Dastardly Plans

Dastardly Plans

Summary: You plot revenge, Anthony finds it incredibly attractive.

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

“Would you be so kind as to help me plot a murder,” You stated as soon as you stepped foot into Anthony’s study.

“I’m sorry but what did you just say my darling wife, I must of misheard you?”

“I need help with planning a murder, do keep up my love. Maybe you were the wrong choice, perhaps I shall approach Eloise instead, she seems a bit more quick witted”

“Don’t you dare. I was just making sure I heard correctly, I never said no. But just out of curiosity who are we killing and why?”

“That silly Miss Connors. Francesca just confided that she’s be coming up to her at every ball saying hurtful remarks. She even had the audacity to step on her gown causing a terrible rip. The wretch is clearly jealous of Franny, and I will have none of it. So I’ve been thinking the best way to get rid of the Miss Connors problem will be to never have to see her face again. Argo murder! Really it’s a two birds one stone situation because it will show the Ton the consequences of messing with the Bridgertons, especially while I’m Viscountess.”

Anthony started at you, his mouth wide open in awe and his eyes shining with desire. Your defence of his siblings was not only endearing but incredibly sexy.

“Honey, you still there. Yes or no to murder, I don’t have all day.”

“Absolutely yes. In fact I know Colin mentioned a substance he came across on the continent which was deadly yet odourless. One drop in the dreadful girls tea and mission accomplished”

“I knew I married you for a reason” you smirked, bringing Anthony in for a kiss.

————

Hope you all enjoyed. Feel free to send through any requests x

Very Demure | ACOTAR x Witch Reader

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[season of the witch masterlist]

warnings: none

a/n: The aftermath of the "very mindful, very cutesy, very demure" trend from tiktok. These are drabbles and include Az, Cas & Eris. But Az's is probably the longest at 1K words and no longer a drabble lol, Cas's is 700 and Eris's is 850.

moon divider by @tsunami-of-tears <3

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Azriel x Green Witch

The scent of earth and herbs filled the air as you approached your patch of snapdragons, their vibrant green stems standing tall but flowerless. Kneeling beside them, you set down the small, ceramic watering can filled to the brim with moon water and reach out to touch the leaves, your fingers trailing over them as delicately as the breeze. 

“Good morning, my little ones,” you murmured. "How are you feeling today?"

Your garden came to life, the plants surrounding you swaying slightly in response. All, except for the shy yet stubborn snapdragons.

You frowned. 

“The soil is rich and I’ve kept the pests at bay. I’ve planted you where the sun is bright and the air is cool. Very thoughtful of me, isn’t it?”

The snapdragons still did not respond.

With a sigh, you began to water them. Snapdragons were native to Autumn and thrived during the cooler months. From what you read, these flowers had a personality of their own and despite being named after the brazen beasts that soared in the skies, they were demure.

You knew it would be difficult to get them to bloom here in the Night Court but as the Autumn season approached, you were determined to grow them yourself. Their seeds could be used to make healing oils and if the stubborn flowers favored you, they would grace you with their small but mighty fire breath that you could use to make a warming potion.

“See how I’m not overwatering you? Very mindful.” You continued, setting the watering can back down, using the oldest trick in the book. Like calls to like and if you could show the flowers that you could be like them, perhaps they’d bless you by blossoming. 

“I’m not doing too much. Very demure."

You smiled fondly at them, knowing they were listening. "I understand that a beauty like yours cannot be rushed. But know that I am waiting to see your colors, to feel the warmth you bring.”

As if finally acknowledging your presence, one snapdragon in particular—a tiny bud, the smallest of them all—quivered ever so slightly. You leaned closer, your heart swelling with hope when a shadow came over you.

You rose to your feet, brushing at the dirt on your skirts as you turned around. The corners of your mouth curved upward, your heart fluttering with that familiar, gentle tug deep within your chest—the unmistakable pull of his presence.

“Azriel.” You greeted as his familiar form emerged from the shadows.

His wings shuddered, his shadows dispersing like ink in water, revealing him before they settled at his feet. As always, a few of the inky tendrils reached out to you, caressing your skin with their smooth, cool touch. One, more daring than the others, wrapped itself around your arm and nestled there, refusing to let go.

“Looks like someone missed me.” You laughed.

“I missed you more.” Azriel grinned, taking a step forward.

He reached out, his hand brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering against your cheek. You gasped at the chill of his skin, your brows knitting together in concern as you clasped his hand between your own. “Cauldron above, you’re freezing!”

You reached for his other hand, gathering both of his scarred hands into your warm grasp. The rough texture of his skin contrasted sharply with the softness of your touch, and your heart ached at the thought of him enduring such cold, worried it’d bring him more pain.

“I’m used to it,” Azriel murmured, his tone dismissive as he shrugged off your concern. “Illyria’s temperatures have always been brutal.”

But you couldn’t shake the worry. Azriel tried to pull his hands away, but you held on tighter, green magic swirling around his fingers, gently massaging the ridged scars. His right wing twitched under your fussing, and you brought his hands to your lips, pressing soft kisses to the backs of each one. 

Your lips against his skin felt like a soothing balm, and he could feel warmth spreading from his hands up to his neck, making his breath hitch.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be able to brew a potion that will keep you warm at all times soon.”

“It’s okay, don’t trouble yourself. I can handle a little cold every now and then,” he replied, trying to downplay the discomfort, but you frowned up at him.

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.”

You released his hands, the warmth of your magic still wrapped around him. The idea of a warming potion was tempting, but Azriel knew how overwhelmed you were with requests from other fae in need. He could wait—there were others who needed you more. Yet, when he looked into your eyes, filled with such fierce affection and determination, he knew he wouldn’t win this argument.

Azriel’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “That’s very thoughtful of you,” he murmured.

You grinned up at him, your eyes sparkling. “Very demure.”

“What?” He asked, puzzled by your teasing tone.

Before you could respond, a gentle breeze brushed past, drawing your attention back to the patch of snapdragons. Azriel followed your gaze, his hazel eyes curious. The small bud that had been trembling moments before began to unfurl, its petals peeling back like layers of silk. Your breath caught in your throat as the snapdragon revealed itself in all its glory—a vibrant bloom of deep crimson, its edges kissed with gold.

"There you are," you breathed, your voice filled with wonder. "Oh, you are magnificent."

The bloom seemed to bask in your praise, its petals resembling a dragon’s mouth opening wide. A small cloud of smoke puffed from the center, followed by a gentle hiss, and then, with a tiny roar, the snapdragon emitted a small burst of fire. Instinctively, Azriel’s arms tightened around you, but you placed a calming hand on his chest.

“I knew you could do it,” you said to the flower, your heart swelling with pride and joy.

Cassian x Love Witch

Cassian dropped his toast, eyes widening as you walked into the kitchen, humming softly to yourself. The tune was light, almost suspiciously nonchalant, but it was your outfit that truly caught him off guard. He swallowed the food in his mouth, clearing his throat as he tried to process what he was seeing. 

“What are you wearing?”

“Good morning to you too,” you replied with a sweet smile, leaning in to kiss his cheek before gliding past him to the steaming cup of coffee waiting for you.

Cassian blinked, still in disbelief. “What are you wearing?” he repeated.  Your usual vibrant pinks were replaced by muted tones—dark navy pants, a soft beige top, and matching flats. The only hint of pink was in the pearl earrings dangling from your ears, and even those were a subtle shade, almost blending in.

Cassian could count on one hand the number of times you’d worn anything other than your signature bright pinks. One of them being your wedding day, where you wore a beautiful white dress but even then, your platform heels were a bold hot pink.

“Clothes.” You answered simply, leaning against the kitchen counter to face him.

“I see that…,” Cassian exhaled, blinking as if trying to wake from a strange dream. But this was real, and it was slightly unsettling. “But why?”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in your eyes as you sipped your coffee. “Are you asking me why I’m wearing clothes?”

“Sweetheart, you know exactly what I’m asking.”

You sighed, the lightheartedness fading from your eyes as you wrapped your arms around yourself, a gesture that sent a ripple of unease through him. “I’m going to try and be a little more… demure.”

“What?”

“Try and be a little more demure.” You repeated.

“Demure,” Cassian chuckled. At the sight of your lips curving down into a frown, all amusement drained from Cassian’s face and his heart tightened. “Oh, you were serious?”

When you remained silent, Cassian stood, concern replacing his earlier confusion. He closed the distance between you, his large hand gently lifting your chin, coaxing your gaze to meet his. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you replied honestly, though there was a hint of uncertainty in your voice. “It’s just… I overheard some fae at Rita’s talking about this trend. To not do too much, to be more subtle, to be demure.”

Cassian’s brow furrowed as he studied you, a small, tender smile forming on his lips. “Sweetheart, you are anything but demure.”

Your glare was immediate, but it was more a pout than anything, and Cassian couldn’t help the fondness that swelled in his chest. “I can be anything I want to be,” you retorted.

“Yes,” he agreed, his thumb caressing your cheek in a way that sent a shiver of warmth down your spine. “But I just want you to be you.”

His words hung in the air, a gentle reminder of the love he had for the vibrant, unapologetically you. When you didn’t respond, Cassian leaned in, pressing a kiss to your cheek, his lips lingering as if willing you to let go of whatever doubt had crept into your heart. 

Slowly, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips, and with it, the glamour over your clothes faded away. Gone were the muted colors, replaced by the vivid shades of pink that Cassian adored—the colors that were as much a part of you as your laughter and your light.

Because when have you ever given in to trends? You, who shone like a beacon of color in a world that could be so gray, had always embraced who you were without hesitation. The opinions of others rarely fazed you, but sometimes, even you needed a reminder and Cassian was more than glad to do it for you.

“There she is,” he murmured, giving your cheek another kiss before pulling you into his arms. “My bright, shining star.”

You melted into his embrace, a contented sigh escaping your lips as your hands trailed up his back, reveling in the solid strength beneath his shirt. “Your hugs are the best,” you whispered, nuzzling into his warmth.

"They are?"

His arms tightened around you, the familiar scent of him wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

“Mm, you feel so strong. Makes me feel so…demure.”

Eris x Chaos Witch

The kitchen was nearly empty, the scent of cooked herbs and roasted meats still lingering in the air. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows on the stone walls, making the space feel both vast and suffocating. The cooks had long since retired, and only a few servants remained, their weary faces reflecting the strain of another long day in the Forest House.

