See-the-divine - This Is Me Trying - Tumblr Blog

I saw someone on tiktok say “cunt vronsky” and that’s all that I think about now

HAHAHHA that’s so real because he IS serving cunt every minute of screen time he has

like pls!

Name one thing worse than looking up angst and only smut popping up

i fear i cried during agatha all along last night when lornas version was playing and the "if i cant reach u let my song teach u" part played because it was like this mother who would do anything for her daughter and i was raised by a single mother and i just felt how alice felt and especially how she must've after resenting her for so long. holy crap im never ever getting over it

this had to be shared

the 5 times you did (not) love each other and the 1 time you did.

summary. as the title suggests. this one was a request! i hope you enjoyed my version of this anon.

pairing/s. poly!marauders + lily / reader.

wc. 4.1k

tags. hurt/comfort, angst, peter pettigrew mention, not proofread, like seriously, fluff, happy ending.

cws: brief mention of violence and blood.

note: i am alive?? crazy. i began this fic, whilst sick, around august, nursing the worst headache ever. i wrote the middle of this fic, sick. and i think it's only fitting that i finished this fic. sick... honestly, i did not proofread any of this, i just know i lowkey love it. after the first one-thousand words, i just spiral and become delirious, so i don't even know what happened here. my first request finished! yippee! and thank you all for 2k :< i love you all so much.

i. 

SIRIUS BLACK did not love you—not even close, not even a little bit. Not even at all.

After Peter Pettigrew’s slight against his family, Sirius would never hold warmth or pity for the skittish mouse ever again. He was played for a fool. And, he did not know which betrayal had hurt more. Peter’s—or yours. (Had you known all along of your adoptive brother’s plans? Did you not think for one second that Sirius would, without a sliver of hesitation, put himself in the way of a killing curse to keep you safe? He’d have died before ever letting the fire in your eyes wither to ashes. Clearly, you did not share the same sentiment.) 

He wanted nothing to do with you. Ever. And if the rat-bastard dared to show his face, not even Death would know where to put Peter’s body to rest. Sirius would keep him alive until he begged for death—until the idea of living frightened him more than dying. And for you—beholder of his heart, captor of his soul, and co-possessor of his mind—he could only hope that you stayed far away. You had wrecked him—all of them. 

He wanted—

He did not know what he wanted. 

For when it came to you, Sirius Black was reduced to a man wandering the deserts—mistaking clouds for water, and the sands for grass blades. You had ravaged every fiber of his being; consumed his every thought and word. The most ironic part of all was that if you had been the one standing there—Sirius would have let you Avada him. Dumbledore could scold him in the afterlife—Sirius could care less. He’d have snapped his wand in half and asked someone else to fight you because Sirius had vowed from the moment he met you that he would never harm a hair on your head. He would never be the reason that tears stained your pretty cheeks. 

Well, apparently, trust and promises were not worth a damn thing nowadays. 

No, he did not love you—even as you stood on the steps of Grimmauld, your hair ruined by the downpour of rain. Your lips bruised and bitten from a nervous habit Sirius had yet to break out of you. 

“I didn’t know, Sirius,” you whispered—your voice the only sound falling on his ears amidst all the thunder and lightning. He only saw you. “Y-You have to believe me. If I knew—Gods, I would have told Dumbledore in a heartbeat. Fuck. I thought you knew me better than that.” 

He thought so, too. 

“Did you know?” Sirius began, taking a step forward and into the storm, a demeaning sneer on his lips. “That when Voldemort stood in our home, your portrait was right behind him? That was all I could look at. If I had died—you would have been the last thing I saw.” 

You had not replied. 

Sirius grit his teeth. “Go,” he said, voice hoarse. 

“Go!” he yelled, grateful for the rain as it masked his own tears as you flinched from the sound of his voice. Not the thunderclap, the lightning strike—but it was him who scared you. 

(But you had done so first.) 

When you apparated away, Sirius crumbled to the ground and pounded his fists against the asphalts where you were moments ago, screaming and cursing until he saw blood flowing with the rainwater.

It was laughable, really. The way he did not love you. 

It was not love that drove him to madness, pummeling Gideon Prewett into a bloody pulp for mentioning your name during a meeting with the Order. He had presumed you to be a Death Eater alongside your brother—Sirius instantly saw nothing but red. (He condemned Bellatrix, his own cousin, for becoming a madwoman. Yet, here he was, unraveled by the very thought of you. The very whisper of your name.) 

But whatever it was that had turned him into a fool and a hypocrite all at once, it was not love. 

ii. 

JAMES POTTER had no love for you—make no mistake about that. He loved love, and he did so fiercely and truthfully. But you and Peter had broken his trust—defiled his loyalty from the moment your brother had brought Voldemort to his doorstep. (Did you know that as he begged and screamed for Lily to hide with their son, Harry—he thought of you? For a fleeting moment, he saw your face, marked by fear and tear-rimmed eyes. And James knew straight away that he would spit on Tom Riddle’s bare feet if only to keep his family safe. If only to see you once more. Alive and well. But, you must not have thought the same—if you had conspired with Peter to sell him and Lily out to the Devil reborn.) 

The thought of you breathing was enough to keep James alive. 

But, that was not love. It was a mockery of it. 

No, he did not feel so much as a twinge of emotion for you. Not even as Mad-Eye Moody brought your limp body back to Grimmauld. It was not love that threatened the magic in his being—that simmered in his blood until the painted walls saw an indent of his fist. (“Poor thing,” McGonagall cooed as she pressed her palm over your forehead. Despite some of the members’ growing distrust for you, you still took an Unforgivable in their stead. “We can only wait. . . Four Cruciatus curses. . .”) 

What more did James need to want to rip Peter apart limb by limb? 

It was not love that rooted his feet by your side. Sitting hunched on a chair too small for his height, bags beneath his eyes, and the pale of his lips becoming noticeable to everyone who spoke to him. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to you lovelessly—hands desperately clutching your own. Sirius stood across the room, arms crossed over his chest, dagger-like eyes waiting for so much as a twitch of your finger. “I’m sorry.”

It was a plea this time.

He only hoped you did not ask him to love you. For James could give you the world, hand-pick the stars, and burrow his body deep beneath the ground if you had asked for it—but he could not love you. 

Everyone had told him not to hope that you would wake up. That your pretty eyes would not flutter open, and you would no longer look at him as you had before. But James was stubborn. He was selfish as he was stubborn. He did not love you—but he needed to hear the sound of your voice. And James would take it any way that he could. The soft cadence of a whisper, or a rough utterance of a single word. Molly Weasley told him to accept reality for what it was. (“You need sleep, dear,” the matriarch fussed. “There’s nothing we can do. Look at the Longbottoms. . . We can do no more for this one as we had done for them.”) 

In the still of the night, he left his reveries on the cold of your skin. “Wake up,” he demanded. 

“Wake up or else you’re the traitor everyone thinks you are,” James hissed. 

But his words held no heat—and his heart held no love for you. 

Make no mistake about that.

Then, when you finally woke up, disoriented and throat parched—a hazy recollection of the weeks before—James made sure that no more than four people could enter the room. He did not care if a hurricane, or if Voldemort himself—James had faced him once already, after all—threatened to break the door down. You were theirs to protect.

 (But not to love.) 

“We need to begin the questioning, James, you know that,” said Kingsley Shacklebolt, almost exasperatedly; weary lines written across his face. James would not allow even a toe beyond the doorway. An interrogation meant you had something to do with the attempted murder of James and his family. Whether or not you were innocent, James did not care—he just wanted you safe. 

(And a small part of him already knew that you were not your brother’s keeper. Just as they had absolved Sirius of his family’s sins. It would be unfair to not show you the same grace. But before his mind knew that, James’s heart and soul had known the truth all along.) 

He found Sirius gently tending to your every need, and already James knew that was Padfoot’s way of begging for forgiveness. The ebony-haired man hung onto your every word. He winced when you flinched, and pressed his apologies to your forehead, rasping for a kindness he did not deserve. Not after what he did. How he turned you away and cursed your name. How they betrayed you. 

James did not love you. 

But what else could he call the manacles that bound his hands and forced him to his knees when it came to you? 

Not. Love. 

iii. 

REMUS LUPIN could not bring himself to love you. But, he could not love Sirius, Lily, and James either. He was undeserving of such a privilege. But he was not allowed to love you; Remus could only hope that you saw even a shred of worth in him—to wrest each word from his lips and every breath from his lungs. But, he did not love you. No. 

Because loving you meant he was to tell you of your brother’s crimes. And Remus could not hurt you like that. 

“P-Peter?” you had asked, wearing the eyes of a fretful sibling. Remus lifted his hand to tuck a strand of hair gone astray behind your ear. Bellatrix had done a number on you—just as she had done to Alice and Frank. Remus was fairly certain that Sirius was off on a hunt for his cousin, his mind toyed with by the barbarity of war. What they could not do for the Longbottoms, they’d wring themselves dry to do for you. After the Lestranges’ attack, you suffered damage to your throat and memories. Remus could not bear to see you in such pain. 

He could not give you love, but Remus would offer up to you his every limb, and the weary skin upon his bones. 

“They. . .” Remus grimaced. How could he act as the bearer of bad news? He’d rather dive headfirst into shark-infested waters. Be anywhere else but here. In fact, Remus would rather snatch you away from the funereal walls, and hold you in his arms in the quietude of dawn, than be the one to bring anguish to your eyes. “They’re looking for him at the moment, love.” 

One question lingered in your eyes: Why? 

Luckily, Sirius was always the better one at sharpening a blunt knife. “He was a traitor,” he spat like acid. “A traitor to the Order. A traitor to us. He’s no friend of ours. Not anymore.” 

But Sirius knew—better than anyone else—how difficult it can be to truly hate little brothers, especially once they’ve gone. 

“No. . .” You trembled, almost retching as you sobbed into your palms. 

Remus held you then, the front of his shirt soaked in your tears, eyes firmly shut as you trembled and heaved in his arms. The sound of your guttural screams bounced off the four walls, and Remus had to bury his nose in your hair. You were alive. Safe. Breathing. But you felt cold as ice; an empty husk stripped bare for grief to take over. And Remus could do nothing but hold you. (He just hoped that wherever Peter Pettigrew was, Remus would not be the first one to find him. Otherwise, they would not be able to recover even a fingernail from his remains.)

“Hush, love,” Remus whispered into your ear as you cried yourself sick. Mourning the loss of your brother, reeling from the betrayal of a bond that was supposed to be stronger than blood. Remus would make him pay, he vowed as much to you. No, Remus and the wolf in him did not know how to love. But he knew how to hurt. And, that, he’d gladly do for you. His body was for you to use as a shield, his soul for you to strip bare, and his heart for you to thieve and never return. 

“Don’t cry,” said James, a shadow cast over his frames. “Not for Peter. Never. Fucking bastard will get what’s coming to him.” He laid on the vacant space of the bed, gently untangling your hands that were pressed over your heart. “I’ll make sure of it.”

They all would.

But not because they loved you. 

It was not out of love, Remus had to remind himself in the coming days, when he stayed diligently by your side as you recovered. Daily sessions with the best healer St. Mungo’s could offer—as if James would allow anything else. There were days your eyes would glaze over, your words rough and sluggish, and Remus would try his damndest to make you smile. 

It was the least he could do. 

For failing to protect you. 

But that was not love. 

(It was hope. Wretched, disastrous hope as he fell to his knees, and your name in between his teeth.)

iv. 

LILY EVANS was a fighter in all the ways that mattered. 

And from the very first moment she held Harry in her arms, eyes raking over his wrinkly, bloodied skin; all ten fingers and toes, her soft cries over his loud screaming—Lily knew she would trade her life for his in a heartbeat. Little, lovely eyes that would soon see the world in his own time. Lily adored him. Cherished every tear, snore, and giggle. She knew then, that a mother’s love was entirely different from any emotion she’d ever felt before. 

This was proven the first time Harry had gotten seriously ill. A few weeks after the attempted murder on the Potters, Harry was ceaselessly crying—screaming, even, every night—red-faced as he fussed every breakfast and dinner. Lily found herself at wit’s end. Her protectiveness had gone up a hundred measures; wouldn’t let anyone besides family or Madam Pomfrey see Harry. Yet, even with all the draughts and silly-flavoured syrups, Harry wasn’t getting better. 

“Lily dear, you cannot actually be thinking about this,” worried Molly Weasley as Lily stood in front of your door, holed away in the room where you had been recovering for the last few days. It would be the first time she saw you since the incident. More than anything she was afraid. Frightened that you would look at her differently. Whether or not that fear stemmed from love, Lily was not concerned. “We can call for another Healer from Mungo’s to have a look at Harry. . . Who knows what might. . .” 

Lily held Harry closer to her, lips firmly pressed, attempting to ignore the way his temperature was unnaturally high. “Might what, Mrs. Weasley?” She knew Molly was only talking out of concern, from a mother’s perspective at least. But she knew you better than anyone else. You would never hurt her, or Harry, that much she was certain of. And if you were the traitor everyone else was afraid of accusing you of, a sentence delivered by association to Peter—then let the guillotine fall, Lily would carry your crimes for you. 

She remembered ever-so clearly in her sixth-year, you with dreams glistening in your eyes. (“I’m going to be a Healer, Lils! Minnie said I’d be a great one. . . I want to protect those I love. . . I know I can do it. . . Oh, I can’t wait to tell Peter that I’ve gotten recommendations already to work at Mungo’s after graduation.”) 

And Lily recalled at that moment, she had felt a different kind of emotion that she had never experienced before. It was not love, of course. Tuney said she was too young and too stupid to know what real love was. But, at sixteen, what else could describe the way her heart fluttered and the way her lips threatened to break out into a smile whenever you lit up talking about your future? (It was just a crush, young Lily told herself.)

Only to be crushed and cast aside in the face of the war, where fighters took their place at the forefront of the lines, mothers and children hid; healers stretching themselves thin to be here, there, everywhere; where traitors walked in plain sight. 

“There is no one else I trust more with my life,” replied Lily. 

And that was that. 

Lily skirted around Molly and opened the door to your room, where Sirius, James, and Remus all stood at attention at the sight of her and Harry. She ignored them, and headed straight to your side. 

“Hello, love,” she greeted with all the gentleness she was made of, a smile creeping up to her eyes as Lily watched you turn your head at the sound of her voice. Truth be told, she did not know what her end-goal was in coming here. But being by your side had always made life a little more bearable, like all the illnesses in the world could not bring her down. And so, her magic had instinctively summoned her person to you. She, at least, was relieved to see colour returning to your cheeks, though the red in your eyes had dulled the hues she adored so much. 

“Is that. . .?” you croaked. 

Lily nodded. “Harry, meet—” 

One of the loves of my life, the most loyal and pure witch anyone ever has the privilege of meeting, someone I want to stay in my life forever. 

Lily’s smile wilted. “A friend.” 

Later, she would place Harry in your arms—her little hope embraced by her dream—and Lily would wonder if it was by pure magic that Harry calmed in your presence. 

For if love could hurt and destroy, could it mend and heal the broken as well?

But what a shame, for not one in that room carried an ounce of love for you.

(She would die for Harry, yes—but she would live for you.)

v. 

YOU did not love them, either. 

The very idea, thought—insinuation—was absurd. (Why, they deserved much better than you, after all.) With hands that failed to protect them, were you even allowed to hold them anymore? Did your heart have the right to breathe for them? You had failed as a sister and a friend—how much more would you have failed as their lover? Well, you’d never know. 

