demonstrate your own magical prowess, wanting to match up to the boy’s level of intellect. Drawing your wand out, you scurry down the series of stairs and drop to your knees, beginning to draw out the most complex shielding runes you knew, tangling the swirls of characters into compounds of symbols that begin to shimmer against the dull ground. 

The strings of characters glow brightly before darting off into the sky in a flurry of streaks, reinforcing the growing bubble being patched together by the Order members. You continue to relentlessly draw your symbols, the ache in your wrist being overshadowed by the warmth of pride that lit up in your chest at the sight of your runes chaining themselves to the colossal dome. 

Ways off from you, you see Regulus marveling at the sky, eyes dancing around the strings of your runes. Your brain screeches to a halt as you zone in to look at the boy, mouth floating into a faint smile at the way his lips imperceptibly part. 

It was paradoxical, how at the height of slaughter and war, you fell into a hum of peace at that very moment. Your drifting thoughts only surge forwards when a procession of wispy blue streams hail towards the near-translucent dome, raining down towards you in mottles of cerulean orbs. 

Just as you begin to rise from your position, knees wobbling unsteadily along the way, the feathery streaks crash into the shield and explode into veins of white combustion. The loud crashing of explosions deafen you, and you stumble in blinded shock towards Regulus. 

The boy is already making his way towards you, face grim as he strides across the plaza with purpose. You barely refrain from crashing into him as he reaches to hold onto your biceps. 

Blisters of blinding white wash over your figures as you grip onto his elbows. Chancing a glance at the sky, you laugh shakily, “Think you still know how to handle a wand?” 

Regulus smiles and cups your cheek, “Of course, I have to protect you somehow.” 

“Your sense of humor dazzles me, love,” you search his face, opening your mouth to continue your retort, only to be disrupted by a painfully loud explosion, followed by the sound of insistent sizzling. 

Above you, your beloved crown of protection withers away like disintegrating paper. 

Chaos erupts almost instantaneously with giants lumbering through the concrete knights on the bridge, as arrays of colorful light fracture the structures around you. You catch a glimpse of Professor Flitwick scurrying around the crumbling soldiers, hands gesturing frantically for the students to take cover inside. 

The rune weavings that you spelled float listlessly until they gravitate towards the castle, speedily wrapping around a couple of the towers and absorbing into its walls. Regulus grabs your hand and you both sprint for cover behind a pile of rubble, ducking as gusts of apparition soar above you. 

Screaming begins to bloom into the air, followed by hurried shouts of curses and spells. You spring up onto your heels, wand at the ready as your eyes dart around frantically, heart virtually beating in your neck. 

“Crucio!” 

Your neck snaps to the side at the guttural yell, barely muffling a yelp as a red bulb of light zips towards you. Dodging the spell, you feel a symphony of rage tug at your nerves at the sight of a familiar death eater—the man who had grabbed you during the attack at the Department of Mysteries, Augustus Rookwood. 

Practically swinging your wand, you hurl your spell, “Reducto!” 

The man goes flying across the courtyard, smashing through a cracked archway before landing roughly like a ragdoll. You feel someone press against your back, barely taking note that Regulus and you were fighting back-to-back before another death eater sets their sights on you. 

You don’t know how much time passes as you and Regulus weave through onslaughts of killing curses, blasting aside enemies and assisting other students in their duels. Your world of blurry fighting trickles into clarity once you catch sight of an enormous giant swinging down at a familiar trio, all of them sprinting further down the ruinous remains of one of the castle walkways. 

“Paxillos Inferni!” Your shout echoes all around you, and your vision tunnels in on the cast of neon orange that darts from the tip of your wand. A wave of satisfaction drenches you as you see the giant drop its weapon in surprise, body jolting in agony before dozens of small razor-like spikes sprout from its body, suddenly expanding in size with a sickening crunch. The giant drops to its knees, a lifeless husk, remaining upright, supported by the flurry of colossal spikes that impaled it from every direction.

A few death eaters in your vicinity stop in their tracks, eyes widening as they take in the sight of the shredded giant and your bright eyes. Regulus swings his arm forward, sending a death eater packing before taking notice of your victory. 

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” He mutters reverentially, eyes drifting from the carnage around you before settling on the palisade-giant fusion. 

You shrug before taking advantage of the wave of shock around you, incapacitating a few lingering death eaters, “In one of the books at Grimmauld Place.” 

“I see. Nice work, dear.” He hums, tying up a sprinting death eater before the crazed woman could attack a distracted Hufflepuff. 

A sudden chill ensnares the nerves in your spine and fingertips, and you have to suppress the violent shudder tugging at your muscles. Risking a glance away from the enemies in front of you, your mouth falls ajar at the sight of a curtain of black drifting towards you. 

“Dementors.” You murmured, unnerved by the sheer amount of the creatures making their way over. The golden trio tumble forward and become struck by the same sight. The dementors drop down towards the bridge, swinging and weaving around fallen bodies and chunks of concrete. 

A gust of blue threads tangle into a large sphere before expanding across the bridge, the exceptionally powerful patronus charm managing to ward away a majority of the dementor army. Your eyebrows fly towards the sky as you catch sight of Aberforth, the man’s wand extended out towards the retreating veils of grey. 

You had no idea the man was even capable of producing a patronus with how downtrodden he seemed just hours before. This would be the last time you’d judge a wizard by their supposed disposition. 

Catching sight of a few stray dementors, you instinctually raise your wand, expertly locating a few specific memories of yours to manifest the spell, “Expecto Patronum.”

The familiar sparrow bursts from your wand and darts towards the dementor, the creature immediately retreating into the sea of darkness as the small bird perseveres in its chase. 

“What?” Regulus’ breathless mutter has you directing your attention to him, eyebrows raising at the astonished look drawn on his face. 

Feeling bashfulness crawl up your chest, you clear your throat and jump back into battle, only sparing him a small biting remark, “Laugh about it later.” 

The boy follows your lead and sends a hex towards a cluster of death eaters, “Laugh about what?” His voice is tinged in disbelief, yet still marred by his previous amazement. 

“What do you mean, about what?–” you blast an unsuspecting death eater in the side, “--Obviously about my patronus.” 

“Why would I laugh?” He practically yells over the commotion of explosions raining from all around you. 

You want to groan, feeling that perhaps he was trying to torture you, “Because! It’s a bird. A little birdie.” The boy glances at you with a minute frown of perplexion before his eyes slowly shift in realization, head snapping back to take down a few more enemies. 

Once the mayhem around you quells in just the slightest, he turns back to you, “Merlin, what am I going to do with you?” He mutters with a faint grin. Before you have time to question him, he shifts around and lifts his wand up, “Expecto Patronum.” 

The light blue swirls jet out from the borrowed wand and you raise an unimpressed eyebrow as it surges towards a confused death eater, the man watching as the spell flies towards him. You really couldn’t blame him—you too, would be rendered speechless at the arbitrary display. 

Just when the spell goes to topple into the man, it morphs into a familiar shape that has you gasping. Regulus’ small patronus sharply shoots up into the sky before it can crash into the death eater, the small bird rounding in circles before dissipating into the night. 

You and Regulus don’t miss a beat despite the demonstration, both taking aim at the flabbergasted death eater and sending off your best hexes. Once the man goes tumbling away, Regulus turns towards you, “A finch.” 

“A finch…” you echo quietly. 

Finches and Sparrows. Complementary birds.

“You-” you can barely comprehend the look on Regulus’ face as he breaks out into a wide smile. Your mouth parts, taken aback by how blatant his fondness was. 

“My little birdie.” He whispers affectionately, leaning to rest his forehead against yours. 

Your heart stutters on the spot, and you have to close your eyes to try and grasp onto reality. Regulus’ hands dance around your waist as colorful blobs spiral across your eyelids, the stench and discord of war suddenly shoved out of the forefront of your mind. 

Opening your eyes, you take a brief moment to peer into the boy’s eyes, mouth pursing once you see the fire dancing in them. 

“Blast me into a wall if you hate this.” You whisper. Regulus merely grins, immediately understanding your thoughts, and looking anything but bewildered. 

Giving no time for lingering doubts to fester, you surge forward and crash your lips onto his. He reciprocates immediately, gently nudging you behind a mountain of rubble as his lips dance with yours. Your hands run around his sides, seeking something to ground yourself to as he leans in further, completely pressing himself to you. 

His hands press themselves into your back, pushing you impossibly closer to him as if he were afraid you’d fall through the ground and disappear. You both continue to clash together for a dizzying amount of time, only stopping once the burning for oxygen practically imprints itself into your lungs. 