The High Lord was away, leaving the Lady of Autumn and her sons that lived here to tend to. The noble lords and advisors who usually filled these halls were absent tonight, choosing to attend dinner only when Beron himself was present or if they were invited by Eris. It should have made the evening easier to endure, but one sharp comment from Reed had nearly shattered the delicate guise you'd worked so hard to maintain.

You felt Eris’s presence before he even crossed the threshold. A strange sensation creeping up your ribcage–like a warning. 

Your knuckles turned white as you gripped the marble edge of the counter, the cold stone grounding you. A deep breath—one that burned your lungs—did little to quell the storm raging within. The servants, sensing the tension crackling in the air, quickly scattered, their hurried footsteps echoing off the walls.

His eyes, usually gleaming with mischief, were now sharp and assessing. The fiery red of his hair seemed to glow in the dim light, a stark contrast to the shadows that danced across his angular features. He was close now, the heat of his body a reminder of the power he wielded—not just over flame, but over this entire court and perhaps, even over you…

Your heart pounded in your chest, threatening to stir the darkness that lived inside you awake. That sinister and wicked side of you. The one that nearly slipped when Reed–

“That wasn’t very demure of you.”

Eris's tone was light and teasing, but beneath it lay a dark edge. 

Demure. 

The very epitome of the Autumn Court, reserved specifically for the fae females. A female was meant to be modest and reserved. Gentle and feminine. Quiet and docile. Dressed in muted Autumn colored dresses that left little to no skin exposed, allowing one to blend within backgrounds. 

Never drawing attention to herself.

It was what you forced yourself to be. A demure, young fae that worked in the kitchens of the great Autumn estate, serving the dignified and vehement Vanserras. More like vain Vanserras…

But tonight, the quiet, demure, and soft-spoken facade nearly cracked, allowing the fierce, raging beast that lurked within to claw its way to the surface.

Eris was angry and he had every right to be. The weight of your secret hung heavily between you, a volatile force that threatened to consume everything if unleashed. However, you’d be damned if you’d let him know you were ever in agreement.

“The depth of my concern could not be further shallowed.” You replied sharply with a glare.

Eris took another step forward, gaze dropping briefly before lifting back up to meet yours. His lips curled up into a sneer.  “Drop the knife.”

You clenched your hands and it was only then that you realized in the midst of your turmoil, you had picked up one of the knives on the counter, its sharp edge pointed at Eris. 

“Drop the attitude first.”

A muscle feathered in his jaw and the fire in his eyes burned brighter. Strong and powerful magic surged through you but the blood that coursed through your veins was no different than any commoner’s. And you knew it irked him to be spoken in such a way by a common fae.

“I can kill you, you know,” he said casually, one hand reaching out for yours–the one that held the knife. He forced your hand down. “Save myself from all the trouble you bring…”

“Death does not frighten me.” You reminded him just as casually.

Eris’s eyes softened for a moment, a flicker of something you could not discern sparking in his amber gaze. But it was fleeting, replaced quickly by the calculating gaze of a future High Lord, one who was currently navigating a treacherous game. Much to his dismay, he needed you if he wanted a chance at winning. Just as much as you needed him…

He leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. He wanted you to tremble before him, to fear him.  “Then, I will deny you death until you beg me on your knees for it.”

Your hand tensed against the knife you still held and Eris, whose hand still remained over yours, grew hot. Flames danced from his fingertips, heating against your skin. It was a fleeting kiss of heat that sent a sharp, tingling sensation coursing through your skin but not hot enough to burn. Not yet. 

“Do you think about that image a lot? Of me on my knees?”

Eris’s hand left yours. A wave of relief washed over you and you resisted the urge to cradle your hand to your chest. 

He took a step back, amber eyes sweeping over you with a slow, deliberate gaze. “It would suit you.”

“Keep dreaming, Vanserra.”

Eris's chuckle broke the silence, but it was a hollow sound, stripped of any true amusement. His eyes continued to bore into you with a searing intensity. "For both our sakes," he warned, his voice low and edged with a dangerous calm, "see that it doesn’t happen again."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing ominously. You stood alone, the lingering tension from his presence intertwining with your own growing anxiety.

With every beat of your heart, the darkness seemed to creep closer, and the storm of chaos you fought to contain felt ever more on the verge of breaking free.

a/n: When thinking about the demure trend, my mind had drifted to how each witch would be. Green witch gives off the most "demure" vibes. Then, I saw a tiktok resurfacing a clip from The Nanny of Fran saying she wants to be demure and it made me think of Love witch.

Chaos witch knows she's not demure, even though she has to pretend to be. I might actually use that scene between them in a one shot. It's hard writing short stuff for Eris & Chaos when I haven't written the prologue/introduction. I hope it's not confusing to follow along. For now, all you have to know is that they have their separate goals but must reluctantly work together if they want to see them come to light.

[witch au masterlist]

general witch tag list: @rcarbo1, @scorpioriesling, @ninthcircleofprythian

love witch tag list: @mrsjna , @shadowsingercassia, @acourtofbatboydreams, @rcarbo1, @mvidaaaa ,

@stuff-i-found-while-crying , @lipstickmarks, @yamisukehoe , @mp-littlebit , @thecraziestcrayon,

@talesofadragon, @ceoofyearning, @anuttellaa, @breadsticks2004, @chicken-fifi

@bxtchopolis

green witch tag list: @fxckmiup, @aria-chikage

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human, @mrsjna, @adventure-awaits13

If you asked to be in a tag list and don't see your name, please let me know!

this is such an interesting character, i would love to read about how she and maura will be togrther.

lots of love, saph

SFW ALPHABET HEADCANON

Andreas Sarah Gallagher

OC from Heart and Isles

Rizzoli and Isles fanfiction

A/N: Hello there! To anyone reading this, know that this is the first time I've worked on an Alphabet SFW, so please be kind. So, this is about Andreas —Andy — Gallagher, the main character of a Rizzoli and Isles fanfiction I'm working on. Note that the story’s title may change. Feel free to share your thoughts about Andy :)

[If you’d like to be tagged in the upcoming posts, please let me know in the comments or in my dm. It’s free and I don’t bite :) ]

A is for Affection: How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?

Andy likes to keep her privacy. It means that no matter how close she wants to be to Maura, she will keep a minimum distance in all public places in order to protect their private lives. However, around loved ones and friends — such as her best friend or Jane’s family — Andy almost always has some kind of physical contact with Maura, whether it’s a hand on her thigh, the small of her back, or her hand. I think her main way of expressing her affection is through touch, although sometimes she will choose to simply offer Maura a little something, help her out with something or simply make time for her.

B is for Best friend: What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?

As a best friend, Andy is always willing to drop everything just to be there. She knows the importance of a healthy friendship and takes her role very seriously. Therefore, although her work is extremely demanding, she will always make sure to have time for her loved ones. Her friendship with Pierce began years ago when they both trained to be firefighters. Over time, they’ve become somewhat like siblings, and hardly ever do you see one without the other. All of her relationships spring more or less from her work environment, i.e. her best friend or Maura.

C is for Cuddles: Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?

Andy actually loves to cuddle. Behind her tough-girl mask, she’s in fact a person with a very big heart who’s tired of having to settle for her best friend’s hugs. She loves the way Maura snuggles up to her on the couch after a long day or the way their bodies mingle during the night. Sometimes, she’s the one who needs to be cuddled. In these cases, she finds comfort against Maura’s body, her arms around her waist, her head in the hollow of her neck.

D if for Domestic: Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?

Had life not decided otherwise, Andy would have settled down for good. Before the accident, she had what she had always wanted, the job of her dreams, a home, and a fiancée. She no longer knows if she’s ready to repeat this journey. Still, maybe Maura will be able to change her mind. Andy’s pretty good at keeping things neat and tidy. Her motto is — minimalism, — she travels light. Everything that doesn’t belong in her apartment is removed.

E is for Ending: If they had to break up with their s/o, how would they do it? Why would they do it?

Andy hasn’t been involved with anyone for a while since the accident. Whenever she has to end her so-called flings, she sticks to clear and direct words. One might argue she’s deadly cold, but that’s only because she doesn’t want to get attached. If she has to break up with someone she really likes and has been with for a while, it’s more complicated. She relies on her best friend’s advice, seeking to put some distance between herself and her S/O, before confronting the person, eyes filled with tears and hands shaking. I believe the main reason she would do it is fear. She’s not willing to relive the pain of the past and therefore deprives herself of happiness. But then again, there are several other factors that might lead her to end a relationship.

F is for Fiancé(e): How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?

Andy has known this feeling of commitment before. She’s been there. Until Maura, it wasn’t even something she considered possible — at least not anymore. She needs time — lots of time — to admit that maybe, she has thought about it. A part of her wants to give it a try, if she had to choose who to spend her life with, it would be Maura, inevitably.

G is for Gentle: How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?

Rare are the ones who are familiar with the softest side of her. Both physically and emotionally, Andy guards this part of herself and only shares it with those closest to her. Pierce was the first to break through her shell. Though his son also benefits from such attention, Maura’s the one enjoying it the most. Andy always makes sure to take care of the doctor — whatever she needs, the firefighter provides.

H is for Hugs: Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?

She doesn’t like hugging everyone, instead preferring a good handshake — especially with strangers or those she barely knows. Now, when it comes to Pierce, they tend not to hug very often — only when one of them feels the need to. With Maura, it’s different. She likes to hug her when she’s making herself tea, wrapping her arms around her waist and resting her chin on the doctor’s shoulder. She loves the way their bodies collide together after one of them’s life has been put on the line. When they’re together, they often happily bury themselves in each other’s arms.

I is for "I love you": How do they say the L-word? When do they say the L-word?

She thinks about it for a while, not daring to take a step and not even knowing how. One morning it just slips out of her mouth. Looking for her pager, she disturbs Maura who’s getting ready in the bathroom, planting a quick kiss on her lips as the device begins to ring in her hand. Not until she reaches the station will she realize what she said.

J is for Jealousy: How jealous do they get? What do they do when they're jealous?

Andy was never really the jealous type. Still, she has her moments. Being in a relationship with a very well-known woman such as Maura has its inconveniences. It’s not uncommon for the doctor to be flirted with — right and left — by men and women. Her insecurities grow when she feels an emotional connection is present between the person and Maura.