Because you did not love them. 

Merely wished them happiness and for the world to extend them kindness. For the sun to look brightly down on them, and for time to heal their scars and wounds. For if they were in pain, the earth would stop spinning. But such a request was not borne from love. 

Surely not. 

Because, then, that would have meant that it was love that teared you apart when Sirius cursed your name, when James turned you away, when Remus could not look you in the eyes, or when Lily—for all your history together—called you a friend. 

The whole of you was made by the parts of them. Each memory welded into the crevices of your soul. From the moment you had all found each other in the same train compartment, same common room—there was a shift in the fates that bound all five of you together. (The ties were red, but the thread was not of love.) You did not believe in Professor Trelawney’s talks of providence and destiny. 

Because if you did, then why was the universe so cruel? 

Falling—not in love—for four people who could very much do without you in their lives. Lacking severely as a sister to the point you had not noticed your brother fading and fading away into the shadows. 

Was love that unkind? That merciless? 

Then, you did not want to love at all. 

Oh, but magic or not, every creature on this earth selfish. 

You were no different. 

You wanted. 

Oh, how you yearned. 

“I LOVE YOU.” 

You barely had enough time to react before Sirius pressed his lips to the side of your head, arm covertly sneaking around your waist. The sound of the train whistling as parents yelled their goodbyes filled the station. You stood in the midst of the crowd, eyes never leaving one window in particular as you waved at Harry, now eleven-years-old and now off to Hogwarts. 

“Quite a random thing to say, husband,” you murmured, leaning into his warmth. “What for?” 

“Just because,” he replied in turn with a fiendish grin. “Well, perhaps for choosing us, for choosing me despite all my fuck-ups. For existing. For being the beautiful, wonderful, kind, precious you. I could keep on going, my darling. Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” 

You wrinkled your nose, eyes rolling from fondness. “I love you too, quite unfortunately.” 

He only laughed and pulled you closer to him. “Let’s go home.” 

–

“I love you.” 

In the house built by new memories, warded by stronger protection charms, and filled with warmth and love—James said this to you each morning before he left for the Ministry, promoted after the war as Head of Magical Law Enforcement. Not one foot out of the door until he had showered you in kisses and the symphonies of his heart. James had always been loud, even in his time at Hogwarts. The war had not taken this part of him, and you figured James was too loud to let it be taken from him. He was unapologetically and unabashedly him. 

And you had loved him fiercely for that. 

“I’ll be home early tonight,” he said, a quiet intimacy washing over the both of you. The early birds of the cottage. “Wait for me?”

“Of course,” you answered without an ounce of hesitation, delicately chasing after his lips. “I love you. Be safe.” 

-

“I love you.” 

“Are you saying that to me or are you reading from the book?” you teased from where you laid on Remus’s chest, hours after James left for work, the afternoon bringing you two together in the living room. Lily was in the gardens, and Sirius was in the shed working on his motorbike. It was perfect. You felt the rise and fall of Remus’s chest beneath you, his heartbeat close to your ear. He was perfect. It was a miracle you had not fallen asleep to the tender lull of his voice. 

“Both,” he responded, hand coming up to trace the bare of your skin—a miracle you did not crumble or burn instantly from his touch. 

You hummed. “Then, I love you, too.” Then, you grinned, lifting your head to stare up at him. “You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you.” 

And, oh, how photographs could not capture the beauty in Remus’s smile as his eyes regarded you with such fire.

“My heart, my light, my desire,” Remus began, one finger ever-so softly tracing the curve of your cheek. “In vain I have struggled, it will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.” 

–

“I love you.” 

Said Lily as she lied in your shared bed, red-nosed and her cheeks pale, sluggish. The Christmas holiday was generous enough to gift her with an unfortunate cold that had been going around the wizarding world. “But, please, go,” she commanded weakly, gesturing for you to join Harry who was stood by the door. “It’s a lovely day outside for making snowmen with carrots as noses and snow angels. Not for taking care of poor old me.” 

You rolled your eyes as you sat by her side, swiftly pressing a kiss to her forehead. “And I love you, which is why I would rather much be here, taking care of the prettiest snow angel to ever exist,” you countered, bringing a spoonful of broth to her lips. “Besides, Harry here has something to tell you. He’s made friends at school. One of them is Molly’s little one.” 

“Oh, you did?” Lily cooed, before sniffling weakly. “That’s lovely, darling. Tell me all about them.” 

“That’s not all, Lily mine,” you began mischievously as Harry’s eyes narrowed at you through his glasses. “This friendship apparently formed after fighting a troll.” 

“You what?” Lily croaked, emerald eyes shimmering with concern and near-dread. 

“Did you really, Harry?” James popped his head in the doorway, clapping his son on the shoulder before ushering him inside the room. A spitting image side-by-side as they took the empty space by the foot of the bed. “Good boy. Father approves.” 

“Of course you would,” Lily shot at him weakly, melting when Sirius then entered the room and greeted her with a kiss to her cheek. “And where are you all coming from?”

“Outside,” announced Remus, tugging his tie from his neck. “Sirius and I took a quick trip to Diagon Alley to get some things that’ll make you feel better, Lily love.” 

And as the snow fell outside, lazy winds against the window, your little family gathered in one room, there was one thing you knew for certain.

You loved them. 

And they loved you. 

a/n: i wrote all 4k words while sick. crazy. but anyway, i wanted to believe in love again so here i am. thank you all so much for being patient with me. i promise to do even better in the next fics!

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 6 K Warnings: none. Prompt: Classes have started, how will the new relationship fare with the upcoming normalcy? This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Not proofread

Chapter 65: Spell Binder

Thursday 13th, 1977

“Please take your seats,” Flitwick said as more and more students started to fill in the room. This time around you sat in your usual place next to Remus. Once most students had taken their spots, he climbed up his small podium and smiled. “Now, we had quite an issue last class, and I completely forgot about your essays. Please leave them on my desk by the end of the class…” 

There was a choir of groans, you turned to Lily with a smile, as you showed her that this time around you had finished the essay and she rolled her eyes as she shook her head and smiled, mouthing something like “cheat” as she looked at you. 

You gave her a pout and mouthed “I saved you ass, you should be thanking me,” back at her. She raised her eyebrows in amusment and you just smiled, covering your face and coughing to mask your barely contained laughter.

“What’s that about?” Remus asked as he leaned closer to you and offered you some water from a metal bottle. 

“Lily hadn’t done her homework, last class,” you explained. “We saved her.” Remus smiled at your words, leaning a little closer to you as he pulled your inkpot to the centre of the table since he’d forgotten his own.

“Professor, I’m afraid I cannot hand in my essay,” said Tom, who was sitting just behind you and Remus. 

“Did you forget it?” 

“No sir, I made it. But the toads ate it as we were leaving the classroom.” 

“The… Toads ate it?”  the professor asked unsure. 

You bit the side of your cheek to avoid laughing and felt Remus nudge you with his elbow and give you a warning look. If you giggled, Flitwick wouldn’t buy it. 

“Mine too,” said Sirius as he sent a quick wink at Tom and pulled out a completely torn piece of paper from under the table. “Couldn’t salvage it at all.” 

“How the fuck…” you mouthed as you looked at his piece of paper. 

“The Toads?” asked Flitwick again. 

“Perhaps it’s the type of Toads?” said Marlene. “They did look quite hungry…” 

That was perhaps the one thing that made actual sense, you thought. If the water spirit had been hungry, and although you’d taken precautions to trap the toads with some food, it made sense that they’d be hungry after being there for so long. 

“Yeah, mine too!” Added someone else from the back. 

“And mine.” 

Flitwick shook his head “All right, all right. Whoever lost their homework due to the toad incident, may bring it to my office tomorrow, you will be graded as if you had handed it in on time. Those who hand it in today will get a bonus point on your overall grade. Sounds fair?” 

“Yes, thank you, professor!” Said Tom with a smile. 

“Thank you,” added Sirius, placing the torn piece of paper back in his bag. 

“Now that that’s out of the picture, let’s talk a little bit of charms. Is there a charm or potion that could have caused the toad incident?” 

“Well, there’s the summoning charm?” Said Michael, the same Hufflepuff whose Fireworm had exploded the day before. 

“Could a summoning charm summon that many toads?” Asked Flitwick.

“Perhaps if they had been clustered together before? With a binding spell of some sort?” proposed Imogen. 

“That could have been it, if the toads had appeared only in one castle and not all over the castle. Unless there was a student summoning toads in each room,” James reasoned.

“Duplication charm?” 

“Or maybe a time-turner?” Said Imogen. 

“Those are way too hard to get,” said Sirius as he shook his head. You threw him a look and he shrugged. Something told you he’d tried. 

“What about a modified Slug-vomiting charm?” Asked Terix –short for Asterix– another Hufflepuff. 

“Did you see anyone vomiting the toads?” asked Michael who was sitting beside him. 

“Well no– but…” 

“I know! Frog-spawn soap!” said Mary.  “Has to be that, right?” 

“But that only works with water,” argued Michael. 

“Well, there was a lot of water,” you said, almost as a throwaway comment. 

“Flooding spell plus frogspawn soap?” Said Remus. “Makes sense.” 

“What about a gemino curse?” asked a Hufflepuff boy whom you’d never heard talk from the back. He was shy and often had either a book or a notebook in his hand. 

“The toads were different,” said Dora (also a Hufflepuff) kindly. “Had it been gemino they would have all been the same.” 

“How do you know they were different?” asked Michael, “They all looked the same to me.” 

“They were definitely different,” insisted the girl. She had bright green hair, which is why some people accused her of being part mermaid. “Some had spots and others didn’t. And they had different hues of green too.” 

“Different hues of green?” Terix inquiered. 

“Plenty of them,” she answered with a nod. 

“Mr. Lupin, what do you think could have happened?” Flitwick asked, cutting the previous line of reasoning. 

“The soap and flooding spell sounds possible,” he said with a shrug. 

“Whatever it might have been,” said James a little loud. “Thank Merlin it happened, we had a fantastic day!” 

“Except for the Fireworms,” said Imogen. 

“Except for the tragic loss of the fireworms,” agreed Prongs solemnly. 

“So that means all we need to do to find the culprit is figure out who bought ridiculous amounts of Frog Spawn Soap at Zonko’s?” you asked with a shrug. It was delightful to have the chance to drive the investigation away from you and the boys and towards a dead end. 

“They could have bought only one and used gemino on it?” said Michael. 

“Would that make everyone who’s bought Frog Spawn Soap a suspect?” Asked Sirius with a devious smile. 

“Not everyone can use gemino, it’s a 7th-year spell!” said Terix. 

“But I’ve seen 4th years do it,” said Remus casually. “Vix knows too,” he added as he pointed at you. 

“Kind of,” you lied. “Still trying to get the hand of it,” you corrected. 

Flitwick smiled at the fact that you’d attempted to learn such a complicated spell. The kind of smile that was both proud but also not too surprised about it, as that was something normal to expect from you –which perhaps it was, at least a little bit. 

“So it narrows it down to everyone who’s able to use gemino and bought Frog Spawn Soap,” said Imgoen, trying to both recap and divert the attention away from you. She had no evidence that you’d been involved in the prank, but she didn’t have any doubts either, it was also the kind of thing you would have done –provided that the boys got you wrapped up in it, and you had been with them most of the Christmas Break. 

“What if they bought the Frog Spawn Soap elsewhere? We were all on the break, could have bought it at any prank shop of the country –heck– they could have even bought it abroad.” 

 “Yeah, there is no way we track down the culprit if they got it abroad, right professor?” asked Mary.

“Unfortunately, if it was frog spawn soap there is no way for us to discover who caused the infestation –If it really was a student that made it happen…” 

“What do you mean by that? You think it might have been Peeves?” asked Dora Johnson. 

“Although that was a theory initially, we’ve talked to Peeves, he maintains it wasn’t him.” 

“And you believe a poltergeist?” asked Tim sceptically. 

“Peeves often takes pride of his pranks, he wouldn’t hide it was him with this one, since it was quite successful,” replied James politely, but also matter-of-factly. Peeves had never taken the credit for any of the marauder’s pranks. 

“Indeed he is, thank you Mr. Potter,” nodded Flitwick. “But that wasn’t exactly what I meant with it having been caused by a student. 

“Then what did you?” 

“I guess this would be more of a History of Magic class, or History of Hogwarts…” He looked up and then around. “Does anybody have that book around at the moment?” 

“Hogwarts: A History?” asked Beth. 

“Precisely.” 

“I think I’ve got it,” Lily said as she dug her hand into her bag and pulled out a considerably thick book. “I’m working on an essay for my optative,” she explained when the entire class looked at her like she was a unicorn. Well, everyone except for James, who was looking at her in his usual manner –heart eyes, almost a little dumbed out, totally oxytocin-filled. 

“No need to explain yourself, Miss Evans,” said Flitwik with a simple nod. She gave him a lopsided smile in return. “Please open page 157.” 

Lily frowned as she looked at him but did as told. Marlene sitting beside her, leaned over Lily’s shoulder too. “Hogwart’s self Mantainance?” 

“Indeed, indeed,” the teacher replied with a nod. “Please the first paragraph Miss. Mackinnon.” 

“Hogwarts is a complex magical structure, and even if Salazar, Godric, Helga and Rowena planned for the house elves to do most of the cleaning, there were still other things that had to be taken care of. After a lot of talking, the four founders ended up designing an incredibly complex system for the self-maintenance for the school. About 4,000 spells were cast all over, some of them imbued with ancient spells we don’t use anymore…” 

“Yes! Yes! That’s right,” Flitwick said as Marlene’s reading slowly died down. “And you see, many of said spells are a complete mystery. Some have recorded them, some are recurring, but others are a total enigma, and happen every hundreds of years. When I was a student, for an entire week the school smelled funny. Some of the portraits explained every two or three hundred years the students complained about that funny smell, like rotten eggs. Upon some research, we discovered it was a rather specific charm to keep undesirable magical creatures at bay. 

“And while the toads have never been recorded, who’s to say it wasn’t some kind of charm? Perhaps a pest control of some kind…” 

“So you think It’s some kind of ancient continence charm?” Asked Tom with a sly smile. 

“Well, it’s a theory, indeed.” 

“If you think about it, it makes sense,” said Dora. “Toads are always eating insects and stuff… which makes them great for controlling small pests. And the toads did look quite hungry.” 

“Precisely Miss. Johnson,” nodded Fltwick as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

“Even when there’s been no record of it happening before?” asked Terix. 

“Well…” said Marlene as she flipped through the pages. “There weren’t any records of the total blackout of the 50s, they only figured out it had been part of the maintenance because somebody found the spell in a book years later.” 

“Does that mean many other weird things like the toads could happen?” Asked Michael. 

“They are quite rare…” you said, as you peeked over to Lily’s table. Remus gave you a look and pulled you back towards your spot when he thought you were going to fall. “Thanks,” you muttered as you turned to him and softly pinched the side of his arm. It was a way to say ‘love you’ when you couldn’t quite squeeze his hand or press a kiss to his cheek. 

“Indeed, you should consider yourselves lucky that you witnessed such a historic event,” the professor said solemnly. 

“Right we are!” said James. “History! We witnessed History!” 

It’s not that James was saying it in an ironic manner or anything similar, if anything he seemed just as excited as Flitwick. But it was because you knew his roll in the prank that his words seemed so hilarious. Rather than laughing, though, you coughed a couple of times and then drank a little bit of water to calm your nerves. 

