Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“y/n? Are you nearly done?”

You lift your head up, out of the toilet bowl. “Think so,” you call back.

You can practically see Magnolia sighing and rolling her eyes on the other side of the door. “Okay,” she says, clipped. “It's just that this is a communal bathroom, you know, we all have to use it too. And you've been sick for, like, a month now. It's getting ridiculous.”

It had been a week since you were first forced out of bed at an ungodly hour with a need to vomit, and it had been the same ever since. You think it's getting better now, though. At least you plan on going to your classes today. You're not worried about missing learning, you have the textbooks, you can just teach yourself. But what if you have a question? What if the teacher gives out some of the best wisdom, knowledge that you only get from experience, and you miss it? With only two months left before your first exam, you need all the class time you can get.

Hopefully this bug will go away soon.

“I- I'm really sorry, Magnolia.” What else is there to say? “Five minutes and I'll be out, I promise.”

“Hmph.” Magnolia's heals clack against the floorboards as she walks away, probably to recheck she's packed all her books for that day, fix her hair so that it's just right.

There is only so much she could do when all she needs to finish getting ready is to brush her teeth, and you're the one hogging the bathroom. You really do feel bad, but your head and stomach outweigh your guilt, and before you know it, you're gagging into the toilet bowl for the millionth time that week.

Twenty minutes later, you're hurrying down the corridor and tying your tie as you try not to trip or be late for the first class you're going to in three days.

Thankfully, you get there at the same time as your very clever, very prompt housemate.

“Regulus!” You run to catch up with him, and you walk through the doors together. He frowns at the sight of you–gee, that's reassuring–but doesn't argue when you sit in the seat next to him. “I'm so happy to see you.”

“Why is that?” He doesn't look at you as he neatly places his books on the desk and reaches into his pocket for a pencil.

“I need to ask you a major favour.”

“Does it have something to do with the fact you haven't been in classes recently?”

“Yes. I have some bug or something, I can't stop throwing up. And even when I'm not throwing up, I'm just exhausted, you have no idea-”

“Yes, and I'd like to keep it that way. So can you skip to the part where I come into this?”

You smile despite his words, and continue. “Anyway. I'm still sick, but I decided I couldn't miss any more school. But I could really use your help catching up with the classes I did miss. Please?”

If you're being honest with yourself–which you are not–you don't have many friends. Or, any friends, to be frank. But Regulus was always kind. Never nice, you'd think a boy from a family like the Blacks would have better manners. But he's always been kind to you, since you were just baby-faced first years. And while you're not friends, you like to think you are familiar.

If he had a cup of water and you were on fire, you like to think he'd at least try to put you out before drinking the rest of it. You try not to think about how pathetic it is that the person closest to you in this school may or may not save your life, even if they barely had to lift a finger.

Then again, the person closest to you may be someone else. Regulus’s own brother. He has seen you naked, of course, while only one other person has since you were a baby. But you and Sirius aren't friends anymore. You never really were…friends. You did have some nice conversations. The type you think about while you lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling. Some nice sex, too. And Sirius would probably put you out if you were on fire.

But maybe he'd accidentally use tequila instead of water.

“You're still sick?”

You snap back to reality, looking at the brother of the man you were thinking about. He's looking at you with unfiltered disgust, leaning heavily against the wall. Your smile widens. “Wow, I didn't know you were a germaphobe.”

“I am not a germaphobe, forgive me if I just don't want to spend the next week in bed.”

“Oh man I wish I could've gotten away from the toilet long enough to get in bed.”

The chair screeches loudly when he stands, picking up his book with a distinct frown and crease between his eyebrows. A couple people around you look over to see what all the commotion's about.

“Relax,” you say, holding up a hand to stop him from leaving. “I'm just teasing you. I don't think it's contagious, I probably just ate something bad. None of my roommates have it, and we share a bathroom.”

A fact they keep reminding you. Well, not Elise. Not sweet Elise who brought you soup from the kitchens when you were too sick to move.

Still obviously sceptical, Regulus settles back into his seat, tucking himself back under the desk primly. “How long did you say you've been sick?” he asks, looking about ready to pull out a surgical mask and hand sanitiser from his book bag.

You sigh, remembering. “A week.”

“And it's not getting any better?”

Your arm comes round to hug your stomach almost automatically, offering a small piece of comfort to keep yourself calm in a public space. It has been a shitty week. So shitty. But you don't want to dump all of it onto Regulus. “Not really.”

Suddenly, he smirks. “You're not pregnant, are you?”

“Oh. Can you imagine?” Your first instinct is to laugh. He does, too. It was a joke. But then you think about it for more than five seconds, and the panic starts to set in. Your stomach drops for a whole different reason than it has been recently. Regulus must see it on your face.

“Merlin's tits.” he sits forward. “Are you?”

“Of course not!” you whisper-shout, not wanting the entirety of seventh year to know your business. “No. There's no way.”

“I know that's a saying, but is there actually no way? Like absolutely, zero percent, chance?”

“Yes.” The lie flies out of your mouth and you're grateful for it. “It would be impossible.”

He sighs as if it's his womb. his uterus. his life changed forever. his vagina changed forever. At least he's completely forgotten to be scared of contracting your disease now.

Because you can't catch pregnancy.

But you're not pregnant! You're not. You curse it out of your mind.

“You should probably still go see madam Pomfrey, though. Even if she doesn't know what it is, she'll be able to help. Give you an anti-nausea potion or something.”

“Oh, great,” You reply genuinely. You hadn't thought to go to the nurse for something like that, probably because muggles usually just had to wait an illness like this out. But of course wizards have options for these things. “Thank you, Regulus."

The professor finally enters, apologising about being late and instructing everyone to turn to page 116 of the textbook.

“And yes, I'll help you catch up. Just try not to miss any more school. You free on Saturday?”

You don't look at each other as you talk, typing not to get caught out by the teacher so early in the day. “Yeah. I'm free.” You're always free, you don't have a life.

“Cool. Library, after lunch.”

As the day continues on, you go from lesson to lesson, eating lunch outside in the courtyard despite the weather only just beginning to show signs of spring, but you can't stop thinking about what Regulus said.

What he joked about. Because, scarily, you know that it's a real possibility. Your memories of that night may have been clouded due to about five too many drinks, but you do remember the important part. There was a moment, however quick, where you both had forgotten yourselves.

But you remembered five…thirty seconds into it, and he continued with protection on until it was over. And you definitely remembered taking a plan B the next day…and then being hungover as shit and throwing up in a bin. Bollocks.

Could one night of stupidity really alter the course of your life forever?

Sirius would be fine. He's a man, no one expects him to stay. But you…

No! This is ridiculous! You don't even know for sure yet. It's highly unlikely, and there's no use getting worked up over societal expectations and inequalities when it could all be for nothing.

You decide to give yourself a day. A day of peace and quiet before your life changes forever, possibly. If you wake up on Friday, tomorrow morning, and your sickness still hasn't gotten any better, then you will buy a test at the weekend. A test from a shop in hogsmede, you won't be going to Madam Pomfrey just yet.

Despite the deal with yourself, you don't get much sleep that night. It's half because you still aren't feeling well, and half because you're scared of the reason why.

When you're inevitably pulled out of bed at four in the morning, slogging your way to the toilet in the dark like a zombie being led by a siren, you want to kill Sirius Black.

“I bought a test.” You sit down opposite Regulus at the table in the library he'd chosen for your study session.

“A practice test?” he asks.

“A pregnancy test.”

His eyes widen almost comically as he slides his paper to the side to give you his whole attention. “I thought you said it was impossible.”

“I lied a little bit.”

“...Yeah. Clearly.” He nods, eyebrows raised, as he looks at you expectantly. “And? What did it say? What were the results?”

“I haven't taken it yet.” It was a struggle for you getting ready this morning. You've stopped using the dorm bathroom and instead were forced into the toilets closest to the slytherin common room, feeling bad for your dorm mates. Thankfully no one used those toilets that early in the morning on a Saturday.

Anyway, by the time you'd bought the thing, you were already nearly late. You didn't want to be rude when Regulus was doing something like this for you, at least that was the plan. By blurting it out immediately, you sent that plan down the drain.

“So you're telling me because you knew I'd force you to take it and you're too chicken?”

“What? No. Hey where are you going, I can still study!”

He turns to look at you impatiently. “We can do this later.” When you still don't move, he walks back and grabs your arm, dragging you with him out the library.

“Well that's rude,” you say. “Where are we going?”

“Will anyone be in your dorm?”

You think about what your roommates were talking about last night. Elise is spending the day with her girlfriend. Magnolia is finishing a divination project, and Sadie went home to see her parents. “No. But I don't know if this is a good idea–”

“We'll only be quick. How long do those things take, like five minutes?”

“Um, a little longer, I think. I don't know, I didn't read the box, I didn't want anyone to see me.”

Twenty minutes later, you and Regulus perch on the edge of the bathtub, waiting for the results. The stick burns in your hand as your patience slowly runs out.

“When was your last menstruation?” he asks, catching you off guard.

“I don't think we're at that point in our friendship yet,” you reply without missing a beat. You're too anxious about the magical stick in your hands to worry about bring weirded out.

He nods apologetically. “Felt wrong as soon as I said it.”

“How long is left?”

Regulus pulls up his sleeve, revealing a sleek wrist watch. “About thirty seconds.”

The wait is torture. Your foot bounces on the floor, switching from heel to toe to heel to toe and again. Your heart syncs with the tick of his watch, beating loud and hard with each passing second.

Merlin, you feel like passing out.

“Okay, that's time.” He jumps up, moving to stand in front of you while you remain sat on the tub. Pins and needles shoot up your leg, pulsing like fireworks. Definitely not a good idea for you to stand right now. “Hurry up, what does it say?”

You shove the stick in his face. “I can't look, you do it.”

Without hesitation, he takes it from you and stares intently. “One line. What does that mean?”

Paper crinkles as he hurriedly unfolds the information sheet that came in the box. You wait on the edge of your seat. The tub is digging into you rather uncomfortably, actually, but you don't care, you lean forward over Regulus’s shoulder, making it even worse.

“Well?”

“Negative!” he cries, spinning to look at you. You really are in this together at this point, he's invested. “y/n, it's negative. You're not pregnant!”

“Shut up!”

“I will not.”

“Give it to me.”

One line, like he said. Wow. This is…

“Wait, this is good. It's good, you're not pregnant, why are you crying?”

You shake your head, dipping it and touching your chin to your chest to try for some form of privacy in such close quarters.

Just when you lift your head again, about to say something, the world slips out from underneath you.

Before anything else registers, you feel the bathmat scratching at your cheek and the threads slowly falling apart under your hands, and a dull but very present pain in your side. You're not sitting on the edge of the tub anymore, that much is clear.

“Are you seriously laughing at me right now?” You ask, voice still thick with the emotion from only moments ago, once you get your eyes open. The little bastard is laughing at you.

“Stop, this moment isn't about me.” He almost has you, but then he goes and loses his composure again. “I'm sorry, the way you just went down! It was like– szhuum–and then you were just on the floor. You fell off a bathtub.” He's cackling again, high pitched and completely un-regulus-like, but you don't quite mind it.

You do mind, though, that you're the one he's laughing at.

“It's not funny, you twat.”

He ignores you, but eventually stops laughing and sits down on the floor with you. You both sit with your backs against the bath, staring at the underside of the sink and cracking paint, in silence for a while.

“It is good,” you say finally. “It's very good. If I made a pros and cons list of not being pregnant, there would be, like, so many more pros than cons.”

“Great. So can we go back to the library now?”

You forgot that was the reason you're hanging out in the first place. That you still don't have any friends, and Regulus is only still here because he promised to help you out.

You shake off whatever you're feeling about the pregnancy test, because that's way too complicated, and head back down to go study with him. As planned.

It's dinner time by the time you guys have finished your little study session, so you decide to walk together to the great hall. You get talking about random things that have nothing to do with school—it's new territory for both of you. Once the food comes, though, you naturally fall into silence.

You can't stop thinking about the test this afternoon as you pile your plate with mashed potatoes. The results were good, of course they were. You grabbed sausages now. Logically, in every way, if you were to have a baby at your age, that would be a recipe for disaster.

Right? Babies are expensive, you don't have a job. They're hard work, messy, loud, gross, needy. You cram a few vegetables onto the space left on your plate, topping it all off with a nice pour of gravy.

Merlin, you could cry, it smells delicious.

But babies are also cute. They have those really small shoes for their really small feet. And you've always known you wanted to be a mum. To have a family of your own. You would do it right. Your kids would know that they're loved and you'd never let them forget it.

But you have time to do all of that! Just because it's not happening now, doesn't mean it never will. The timing just isn't right at the moment. That's perfectly okay.

“Hey.” You're brought out of your head by a figure joining the seat next to yours. It's Elise. You smile at her. “Hey, you're finally eating! That's so great, are you feeling better?”

“Only a little. I just can't resist bangers and mash.”

“Oh, of course.” She giggles. “I should've known. Well, it's still good.” Her plate fills with food before she continues. “So, anyway. If you're up for it, which I sincerely hope you are, there's a party in Hufflepuff next Wednesday. Anyone who hears about it is invited.”

“Oh, that sounds like fun actually.”

“Yeah?” Elise says enthusiastically. “That's great! I'm so excited, it feels like we haven't had a proper party around here in ages.” Then she leans over you to look at Regulus. “You should come too, Reg. Some fun'll do you good, I think.”

“I'm perfectly happy being boring. Who has a party on a school night anyway?”