Pulling back with a huff, your eyes widen in disbelief. Reality comes crashing into you like a bludger as your eyes jump around every little freckle on his face. Regulus’ chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, eyes refusing to stray from yours. 

“We-” you utter, voice practically a squeak. 

Regulus’ eyes flicker with mirth before he drops his head to sprinkle fleeting kisses on your jaw and neck. Your hands freeze against his chest, not knowing how to handle the hot flash of disbelief and giddiness that sinks into your frame. 

Your brain was glitching, perhaps even smoking out of your ears. 

Eventually, you gently push the boy off of you, eyes already flying around in search of approaching enemies. Flashing the boy a warm smile, you slowly begin to emerge from behind the mass of concrete, “Let’s continue this later, yeah?” Your voice comes out smaller than you’d hope, but you’re just happy it wasn’t shaky. 

“No protests from me, birdie.” Regulus whispers lightly, hand ghosting your back as he submerges himself back into battle. 

You aren’t sure how much time has passed, but you are vaguely aware of how the sky seems to shed away into a forlorn grey as opposed to its former void of pitch black. When you spin on your heel, you make eye contact with a panicked Harry which has all of your mental alarms ringing. 

“Reg!” You call over your shoulder, not glancing back again as you briskly march over to your friend, cognizant of the faint sound of footsteps behind you. 

As you near the boy, you reach over to grasp his forearm, “Harry?” 

Harry gulps, “Where’s Draco?”

“With Blaise, they evacuated.” Your voice is cautious, watching as Harry’s eyes flicker from you to the battle behind you. 

“Oh…Goyle’s dead.” 

“He’s what–what the hell? Harry?” 

He shakes his head, eyes darting to look at Regulus before he averts his gaze to peer off into the distance, “No time. Come on.” 

You share a look of resigned confusion with Regulus before you’re both bounding off after the speeding boy, mind whirring on overdrive as you all duck into the steep shadows and clamber down a vacant stairway. Harry crouches down as you near a building, and you can only silently squawk once you realize it was the Shrieking Shack. 

What the hell was the boy up to this time?

Harry leans against one of the walls and peers into a crack in the mosaic glass, eyes wide as he mutely scrutinizes the scene in front of him. You and Regulus huddle together to do the same, but not before you quietly cast a concealment charm to hide your presence. 

You’re able to make out Snape’s figure, the man’s face was undoubtedly sullen as he tracks the movements of his companion with a perpetual frown. You feel Regulus tense by your side as you both recognize the other occupant in the room. 

Clenching your jaw, you shoot Harry a sharp look that he ignores, the boy becoming entranced by the conversation Snape was having with bloody fucking Voldemort. Craning your head closer to the cloudy glass, you can faintly make out what the tense exchange was about. 

The Elder Wand?

Regulus drops his hand down to interlace with yours, eyes shifting back and forth over the lattice of the window as he tries to fathom the topic. A few moments of eerie silence stretch out before you’re flinching back as something tersely slams against the window in front of you. 

Your first instinct is to reach for your wand and prepare yourself for confrontation, but upon closer inspection of the glass, you realize that it was muddled by a dark heap. Tilting your head, you hover a finger over the middle of the black shadow, eyes widening once you see the figure move ever so slightly. 

Harry’s hands are clenched tightly by his side as he peers on with unblinking eyes. 

“Nagini kill.” 

The cold voice has you swallowing a gasp, ears prickling with cold needles of dread at the realization of what was happening. A reverberant hissing slices through the air and soon you’re watching helplessly as the figure in front of you slams and struggles against the pane of glass.

Tears stab at your eyes painfully as you remain rooted to your spot, shoulders completely slack as shame wrings your veins unrelentingly. Separated by a mere two inches of glass. You wanted more than anything to be endowed with a wave of courage—to spring into action and save your Professor, but you knew you couldn’t. 

Two inches of glass, and Snape didn’t even know such little distance separated him from help. Or maybe he did—yet, you didn’t know if that was worse. If he knew you were all there, and gave no inkling of knowledge to the vindictive Dark Lord. Was he protecting you all? 

The banging ceases, eventually. 

Your jaw trembles violently as splatters of blood decorate the panes in front of you, dripping bright red, the streaks mocking you. Regulus’ face is completely blank and devoid of any color, but you could see the deep-seated agony flashing in his eyes. 

Were they friends? You couldn’t help but want to ask, knowing that Regulus would have been Snape’s junior whilst at Hogwarts.

You hear Snape grapple with his pain, gasping forcibly into the silent air. For a few moments, you wait it out, not wanting to storm into the building just in case Voldemort was basking in his most recent attack. 

Harry shoots you a quick nod, and that’s all it takes for you to fly onto your feet, body pushing through the worn door with such force that it slams into the adjacent wall. Your eyes find your Professor immediately, heart flying away into the dusty shadows somewhere as you collapse by his side. Regulus kneels down by Snape’s feet, eyes searching the older man’s disorientated gaze. 

“Professor!” Your voice comes out as a thick tremble, hands shaking with adrenaline as you fish out your wand. You begin to try and cast the strongest healing charms you know, but deep in the back of your hazy brain, you knew it would be fruitless. Harry crouches down opposite of you, posture more reserved—guarded, as he swallows harshly.

Snape glances at you briefly, eyes already dimming, before he turns to look at Harry when the boy tries to put pressure on the man’s wound. You refuse to look behind the blood-soaked collar, knowing that his neck was likely a mangled, stringy mess of flesh and muscle. 

“Take them…Take them…” Snape utters with a pained groan, small glimmers of tears rolling down his cheeks. Harry, seeming to understand the man’s urgency, whips out a small glass vial from his pocket and collects the tiny droplets. 

Snape reaches out with a weak hand towards your frantic friend, fingers ghosting over his face as he smiles weakly, “You have your mother’s eyes.” 

Harry barely bats an eye at the man’s words, only peering at him with a mournful gaze. Regulus speaks up for the first time, eyes hard as he addresses your friend without taking his eyes off of Snape, “Harry, go.” 

The boy looks over to you in question, and you give him a brief nod. 

Harry hesitates before leaning back and nodding slowly, hand gradually retracting from the bloody mess of the man’s neck. Your friend bites the inside of his cheek before capping the glass vial, “Goodbye, sir.” 

Without looking back, Harry flees the room and leaves you alone with the dying man. Your hands wander about in the air helplessly, as you grit your teeth, “Professor, you can’t die.” 

Snape’s head lolls over to your side, and he gazes at you dully, chest rising and falling more erratically now. You shake your head and furrow your eyebrows, “Do you think you can just drop down and die like this! You still need to apologize to Harry. If you die, I’ll never forgive you. I don’t know what the hell you’ve been up to this whole time–this whole war–but Dumbledore trusted you. And Dumbledore was no bloody fool. So, live.” Your voice, once hard and full of fiery conviction, drops to a low whisper, “Live so I know that I haven’t defended you for no reason.” 

The man squints at you and his fingers weakly twitch, lightly tapping your hand once. Slowly, his eyes flicker to meet Regulus’ tense figure. 

“Regulus.” The man murmurs, syllables becoming slurred as his eyes droop lower. 

Regulus nods and shifts to sidle by you, hands reaching over to pat the man’s arm, “It’s me, Severus. It’ll be okay now, just rest.” Regulus’ soft words of comfort bring a small smirk to Snape’s face, and as you go to say more, your Professor’s breathing stutters to a stop. 

“Fuck.” You mumble out with a scrunched face, eyes burning as you press the image of Snape’s still body into your memory. Regulus’ shoulders sag, and he slowly reaches over to button up the collar of Snape’s robes with glassy eyes. 

“He might have actually been a spy for the Dark Lord this whole time, birdie.” Regulus whispers, hands drawing back slowly once he finishes his task. 

You sniffle and turn away from your dead professor, “I don’t know. I don’t want to believe that. I don’t even have a sound reason for my judgment—I can just sense it.” 

Regulus nods and reaches to cradle your face in his hands, “Your senses have yet to steer you wrong, little bird. I trust your judgment, always.” 

It was inscrutable. How could you truly mourn, pity, or empathize with a man who most thought to be Hogwarts’ most depraved? It was dichotomic how you wished to understand Snape’s motivations, but simultaneously wanted to spell away any memory you had of the man. 