“Way to be discrete about it Vixen,” said Prongs as the three of you walked towards your next class. 

“You weren’t much better,” you said with a laugh. “We should be thankful, we’ve witnessed history,” you added in a high-pitched tone while waving your hands in the air dramatically. 

“I don’t sound like that at all!” he complained. 

“You kind of do!” you teased, and he threw a few peanuts he was munching on towards you.

“James, don’t be so wasteful, please,” Lily chided, she had just caught up with all of you. 

“Right, sorry, Luv,” he said as he turned to look at her, and took from her shoulders to carry it himself. 

You and Remus exchanged a diverted glance, and then Lily turned to you with a small smirk and a wink. You raised your eyebrows as you looked at her –she had a very smug expression going on at this point and you lagged behind just enough to blow her a kiss without James noticing (then he would have known she didn’t really mean it about being wasteful, but rather was defending you). 

“Oi! Hands off my peanuts, Padfoot!” he said as he snapped the other boy’s hand. 

“Our Peanuts, Prongs,” said Sirius with a casual shrug as he plopped one of them into his mouth. “This is a communist society.” 

“Communist my ass, I had to bribe the house elves for this ones!” 

“You what?” Lily asked as he turned to him in shock. 

“By ‘bribe’, he just means he goes down to the kitchen and asks them nicely,” Peter explained. 

“Well yeah, but they didn’t want to give them up because they needed them for some the Chicken Stay.” 

“Satay,” corrected Sirius. 

“What?” 

“It’s Chicken Satay, not Chicken Stay.” 

“Wait, really?” James asked as he turned to him, clearly confused. Sirius took that as an opportunity to take a few more peanuts. He moved the handful behind your back, which Remus took after a graceful movement that you hadn’t had the luck to witness. 

“Yeah,” you said, to keep his eyes away from the bag. Lily rolled her eyes at the entire interaction, but she had a happy smile on her face as she watched how well the three of you worked together, like the finest wristwatch, each gear working in tandem to tell the right time. “You didn’t know?” 

“I thought it was stay!” 

“Either way, how are they gonna make the food withotut the peanuts?” 

“They were just for the sauce, I told them they could try and make a different sauce, to get creative.” 

“Merlin, we’ll have mystery sauce,” said Lily. 

“Just avoid the sauce,” James said with a shrug. “Besides, the peanuts are a great surce of protein, perfect for all of us Quidditch players prepparing for the last match.” 

“And yet you’re gatekeeping them,” you said. 

“Ugh, just have some,” he siad as he handed the bag over to you and you placed a couple in your hand, Remus was already munching on some of the ones Sirius had sneaked for him and you took one and plopped it in your mouth before feeding Sirius a couple of them. 

“Did you guys finish your homework?” asked Mary, she had ran inbetween James and Lily and stood right infront of everyone with a preoccupied face. 

“What homework?” asked Sirius with a frown. 

“Potions? Essay about common household ones? it was for the break.” 

You turned to Remus with a worried expression, but he gave you a calm nod in return. “We’ve got it, don’t worry, Luv.” 

You were tempted to lean in and press a kiss on his beautiful lips, but there were too many people in the corridors not to mention the fact that neither Mary nor Peter knew about the new relationship status, and although the three of you agreed you’d slowly tell your friends –and you were meant to tell the girls while they the boys, neither of you had set a due date, rather you decided to do it when you thought was best.

“Shit,” Sirius said as he remembered both that he hadn’t done it, and that Severus was now his partner in potions. “You think he did it?” 

“Severus?” you asked. “There is no way in hell he puts your name on it. Especially not after the new nickname you gave him.” 

“He does not know I was the one that started it…” 

“He blames us for everything bad that happens to him anyway,” James said as Sirius turned to him.

“Well, at least I won’t be the only one that didn’t do it.” 

“Who are you looking at, I did it!” 

“You what?” Sirius asked, dumbfounded. 

“Actually, the only reason I remembered to do it is thanks to Vix” 

“Whatever do I have to do with your essay? Didn’t even remember to do mine.” 

“You recall that day you were playing Romeo and Juliet on the balcony and then fell?” 

“You fell off James’ balcony?!” intervened Lily, pitch slightly higher, concerned evident in her tone.

“James made it sound a lot worse than it actually was,” you reassured. “2 and a half metres at most… Maybe three.” 

Lily looked at you just as horrified as she had been looking at you before. “Some bushed caught her, she was totally fine,” James added. “Either way, a fall is a fall, so we went digging in my father’s cabinet for some anti-swelling potion.” 

“By Merlin, what we found there.” 

“What you found there? What did you find there?” asked Sirius, turning towards you.

You and James exchanged a look and then laughed. “Bit of everything.” 

“Anyway, we left the one we used outside and when Dad asked me to put it back, I remembered and wrote a quick one.” 

“And what potion did you talk about?” 

“Sleekeazy, I asked Dad if he still had his notes from when he created it, we’re definitely going to get an ‘O’.” 

Lily gave him a thumbs-up and a small smile. James had been working a lot harder on potions since he was with her and they’d turned into an incredibly good team. The fact that they’d started dating just made it better, since Lily was less impassive and a lot more tolerant towards him now.

“So I’m the only one without an essay?” 

“Nah, Mars and I did nothing either,” Mary said with a pout. “Is anyone willing to lend me their essay?” 

“I have some notes on Draught of Living Death,” you said as you pulled out your notebook, but Sirius was quicker to snatch it away from your hands than Mary.

“Sorry, darling,” he told her with a smile. “I’ve got boyfriend privileges.” 

Her pout just grew and Lily took out her notebook, “You can take my notes on Veritasserum,” she said with a small shrug, Mary’ pout instantly turned into a smile. “I’ve got the best friends in the entire world,” she said as she pulled both you and Lily towards her and placed her arms arounf your shoulders. “And not just because you help me when I forget my homework, you know that, right?” 

Lily laughed and you smiled, leaning your head against her shoulder and feeling some of her thick curls brush against your cheek, content to have such delightful friends, and thinking how exactly you would tell them about you and the boys and the relationship you’d ended up in. 

Slughorn was already inside the classroom by the time you reached the door, he was leaning in his desk with a small smile and and that air of grandiosity he always carried himself with. New year, new potion, and by the looks of it, it wasn’t going to be an easy one at all. He looked all too thrilled about giving the class for it to be an easy one, but you didn’t hate the idea of a complicated potion. In fact, you yearned for the normalcy of your problems being related to school and not the end of the world and a fascist takeover of power.

A few ingredients were already settled on the tables as everyone walked over to their place.  Some looked at the assortment with curiosity, while others just pushed them towards the end of the table almost carelessly, to make some space for their parchments and notebooks. Remus eyed you once he spotted the large jar filled with rose petals, wondering if you liked recieving flowers, he’d never asked. 

He didn’t much like giving flowers, there was something inherently sad about giving someone something on the verge of dying that displeased him. Even when charmed, and frozen in time, cut flowers were still cut, and once cut, they couldn’t survive, not in a way that mattered at least. Magic could make them last forever, but they still would be forever at the edge of dying. He much preferred giving living flowers. Hope always had flower pots and her orchard had always been filled with flowers –taken care of by spells from Lyall since she wasn’t all that great at keeping them alive either. But he had always seen them in bloom, from rose bushes to hydrangeas and even lily bells. 

He used to love, before going to Hogwarts and while he was educated by his parents, to see them sprout as the snow started to dissolve into water poodles, the almost magic-like qualities of the change of seasons and the resilient little buds that refused to give up on life even in such withering conditions. He used to think he was like those little plants, no matter how cold winter got, he kept fighting his way up the thick snow, perhaps eventually it would melt. 

And when he turned back to look at you, writing something in your notebook and then turning to him after noticing he was staring, smiling and sending him a small wink, he realised that the snow had indeed melted. You and Sirius were bright enough to melt it, and he would push through, and give his best, as long as he could bathe on your shine once he beat whatever layer of snow the world might bring him. 

“What’s got you so lost in thought?” you asked as you leaned closer to him. 

“Just thinking of my partners,” he said as he turned to you with a sneaky smile. 

“So you are?” you smiled just as teasingly, perhaps a good smile wouldn’t let him see how embarrassed you actually were. “Care to share with the class?” 

“It wouldn’t be proper,” he lied. 

“All the more fun then, isn’t it?” 

“How can such a dirty mind fit in such a small head?” he teased as he placed his hand on your head and shook you lightly, you laughed merrily at his action, and leaned back towards him. Sirius was way too focused on creating an essay to notice how adorable his lovers looked, which perhaps wasn’t all that bad, since he would have wanted to abandon what he was doing entirely just to join you.

More and more students walked inside the classroom when the bell rang and Slughorn stood from his seat, waving his hand at the door and having it close just seconds later, which had some students jump startled in their seats. 

“From the ingredients in the table, can anybody guess what potion we’re making today?” 

“Calming draught?” asked a student.

“That does not have Niffler’s Fancy,” said Severus with an eye roll. “Is it a beautification potion?” he asked. 

“Why, need one of those?” Sirius mumbled and got a death stare from the greasy-haired boy. 

Remus sighed, he knew teasing Severus was a bad idea, especially after what he’d seen in the bathroom. The small snicker you were trying to hold almost instantly made him forget. It had been quite a hilarious tease anyway. 

You looked at the assortment of ingredients: rose petals, niffler’s fancy, moonstone, pearl dust, mint, aswinder eggs (perhaps the most telling of them all), vanilla pod, and a few other things where the label was too small or non-existent.

“Is it Healing Tonic?” asked James, who remembered seeing some of those ingredients in his father’s medical journal. 

The ingredients themselves could have prepared anything, even the ashwinder eggs, but there had been something unusual at the beginning of the class that gave you an idea of what the potion could have been “It’s amortentia, isn’t it, Professor? That’s why you shut the door,” you said.

Slughorn’s smile widened as he looked at you. “Brilliantly said, darling,” he said.  You’d only ever heard him call Lily with that nickname, until then you had only been “Miss” and your last name. You almost appreciated not being reminded of Silas in that sense. “Indeed, indeed, we’ll be brewing amorentia.” 

“Aren’t we supposed to be able to do those only after the N.E.W.T.S?” Said Mulciber from the back. 

“That’s right, Mr. Dolohov, in fact only some students in 7th actually get to brew the potion effectively. Regardless, the potion contains a lot of complicated techniques that you’ll find useful on other brews, and since this class already has a handful of talented potioneers–” he looked around, his eyes stopping in your table, Lily, Severus and Evan’s– “I decided we would make the first attempt on this class. If a team does succeed, you’ll be getting a price in return.” 

“A price?” Asked Sirius curiously. 

“A potion from my personal stash, whichever you want, no questions asked,” Slughorn added as he pulled a small wooden box and opened it, inside of it there were about 50 different vials, small and with various shapes and sizes, from round and transparent, swirled and completely black. All of them had a small label hanging from them with neatly written cursive, Slughorn’s handwriting. 

“Any of them? Whichever we choose?” Asked Evan apprehensively. 

“Yes, indeed,” Slughorn nodded, and with a wave of his hand, the box closed itself shut. He pulled out his wand and a set of books rose from the back bookshelf and slowly flew towards everyone’s desk. “Page 567, Mr. Black, please.” 

Sirius cleared his throat and pulled the book towards him as he quickly flipped through the pages, “Amortentia, also known as The Most Powerful Love Potion in existence, is also an extremely dangerous brew that can have catastrophic results if handled incorrectly,” he started. Slughorn seemed quite pleased, and after Sirius turned his eyes up to make sure he was expected to continue, he did. “Do not be fooled by its name, although the effects of Amortentia are extremely powerful, it is impossible for it, or any other potion to manufacture true love. Its true effect is akin to obsessive infatuation.” 

“Indeed, but as you know, even if it is not true love, excessive infatuation can be extremely dangerous. Any real-life examples?” Lily raised her hand. “Miss Evans, please.” 

“When Henry VIII of England was king, he fell madly in love with Anne Boleyn. Plenty of scholars said they often saw her pouring drinks for him at parties and gatherings, and that little after he was head over hills for her. She managed to secure her marriage with Henry and England went through the break with the church. Anne never quite managed to give him a male heir and she fell out of favour.

“I read somewhere that before that happened, some of his advisors realised she was pouring stuff in his drinks and she was forbidden from serving the king, And only after that she fell out of his favour, then the Witchcraft rumours started. I checked on some old Hogwarts records because I was curious. Anne studied here before joining the king’s court, back in the fifteen hundreds, she was a Slytherin and a promising potioneer, although she was never quite good at charms. This was back when Hogwarts didn’t have such a complete curriculum, and students were only expected to master one or two crafts instead of all of them.”  You’d swear there was a shine in Slughorn’s eyes as he heard Lily speak. “The records of her being a witch were erased from most of their history, but the rumours persisted, and perhaps they would have stayed as that if Hogwarts didn’t have such a complete library.” 

“An excellent example, Miss Evans. It illustrates the dangers of obsessive infatuation.”

“What? Destroying a marriage?” Someone joked from behind. 

“Being murdered for it,” retorted Mulciber. 

“She was only murdered because she got discovered.” 

“That’s such a Slytherin comment,” Mary said to Marlene under her breath, unfortunately, the Slytherin who spoke first heard it.

“What did you say?” he asked as he stood up, his chair grinding against the stone loudly. 

“Enough!” Slughorn said. “20 points from Slytherin thanks to Mr. Parkinson,” he added sternly. “10 for Gryffindor, thanks to Miss Evans’s brilliant remark.” 

There was a choir of cheers and moans, and Mulciber kicked Preston Parkinson under the table, who complained about it with a moan and a look of hate. Lily stood straighter, proud of having gotten some more points for her house, and James was staring at her as if she were the brightest star in the galaxy. 

“Now, allow us to continue. Can somebody tell me what the most important ingredient in amorentia is?” 

“Pearl dust?” someone asked, Slughorn shook his head. 

“Ashwinder eggs?” Marlene asked, generally the most important ingredient of the potion was the first listed, so she went for it. 

“It’s extremely important, but no.” He looked at you. “Any ideas?” 

You looked at him, going through the list of instructions one by one, and then you remembered. “The item belonging to whom which the drinker will fall in love with,” you said. “Without it, it’s a completely useless brew that smells nice, with it, it becomes a weapon. Like Polyjuice.” 

“Yes! And…?” He pressed.

You bit your lip, you weren’t sure what else there was, you turned to Remus for help, and nodded calmly before looking at Slughorn, “It’s the intention, isn’t it, Professor?” 

Slughorn seemed quite pleased with the answer. “Indeed, the intention and the item are the most important. You may brew a perfect potion, but without the intention, even the best brew will be nothing more than an ingredient soup.” 

“What does that mean?” Asked Archie McMillan, a Slytherin that wasn’t all that disagreeable.

“Some potions require you to have clear intentions as you brew them. Much like the unforgivable curses, if you do not mean to use them accordingly, then they won’t work.” 

“But…” started Beth. “Wouldn’t us wanting to make such a potion put us in a bad position?” 

“Brilliant question, Miss Harmon. But want and intent are not the same. You may not want to harm someone and still intend to do it. For example, when you’re in an argument, you may purposefully say things to hurt the other person. Intentions are short-lived, temporary, wants, on the contrary, may last much longer.” 

“But does that mean we must have the intention to use it while we brew it?” Asked Mary. 

“Indeed,” he said as he nodded. “You must have the intention to use it, even if you do not want to do it.” 

“That sounds complicated,” Marlene said as she shook her head.