“Ah, come on.” Your hands grab his shoulders, squeezing. “Come with us. I can drink! We should celebrate that. And you have to go to a Hogwarts party before you leave, and I'm willing to bet you wouldn't dare risk being hungover for an exam. Please? Do it for yourself! Live a little before your real life starts!”

He seems to ponder it for a minute, bringing a stem of broccoli to his mouth to buy him time. You and Elise share amused looks and wait for his answer.

“Okay, fine. But I'm not getting drunk, or–”

“y/n!” You feel a shove against your back, and swivel around to see the culprit. You roll your eyes when you see that it's only Magnolia.

“What?”

The girl slowly peers over your shoulder at your dinner plate, taking her time with it, smirking as if she's the queen of fucking England. “This explains so much. Who's the unlucky guy?”

Panic shoots through your veins as you notice, only then, that she's holding something behind her back. You stand, straightening your posture like that'll protect you from whatever she's about to say. “What are you talking about?”

You step over the bench, forcing her to take a step back herself. Her smirk grows, if that's possible.

“Oh, my bad, is it a secret?”

“Is what a secret, Magnolia?” You just want her to say it. You need her to say it.

“Well if you didn't want me to know maybe you shouldn't have left a positive pregnancy test in the bathroom that we share.”

“A what?” You're causing a scene now, you can tell. The people sat closest to you at the table started paying attention as soon as Magnolia came over, and their staring has only invited more people to look at you. You just hope they can't hear you. “Did you say positive?”

Finally, her face falls a little bit. She's no longer smirking.

Her hands disappear from behind her back, practically shoving the stick you'd peed on a few hours earlier into your chest. You grab it immediately, and she let's go without a fight. She seems as confused as you are.

“It's not yours? But it makes sense. You've been sick, moody as hell. I mean, look at your dinner plate, it looks like you're eating for five.”

“Get the fuck out of my face.” You don't apologise when your shoulder accidentally brushes against hers on your way out. You don't look back at Regulus, or Elise, who surely heard your conversation, even if nobody else who watched did.

Merlin you hope nobody else did.

Your footsteps echo in the quiet halls. You're not sure where you're even going until you find yourself sitting down with a view of the stars.

The astronomy tower, of course. You were just glad not to run into anyone hooking up, knowing this was a fairly popular spot. But tonight it's quiet. Still.

The stars shine bright in the sky, reminding you that you're not completely alone. You let the quiet wash over you, breathing deeply until your racing heart calmed down.

Then, on Saturday night in the astronomy tower, you turned over your hand with the test in it, squinting in the moonlight to make out the result.

Unlike earlier this afternoon, but very much like Magnolia had screamed about five minutes ago, there were two lines.

Two buggering lines.

Chapter Text

Music blasts from the turntables in the corner of the common room as you stand diagonal, at the edge of the crowd of people. Those in the middle, in the space the sofas usually are, seem to be having the time of their lives, jumping up and down and grinding to their hearts content. Usually, at a party, you would be with them. But there's something…off about tonight. You're not quite feeling it. And it's not like you can sit down, because the sofas are mostly occupied with couples either cuddling, making out, or both. You try not to look too closely in case you spot something you don't want to see. No one needs to see that. You take a sip of your drink instead, contemplating leaving already, even if you'd only gotten there with Elise fifteen minutes ago. But before you can swallow, Regulus is by your side with a look on his face that makes you think someone threw up on his shoes. You look down, they're fine. Well, odd as shit, and pointy, but not covered I'm vomit. 

“What are you doing? Does that have alcohol in it?” 

It takes you a few seconds to realise, but as soon as you do, you're spitting the liquid back into your cup. “Shit! I mean– I'm not– So it doesn't matter. It was a false positive. But I might just go and get a new drink anyway…” 

When you saw Regulus again after Saturday evening, you told him that you'd taken more tests, and they came back negative, like you both had thought the first one did. He did not believe you. To be fair, you are lying. 

You pop to the drinks table and quickly return with something fizzy but not alcoholic, much to your dismay. “So hey!” You say when you rejoin him. “I was half expecting you not to come. I'm glad we convinced you. What the hell are you wearing?” 

He looks down at his clothes with a frown. “What's wrong with it?” 

“Is that a cape?” 

He scoffs. “No. Of course not.” 

“It looks like a cape.” 

“It's a poncho, I'll have you know.” 

“Ah, a poncho.” You thought those were just for when it rains at theme parks. He's definitely wearing a cape. “And do you find that you can't enter a room without someone inviting you in?” 

“How's your pregnancy going? Okay?” 

You can't help the laugh that escapes you. “Shut up.” 

“You started it.” 

“Ooh, I like this song. See you.” 

“You can't avoid it forever.” His eyes stay on you as you shuffle away in time with the music. You feel like an idiot, but an idiot that's started something she can't stop. 

“Watch me,” you whisper, finally turning around and disappearing into the crowd of sweaty, drunk students. You weren't lying, you actually do like this song. Fleetwood Mac's ‘Don't Stop.’ You have the whole album on record, it's one of your favourites. So, you dance for a little while. Normally, when you do this, you're at least a little bit drunk, and at first it's a bit daunting to be completely sober. Sort of like ‘what the fuck am I doing in front of so many people’ type of daunting. But soon enough, you realise that no one's looking at you. Not one single person in this crowd is paying attention to you. After the second song finishes, you bump into Elise in the crowd, dancing with her girlfriend, Marlene. You join them, giddy once you realise their dancing is just as dorky as your own. 

And that makes you realise that everyone is dancing as dorky as you, if they're dancing at all. Lots of people are just grinding on each other or jumping up and down and doing something with their arms. It's freeing, until you feel hands on your waist. You turn, ready to clock whoever it is right in the nose. But you're greeted with a soft smile, and beautiful green eyes. 

“Hey.” 

You turn fully to face him, and his hands fall from your side. You're breathing heavily as you look at him, dancing completely forgotten. 

“Not today, babe,” you say after staring at his face for definitely too long. He's just so pretty. You can't help it. 

He nods, but doesn't make any moves to leave. “Saw you with Reg earlier. He doesn't normally come to this type of thing. You have something to do with it?” 

You bite the inside of your lips, nodding. 

“Didn't know you were friends?” he continues. 

You shrug. “We're in some of the same classes.” 

“Ah.” 

“Jealous?” 

“Absolutely.” 

That catches you off guard, and you furrow your brow. Sirius was the one to break your arrangement off. “You have no right or reason to be.” 

“And yet.” 

You roll your eyes. You're the only still people on this dance floor, everyone around you becoming a blur of bad dance moves. “What do you want from me, Black?” 

“Let's go somewhere quieter.” 

“I already told you I'm not fucking you.” 

“Not to shag. To talk.” 

“I have nothing to say to you.” Well, that wasn't quite true. But you figure it's probably best to tell the father of your baby that hes the father of your baby once you have more things figured out. Also once you've stopped denying said baby's existence. Because you're not pregnant. 

Before Sirius has a chance to reply, a boy in glasses appears behind him, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. His grip pulls it up slightly, revealing the bottom of Sirius's stomach. You try not to stare.  

“Mate! I left you alone for five minutes. This has got to be worth, like, a hundred push ups. Just wait til Remus hears.” 

And, before you know quite what's happening, Sirius is gone, pulled away by James Potter, who you know mostly from watching quidditch matches over the years. Despite going to school together for almost seven years now, you've never had a direct conversation with the guy. Never really wanted or had a reason to. Sirius's other friends, Remus and Peter, you knew a bit better. You always nod at Remus when you're both in the library at the same time, one time he saw you struggling to reach a book on the top shelf, and got it down for you. Since then, you've noticed him always doing little things like that for people. Of course there's his mysterious scars, also, that half your year are curious about. You, personally, don't see what all the fuss is about. Most people have scars. Remus just has the misfortune of having his in very obvious places, and people are nosy cunts who don't know how to mind their business. 

Like James, you also haven't spoken to Peter very much, although you were partnered for a project together in third year. But Peter, at least to you, is a lot easier to figure out than Potter. He could hardly meet your eyes during the project, stuttering over his words–and that was when he decided he would speak to you, opting to nod or shrug in place of words most of the time. Peter struggled to see women as people, equal to men, and while he on the surface came off as simply nervous, he certainly wasn't as quiet when talking with his mates. He also took whatever James Potter said as gospel, following the boy everywhere. It almost made you feel bad, how little backbone he clearly had. 

The day before you were supposed to hand in your project, you overheard him talking with the others, complaining. About you. The girl he'd spoken about three words to. He'd called you annoying, saying how pissed he was that the professor hadn't let him switch partners like he'd asked. He also added, and now you remember this part vividly, that he didn't like how short your skirt was, and he thought it was inappropriate for the classroom that you could see your bra through your shirt. 

If someone said that about you now, you'd empty your water bottle onto them. Back then, little fourteen-year-old-you was simply disgusted with the realisation that boys were now looking there. Why was he noticing the length of your skirt? Who cared if you could see your bra? At least you couldn't see your tits. And it wasn't your fault the uniform shirts were practically sheer. Merlin forbid a girl wants to be joyful and wear a pink bra once in a while. From then on, you wore shorts under your school skirt, and saved the fun bras for weekends, when you weren't wearing a uniform. You also tried to keep your head down and be more careful with how you spoke to your guy classmates, but at the end of the day, you were still yourself. Peter had only enlightened you to the type of men out there, he hasn't stripped you completely of your personality. Thank Merlin, because sometimes it's rather fun to be you.

Once Sirius is gone, you have no idea where, you weave your way out of the crowd, grab another drink, and leave the common room for some fresh air. You make it about fifty metres before your feet and ankles scream at you to sit down, and end up taking a breather in the middle of the corridor on the cold ground. The coolness is lovely on your skin, sinking in like a calm ocean's tide. You feel yourself relax, like a weight taken off your bones. Your bones have been feeling so heavy recently. For a while, you just sit there. Staring and sipping your lemonade, wishing it wasn't lemonade, bopping your head along occasionally to a song you like. Someone should probably warn them that the music is loud enough to hear from outside, that you're not being as sneaky as you all think and a teacher could come and shut this down at any minute. That person won't be you, though. 

You watch as people stumble out of the common room, some alone, some with another person attached to their face, most of them drunk. No one notices you. After so long, your bum starts to get numb and you decide to go back in, if only to scout everything out and realise it's time to go home. You might be able to help a drunk person get home. But that plan goes out the window when you spot a boy dressed like a vampire squashed between couples making out on the couches. You frown, going up to him. 

“Have you just been sitting here all night?” 

“You're the only person I know here, and you left me.” 

Your frown deepens. “You've been going to school with these people for seven years.” 

“So? I don't talk to them.” 

“Ugh, you're impossible.” You stretch your arms out, making a ‘come here’ motion with your hands. “Up.” 

He follows you until he realises where you're taking him. “Oh…absolutely not. I don't dance.” 

“You do tonight, baby. Come on, loosen up a little. Maybe even crack a smile!” You shout over the music. 

“I don't do that, either.” 

“Look, I'm not gonna drag you. But you came tonight for a reason. What did you think people did at parties? Read? No. You're not that socially inept.” 

“You flatter me, truly.” 

The song ends, and when the next one starts you almost jump with excitement, talking with more urgency than before. “Come on, man! It's ABBA! Anyone can dance to ABBA.” 

You're already swaying your hips a little as you move further into the crowd, with Regulus following shortly behind you. You think you hear him apologising to someone for bumping into them. It makes you smile. When it gets to the first chorus, you sing along as you jump about, not minding that no one else is. Regulus is staring at you as if you're insane. Maybe you are, a little bit, but at least you're having fun. You grab him by his bony shoulders and shake, screaming the words in his face. It finally gets him to crack, the corners of his lips tugging up in what is obviously a very reluctant smile.  

“You're the only person singing along,” he shouts over the music, and even then you have to read his lips to figure out what he said. 

“So sing with me then.” 

“I don't know the words!” 

But by the end of the song, almost the entire party is singing along. Regulus picks up the lyrics, it isn't hard, they repeat every minute or so. You spot some familiar faces in the crowd; people you talk to at parties like this, sometimes in the corridor at school, but it's never anything with meaning. Still, it's nice sometimes to be greeted with an, “it's you!” and pulled into their circle to do shots. Nice to be reminded that you aren't always completely invisible in this place. And in that moment, when you're singing along to ABBA with about a hundred other kids, you've never felt more on top of the world. You didn't need alcohol tonight, you just needed this. 

After the party on Wednesday, you're exhausted. You're not used to being this tired after doing normal things. On Thursday morning you'd dragged yourself out of bed to go to classes, but skipped lunch for a nap back in your warm, soft bed. You only just woke up in time for dinner. Today, Friday, you hadn't gone to any classes. You made it down for breakfast but ran out in a hurry for the nearest toilet. This bug was really starting to piss you off, it's impossible to keep track of all the things that set you off. You can hardly stop going to the dining hall, you still have to eat. But how can you eat when being surrounded by so many different flavours and smells all of a sudden makes you throw up? There's no winning. 

“Knock knock,” comes a voice from outside your bed. It's late Friday evening, and you're writing in your journal before bed. “Can I open the curtains?” asks Elise. 

You place the ribbon bookmark between the pages to keep your place, and close the notebook. “Of course. What's up?” 

The curtains around your bed pull back, and Elise stands at the end of your bed, fiddling with her fingers. “How are you feeling? Any better?” 

“I'm okay.” You nod, hoping she didn't come over here just for that. “How are you?” 