A part of you hoped that he was everything you thought him to be—slightly misunderstood, heavily misguided, and desperately in need of atonement. Another part of you also prayed that it was the antithesis of your feelings—that he was truly an unredeemable, malevolent mastermind that fooled Dumbledore. At least that way, when the public inevitably denounced the man, he would deserve it. 

You refuse to shed tears over Snape’s death, but you wallow in the sea of hurt and conflict that threatens to drown you as you and Regulus make your way back to the castle. It takes a few moments before you snap back into reality, immediately tensing up as you scout the area for any signs of life. 

Regulus was faring better than you at the moment, eyes set forward, one hand grasping Blaise’s wand, the other, tightly clutching yours. 

“It will end soon.” He mutters, voice level and firm with certainty. 

You don’t respond, but you feel a pebble of determination fling itself into the empty cavity of your chest. As you both slip into a dark corridor of the castle, wands raised, you hear distant explosions and yelling around the corner. 

It was time to gear up for battle again. Throwing yourself into a slight duck, you swing out from the darkness with a hex at the tip of your tongue, a vicious spell rippling through the air and crashing devastatingly into a death eater moments after. 

Mayhem befalls the ruined hallway in a matter of seconds, and you catch a glimpse of two ginger mops. Slowly knocking down death eaters, you work further towards the two Weasleys. When you get within a few yards of the familiar individuals, you feel a small smile paint itself on your lips as you realize it happened to be Fred and Percy, fighting side-by-side. 

Seems as though Percy made up with the rest of them. 

Just as you send two death eaters down the stairs and into the path of a few stray hexes, you see Fred get knocked to the floor in your peripheral. The death eater standing over your friend waves his hand up menacingly, no doubt ready to obliterate him. 

Jumping into action, you aim your wand at the man’s back, “Mors Ruinam!”

A large void swallows the unsuspecting man before unceremoniously spitting him out from the ceiling just as Regulus shoots off a particularly nasty hex. 

You hoped that the Ministry wouldn’t be checking your wands after the battle. 

Fred is still splayed out against the wall when you approach him, face drained of color as he comes to terms with his near-death experience. You extend a hand to help him up, grunting when the boy nearly drags you down in his attempt to rise up. 

“What the hell was that?” He exclaims, eyes suddenly wide and bright. 

Leave it to the Weasley twins to bounce back at light speed. 

“Just a fun little dark spell.” You flash him a small relieved smile. 

He grins and claps your shoulder, “Wicked!” 

Percy makes his way over to the three of you with a nod, dark circles jumping out from his face as he slowly gestures for you all to make your way further up the castle. 

“Have either of you seen Sirius?” You ask, eyes trailing to focus on the wisps of fire that peeked through the cracks of the ceiling. 

“Reckon he’s with Remus and Tonks.” Fred supplies, glancing back to give Regulus a confused look. You nod and cough into your fist, eyes avoiding Fred’s as you deign him with an answer of your own, “Uh, this is my…boyfriend…Regulus.” 

Fred’s face splits into a grin and he nearly faceplants on the stairs as he shoots Regulus a knowing look, “Double wicked.” You roll your eyes, knowing that the next family and friends meeting would be awkward as you’d have to explain how and why you were dating Sirius’ dead brother. 

Regulus raises his eyebrows in amusement before tangling your fingers together. The journey up to one of the collapsing towers was uneventful from then on, but you were deeply relieved to see that Sirius was still up and running. 

“Pup!” He grins broadly, turning back around for a split second to blast an apparating death eater out of the window. The man makes his way over to you, giving you a brief hug before ruffling his brother’s hair, “Where’s Harry?” 

Just running amuck with your dead professor’s tears, no biggie. 

“Off and about. He was fine, last we saw him.” You answer with a hum, eyes catching Remus’ tired ones from across the tower ledge. 

“Where is Tonks at?” You wonder aloud.

Sirius hums and twirls to look at his fatigued friend, “Shacklebolt. They’re off somewhere inside the castle.” 

Percy steps forward and huffs quietly, “We should make our way down. There’s no telling how much longer this place will stand.” 

Before anyone could make a move to clamber down the stairs, a familiar steely voice hissed through your mind, “You have fought valiantly…but in vain. I do not wish this. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a terrible waste. I therefore command my forces to retreat. In their absence, dispose of your dead with dignity. Harry Potter, I now directly speak to you. On this night, you have allowed your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. There is no greater dishonor. Join me in the forbidden forest and confront your fate…”

A few beats of silence pass and you could hear a few faint pops of apparition echo throughout the perimeter. 

“That isn't going to bode well with Harry.” You murmur, and Sirius grimly nods at your words, quickly retreating down the stairs. 

The walk down to the bustling dining hall is pervaded by a sense of dread and anxiety, all of you still on guard as if expecting a death eater to leap around the corner at any moment.  Just as you reach the heavy doors, Harry comes striding towards your little group from the other side of the corridor. 

Your head perks up at the sight of your friend, but confusion washes over you when you see the hard look in his eyes. His eyebrows are harshly furrowed as he stares down Sirius and Remus, both men looking at each other in confusion before starting to walk over to your friend. 

“Hey uh, Fred, Percy, I think your family is inside.” You cough out, not looking back as you debate on whether or not you should approach your furious friend. Luckily, both Weasley brothers feel the tension in the air and heed your silent request, Fred throwing an arm over his disgruntled brother’s shoulders as they saunter away. 

“What do you think happened, love?” You mutter, peering over to study Regulus’ expression. 

He turns to you and hums, “Snape gave Harry his memories earlier, I’m guessing he saw something he didn’t like.” 

You raise an eyebrow at the boy and bump your hip against his, “You know something.” 

“I know a lot of things, birdie.” He muses, pressing a hand to your lower back as you both watch on. 

Harry runs a hand around his lips before he peers up at his godfather and pseudo-uncle, muttering something that has both men flinching back as if he tossed a flame at them. You cross your arms as Harry sighs, seeming to retreat in his tirade, stepping around both men and marching in your direction. 

You shift to give him a questioning look, but he shakes his head and grabs both you and Regulus by the arm, pushing in between you both as he continues on his war path, “Later.” 

You don’t think you will ever receive an answer from your friend. Your heart feels like it is being ripped from your body as you stand atop of the ruined stairs along with the remaining survivors, watching as a completely still Harry is being paraded over to you by a river of death eaters. 

Neville grips the worn sorting hat tightly in his hands, mouth wobbling as he takes in the sight of the approaching forces. Your mouth stretches into a painful line as your eyes zone in on a particularly enthusiastic death eater dancing around beside Voldemort’s strutting figure. 

“Neville.” 

The boy turns to you as you begin to make your way down to him. 

“I hope you won’t mind if I send her to Merlin,” you whisper as you perch beside him atop a hill of rubble. 

Neville narrows his eyes at the woman before nodding, “Get to her first. I won’t be able to hold myself back otherwise.” 

“Deal. I’ll help you with the Lestrange brothers then.” 

Your brief exchange comes to a halt as Voldemort and his forces stop just a few yards shy of you both. 

Voldemort shoots a feral grin at the crowd before spreading his arms out widely in triumph, “Harry Potter is dead!” 

Ginny shoots out from somewhere behind you with a distressed wail, “NO! No!” 

Her father barely manages to tug her back as Voldemort hisses, pointing a spindly finger at her, “Silence! Stupid girl.” 

You want to snarl at the man, hand slowly wrapping around your wand. Regulus moves out from somewhere in the crowd behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder as he stares down the laughing death eaters. 

Voldemort’s gloating continues for a few more moments before his eyes flit towards you and Regulus. It seems that world tips on its axis in that moment as the serpentine man stills on the spot before his face shifts to one of rage, the man’s change in demeanor spurring Bellatrix to follow his gaze. 

“Traitor!” She all but screeches, immediately lifting her wand to aim at Regulus. You react just as quickly, whipping your wand up to blast the woman into the next life, but you’re both distracted by the sound of a few gasps. Reeling over to look at the source of shock, your mouth curls up as you see Harry roll on the ground, standing and firing a spell towards Voldemort’s snake. 

Bellatrix whips her head to look at Voldemort before becoming further enraged as death eaters begin to flee by the dozen, clearly petrified by your friend’s ability to dodge death. 

“Reggie, cover me!” You yell, taking advantage of Bellatrix’s distracted state. The boy complies immediately, watching your surroundings as he begins to fire spells into the disarrayed crowd of death eaters. 

“Flipendo!” 

Your spell sweeps the demented woman off of her feet, her hair flying wildly as she bounces off of a broken slab of concrete. Explosions ring from all around you as Voldemort begins to take chase behind a fleeing Harry. 