“And that’s why it is one of the trickiest potions to brew,” Slughorn confirmed. “Advance potions tend to have this quality, intentions matter, and that is also why they are so complicated to craft. A good flask of amorentia, one that will last for years, can cost up to a thousand galleons, and can only be found on the black market. The longer it lasts, the more expensive it will be. Does anyone know how to guess the potency of amorentia?” 

“The stronger it’s smell, the more potent,” retorted Severus. 

“Indeed, Mr. Snape, indeed.” 

“So the potion that’ll get the price will be the one that smells the strongest?” Asked Alison Prewett.

“Precisely,” he said solemnly. 

“But how do we intend without wanting?” Asked Tom. 

“Quite simple,” said Slughorn. “Think of the person you’d like to use the potion on, while you brew, cut and stir.” 

“But what if I don’t want to use it on anyone?” Asked Peter. 

“Think about it,” Slughorn said. “Is there really no person you’d like to use a potion like that on? Nobody you fancy but know is completely out of your reach? Perhaps a celebrity? A book character? A Quidditch player?” 

Peter adverted his gaze and looked at the table, taking a deep breath which made you look at him with some concern. “You think he’s all right?” you asked as you leaned towards Remus. 

“Wormmy?” He asked. “Why wouldn’t he be?” 

You shrugged, “Something in his gaze, I guess… Might be overthinking it.” 

Remus leaned his head and turned to Peter, but by then he had already gathered himself up again and was clumsily writing what Slughorn was saying on his parchment. Very characteristic of him, “He looks all right to me.” 

“Yeah, I suppose he does,” you said as you looked at him again, Remus words reassuring enough for the thought to slip your mind as Slughorn kept going on about all the ingredients you would need.

“All the ingredients are on the table, you may start. Remeber, maintain your intention, the stronger it is, the better the potion will come out.” 

“This would have been a lot easier last semester,” Remus said as you weighed some of the ingredients.

“You think?” you asked as you moved the weights on the scale, making sure it was the right amount.

“I would have had just the right intentions.” 

You turned to him with a smile, “Yeah?” you teased. “Would have thought of using it on us?” 

He shrugged, “I was always thinking of you, it would have been easy enough to keep the intention.” 

“You could still think of us, it’s what I’m planning to do,” you said with a shrug. 

“Yeah? You’ll think of me? But you already know you have me.” 

You hummed in response. “Still, imagine what a little bit of amortentia could do to calm old Remus,” you added with a smirk.

He gasped, “Calm, old?”

“Well, if the shoe fits–”

“You haven’t seen a thing. We’ve been dating for like, what? A day and a half?” he whispered. 

“See? You’re exactly the type that would keep count,” you said, just to tease him, and the brush on his tongue on the inside of his cheek made a small bump as he shook his head.

“You think it’s funny.” 

“I think it’s adorable,” you retorted, equally teasing smile. “I think you are adorable.” 

“Now you’re just trying to make me blush.” 

“Perhaps If I keep that as my intention then we’ll get the potion to be fantastic,” you retorted.

“You think I’d blush more under amortentia.” 

“You don’t? Picture this. Your room, me and Sirius. The boys aren’t around, and there definitely won’t be any James barging in at the wrong time. We’re listening to some nice, soft jazz in the record player, maybe some of the ones I got you on Christmas, maybe some from your collection and–” 

“Is everything all right with you two?” Asked Slughorn as he approached.

“Delightful,” you said, turning to him with a smile. Remus could tell you were blushing by the way your smile tightened as you looked up, he leaned his head on his hand looked at you with a very self-assured look, and raised an eyebrow, which you saw out of the corner of your eye. He was teasing you now, in retaliation for your earlier insinuations. “We were just discussing our intentions.” 

Slughorn gave you a pleased look, “Such a brilliant team the two of you make,” he said with a nod. “Nothing better than two friends being potion partners,” he added. “Well, perhaps two lovers…” 

“Like Effie and Monty, right?” 

“Yes, the Potters were some of the few students I’ve had that completed this potion perfectly. They weren’t dating then, I believe they thought of each other. It made it all the more powerful in the end.” 

“Well, I certainly know who my partner will be thinking of,” Sirius said maliciously towards Severus, once he overheard the conversation you were having with Slughorn. 

“Yeah, well I know exactly who you’ll be thinking of as well,” the other boy retorted viciously. “And it won’t be your stupid little girlfriend, will it?”

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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A/N: Since we're getting close to the end, I'm planning to do a reread (10-15 chaps left) + heavy revision once we're done (still a few months from there but it's probably going to be done sometime this year) because I want to make my own printed version of it (probably on Lulu), and perhaps a cute epub file? It will probably contain pictures, fan art, and other bonus material. Either way, if you want to collaborate, either in the revision or in bonus content, please don't hesitate to hit me up.

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no way home 😥😥

splatty

daenerys targaryen is... the prince who was promised (if u watch got pls watch this edit)

more cherik I CANT I NEED UGH STOP 2

pls do me all day captain

oo that sounded really bratty! 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

lol stucky was never casual hahahah except its not funny

andrew garfield. thats all.

sexy boy rj lupin

like one hour long wanda edits 2 3

guess what else wasnt casual...

i love u bobby 2

my fav lesbian witch (and her show) 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

thunderbolts 2

marauders

ok so in conclusion i love me some edits!

Devastating news today. Sorry to have to post these drawings in these circumstances 🥺

I love her a lot, she will be deeply, deeply missed 😔

Dame Margaret Natalie Smith CH DBE (28 December 1934 − 27 September 2024) ✨ Rest in Love.

Anyone But You | Chapter 12

Summary: You stay quiet about what happened the previous night, deny an invitation, end up starting a snowball fight, and decide to change your earlier choice.

CW: None!

WC: 2.5k

AN: ohhhh man readers warming up??? sorry to keep all of you waiting!! this month has been soooo tedious

Series Masterlist | F.W Masterlist | Previous | Next | Navi

You won’t tell anyone about what happened last night.

About how you bawled your eyes out into Fred’s chest. 

How he cupped your face with such gentleness. 

That he cradled you and brushed his fingers through your hair.

That he walked you back to the common room, his arm around your shoulder as you sniffled through the corridors. He even offered to walk you upstairs into the girls dorm, which you refused. 

Or that he gave you his jumper once he noticed your shivering from the cold wind, and you went to bed with it still on.

It was loose on your body, the sleeves hung a bit past your fingertips, and smelled of a weird combination of chocolate, vanilla, and the smoke from fireworks. You slept like a baby with it on. 

The sunlight shining directly on your eyes was enough to wake you up the next morning. You rubbed your eyes, which still stung a bit from last night, and sat up. 

Reading the time on the clock, 12:53 PM, you mumbled a curse to yourself. It was a Sunday, but you slept in way longer than you wanted to.

Pulling the sheets off yourself, you stumbled your way out of bed and down into the common room. Katie and Angelina were sitting in front of the small table by the sofa, catching up on class work. 

You mumbled a greeting and their heads both whipped towards you. 

“Hey, how’re you doing?” Katie asked softly in the same tone your parents would ask when you were sick in bed, with that same sympathetic smile you were sick of seeing from everyone.

“Uh, alright. Better, I guess.” You did feel better, honestly. Maybe all you needed to get out of that state was just a really good cry. 

“That’s great!” Katie pipped, they both soon awkwardly turned their attention back to the papers they were writing on, they were almost done writing. Katie was completely done but pretending to continue writing, her pencil hovering over the paper. You plopped down on the leather chair next to the table.

“Is that new?” Angelina asked, nodding her head to Fred’s jumper that you were wearing.

“Er, no. I just found it in the back of my dresser.” You crossed your arms over your torso, as if it was any help to shield the sight of the jumper, slouching down into your chair.

Katie and Angelina both gave each other quick glances, quick suspicious knowing looks.

Fred entered from his dorm, Angelina cleared her throat and nudged Katie.

“Oh, I forgot! Madam Hooch needs our help with something on the field.” She announced, taking a fake look at her watch. “We should get to it, shouldn’t we Katie?” Katie caught on, rambling out an agreement. 

They scrambled out of the room, leaving you alone with Fred. Again. You were praying Fred didn’t tell them about the previous night.

“Hey.” His voice was soft, he took slow, nervous steps to the sofa. Sitting down, but looking tense.

“Hi.”

“Feeling any better?” He didn’t slouch back into the sofa like he usually would, he was sitting up straight and nervous.

“Yeah, actually, I am.” You nodded quickly, there was no snark in your voice.

“Good, that’s good.” He cleared his throat, rubbing his hands back and forth on his thighs.

The room felt tense and very awkward. You couldn’t stand it, you got up and headed for your dorm.

“Uh, I’m having a birthday party thing over spring break.” Fred suddenly spoke out, you stopped, turning to look at him. He already had shifted in his spot to face you.

“It’s not really a party, more of a hangout or a get-together or a sleepover, sorry,” He tried to keep himself from rambling. “what I mean is that it’s gonna be over spring break.” You looked around for a second and nodded, taking a step back.

“You can come if you’d like.” He blurted out, you blinked at him.

“You’re inviting me?”

“Sure. If that’s what you like to call it.”

“Angelina’s going, maybe Katie and Hermione too.” He added, if you asked him if he was trying to persuade you, he’d probably say yes. 

“Fred.”

“Yeah?”

“We’re not friends. Don’t bother.” You shrugged, walking to your dorm.

Maybe it was a bit rude, but just because you cried in someone's arms doesn’t automatically make you friends. There was less of a hatred in your heart for Fred, sure, but you weren’t going to magically become friends with him after the previous night.

It was becoming more and more difficult to actually hate Fred, and you didn’t like it. You couldn’t stop thinking about that night in the tower. It was plaguing your mind.

You still missed Cedric, you were still upset about what happened, but you knew you couldn’t mourn and waste your days away forever.

You still wandered around the castle, the snow was beginning to clear up, not a lot, but little patches of grass and flowers started to peek through the white ground.

Moving around after your final class of the day, you walked through the courtyard mindlessly. It was still snowing a small amount.

Listening and watching your shoes crunch into the snow, you felt a hard, wet, snowball crash into the section between your back and neck. It practically exploded on your robe, you felt your hair move.

You turned around quickly, hearing a small Oh shit. and seeing the twins attempt to hide behind a bush, their shoulders still peeking out.

“That wasn’t meant for you, we swear!—“

“Lee was just leaving!—“

“We were trying to get him!” Fred peeked out, looking terrified as if you’d actually tear his face off in that moment.

A snowball hit his knee. Thrown from your hand.

He saw the way you were trying to hide your smile, pursing your lips, he could still see it while peeking out.

You grabbed another handful of snow, crushing it up into a bumpy ball, aiming at him again. He jumped back behind the bush.

“Is she challenging us? Does she look pissed?” George asked his twin, shocked, actually shocked.

“She looks…happy. Throw another one.” He nodded, George hesitated for a second before he did. You jumped to the side, hiding behind a small statue as a small giggle escaped you.

“Don’t hide!” You exclaimed, some genuine joy in your tone.

“You come out first!” 

“No! You’re just gonna gang up on me!”

The three of you ended up agreeing on leaving your hiding spots at the same time. Turning the courtyard into a snowball fight. Running around like children and aiming at each other.

George ended up hitting Fred right in the face with a small one. He stopped for a minute, wiping off his face and smiling. 

You both teamed up against George, throwing as many as you could at him as you ran in circles.

“Hey! It was an accident!” He yelled, trying to cover himself with his hands.

“It’s a snowball fight! There are no accidents!” Fred screamed back. 

After a while ran off behind the stone railings. Ready to go back into the hallways.

“Oi! Where are you going?” Fred shouted.

“The dorms! My robes are soaked and freezing!” George threw up his hands then dropped them at his sides.

“Wimp.” Fred scoffed.

“Heard that!” George shouted from down the hallway. Fred’s face spread into a meek smile, staring at you.

The closeness of you two caused your hands to touch when he turned, his face immediately turning into concern.

“Godric, your hands are freezing.” He said, taking your hands into his, you let him. You’d forgotten you didn’t wear any gloves or mittens, you didn’t plan to be outside long, definitely not in a snowball fight either.

He rubbed his hands over yours. Eventually taking his gloves off and putting them on yours. Again, you let him.

“There. Hopefully your fingers won’t snap off now.” He smiled, you looked at him.

“Um, I should give you your jumper back. It’s in the dorms.” You took your hands out of his.

“You’re fine, keep it.” He shrugged, you opened your mouth to protest but he stopped you, “I’m serious, my mum will probably give me like three more once I go home.”

“Oh, Alright,” You cleared your throat, “I should get going, maybe take a warm shower.”

“Okay.” You walked off, stopping before you left the courtyard. “Um, Fred?” You turned to him.

Just get it over with. Do it.

“I’ll come along to your party.” You said after turning around. Fred’s eyes lit up, he tripped over his words.

“Okay. Okay. Wicked.” He grinned. You gave him a small nod and smile before you walked off.

The week leading up to Spring break went painfully slow. 

One hour lectures felt like five. The two classes before lunch made it feel like it would take days before you would be able to eat. Snape's voice felt much more drawn out and words seemed like they took longer to be said from his mouth. And Freds constant staring in that class truly didn’t help either.

His staring wasn’t out of worry like it had been for the past week, his stare was a bit more nervous from the few times you saw him.

Each day that got you closer to Friday, the anticipation felt stronger and stronger. It wasn’t an excited version of that feeling either, more of an anxious one. You questioned yourself on why you agreed to go, if you were actually going to go.

Of course you sent an owl to your parents asking in advance if you could stay for a few days for the event, you told them it would probably be three days at the most. They allowed you to, however you couldn’t help but imagine how confused they must’ve been at this, knowing you didn’t like going to the Weasleys only because of the twins. Now you were asking to go over to celebrate their birthday. 

And honestly, you were just as confused as they were.

You really just hoped they didn’t question you about it once you got home.

Spring break started the weekend before the first of April.

You spent the weekend and first few days of the week at home, packing three days' worth of clothes and other necessary supplies. Also taking a small trip to Diagon Alley to find the twins a gift. 

Of course, you weren’t going to get them anything big and grand, but just a small something, so you wouldn’t be the only one who didn’t bring a gift. The twins still boiled your blood, but just a little less nowadays.

You had your plans in an organized manner. You’d go over to the burrow Thursday morning, stay and celebrate their birthday Friday, stay Saturday, and go home Sunday morning. Then the rest of spring break would be spent peacefully at home.

Now you stood in your chimney, two small gift boxes shoved in your charmed bag so they’d fit with the rest of your things. Floo powder bunched up in your hand.

You said the address to the burrow, threw down the powder, watched as green flames took over your vision, and now you were standing in the Weasleys chimney.

Fred, George, and Lee were all sitting on the sofa right in front of the chimney. George and Lee had a look of surprise on their face, seemingly shocked that you actually showed up.

While Fred smiled as you stepped out the chimney, brushing off any powder that had gotten on your clothes.

“Hi.” You gave an awkward wave to the three boys on the couch. Then clearing your throat and pulling your bag off your shoulder, unbuttoning and reaching in it to pull out the twins gifts.

“Um, these are for you.” You held out the wrapped boxes to each of the twins, one purple and one orange. They happily took them.

“A bit early. We’ll open these tomorrow with the rest.” George said, looking at Fred, who nodded in agreement.

“It’s nice for you to stop pretending to hate us.” Fred grinned.