She ignores your question, climbing on top of your duvet until she's kneeling on your bed. She seems nervous, she won't meet your eyes. “So, I was thinking. And if you're scared to go to the infirmary because you don't want to go alone, I'll come with you. I should've offered before, I don't know why I didn't, I just felt a bit weird about it. You know? Like, I know we're roommates, but we're not super close. I didn't want to overstep or anything, and this is obviously super personal and private. But then I spoke about it with Marles, and she told me I should just put the offer out there, whether you accept it or not. So, no pressure at all. But I'm offering.” 

“You told Marlene I'm pregnant?” 

Her eyes widen. “I only told her because I wanted her advice on what I should do! I swear. And she's not going to tell anyone. Sorry. Merlin, I never think. I just say. I'm so sorry. Are you mad at me?” 

Well how can you be mad at her when she acts like that? It's unfair. “No, I'm not mad.” You are a little bit. “But I'm not even pregnant, so.” 

All the worry drains from her face, replaced with a sterner expression you don't recognise on her features. “Y/n. Come on now.” 

“I'm serious, the test was negative when me and Regulus did it.” 

“Okay, let's say you're not.” Bless Elise and her aversion to conflict. “You are still definitely some sort of sick, and it's not getting any better. So, my offer stands.” 

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” 

“So what are your plans for tomorrow?” She jumps into the subject change surprisingly cheerfully, settling down on your bed and crossing her legs. You sit up more to look at her properly, taking the crossed legs as an indicator that she's staying for a short while. 

“Um, if I feel well enough, I need to do some shopping. Just boring stuff. Bras and underwear and that.”  All of your bras have been fitting extra tight recently. It must be a second growth spurt, or something. You read somewhere that that happens around your twenties, maybe yours is just a couple years early.

“Oh!” Did she just squeal? “Can I join you?” 

“Sure. You wanna get something for Marlene?” You ask, grinning when her cheeks go pink. 

“Maybe something like that, yeah,” she says, voice soft with shyness. It's really cute how much she and Marlene like each other. They've been together since just before the Christmas holidays, so going on nearly three months now. Still in the honeymoon phase, you guess. Not that you would know anything about relationships.

“Cool, sounds like a plan. Girls trip.”  

“Yes, girls trip!” She starts to retreat off the bed, going back to her own, you hope, and must realise that she's acting very hyper. “Um, if you feel up to it, of course,” she adds, voice calm but lips still pulled wide in a genuine smile. “No pressure. We can always rain check.” 

“Great. Sleep well, Elise.” You lean forward to tug the curtains back into place. 

“Goodnight, Y/n!” 

You have fun with Elise the next day, even if you had to leave early and go back home. You got what you needed, helped Elise find something, and even had a quick browse in the book shop before your legs started getting heavy and your head foggy. Overall, it was a successful day, Elise didn't mention the P word, and you felt a lot better after a nap. But it's been four days since then, and you don't think you can ignore it any longer. You also don't think you take much longer of being sick like this. How can you do your exams if you have to throw up half way through? How are you even going to be able to pass if you keep missing school? 

So, you give in. You don't tell anyone, don't take Elise up on her very kind offer to come with you, and make your way to the hospital wing. When you get there, despite having had a week to prepare on what you're going to say, you go blank. You humiliate yourself horribly. 

“What brings you here, sweetheart?” Madam Pomfrey asks. 

“Uh…” Just say it. Just spit it out. You won't be the first pregnant student in all of Hogwarts's history. This is embarrassing. She's staring at us. This was a bad idea. Why did we come here? “Um…” 

“Is something actually the matter? I'm very busy, I don't have time to be messed about, young lady.” 

“No!” Great, now she hates us. Well done. “I– I'm not.” Just say it. “Um, can you promise not to judge me?” 

“Simply tell me why you're here, or get out of my ward.” 

“I keep throwing up,” you blurt, panicking when she told you to get out. “Um, and I'm really tired like all of the time. And none of my bras fit anymore, I had to get new ones. Also I'm pretty sure I missed my period, I'm not sure, I don't track them. I know I should, I'm sorry, but I don't, and now I have no idea when my last one was.” You want to melt into the floor. Out of all the ways you could've picked to tell her, that had to have been the most chaotic, unorganised ramble of them all. You just hope she won't make you repeat any of it. 

Thankfully, she doesn't. Her sharp look from when she thought you were mucking her about is gone, replaced with a focused frown, and she ushers you to sit on one of the hospital beds. “Have you taken a test, dear?” 

“Yes. I took it, but it was negative, and then it was positive. I don't think I did it right.” 

She laughs quietly and you relax slightly, letting your shoulders slump. “Yes, I don't trust those box tests, and the instructions can be confusing.” You're sure she's only saying this to make you feel better. The instructions were very simple: piss on the stick and wait to see if a second line appears. “Much more accurate the old fashioned way, I say. Let's have a look, shall we?” 

She instructs you to lift up your shirt and lie back as she tells you she'll be right back. When she returns, it's with some sort of machine with a screen on wheels. A cool, gel-like substance is spread across your tummy. 

“Okay…” Now she brings over a stick, attached to the machine she walked in with by a cable. She brushes one end of the stick over your abdomen, sliding it across the gel she'd put on earlier. It's impossible for you to look away, mesmerised by the things the nurse is doing. “Oh, there it is,” Madam Pomfrey whispers. You look up to see what she means, but she isn't looking at you anymore, she's got her attention wholly on the screen of the machine. Displayed on the screen is an extremely grainy black and grey image, only it's shifting slightly every few seconds.

It's not a very interesting movie, you think.

“Yup,” she continues, finally looking back at you. She's smiling. “It's a bit difficult to make out on the screen, but that there is a baby. Congratulations, sweetheart.” 

You're speechless for a moment, eyes welling. “Are you sure?” you whisper; it's all your throat will let you. 

“I'm sure.” Her voice is soothing, and you're grateful for it. You'd been worried she'd get mad, and tell you off for being so irresponsible. Her calm, even happy, reaction–though extremely unexpected–is the only thing keeping you calm at the moment, too. 

“Are you really sure?” 

She takes a paper towel from the drawers next to the bed, wiping down the stick and placing it into a hold on the machine. She passes you a handful, too, for your stomach. 

“Why don't I print out a picture for us to look at, and we can talk through some things. Does that sound okay?” She sees your tears and passes another handful of paper towels over without blinking. “It's all going to be fine, I promise. I'll just be two minutes, give me a second.” 

You stare down at the still taken from the ‘ultrasound’ as madam pomfrey had called it. This thing is inside of you, it's growing right now inside of you and it's only going to keep growing, keep getting bigger. At the time she'd pointed out which grain was the baby, but as you look at it now, you can't for the life of you remember or make it out on your own. You just know it's there somewhere. Maybe that's enough for you. 

“Hi.” 

You jump, hugging the paper close to your chest to hide the photo. 

“Why did I even stop wearing eyeliner if people still get scared when I talk to them?” 

“You used to wear eyeliner? Why would you stop?! You should definitely bring that back.” 

Regulus sits down on the bench next to you, ignoring what you said. “What have you got there?” he nods towards your chest. 

“...My boobs?” 

“No.” He exhales loudly, lets out half of a laugh, and rubs his forehead, exasperated. “The super secret piece of paper that you don't want me to see.” 

“Oh.” You look down, staring into it as you debate whether to tell him or not. He basically already knows, so there can't be any harm in confirming his suspicions. “You promise not to tell anyone?” 

“Who would I tell?” 

“Oh, right, I forgot you're as pathetic as me.” 

“Don't bring me down to your level, I'm not that bad.” 

“Yet. Keep hanging around me and we'll get you there, babe.” 

“I promise not to tell anyone. Now show me.” 

Wordlessly, you uncover the picture and lean it towards him, but keep your hands on it. You haven't let it go since Madam Pomfrey gave it to you yesterday. “It's…What is it?” 

“A baby. Well, I'm only eight weeks, so I guess it's just a bunch of cells right now. But a bunch of cells that will grow into a baby. Isn't that crazy? Kind of freaky, too.” 

“You finally went to the infirmary? And they confirmed it? Show me the baby again, I want to see.” You smile slightly and he looks more intently at the paper like he's trying to figure it out. “Aw,” he says, deadpan. “I'm sure it'll be…really small.” 

“Thanks, Reg.” 

The next few days are uneventful. You may even go so far as to say they're good. You and Regulus spend more time together–without getting your hopes up, you think you're becoming friends–and he's only asked who the father is seven times. He and Elise teamed up sometimes; you'd told her you went to Madam Pomfrey mostly just to get her to stop worrying, and it backfired majorly. 

“Why won't you tell us?” Elise’s voice dropped to whisper. “Do you not know who he is?” 

“Of course I do, how little do you think of me?” 

“Not little at all!” Elise.

“I don't think you want me to answer that.” Regulus. You scowled at him. He ignored you, turning his attention to Elise instead. “Has she ever had a boyfriend?” 

She thought about it for a second. “Yes, but a couple years ago now. And he doesn't go to this school. Unless they got together over the holidays when she went back home!” 

“Did that happen?” Regulus asked you.

“No! Stop talking about my love life right in front of me like I'm not here.” 

“Not your love life, your sex life.” 

“Sweet fuck, save me from this conversation.” 

They continued for another ten minutes. Thankfully, neither of them came even close. It's lucky you and Sirius were so careful during your…arrangement, you never brought him to your dorm unless you knew 100% no one else would be there. It wasn't that it was a secret, it's just that people are so annoying. Anyway, you were going to tell Sirius. Eventually. Soon, even. Soon is probably more morally correct. But Eventually is so much more enticing. Eventually gives you time. 

On Saturday morning, your streak of good days ends. It's after breakfast, and still unable to handle the dining hall without vomiting, you ate your breakfast in the courtyard. On her way back from breakfast, before leaving for a date with Marlene, Elise found you, dropping an envelope into your lap. 

“This came for you at breakfast,” she says. 

You look up. “Oh, thanks babe. Have a good day.” 

“Are you sure you don't want to join us later? We're hanging at the three broomsticks, you won't be a third wheel or anything, most of Marl's friends are coming, too. I know you can't drink, but it will still be fun. It's always fun when Potter and Black have too much to drink. They're really funny!” 

That could be a good opportunity to talk to Sirius privately without having to go up to him out of nowhere. The chances of him running away from you before you even say anything are much lower. So you actually mean it when you say, “Oh, maybe. Yeah, I'll think about it.” 

She skips away, and your attention turns to the envelope she gave you. Immediately, you recognise the handwriting, and you have a fucking heart attack. Clearly, your brain doesn't know the difference between being held at knifepoint, and getting a letter from your parents.

You already know it's bad before you open it. The bad vibes waft off the paper in waves, warning anyone who tries to read the contents. Well, lucky for you, you don't have a choice. You close your eyes, forcing yourself to take three deep breaths to try and calm down, and rip off the bandaid. At first, there are two of each word, and they all move about the paper like tadpoles in a big ocean. You inhale deeply one more time, and compel yourself to read. 

Y/n, 

Your school contacted us recently and informed us of your recent ailment. I must say, y/n, I expected better from you. 

While at first we were hurt, and disappointed not to have heard about it from you personally, I have decided to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you've already taken care of it, hence you didn't feel a need to bother us about it. If that is the case, which I sincerely hope it is, then good, you are welcome to stay at the house over summer until you're able to find a permanent place to live, as you are graduating in July and won't be returning to school in September. 

If that is not the case, then I urge you to do the right thing before it is too late. It would be a horrible shame to see you throw your life away, not to mention how disrespectful it would be to everything we have sacrificed for you and your sister over the years. Safe to say, at least, that if you display such ungratefulness, there is no home for you here. I know you will understand, and choose the right thing. 

Do not feel a need to write back, I will know your decision if I see you in the summer. I wish you well and good luck on your exams next month.

sincere regards,

John y/l/n and Josephine y/l/n

Chapter Text

When you get back from the library late Monday night, you're greeted by the sight of your trunk by the entrance to the dorms. With a note stuck to it, labelled with your name in very clear letters. What is it with people telling you horrible things via letter these days? You don't even bother to read the note, unsticking it roughly and carrying it with you upstairs. You're exhausted. You just want to get into bed and disappear from the outside world for 10-12 hours. Instead of stomping like you'd prefer to do, your legs are heavy, head foggy, and it's more like a stumble. Even your knock is weak. 

It's Sadie who answers. 

“What is this?” you hold up the note, waving it in her face. “Why is all of my stuff downstairs?” When you try to enter, she pulls the door tighter so that only she fits through the gap. 

“Ooh, I don't think you want to do that, babe.” 

“Sadie.” 

Her face morphs from smug to no-nonsense. “We had a roommate meeting, and it was agreed that you can't stay here anymore. You're pregnant, constantly hogging the loo, always complaining, you're messy. Frankly, you're terrible to live with. And we've had enough.” 

You bite down the urge to repeat her words in a high pitched, mocking tone. “You can't kick me out, you don't own this dorm.” 

“I'm sorry, I thought we just did.” She winces, mocking you. “Yup, just accept it, y/n. If you try to come back, even while we're not here, we've charmed it so that you'll turn bright green. All of you. Slytherin pride, eh?” 

Unfortunately, most of your fight is gone. You'll be furious tomorrow, maybe, if you get an okay night's sleep---which you won't, because you're basically homeless now. Despite feeling like yelling, smacking, kicking, and causing a right fuss, your voice is at normal volume, and your tone only mildly infuriated. “Are you actually serious? Do you know how insane you sound right now?” 