K is for Kisses: What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?

Andy is what you might call a kiss stealer. One long kiss just makes her crave for more — she often pecks Maura’s lips over and over again, eager for more. She’s a rather good kisser, always soft, gentle and sensual. Kissing her loved ones on their forehead or temple is her thing. She loves the way Maura kisses her knuckles whenever she’s comforting her.

L is for Little ones: How are they around children?

After the accident, Andy promised herself she’d stick to being the cool aunt. With Eden, it’s easy. She has known him since he was born, taught him the basics of her favorites sports and showed him around the firehouse. It’s also a child she can give back to his father as soon as she gets tired. Andy loves kids, she just doesn’t always know how to deal with them.

M is for Morning: How are mornings spent with them?

Mornings can be tough as a firefighter. They often mean the end of a 24-hour shift and with so little sleep, it’s with half-closed eyes that Andy finds the comfort of her bed. No matter how long she’s been doing this job, she’s still moody on those kinds of mornings. Andy enjoys following her regular routine before each 24-hour shift. That means waking up at the crack of dawn to go for a run, taking a cold shower and feeding herself a protein smoothy. Anything goes wrong — her whole day will be awfully dreadful. She loves Sundays and off days. Then she has time to be lazy, sleeping in and cuddling with Maura.

N is for Night: How are nights spent with them?

Andy knows that her schedule doesn't always match up with Maura's. Every chance she gets, she takes the opportunity to spend time with her or their loved ones. The Dirty Robber becomes over time their safe place — date nights, nights out with friends or parties. When both have the opportunity to be home at night, evenings include the two of them curled up on the couch, glasses of wine in hand, files or books in view. They both need a break and know how to remind each other of that.

O is for Open: When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?

Andy has a LOT to explain. But I feel like Maura does too. They both had complicated childhoods and experienced their quota of traumas in adult life. Andy won’t talk about it —whether it’s about her childhood, her former life or her work related traumas— she won’t say anything, not if the subject doesn’t come up. But when it does though, she’s brutally honest, trying to hide her emotions with a joke or two and a half-hearted smile.

P is for Patience - how easily angered are they?

Andy is pretty patient. She was born to be a leader, she knows when and how to lead her people. It's unusual for her to lose her temper. Due to her childhood, she knows how to handle difficult situations and wait for the right moment. However, she has absolutely no patience when it comes to people hurting her loved ones. Anyone who dares to mess with Maura or any member of Andy’s family will have to face the consequences.

Q is for Quizzes: How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing? Or do they kind of forget everything?

Andy is the kind of person who remembers everything. She’s good at memorizing details about her loved ones, especially Maura. She spent hours studying the doctor's face and how each emotion affects it. Her hands have been over the curves of Maura’s body so many times that Andy would be willing to retrace them blindfolded. While she occasionally forgets things that have been said to her, Andy tends to swallow every word that comes out of Maura’s mouth, so she rarely forgets anything.

R is for Remember: What is their favorite moment in your relationship?

Andy’s favorite moment in her relationship with Maura is their first kiss. The way they both gave in to the urge without worrying about the following day. The firefighter hadn't craved a woman's kiss as much as she did at that moment since losing her ex-fiancé.

S is for Security: How (over)protective are they? how would they protect you? how would they like to be protected?

Andy will never stop fighting to protect her loved ones. In fact, it’s part of her job. If you imagine that Andy would run into a burning building or throw herself in front of a bullet to save Maura, well, you are right. If she has the opportunity to save the woman she loves this time, then she will not hesitate.

T is for Try: How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, and everyday tasks?

Andy’s a busy woman. Saving Boston citizens and putting out fires is no easy task, but that doesn’t mean she won’t take the time to spend quality time with Maura. She does her best every day to prove to the doctor that her heart still belongs to her — visit her at work with her favorite treat, buy her favorite flowers/plants on her way home, or even throw surprise parties for her birthday/some other success in her career.

U is for Ugly: What would be some bad habits of theirs?

Andy tends to click her pen repeatedly. She also has a bad habit of biting her lips and playing with her keys when she is nervous.

V is for Vanity: How concerned are they with their looks?

Andy isn’t too concerned about her looks, but she has a healthy lifestyle and knows how to make an effort when necessary. On a daily basis, she switches between uniforms, sportswear, and casual wear. She doesn’t try to look good but still does. It’s a ‘natural thing’ as Dimitri loves to put it.

W is for Whole: Would they feel incomplete without you?

Andy is a person in her own right. She learned long ago that she doesn’t need anyone to survive. Sure, the absence will create a feeling of incompleteness, but it is nothing compared to what she has already experienced. However, she believes that to live to the fullest, she needs all the pieces of her puzzle.

X is for Xtra: (A) Random headcanon(s) for them

Andy grew up playing many different sports. She loves keeping up with soccer, hockey, and baseball games, whether it’s on TV or the radio. The best thing according to her remains to experience the game live. She’ll end up dragging Maura to a soccer game, even if it means spending half of it explaining the rules to her.

Y is for Yuck: What are some things they wouldn't like, either in general or in a partner

Some sort of violence, whether psychological or physical.

Z is for Zzz: what are some sleep habits of theirs?

Recall three positive moments of the day, as advised by the station’s psychologist.

***

Taglist:

@enjoytheentireworld @emskisworld

This is very True.

eldest daughter remain being the emotional punching bags

And she's back ladies and gentlemen (October needs to come sooner ).

Another amazing chapter of one my favorite story.

DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER FOUR

04 : BEGINNINGS

CHPT. SUM. : beginning new things is always fun. getting to know your sons, them finally being able to experience having a loving mother, sirius going to school, and you planning for everything that was yet to come so that everyone gets to the happy ending they deserve. 

LENGTH : 11.8k

TAGS : domestic fluff ; orion being a bad father ; original walburga being a nuisance ; reader being an amazing mother and an amazing cook ; regulus has food preferences ; brotherhood between sirius and regulus ; marauders spotted in the wild ; sirius and regulus being precious babies ; reader disrespecting walburga ; mentions of infertility ; mentions of divorce ; lots of future planning

← PREV. 03 : SHOPPING (2/2) | SERIES M.LIST

9th August 1971 

It, surprisingly, took very little to get past Orion on the topic of changing Sirius and Regulus’ private tutors. However, when you truly looked at his workaholic tendencies, your initial surprise should have been the more startling reaction — of course, he wouldn’t care, he’s too fixated on the happenings with his position on the Wizengamot to be aware of much else, discounting the protective wards he put up around the property. Nevertheless, it was good news for you and your boys. Finally, they would be getting more suitable tutors, who catered to their learning needs in a more digestible way. You had only recently sent out the notice, though, so you don’t expect many replies to be coming in soon. Your only wish was to have fallen into this universe sooner, that way you would have had more time with Sirius before he left to attend Hogwarts as a first year. 

Walburga didn’t have a formal occupation other than monitor her boys so having Sirius leave for his first year would mean less work for her and, subsequently, you. However, it’s not as if she needed the money; she’s the matriarch of an incredibly privileged family, meaning that her financial worries are close to non-existent. Both, the affluent family fortune and her lack of professional ambitions have you stumped, it’s something you’re not used to at all. Perhaps that’s why she’s so obsessed with control and the activity of her two sons; it’s not healthy and you don’t even want to attempt to understand what she was thinking—

“Of course you won’t!” Walburga snarls from the depths of your consciousness, her tone dripping with malice and a hint of something sinister. “I don’t expect someone who failed at becoming a mother to understand the right and true tribulations of bringing up children,” 

“…how did you know that?” you ask aloud, no longer satisfied with simply trying to call for the bitch - Walburga’s - attention in your head. She didn’t seem to want to reply, which only made your blood boil; her prolonged silence, the trigger to releasing your rapidly escalating rage.  How dare she?! How dare she strike you where it hurts the most, only to turn completely unresponsive when you demand answers, “Answer me!”  Thick tensions fill the room when she does not answer, the silence suffocating and poisonous. Taking a slow, deep breath, you engage control over your anxious heart and trembling hands once more. 

Work. You need work. Something to focus on so that you don’t dwell on memories that will only bring you heartache. It worked before so it’ll work for you now. It had worked so well, in fact, that you were able to build an empire out of it, perhaps you could replicate the same results this time. 

“Screw you then, ugly pig, I have more important matters to attend to anyway,” pulling out a drawer, you scatter your notes across the desk and move with fretful fever but, also, enthusiasm above them. No matter the change of environment, you can always trust in your habits to push you forward. Walburga mainly worked on keeping the boys in line as the official matriarch of the Black household but that’s all her world revolved around, she had no hobbies or any close friends other than her relatives whom she communicated with, somewhat, regularly. With a guilty ache in your chest, you kept a gradually growing stack of letters in the bottom-most drawer of the hard oak desk, not yet knowing how to respond to people you barely knew. However, you suppose their relations to a character like Walburaga make it slightly easier to ignore their communications. The affiliation doesn’t warrant your precious time. If you could send a passive-aggressive email, you might be more willing, but the extended process of having to write out the letters and then send them via owl wasn’t worthwhile. 

The priority on your list of important affairs is ensuring your boys’ happy and safe future. Sirius will not have to choose between Regulus and his friends, he will not suffer being blasted off the family tree, he will not have to be ashamed of his family, he will not have to witness his close friend’s death through another’s betrayal, and he will not be forced to go to Azkaban. Similarly, Regulus will not have to suffer Sirius abandoning him, he will not have to face his prejudicial parents alone, he will not be forced into getting the dark mark, he will not have to make the sacrifice he had to make at such a young age, he will not die a miserable and lonely death, and he will not be forgotten! You will make sure of it. 

Coming into the world as a Harry Potter and Marauders fan, you’re well-equipped with all the knowledge required to make the right decisions. The only problem is that the Marauders era has been a largely vague timeline that most of the fandom filled in for themselves so you’ll have to tread carefully. This will require meticulous planning, a steady rise to power and a conglomeration of useful allies to help set your plans into motion. Modern-day knowledge and business etiquette will serve you well here. You’ve survived toxic work environments, won in the race to riches, and dealt with all manner of manipulative, sexist swine you could ever think to encounter. If you play your cards right, you’re sure to win. 