Thankfully Mrs.Weasley appeared into the living room, you were terrified. Wondering what the twins had told her about you in the past school year. She was a wonderful lady and with the amount of times you’ve seen her scold the twins, you did not want to be the next.

The smile that broke out on her face and the way she joyfully said your name got rid of that knot in your stomach immediately.

Mrs.Weasley hurried over to give you a warm hug, pulling back to hold onto your shoulders.

“It’s great to see you again! Parents doing well?” You nodded and smiled, not prepared for her next question.

“Are you doing well? After..everything that happened, you’re holding up alright?” That sympathetic tone in her voice told you exactly what she was referring to.

“Yeah.” You swallowed, “I’m alright. I’m better.” Nodding and hoping she wouldn’t linger on this topic any longer.

Honestly, one of the reasons you agreed to go to this several-day-sleepover was to distract yourself from what happened to Cedric. If you surrounded yourself with people, you’d be able to talk about other topics rather than wallowing over a certain one in your room alone over this break.

“That's great dearie! It really is nice to see you again.” She squeezed your shoulders. 

“It’s nice to see you too, Mrs.Weasley.” You gave her a sweet smile. 

“Oh please, call me Molly.” She removed her hands from you and turned to the boys. “Don’t just sit and stare, show her where she’s staying!” She placed her hands on her hips, before exiting out the room.

“Follow me.” Fred hopped up, you stopped him before he could start walking.

"I need you to know that I was never pretending to hate you two,” You spoke out, “but I am learning how to tolerate you." You pointed at the both of them, biting back a smile. George tucked in his lips and nodded, Fred smiled and waved for you to go with him.

“Where’s everyone else?”

“Angelina won’t get here till a bit later, Katie’s coming over tomorrow, Hermonie couldn’t show up. Something about a trip with her parents.” He murmured, walking into the kitchen. “But Harry’s staying over all of the break!”

His eyes spotted a small jar of purple jam on the counter.

“Mum made more jam.” He grinned mischievously, “Hold this.” He gave your bag back to you, popping the lid of the glass jar. 

He stuck a finger into the sweet substance, scooping some out and sucking it off his finger.

You grimaced a bit, taking a mental note to not take any jam from that jar from now on.

And of course, at the perfect (or worst) time, Mrs.Weasley walked in, making a noise of disgust and disapproval at him.

“Fredrick Weasley, will you stop putting your hands in places where they don’t belong and help that girl to her room!” Molly smacked him on the arm with a rag. 

He hid his chuckles and jogged out the kitchen. You followed suit, mumbling an apology to his mother.

“Fredrick?” You smirked as you caught up with him on the stairs, you’d never heard his full name before.

“Ignore that.” He muttered, grabbing your bag back out of your hands.

tell me what you thought here! <3 or ask tba to the taglist for this series!

TAGLIST: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @five-seconds-flat @nal-leo-17 @rhunew @albertdabuttler @weak-aesthetic @whotfskai @m00nymarauder @miaandthediamonds @hpstuff244444 @tarzanathetumblingwarrior @isabellavolere @navs-bhat@honeybee240 @pillowjj @df841 @siriusmarryme @ooopsiedaisy997 @imamexican @residentdemonhunter @ma1dita @b4tm4nn @anonymously-ominous @mistpx

users that are marked out = couldn't tag you :'(

ill never shut up.

list of things that if u ask me about i will never ever shut up about bc they changed the trajectory of my life

1. frank castle and billy russo in the punisher

2. i, tonya

3. wolfstar

ok goodnight

reading a good ass fanfic up until it said something that just makes you want to stop reading

goodbye brat summer, hello Remus Lupin autumn 🍂

Reblog if you've ever stayed up all night to read a fanfiction about dead gay wizards on a School night

YES THE FUCK IT IS BABY!!!!!!

get ready for me to be insufferable again. i’d say and for me to be back in my bucky phase, but i never left 😄

Aaron Taylor Johnson (2024)

My Walpurga black fancast

ok so this is genuinely unreal like these titles because like a week ago i just discovered the song "The Killing Moon" by Echo and the Bunnymen and i was like hm this is giving like dark remis lupin energy i like it. and then this comes on my feed. this cannot be real im having like a moment

taken by the blood moon (a murder husbands b-side) - read on ao3

series: Love, Blood, and Wham: The Life and Death(s) of Remus J. Lupin

Wolfstar. 1.4k words. Murder Husbands b-side. Accidental Cult Leader Remus.

You might be wondering how Remus finds himself in this place of honour, surrounded by people who worship him like a God. Well, it’s kind of a funny story.

Welcome to yet another Murder Husbands installment!! This time Remus finds himself the unwitting leader of a Cult. All hail Dear Leader.

Please read the tags!!

This was written for the lovely @imsiriuslyreading on the belated occasion of her birthday. She is one of the very brightest lights of my life and Murder Husbands' biggest fan. Love you, mean it!

start from the beginning: The Killing Time (unwillingly mine)

WORLD CLASS SINNER - FRANK CASTLE

seven - bad idea, right?

six // finale // masterlist

Pairing: frank x exodus

Word Count: 6,754

Summary: Beaten but unbroken, Y/N manages to uncover a truth that keeps Frank from falling off a precipice. But as a result, she ends up caught.

You were screaming. Armed officers had escorted you and Frank out of the room and they kept yanking on your arm, pulling you away from Frank. You jerked in their holds, kicking and screaming and throwing every curse word in every language you had. You didn’t care that it made your wound leak blood. You didn’t care how it hurt.

“He didn’t do this! He didn’t hurt me! Let me go! Let me go!” You kept screaming, kept thrashing, until finally one of their grips faltered. The officer made an exclamation about the blood on your arm but you didn’t care.

You hurried to the gurney they were putting Frank on. The adrenaline must’ve crashed and all of his injuries were catching up to him. Yours were threatening to take you down as well, but you pushed through, using all your strength to keep your eyes open. Hands were on your arms again and you yanked hard. Your elbow smacked the railing while an exasperated sigh sounded from behind you. You refused to look, refused to budge, refused to speak. Instead, you took Frank’s hand in yours and willed him to live.

Paramedics talked around you while they loaded Frank. You tried to go with him but a stern hand on your shoulder stopped you. Your head snapped, rage now simmering in your tear-filled eyes, but you knew there was nothing intimidating about a woman crying her eyes out. Brett sighed deeply and gave you a once over. He motioned one of the medics over, said something that you couldn’t focus on, and stepped aside to let you up. You nodded gratefully and sat at Frank’s side.

The paramedic he had talked to came to your side and asked you a question. It didn’t register so when you didn’t answer, she pointed to the various injuries. You simply nodded, allowing her to reposition your body to whatever would be easiest for her to work with.

“Он не может умереть. Пожалуйста, не позволяйте ему умереть. Не он, не сейчас.” You mumbled, but you weren’t exactly sure how quiet you were. (He can’t die. Please, don’t let him die. Not him, not now.)

Was that what Frank felt when you were dying in his arms at the carousel? When you were bleeding out, staining him with the little you had left? When he begged and cursed and demanded you lived? You felt gutted. You had felt guilty enough in the coming days that you had nearly added another name to the death roll of that cursed attraction, but to now know what it felt like, it was almost enough to make you physically sick.

It was all such a bad idea. Going after Billy. Confronting the man from Ohio on your own. Coming back to New York before you had fully settled your head. You never should’ve gone to see Billy, maybe then he would’ve forgotten about everything between you two. 

Everything since had happened aggressively fast.

You arrived at the hospital and were taken to two different rooms. An entire team of E.R. staff flocked to Frank, while you had two nurses. It wasn’t important how many caregivers you had, so long as Frank lived. Quick stitches in various places and replacing the gauze you had already bled through were done while your focus was in the next room.

Please, God, don’t take him.

You were mildly surprised you let the thought come as a prayer. You truly were desperate, to turn to an entity that had turned His back on you and, despite having several chances to take Frank, didn’t seem to want him.

Hopefully you don’t want him this time either.

You were so lost in your prayers that you didn’t realize Brett was standing in front of you. Your nurses were long gone, but a prescription for antibiotics was in your hands.

“What?” Your brows furrowed as the hospital around you came back into focus.

“I just need a quick statement.” He repeated but there was something hesitant in his expression, like he knew you weren’t all there.

Clearly.

“Statement?” It was your turn to parrot. “No. No, there is no statement to give.”

“C’mon, Y/N.”

“I need Matt or Foggy before I do that.” You shook your head. You folded the paper and tucked it into the waistband of your skirt. “Call my lawyers.”

“You're not under arrest.”

“I didn’t think I was.”

“Just tell me what you two were doing there.” Brett tried instead. “He was pointing a gun at you, Y/N, but you still want me to believe he’s not the bad guy?”

That seemed to reel you back to reality. The sting of your wounds started to nag at you at the same time.

“He wasn’t going to shoot me.”

“Like he shot those other women?”

“No, something wasn’t right about that.” You confessed. “They shouldn’t have… Frank was looking for Russo.”

“And you?”

“Also looking for Russo.” You nodded.

Brett scoffed slightly but you noticed he didn’t have anything to take down your statement. That conversation wasn’t supposed to be happening, not like that at least.

“Good way to get yourself killed.” He nagged and you refrained from rolling your eyes. “Seems a habit with you.”

“Yeah, well, God doesn’t want me and neither does the Devil.” You shrugged. “Hopefully they don’t want him either.”

“You can’t save this guy, alright? Whatever you think you owe him, you don’t.”

“You weren’t there.” You said flatly but your voice sounded miles away, lost in the memory. “At the carousel. You didn’t see the way Billy looked at me, like I was just something to get rid off. To throw away and not worry about again… But Frank, he wouldn’t leave my side. You may not think I owe him anything but I owe him my life, Brett. How do I repay that?”

“Maybe you don’t.” He shrugged. “Man’s got a rap sheet that can cover the globe. That’s not the kinda guy you need to run around with.”

“You’d be surprised the company I keep.” You pushed off the bed and groaned as your leg buckled slightly, fresh pain throbbing in your stitched wounds.

They’d be healed by morning, whether your body’s doing or yours. 

“You shouldn’t go till the doctor discharges you.” Brett tried.

“I’m not gonna sit around and wait for some guy in a coat to tell me I can leave.” You countered. “The nurses did their jobs. They’ll bill my insurance. Everyone still gets paid.”

“Y/N-“

“No.” You said firmly. “You say I don’t owe Frank anything. You don’t owe me anything so stop trying to protect me. I was FBI SWAT and before that, something worse. I’m fine.”

“Okay, clearly you need a concussion eval because there’s something going on.” He complained. “Stay put. I’m finding a nurse for you.”

You blew out a sigh and watched him go. Once he disappeared down a hallway, you left. You wandered the emergency area, peeking into rooms until you found Frank. You couldn’t and it made a hole in your gut. You cursed yourself and then found a small collection of nurses, muttering about having treated the Punisher and how they were glad he had moved to another unit.

You found your way to the hospital gift shop and were able to get a clean shirt and shorts. The lady at the register, after her eyes flicked to every stitched wound and shadowed bruise she could see, said she would add it to your existing bill. She reached over to scan the bracelet and sent you on your way. You changed in the closest bathroom and decided to take the long walk to your apartment.

When you got there, you took a warm shower. You felt the remaining blood washing away, soaked your hair and scrubbed it firmly. You wanted to stay in the water, to pretend there was no war against Billy outside your apartment. Pretend the man from Ohio wasn’t hunting you as well. Pretend there wasn’t a terrified teenage girl counting on you. But you knew that your apartment wouldn’t be safe forever.

So you got out, finished getting ready, brought yourself to tears forcing the slashes to heal, slipped the stitches that were still wet with blood, and left. You wore a short sleeve compression shirt with your vest over it. You hid it all under a loose fitting button up and blazer. You clipped the badge to your waistband on one side and slipped your gun into the back of your belt. You slipped a small switchblade into your pocket and grabbed your purse before returning to the hospital, almost as a whole new woman.

“Sorry, ma’am.” The posted officer said easily, stepping in front to block your path. “Hospital staff and police only.”

“I’m with Nelson and Murdock, Castle’s legal team.” You countered and went to pass. He stepped in front again and your head cocked in annoyance. “What do you want, my Bar license? I have a right to see my client.”

“Sorry.” He shrugged. “Strict orders.”

“Hmm.” You nodded, tongue pushed against your cheek. Your eyes flicked to the name pinned to his chest. “How about now, Officer Smith?” You shifted your blazer to show your FBI badge.

“I could also pull out the Sixth Amendment from the Bill of Rights. Neither my bureau nor your precinct can deny a person legal representation. Due process and all, but hey, this is great grounds for a mistrial.” You continued, a shrug of your own. “Or I could just have your badge now. Your choice.”

“Alright, just go.” He groaned and waved you on. As you passed, he muttered something about the second ‘know-it-all bitch’ to come for Castle.

Karen beat you to it then.

When you stepped inside, Karen was sitting silently in the closest chair.

“Y/N…” She gasped and sat a little straighter.

You were suddenly thankful you had taken care of yourself before you came.

“It’s good to finally see you.” She continued.

“Right, well, things have been busy.” You nodded and went to Frank’s other side. You slid off your blazer and sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m just glad he’s alive.”

“Well what about you? Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“Does um- Does Matt or Foggy know you’re back?”

“They saw the news about the ReadyQuick check place.”

“I know they’d love to-“

“I didn’t come back for a reunion, Karen.” You sighed.

It wasn’t fair to be mean to Karen. You knew that and you knew you should apologize. There was too much going on that she didn’t know that had your focus. Amy. Billy. Frank. The man from Ohio. The bounty on you all. There were pieces that you weren’t even sure how or if they fit anymore. Dinah. Dr. Dumont. Curtis. Your mind was too busy, too locked in on your mission, to worry about pleasantries.

“I came back because he needed me.” You looked at Frank. “Because he and…”

You knew Karen was trustworthy. She had kept your secrets until she physically couldn’t anymore. She kept Matt’s secret, even in his alleged death. She kept Frank’s in his. But telling her about Amy felt more vulnerable than anything. Instead, you trained your eyes on the cuffs around Frank’s wrist. You wondered if the pins in your hair would be enough to trigger the pins and release them.

“Y/N, what the hell happened?” She asked and the fear in her voice didn’t go unnoticed. “I saw the news.”

“Billy.”

“Did he… Did he see you two coming?”

“Don’t.” You sighed.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t get involved this time. Look at what it did to him, and you don’t even know what it did to me.”

“She’s right.” Frank murmured and you felt the relief roll through you. He wouldn’t look at her, barely even looked at you. “Walk away, Karen.”

“What? You two think you can scare me off that easy?”

“It’s not about scaring you.” You sighed. “It’s about keeping you alive.”

“I don’t think you want me to go.” She shook her head and stood.

You sighed and got to your feet. You angled your body so you could face them both and you kept a hand on the side rail.

“It’s a tough situation.” She continued and you raised a brow. “But nothing we haven’t dealt with before. We just have to figure out what to do about it.”

“What to…” Your brows furrowed and you took a few tentative steps forward. Karen shifted but didn’t move. “Karen, we don’t do anything. You think there’s a firm in this country that can do anything? We’re fucked on that front.”

“I did it.” Frank said quietly.

“Shut up.” You said sharply.

“I killed three women.”

“Shut up!”

“Why?” He scoffed and you turned quickly. “You’re not gonna fix this. Neither of you are. What you’re both gonna do is turn around and walk out that damned door, alright? You’re gonna get as far away from this and from me as you can.”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me to go.” You threatened. “I dare you. I’m not leaving until you actually have the audacity to pull the trigger on me.”