“We all voted on it.” She shrugs as if she's not pure evil. “Okay, bye now. It's supposed to be warm tonight, lucky for you.” 

You actually can't believe it. You stand there for a minute after she's left, just staring at the closed door in utter disbelief. Eventually, you head back downstairs, but your jaw stays firmly on the ground. No one's left in the common room, so you do the only thing you can think of at that moment and settle yourself down on one of the sofas for the night. You'll figure out a better thing to do tomorrow, but for now you just need rest. 

Ever since that first test with Regulus, you'd been considering it. Of course you have. And Madam Pomfrey mentioned it briefly, ensuring that you knew you had a choice and that her job wasn't to judge you. Then came that letter from your father. It was foolish, but you genuinely hadn't thought seriously about what you'd do after you graduate. You always assumed you'd at least be able to stay at home until you found a job, though. And you couldn't be homeless with a baby to look after, but you wouldn't even be homeless if you do what your parents want. But is that what you want? 

You're still in the library, having hidden at the back until it closed so you could sleep in there. Yesterday morning you got woken up by a fifth year sitting on you, a rather large one at that, and you don't fancy having a repeat. Hence your rule breaking and hiding under a blanket for an hour until everyone left. Now, it's late. The full moon shines bright through the window, stars scattered around it only just visible through the glass. You write in your journal, arguments for and arguments against getting rid of the little bean inside of you. 

So far you have: 

for

-won't be homeless in summer

-I'm young, do I want to be changing nappies before 20? yes

- might be allowed back in my dorm

- haven't been travelling yet

- I don't have a mum, how do I know how to be a mum

- would probably have to do it all on my own

against

-always wanted to be a mum 

-have until November to find a home for Baby (note- ask around town for jobs. can't hurt)

- really cute socks 

- potentially traumatising  so is birth

- sirius's baby would be beautiful 

You stare at the page for a while, thinking. It's not an easy decision, and it's not a small one either. 

Before you know it, sunlight streams through the window, waking you up. It beats getting sat on yesterday, but you're still not happy waking up so early. Your notebook is still open on your chest, you sigh, closing it, and get up to start the day. 

“Are you sure, sweetheart? I have no problem with whatever you want to do, but I don't want you doing something you don't want to do. Have you thought it through properly?” 

“I have, this is what I want.” 

Madam Pomfrey just nods. “Okay then. Just take a seat, I'll go and find the correct medicine. I'll talk you through everything when I get back.” She leaves, and you carefully exhale, trying not to let your mind spiral. This is the right thing to do. You have your whole life to have a family, this will just become something you look back on and grimace at how stupid you were for getting knocked up by a practical stranger. The curtain screeches with Pomfrey's return, but her hands are empty. “Actually why don't you sit with Remus while you wait? You're both friends, aren't you? Remus, sweetheart, do you mind having some company?” 

She goes back behind the curtain and now you hear another voice, this one deeper. Their voices are garbled and you can't make out the words, but it isn't long before the pale curtains are pulled back altogether, now nothing blocks your sight of the boy in the bed next to yours. He's got a bandage over his shoulder, a new addition to the faint white scars littering his skin, you assume. 

He gives you a friendly look. 

You tentatively take the seat by his bedside. “Um. Are you alright?” 

He looks like he expected the question, answering quickly and smoothly. “Oh I'm fine, just a graze.” 

The silence is thick, filled with unspoken words. He's Sirius's best mate, you keep reminding yourself, what if he can tell and then he tells Sirius? If everything goes to plan, by next week there won't even be anything to tell Sirius. You should ask him something. Say something. Anything. Just don't mention Sirius or pregnancy at all. Okay, what does that leave? 

Exams? Boring. 

Graduation? Boring. 

The weather? What are you, pensioners?

“So you're killing Sirius's baby?” 

You whip your gaze up from the floor, looking at him. He's staring at you expectantly, as if he'd simply asked how your day’s going. 

“What?” you say, too shocked out of your mind to come up with anything else. In the years you've known Remus, you've never been close, but he's always been friendly. From observing him with others, you've noticed he's generally nice to most people. Those who deserve it, at least. His question is way out of character. Or maybe he's decided you don't deserve his kindness, lumped you in with people like Snape. 

“You're friends, right?” he says, giving you a friendly smile, his entire demeanor different. This is the Remus you recognise. You have no idea what happened ten seconds ago, it's as if he was possessed for a moment. “I think I've seen him talk to you at parties.” 

“I talk to everyone at parties.” You can't take your eyes off him. You feel as if you're hallucinating, or in a dream maybe. Did he really just say that? And then continue the conversation completely normally? Surely not. 

“Ah. So he isn't special? I'll be sure to let him know, that'll probably keep his ego in check for about two hours.” 

“Do whatever you want.” You stand from the chair, searching for a place to go. Your eyes catch on a door with a bathroom sign. Perfect. “I don't care.” 

“Um– Okay? Maybe you should just wait for Madam Pomfrey to get back.” 

“Why would you say that?” 

You head into the bathroom, the door swinging closed behind you with a squeak. 

Madam Pomfrey gives you what you need, letting you go with a promise that you'll return if anything feels off. The pills burn a hole in your pocket as you walk to the common room to try and get some more rest. You got found sleeping in the library that morning, and you probably can't spend the night there again. Just as well. Soon, you won't be pregnant anymore, and you'll make more of an effort to be a better roommate. 

Why does that make you sad? 

You have it all scheduled out. At the weekend, you'll take the final pills. You'll take the first one tonight, and the next one tomorrow morning, before the final dose that evening. Which should mean everything will be over by Sunday night. Like nothing ever happened. It will be difficult, you'll probably cry, but then you'll get your life back.

Maybe you could get something to remember it by. Or make a page in your journal. You won't decide now. 

You think you can convince your roommates to let you back if you're no longer pregnant, and you plan to start with Elise. You've been avoiding her this week, but it isn't like she's been dying to talk to you, either. You saw her turn the other direction to try and hide from you when you came around a corner in the hallways yesterday. It's what you expected—Elise hates conflict. If someone's upset with her, which to be fair, rarely happens, she likes to avoid them until they forget about it. But that's not good enough for you. If you need to bite the bullet and forgive her for kicking you out, you…can't do it.

Nope. No way. You thought you could, but now that you're thinking about it properly, you never want to speak to that bitch again. 

How could she do that? You realise that it was most likely Sadie and Magnolia who pushed for it, but Elise didn't even try to stop them. Wow, you're pissed. You didn't realise it until now. 

You get up from the sofa and decide to work off some of your angry energy, heading outside. You take a walk around the grounds, slowly, admiring things you never noticed before. A flower bed, how the castle looks from afar, the newly sprouted trees, bright green for spring. You narrate for Baby, talking low under your breath. 

“This is the lake, we swim in here sometimes, when it's warmer in the summer. But we have to be careful of the squid. Other than that, it's normally a fun afternoon if it's by the lake. Also a good study spot, but that's boring, so don't worry about that.” 

It's only fair for you to show it nature. The spring landscape is beautiful, colours and plants popping everywhere, so many different, quiet lives out here in the grass. 

You sit down at one point, pulling out your journal to sketch different flowers you've picked. You're not much of a drawer, but you don't care. 

When you get back to the common room, you think you're feeling better. The sunshine did you some good. But Regulus is there, sat cross legged on the floor by the fire, and his eyes crinkle when he sees you. 

You think it's his version of a smile. 

“Hi,” he says, “I haven't seen you recently. How are you doing?” 

And you just…break. It's very sudden and unexpected, and poor Regulus looks terrified. You weep into your hands right there, melting to the floor, and everything pours out of you.

Regulus has a dorm to himself. There are four beds, and it's practically identical to your dorm, only neater, because Regulus has the dorm to himself. It's only him. If he wanted, he could rotate which bed he sleeps on each night for four days until the cycle would repeat. Who knows what to do with that kind of power? 

You only know this, of course, because he took you there yesterday evening. After you had your meltdown in front of him, confessing the fact you didn't have anywhere to sleep anymore at some point between cries, he was very obviously uncomfortable. But, you had judged him correctly. While he may not be the politest—or even polite, sometimes—he was kind. There is real goodness inside of him. Or, perhaps he felt guilty for having three spare beds and wanted to get you to stop crying as soon as possible. Either way, who are you to complain? He's letting you stay with him. 

He was also surprisingly helpful about what to do re your pregnancy, letting you talk it out with him.

“I think it's normal to feel upset or like you're doing the wrong thing. What matters is if you're actually doing the wrong thing, take your feelings out of account, and think logically. You can't feed a baby with love.” 

“I did make a pro and con list.” 

“Okay, how'd it turn out?” 

“It made more sense to get rid of it,” you admit, dejected. “Everything's just so uncertain at the moment, you know? I have no idea what I'm doing once I leave school.” 

He nods. “And you haven't told Sirius?” 

You cringe. When you spilled that detail to Regulus, you may have forgotten that Sirius was actually his brother. At least he wasn't being weird about it, though you know as soon as you start feeling better, he's going to tease the shit out of you. “Would you tell him if you were in my position?” 

“You realise you just asked me what I'd do if I—a man, with man parts—was pregnant with my brother's baby?” 

Did he really just say man parts? Wow. Erase that from your ears, please. “I just mean, you know him. Really know him. Is there any point telling him if I'm probably just going to get rid of Baby?” 

He's quiet for a while, not looking at you anymore. He sighs deeply, and speaks as though it hurts. “All I know is, he won't be happy if he finds out from someone that isn't you.” 

“Remus knows. They're, like, best mates. Like they literally sleep next to each other. I'm so fucked.” 

By the time you both turned the lights out for bed, you've made your decision but haven't taken anything yet. You aren't happy about it, but Regulus has made you realise it doesn't matter if you're happy when this is a human life you're talking about. 

You can't feed a baby with love, Regulus had said. And he's right.

You have to face the truth, which is that it's not realistic to have a child when the next six months will be the most important of your life, and could genuinely go in any direction. Who knows how soon you'll get a job? What if you have to get an unpaid internship and work up some experience before getting hired by any well-paying employer? There's too many possibilities. 

You kick yourself that you're such an everyday planner, yet when it comes to as far as next month, that becomes too much. Why couldn't you be the type of person who's known what they want to do since they were five years old?

As you snuggle beneath the covers of a bed for the first time in four days, you let out a deep, relieved sigh. It's so damn comfortable. Probably because this mattress is never in use. 

You fall asleep fast with the reassurance that while the next few months might be difficult, and you know you'll probably always carry grief with you, it will be okay. That's it. Just okay. 

But just okay is a privilege you have, that many others don't, and didn't. You can keep going on just okay, knowing it won't be that way forever. 

You eat a late breakfast taken from the kitchens rather than the great hall, as you walk with Regulus through the castle. It starts as an aimless wander, but then he remembers he has to check in with a professor about an essay. 

When you turn the corner for the potions classroom, there's one too many people up ahead for your liking. 

Elise calls your name, leaving Marlene behind to catch up to you. 

“Um, I think I'll just catch up with you later,” you tell Regulus, already turning around. He nods, but doesn't continue walking, sticking around to watch your interaction with Elise. 

She runs past him without even looking at him. She says your name again, “Please. I want to explain.” 

“And I want you to leave me alone.” You shrug. “Isn't that funny?” 

“Just give me two minutes, I'm begging you. It's horrible without you there, I miss you, they–” 

“Elise,” Regulus cuts her off calmly. “She said she wants to be left alone. I think the least thing you could do right now is do what she wants.” 

“Right.” She's like a wounded animal. Her shoulders hunch with the rejection, face fallen. “Okay, I just…I'll wait. But please come back soon.” 

“That's not my choice,” you remind her. 

She nods, and heads back to her girlfriend. No sorry. No question of how you're doing, how you've been. No wonder where you've been staying, if it's safe. 

Wow. Pregnancy really does bring out everyone's true colours, even if they're not the one pregnant. 

It kind of sucks. 

You smile at Regulus, silently thanking him but he doesn't acknowledge it. He just says he'll see you in his dorm later, and zooms off down the corridor. Must be really keen to get his homework done. 

So, you head back down the halls, walking slowly without any particular destination in mind. You admire the portraits hung on the walls, knowing in the back of your mind what it's time to do. But somehow you end up outside. 

You pass the gates, the small crowd gathered on the green. You think you spot Sirius and his friends in the crowd, and decide it's probably best to get as far out of their sight as possible. 

You go a different route to yesterday, and show Baby the rest of the castle. 

It's busier than yesterday, all the students being out of class and enjoying the first warm weekend of the year. But you still talk under your breath, occasionally pointing at something you're talking about like a freaking tour guide. 

You're sure you look ridiculous to any onlookers. 

“Who are you talking to?

You know who it is before you turn around. Of course you do, you were half expecting this ever since you found out. And because he's not just anyone. 

Sirius Black has a presence, everyone around him feels it. It's how he draws you in. He speaks, and you know it's him, even if you can't see him. He walks into a room and the entire atmosphere shifts to make room for him. He looks at you, and your stomach does somersaults. 

His gaze burns into you, warming your back. You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and slowly turn to look back at him. 

Just the sight of him nearly knocks you off your feet. 

Both of you are quiet for a moment as you look into each other's eyes. Nature hums around you, unaware. His eyes are tired but glint beautifully in the spring light. He's not happy.

Finally, he says, “Why didn't you tell me?”