“As if a muggle like you could conquer the wizarding world!” Walburga finally makes her appearance once again. And, of course, it’s for the sake of belittling you whilst making your head throb painfully from her distasteful screeches. 

“Shut up,” you hiss unapologetically, resisting the urge to smirk, “Unlike you, I know the future—” breathing the words aloud brings a blaring, singular thought to the front of your mind. The vision you witnessed at the Owl Emporium replays in your head once more…

How in the world did Walburga know about the biting habit of Sirius’ future owl?… 

Several moments pass achingly slow as you anticipate the aggravating screeching of Walburga to return. When no such wailing occurs or interrupts your train of thought, your mind immediately begins to spiral. 

How could Walburga remember being at the Emporium, shopping for Sirius’ first year at Hogwarts when she had yet to go shopping with him in the first place? They couldn’t have already gone, right? Orion would have said something if they were being inefficient enough to go a second time. That or the boys would have definitely made some comment… 

This felt like an urgent matter that needed your immediate attention but you had to prioritise other things for now. It’s not like the original Walburga was going to give you the answers you needed so it wasn’t any use pressing on the matter. It’s best to turn your focus and efforts elsewhere. Peering back at your scattered notes, you raise your newly acquired wand and utter the crafting spell you had learned recently. 

“Libeligare,” As you wave your wand over the desk, activity springs forth. In a flurry of animated pages and whistling currents in the air, your disordered notes compile themselves appropriately before binding themselves into a fresh notebook. It doesn’t have a hard cover and you debate on transfiguring a decorative letter set piece into one but think against it. This will do nicely for the moment. 

Finally, all your detailed plans are in one place. 

10th August 1971 

With nothing better to do and desperate for a decent meal, you address the home-cooked meals situation. Every dish served at the Black household was so unappetising and bland, that you couldn’t believe that the family was one of the most influential and richest families to exist in the wizarding world. You’re beginning to believe that the Blacks were the type of family to indulge in unpalatable spreads with the reasoning that they refuse to eat the same meals as those lesser than them. How childish. Even in your city-centre penthouse, you ordered take-out frequently and ate ordinary home-cooked meals that were comforting and warm. The memories make you compare all the meals you’ve had in Grimmauld Place and blanch abhorrently. This wouldn’t do, especially for your growing boys. They need to be well-fed so that they grow up healthy and strong. 

“Mistress!” Kreacher shrieks behind you, making you jump and spin around all at once. The hunched-over house elf dashes through the kitchen space clumsily and with much vigour, he pulls painfully at his drooping ears as his eyes bulge out from seeing you, his mistress, the matriarch, in the kitchen cooking! Without magic! 

“Don’t be so dramatic, Kreacher,” you chuckle softly and turn back to your food prep, “I’m just trying to cook an easy breakfast for my boys,” if you could truly have it your way then you would cook enough only for you and your two darling sons to eat. Orion would have to sort his own plate. But you’re not divorced yet so you suppose this is a compromise you’ll have to make. 

“I-It is not mistress’ job, let Kreacher do it—!” the house elf, reaches forward to take the kitchen utensils from you but you’re too swift. 

“I want to cook the food Kreacher,” you argue and continue pottering about the kitchen as if it was just another Tuesday morning, all while Kreacher follows you around helplessly. He’s clearly stuck between letting you have your way or forcing you to let him cook instead. Both felt wrong in different ways considering his position as the house elf, and he was brought to a standstill. The poor guy looked ready to throw himself off a cliff from the indecision and panic.  

Having sympathy for the elf, you call to him over your shoulder, “Kreacher can you please pass me the eggs?” this feels like a good even ground to dance on. Soon enough you’ll be teaching Kreacher how to finally relax. Kreacher appeared happy to finally be doing something but as soon as he hesitantly handed over the eggs, he was back to being anxious all over again. Even though you are the matriarch of the household, you supposed you’ll have to share the kitchen with a very distressed house elf for the foreseeable future. 

For the rest of the morning, you’ve asked Kreacher to help you with crisping up the beacon, cleaning the mushrooms, opening up the can of beans, toasting the bread and laying out the table. No more tasteless, boring porridge for breakfast with no toppings, today you’re serving a Full English. Admiring the spread, you thank Kreacher for his assistance before undoing your apron and putting the finishing touches to the dining table just as the rest of the family make it down for breakfast. 

“What is all this?” Orion asks in slight surprise when catching sight of breakfast for the day, “Is today very important?”

“No,” nonchalance keeps your tone controlled just as your precious babies walk through the door and hop into their designated seats at the table, one more enthusiastic than the other, “I’m just tired of plain old porridge every day,”

“Porridge is delicious,” Orion defends.

“Every day?” from the look in his eyes, you don’t know whether or not you’ve bested him so turn a serene smile his way instead, “I can always ask Kreacher to make you porridge if you really want,” 

Orion takes a moment to observe the full, vibrant plate of bacon, toast, grilled tomatoes, sautéed mushrooms, sausages, black pudding, scrambled eggs and beans. If he takes any longer to play indecisive, the food will get cold and your precious babies are waiting on his dainty, princess-ass to make a decision— can you hurry the fuck up?! you want to scream at him. Every meal is started after his first bite (the pretentious, narcissistic douche) so he needs to make up his mind quickly or else you’ll lose yours waiting around! 

“…it’ll be a waste, this will do,” he finally picks up his knife and fork to begin eating and you have to reign yourself in before you roll your eyes too noticeably at his conceited behaviour. Your babies behave better than him. The prick! 

Turning to your boys, you observe Sirius and Regulus digging into their own meals before finally taking a bite out of yours. It felt good to see their eyes light up like that, especially Sirius’ — it makes you want to giggle at how obviously he had been wanting to devour his beans and toast the instant he laid eyes on them. 

Breakfast continues pleasantly as everyone enjoys their meal until you begin to notice some peculiar movement in the corner of your eye. You try to be as subtle as you can, considering the uncommon calm that has fallen over the dining table; it isn’t usually this comfortable around the table so you wanted to preserve the ambience as much as possible. The source of your curious gaze was Sirius and Regulus. 

Covertly, Regulus sneaks spoonfuls of his scrambled eggs onto Sirius’ plate, who proceeds to eat up his younger brother’s share as quickly as possible. Regulus was doing this willingly despite this morning’s breakfast being the first appetising meal he’s had yet. It won’t be the last either. However, from the way Sirius is scarfing down the food whilst trying to remain as silent as possible, it wouldn’t be surprising if Sirius eventually suffers from a stomachache later on. You wonder what could be the matter with the scrambled eggs. Was the seasoning off? Kreacher helped taste test every element of the meal and gave his stellar praise for your unrealised culinary skills so you’re more than a bit confused at the scene. After swallowing all remnants of food in your mouth, you gently raise a question. 

“Regulus?” your youngest freezes up immediately, making your brows furrow but still, you continue in a soft voice, “What’s wrong?” Deep in your chest, you feel your heart clench in worry at the deer-in-headlights expression plastered across Regulus’ cherubic face. 

You are met with only silence, “do you not like your eggs, darling?” you try meeting your youngest’s eyes but he’s terrified to even face your direction. Instead, he’s firmly steered his gaze down to his lap and keeps it there, frozen in place. 

There’s a slam of the table and everyone stiffens. At the head, Orion stares disapprovingly at Regulus, who begins to tremble like a leaf, “How rude!” the patriarch spits with such force and bite that his saliva lands halfway down the lengthy dining table. He’s so scandalised by his son’s behaviour that the cold from his freezing gaze drops the temperature in the room lower than it already is. “How many times have we talked about this Regulus? Finish your plate at once or else it’ll be the last meal you eat today!”

“He’s not being rude!” you counter, flying out of your seat and making your way to Regulus, “And he shouldn’t be forced to eat something he doesn’t like nor punished harshly for disliking something,” Crouching down, you position yourself to block Orion from Regulus’ line of sight despite his frightened doe-eyes remaining transfixed on his lap. His small hands are turned into small, knuckle-white fists, gripping fiercely at the fabric of his trousers. A paralysed statue of fear incarnate, your little boy doesn’t deserve this! If you could ‘Avada Kedavra’ Orion’s pathetic, prissy ass, you would in a heartbeat. 

From your peripheral, you notice how Sirius had placed a comforting hand over one of Regulus’ closed fists and the sight made your heart bloom with pride and joy — seeing how well they take care of each other was so heartwarming. “Tell me what’s wrong, Reg…I promise I won’t get mad,” you make sure to keep your voice in a low whisper so that only your son can hear but also loud enough that Orion’s distant grumbling is disguised. 

“Do you not like eggs?” your prompting remains gentle and patient, hoping for a fraction of understanding. That’s all you really want. 

Sensing no antagonistic feeling in your tone, Regulus finally wills himself to speak, although barely audible from insecurity, “I….I don’t like scrambled eggs…”

“No? What about them don’t you like?”

"They feel weird in my mouth, I don’t like chewing them,” he explains shyly, his confession dripping with shame. His grey eyes look into your own remorsefully and, before he can utter an apology, he is stopped by the shaking of your head.

Smiling warmly, you pat his small hand and voice your reassurance, “That’s a reasonable preference to have. Do you not like the texture?” Regulus nods in confirmation as his small, tense shoulders slowly ease up, “Do you not like eggs at all or do you like them cooked in a particular way?” 

Regulus’ eyes widen with surprise. Never before had his mother been so attentive to his preferences like this. On the contrary, His mother was always the first to make him feel embarrassed for his picky tendencies when it came to food, especially over dishes that make him lose his appetite entirely, oysters and shellfish being the main culprit. He really didn’t like them at all. Many times, they were the appetiser to multiple-course meals hosted by pureblood, elitist wizarding families so Walburga was determined to season her son’s palettes early on in life. It was good etiquette to eat such foods and to know how to eat them properly. If he didn’t display appropriate dinner etiquette at the table then he is lesser, he is unworthy of the Black family name and blood running through his veins, he is unbecoming of his heritage, he is a disgrace— 

“I can cook eggs in many other ways,” you suggest thoughtfully, voice remaining soft and comforting, “I can fry them for you? Or I can boil them? Do you like your yolk runny or firm?” 

Regulus, spurred on by your softly placed questions feels the corners of his lips tug upwards, “fried eggs, please…”

His innocuous answer makes you beam, “with a runny or firm yolk, darling?”