Karen went back to her seat and took a gentler approach. “It doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

“It should.” He said quietly.

“It doesn’t.”

Was that what you and Matt looked like, when you were practically begging for him to hate you for what you’d done? You could remember the way his expression shifted everytime you brought up the blood on your hands. He had cringed, not at what you had done but at what you thought you were. He never thought you the villain and you would never understand what you had done to deserve that. Something in a past life, maybe, but when you stood and watched Frank bully himself for something you weren’t convinced happened, you knew he deserved that same treatment.

You didn’t see bad in Frank. He had done admittedly bad things, illegal things, but you were no better. Call it whatever name, you and Frank were still soldiers, trained to fight whatever war found you. This wasn’t one you’d let him fight alone.

You all sat in silence for a little while. You played the scene of that night over and over, trying to picture the wounds on the women, but so much had happened so fast. You hadn’t gotten a good enough look. You couldn’t say for absolute where the bullets came from but you were willing to bet it had nothing to do with Frank. It was something Billy did. You were sure of it. But how the hell were you going to prove it?

After a long while of silence while Frank tried to sleep off his injuries some more, Karen spoke.

“What about you?” She asked carefully.

“What about me?” You replied tightly.

“If this is what happened to him, I can only guess how you were hurt.”

“Few slashes, bullet graze, more bruises than anything.” You shrugged and thought of the deep purples and blues that covered your body from your fight against the Ohio man. You wondered how much was still there.  “I wasn’t wearing anything so he made sure to take the brunt of it. Most of it just hurts from before.”

She nodded and you could see she wasn’t sure how to segway into what she wanted to talk about.

“There’s a reason I haven’t seen anyone.” You said plainly. “This fight with Billy and-“ You shook your head. “It’s too much to risk to see them.”

“Would they make that choice?”

“I know Matt would, and he’d also agree that Foggy doesn’t need to be dragged into this either. You’re the only one insisting.”

After that, you went to get a coffee from the cafeteria. You had to argue your way back into the room when a new officer was posted, but the flash of your badge and your ID let you through. When you got back to the room, you stayed out of sight for a moment while you listened.

Frank was awake, telling the full story of the carousel. He mentioned the way his kids looked at him and you could hear the pain in his voice, feel it crawling under your skin and freezing your veins. You shivered and the warm drink in your hand felt as if you had pulled it from the fridge.

The blue fog in the room was growing thicker with every word, making it harder for you to breathe. Tears you hadn’t realized were building fell down your cheeks and you had to take a few shaky, labored breaths before you managed to find control of yourself and your powers. You knew you were growing more tired and in turn, your abilities were more sensitive, but you’d expected to break down over your inability to be done with Billy, not the Castle family’s tragedy.

You came fully into the room and wiped at your eyes with your sleeve. You set the coffee on the far table and sniffled slightly. Karen looked at you with her own tears forming and Frank’s eyes were glassy as well. You knew there was nothing to say about his family so you didn’t. While you were thinking of something, anything, to try to explain your theory, the door opened and a nurse’s cart was pushed in.

Your head snapped and your hand went for the switchblade. As your fingers found the metal, the “nurse” turned out to be Amy. Frank grumbled in annoyance and you laughed in relief.

“Thank God.” She sighed with a smile and you smiled back, but then her suspicious eyes latched onto Karen. It almost made you laugh. “Who are you?”

“Easy, killer.” You teased.

“I’m Karen Page and I’m guessing you’re not a nurse. Who are you?” Karen answered, taking a defensive stance in front of Frank.

“Nobody. She’s nobody.” Frank answered.

“Hey.” You snapped and glared at Frank, who purposefully looked away from everyone.

“Yeah, I’m the nobody that came to get you out.” Amy answered and went to the cuffs opposite of Karen. You shook your head with a small, amused smile before following behind her and staying at her side.

She fiddled with the locks before Frank tried to snatch his arm away. You grabbed his wrist purposefully and sent a flare of anger towards your palm, enough that he groaned and offered you a glare of his own. Amy explained to Karen the bounty on all of you when Dinah Madani walked in.

“Fucking hell.” You muttered, turning to the woman and crossing your arms.

“Gang’s all here.” She said in greeting.

“What do you want, Dinah?” You asked sharply while Frank insisted on Amy being taken away and protected.

Karen and Dinah went back and forth about the situation and Amy. You didn’t intend on stepping in, given both women had a right to be annoyed with so much that they didn’t know, but a snide comment about Amy’s sticky fingers made you.

“Okay, you know what.” You commented loudly. “She may be a little klepto, but if you’ve got a problem with anyone in this room, you can take it up with me. You don’t get to sit on a high horse anymore, got it?”

“You really wanna do this now, Y/L/N?”

“You say that like I need backup to knock you on your ass.”

“Not like you fair well without it.”

“Look at that.” You smirked. “All it takes is you getting shot in the head and a skeleton out the closet for you to grow a backbone. Tell me, again. Who was the one that actually drew blood from Russo?”

“Enough.” Karen tried but that didn’t stop the hand that was already on its way to your pocket. “Why are hitmen after you?”

“It’s a long story.” You snapped, not looking away from Dinah.

“And she’ll tell you when you get her and the kid outta here.” Frank continued and you scoffed. “You know I’m right, Y/N. It’s not safe for any of you to be here.”

“I don’t need safe.” You argued over your shoulder. “What I need is for y-“

“Can’t you just-“ Amy tried loudly. She came around you and stood in between your standoff with Dinah. Hesitantly, you withdrew your hand and took a step back. “Can’t you wave your stupid badge around and get him out?”

“No.” She said firmly.

Amy turned to you, desperation hiding behind her eyes. “Can you?”

“My badge doesn’t mean shit anymore, kiddo.” You answered sadly. “Otherwise I would’ve had everything cleared by now.”

She let out a loud sigh of frustration and went back to fighting with the handcuffs. “Then someone’s gonna need to help me get him out. Otherwise he dies either way, in here or in jail.”

Karen and Amy began muttering a plan when Dinah stepped aside for a call. You watched her for a moment and the tension in her body gave it away. You snapped your fingers to get the conversation behind you to stop and you snatched Dinah’s phone from her hand. You put it on speaker and Billy’s voice came from the other side.

“…no matter how many cops you surround him with. Are you gonna visit him every day?” The broken man taunted. “Like you visited me?”

You opened your mouth to speak but Dinah beat you to it.

“So why don’t you come here, Billy? Join the party?” She asked.

“Can he hear me?”

“Yes.”

“How’s it feel, Frankie? To be locked up in a cage like an animal? To be confined to a room with nothing but your miserable thoughts to comfort you? Nothing temporary about that pain. It’s like a waking death, like you’re burning in hell… Yeah, yeah, you’re your own devil now, Frankie Boy. And you are no better than me.”

Your head cocked in interest. You're no better than me. Why did that matter to Billy, if Frank was or wasn’t, or even if Frank believed he was or wasn’t?

“You done, Bill?” Frank finally spoke. His voice was cold, distant. Miserable, almost.

“No, you. You’re done!” Billy screamed. “And every day you’ll remember that I’m the one that put you there.”

“But you didn’t.” You spoke up, brows knitting as you remembered that night. “The guys you ran with did more damage than you did…”

“There she is.” He sounded almost proud. You hated that he felt he knew you still. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised you’re still at his side. Not like you have anyone else, right? No place in the world. Isn’t that what you said?”

You could feel three pairs of eyes on you. Karen, Dinah, Amy. Frank was still looking at the phone.

“Right.” You agreed tightly. “But you realize that doesn’t bode well for you.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Nothing’s stopping me from burying a knife so deep in your chest it’ll come out the other side.” You threatened. “I can put so many bullets in you that no one would recognize what’s being buried. I’m sure you’d want a closed casket anyway, given those nasty scars.”

He laughed dryly and your empty hand clenched into a fist. “When are you gonna give it up, hmm? I win, Y/N. I win.”

“Not yet. Not until I’m dead.”

The call ended after that. You handed Dinah her phone without looking at her. Instead, you waited for Frank to meet your eyes. He wouldn’t and all it did was deepen the divide you could feel growing between you two.

Frank was punishing himself for those women, but in your bones, you knew it was wrong. That certainty was seering through you, sharper than you had felt anything before. You tried picturing the scene but everything seemed to be missing pieces. Where were the blood

splatters? Where were the entry wounds? Were the women lying in puddles of blood when you found them?

Your chest began to rise and fall quickly and the certainty shifted to something else, something wild. Trying to piece together the missing facts played into the unpredictability that came with Billy’s return and it tightened around your throat. It constricted your chest until you felt you couldn’t breathe.

You slipped out of the room and away from everyone until you made it outside. You took a deep breath and tried to focus, to see through the blurring scenery around you, but you couldn’t. You felt trapped. You dropped to the nearest bench and bent over, putting your head between your knees.

Your eyes closed and behind your lids, gray wisps danced and teased you by creating the outlines of the dead women. If you were alone, you would’ve screamed. Instead, you forced all of it down to your palms. It stuck to the circular scar on your wrist instead. Your other hand grabbed it as you righted yourself and leaned against the building.

Your scar seemed to pulse with the intense emotions but you didn’t know what to do with them. You could turn it to anger but what would you burn? Sadness but what would you cool? Fear but what would the bitter taste change? You let go of your wrist and looked down at it in defeat. Beneath your skin, you saw the rolling waves of gray moving like water. It made you shiver.

“Everything okay?” Karen asked. Your head snapped up and your friend was looking at you with concern in your eyes and Dinah in tow. “You snuck out.”

“Just needed to think.” You shrugged as each woman took a seat on either side of you. “Something’s not right about this.”

“Yeah..”

“Why would it matter to be better than Frank?”

“It’s a game, Y/L/N.” Dinah said firmly. “You know Billy just wants to get back at you and Frank so he’s messing with your head.”

“I can’t stop thinking that it was all planned.” You continued. “The women at Valhalla get escorted out the main room. Why were they in that office? And why did Billy lead Frank there? If he didn’t have the women leave, he would’ve known they were there.”

“There’s a lot about the crime scene that doesn’t add up…” Dinah agreed.

“And Billy calling like that. It means something, right?” Karen looked to you.

“I think so.” You nodded. “If I had just looked closer at their bodies…”

“It’s Mahoney’s case.” Dinah added. “He’s not gonna let either of us in close enough. I know I wouldn’t if it were the other way around.”

“If there is even the slightest chance that Frank didn’t do this, we have to check it out.” Karen urged. “C’mon, Y/N/N, you owe him that much.”

There it was again. Someone saying you owed Frank something. You weren’t really sure if you did or didn’t when it came down to it. Sure, he could’ve killed you when you first met, but it was in his best interest not to. He could’ve let you die at the carousel, but he fought tooth and nail for you to live because it was his vendetta too. He could’ve left you at Valhalla, but he took the beating so you didn’t have to because it was his unfinished business. Yet every time, the first priority seemed to be your wellbeing. Your survival.

“Dinah, you talked to his psych.” You turned to her. “What did you talk about?”

“Just that to understand one you had to understand the other.” She shrugged. “We talked about their differences and how Frank was better than Billy because-“

“You’re no better than me. That’s what Billy said on the phone.” You pointed out firmly. “She knows where he stays and she still talks to him. You gave her exactly what Billy needed.”

“What are you saying?” Karen asked.

“It’s the center of gravity approach. You don’t attack someone directly but you go after what’s most important to them. For Frank, his code. For me…” You rubbed the tattoo at the back of your neck. “It’s the same tactic Fisk used against me. It’s something I used for years. It works, clearly.”

“Frank seemed pretty sure back there.” Dinah countered.

“But it doesn’t feel right.”

“Besides, you know you can’t accuse Krista of aiding and abetting or collusion without proof.”

“You’re on a first name basis now?” You accused and she sighed slightly.

“What if I can get us in the morgue?” Karen offered. “To take a look at the bodies.”

Your brows furrowed for a second before you nodded quietly. She returned the gesture and you both looked to Dinah. Her eyes went between you two in confusion before she sighed and agreed with her own nod. After a moment, you all followed Karen.

She took you to the morgue and introduced you - as FBI Special Agent Y/L/N - to the man at the desk, Ed. You smiled politely and shook his hand, but you were distracted by the man’s lack of shoes. Karen began to convince the man but he was still hesitant.

Before you could work magic of your own, Karen agreed to some unspoken request. You quirked a brow at the man’s giddy response but opted to stay quiet, if only to ensure you didn’t ruin anything. She turned and offered you a tight, uncomfortable smile, and you found some relief in knowing that what she had agreed to was a last ditch effort. You nodded and Ed guided you three to the bodies.

He gave a quick rundown but you tuned his words out. Everything inside the small room seemed to buzz, filling your head with an expectancy that manifested as pressure. No taste, no tingle, no colored mist. Just suffocating, engulfing pressure that felt like it would break through your ribs if you breathed too deeply.

Karen’s voice cut through the buzzing but the words didn’t make it to your ears. You dared to lean in closer, gently prodding near the bullet wounds. Ed reached out to stop you but you batted his hands away. As you palpated the dead woman’s stomach, you felt a twist of nausea. This was still a person, after all. You shook your head slightly and willed yourself to focus, to see past the lost life and find the evidence you needed.

“Gun powder.” You muttered.

“Yes!” Ed’s voice came to you like the ringing of a church bell and you almost winced at the sudden clarity. “The grains of it on her skin means she was hit at close range. Any of these would’ve been fatal.”

“But Castle wasn’t…” You trailed off, gently pining your arms back to your side. “What about the trajectory?”

“Exit wound was straight out, parallel to the ground. Someone stood right in front of this girl and unloaded right into her.”

“And that’s the same with all three?” Dinah asked. Another voice too loud. This time your head cocked and you winced mildly.

“Yeah.”

You pressed your lips together into a tight line to keep the relieved laugh down. You nodded in thanks to Ed before gesturing for Dinah and Karen to cross the room with you.

“Those women were executed.” You said quietly. “Frank didn’t do this.”

“Well, is this enough to convince him?” Karen asked.

“It’d hold up in court.” You nodded. “It has to.”

You and your friends tried to leave but Ed blocked the doorway. He kept his eyes downward, at your feet. You rolled your eyes slightly and had to refrain from kicking him in the shin. He just might like it. He was rambling about some no-so-nice nickname but you simply shoved past him with a quiet apology. You assumed Dinah was quickly behind you but you didn’t look back to see if Karen was with you or holding up whatever bargain she struck with Ed.

You nodded to the few workers on the floor, but you passed the officer that had been posted at the door. He told you about the shift change and to show your Bar ID to the new guy. You didn’t show it, but that feeling of something out of place settled in your stomach. You moved a little faster but the shouts from Frank’s room drove you to a full-on sprint.

You brandished your switchblade as you came up to the door. You threw your shoulder against the man that had Amy pinned to the ground and you two tumbled a few feet before knocking into the wall. You heard Amy’s coughs as she scrambled to her feet, Dinah and Karen talking over each other, Frank shouting for the man to go back to him. You were stuck under the faux officer’s weight and he kept a firm grip of the wrist for the hand holding the switch. You winced as his finger dug into the scar but your free hand scratched at his throat.

Deep red lines followed the path of your nails and he cried out, jerking his head to get away from your reach. His other hand pushed down on your throat and for a second, you were hit with the memory of a fight that felt like a lifetime again. Pinned under a fake officer, hands at your throat, all for someone that was the game changer you needed. Only there was no Man in the Mask coming to your rescue.