Chapter Text

September 

The air is thick with the humidity of late summer in Scotland when Sirius steps off the train with his closest friends, for the start of their final year at Hogwarts. It's been a good summer at the Potters’ and Sirius almost doesn't want to be back. He used to like coming to Hogwarts every year because he would be far away from his family, and get to see his friends every day. Now he gets that already with the Potters, and he can spend his days mucking about doing whatever he wants. It's great, but it makes coming back to school much more of a slog. Especially this year, the last year, where all the pressure is on him to figure out what he wants to do in life. He doesn't even know what he wants to do next week, expecting him to make a decision about the rest of his life is laughable. 

This is going to be a good year, though, regardless. He and James have some extra big prank ideas, they just need to pitch them to Moony who will help them figure out if they're plausible or not. They can't expect the marauders to leave without one big final bang, it's what the people expect! And it has to be big, which is why they've already started brainstorming. 

As they're walking up to the castle, James and Lily hand in hand, Peter talking James's ear off about his summer, Remus falls behind slightly and Sirius hangs back with him. They walk together in silence, not needing to talk because they've been writing to each other all summer. And Sirius suspects the steep incline may have Remus enough occupied, and he's not keen to piss him off less than five minutes after being reunited. 

Up ahead, dragging a bag about the size of himself, Sirius notices his little brother. He hasn't seen Regulus since June, and his hair looks freshly cut, eyes heavy, and he too is walking with a slight limp. Though Sirius knows it's not for the same reasons Remus is. 

He tried before the start of summer, to convince Regulus to come with him to James's, even though he knew it was hopeless. He won't stop asking. He'll send him a letter before Christmas, asking the same thing, and then again at the end of the year. It's important to Sirius that he knows the invitation hasn't expired, that it never will, because he knows Regulus will think he's being a burden and feel too shy to go up to Sirius if he changes his mind. But if he changes his mind and Sirius constantly asks him, maybe it will feel like he's doing Sirius a favour by finally accepting. And in a way, he would be. 

Sirius doesn't know what he'll do if Regulus doesn't fold by the end of the year. Regulus says he doesn't want to, says that Sirius is over-exaggerating about how bad it is at home. But they both know that he's not, and it will send him crazy thinking about Regulus alone in that house. At least while they're at school, Sirius can keep an eye on him.

A few days later, Sirius breathes heavily, trying not to inhale too much dust, as he watches you reclasp your bra. “You in a rush?” he asks, pulling a cigarette from his pocket. 

You look up, acknowledging his presence for the first time since detaching yourselves from each other. You sigh like he's annoying you and he knows that he's fucked. Both literally and metaphorically.

“No,” you say, also catching your breath. He doesn't believe you. 

“At least stay for a cigarette, you're making me feel used.” 

Only thirty minutes ago, you'd been exchanging names for the first time as he poured you a drink at a party to celebrate the start of your final year at Hogwarts. The beginning of the end. At the start of the night, Sirius's goal had been to get as drunk as humanly possible. He had not anticipated…you. He can't believe you've been going to school together for so long, and he's only just met you today. Twenty minutes ago, after he kissed you as you danced, you both decided to sneak off to find an empty classroom and ended up in an old closet with cleaning supplies and a mop in the corner. Clearly, you weren't picky. And boy did you not waste time. 

“Well we can't have that." You take the now lit cigarette from between his fingers. 

He shakes his head, looking across at your slightly tussled hair fondly. You still haven't put your shirt back on. 

“No we cannot.” Sirius takes the cigarette back as you exhale smoke. It's probably not a good idea to be smoking in such an enclosed space, but it's too late now. “So was that your first time?” he says. 

You laugh. Hard and sudden, like you weren't expecting it yourself. “Is that your way of telling me I was shit?” 

He coughs on the smoke, almost dropping the cigarette. “No!” How did you get to that conclusion? “No, Merlin, no. Not at all.” 

“Just making conversation then?” 

He coughs again, a small one, into his elbow. “I guess, yeah.” 

“Maybe stick to the weather next time, babe.” You're smirking at him like he's a hopeless idiot. “Or, literally anything else. Moral of the story, don't ask a girl if she's a virgin less than an hour after meeting her.” 

“Well I knew you weren't a virgin by that point,” he says in a mumble. 

October 

“Your heart's beating really fast,” Sirius whispers. He can feel it against his body because of the way you've spread yourself over him. “Is that normal?” 

Your legs straddle his as he sits against the wall on his bed, your head resting heavily on his shoulder. You've been doing this for about a month now, and have met enough times that he's beginning to get to know you, or your habits at least. But you aren't normally this touchy feely, he thinks, and this position is almost bordering on a cuddle. 

“Sorry,” you say finally, slowly. “Just give me a minute.” 

He silently agrees, leaving you to do your thing while he replays the past twenty minutes in his head. You'd sent him a note in the form of a paper aeroplane at lunch, just two words: Need you. Who was he to say no to that? You both had hurried up to his dorm, knowing you're supposed to be in class, and mutely agreed to make this a quick one. 

But now he's completely forgotten about class, and is too busy focusing on the pure speed of your heart rate. He starts to count them, automatically, but loses focus when he reaches thirty. It didn't take long to get to thirty, though, and he's sure that can't be a good thing. Your breathing is odd, too. He doesn't like how he's noticing these things, but it's only because your body is literally touching his. Skin to skin. 

“S…Sorry,” you say again. It's almost slurred. 

Sirius tries to look at your face, but your head is right next to his and facing the other direction. He says your name. Then again, when your shoulder flops onto him, and your body gets suddenly heavier. Not with weight, more like…force. He repeats your name, frantic, bringing his hand up to pat your back, seeing if you'll respond to touch. 

You do, and soon you're lifting your head off his shoulder and sitting up. Your eyes are drooping, almost shut. But you don't manage to stay like that for long, having put your arm behind yourself for stability which seems to bend the second you try to put any weight on it. 

You flop backwards. 

“Fuck!” Sirius scrambles, untangling his legs from yours and going and kneeling by your head. Your pupils flutter beneath your eyelids. “Hello? Can you hear me? What the fuck?!” He shifts restlessly, letting out a rather unmanly squeal. How's he going to explain this to people? “Are you awake?” 

Your head moves, ever so slightly. A nod, and he nearly jumps for joy. So he hasn't killed you. 

“What's happening?” he asks you. No reply, you don't move your head, either this time. “Can I do something? What can I do?” 

It's faint, very quiet. Your lips move slowly, like you're having trouble controlling them. But he makes it out, a quick, “sh,” before your face goes slack again.

“Did you just shush me? I'm trying to help you!” 

This time a groaning noise leaves your lips, and you shift about, trying to roll over or grab something, Sirius can't figure out what, but he does shut up like you asked. He sits by your body, close but not touching, and watches.

About two minutes pass before you're talking words again. Another three before you feel like sitting up. 

“I'm gonna…get some water.” 

He moves back against the pillows, out of your way, silently allowing you to crawl off the bed. He's frozen there, sitting and watching you almost fall as you make your way to the bathroom. 

Later, when the dizzy spell has mostly passed and you're sipping a glass of water on his bed while he watches you like a hawk, scared you'll faint again or disappear,

he says, “I thought I killed you.” 

And you laugh—quietly, he can tell you're still not a hundred percent—and reply, “What, with your dick?” You pat his shoulder twice, and go for a third time but miss. You play it off and he decides to pretend not to notice.

He smiles, but says, “Don't laugh at me, I was actually worried. I don't know what the fuck to do with a death on my conscience.” He pauses. “What did happen, though? Like, has that happened before? Do you have some sort of condition?” 

“Never happened before.” You're speaking with your eyes closed for some reason he can't figure out. “I think I'm just about to start my period, so. Everything's all a bit weird, you know.” 

“Oh, you have those.” 

You open your eyes just to narrow them at him. “Obviously?”

Sirius holds his hands up in surrender. “You never know, and my mother said it's impolite to ask a lady.” 

“Don't ask her if she's on her period. I'd say it's safe to assume most girls our age regularly have them.” 

“You're so wise.” 

“Fuck right off.” You snicker as you shuffle to the edge of the bed, finding and sliding on your shoes to leave. It's so fast that he doesn't really realise what you're doing until you're standing by the door. Okay…He guesses that's the end of the conversation? That was very abrupt. Maybe he said something wrong. He should probably get to class anyway. “See you later, Black.” 

He's flustered, and he forgets to say it back. And then you're gone, and he's very very confused about what just happened.

A few days later, he's still thinking about it, and so he decides to ask the only person he can think of who might be able to help him out. 

He and James are walking back from early morning quidditch practice, showered and changed, on the way to breakfast in comfortable silence. Sirius has no idea how to broach the subject, so he decides to just dive right in at the deep end. 

“Hey, Prongs?” He keeps his eyes ahead, refusing to look at the other boy. Just saying it is humiliating enough. “Have you ever had a girl…faint? Afterwards.” 

“Afterwards?” James says, clueless. “After what?” 

Sirius rolls his eyes, waving his hands in some shapeless gesture as if that'll give him any clue. “Y'know.” 

James's eyebrows scrunch over his glasses. Sirius refuses to explain any further, and they walk in silence until James finally gets it.

“Oh. Sex? Do you mean sex?” 

Sirius exhales slowly, stifling a grin as he stays determined not to look at his friend. “Yeah mate.” 

“Sorry, what was the question again?” 

“Has anyone ever fainted? In your experience.” 

“Fainted?” James questions, and Sirius regrets ever asking at all.

“Fucking forget about it.” 

They push the doors to the great hall open, heading to join Remus who's already munching down his toast. James laughs, loud, shaking his head. 

“You're so easy.” He slaps Sirius's back as they sit down across from their friend. “You've got to chill out.” 

“Oh so you were being an unhelpful wanker on purpose?” 

“Hey,” says Remus. “What are the rules?” 

“Tell that to him, not me!” 

“Prongs, what are the rules?” 

“No wankers before breakfast,” James mumbles reluctantly. “But you ask stupid questions you get stupid answers, that's my rule.”

“It's not a fucking stupid question.” 

November 

It's Sirius's birthday. He's eighteen at last, and he's going to party like it. At the party he isn't aware of, so far as his friends think. But even if Peter hadn't told him, to think that Sirius Black would be happy with a quiet night in on his eighteenth birthday is plain insanity. So he's got a plan. It starts at breakfast, after James corralled the entire table to sing him ‘happy birthday.’ 

The song ends and James quickly jumps back down from standing on the bench to save being scolded by Mcgonagol. Sirius has to endure a hundred pats on the back and even more birthday wishes before everyone settles down and he can fill his plate. He's fucking starving, hasn't eaten since dinner last night. 

“So, what are the birthday boy's plans?” says Remus, doing a terrible job at trying to be subtle. 

And so the plan starts. Sirius can't help but smile in anticipation. 

“Got a date,” he says, grinning. 

“What?” Peter blurts, looking worriedly at James. “But–” 

“With who?” James interrupts without a beat. “I didn't know you fancied anyone.” 

“It's just a bit of fun, ’nt it? Got to celebrate, eighteen's a big one.” 

“Exactly, so why wouldn't you want to spend it with u–” 

There's a bang under the table and Peter whines. Under his breath, James says, “Shut up, Wormtail.”

They must take him for some kind of idiot if they think he's still not caught on. 

Remus narrows his eyes at him. He's always been the best at detecting a lie, but Sirius isn't particularly worried. “Where are you going?” 

“A muggle nightclub,” Sirius replies, smooth. He won't crack under Remus's gaze, he won't. “We'll apparate there and back.” 

Now, instead of looking sceptical, Remus looks concerned. “Is that a good idea?” 

“It's fun, Moons.” 

“I meant for you to be somewhere not part of the wizarding world.” 

Sirius shrugs him off. It's not like he's actually going. 

Peter's fidgeting in his seat like a toddler who needs the loo. “What time will you be back?”

“I wouldn't wait up.” 

“But–” 

James stands abruptly, reaching over the table to take hold of Peter's arm and drag him with him. “We have to go. Last minute homework assignment.” 

And now it's just him and Remus. Sirius is still starving, having been too busy answering questions to eat any of the food piled onto his plate, so he picks up his fork and gets shovelling. Remus is quiet, doing the same for a while, but slower. Like he's contemplating something. 

Eventually, he looks up, shakes his head, and says, smiling, “You're not going on a fucking date.” 

Sirius winks, and gets up to go to class. 

Another idea pops into his head as he's walking between classes. This is a good day. 

He walks faster, still trying to seem nonchalant but desperately not wanting you to get away. 

“Hey,” he says, walking beside you. 

You jump slightly, hand going to your chest before you realise it's just him. You sigh, flicking his bicep in retaliation. “What do you want?” You sound absolutely annoyed with him. He loves it. 

“That's an odd way to wish me a happy birthday.”  

You stop walking and turn to him, mouth wide in a genuine, surprised smile. Not pissed off anymore. “It's your birthday? Happy birthday, Sirius. I feel bad, I didn't get you anything.” 

He shrugs. “You still have your Halloween costume?” The Gryffindors and Slytherins had separate parties for Halloween, but he caught a glimpse of your outfit when a bunch of people went outside to set off fireworks. You were dressed as a pirate, and the short dress and boots are burned into his memory. 

He hopes you saw him, too, and don't think he's being a creepy stalker.

A crease forms between your brows. “What? I mean, yeah, it was just a dress and then someone gave me the bandana to turn it into a proper costume, if only a half-arsed one.” You shrug. “You want my dress?” 

“I want you in your dress.” 

He sees the realisation as it slowly dawns on your features and you burst out with laughter. “Okay, babe, sure.” You pat his shoulder, beginning to walk towards a classroom on the left. “Why not, eh?” 