“Runny, please,” Regulus finds your bright expression infectious and begins to smile a little wider too. Over the slope of his little brother’s small shoulders, Sirius is grinning from ear to ear; finally, Regulus isn’t going to be forced to eat something he doesn’t enjoy. The elation makes Sirius’ chest swell as his heart pinches slightly at the memory of his little brother retching up the contents of his stomach in the bathroom. Those disastrous, past meals started badly and they ended badly too. Peering at you with smiling eyes, Sirius knows that he won’t need to worry about that any more. 

“Of course, right away," you’re eager to leave and fix up Regulus’ plate but you also worry about leaving him with Orion at the dinner table; your husband wasn’t too pleased with Regulus having preferences — the pretentious prick could choke on his food and die for all you cared, “how about we go to the kitchen together?” you offer smoothly as you begin to stand, “that way, you can watch me cook and make sure I do them just the way you like it,” smiling brightly, Regulus nods and easily offers his hand for you to hold, “Siri, would you like to come?” if one brother was coming with you so was the other.  

“Yes please!” Sirius happily walks to the kitchen, hand-in-hand with Regulus, whose other hand is fully wrapped up in your own. 

From the head of the table, Orion stares with his mouth agape at what he had just been a witness to. What was happening to his wife?! 

11th August 1971 

Sirius and Regulus stand by the fireplace, waving off their newly appointed private tutor as they floo away before eagerly making their way to your home office. Usually, their session catch-ups would make the two freeze up and drag their feet along the plush carpets of their family’s proud home but not now. Ever since your irregular activities leading up to your fainting spell and subsequent switch in demeanour, they’ve felt safer and happier at home. But only around you, their father still frightened them. The patriarch’s grey eyes swirled with a mounting turbulence that they would greatly prefer to avoid so they quickly make themselves scarce around him but not around their mother. Not anymore.

“I can’t wait to show Mother my cursive practice,” Regulus has a skip in his step as he walks beside his older brother, who beams at him proudly. 

“Yeah, you’re getting really good at that Reggie,” Sirius praises, a slightly envious tone edging into his words, but it all remained playful, “say, how do you do your swirls so good?”

“Practise!” 

Sirius rolls his eyes at his younger brother’s cheek, “There has to be a secret to it that I don’t know about,” Regulus only giggles at his older brother’s shortcomings. This had been a rare happiness to experience at 12 Grimmauld Place but, gradually, it was becoming common between the two brothers. Suddenly the walls weren’t so drab, the furniture not as boring and the decorations not as hauntingly placed. The atmosphere was much brighter as sunlight always seemed to pour magnanimously in from the windows.

“Sorry Siri,” from Regulus’ free-flowing, tuneful words, he isn’t sorry at all but Sirius can never will up any hatred for his younger brother. They’ve been through it all together and now that their recent joys were also being shared, of course, they would partake in harmless teasing — teasing that was usually frowned upon by their mother but was no longer a worry. They can’t remember the last time their mother frowned — the two greatly prefer this new version of their mother’s expressions much more.

As they approach your office door, the brothers’ footfalls quicken and they barely catch themselves from bursting through the door without knocking. But not before they catch sight of your figure through the crack of the doorway. Curious about your activity, Sirius hushes his younger brother softly and holds him back so that he can lean forward to observe your figure closely. Inspired by his older brother’s nosiness, Regulus leans forward also and the two peer at you through the doorway crack. 

You’re not at your desk but are, instead, seated on the plush, cushioned seats of the emerald sofa placed in front of your desk. Black robes and other familiar attire are piled up beside you on one side while the other gradually assembles the neatly folded aftermath of your sewing…embroidery? Was there even a difference? Nevertheless, you had a needle and thread in hand without your wand or the use of magic in sight!

“Mother’s sewing your name tags herself,” Regulus concludes in a whisper following a muted gasp of surprise. 

Sirius’ eyes widen ever so slightly, “and she’s not using magic…” he doesn’t know how skilled you are at sewing but Sirius doesn’t care, the gesture alone is enough to make his chest swell. Even his face began to warm up from the heat climbing up his neck as it tried reaching his ears. 

“…do you think she’ll sew my name tags too? When I start my first year, I mean…” Regulus asks shyly, the clear insecurity in his timid voice making Sirius slightly defensive. 

“Of course, she will,” he huffs before grinning widely, “and if we tear up our uniform ‘accidentally’ I’m sure she’ll sew those up herself too!” Regulus doesn’t know whether he likes or dislikes his brother’s train of thought but smiles anyway; he’s just happy thinking about his mother paying as much attention and care to his first-year robes too. He can’t wait until he starts attending Hogwarts as well. 

Finally willing themselves to stop eavesdropping and return to their earlier task, Sirius and Regulus straighten their posture before knocking on the heavy wooden door. They don’t have to wait terribly long for an answering call to grant their entrance. 

“Come in,” you set your tools aside and smile when the door reveals your babies stepping into your office, “hello, my darlings,” from your periphery, you spot the time on the clock face and jump into conversation with them, “how was your tutoring session? Did you like your new tutor?” 

“Yeah!” the two answer simultaneously and with the same amount of enthusiasm — it makes you smile with content. Happiness looks good on them; their characters shine brighter and their faces are more child-like. They’re honestly the cutest little boys you’ve ever seen and now they’re your sons to love and protect.  

“That’s wonderful news,” you open your arms for each of them to jump into, “Tell me all about it,” you’re just about to magic away the robes and sewing equipment so that they can sit beside you but not before you spot Sirius inspecting your handiwork, “I’m afraid I’m not the best seamstress,” your confession comes out bashfully, “I should have had Madam Malkins sew the tags on for me—”

“No!—” Sirius interrupts, looking almost offended that you would consider such a thing, “I like your sewing,” you raise a brow and, together with Regulus, inspect your uneven, treasure map trail of stitches before turning to the eldest brother once more. 

“Are you sure, darling?”

“Yeah, only you can do the stitching on my uniform, no one else,” his firm answer makes your embarrassed expression melt into a warm smile.

“Alright then,”

“Thank you, Mother,” he gives you another hug that you happily return. 

“You’re welcome, my dear,”

Looking over your plans, you sigh in restrained frustration. This is going to be a little hard. Yes, you know what to do but it’s all about recruiting the right people, trustworthy people and ones who are right for the role you’re choosing to give them. There’s a lot on your plate too, with your most urgent goal being divorce. You’re convinced that it isn’t going to be easy, considering the controversies that will surround the separation of a prominent wizarding house. The laws surrounding marriage, divorce and custody at this time are also largely unknown to you. Thankfully, you’ve had the privilege of living in a modern ‘muggle’ society where marriage and custody laws were pretty equal and fair. Perhaps there’s a book you can read up on about these things. For now, it’s a safe bet to say that custody will favour Orion as a man in the 1970s — it’s better to over-prepare than be underprepared for any outcome. 

Despite the importance of this particular undertaking, you’ll have to wait until both, Sirius and Regulus, are attending Hogwarts to commence the divorce proceedings. You don’t want your boys to be front-row witnesses nor do you want them to rollercoaster through the typical, rough emotions of children caught up in their parents’ divorce. You’ve been through that already… and you barely made it out on the other side. You’re an adult and they’re just children; if you can protect them from the brunt of it, you will.

A stray thought pushes forward into your consciousness — it would be too optimistic to confidently wager on the boys siding with you. Although under abusive parenting, children are very loyal and you’re benefiting from that loyalty now; even though Walburga was incredibly cruel to her sons, they were still eager to give you a chance as soon as you took over and began treating them kindly. You need to be cautious. The silver lining of it all is that you’ll, at least, have some time to prepare affluently before starting the separation process. That, on its own, however, will require another bout of planning.  

Saving Regulus is another priority on your list. That requires getting rid of the Horcruxes and killing off snake-faced Voldy but you don’t want to be too hands-on with that, especially because you’re not very adept at casting spells yet — there’ll be more experienced and more willing people (Aurors) who would be able to handle this type of mission. All you have to do is pull the right strings and connect with the right people. Eyeing another task on your list, you spot a small connection and smirk to yourself. The nib of your quill dips into a pot of ink and bridges two of your obligations. 

“This could be quite beneficial on both ends,” if you play your cards right…

Making some more careful notes, you gradually begin to piece everything together. But then there’s the issue of Sirius being sent to Azkaban. It’s healthy to have faith in yourself but if someone’s life and wellbeing are in danger, especially if it’s your son’s, you need to have a second, third and fourth plan at the ready. There needs to be a second, third and fourth plan for Regulus as well. Luck and misfortune will always have some influence on the dice you roll, there will never be an exception to that. You’ve learned this enough times in your previous life already, not just in business but everything else too. 

Your quill stops and rests beside your plans as the cogs in your brain turn with more purpose. Sirius still needs to become an animagus and Regulus needs to learn how to be a strong enough swimmer so that he can cast a spell to repel the Inferi. It would be beneficial if they both become well-equipped in duelling. That’ll require your lack of interference (maybe even your support) until Sirius’ fifth year, getting Regulus sorted with swimming lessons and encouraging both on their Defence Against the Dark Arts skills. You make a quick note of both solutions and their reasoning before linking both back to your list of obligations. 

The progress you’re making with these intervention plans is making headway. You just hope that you won’t tip the scales too far so that what little control you currently have slips right through your fingers and you’ll be left floundering. 

20th August 1971

You’ve fully taken over the cooking for all meals and your boys are looking much healthier. It warms your heart every time you see them happily eating your cooking, it was hard work keeping up with the pantry inventory, planning meals and catering to their individual tastes but it was good work that filled your heart with so much content, you hardly felt the fatigue creeping into your bones. 

Regulus isn’t a picky eater, he simply has a preference for some foods over others. He doesn’t like his eggs scrambled, only fried and with a runny yolk; he can’t stomach oysters or shellfish; he doesn’t like pulp in his juice and he’d rather eat a raw onion than have any trace of offal trimmings in his food. 

Sirius can practically eat anything and does so healthily, however, he’s more of a savoury person, leaving Regulus to own the sweet tooth palette by himself. Both adore cheese and you often create mini charcuterie boards for them to snack on. It was so adorable. There was plenty of time on your schedule to assign towards aesthetic food presentation so you’ve mastered the creation of salami roses. You’ve also found that Sirius prefers caramelised onion chutney to go with his mature cheeses whilst Regulus goes for a sweeter fig chutney. 