Bellatrix recovers quickly, clambering around on the ground as she tries to find her wand. You almost want to drag out this one-sided duel to a torturous degree, but petty games had no place amidst war. 

Pointing your wand at a stone, you swing your arm through the air, “Depulso!” The rugged rock soars through the air before crashing into Bellatrix’s hunched figure, reducing her frantic movements into trembling pulses as she crumbles back down onto the ground. 

You pace towards her slack body, heart skipping as your mind races. Fuck, you didn’t kill her did you?

The woman’s eyes bulge in their sockets as she helplessly stares at your looming figure. 

“Filthy…traitor.” She mutters with a strained voice, mouth twisting into a repulsive sneer. 

You huff and shoot a glance towards Regulus, relaxing when you see him occupied with a duel, “Still have the energy to talk, do you?” 

The woman doesn’t answer, and only continues to gaze at you venomously. Her wand had clattered to the ground just a few feet away, and you faintly smile before kicking the curved stick into a nearby fire. 

“You brought this upon yourself. And really, it’s a shame for you that I’m not Neville,” you grin broadly at the woman, “he is far more merciful.” 

Before the woman can respond, you pace back a few steps before aiming at her, “Anima Redimat.”

The woman gasps shrilly, watching with frightful eyes as the purple spell sinks into her body, “You-” 

“You recognize it then? The Soul Ripping spell. I’ve heard you’re quite a fan of soul magic.” You hum as she gapes at you, “You’re not the only one who’s been around Grimmauld Place’s library.” 

The woman is unable to reply as the effect of the curse kicks off, a faint purple tinge enveloping her body. Bellatrix begins to twitch on the ground, limbs sliding around in a distressful dance before she completely stills, eyes wide and unseeing as her form freezes in a contorted manner. 

You spin on your heel and slide into the mayhem around the courtyard, firing off an endless flurry of hexes as a tidal wave of adrenaline pushes the world into clarity. Regulus joins you by your side soon after, eyes never once moving to greet his cousin’s lifeless form. 

As you turn to send off another spell, you still on the spot as you come face-to-face with Narcissa Malfoy. 

“Lady Malfoy.” You greet evenly, moving to blast away a death eater behind her. 

The woman hardly flinches at your ministrations and continues to stare at you before she finally whispers, “Draco?” 

“With Contessa Zabini and his friends, I sent Blaise off to take care of him earlier.” You reply, sending a binding spell flying from your wand as you see Rabastan Lestrange sprint across the rubble around you. 

The woman nods and peers at you with relieved eyes, “I see. Perhaps we should have tea one of these days.” Without waiting for a response, she strides away and grabs her husband, apparating out of the battlefield in the blink of an eye. 

Why did everyone insist on having tea with you? Your stress levels will be off the charts by the end of the day.

“Making your way up high society, birdie?” Regulus chuckles from beside you, a glint of satisfaction flashing across his eyes as he overpowers his opponent. 

“A penchant of mine.” You reply, tone glazed with amusement. 

Regulus shakes his head as he flings his fallen challenger away from him, “Trust me, the grandeur of it fades quickly.” 

The battle ensues for a few more beats before crescendoing as two figures suddenly drop down and roll into the middle of the square, driving everyone’s attention towards the disruption. 

It seems that time halts in place as Voldemort and Harry gather their bearings, wands raised up as beams of green clash into red, an overwhelming aura of power mounting up into the air. You faintly feel the magic, Voldemort’s smothering signature grappling with Harry’s light and airy one. 

The junction of power twirls into a vibrating ball of light as you see both men shake to push forward. Voldemort suddenly collapses onto his knees as the magic fades, a tense silence dispelling the air from your lungs as you step forward with bated breath. Harry quickly peers back in shock, and his contrast from Voldemort’s stricken demeanor tells you all you need to know: the tide of the battle has changed. 

Both men swing their wands forward again, but the power clash is less evident this time as the Dark Lord futilely struggles against Harry’s potent magic. The push-and-pull between the two disintegrates once Voldemort becomes enveloped by his own spell, the green wrapping around his figure like a deflating bubble. 

The man crumbles to his knees, body gradually going rigid on the spot as his skin begins to flake off into a wisps of ash. The swirl of flying particles reduces the man to nothingness, and you feel like you can breathe again. 

Voldemort was no more.

Harry steadies himself to his feet before smiling shakily, turning on the spot to greet the confounded faces around him. Sirius and Remus come flying from somewhere in the crowd, examining Harry’s condition as the boy stares off in content. 

This war was over.

So many years of suffering and struggle finally blooming into a new era, and your friend was at the center of it all. 

Regulus inhales shakily before turning to face you, seizing your stiff body into his arms when you glance back at him with disbelieving eyes. 

For the second time that day, he joins your lips together, and you can only claw at his enthusiastic figure helplessly as he crowds you against him. Cheering echoes from all around you as more people begin to pool into the courtyard, cries of victory lifting to the skies and blowing away the gloomy clouds. 

You cup Regulus’ face as you both slowly disconnect, lips swollen and eyes wide. 

“I love you, birdie.” He whispers with conviction, hands dropping to grip your waist. 

Your laugh bubbles into the air with a watery edge, and you try to ignore the tender fulfillment that permeates across your chest, “I love you too, Reg.” 

Today you would shed relieved tears and hold the untimely losses close to your heart, but with the battle won, tomorrow would be the beginning of a new chapter for Magical Britain. You would have to begin reconstruction, reelections, and rehabilitations—mere band-aids for the decades of emptiness that would scar every survivor of the Wizarding Wars, but it would suffice.

The incalculable change was a never-ending battle—even with Voldemort gone, but at least now you have Regulus by your side. Perhaps if change became too much, you could pay Reine a visit. 

A vacation or permanent getaway could be in order now, but that seemed like a worry for tomorrow.

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AINT NO WAY THIS WAS POATED ON MY BIRTHDAY AND I DISNT FUCKING SEE IT 😭😭

Holy shit that was so fucking sad, I’m legitimately tearing up cause that just made me feel a bunch of things 🧍also I haven’t seen many paternal Viktor fics (in which I understand that people are pretty against wanting children [I am too], but I need that fluff rn so I can procrastinate on assignments and not have to think about school atm 💀) mind you spring semester has JUST started and I’m over professors assigning 15 assignments for one week worth of homework… yes that did just happen to me.

Turning Page

Summary: The man you once fell in love with has turned into someone, or something, almost unrecognizable.

Pairings: Herald!Viktor x F!Reader

Tags: Short n sad.

Words: 1.4k

A/N: His face card was so lethal it wasn't affected by the transformation at all.

Hoping to find a cure for Vander, you joined Jinx, Vi, and Isha on a journey to locate this infamous "Herald" deep within the heart of Zaun. You’d come across his name multiple times and had finally decided to give it a shot.

What could go wrong, right?

But the place was nothing like the dark, grotesque pit like it once was. No, it was quite the opposite. This was a sanctuary, a heaven in Runeterra.

Colorful and circular patterns spread across the whole area, as though resembling the process of cell division.

You couldn’t explain it, but something about the entire situation felt off.

In the center of the commune stood a massive circular shed. Its walls bore the same patterns that decorated everything around it, only larger. It was impossible to ignore that this was where the Herald resided—his place of authority.

You all made your way to it, waiting in silence for him to appear.

And he stepped out.

His figure was thin, a combination of metal in shades of purple and black covering his entirety. Yet, strangely, his face was the only part left untouched. He wore a blue robe that almost dragged along the ground with every step, his hair streaked with white at the ends brushing past his shoulders.

"Viktor...?" The name escaped your lips before you could stop it, and you froze.

The figure before you was someone—or something—you never thought you would see again. Your heart raced, unable to make sense of what your eyes were seeing.

Was this really him? The man you once knew now hidden beneath the skin of metal. His presence was familiar, yet he was someone entirely different.

It couldn’t be. No, there was no way this was him.

"It's good to see you again," he said, his voice devoid of expression. "State your purpose."

Your heart sank at his words and the tone of his voice, your mouth slightly fell agape. You hated how it lacked acknowledgment, how he couldn’t even bother to say your name.

It was clear he didn’t care about seeing you again, and right now, you were nothing more than a visitor.

Before he met you, Viktor’s dreams revolved solely around science, the progress of the city, and leaving a legacy. But with you, his ambitions became something simpler. Something human.