“Hey,” he calls after you, “and come to my party tonight? In Gryffindor. I'm not supposed to know about it, but Pete talks in his sleep.” 

“Sure.” 

And then you disappear behind the door, and he's left trying to figure out which corridor he's in and which way his class is. 

Sirius didn't manage to fool Remus, of course, but Peter only lasted until lunch before he blurted out about the surprise party. James was pissed, but everything turned out in the end. The party was great, and Sirius got super drunk and tried to swing from the light fixture in the common room, which is a definite sign of success. Everyone who he liked turned up and sang again, this time James and Lily came out holding a cake with candles. 

As everyone stood circled around him and singing not very on-key, Sirius’s eyes caught yours in the crowd. He remembered his smile had widened when he saw that you came, like you said you would, and he could see the reflection of the lit candles from the cake in your pupils. Once he'd made his wish and blown out the candles, he went over to greet you with a slice of cake. You took it happily, and you both talked for some more as he enjoyed your dress. Then someone dragged him away for some stupid reason, and he was too drunk later in the night to go back over to you. 

Overall, Sirius had a great night celebrating himself with all of his friends, including you. 

A couple weeks later, he's in the common room with James and Lily. He's sprawled out on the sofa while the new couple share the armchair, Lily's legs hanging over one of the arms, James's hand resting comfortably on her knee, occasionally running up to her ankle or down to her thigh. Anyone looking on would think they've been together for years, not a little over three months. 

Sirius wonders how they can feel that close to each other so soon. Of course, they've known each other for years, and this relationship was definitely a long time coming. But before they were dating, they were hardly even friends. Sirius fully thought Lily hated James, or at least was annoyed by him constantly confessing his love for her. 

And then they arrived at King's Cross in September, and Lily ran straight up to James, jumping in his arms and kissing him as if he'd come back from war. Sirius and Remus had looked at each other, silently questioning if the other knew already. Neither did. Peter was less subtle, sputtering out an ungraceful, “what the fuck?” 

From then on, Sirius's life had changed in many subtle ways, and he didn't know how to feel about it. He likes Lily. Of course he does, it's hard not to. But when she and her friends were always crashing the marauders’ hang outs, always sitting with them at dinner…It's different, is all. Sirius will get used to it. 

“What about you, Sirius?” Lily says, and he snaps out of his thoughts. 

His head tilts, looking at her from a funny angle. “What about me?” 

“Do you like anyone? Is there a Mrs Black in our future?”

James scoffs before Sirius can answer, letting out a loud cackle. “I'd like to see someone try and tie down our Pads.” 

“Hey,” Sirius stretches his leg and pokes James with it, “people have tried. I'm very desirable. Everyone wants to marry me.” 

Now Lily laughs, too. 

“But no one catches your eye?” 

He thinks about you. You've met up quite a few times now, and it's always nothing more than casual, but it somehow feels more intimate than any of his previous relationships. Of course, you had fainted on him. Did it get closer than that? 

He can't see you guys getting married, obviously. He can't see himself wanting to spend more than a year with the same person, let alone the rest of his life. But maybe until he leaves school and you both naturally go separate ways, you wouldn't be bad company. Maybe he would find himself in James’s position in several months' time, if he wanted. He sighs, slinking further into the sofa cushions. “I'm young, Lil. Not all of us meet the love of our life at eleven. ‘Sides, I'm not into that crap.” 

“Told you,” James sing songs. “Pad's a free spirit, babe.” 

“I just thought it would be nice,” Lily says, and Sirius can't see them anymore but she must hit James or something, because he yelps. “Don't you think it would be fun to go on double dates?” 

“Oh, I'm not good enough for you, eh? I need a girlfriend to become interesting to hang out with.” 

“You know that's not what I mean,” she says, teasing. “You could never be boring, Sirius Black. You're a lot of things. But if you're boring, you're not Sirius.” 

“Great. I'll stick with being a third wheel, then. You can go on double dates with Pete and his girl.” 

“Isn't your friend Marlene dating someone?” James adds.

“No, not yet. She's got a major crush, though.”

They carry on talking between them, and Sirius is hit with the realisation that almost everyone around him is in a bloody relationship. When did everyone grow up and get so into commitment? Every one of his friends, apart from Remus, has a partner. 

He finds you in the library, reading with a pencil in your hand. Before he can talk himself out of it, he walks up to your table and smoothly takes a seat in the opposite chair. 

You look up, brushing your hair out of your face where it had fallen forwards. “Oh, hi.” You drop your pencil onto the book and close it, giving him your full attention. “We meeting tonight?” 

“Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to go for dinner,” he says, tipping his chin up. “On Saturday, in town.” 

Your eyes widen, leaning back in your seat. You pick the pencil up again, rotating it in your hands as you fiddle. “Um, Sirius…” You trail off.

“Yeah?” He's confused for a few seconds, and then it hits him. It sneaks up and then it's all at once like a bad rash, and he realises that he's being…rejected. That you don't want to go to dinner with him. Oddly enough, he had not expected that outcome. “Oh.” He doesn't know how to react. “No, that's fine, I shouldn't have asked. I guess I just figured, because we're–” 

You nod emphatically. “No, I know. We should've talked about it, made sure we were both on the same page.” You pause, and he hates the sympathy in your eyes, like you're afraid you'll break him with your words. He's not some fragile thing, he thinks, he can handle the truth. “I'm sorry.” 

“So…What is this, then? If you don't want to date.” 

You explain, fairly bluntly, if he does say so himself. You say that you thought this was just physical, that you don't want a boyfriend and that you didn't think he wanted a girlfriend. You say how you like how it's easy between you two, and there's no real expectations like there would be in a relationship. To make small talk, or listen to each other complain about their day. You make it clear that you're not doing this with anyone else for obvious reasons, so it's sort of like a relationship in that way, only way less pressure. 

When he first registers your words, he's not happy. His thoughts are clouded by the rejection a minute earlier, and he takes everything you say as a personal attack. He's boring? If you don't like him that way, then why are you both even doing this? 

But then you keep talking, and he zooms out to think about the big picture of what you're saying for a second. 

“Hang on,” he interrupts you. “So you're saying you just want to fuck? You want nothing else from me, no flowers, no dinners, nothing?” 

You cringe. “Is that okay?” 

He doesn't have to think about it. Damn James and Lily for making him think proper relationships were the goal, he was about to ruin the best thing to happen to him this year. 

“Hell yeah that's okay,” he says. “That's great.” 

For the first time since he sat down, you smile. “Cool. Good talk.” 

“Great talk.” He rises and gets ready to leave, slapping the table. “I guess I'll see you whenever, then. Stupid James.” 

December 

It is great, for a week or so. You've come to your dorm this time, and it's the first time Sirius is seeing where you sleep. It's very telling. 

You have stacks of books on your bedside table, and on the floor sticking out from under your bed. He has no idea how you don't trip every day. Going to the bathroom in the middle of the night must be like parkour, jumping from floorboard to floorboard trying not to knock over a pile or hurt your foot. If he was your boyfriend, he'd get you a proper bookshelf. But he's not.

It's afterwards, and there's something different in the air. Sirius can't tell if it's just him, or if something between you has changed. You have taken him to your dorm, after all. You've never done that before. You're both in your bed, which is definitely too small for two people. You're both lingering. Usually it's straight to business, and once that's over, you're out of there. Minus the time you fainted, though thankfully that's been a one time event so far.

You've propped yourself up with pillows, writing something in a notebook with a gentle, satiated look on your face. Sirius has his head on the mattress, by your hip. 

“Got any cigs?” He shifts his head to look up at you. 

You don't look away from what you're writing. “No, sorry. Don't smoke much.” You smile, still not looking at him, but he knows it's for him. “I'm not trying to have lung cancer by the time I'm thirty. Check Sadie's bed.” 

He stands, picking up his trousers from the floor and sliding them back on. “Which one?” 

“Left, by the window.” You still don't look up.

He finds a pack in the top draw, and fishes the matches out of his back pocket. The window creaks when he slides the hatch open, and he takes a seat on the windowsill, blowing the smoke outside. 

“What are you writing?” he asks after a while, once he's bored of smoking and wants to talk. 

“Hm?” 

“You're always writing in that notebook.” He puts out the cigarette, throws it out the window, and returns the pack to where he found it, coming back over to join you on the bed. In some foolish act of bravery, he rests his head on your chest. He tells himself it's because there's no room. 

The notebook snaps shut, and you hide it on the bed next to you, almost sitting on it. 

“Nothing,” you say. “Just stuff. My thoughts.” 

“Oh yeah?” He grins, looking at you sideways. “Any thoughts about me in there?” 

You shove him off you playfully. “Yes, actually.” 

He perks up in surprise, recovering quickly from the shove, like a meerkat. “Really? Give us a look.” 

When he reaches over you to grab the book, you roll over, clutching it away from him and safely to your chest. And in doing so, you roll onto the floor. You squeal, and the notebook opens during the fall, landing on folded pages which he can now see are full of writing. He has to decide whether to help you or steal the notebook while you're down. 

He ends up spending too long just looking at you—a mess of bent limbs on the ground–and you sit up. 

“Fuck you!” You laugh. 

“I think you already did that.” He sits back on his heels. “You really don't want me to see it, huh?” 

“No, you know what? I'll read it to you.” You pick it up, smoothing out the slightly bent pages. “Sirius Black is such an annoying git–” You break off into another squeal when he jumps forward, joining you on the floor and tackling you in the process. You fall back, nearly hitting your head, while he falls forward on top of you. “I wish he would take the hint and leave me al–” He cuts you off again, tickling under your arms.

“That's not what it says!” 

You aren't even pretending to read from the book anymore, your legs spasming out to try and protect yourself from the tickles. 

“Alone!” you resume. “He's lucky he's pretty because he is so–” You manage to get him off you, and he lands on the wooden floor beside you, staring up at the ceiling, out of breath– “Dumb,” you finish with a sigh.

He turns his head, being met with your side profile illuminated by the lamp light.

“So you think I'm pretty?” 

That evening, the whole gang have spread themselves out across the sofas in the common room. Rain patters against the window, but the fire blazes inside, creating a warm and cosy feeling in the air. James and Lily share the armchair, as has become their spot. Sirius is closest to the fire, sitting cross legged on the floor, bent forward to copy James's notes from the class he missed earlier. Remus, Pete, Marlene, and Mary have all squished onto the sofa. Marlene's blond hair dangles off the seat, though, as she sits upside down with her legs over the back. 

Sirius tried asking her why she was sitting that way, but she giggled and winked at him. He didn't try again. 

When he'd finished copying down the notes, he looked up, ready to pass them back to James, and saw that he was rather distracted. James had his face millimetres from Lily's as he spoke gently to her—Sirius couldn't hear what—with the widest grin on his face. When he finished, he kissed the corner of her mouth and her shoulders shook with giggles. 

It was like they were entirely in their own world, oblivious to the people around them and the argument happening on the sofa less than a metre away from them. 

Sirius didn't think much of it, apart from being happy for his friend and maybe wishing they could tone down the pda. Until the next morning. 

Now, Sirius rarely dreams. And when he does, he normally forgets them by the time he wakes up. Not this one. This one, he thinks about while he's getting dressed, while he's eating breakfast, while he's supposed to be listening to the professor and writing notes. Oh well, he can just borrow James's again. That's not a problem. 

What is a problem is that Sirius had a dream about you. And not the type he got when he was fourteen. In the dream, he had been James last night in the common room, and you…You had been Lily. On his lap, giggling at whatever he whispered to you as he kissed you as if he'd done it a million times before, like it was no big deal. And this time it was you that were oblivious to your friends as they talked around you both. 

It was lovely. It was terrible. It couldn't happen again. 

So, reluctantly, Sirius knows what he has to do. He's done it before, of course, only under completely different circumstances. Did your relationship even warrant a break-up? What would you do if he just started running away from you if you approached him in the hall? 

Well, he may have been a bit of a clueless idiot, but he knew well enough not to do that. He just really didn't want to have that conversation. 

He waits until the end of term to do it, thinking he'll need two weeks where he physically can't see you to get over it. And he really needs to get over it, because he's just pissing himself off now. This isn't like him, not at all. It's almost like he's growing up or some bullshit, but he's eighteen, he doesn't need to grow up yet. 

He sends you a note via paper aeroplane, how he usually would to ask you to meet, except this time it says, ‘I need to talk to you,’ instead of the usual, ‘meet in fifteen?’

The paper flies into your chest, and you crouch to the floor to pick it up and read the inside. When you look back up, your eyes search the room for Sirius before finding him leaning against the wall further down the hall. Classes have just let out for the day, also meaning they've let out for the rest of the calendar year. Sirius officially has no more school until 1978, although he has plenty of homework he doesn't plan on doing. 

You catch up to him, taking a space on the bit of wall beside him, eyebrows furrowed. “What's up?” 

He doesn't miss a beat. He'd figured out what he was going to say while he fell asleep the night before, knowing that if he left it to the moment he'd probably say something shitty and offend you by accident. “I think we should stop having sex. I like someone else, I think, it's nothing about you! But, yeah, I guess we should…stop.” 

Maybe this wasn't a conversation to have in the middle of the corridor, but it's too late now. He didn't want to suggest going somewhere private in case you took that the wrong way, and started kissing him, or touching him, and Merlin knows…Sirius is a weak man. Plus, it's not like he's lying to you. He does like someone. Too much. And he has to stay away from them. 

You nod, smiling very wide. Almost too wide.  “Oh, cool, well I'm happy for you. Is that all?” 