Currently, you were making them their own mini charcuterie boards. Both were displayed on a circular board with their favourite chutney at the very centre, held in a small ceramic container. And, with decorative prowess, you place their selection of meats, cheeses, crackers and grapes around it. 

“Do they look good Kreacher?” the house elf peers over the countertop surface and gives an affirming nod with a barely noticeable smile. 

“The young masters will be very happy, Mistress,” helpfully he suggests bringing the carefully prepared boards and crust-less finger sandwiches up to the boys’ study room for you but you shake your head. 

“Thank you, Kreacher, but I think I’ll bring up the food this time,” you’ve met their new private tutor several times already but she was always so tense around you; you’re determined to improve her impression through some good old exposure therapy. “Please prepare some tea and bring it up as soon as you’re done,” with your wand and a softly uttered ‘locomotor charcuterie boards and sandwiches’, the items lift into the air just slightly and you begin to move them out of the kitchen. 

“What tea should Kreacher be brewin’ this noon, Mistress?” 

“Oolong would be lovely today. Be sure to brew some Earl grey for Orion too but deliver the Oolong to us first please,” Kreacher’s struggles with your utterance of the polite ‘please’ persists but he continues with his set tasks regardless. The hunched-over house elf has noticed you’ve been prioritising the young masters much more than Orion recently; whenever you want to do something thoughtful, you always think of your sons first. Only last minute do you finally remember your workaholic husband and leave the snack preparations for Kreacher to fulfil and deliver alone. It’s a peculiar shift in attention, the wrinkled elf admits, but seeing his young master Regulus so happy, he doesn’t complain. Kreacher also admits that he’s growing a slight, mutual fondness for the elder Black brother, the two share in their love for Regulus and loyalty to you; now they’ve become friendly acquaintances. The house elf is a little happier and much more willing than ever before to stay loyal to his mistress and young masters’ sides. And Master Orion too, of course.   

Making your way up the stairs, the pretentious cow stuck in your head makes her presence known with inconsequential complaints.

“You’re spoiling those boys far too much!” Walburga shrieks and immediately makes your temples pound, “Sirius and Regulus don’t need this much attention, if you continue this they’re going to grow up soft and weak and unable to carry on the Black family name with the proper dignity and class!” For the sake of avoiding the horrid healing potion Kreacher’s having you consume after every fainting spell, you’ve been training yourself to build up as much resistance to her incessantly obnoxious yapping as much as possible — you’re getting there but you still need some practise. Currently, you are traversing the stairs so you’re taking every step with extra caution.

“Bitches should be seen and not heard,” her confounded gasp doesn’t escape you, “so kindly shut the fuck up,” the sarcastic cheerfulness in your tone makes her gasp once more and, like a coward, makes herself scarce. It seems as though you’ve gotten better at shutting the shrew up but she has yet to acclimatise herself to your shameless disrespect towards her.  Hopefully, she never gets used to your comments; it’s always such a pleasure being able to render her utterly speechless. 

With a pleased smile, you give a soft knock on the boys’ study room before entering. The boys gasp happily as soon as they see the levitating charcuterie boards and the plateful of crust-less sandwiches float closer and closer. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt but I think you all deserve a lunch break,” the boys cheer and happily dig in while you face their tutor with a small smile, “please feel free to have as many sandwiches as you want, we have plenty on offer,” her smile is hesitant and slightly trembles under your hold so she’s quick to look away and fix her focus onto the plate of sandwiches — her own, personal reprieve from having to interact with you.

Peony Knight. She’s an incredibly timid individual who seems to be in her element only when teaching children rather than in the company of said children’s adult parents — she has yet to look you in the eye for an extended period. Her head is an organised plight of feathery, strawberry-blonde hair and her eyes are a pair of opal pendants, so brilliantly blue but incandescent with a kaleidoscope of other jewel colours. Her resume was astounding but her family wasn’t very notable so you could only imagine her surprise when she received your response to her application with a test run of her skills. It was important to you that she comes from an uncommon house and family, you didn’t want to draw too much attention over switching tutors. At her tutoring trial run, she started very shaky but eventually found her confidence when focusing on your two boys rather than your lurking figure from the corner of the study. She was a good runner-up and quickly became the perfect choice when your boys showed favour towards her – the other candidates appeared to have been more affected by your presence in the room and taught the way they thought you wanted them to. 

“She’s nice and patient,” Regulus commented when you went to him after her trial lesson. 

“I like the way she explains things,” Sirius added beside him. 

That was all you needed to hire her as their private tutor. Peony’s timidity of you as an authority figure played in her favour very well.  

Hidden within a thick pile of stacked parchments and a small mountain of miscellaneous scrolls, you found Walburga’s carefully curated curriculum for the boys and handed it over to Peony. Walburga would know better than you what would be useful for her sons to learn. However, you were surprised at the amount of ‘muggle’ topics on her curated list. Admittedly, you were only expecting foundational wizarding lessons maybe on wands or classic pureblood etiquette so your shock was justified. Walburga’s reaction, however, wasn’t.  

“I teach them proper pureblood etiquette myself, you useless girl! And how can I expect my sons to grow up well if they aren’t taught the basics?! They’ll be able to advance as better wizards of the Black family that way. Moreover, muggles stick to and remain in the basics so don’t get smug with me, you filthy mud-blood!” Walburga screeched without restraint and with much offence after your initial revelation, leading to another fainting spell — the disgusting bitch…

In addition to Peony’s private tutoring, you’ve taken to providing your own private lessons to the boys, much to their surprise and slight hesitancy. However, as soon as you began the extended lessons after their usual morning session with Peony one day, they’ve since grown to love it. This didn’t happen every time, however, only on Tuesdays and Fridays. Today was one of those days, a Friday, and you’re so excited to see their reactions to what you have planned. 

Their schedules typically consist of Peony coming over a couple of hours before noon and she teaches them for two or three hours sessions every day except weekends. Mondays were for English language and literature (wizard and muggle), Tuesdays were for Economics, Numeracy and Financial literacy, Wednesdays were for French and Cursive handwriting practice, Thursdays were for muggle sciences (basic biology, physics and chemistry) and Fridays were for history and philosophy (wizard and muggle).

You reserve the fun lessons for your boys with yourself as their teacher. These were composed of lessons that typically challenged their problem-solving, creativity and other fundamental skills to set them up with a good foundation for school and life in general. This included fun puzzle-solving, art (in every medium the boys wanted), some written/scenario problem-solving and role-play scenarios. The first Friday you did this, you had the boys act out from rough, child-friendly scripts you drafted inspired by the Shakespearian play, Macbeth. It seemed like an innocuous lesson but you wanted to gauge their ethical understandings and reasonings. 

Throughout the scenes, you would spontaneously make them freeze frame to ask prompting questions that typically go along the lines of, ‘what would you do in this situation?’, ‘do think that was the right thing to do?’, and ‘why did you think your character did this even though they knew it was wrong?’. Both engaged very well with their own perspectives on the situation. 

At one point they got into a small argument that you needed to break up due to slightly differing standpoints on the scenario. It became slightly more heated than you expected but you were thankful for the opportunity to teach them how to communicate well with each other despite their differences. The lesson ended after that because tensions were still high and they were equally very stubborn about who should apologise first. 

It was going to take more than one lesson to be able to make them understand the rules and the importance of healthy communication, but that was to be expected. This was just the beginning so you’re hoping that if you stay consistent with fostering their ethical reasoning, communication and problem-solving skills, they will be able to remain brotherly despite their opposing Hogwarts houses. In the end, you made them apologise at the same time (to the count of three) and had them hug it out before telling them to say one thing they like about the other person. Evidently, they weren’t used to your new way of doing things and making amends but they (grumpily) did as they were told — and looked absolutely adorable doing it, their pouty faces were too much to bear! 

Approaching the two boys indulging in their individual charcuterie boards and occasionally exchanging bites of their share, you kneel between them and begin pleasant conversations about their current lesson. 

“Are you two having fun so far?” you could practically see Peony stiffen up like cement behind you, just from the telling gasp she lets out in the background. Being so high-strung isn’t going to be good for her health so you hope she gets used to your presence soon enough. You do feel slightly apologetic for her but she needs to know that people can change no matter how drastically. Hopefully, she takes this opportunity to grow some confidence in herself too. Someone so intelligent should walk with broader shoulders and a higher chin. 

“Yeah! Did you know Pythagoras had a cult?” Sirius was practically bouncing in his chair.

“No, he had a school of very intelligent mathematicians and musicians,” Regulus countered after swallowing his bite of cracker, cheese and grapes. 

Sirius rolls his eyes but immediately jumps into another topic, “he discovered the theory of pitch which is surprising coming from a guy who’s scared of beans,” he cracks himself up laughing at the statement.

Again, Regulus interjects in defence of the philosopher, “he wasn’t scared of beans,” the two brothers exchange narrowed stares, “He just believed that beans were the vessels for dead people’s souls and didn’t want to disrespect them by running through a bean field,” a small argument ensues but you don’t act, instead, you watch as a bystander in the hopes that your presence alone can keep them in check. If you ever feel the need to jump in at some point, you will. 

All too well, Sirius and Regulus remain aware of your lingering attendance to their quarrel and make the silent agreement to not escalate things too far. For a moment, they share a knowing look after briefly glancing your way and glaring at each other once again. You watch them huff and inhale a slow, shaky breath. They actively turn their voices down whilst continuing with their argument. It didn’t seem to go anywhere but both concluded it with less heat and more of a calm acknowledgement of each other’s differing sides. 

“Two people can have different opinions and still be friends. They only need to respect that the other person holds a different view and that it doesn’t make them a bad person,” they remembered your sage advice from their first extracurricular lesson with you. It was a massive shift in perspective to their growing minds and the impact it had on both of them was enough to permanently imprint the message into their heads.  