He began to dream of things he once thought were beyond him. Like marriage and the idea of creating a family to call his own. But those dreams remained unspoken. He was too afraid to voice them, fearing they might scare you, or worse, shatter the perfect balance between you two.

After all, the thought terrified him just as much as it might have you.

Yet words had never been necessary. You were inseparable, bound by something unsaid but undeniable. To anyone who saw you together, the conclusion was always the same: You were more than friends.

Two souls so intertwined that the line between had blurred, connected by strings purely from the veins that built the two of you. You were practically lovers, just too afraid to admit it even to yourselves.

The explosion at the council had truly taken him from you, or at least the version of him you once knew. All that remained was this cold stranger, and the realization hurt you more than you would like to admit, leaving a void in your heart where love once bloomed.

Before you could gather your thoughts, Vi spoke up, explaining the reason for your visit. But you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, memories from a year ago rushing back just before he vanished.

"Please... You've just been brought back to life. You have to stay with me, Viktor..." Your voice cracked as you added, "What about us?"

Viktor was momentarily stunned by your words, stopping in his tracks as soon as he heard them. He turned to face you, his eyes lacking their spark. Your anxiety rose under his gaze as he uttered words you never imagined would ever escape his lips.

"Was there ever an us?"

The sting of his question lingered in your chest. You couldn’t follow him, not after that. That’s when you let him go, and you never saw him again.

Without a word, you walked away, leaving them to their conversation. Jinx gave you a puzzled look but didn’t bother to follow. You could feel Viktor’s gaze following you as well, and it felt as though it was burning your skin.

You sat down by a fruit vendor, who offered you a piece after noticing the look on your face. "Thank you," you murmured.

Where you sat wasn’t too far from them. You could still see them, but their words were no longer audible.

You watched Viktor. He looked healthy now, but could he truly be considered healthy if he wasn’t even human anymore? Sure, the limp was gone, and the pain he once wore due to his illness was nowhere to be found.

But those were the details that made him human. Those imperfections were the ones you always found beautiful. They were what made Viktor, well, Viktor.

You were relieved he no longer had to suffer, but seeing him replaced by this almost emotionless being broke your heart.

You took a bite of the fruit, its sweetness doing little to ease the knot in your stomach. You watched them as a few more minutes passed. Then the sisters and Isha finally drifted away from Viktor, Vander following him toward a shed away from the others.

Jinx skipped over to you. "Ask for a miracle healer, get a metal fortune cookie," she quipped.

Vi rolled her eyes, her hands stuffed in her pockets as she ignored her sister's blabbering. "What’s going on? You know that guy?"

You exhaled, cheeks puffing up as you tried to find the words. "Honestly? I don’t think I do anymore." You shook your head, struggling to explain. "But we used to be... Uh... We were..."

Vi chuckled, sitting down next to you. "I think I know what you mean," she said with a cheeky smile. "Too bad we’ll probably have to stay here for a couple of days."

Indeed, days had passed. You spent them mingling with the members of the commune, listening to their stories and hearing them recall their life experiences. Every answer circled back to praise for Viktor, voices filled with devotion as they spoke of how he saved them.

You couldn’t help but smile at their words. This was what Viktor always dreamed of—to help the people of Zaun, to ease their endless suffering.

But in pursuing that dream, he had lost you. And perhaps himself.

You avoided interacting with him, focusing instead on Vander’s progress. Viktor was patient with the creature Vander had become, more patient than you expected.

At least that part of him remained intact. At least he was still the same caring Viktor in some way, you thought to yourself.

You let out a laugh as you scooped Isha into your arms, lifting her high into the air. Her giggles filled the commune as you tossed her upward and caught her again.

She clung to you between laughter, arms raised. The joy on her face was so contagious that you couldn’t help but laugh with her, your heart swelling with nothing but happiness.

Viktor lingered behind a wall, his frame half-hidden but still visible. Just watching.

He couldn’t tear his gaze away. Seeing you with Isha simply enchanted him, and it made him feel something he hadn’t in a long time.

Paternal.

He had once dreamed of moments like this. Though, they didn’t consume his thoughts fully, but they lingered as what-ifs.

There were days when he imagined you carrying a child you had created together, soft laughter and lullabies echoing through the living room of the home he built for you.

In those visions, he saw himself holding your child while standing by your side, mouthing words like, "Say, 'Papa,'" as if a two-month-old infant could already talk.

At that moment, those dreams seemed to mock him. As he observed you lovingly holding Isha, a part of that dream reignited in his heart. And for a moment, his lips curved into the smallest of smiles. It was so faint it almost wasn’t even there. It caught him off guard. That smile didn’t come from logic or the machine. It came from somewhere else. Some part of him that still felt... still longed.

A part of him that's you. His humanity.

He blinked, letting the feeling slip away. Whatever part of him that still hoped for that life wasn’t meant to exist here.

Not with what he’d become. Not ever.

He stepped back, retreating to his shed. He would leave things as they were.

For your sake. For his own.

Because some dreams were simply kinder left untouched.

the black cousins

all the hidden meanings!

colors:

red is the color of sirius’ shirt, narcissa’s lips and regulus’ pocket handkerchief. red represents how they rebelled against their family (sirius ran away and was openly against their morals, narcissa lied to voldemort and basically helped defeating him w her words, regulus turned against voldemort at the last moment, dying for his cause)

narcissa and andromeda are the only ones not wearing black, and they’re the only survivors in this picture.

clothes and accessories:

andromeda is wearing a white dress that resembles a bride’s dress, because she ran away to marry ted. her and sirius’s clothes are also less restricting than regulus and narcissa’s, because unlike their younger siblings they got their freedom.

andromeda, like her cousins, is wearing silver jewelry, aside from a gold ring (her engagement ring), and with her hand she’s covering a family pendant (she chose love over her family). regulus is wearing a pin that looks like salazar’s locket.

poses and such:

andromeda isn’t looking at the camera because she was the first to “look away from her family”, and sirius is looking at her because he would soon follow in her footsteps (andy also has a hand on his shoulder to further represent her influence on him). similarly, bellatrix (who is the only one smiling) is keeping an hand on narcissa so she wouldn’t leave. narcissa has a hand clenched in a fist, covered by her left, (as a way to hide her defiance).

ok i think this is all but i’m not sure lmao xx

hope you like it ^^

Finished reading Sunrise on the Reaping in the morning and it absolutely destroyed me and had me sobbing. I’m still pretty sad after reading and my eyes are hot and puffy even though it’s been hours.

I started reading it yesterday and I ended up crying myself to sleep after I finished reading chapter 18. Then I started chapter 19 this morning and finished the book at around 12:58 or at 1:00. Started sobbing violently, snot running down my nose as I finished it… heh.

No wonder my eyes are puffy I’ve been crying for a whole day straight

Second Son (XVII) | Regulus Black

Series Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.

— Chapter Synopsis: Farewells and changes are on the horizon, as are unavoidable confrontations.

Part XVI / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader

Notes: I hope you guys enjoy this...

You don’t think you’ve ever sprinted so fast. As you clamber through the bleached doorway of the home, nearly scaring Asger out of his skin, you suddenly jolt to a stop. Luna peers from over your shoulder, clavicle pressed against your back as she tries to distinguish the cause of your rigidness. 

Slowly stepping inside, you feel your knees tremble as doubt begins to seep into your veins. Asger shoots you a concerned look before filling a glass up with water and disappearing into Regulus’ room. 

Luna carefully guides you to the table and you take a moment to lean against the beat wood. 

“Are you going to stay here?” Her airy words were free of judgment, tone light and even as if she were simply asking you what tea you preferred. You wordlessly nod, barely reacting when the girl pats your shoulders and skips after Asger. 

You run your fingers down your coat as hesitation nips at your nerves, a bubble of anxiety rippling through your chest and up into your throat. Hobbling steps echo distantly in your head, and you’re faintly aware of Anders’ approaching magic. 

“You okay, kid?” His voice was gruff, but colored with understanding. 

You hum quietly, still lost in your head. An unnerving silence roots itself in the room, and you hear Anders shift from leg to leg as he seems to grapple with himself for the right words. 

“Alright.” He huffs. 

You spin around and face the man, eyes widening at him before gluing to the open window across the room, “Alright? You don’t think I’m a coward?” 

Anders rolls his eyes and limps towards you, placing a rugged hand on your shoulder, “Hell you thinking that for?” He moves to sit down next to you, “You’re a lot of things kid, a coward ain’t one of ‘em. Besides, I would do the same.” 