“Is–” He'd half expected more of a reaction.  You could at least have the decency to look a little disappointed. “Yeah, that's all. Wow, I thought that would go so much worse.” 

If possible, your smile gets wider. If Sirius wasn't so preoccupied about not making a dick of himself, he might notice that it's nothing like your usual smile. 

“Great. Okay then. Bye.” You walk away without looking back. 

January 

Sirius turns the corner with James next to him, probably talking about quidditch or Lily. These days, it's usually one of the two. But he stops when he sees the boy leaning against the wall next to the portrait entrance to the common room. James must see him too because he shuts up, shooting a questioning look to Sirius.  

“Regulus?” Sirius says.

The boy looks up, not having heard them approach. He looks a bit like a kicked puppy, but he doesn't seem physically hurt anywhere. Sirius knows it must be bad, because Regulus is coming to him, and he hasn't spoken a word to him since the night he left. He remembers it as if it was just last week, the sliver of Regulus's face visible from the cracked open door, the way he pleaded with Sirius not to go, not to leave him. But of course Sirius did go, he did leave him. And Regulus had never forgiven him. Until now…maybe? 

Sirius gestures for James to go ahead while he sees what this is about, and he climbs through the portrait without looking back.

“What happened?” Sirius wastes no time.

“Did you not get my letter? I sent it to the address you gave me.” 

Sirius sighs. He did get the letter, but he recognised the seal and thought it was from his mother, charming it to go up in flames as soon as he realised. Why would Regulus write to him? “No,” he replies stiffly. “What happened?” 

“They're trying to get me to marry someone. A girl. They said the betrothal ceremony will be in the summer, and the actual marriage once I'm eighteen.” Sirius notices tears in his brother's eyes. He hasn't seen Regulus cry since they were little kids, he figured Regulus would throw himself off the roof before he let anyone see him cry. “They can't do that, can they? You can't let them do it, Sirius. Please.” 

Sirius's heart breaks at the absolute fear in his brother's voice. He wants to tell him he can stop them, that he knows exactly what to do to get him out of this and he will. But there's only one thing he can think of to say.

“You have to run. Just get out of that house, and don't look back. That's your only option.” 

“It can't be.” Regulus looks down at the floor, wiping at his eyes roughly. “Can't you talk to them? Or– Or do something. Something, please.” He finally met Sirius's eyes. “I can't run. They'll find me. There's nowhere for me to go.” 

“They didn't care when I left.” 

Regulus opens his mouth to say something, but stops. He sighs deeply, and says, “It's different for me.” 

I'm a slytherin. That's what he means. Sirius doesn't even care anymore. 

“Come to James's. His parents will protect you.” 

He silently studies the floor, lip trembling and blinking fast. Sirius can only watch. Eventually Regulus shakes his head, clenches his fists and says, “Forget about it. I'll figure out what to do, like I always have to,” and before Sirius can stop him, he storms away, up a staircase. 

He tries to run after him, but the fucking moving stairs move, and in the time Sirius is stuck trying to figure out which route to take, Regulus is long out of sight. He doesn't know what he'd even say to him if he did catch up to him. They aren't kids anymore, that much is obvious. 

At least when they were kids, Regulus still came to Sirius when he was upset, no matter how mad they were at each other. Usually in the middle of the night, Regulus would sneak into Sirius's room and under his covers. Sirius would make him feel better with a simple cuddle or a cup of warm milk, that was all it took when they were six.

There are less than two years between them, but Sirius always felt much older, much more protective of Regulus than perhaps he should've. 

Now that they're older, Sirius fears he can't fix things with a cuddle and warm milk. In fact, he thinks if he tried to hug his little brother, he might get punched in the face. He tried to ignore the panic that sets into his bones. If Regulus never forgives Sirius for leaving, will they ever speak again? When they're adults, will they just live separate lives? Will their kids even know each other? If they're walking in the street, and run into each other, will Sirius’s kids scream ‘uncle regulus!!!’ or will they ask him, ‘who's that, daddy?’ 

“You're pathetic.” 

Sirius tilts his head to the side without taking his eyes off you. “Hm?” he says, distracted. James, on his right, elbows his side. Hard. “Wha– Ow!” Sirius's hand goes to rub his side as he whips his head around to look at the culprit. James is smirking, not a trace of guilt on his face. “You fucking bitch.” 

“So who's your girlfriend?” 

Sirius winces. “She's not my girlfriend.” 

Mary, who'd been the one to call him pathetic, says, “You sure? You were getting pretty moony eyed for a second there.” 

“I was not.” 

“Mate, you so were. Lily'll be thrilled, she'll force us to go on double dates.” 

“No,” Sirius replies, surprising himself with the sternness in his voice. “She's not my girlfriend, she's never going to be my girlfriend. I don't want her to be, anyway. Can we just drop this?” 

Mary gasps. “Did she reject you?” 

“Of course not.” 

“She definitely did. That's why you like her so much, cause you've never been rejected before.” He debates whether its worth it to use his fork to stab his hand to get out of this conversation. There's no other way, they have him surrounded on both sides. He could slip underneath the table and crawl out, maybe. He'll wait to see if it comes to it, but it's good to have something in his back pocket in case. “Oh, Sirius, you're so not as mysterious as you think you are.” 

His brows furrow. He is mysterious. Right? He's dark and mysterious and moody. “What is this, insult Sirius Black night?” 

“Let me ask you this, did you even have a conversation with her before you asked her out?” 

“Oh yeah,” James adds, “for some reason they like to know who you are before going out with you. Women are strange creatures.” 

Sirius scoffs. “She knows who I am.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Well, I've had my dick in her, so I would hope so.” 

They both fall quiet. It feels like the entire hall went quiet at that moment, and that the whole school just heard him say that. Thankfully, it's not the case, and Sirius can hear Remus still talking about some book to Lily and the rest of the usual dinner-hall chatter. 

“Mate,” James says, struggling not to laugh. 

“Shut up.” 

“If you know she likes you then what's the problem?” asks Mary. Sirius has no idea why she cares so much, but he doesn't say anything. He stares down at his plate, moving about some roast potatoes with his fork instead of stabbing his hand. Or the potatoes, to eat them. After a minute of this tense silence, where Sirius is sure James and Mary are silently communicating over the top of his head, James gasps. 

“You actually like her. For real, like her. But she doesn't feel the same way, does she?” He pats Sirius on the back roughly. “That's tough mate, I've been there.” 

Their entire year knew James had been there, Sirius doesn't know why he said it as if it was new information. 

“Stop talking, please,” he grits out. 

“It's alright!” James replies cheerfully. “You can do what I did. Remember when I got you and the guys to make me do push ups every time you saw me staring at Lily, or if I brought her up in conversation?” 

Sirius looks at his best friend blankly. “You're dating Lily now.” 

James smiles brightly. “You bet I am.” 

“So how exactly is that supposed to help me?” 

Mary nudges her elbow into his, gentler than James had five minutes ago. “You'll get really muscly arms.” 

Sirius puts his head in his hands, sighing. 

But he does take on James's suggestion in the end, and if one of the marauders or Mary catches him looking at you, he has to get on the floor and give ten push ups. It's very embarrassing, especially if they're in public and his friends decide it would be hilarious to wolf whistle at him. 

They turned it into a bit of a game, to be honest. If one of the girls gets on Sirius’s back while he does them, he gets double points. If he does them one-handed, he only has to do five. He's yet to try one handed. If he sings a silly song, he gets triple points. It's unclear what points mean, if anything, but McGonagol did walk in on them while Sirius was singing a silly song, with Marlene on his back. 

The worst part was, she didn't even say anything. She stared for a few seconds, and all of them stared back, before nodding and leaving without a word. They all burst into laughter and Marlene fell onto the floor. 

In class it's not much of a problem, because Sirius doesn't share any of your classes, but one time he accidentally said your name when talking to Peter so of course, the devil that he is, made him do them right there in the classroom. He did them at the back of the class, and somehow got to ten and sat back down without the teacher batting an eye. 

February 

For valentines day, a group of fifth years decided to throw a party for people without someone to celebrate with. And of course, the older years were invited solely because of their access to alcohol. Sirius wasn't complaining, though. He'd rather go to a party and get drunk and have fun than get drunk and smoke by himself in the dorm. James had plans with Lily, of course, having been planning for this since Christmas. Peter somehow still had a girlfriend, and was spending the evening with her. Remus had said he had ‘a date with a book’ when Sirius asked his plans, so Sirius went alone to the party. But he definitely didn't leave alone…

Sirius rolls over in bed, drifting in that soft not-quite-awake-not-quite-asleep level of consciousness. It's warm. He already knows he's going to have a pounding headache today. He doesn't want to get up yet. 

Something moves his arm gently back to his side, his hand brushing against his stomach. He groans, and moves it back. It's cramped enough as it is in his single bed. But it moves back again, a bit rougher this time. Well. That's strange. 

Sirius pries his eyes open, squinting through the sunlight to see a body next to him. I guess last night went better than expected, he thinks. But then he looks at the face, and sees…you. Fuck. You, in his bed. Which means you're in his dorm, where three other people are. His friends. Who knows he likes you, and that he's trying not to, and they're only a tug of a curtain away. Fuck again. If they see you, that's got to be like a thousand push ups. But how is he supposed to get you out without any of them seeing? He can't even open the curtains at the moment without anyone seeing you. 

Deciding it's too early for problem solving, especially when he has a hangover, he relaxes his body again and tries to get some more sleep. But it's hard to find a comfy position again, so after bending his legs and contorting his body every which way, he gives in and wraps an arm around you, pulling you to him so that you're kind of spooning. You make a mumbling, humming noise, but he can tell you're still in dreamland and soon your body melts back into his. He joins you, falling asleep comfortably with you in his arms. 

The next time he wakes up, he's got a big, cocky smile on his face until he realises you're not next to him anymore. He shoots up in panic until he sees that you haven't gone far at all. You're on your knees near the foot of the bed, facing away from him, sliding back on your clothes from last night. Your head is cocked to the side in a way that makes him think you're listening for something, maybe getting ready to leave and making sure the coast is clear. 

He pokes at your thigh with his foot, and you squeal, quickly muffling it with your hands and turning around to look at him. You crawl closer, back over to him to lie on your side, resting on your elbow.

Shh, he mouths, finger to his lips. He leans back on both elbows with a groan. 

“Me shh?” You repeat, hardly a whisper. “I was quiet before you poked me. You shh.” 

He can't help but smile. He hadn't realised, but he missed the short conversations you guys had. You always manage to bring out his silly side, whether that's for better or for worse. 

“I'll shh,” he says. And then you're both quiet for a minute. Someone’s in the shower, Sirius can hear it running. He doesn't know where any of the others are, if they're even still in the dorm. He doesn't know what the fucking time is. 

Finally, he can't handle the quiet anymore. “We really fucked up.”

“You think I don't know that, Mr Smartipants?” 

“No, like we really fucked up.” He rubs his forehead. “How much did we drink?” 

You smirk. “Oh, you drank a lot. I think it's cause none of your mates were there to slow you down.” You pause, now frowning. “I think you fell off a table.” Well, that explained the headache. “No– I think you jumped off a table. You must be a suicidal drunk.” 

“I have been told.” Sirius nods gravely. 

You're quiet again for a while until suddenly, your face loses all lightness. You look at him, alarmed, very serious. “Did–” you break off, sitting up properly. “You used protection, right? I mean, I know we were drunk, but we weren't that drunk.” 

Sirius thinks back, but he genuinely can't remember. He can't even really remember you guys hooking up, or much of the night before that. His head really hurts. “Are you sure we even did anything?” 

You look at him like he said something ridiculous. Then your eyes go to his naked chest, and the rustled sheets, and then your bra, silently saying ‘all signs point to yes!’ You must not have seen your bra before, because you lean forward and snatch it up, not bothering to put it on. 

“I'm sure, Sirius.” 

“How can you be s–” 

“I can feel it,” you say flatly. 

He tilts his head. “Feel it? What does it feel like? Like…a post-sex glow?” 

You look down at the sheets as if debating whether to tell him or not. When you look up, your lips are pulled tight and you say, “sore.” 

He has a sneaking feeling that you'll slap him if he smirks, so he tries to hold back. Instead he says, “Oh. I didn't know it hurt afterwards. Does that happen every time?” 

You're still glaring at him. He fights the urge to smile.

“I have to go,” you say. “We can't do this again. For real this time.” 

A couple days later, he finds you in the library. He checked the map today because he really needed to talk to you. It seems like he's always the one going up to you, you're definitely working him hard in this non-relationship. But he's nervous today. He doesn't try to sit down in the other seat at your table like he would normally, instead choosing to stand behind it, gripping the back like a lifeline. 

“Hey,” he says, quieter than usual.

You look up, and instead of getting mad like he half expected you to, your eyes soften. Almost like you were expecting him. 

“I, uh, remember now,” he continues, this time speaking quietly so that no one overhears. “And I think you were right, about me not…” 

“I took a pill,” you interrupt. “It's fine. We're good.” 

He raises his eyebrows. “You did?” 

You nod. “It's all handled, you don't have to worry. How's your head?” 

“You tell me.” 

“What?” 

“I've never had any complaints.” 

You stare at him for a moment, seemingly also confused, and then roll your eyes, lips twitching like you're fighting a smile. “I meant the head attached to your neck.” 

“Oh! Yeah, I have a concussion, but I'm fine.” 

You frown, like his pain causes you pain, and it does something to his heart that he finds unsettling. No, you dumb fuck, she's just a nice person. With empathy. Remember that old thing? It doesn't mean anything.