Unprompted, you lean forward and press a kiss to each of their foreheads, Sirius first and then Regulus, “I’m so proud of you two,” you watch as their cherubic cheeks flush an adorable, pink hue. Sirius scratches the back of his head bashfully whilst Regulus fiddles with his pen, both of them equally biting back a small smile from the praise, “you remembered what I taught you,” they look upon your elated smile with shy fulfilment as they nod slightly. “Another person’s opposing opinions might be something we don’t share or appreciate as much as they do but…” they lean forward ever so slightly, wanting to consciously heed your elaboration on the topic, “hearing or witnessing a different view will expand our perspective on the world and help us grow as people. We need to keep an open mind for these sorts of things because they can teach us so much. It might be hard to do sometimes, but I want to ask you two for a small favour,” they nod silently, not questioning or hesitating at your words, fully trusting in your sensible knowledge — their mother was always a brick wall when it came to the opinions of others, they couldn’t penetrate her, especially when it came to opposite views on blood purity so, to see her encouraging such undogmatic behaviour, is peculiar but in a strangely motivating way. They find that they want to do whatever it is that you want to ask them to do no matter what, “I want the two of you to try to understand the other side of any argument or opposite view. The world isn’t as black and white as we think it is. We have to try to be understanding and empathetic people. There may be reasons someone sees the world a certain way and even if we don’t agree or like their opinion, the least we can do is try to understand them. Just try. That’s all… that’s enough,”

It was a lot to take in and it was a lot to ask of such young minds that were still developing. But you weren’t asking for them to be perfect at it. All you want them to do is try.

“Alright, Mother,” Sirius nods with solid determination in his eyes. 

“Whatever you wish, Mother,” Regulus says at the same time, also glowing with resolve. 

Smiling happily, you bring them into a group hug, your arms easily curling around their small shoulders as you press another kiss to their temples, “you don’t have to be perfect, just try,“ you reiterate in a whisper, “I’m so proud of you, my darlings, you make mommy so happy,” you don’t see it but you feel their bright smiles press into your neck from either side as they return your embrace and nuzzle their faces into the junction of your neck and shoulders.

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Their lesson ended a few minutes ago and, like routine, they wave off Peony at the living room fireplace while you set up the study with all the things you planned on having them do for the afternoon. You asked them if they wanted to take a break before your lesson but they said they were happy to begin right away. They were able to detect the sparkle of excitement in your eyes as you left after their lunch break and were now filled with the same eagerness to begin your lesson.

Setting up their table with tools, aprons and a protective mat warmed your heart. You had planned so many things to do with your future children in your original life, read so many books and attended so many talks, lectures and groups on how to be a good mother that your heart was finally able to heal the scars that resulted from the infertility diagnosis you were slammed with years ago. You felt like a failure, not only as a mother but as a woman to be told that. It wasn’t until you were able to recover from that debilitating news that you finally began to consider adoption. It took years and years and the building of a corporate empire to finally get to that point but then, you were doomed once more. At the centre of a collision in the busy city streets, you lost consciously accepting your fate only to end up here…it was all quite a blessing really. Now you have two beautiful sons to call your own and to love with all of your heart. As an added bonus, they’re also two of your favourite characters from the Harry Potter universe. 

You could barely contain your excitement when you heard a small knock at the door to the study. They were here. 

“Come in, darlings,”

Stepping into the room, Sirius and Regulus gasp in awe and begin jumping on the spot ever so slightly from feverish anticipation. In your outstretched hands were two small, grey aprons, one displaying Sirius’ name and the other Regulus’ along the upper seam of the apron’s breast pocket. Without being asked, they step up to their aprons and reach forward to put the article on themselves. As they do so,  you announce what you will be doing for the afternoon. 

“Clay sculptures?” Sirius almost squeals in excitement as Regulus bounces on the balls of his feet. 

“We’ve never done that before,” Regulus chimes as you kneel behind him to help with tying up his apron, eventually moving on to redo Sirius’ clumsy knot as well.

“It’ll be fun,” you giggle, “fun and messy,” Sirius appreciates the hint of mischief in your voice and rushes to take a seat at the table with Regulus toddling along close behind him. You take a seat too and begin to talk them through the little sculpting tools they have beside them, the small mountain of clay at their disposal and the use for the bowls of water within reach. 

Regulus is listening but he can’t help glimpsing down at his stitched-on name tag every few seconds or so. His chest feels warm and so so tight that he feels like he’s about to burst. You had hand-stitched his name tag onto the apron yourself. He recognised the inexperienced, inconsistent stitches but he thinks it’s the most beautiful display of embroidery he has ever seen. There’s also the revelation that Regulus didn’t need to wait to go to Hogwarts to know that you would be attentive enough to do the same thing for his clothes as you did to Sirius’. He feels special and he loves the affectionate attention you were giving him, all the motherly love he and his older brother had always dreamed of experiencing was finally happening, not only through kind words but in warm hugs, soft kisses and silent acts of service too. He feels a surge of wanting to do well in everything, from studying to writing to eating to sleeping — all of it! He’ll do well in all of it. He only wants to make you proud. 

“Let’s begin with rolling out a piece of our clay,” you start, encouraging them to get messy, keep their clay hydrated and not worry about the state of their tools because you’ll all be washing them at the end together. After that, you had them make little balls using their hands and then roll out one ball into a flat sheet using their small rolling pins. With another ball, you instructed them to attempt making it flat using their hands instead, which helped you explain that moving around the clay with their hands makes the clay easier to mould.  

“Have you two been learning about muggle sciences?” you gently ask as the two go about flattening their spheres a little more so that they can carve patterns into them using their small wooden tools. 

“Yeah, I like the one called physics,” Sirius grins, eyes still focused on his clay.

“Me too!” Regulus chimes and the two brothers grin at each other, which makes you smile. 

“That’s very good,” you nod, spotting an opportunity, “so where do you think the heat comes from when we roll out our clay?” 

“From our hands,” Sirius immediately answers. 

“That’s right, anything else?”

The question is open for the two of them but Regulus is the one who answers next, “From all the moving around,”

“Brilliant, my darlings,” you praise and they grin pridefully. 

“Now, can you name the types of energies those are called? If you’ve learned about them, that is,” The brothers look at each other before beginning to ponder separately. The silence draws on so you decide to give them a little help, “What are all the energies called?” They do just fine with regurgitating the ten different energy types and that seems to be enough to prompt Regulus. 

“The moving around is kinetic energy,”

Sirius jumps to answer as well, “and our hands transfer the thermal energy,”

“Good good!” you give them a small round of applause, which they bashfully smile at, “you two are so clever!… What did I hear about this ‘transferring’ of energy, Siri?” your question comes out in a nonchalant tone. 

“Peony says that energy is stored and transferred,” Sirius answers, “and that they sometimes turn into another type of energy,”

“I see,” you look down at your own clay spheres and sheets, “where is the thermal energy from my hands coming from?” once again, they’re silent, “I think this can link to biology, specifically our biology,” that gets the cogs in their brains turning again and you can’t help but coo at their adorable thinking faces. 

“It’s from…” Regulus begins, immediately catching both yours and Sirius’ undivided attention, your eyes equally encouraging him to continue with his answer, “It’s from the energy in our food,”

Eyes sparkling with delight, you prompt him once more, “And what energy is that called?”

“…Chemical!”

“Good job!” Sirius claps for his brother’s success and reaches up for a high five that Regulus happily hits and once again, they’re grinning at each other. 

“What about for the movement?” This was a trick question but your boys are clever so you have full faith in them. Regulus already answered his share so he silently backs out from the arena by looking up at Sirius who begins to ruminate. “…well the movement has to come from somewhere, doesn’t it?” you thoughtfully point out, beginning to play around with your clay and trying to look innocent about it despite it being a definite clue. 

“It comes from us!” Sirius explains and looks down to play around with his clay too. You stay silent as you let him think and reach the conclusion on his own but you’re already so so proud of their intelligent displays, “…so it’s the same answer, it’s also from chemical energy…” he seems unsure from his tone but the minute he looks up to meet your eyes, the smile on your lips and the applause from you and Regulus has him beaming. 

“My sons are so so clever! I’m very proud of you both!”

That was enough of that — you only remember so much from your younger science education — so you move on to teach them about hatching and being able to stick two pieces of clay together with a little bit of water in order to make a small box with no lid. Thankfully, that was the final thing you intended to teach them before letting them make their own creations. 

“Now, you can make whatever you want with your clay. After this, I’ll bake them so they become solid, and then, we can paint them together. If you run out of clay, just ask and I’ll get you some more,” the two buzzed in their seats from the excitement and you were just as eager to let them loose with their creativity. “You can also make more than one thing but limit yourself to just two or three, please. Also make sure that whatever you make suits a function, it can be anything at all; you can even get some ideas from this muggle book on clay crafting,” you present them with the children’s clay craft book and place it where they can easily reach, “don’t mind getting the edges dirty, as long as the main text and pictures aren’t too muddied up by clay, it’s fine. It’s supposed to get used earnestly anyway,” they smile at your proactive reassurance but only Regulus goes for the clay book while Sirius goes about making his desired creation right away. 

For a while, Sirius cannot decide what to actually make. His speediness into action makes his younger brother peer over at him anxiously quite a few times but his initial unease gradually fades when he realises his older brother keeps changing his mind, flattening a scarcely sculpted creation just as quickly as he begins a new one. You don’t want to interrupt their independent creative flows and get to work on something you’ve already planned to create, a modest gift for your darling boys. 

Some time goes by in silence before you call for Kreacher to play one of the vinyls you managed to buy from a record shop when out on errands to muggle London. You had bought several along with the gramophone at the shop. When you first bought it home, the boys were eager to find out what it was and spent a lot of time happily winding it up so that you could all listen to the records together. It would have been preferable to get the electrical one but it would have been useless in the predominantly magic-operated house.  

“Great choice, Kreacher,” you smile at the house elf who nods timidly by the gramophone and promptly disappears when he feels as though he is no longer needed. The Beatles’ Abbey Road album plays in the background as the soundtrack to your clay sculpting session for several songs-worth of minutes before you finally get up to independently ask the boys about what they had chosen to make. ‘Oh! Darling’ sings in the distant corner as you kneel beside Sirius and quietly ask about his creation and what its function would be. In a whisper, he replies without turning to look at you, far too focused on his creation to divert any significant attention from it.  

“I’m making plant pots,” he begins, his pink tongue slightly poking out of the corner of his mouth, “for the cooking herbs you said you wanted to grow in the kitchen, but I’m also making one for Reggie since he says he wants to grow a plant in his room,” after his nonchalant explanation, your heart soars. It would be a fair assessment to say that Regulus has spoken to him about exploring gardening. You didn’t know your youngest wanted to grow a green thumb but it was a pleasant surprise — you’ll see about taking him to a muggle plant shop soon, you don’t quite trust wizarding plants in the household. A succulent or mini cactus would be a good choice. 