Tilting your head, you swallow harshly as a prickly sensation wraps around your neck, “What do you mean?” 

“If my Anne were to walk through that door right now, I don’t even know what’d I do,” He shakes his head with a wry smile, “Isn’t it funny that you can wish for something so desperately, but the prospect of it actually happening…” 

“It’s unbelievable.” You add, watching as the man nods solemnly. You almost feel selfish for allowing your emotions to taunt you, knowing that you were being handed an ineffable opportunity that the man would kill for. 

Before you can say much else, Asger cracks open the door with a resounding creak, slowly padding out with an unreadable expression, “He’s asking for you.” 

Your eyes widen considerably at his words, and you turn to look at Anders for guidance. The older man simply jerks his head towards the door, eyes closing as an imperceptible smile tugs at his lips. He looked like he was making peace with something–but what?  

Slowly making your way towards the commodious room, you feel your skin buzz and numb, mouth drying up as you gradually sink into a pool of uncertainty. As you cross the threshold, eyes set on the floor, you feel Luna slink around you with a little pat to your back, leaving you both alone.

As the door closes behind you, you slowly raise your gaze up. 

“Hello, birdie.” Regulus’ smile is strained, as if he were pained, but his eyes are practically glowing under the light. He’s sitting up on the makeshift bed, arms resting in his lap as he slowly fiddles with the frays of the blanket. 

A sob tears through your throat, muddling your words into an incomprehensible blubber as you practically fly towards the boy, throwing yourself into his chest. Your tears were no doubt pooling through the thin fabric of his shirt, but the onslaught of searing emotion only continues to flare as you feel him wrap his arms around you.

His arms. It felt so foreign, but so safe. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to him not being in a rectangular frame.

“It’s okay now, I’m here.” He whispers, hand running down your back as he soothes you. 

You shift in his arms and lift your head up, broad tear tracks clinging to your cheeks, “Reggie…you remember me?” If you weren’t so doped up on a tidal wave of emotions, you would have cringed at how thick your voice came out. 

The boy smiles at you softly before bringing a hand up to cup your cheek, “Wouldn’t be able to forget you even if I tried, love.” 

A burst of affection threatens to demolish all of your sense of propriety as you gaze up at the boy, eyes furiously darting around his face to memorialize the tender emotion that paints his eyes. 

You rest your head on his shoulder and tiredly huff, feeling him shiver under you as the cool air hits his neck. It’s only after the passing of a few beats of silence when you realize that you’re practically sprawled across his lap. 

Gaping momentarily at the mortification that shatters your euphoria, you slowly shuffle off of him, “Sorry, Reg.” 

The boy tilts his head in confusion before tightening his hold, gently guiding your head back onto his shoulder, “Nothing to apologize for, birdie.” 

You take a few moments to compose yourself, gently sniffling as your tears begin to cease in intensity, only occasional droplets cascading down. Nuzzling into Regulus’ shoulder unabashedly, your voice comes out a tad muffled, “So do you remember everything then?” 

The boy drops his cheek down atop your head, fingers drawing patterns on your hand as he hums, “It’s all a bit foggy, but I remember the vital things. Of course, the memories from when I was a portrait are more coherent than my childhood memories, but I’m mainly trying to remember how to articulate having a physical body.” 

“You’re not doing too bad.” You tease, a light smile playing on your lips. 

Regulus’ chest vibrates vaguely as he emits a small chuckle, “Oh?” The boy peers down at you before dropping his lips down to the top of your head. Your heart skips at the blatant show of affection, and you grow impossibly fonder of the boy. 

“Thank you for coming back to me.” You whisper softly. 

He slowly drops back into the capacious bed, drawing you down with him as he tucks you against his side, “Thank you for finding me…again.” 

You laugh airily and drop your hand on top of his, suppressing your fluster as he effortlessly weaves your fingers together. The both of you lay together in a comfortable silence, a sudden exhaustion weighing on your chest as you listened to the rhythmic beating of Regulus’ heart. 

You’re unsure of how much time has passed the next time you’re fully cognizant, eyes blinking rapidly to shake away the heaviness of your eyelids. It seems the lethargic state you were reduced to after your emotional reunion led you to a dreamless slumber. In your sleep, you practically glued yourself to Regulus, coming to a realization that the boy had somehow been shoved into the crook of your neck, now also in a peaceful drowse. 

Brushing his curls away from your cheek, you run your fingers along his spine lightly, nails dancing along the clothed plane of his back. At your movements, the boy stirs groggily, a throaty grumble interrupting the atmospheric silence of the room.

You tighten your hold on him and grin when he blearily opens his eyes, head shifting to chase after the warmth of your skin. 

“Morning, baby.” He whispers, nose nudging up against your jaw. His voice is scratchy and still marred by inklings of sleepiness, and you’re not entirely sure if he noticed the little pet name. 

You bite your lip to tame the blinding grin screaming to escape on your face, bringing your fingers to run against his scalp, “Actually, I think it’s nighttime.” 

Regulus huffs quietly against your neck, “Good, so let’s go back to sleep.” 

You hum and open your mouth to agree, but the rumbling of your stomach cuts through the air. Coughing lightly, you ignore the blazing embarrassment that pins itself in your chest, choosing to instead continue your movements.

Regulus nuzzles against you again before slowly detaching from you, raising himself on his elbows as he hovers over you. You could see the sleepiness fade away from his gaze, and you bring a hand up to tuck a curl behind his ear. 

“Let’s get you some food, birdie.” He mumbles, dropping down to peck your forehead. 

The boy sluggishly stretches as he practically rolls off the bed, arms raised above his head as he yawns. You smile and begin to flee the cozy confines of the blanket, readily moving away from the warmth to stick by Regulus. 

“Do you want some tea?” You ask, keeping a careful watch to make sure he wouldn’t promptly collapse into a weak heap of flesh and bones. Luckily, it seemed that the boy was gradually gaining strength. 

Slowly pulling the door open, you peer out into the bleak twilight illuminating the house and sigh when you see that the others aren’t around. As you make your way to the cupboards, hands deftly flying about to quickly make some tea for the both of you, you feel Regulus wrap his arms around you. 

“Look at us being bloody domestic.” He murmurs, knocking his head gently against yours. 

You feel the blood rushing through your ears as you direct all your energy towards making sure you don’t accidentally break anything, too overwhelmed by the affection. 

You clear your throat as you put the kettle on the stove, leaning back against the boy, “Not that I hate it, actually, quite the contrary, but I didn’t peg you as an affectionate person.” 

Regulus draws patterns on your arms as he muses, “Hm, ‘m usually not. Just for you, I suppose.” 

You were sure you were about to go into cardiac arrest, one hand flying up to make sure your heart wasn’t attempting to fly out of your chest. You turn around to face the boy, eyes wide with uncertainty, “Just me?” 

The boy looks back at you with an assured gaze, smiling dopily at you, “Yes, just you, birdie.” You mirror his smile and nod slowly, still unsure of what to say. 

Before either of you can escalate the situation further, the loud whistling of the kettle rings through the air, its shrill screeching causing you to flinch back. You muffle a laugh behind your hand and watch as Regulus blinks in disorientation for a moment, shooting a look of mock irritation at the steel instrument. 

“No, please continue,” a brassy voice rings out from behind you both. You peer around Regulus to see Asger giving you a stare laden with impassiveness. Smiling impishly at the unimpressed man, you simply avert your gaze to the kettle next to you before glancing back at him, “Tea?” 

As the breezy coat of nightfall loomed in the skies, you all decided to head out for a small trek to a pier nearby. Luna skips ahead of you and Regulus, leading your small group, as she scurries around to look for unique stones. Anders and Asger were trailing the three of you, both men walking in a comfortable silence. 

A crisp wave of wind soars through the air, dotting your nose with coolness. Regulus has his arm looped with yours, eyes drinking up the sight of the environment around you, shining in disbelief and awe. 

A flicker of sadness lingers in your heart as you ponder about how muddled everything must have seemed to him when he was a portrait, time gelling together into indistinguishability. You weren’t sure which fate was worse: becoming an inferi or being stuck as a portrait. 

The echoing of your footsteps on the wooden dock sound through the night with a woody hollowness, eyes trailing up the pier and towards the inky pool of water around you all. You feel Regulus tense beside you, and you stop in your tracks to study him. 

His eyes are glassy and unfocused as he stares into the darkness of the water, body rigid as an internal turmoil seems to paralyze him. You want to smack yourself over the head with a bludger — Regulus was uncomfortable with the murky surroundings because it was reminiscent of his demise. 