Awkwardly, Sirius says goodbye and leaves you in the library. But he's still thinking about you as he walks the halls, and he knows that it's going to be even more of a struggle now not to go up and talk to you every time he sees you. Maybe he should up it to twenty push ups every time. 

At the start of the year, he'd thought it would be easy to be in a casual relationship. That he wouldn't even think about you unless he was with you. He'd thought he was the cleverest person alive, getting to be with a hot girl and not have to do any of the other relationship crap. But now he felt like the dumbest person alive. 

He knew you didn't have feelings for him other than finding him attractive, you'd made that perfectly clear from the start and throughout. You're not interested. So it's his own fault now that he actually likes someone—properly—for what he thinks is the first time in his life. He's been in proper relationships, sure, and they were nice enough, but eventually they started to feel like burdens. Like another thing on his to do list, another thing he'll try at and fail. 

He's messed up so bad, let himself get so deep, that he's now noticing things and thinking of you. 

How novel. It needs to stop.

When it snowed a couple weeks ago, he wanted to go and find you, to tell you about it as if you couldn't see for yourself. Maybe you would've had your nose in a book, and he'd be the one to tell you, and he'd be the one who put a smile on your face. He's never cared about snow before. It's the fucking weather, shit falls from the sky all the time, theres nothing special about it. It's not the snow that's special, he reminds himself, it's you. But everything is better when you're with another person, surely it's not exclusive to you. 

Sirius couldn't quite bring himself to go and find one of his friends to experience the snow with them, they'd probably make fun of him. 

With the realisation that his little crush was getting out of hand, and he was losing himself—getting flustered about the snow? Come on—Sirius decided he had to do something about it. Something more than just push ups every time his friends caught him mentioning you in conversation. That clearly wasn't working, if the Valentine's party was anything to go by.

So he does the only thing he can think of. He distracts himself.

March 

It's a cloudy Saturday afternoon and Sirius, for reasons he's failing to remember, finds himself in the library, studying. It was Remus's idea. Or rather, Remus mentioned that he was going to study in the library and Sirius invited himself along. Fuck knows why he thought that was a good way to spend a weekend afternoon. 

He's been coming here a lot lately, rarely on his own because he always ends up getting distracted and more times than not, a detention. But he'll tag along with Remus, James, whoever. He even crashed a study date with Marlene and her girlfriend one week, but they didn't seem to mind. Sirius doesn't actually need to study that much, but he usually finds a book interesting enough or he simply hands in his homework on time for once. He's sure to worry his teachers if this plays on for too long. 

Being in a castle in the middle of nowhere in Scotland, there weren't many distractions, so Sirius could only do his best. He'd been doing more training with James, which his muscles did not thank him for, although between regularly working out and all the push ups, he was becoming very fit. Because of this, he'd also become a bath person. 

After a long day, a shower was just so unappealing in comparison to getting straight into bed. Especially their leaky shower with terrible water pressure. So he'd started having a warm bath, both to soothe his aches and because James tires him out so much on the field, it's easier to wash lying down. 

When you add candles, a cigarette or two, and a record into a mix, it's actually quite nice. Sirius can now say that he gets the appeal.

Not that he would ever admit it to anyone.

The good thing about all this was that it actually seems to be working. Sirius is a genius. You very rarely cross his mind out of the blue anymore, and it probably helps that it hasn't snowed, but he's never wanted to come and find you to tell you something. You never really did that in the first place, he supposes. 

“You're going to fall and crack your head,” says Remus without looking up from his papers. 

Sirius holds onto the shelf as he tries to balance on the back of a chair. “I'm getting a book from the top shelf.” 

Remus hums. “Which book?” 

“The…book. It's just a book.” Sirius stutters, and loses his grips briefly on the shelf. He tilts backwards with the chair but manages to get it forward again, restabilising himself. “Hey, we should bring our brooms here before the end of the year. I reckon it'll be...” He trails off when he sees, over the top of the bookshelf, you. With Regulus. In fact, Regulus has a hold of your arm, and is dragging you with him towards the front of the library.

“Will anyone be in your dorm?” Sirius hears him say. He hasn't seen or spoken to his brother since January, when he told him their parents were arranging him to get married, and this is...different.

He almost falls off the chair. Surely he can't mean…his little brother…and you…does he even know what that is? But surely you wouldn't…it has to be against some sort of rule to have two brothers. Surely. 

“No,” you're replying. “But I don't know if this is a good idea–” 

Good. Say no. Don't go with him.

“We'll only be quick. How long do those things take, like five minutes?” 

Oh, sweet Merlin's tits. There's just no way that this is happening. No way! And five minutes? No fucking WAY! He had guessed Regulus is inexperienced in that department, but he almost laughed at the genuine curiosity in his voice. If it only lasted five minutes, Sirius didn't have anything to worry about. 

But he shouldn't have anything to worry about anyway, because you're not his. You can do whatever you want. It's his own fault you're not doing it with him anymore.

He watches you, still getting dragged by Regulus. You look nervous, even, which Sirius is confused by. You never had any trouble speaking your mind with him. 

“Um,” you say, “a little longer, I think. I don't know–” 

Sirius doesn't have a chance to hear the rest, because he's falling backwards, his head hitting the carpet with a hard thud. Pain shoots through from the back of his head and he groans, sorely sitting up. 

“Told you so,” Remus says, still without looking up from the textbook. 

“Oh fuck you.” 

There goes all the progress he'd made for getting over you. 

April 

The next few weeks, it's almost like he's jinxed himself by thinking he'd finally managed to forget about you. Now, you're everywhere. Since he saw you in the library, he's run into you at a party—with regulus, he might add—and, possibly even worse, he saw you shopping for lingerie with Marlene's girlfriend. 

Were you really going out with Regulus? Of all people? 

This evening, though, he hasn't so much as run into as spotted you across the room. It's not unusual for you to be in the dinner hall at the same time, but this particular time is like the final nail in the coffin. 

He can't get away from you. 

You're seemingly sat with a group of people—at least, they keep talking to you, and you either give them one-word answers or a simple smile before going back to your plate, but rarely eat anything. 

It's not as if Sirius is watching you like a creepy fucking stalker would. No, there's no creepy fucking stalker here. It's just that you're sitting right in his eyeline; even if he wasn't looking at you, you'd still be there in the corner of his eye. 

“Hey,” he nudges Remus, sitting on his right. The girls are bust tonight, or something, and it's a rare evening with just the marauders at dinner. “Does y/n look okay to you?” 

“Pads, come on.” Remus sets his fork down, giving him an unimpressed look. “Just eat your fucking food and I won't make you do push ups.” 

“I'm being serious,” he insists, “I'm genuinely concerned, she doesn't look well.” 

Your cheeks have definitely lost some colour, he thinks, turning back to watch you. And you're eating so slowly, like you feel sick and are only eating because you have to. 

“Why don't you go and ask her?” Remus says dryly. “Remember to mention that she doesn't look well, I'm sure she'll love that.” 

James leans forward to add more chips to his plate, simultaneously dipping his nose in their conversation. “What's that?” he says to Remus. 

“Old loverboy over here is genuinely concerned about y/n.” 

James snorts, dipping a chip in barbecue sauce. “She's not yours to be genuinely concerned about, mate. Now come on, you know the drill by now.” 

Sirius groans, dramatically throwing his head back before getting up and lowering himself to the floor in position. He does the ten, he hardly breaks a sweat when he has to do them now, but he still thinks you look ill once he's finished. 

Sirius can only think about his bed. 

“You're such a baby. Stop limping, it wasn't that bad.” 

He groans, wanting to whack James in the face, but that would mean lifting his arm, and he doesn't think he can even if he really wants to. James really worked him hard tonight, they don't even have any games coming up. Next time James offers to train with Sirius, he will say no. He knows that now. 

“You,” he breathes out, “are evil. You tried to kill me.” 

They reach the dorm at last, and Sirius waits for James to open the door. He shoots straight for his bed, flopping on top of the covers dramatically and groaning with relief. 

“I take it training went well?” Remus asks from his bed opposite. 

“He's just being a drama queen,” James says before grabbing a towel and heading for the bathroom. 

“He's trying to kill me, moony!” He stares up at the ceiling with a scowl, listening as Remus laughs. “Hey, that's a song isn't it? Drama queen?” Taking deep steady breaths, Sirius maneuvers himself into a sitting position so he can look at Remus while they talk. He's shirtless, just in pyjama bottoms, with a harsh bandage wrapped around his shoulder. Other than that, it seems like he had a rather successful full moon last night. “I think y/n likes that song.” 

The werewolf gives him an unimpressed look, which…isn't that different from how he normally looks at Sirius, but he still raises his eyebrows, silently asking what this one means. 

“That's push ups,” he says. 

Sirius groans, holding back a scream, and realises his mistake. “Mate, if I do ten push ups I won't get back up until Sunday.” 

“It's your own rules,” Remus laughs. He's a real giggleshit tonight, isn't he? “You wanted to be held accountable, so we're holding you accountable. I saw her today, actually. And I think the song you mean is Dancing Queen, not Drama Queen.” 

“What?” Sirius demands, ignoring that last part. “You saw her? Where?” 

He seems to contemplate it for a second, like he's not so sure he should be telling Sirius this. “The infirmary.” 

“What?” Sirius repeats, even more urgently. “What do you mean?” 

“Wow, you actually like her, don't you?” 

What a stupid fucking question. “No.” Neither of them believe it. “It doesn't matter anyway.” 

Remus is quiet for a while. Then, “I think she's seeing someone.” he pauses. “Sorry, mate.” 

Sirius shakes his head. He would've noticed if you were dating someone, and you're  always alone when he sees you in the halls. Not to mention your conversation a few months prior, the whole reason Sirius was left feeling like James of all people recently. 

“You see her snogging someone?” he asks.

Remus recoils slightly, giving him an odd look. “Um, no.” 

“I'm not worried. She said she doesn't want a boyfriend or anything.” 

“So you told her how you feel?” 

Sirius tries not to cringe at his use of ‘feel.’ It just feels so…emotional. And Sirius is not emotional. “Are you joking? Of course not, you muppet.” 

“So how do you know she doesn't want a relationship?” 

“She told me. Very plainly, back when we were…messing about.” 

“You–?” Remus sits forward urgently. “Define messing about.” 

“Alright perv.” 

“I'm serious.” 

“I thought I was–” 

“She's pregnant!” 

It's silent. Neither of them speak. The only sound is the faint run of the shower and James quietly humming to himself in the bathroom. 

Sirius feels all the blood drain slowly out of his face. His vision goes blurry for a moment, but he blinks forcefully a couple times and it goes back to normal. Remus is watching him anxiously. 

“Where's the map?” Sirius says, leaning over to check his bedside table. His body aches with the stretch and he tries to ignore it. 

“You're not going over there now,” Remus says sternly. “It's nearly eleven pm.” 

“Where the fuck is the fucking map?!” He groans when he stands, and has to sit down again briefly before getting right back up again. As he walks, he can feel his muscles screaming for him to stop, to lie back down.

Then he realises that's just Remus. 

He finds the map on Peter's bedside table, and feels Remus behind his shoulder as they wait for it to appear on the currently blank parchment. 

“Are you sure?” Sirius asks, though he knows Remus wouldn't have said if he wasn't. “How do you know?”

He just nods, eyes trained on the paper. “I could hear the heartbeat.” 

That causes Sirius to stop for a moment. “Hang on, you can hear our heart beats?” 

“Not all the time,” Remus says, in a tone that lets Sirius know to drop it. He returns his attention to the map. 

They quickly find the Slytherin common room and dorms, eyes scanning frantically for your name. When he spots it, Sirius nearly tears the map into pieces. 

“Please tell me I'm hallucinating because of the shock,” he says, forcing himself to be calm as he hands the map over to Remus. Remus already saw it but pretends to check again. He looks like he's trying not to laugh, the corner of his lips lifting up ever so slightly before he regains control of them. 

“No way.” Remus shakes his head, now using his hand to cover his snicker. “That must be a glitch, or–” he breaks off to laugh. Sirius wants to slap him and get him to realise how serious the situation is for him. “Or something,” Remus finishes. 

Before they can speculate any more, Peter bursts through the door, cheeks flushed red from exertion. 

“Oi, what are you two doing by my bed? What have you done to it?” 

Wordlessly, they both agree to return to their own beds. Sirius is still limping. 

Peter stands a metre away from his bed, eyeing it suspiciously before daring to step any closer. “Genuinely, what the fuck'd you do?” 

“Nothing, wormy,” Remus says. “We were just looking at the map.” Then he turns to Sirius, who's sitting on the edge of his bed looking down at his hands. “You can ask her tomorrow, okay? Get some sleep.” 

Sirius nods, knowing there's no point going now. He can't walk that far, and he doesn't even know what he'll say yet. But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. 

His own brother, and his…whatever you are. Mother of his child, apparently. Wow, that's big. That's fucking huge. He's going to have a kid? Is he ready for that? 

He just can't believe you like Regulus. Of course, he saw you together at the party a couple weeks ago, but he mainly used it as an excuse to come and talk to you. He didn't actually think you'd be into someone like his brother. He was wearing a cape, for Merlin's sake. But he did see you also in the library, a few days before the party…And in Hogsmeade with that other girl, shopping for lingerie. 

Sirius scoots back, lying his head on the pillow and waving his wand to close the curtains to give himself some privacy. For hours, he lies there, listening to the sounds of the dorm and thinking. Just thinking. About everything.