You blinked away the memory and turned your head to find your small knife. You wiggled it around in your fingers until you were able to change the angle of your blade. You watched the tip press against his wrist and you jerked your hand, shoving the sharp metal through his skin and bone. The very tip poked out the other side and the man cried out wildly. You slammed a knee upward and connected with either his stomach or his groin but his position faltered and you were able to throw him off. You righted yourself quickly and grabbed his head, slamming him to the floor until he fell unconscious.

“Yeah, thanks for the help.” You wheezed, glaring at Dinah.

Amy kicked the unconscious man with a made up not-quite curse word and you laughed breathlessly. After that, she fell against you and you wrapped one arm around her shoulders while the other hand rubbed your throat.

“What was that, huh?” Amy stepped away and yelled. Your brows raised at the outburst but you said nothing. “You were just gonna let him kill you?”

“What the hell, Frank?” You added, a rasp still in your voice.

“Frank, you didn’t do it.” Karen explained quickly.

“What are you talking about?” He asked tightly, but you didn’t miss that underlying hope.

“They were dead before you got there.” Dinah added.

Frank turned to you for confirmation.

“Exit wounds were straight through. Gunpowder still on their skin.” You nodded.

“But I- We were…”

“I know.” You urged. “It was a setup. I can’t prove this but I know Billy killed them. I thought those ladies were being escorted out before I met with you but they were walked to their executions.”

“You sure about that?” Frank finally met your eyes and the suffocating grip deep in your chest loosened enough for a full breath.

“He wanted to break you. He wanted to take away what mattered most to you and he damn near did.”

“You’re not the monster, Frank.” Karen added gently. “You never were.”

“This is great and all but what is that gonna for us right now?” Amy asked tensely. “That was a cop that just tried to kill him! What’s next, a nurse?”

At that point, everyone began talking over each other. Frank wanted out of the cuffs to kill the cop. Dinah was calling him an idiot. Karen wanted a plan. Amy was looking between everyone like a deer in headlights.

“Just shut up!” You shouted. You saw the white wave roll out of your chest and hit everyone in the room and you immediately regretted the lapse of control. Your power took hold of all four people and settled them to an eerie level of calmness. “Sorry.” You muttered when the glassy look left their eyes and they were in control of themselves again.

“What the hell?” Amy mumbled.

“Give us the room.” You told Amy and Dinah. “Just a minute, okay?”

Hesitantly, they left so you and Karen were the only ones in the room.

“Does that Matt Murdock know you’re here?” Frank asked Karen.

She looked to you and you gave a small shake of your head. Of course Matt didn’t know where you were, just the vague idea that you were in town and stuck in the middle of a dangerous war.

“What does that have to do with this?” She answered. “Come on, Karen.” He sighed. “He’s good. Don’t throw that away for me, either of you.”

“Matt trusts me to make my own choices as to what fight I’m in.” You said sharply as Karen undid the cuffs. “I expected you to do the same.”

“And it killed you last time, didn’t it?” He spat back before focusing back on Karen. “Walk away, Karen.”

She said nothing.

“Look, I know you both.” He began and you rolled your eyes. “You’re brave. You’re strong. But you’re both so goddamned stubborn that you will throw everything away for me and I cannot let that happen.”

You took a step forward but Karen reached for your arm.

“So they can risk everything but not me?” She said then gestured to you. “Not her?”

“Don’t do that, okay? That kid needs me to stay alive. Madani, she’s as batshit and lost as I am. And Y/N?” He locked eyes with you. “Billy beat her so bad her heart stopped. He gets the chance again, no one’s gonna be able to restart it.”

“Да пошла ты.” You spat. (Fuck you.)

Karen continued trying to reason with him but you put your hands up in defeat, letting them fall back against your legs. You began pacing while they talked, registering their voices but not their words. You looked down and noticed she was barefoot, Was that what she agreed upon with Ed? Her shoes.

No wonder they called him Creepy Ed.

“I gotta walk outta here and you can’t do it with me.” Frank said quietly and when you looked back, he was standing a few inches from Karen.

You wanted to give both of them the push they needed, to admit that unspoken thing between them and finally break the tension, but it also felt wrong to do it to friends. You had no problem in college playing up on a new couple’s emotions. Back then it was like your special version of people watching, but it just felt like crossing a line to do it to them. Luckily, the door opened before your power could start reaching.

Karen left first, offering you one questioning look. All you could do was nod. You retrieved your switchblade and wiped it on the officer’s uniform before you tucked it back into your pocket, replacing your blazer to hide your gun. You helped Dinah get Frank to the stairwell while Amy played her role as a nurse to blend into the crowd. Dinah split from you at the base of the stairs and you kept with Frank.

He leaned heavily on you and you were just outside the hospital when Brett cut you off. You cursed quietly while he yelled instructions to drop your weapons. You released Frank so he could drop the cop’s belt and you put your hands up in surrender, slipping your fingers to pull two pins from your hair. The small pieces of metal dropped down either sleeve just before Brett snatched one of your wrists. As he pulled your arms down and behind your back, the pins slid out and landed in your palms. You slipped the thin metal into the latch for the cuffs so they didn’t quite lock while he was muttering about obstruction and how it was only a matter of time before he had to cuff you.

He locked Frank’s other cuff around one of the handrails in the back before he shoved you inside. Frank met your eyes with an apologetic expression but you smiled.

You hadn’t lost quite yet.

girlhood is staying up late to read the top posts in an x reader tag

Evermore

Chapter 34. Me, a name I call myself

Previous chapter

Masterlist

This chapter is largely setting the scene for what is to come, brace yourselves <3

pairing: Pietro Maximoff x OFC

warnings: Some angst, canon-typical violence, forgiveness, Bucky Barnes needs a break

“I think perhaps it’s time we address what you remember about your time with Hydra.” Dr. Norris said.

“Haven’t we already done that?”

He flicked through his notebook until he found the page he was looking for, scanning his notes before glancing back at me. “We’ve been over it, but we never appropriately addressed one of the main breakthroughs we made… you said you remember the man in the lab coat telling you where you were born, the date, and your name. That suggests perhaps this was sort of the conditioning; sort of them removing who you were.”

I opened my mouth but closed it again soon after, unsure how to respond. Of course it had crossed my mind, but I’d never really allowed the thought to linger for long. His words sent me reeling, lost in my own thoughts. They threatened to overcome me, it felt like sitting in a vat of honey or molasses, swimming through it was fruitless but the more I wadded the more my limbs grew weary but the sticky, unyielding insanity promised to suffocate me if I sat in it too long. It was only a matter of time before I had to address the elephant in the room, the niggling thought that had lived at the back of my mind for months.

I didn’t know what it was that made this small piece of the puzzle feel especially daunting. Perhaps it was that this was the one thing left of me that hadn’t been up for debate. The one constant even when my mind was muddled and tampered with my name was still mine, even when everything else was stripped from me. “Okay,” I murmured, leaning back in my chair.

“Great. Let’s begin by going back to the room where you were kept for conditioning, then throughout our next sessions we’ll try to dig deeper into your memories from before.”

When I stepped out of the room it felt like my head was underwater, everything was a little distant and muffled. I felt the sun on my flesh as I passed the large floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the corridor, it kept me

“Nads, there you are!” Natasha’s voice pulled me from my reverie.

“Here I am.” I murmured in response. The moment she asked me what I had planned for tomorrow I realized why she was looking for me. “I am not going to Vienna for the United Nations meeting.” I crossed my arms over my chest, resolve evident across my features.

She sighed exasperatedly. “Come on, please!” I turned and began to walk away. “Why so stubborn? You always used to love playing diplomat with me.” She spoke, falling into step beside me.

I shot her an icy glance. “That was a long time ago. Plus, neither of us had a say in it back then, it was all just an assignment.”

Natasha moved to step in front of me, cutting off my path forward. The expression on my face did nothing to deter her. “I know you’d rather be literally anywhere else than in a room with a bunch of world leaders and politician-types, especially given how close to home this all is. Trust me, I understand that completely, but Steve is otherwise indisposed, and I don’t want to do this alone.” The softness in her gaze and the furrow of her brow dripped sincerity and she obviously knew exactly how to wear down my resistance. “Nadia, please. I need you to have my back in Vienna.”

I sighed heavily, giving her an unimpressed look. “You are very annoying, you know that.” A smile spread over her lips at my evident defeat in this matter. I rolled my eyes at the glee she did not even attempt to hide.

“So?”

Another sigh. “I’ve got your back.”

…

I could not believe I’d let her talk me into this. The reality dawned on me as I leaned back into the seat of the plane, watching out the window as the blueness of the sky, dappled by powdery white clouds surrounded us. I attempted to think of something other than the deliberations that awaited us in Vienna. Though, when my mind managed to stray from that, the thoughts were not preferable. Recollections of the white walls, the man telling me all the details of my life, Norris suggesting that everything I’ve known to be true about myself may actually just be a character that was created for me. So, I decided not to think about that either. That left only one other pressing thought.

Pietro had done as I’d asked, taking me to his room and unloading every moment of his communications with Hydra. I had anticipated that he’d be willing to unburden himself about everything he’d shared with them. What I hadn’t been expecting was for him to go into the back of his closet and dig through a torn leather satchel that was hidden at the back, procuring a thick manilla folder.

He placed it into my hands and dropped down beside me in the bed. I stared at it for a long moment, sick to death of seeing these damn folders, it seemed nothing good ever came out of them. Finally, I flipped it open to read through its contents.

“Most of it is just the stuff you already saw. There’s only one other.” I flipped through the pages until I reached the final one. He had taken notes about me after the shipyard it seemed, he’d just never sent them. At first, it was just a continuation of what I’d said and done in the shipyard, he wrote about overhearing me talking about the Graduation Ceremony after Wanda had manipulated my mind. Then it went into a few basic bites about the fight with Ultron on the train. ‘Nadia is persistent, and unyielding, even when fighting something physically enhanced, she keeps fighting. After every hit, she would stand back up and keep fighting’ It stopped there, halfway through a line as if he’d paused mid-thought. That was the last thing he’d written. I closed the folder, leaning forward on my knees slightly as I thought about everything I’d read. There was a part of me that felt freed by seeing it all firsthand, reading everything he’d written, airing the entirety of the secret. The other part of me was still held back by one small factor; he’d kept his notes. I knew it was likely not premeditated and it should really be meaningless, but for some reason, there was this nagging feeling in the back of my mind that wouldn’t let it go.

“In the Red Room they… sterilized us, removing our uterus was the final step to eliminating weakness and distraction. A reminder of what they had molded us for, the singular path we were given.” Pietro was completely silent as I spoke, barely even breathing. I turned my head to meet his eyes. “They called it the Graduation Ceremony.” He swallowed heavily as those two words passed my lips, eyes shutting tightly, and his head fell into his hands. I wasn’t sure why I’d told him that, why I needed him to know that. I threw the folder down onto the bed, moving to my feet. “That is what I saw when Wanda was in my head.”

“Nadia, I-”

“Do not apologize again, Pietro.” I took a deep breath, angered by how shaky my exhale felt. “Why did you stop there? Why not you send this too?”

His beautiful blue eyes were filled with tears when he lifted his head. Exhaustion was evident in the dark circles that surrounded them. He looked utterly defeated as he gazed at me. He shrugged weakly. “I guess things felt different then. When I agreed to send Hydra intel, I was filled with so much rage I didn’t know what to do with it. It nearly consumed me, the anger and hatred. I just wanted to hold someone accountable for all of our suffering. Back then, all I really knew about you was that you were an Avenger, it was easy to lump you into the blame I had for them. At first, anyway, but then I actually talked to you.” He swallowed heavily, looking down again. “In the shipyard, you said that you didn’t look at me because you did not want to hurt me, even after all the trouble Wanda and I had already caused. You kept your eyes closed when I could have hurt you, you made yourself vulnerable in front of me rather than risk harming me. That is who you are, Nadia, and I saw it in that moment. I tried to hold onto my resentment by writing another letter, but I couldn’t send it because I knew who you really were.” I thought of the day on the train, the feeling of the window cracking beneath my flesh as Ultron pinned me to the wall.  The pain of my head being jammed between his metal hand and the cool glass. I recalled the relief that rushed through my body when Pietro pulled him away. “You said you don’t hate me, but I would understand if you did.”

“That’s really pathetic.” It was mean and I only said it because I wanted him to stop looking so completely shattered because it was killing me. We had made a deal that I would stop lashing out to push him away but, in that moment, it was all I could do to hold onto my resolve. The worst part is the way my voice turned breathy and weak along the word pathetic, I couldn’t even stand by my own words; not when my eyes were stinging again and all I wanted was for things to go back to the way they were.

“I know.” He murmured, tears streaming down his cheeks. “And I don’t care. I don’t care how pathetic I sound when I’m begging you not to walk away over this stupid fucking mistake I made. I have never felt this way about any other person in my entire life, the thought of you leaving destroys me so no I don’t care if it’s pathetic I’ll do whatever you want me to. Just tell me what to do to make this better.”

I watched him cry before me, seemingly stuck to this spot on the floor. I racked my brain for the answer that felt right. What could he do to make this better? How could this be fixed. I thought just knowing everything would suddenly absolve it all but now I wasn’t sure it had. It was hard to know what would fix it or even if it could be fixed but then I considered the rest of what he’d said, and I couldn’t deny that the thought of walking away was the most excruciating of all. I didn’t know what the solution was, but I knew that I was incapable of leaving him like this, so I closed the distance between us and wiped his tears away with the back of my hand. My forehead fell to lean against his.

“You can’t ever lie to me like that again.”

I rubbed at my temples, urging the ache that had sat beneath my eye sockets for days to give me a moment's peace. At some point, I managed to fall asleep and after a fitful sleep filled with memories of Hydra and the pages of information Pietro had written about me, I awoke to the feeling of our plane touching down on the tarmac.

The air that tousled my hair was chilly but the warmth of the sun softened its icy caress. Water dripped leisurely from tree branches as the ice faded and made way for new growth. That night I lay atop one of the plush beds, watching Natasha as she dipped the tip of her index finger into a little round jar of face cream before smoothing it over her skin. “I can practically hear the gears turning in your head from how hard you’re thinking over there.” She met my eyes in the vanity mirror, prompting a sigh from me.

My eyes trailed upward to the ceiling as I attempted to gather my thoughts. “What do you really think about all of this? The Sokovia Accords.”

There was a long moment of silence before Natasha filled it. “Honestly, I’m not really sure.”

“Neither am I.” I looked back at her when I heard her turn around in the chair. “What you said back at the compound about keeping one hand on the wheel, I agree.”

“But?”

“But… Cap had a point too. Governments always have an agenda and if we sign the accords, we become subject to that. More than subject, we become an extension of it.” Her eyes fell shut for a moment before she reopened them and nodded. “What if they really do stop us from intervening somewhere we should? This doesn’t feel like unifying with the government, it feels like completely relinquishing control.”

She nodded again. “Or the opposite, we’re forced to intervene where we shouldn’t.”

“And then there’s that,” I muttered, looking down at my hands. “All of it just feels…”

“Familiar?” When our eyes met, I knew that we were having the same thought. “But maybe our history is where most of the trepidation is coming from. Maybe things will be different. I mean you and I both agree that things have been a little out of control lately.”

Her words did little to soothe me, though I nodded, nonetheless. “Maybe.”

“Let’s just get through the signing tomorrow and get a little outside perspective, then go from there. Staying together is more important than how we stay together, right.”