Tugging at his arm, you slowly guide him away from the dock, shaking your head when Anders glances at your retreating forms. Regulus slowly floats back down to you, eyes no longer as dim. 

“I’m sorry. I totally forgot.” You mutter, hands reaching over to comfort him. The boy looks devastatingly vulnerable in his state, an anxious frown creeping up on his face. He had always been so strong for you, it was easy to forget that he wasn’t insusceptible.

He shakes his head and subconsciously leans towards you, arms slowly lifting up to wrap around your frame, “No, I didn’t even realize myself.” His voice is faint, seeming to be tucked away behind his brief panic. 

“Do you think you’re okay to travel, Reg?” You whisper, hands crawling up his shoulders to brush against his neck. The boy looks at you in confusion, but nods firmly. 

Sighing, your hands rest on either side of his face, thumbs swiping against his cheeks, “When I went back to the cave with Anders to retrieve you, we accidentally encountered Voldemort.” 

Regulus’ words nearly jumble together at the news and his mouth drops open, “You bumped into the Dark Lord?”

Grimacing at the wording, you shake your head, “Only briefly. He could only see me, but I’m apprehensive to stay here long. I don’t want to endanger the Fiskes.” 

“Where will we go?” He mumbles with furrowed eyebrows. 

You bite the inside of your cheek and divert your attention to the stars causing Regulus’ eyes to flicker around your face, “Birdie, what does that look mean?” 

Hesitating for a few moments, you consider all of your options before speaking. 

“Reg, maybe you’d be safer here,” you reluctantly voice, “I mean, where I’m thinking…it’s too hampered by uncertainties.” You frown, eyes meeting his gaze to try and implore him to see your reasoning. It was not an outlandish assumption in your eyes, as bringing him with you would mean answering inexorable questions and integrating him back into society amidst a full blown war. 

Regulus recoils as if you’ve slapped him, eyes wide with shock that rapidly bleeds into outrage, “You don’t actually think I’m letting you run off alone, right?” His voice is taut, bordering coldness, and you shakily exhale as your mind races. 

“You’re still recovering, Reg. Your magical core is still-” You begin to sputter, but Regulus shakes his head, and it has your words flushing away in a sweep of uncertainty. 

He shifts impossibly closer to you, eyes softening as he rubs your back, “I know that you’re concerned, birdie, but I want to be with you. I’m sorry that I got snippy with you right now, but this isn’t negotiable.” He frowns and leans over to nudge his nose against yours, “I’ll follow you to the ends of the world—wherever your heart desires, but I’m not leaving you to your lonesome when the Dark Lord is on your tail.” 

“If you come with me, it won’t be easy.” You breathe out. 

He smiles and tilts his head to the side, “All the more reason to follow you, then.” 

You assess him for a few moments before nodding, rolling your eyes playfully at the satisfied glint in his eyes, “Stubborn one, aren’t you?” 

Regulus hugs you to his body and muses, “Well, someone needs to keep your self-preservation in check.” 

As the stars slip away from the canvas of the sky to give room to the rising sun, you all gather inside the house, surrounding the dining table. You had to practically mandhandle Regulus into your usual seat as there weren’t enough chairs, but the boy only gave in once you compromised to share the seat with him. 

Luna periodically flashes the both of you grins, eyes shooting off through you as she tangles with visions of the future. Anders leans back in his chair to stare at Regulus, seeming to appraise his worthiness. Asger simply sips his tea and awaits for the conversation to ensue, humored eyes peering at you all over the rim of his cup. 

“Anders, I think that we should leave now,” you pause to clear your throat, “I don’t want to intrude and I hate the thought that I’m endangering you both, now that Voldemort is on my trail.” You word-vomit, hands fidgeting anxiously in your lap. 

Subtlety was not your forte. 

Regulus brings a steady hand to rest on your jittery ones as Anders grunts, “I understand, kid. You do know that we don’t mind though, right?” He raises an eyebrow at you when you don’t respond, “But I get it.” 

You breathe out in relief and straighten up in your seat, “Thank you, Anders, truly. This whole experience has been life changing to say the least, and I think I’m going to miss you both, honestly.” 

Both men meet your eyes steadily, and Asger breaks out into a small grin before placing his cup down, “I think we’ll miss you guys more, right Dad?” He turns to the older man, who merely grunts and looks away, but you would bet galleons that you saw a smile flash across his face. 

Anders slowly pushes himself up and walks off into his room, emerging moments later with a satisfied expression, “Here, kid.” You slowly rise up in confusion as Anders extends a stack of clipped papers towards you. 

“What?” 

The older man shakes his head and drops back down into his seat, “You didn’t think I’d actually publish someone else’s research, did you?” 

You hug the papers to your chest and gape at the man, “But, a lot of this is your research now. Besides, why would you…” You trail off, still boggled by a storm of perplexion. 

Anders waves you off and rubs his knee, “It's our research, kid. Anyway, I never intended to write it for myself in the first place, I’m much too old to get caught up in the academic world again.” He looks up at you with a proud sheen in his eyes, “Besides, you did most of the rune work and connection of theories. You better make something of yourself, yeah?” 

You are rendered speechless at the blatant display of care from him, and you find yourself wrapping the older man up in a hug before you can stop yourself. The man pats your back as you whisper hushed words of gratitude. 

You were practically holding your future in your hands. 

As the sun breaks over the veil of morning twilight, dispersing the ground of its mist and biting chill, you all stand at the edge of the village. It is bitterly nostalgic for you, mind flashing back to all those months ago when you stumbled upon Asger during the peak of night. 

Regulus stands back, now sporting one of Asger’s oversized corduroy jackets (a deep green, in slytherin fashion, and he looked offensively good in it). He watches as you and Luna say your final farewells to the father and son duo. Luna and Asger chat idly, with the older man patting the girl’s head fondly, smiling when she passes over a large blue stone to him. 

Turning away from the pair, you smile sadly at Anders, the older man already facing you with a calm expression, “Stay safe, kid. Tom won’t know what hit him.” 

You flash an assenting smile at him before stepping forward to give him one last hug. Closing your eyes, you are rendered inarticulate with poignance, “I’m gonna miss you, old man.” 

He pulls back and pats your shoulder reassuringly, “We’ll be alright, I think it’s time little old me did some soul searching.” 

Frowning in confusion, you lean back to ask, “How do you mean?” 

“Reine has treated us well all these years, but Asger and I were thinking of a change in scenery.” The man avows calmly. 

You step back and clutch the research papers tightly in your hands, “We’ll see each other again, right?” 

Asger swoops in and swings an arm over his father’s shoulders just as Luna bounces over to your side, hand clasping yours. The younger man grins at you brightly and inclines his head, “Who knows? We’ll be okay though,” he raises his head and his eyes grow serious, “but we want to thank you. You’ve given us a lot to think about, and I think it's time we celebrated my mother’s life instead of stewing in static.” 

You nod, mouth betraying just how sentimental you felt as it tugged into a frown, “Go well, both of you.” 

Anders cracks a small smile and they both wave you off. 

“Give him hell, kiddo.” 

“Take care of yourselves.” 

Wordlessly, you spin on your heel and walk towards Regulus with Luna in tow, the boy reaching towards you as you approach. In a blur, you’re interlacing your fingers with his and apparating away, the warping taking your mind away from any lingering sadness. 

As you touch down on smooth pavement, you feel Regulus shift closer to you, swaying ever so slightly on his feet. After steadying the boy, you turn to take in the sight in front of you — Zabini Manor. White pergolas embellished with thick grape vines curtaining the structure were erected serenely on the clipped lawn. Further back, winding balustrades, highlighted by Italian terracotta pots housing enormous clusters of begonias seemed to welcome you. 

The regal property towered over your figures, so much so that you all almost ignored the faint popping sound that echoed from next to you in favor of drinking up the sight. 

“Fiore be taking the Contessa’s guests to the parlor room.” 

You swivel around and face the house elf, nodding mutely as you’re all led inside. Regulus’ decorum is impeccable, years of etiquette lessons and pure blood preaching seeming to still be instilled in every joint of his body. Luna digs inside of her satchel all the way there and you hear vague clacking and shuffling from the bag. 

As the heavy wooden doors swing shut behind you, you feel your neck prickle with goosebumps as you release your magic, seeking out any familiar signatures. Your movements border robotic as you beeline to sit on one of the ottomans in the parlor, spacing out as you peer through the window and see rows of hydrangea bushes.  