Pressing a kiss onto Sirius’ cheek, you whisper a soft thank you and praise his thoughtfulness before moving on to Regulus. For a moment, the elder brother wishes he could grow out his hair so that you are less likely to notice his flushed cheeks and red-tipped ears. You also kneel by Regulus’ side to whisper the same questions about his creation. 

“I’m making a little jewellery dish for your rings and necklaces and earrings, Mother. And I’m also going to make one for Siri since he’ll be getting the family ring when he’s older. Sirius’ one is going to be star-shaped because he’s named after the brightest star and yours is going to be heart-shaped because…well…” Regulus can’t finish his sentence as his blush floods his entire face with heat. But he doesn’t need to finish his explanation, he’s said all you needed to hear to coo over his thoughtfulness and press a kiss to his cheek also. They’re such sweet boys. That bitch Walburga was blessed to have them and yet she mistreated them so much, they didn’t deserve any of that. Tender love and care is what they truly deserve and that will be your sole mission and life’s purpose for this existence. 

“What are you making, Mother?” Regulus asks unprompted when you finally sit back down by your humble creations again. The youngest’s question makes Sirius perk up and eye you with interest, his grey eyes flicking between you and the carefully shaped clay by your hands. 

“I’m making little star-shaped pendants for my little star boys,” smiling at their flustered expressions, you elaborate further, “I’m going to poke a hole near the top point so I can thread it through a chain and you can wear it as a necklace or a bracelet — you can choose,” you show them one with a carved ’S’ on it, “this one is for Siri,” next you present the one with an ‘R’ on it, “and this one is for Reggie,” they beam in happiness at the getting such a personalised gift from you and continue their clay projects with new-found vigour. 

It was relatively easy to create the small star pendants so, inspired by Regulus’ creations, you proceeded to craft minimalist ring bands, one each of you. Sirius’ you carved the same sort of archaic patterns as that of his wand, for Regulus, you did simple lines with an occasional dot and for yours, evenly placed mini daisies. At first, it was purely for making sure that Regulus didn’t feel left out from Sirius getting the family ring but, looking at your modest creations, your magnate mind begins to manifest an innovative idea you’re itching to begin. Your schedule is going to fill up very quickly and soon — there isn’t a chance that you’ll wait on this. 

1st September 1971

Today couldn’t have crept up on you quickly enough. One minute you were settling into a cosy routine with your darling sons and now you were sending the eldest away for wizarding boarding school. It was happening too fast and your heart was constantly breaking from being torn between freely letting him go and childishly begging him to stay so that you could spend as much time with him as possible. Even the novelty of rushing onto platform 9¾ through the brick wall between platforms 9 and 10 couldn’t keep the tears from filling your eyes. However, your unhappiness and woe were quickly wiped away when Sirius expressed muted sadness at the idea that his father was too busy to see him off to Hogwarts. That morning, try as you might you couldn’t convince Orion to be there for his son. The git was lucky Sirius had interrupted your argument to express his acceptance and neutrality over the situation or else you would have clocked the pretentious asshole’s jaw. You would be surprised if the hypothetical punch landed hard enough to dislocate both of his temporomandibular joints. He would be eating through a tube if it weren’t for your little boy’s interruption but you’ll be sure to sink your teeth into your git of a husband as soon as you get home. 

Regulus seems to be whispering something to his older brother as they share a hug of goodbye. There was plenty of time for Sirius to get onto the train - you made sure of that - and you promised to wave him off as the train left the station so none of you were in any rush to leave the other. You kindly smile down at their wholesome interaction, completely drawn in by their innocence and heartfelt brotherly love for each other. Their relationship was worth preserving and building up. You were once saddened by Sirius and Regulus’ torn apart brotherhood but now, you’ll be devastated if your sons ever broke their bond like in the movies and books. So distracted by your loveable sons’ endearing display, you miss the shocked looks you were receiving from fellow parents of other children who were also boarding to attend Hogwarts — they simply couldn’t believe it! 

Everyone knew the matriarch of the Black family. However, the very picture of her now was not what was to be expected. Rumours of her cold and unsympathetic disposition appeared as slanderous lies when they took in your warm smile and fond stare, looking solely upon your two sons. It was well-known amongst the wizarding community that the famous Black family’s eldest son, Sirius Black, would begin attending Hogwarts this year. They expected to see a conceited and substantially reserved display of the family by the platform but not… not this! This is something for the papers! Had the matriarch of the most ancient and noble house of Black always looked this beautiful and kind? Surely not!… But their eyes weren’t being deceived, they were seeing the truth! Many gasped and openly stared, thankfully hushed down by the nosiness of the platform, whilst others didn’t know how to interpret the display and opted to avert their eyes.

Around his small wrist, Sirius keeps your clay star pendant around his wrist, which had been painted a deep black per his request while the ’S’ is marked with metallic silver paint. He has such good taste for aesthetics despite his young age. Every day there was something new to be proud of him for, no matter how little. You love being a mother!

“Oh darling, I’m going to miss you so so much. You must promise me that you’ll take care of yourself, don’t be scared about making friends,” you look him in the eye as you say so, combing your fingers through his hair and pushing away the curling locks from his forehead, “they’re going to love you just as much as I do,”

“Me too, Siri,” Regulus’ soft interjection brings out a mutual laugh from you and the eldest Black brother. Sirius brings Regulus into another hug that you are also brought into.

“And if they don’t like you then they can suffer having none of those mini pies I baked for you,” the two of you share a smirk and a wink. Sirius had requested some shelf-stable foods to bring such as his favourite chutney, jams and jerky, all homemade by you, especially for him. Of course, you didn’t say no. You even suggested bringing along something yummy for the train ride despite already providing him an allowance to spend on the trolley. 

“Regulus and I will write to you as often as we can so be on the lookout for our letters, okay?” he nods, eyes already sparkling from the anticipation and thought of receiving mail by owl solely for him. A letter addressed only to him, with his name on the envelope, and meant only for him to read — his feverish anticipation was to be expected. He couldn’t wait for his first letter. 

“I’ll write back just as much, promise!” 

“Good because if you don’t,” you scold playfully as Sirius bites back a cheeky giggle, “I’ll go to Hogwarts and demand a written letter back myself, I’ll bring Reggie with me too so that’s twice the heat you’ll be under young man, don’t forget,”

“Never,” Sirius whispers as he throws himself into your embrace once more. There’s never going to be enough hugging to satiate your aching heart, nor squash the sadness of watching your baby grow up too fast but, knowing the mischief and fun he’ll be getting up to, makes you almost giddy with excitement. You want to read all about it in his letters home! 

As much as you’d like to have said your farewells for longer, Sirius still needed to board and needed help with his luggage. Thankfully there were plenty of staff to help him lug it all around, which you smiled gratefully for. They seemed stunned by your courtesy but tipped their caps in acknowledgement and whispered a quick ‘thanks’ in return, regardless. 

Stepping back from the platform with Regulus at your side, the two of you try to follow Sirius along the train compartments as closely as you can until you finally see him settling into a box by himself. You wonder if he’ll be meeting his fellow marauders soon — god! You wish you could see them as adorable 11-year-old babies like your Sirius right now. 

Regulus toddles up to be closer to the window, opposed to the thought of separating from his brother and tries to hold one last conversation with Sirius as everyone waits for the train to depart. To hear him clearer, Sirius reaches up to open the window. Smiling at the pair fondly, you almost miss a heart-stopping sight. From your left peripheral, you spot an untameable mess of dark hair and round hazel eyes sparkling in jubilation, framed with an adorable pair of round glasses — you barely withhold your gasp of surprise. But all too soon, from your right, you glimpse a head of neatly trimmed but slightly grown-out brown hair, belonging to a rather spindly boy swamped under a cosy autumn-brown jumper. On his softly curving jaw is a light, nicking scar and when he turns his head ever so slightly, you see another more prominent scar marked across the pudge of his cheek. You’ve seen a wild, baby-ish James Potter and Remus Lupin. Almost all of the marauders were spotted getting onto the Hogwarts Express but do you even want to see the final member? No! Of course not! It was then that you noticed sandy-blonde hair weaving through the crowds of parents wishing their children farewell – a last-minute attempt at getting onto the train on time. Behind him, he is followed by a similarly blonde woman, his mother. Goodness, both share such startling similarities, both have curved edges to their silhouette, pink cheeks and sea-blue eyes. They looked like an adorable pair and you had to admit that Peter’s portly appearance made him incredibly endearing for his age. They looked like an ordinary, harmless mother-son pair, much like you and your boys…

A whistle pierces through the station and snaps you out of your daze. Finally turning back to your Sirius, your eyes tear up again for the umpteenth time that day. Regulus had rushed back to your side, clinging onto the long, black skirt of your dress with one hand as he used the other to wave goodbye. Silently, you mouth an ‘I love you’. He isn’t as surprised as when you whispered the same affection to him whilst still on the platform so he was able to mouth it back — ‘I love you too, Mother,’ — your heart pinches. Picking Regulus up, you sit him on the curve of your hip and wave Sirius off together. You see the slight shimmer of tears in Sirius’ eyes too just before the train moves too far and takes Sirius away with it. 

You miss him already.

SERIES M.LIST | NEXT. 05 : ... →

A/N : surprise! goodness, this was a really big chapter hehe~ i hope you darlings enjoyed the read! i also would like to gently remind everyone that i am no longer doing taglists but to be notified whenever i post something, please follow and turn on notifications for reblog side account: @thekqipond where i will be reblogging every new fic as soon as i post it! the reason i was able to post this chapter a month ahead of my official come-back in October was to test my taglist solution and the order of chapters i want to post by Christmas ;) i hope you enjoy!

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Brewing Storm Masterlist

Y/N “Candy” Gibbs, former FBI Agent, gets sent to the San Diego office helping to clean up some older cases that had been tracked all the way up to Washington. What she didn’t expect was to meet a cocky pilot that wasn’t just trying to get into her pants but was in serious trouble with a capital T after he and Andrew Caine witnessed a drug deal at the base gone wrong.

Warnings: 18+ in future chapters, MDNI, canon violence, mentions of injuries, fighting, drug trafficking

1 - San Diego 2 - Army vs Navy 3 - Questions ....