I hummed, leaning back against the plush pillows lining the head of the bed. The sound of my nails tapping against the wooden side table was the only sound now. My head was beginning to ache with the incessant thoughts rattling around. Natasha’s eyes still lingered on me, evidently sensing that the accords were not the only thing on my mind. “Do you remember the day we met? We were locked in a shipping container, and you asked me where I was from, what did I say?”

“Yeah, of course, you told me you were from St. Petersburg.”

“How do you remember it easily?”

She shrugged. “Well, not many of us knew where we’d come from so it's not like I had a lot of birthplaces to keep track of.”

“Right, but I knew where I’d come from.” I continued to drum my fingers across the side table. “You asked me again in Portugal, you were just trying to keep me from passing out so you could finish removing the bullet from my leg, but you asked me where I was from again and I couldn’t remember.” One final click of my nail against the wood sounded through the room before I stopped, sitting up again to face Nat. “Why would I have remembered the first time but not the second?”

“Portugal was years later, maybe you’d just forgotten as you got older?”

I shook my head. “But I remembered again after that. I believed that I was from St. Petersburg every day up until now.”

“You don’t believe that anymore?”

“I don’t know what I believe.”

The sky was completely grey overhead the next day, almost forebodingly ominous as Natasha and I entered the conference center for the UN meeting. I fiddled with the sleeve of my blazer; palms sweating profusely. This was certainly not the first time we’d played this role, Natasha was right when she said I’d once found moonlighting as a foreign diplomat enticing but this felt completely different because the outcome of today would shape the future of the Avengers. Even with so much on the line, it still felt like yet another role I had to play.

“It’s going to be fine; you’ve got my back, and I’ve got yours, we’re just here to listen and sign some papers.”

I nodded at her, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear to busy my hands. When a blonde woman approached asking for some signatures prior to the commencement of the conference I shared a brief look with Natasha, offering to take care of it. Really, I just wanted something to busy my mind with, fearing that idle hands would only worsen my twitching.

After I’d signed what seemed liked a hundred different documents all just regarding legitimacy and confidentiality a voice sounded over the P.A. system announcing the beginning of the meeting. I found Natasha speaking to King T’Chaka and Prince T’Challa of Wakanda when I returned. Both men offered me a kind smile and respectful greeting as I approached. I returned the favor, mustering a few gentle words of introduction before following Natasha to our seats.

It was King T’Chaka who spoke first at the conference. “When stolen Wakandan vibranium was used to make a terrible weapon, we in Wakanda were forced to question our legacy. Those men and women killed in Nigeria were part of a good-willed mission from a country too long in the shadows. We will not, however, let misfortune drive us back. We will fight to improve the world we wish to join. I am grateful to the Avengers for supporting this initiative.” I swallowed heavily, looking down at the table before me, this was the right thing to do, I reminded myself of it over and over. My nails dug into the skin of my palm as he continued, his points sounding genuine, infallible. My eyes trailed over to his son who glanced over his shoulder out the floor-to-ceiling windows lining the wall behind him. I narrowed my eyes at him as I saw his own twitch slightly, something outside had clearly drawn his attention. “Wakanda is proud to extend its hand in peace-”

The king had barely gotten the words out before his son came running toward him, shouting for everyone to get down. I grabbed the woman beside me, pulling her under the table with me as Natasha did the same. The crack of the explosion was rivaled only by the sound of glass shattering and smoke billowing. Where there had been the detonation of sound and light there was now nothing at all as unconsciousness lured me into its embrace.

When my eyes opened once more it was with a gasp followed by an abrupt cough as smoke filled my lungs. Flames licked at every surface they could reach, and ashen debris fell all around. My eyes were blurry, my ears ringing as I surveyed the room. Natasha grabbed a hold of my hand; I could see her mouth moving but it was all muffled. The area was surrounded by police and reporters by the time we stumbled out toward a bench, gasping into the fresh air. King T’Chaka was dead and so were 12 other people. Sirens filled the air as the range of different authorities cordoned off the area.

“Can you hear me now?” Natasha asked. The ringing was still there but much less prevalent now as I swiveled to face her on the bench.

I nodded. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve been better.” She murmured, to which I quickly agreed.

“What the fuck just happened?”

She rubbed at the soot smeared across her cheek. “They think it was the Winter Soldier, say he planted a bomb.”

I closed my eyes tightly, scrubbing a hand over my face.

It wasn’t long before T’Challa collapsed onto the bench beside ours. He faced forward, shoulders drooping, eyes haunted. I sat a little more upright, fighting the dizziness making my head spin. “I’m very sorry for your loss,” I spoke to him, watching as he fiddled with a silver ring with intricate carvings. He looked at me for only a split second before looking forward again.

“In my culture, death is not the end. It’s more of a stepping-off point. You reach out with both hands and Bast and Sekhmet, they lead you into the green veldt where you can run forever.”

I nodded, taking a moment to process his words. “That sounds very peaceful.”

“My father thought so.” He slipped the ring onto his own finger as he spoke and I could see the shift in his eyes, the pure agony thinly veiled by rage. “I am not my father.”

“T’Challa, the task force will decide who brings in Barnes.”

He stood abruptly. “Don’t bother, Ms Pimenova, I’ll kill him myself.” He was walking away before I could dissuade him further and the lingering headache was rearing its head in an especially painful way now. I rubbed at my temples, attempting to soothe the pain. Natasha calling my name brought my attention back. She held her phone between us, answering and putting it on speaker.

“Are you both alright?” Cap asked.

“Yeah, thanks, we were lucky,” Nat responded, the sound of an ambulance echoing over the speaker just as one raced by had us sharing a conspiratorial look.

I shook my head, returning to massaging my temples. “We know how much Barnes means to you, Steve. We do, but you’re only going to make this worse for all of us.”

“Are you saying you’ll arrest me?”

Natasha spoke up then. “No… but someone will. If you interfere, that’s how it works now.

“If he’s this far gone then I should be the one to bring him in.”

There was no persuading him, that much was obvious from the tone of his voice. I rolled my neck, bones clicking with each movement. The buzzing of my phone distracted me from Natasha reasoning attempts at reasoning with Steve. When I managed to slide it from my pocket, I was surprised to see only one small crack across the corner of the glass rather than an array across the screen. The phone lit up to reveal a full voicemail and dozens of missed calls, Pietro claiming the majority of it. I tilted it toward Nat so she could see what I was doing before I clicked the familiar contact ID, standing from the bench to wander out of earshot.

“I’m okay,” I said the moment the line connected.

Pietro’s exhale was so heavy through the phone I could almost feel the whisper of his breath over my skin. “Jesus, Nadia, is it too much to ask that you go a few months without almost getting killed?”

“Well, now that sounds an awful lot like victim blaming.”

“You’re not funny.”

I ran a hand through my hair, shaking loose a few pieces of debris. “Not even a little?”

There was a beat of silence between us. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m really alright, I promise, a little sore but nothing to worry about.”

He said okay. “Just… call me later, please, just to keep me in the loop.”

I couldn’t fight the way my lips tugged upwards at his words. Even from thousands of miles away, the sincerity of his voice felt like a warm embrace. He took a deep breath, signaling that he was preparing to hang up. “Pietro,” I spoke suddenly, my mouth moving almost before my mind had time to catch up.

“Nadia.” He murmured.

“I miss you. Thank you for calling.” There was a moment of silence before he echoed my sentiment. “I’ll talk to you later.”

The moment of basking was short-lived as Natasha appeared before me, a grave expression across her features. I made a sound of frustration. “You take T’Challa, I’ll handle Cap?” She nodded at me.

“Let’s see if we can’t clean up this mess.”

…

Steve Rogers was not nearly as stealthy as he thought he was, though perhaps that was an unfair critique given that this type of work was my forte. I tracked him to the café with little trouble, watching as Sharon slid a file across the bench in an act of defiance that could most definitely get her fired. The moment she’d departed I slipped through the small crowd and sidled up beside Sam.

“You know for someone whose whole brand is basically being a stickler for the rules, you sure seem comfortable bending them,” I spoke, propping my chin up on my fist atop the counter. Sam flinched hard, whipping around to face me.

“Where the hell did you come from?”

I merely rose an eyebrow at him, as if to say ‘really?’ before turning my gaze to Steve who adjusted the cap on his head with a sigh that was brimming with exasperation. “Don’t try to talk me out of it, Nadia.”

“What exactly is the plan here? Walk in and ask politely for Barnes to surrender. Because, no offense, Cap, but that is a really stupid idea. Almost as stupid as this disguise. Seriously, baseball cap and sunglasses? You look suspicious as shit; you’d be more under the radar in that ridiculous blue super suit of yours.”

He narrowed his eyes at me, setting his jaw as he listened, Sam choosing not to engage, though I saw the upward twitch of his lips. “Are you done?” I shrugged, choosing to swallow the last few taunts about his disguise, not the time. “I know you don’t trust him. You have every right to feel that way, but you said that you understand what he means to me. So don’t try to stand in my way, because it isn’t going to work.”

“I know.” My words gave him pause, mouth slightly open still, as if on the brink of repeating himself. “At no point on the way over here was I expecting to change your mind on this. Your plan of action here is undoubtedly flawed and I seriously think you should rethink your disguises in the future but that doesn’t mean I’m letting you walk into Barnes’ den alone.”

Sam scoffed. “What am I? Chopped liver?”

I tsked. “You’ll be busy keeping an eye out from above little birdy.” I taunted before looking back at Cap. “I know I can’t talk you out of going, just like you can’t talk me out of having your back.”

He still tried, though his attempts were half-hearted, resigned to my determination. Or perhaps he really believed that Barnes had changed, I knew that was a large part of why he was so committed to this, he couldn’t let go of the man he knew, he needed to see it for himself once and for all. That wouldn’t be an easy pill to swallow, this was part of why I was so set on accompanying him. If things went south or he found himself unable to let go, I’d have no qualms intervening.

As I’d suspected, his plan was incredibly underdeveloped, relying mostly on the goodness of Barnes’ heart. Yet, I followed Steve into the decrepit apartment, nonetheless. The wallpaper was stained and peeling at the corners, and the windows were mostly boarded up or covered by cardboard and newspaper. It was a mess, with various empty food containers and newspapers strewn about. I pushed a pile of paper aside with my foot before glancing up at Steve. “Nice digs,” I muttered. The creak of the floorboards signaling a new presence had me whipping around, spine straightening immediately. He was unkempt, his hair grown out and stubble covering his jaw, but I knew him the moment I saw him. I leaned onto my back foot, taking half a step back.

He seemed different, less icy super soldier, more twitchy; uneasy. As small and troubled as he appeared, I still felt the hair on my arms stand. His blue-gray eyes had been set on me from the moment he entered. “Do you know me?” Steve asked.

Barnes nodded, eyes momentarily shifting to the blond man in his blue, red, and white armor. The freedom from his gaze was short-lived as he looked at me again.

He swallowed heavily, he was like a cornered animal, waiting for attack. I wondered if it was Steve he was afraid of. Or perhaps his impending arrest. Maybe it was me. I was certainly frightened of him. I stood tall, nerves strung tightly but my heart was thumping quickly in my chest and my palms were sweating. “Do you remember me?” He nodded again, eyes casting downward now. “What, don’t you speak anymore?” I managed.

“I know both of you.” He even sounded different. Less gruff, no harsh words spat in Russian. “I read about you at the museum.” He gestured toward Steve then. I knew that must have stung, they’d been friends, it couldn’t have been easy to not be remembered by someone he cared so dearly for; someone he’d risk his reputation and life for. “And we were in the Red Room together.” He nodded toward me.

“Oh, we were in the Red Room, were we?” I raised an eyebrow at him, fear being momentarily side-stepped by rage.

He looked down at his feet, Adams apple bobbing heavily and when he looked back up, he only met my gaze for a split second before looking away. His expression was difficult to read. I thought maybe it was remorse, but that seemed bizarre to me. “I trained you… in the Red Room.” He forced out. I was taken aback by the strain in his voice, I’d never heard him sound so weak. With narrowed eyes, I surveyed him, unconvinced by this shift. My mind urged me to pay attention, wait for a crack in his façade, he could not maintain this cover forever, I’d see through it. Yet, another part of me wondered if this wounded, fearful air was not some kind of ruse. It was not just remorse that I’d heard in his voice but disdain. I’d heard this tone from him before, the discontent, but back then it had been directed at me.

I ducked under the metal arm that struck out in my direction, knee scuffing over the mat as I swerved around his body, grabbing ahold of his upper arm and using it as leverage to swing my legs up and lock them around his upper torso, arms swiftly encircling his neck to put him into a chokehold. I held tight even when he threw himself backward, slamming me into the wall, I gritted my teeth and tightened my grip, body bruised and aching from the exhaustion of attempting to hold my own against someone so much larger than me. He brought his metal elbow back, whirring ringing through the room as he jammed it into my ribs so hard I cried out, losing my grip from the sudden rush of pain combined with my back colliding against the wall yet again. I fell to the mat, gripping my side but forcing myself back to my feet before he won. I kicked him in the back of the knee, but it was fruitless. He swiveled around to grab me once again, cool metal over my forehead as he yanked my head back so his free arm could wrap around my throat. The lack of air had me light-headed, tears were streaming down my cheeks, and I thrashed in his hold but at 12 years old I was no match for a military-trained super soldier. I tapped when my vision started to become spattered with black spots, the air that shot into my lungs when he freed me had me coughing uncontrollably. I rolled over on the ground to hide my tear-stained face against the mat and attempt to settle my gasping.

“Ты слаб. Такое разочарование.”

You are weak. Such a disappointment.

I walked toward one of the covered windows, peering through the crevice between the newspaper where light managed to peek through. The task force was closing in around the building, and I suspected there were people making their way to the roof as well. I could vaguely hear Steve speaking about the river and their shared past, imploring the man before him to remember, or at least to believe him. I knew Sam was in his ear, keeping him updated on the movements of the police force around us. When his eyes met mine, I knew our time was up.

“Sam’s compromised, go now.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “What the hell are you two going to do?”

Steve looked towards Barnes who seemed resigned to punching his way out. “This doesn’t have to be a fight.”

Barnes sighed, pulling the black glove from his metal hand. “It always ends in a fight.”

“Steve, this is unbelievably stupid!”

“I know, that’s why I’m not going to drag you any further into this. Go, Nadia!” He shoved me toward the door but before I could even reach for the handle glass shattered all around as the windows were breached. The door burst open at the same moment seeing several armed agents enter, I wasn’t really certain what the correct course of action was here, I had been prepared for a potential fight with the Winter Soldier, but fighting to avoid arrest for harboring a fugitive wasn’t exactly on my bingo card. As it turned out, I didn’t need to decide right now because the refrigerator was sent pummeling through the doorway, knocking down or blocking the entrance of the line of agents beelining for me. I glanced back to see Barnes already looking at me, his expression unreadable and momentary as he turned to grab his go bag from the floor. Him ever intentionally helping me was a baffling notion but right now I wasn’t in the position to dwell, instead I slipped by the fridge, moving quickly toward down the hall that led away from the stairs. When I reached the end of the hallway I slipped around the corner, pressing myself to the wall to watch as more agents ran by, heading for the destroyed apartment.

It was mildly difficult and exceptionally tedious to get out of the apartment building unscathed. But it was made much easier by the tunnel-vision officers, hunting Barnes. It wasn’t until I was halfway down the street that I realized they would now be hunting Steve as well.