It was time to face reality.

Regulus slowly traces shapes on the back of your hand as he glances around, no doubt comparing the furnishing to the dismal designs lining Grimmauld Place. 

“The brevity of peace is palpable these days, dear.” The euphonious voice breaches the threshold of the room before anything else, and you’re quick to school your face as the Contessa struts into the room, tobacco pipe clasped in one hand. 

You stand up and smile diminutively at the woman, “Contessa Zabini. Apologies for the intrusion.”

She sends you a sharp grin before taking her place on an ornate armchair, “No need for the pleasantries, my dear. I must say that you are rather better company than those friends of yours.” She takes a quick hit of her pipe, crossing one leg over the other. 

Masking your shock, you smile genuinely and shake your head, “I’m touched, Contessa. Which reminds me, I have failed to properly correspond with Blaise these past few months. I don’t suppose he’s tried to cajole those friends of mine for information?” 

The woman exhales a cloud of smoke and hums, “Ah yes, Blaise was quite disappointed from what I hear, but of course we both understood your precarious position.” 

“I’ll have to write to him soon, then. I assume that everything is well here?” You begin to fiddle with the corner of the papers in your lap, back aching minutely from your prim posture. 

The Contessa brings a hand to rest on her raised knee, eyes momentarily flickering towards Regulus as she smiles, “Quiet and uneventful, my dear. Now,” she tilts her head to gauge the sight in front of her, “I see that you’ve found a friend.” 

You could see the cogs whirring behind her eyes, mouth set into a thin line as something akin to familiarity seeps through the cracks of her expression. Nodding, you peer at the boy from the corner of your eye to observe his expression before replying, “Yes, he’s actually what I was referring to when I mentioned my personal interests.” 

The woman, to her credit, masks her brimming curiosity well, eyebrows raising as she mutely encourages you to continue. Regulus clears his throat quietly, “It’s a pleasure to make your company, Contessa Zabini.” 

The Contessa smiles pointedly at the boy and hums, “Well mannered…how interesting. The pleasure is all mine.” She places her pipe down on the round table next to her, eyes never straying from Regulus’ expressionless face, “Forgive me, but you look quite familiar, have we met before?” 

Regulus raises his eyebrows in show, “I do not believe so, I’ve been in recuperation for a number of years now.”

She doesn’t seem entirely convinced but turns back to you with a delighted smirk as she continues to address the boy next to you, “I see. I do hope to get your name then as it intrigues me that you have the ability to convert someone—who the public thought to be a staunch Dumbledore supporter, into a neutral ally.” 

Before either of you can respond, the doors practically burst off their hinges as they swing open. The thundering sound has you wincing from your spot, eyes immediately flying towards the source of the intrusion. Your mouth peels open at the sight of your friends and a very enthusiastic Sirius. 

Harry immediately beams as he catches sight of you, but his eyes grow as wide as saucers when he takes notice of the boy next to you. Hermione looks exhausted by the commotion around her, no doubt having mentally aged a significant amount in the time of her babysitting duties while you were away. Ron blinks owlishly at you, and waves hesitantly, posture shifty as he averts his gaze to assess the undisguised glower on the Contessa’s face. 

Luna jumps up from her seat and scurries over to greet the trio, her smile immediately drawing Harry’s attention away from you both. 

Sirius chuckles loudly as he stalks towards you, arms splayed wide open as he goes to hug you, “Pup, you’re finally here!” You quickly hug the older man back, bewildered by his ability to immediately get tunnel vision. 

As he draws back from you, your taciturn demeanor only heightens as you watch shock bloom across his face. The man springs back from you in a flash, eyes bulging out as he stammers for words at the sight of Regulus. The boy next to you gazes at his brother with regretful eyes, shoulders now sagging under the weight of the older man’s presence. 

The fraught silence is interrupted by a disbelieving whisper from Sirius, “Regulus?”  

“It’s good to see you, Siri.” 

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Hard day | Remus Lupin x gn!reader

SWF

Summary: Your boyfriend Remus, has had a long day. You need to tell him what he means to you.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship, so lovey dovey, no mentions of pronouns, nicknames (love, dove), tw for mentions of self-injury and scars, a bit of angst, happy ending, kissing.

Word count: 700

Remus Lupin was not a loud man, definitely not, the exact opposite in fact -soft-spoken, patient, kind-hearted, lovely. Most importantly he was yours, all yours to share with no one…most of the time.

Remus Lupin was not a loud man, so when he slammed to your shared flat you splashed a little tea onto the tiled floor of the kitchen, letting out a yelp of surprise.

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Hi Hi, i love your writing so much...its so good and makes me feel fluffy inside🥺

So recently I've been having a big thing on Diluc being a dad of a red head daughter (it could be the reader) so could i wanna request a little story with how he'd be with a daughter from baby to about 4 years old? It can be headcannons or whatever you are comfy with...just really fluffy and cute u know?

Thanks in advance♥

I hope you don’t mind if the daughter is a baby here <3

She looks just like me...

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Diluc was aware that his daughter had red hair, she was born that way. She screamed her little head off, waving her small arms in the air as her mother held her for the first time. Diluc remembers leaning over her shoulder to look down at his newborn baby girl, unable to hold back his tears of joy any longer when he noticed the red fuzz on her head.

Ragnvindr genes are strong. Diluc, his father, his grandfather and so on all have red hair, it’s just the way their gene pool works. Their genes overpower everyone else’s, it doesn’t matter if the mother is blonde, blue haired, black haired, their babies always have red hair. It doesn’t matter, Diluc was still shocked to see his beautiful baby with such bright hair right after being born.

For the first two weeks after her birth, Diluc tended to keep his distance. He feared that the baby would hate him. He smelled like fire and smoke, his hands were sweaty and his hair was always frizzy. The last thing he wanted was to give his daughter a bad first impression of him.

But now, months later, he’s gotten used to her and she’s come to love him too. Of course, she still prefers her mother over him but she won’t burst into tears when he picks her up.

Now he’s alone with the baby for the afternoon while his darling wife is out with friends. She deserves to get out of the house! Diluc is more than happy to watch the baby for the day. He has the maids do the laundry, wash the sheets and start on dinner so by the time she gets back, everything will be perfect.

Diluc is snapped out of his train of thought as a chubby hand rests itself on his face. He smiles and presses a kiss to his daughters cheek, laughing as she giggles. He looks at her with love and adoration. She has her mother’s eyes and his head of frizzy, red hair. There are a couple of paintings of Diluc as a baby though they’re stored away now to make from for paintings of his family. He can’t believe how much she looks like him

“You’re going to grow up to be a strong young woman, I know it” he tells her, bouncing her up and down in his arms, turning to block the sunlight from her face “You’ll probably grow taller than your mother too...Then what will we do with you?” Diluc huffs a laugh, earning another giggle from the baby

“My father always said that to me, you know. ‘Son, one day you’ll outgrow your mother. Then what are we going to do?’ Heh...yeah, he would say that all the time. If he had been around a bit longer, he would have gotten to see me outgrow him too” talking about his father stung...But when he got to talk about the good times he had with him, it wasn’t the worst thing in the world

“Your grandpa would have loved you...He would have had fifty of paintings commissioned, tons of little dresses made for you, more than you’d ever be able to wear before outgrowing them” he ran his fingers through her fine, red hair. Her little hand came up to grasp his finger, pulling his hand down to try to bite his hand “Hey- no no don’t do that”

Diluc shifted her in his arms, crossing the room to head down the grand staircase and out to the vineyard. After a bit of walking, he found a nice spot in the grass for the two of them to sit together where they could watch the water

“I got to grow up here...I ran around here through the grape vines, I splashed in this river with my brother. I hope I can give you the best life I can...I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you are safe and loved” Of course his daughter doesn’t understand, she grins up at him and waves her little hands around. She’s so full of innocent joy. She loves the grass, the maids, the birds, the rain. Diluc will do everything he can to protect her, to let her have a joyful childhood.

Soon he will retire from his duties as the Dark Knight Hero. He’ll put away his claymore and become the businessman he was always destined to be. He’ll run the winery and the Angel’s Share without any funny business, no more hunting the Fatui or Abyss mages. He has a family now, he can’t afford to be reckless with his life anymore. He has to be here for all of these little milestones in his daughters life, to see her grow into a brilliant young woman

“I love you, sweetheart. I’ll always be here for you” he promises, smiling down at her again. The touching moment is quickly ruined as she tries to eat a beetle from the grass “No! Give me that!”