Sirius - Tumblr Posts

Astronomy but it’s the Black Brothers.

(besides the lyrics about teenage love 💀)

So, as a poet and a marauders fan.

YOU KNOW DAMN WELL IM MAKING POEMS ABOUT THE MARAUDERS

Can you guess who this poem is about????

(ALL POEMS WILL BE POSTED ON MY WATTPAD BOOK)

-

In my head I'm still young

I'm still sitting with everyone

I can't remember the last time mom was happy

Or when my brother spoke to me

I count the stars one by one

Hoping to connect with you somehow

The sun comes up

And that's when I know you're awake

The moon comes down

And I know the one person I love is awake

The cold floor is pressed against me

God how could you betray me

I'm a fucking dog begging for a piece of meat

Please bring him back to me

Let me see him before I die

My flesh going towards madness

I remember waking in a happy home

Where my brother was there

My stars and my moon

Then I woke up and prayed to the stars

Please take me with him

I want to look into his eyes one last time I want to see him angry when he finds out i escaped

Just please let me fucking see him

The traitor

You did this to me

I cannot get my revenge

I have to sit and stare at the moon

Talking to it like it was you

I pretended I was splitting a chocolate between you and I

I am too young to die I want to die in his arms

I want to feel like I'm in love again

He promised me memories

Yet I am still here locked in my cage

Mom, am I still young?

Dad, do you hate what I've done?

Brother, please don't hate me

Please say you'll forgive me

I'm begging ever so pathetically like doggy on his knees

Please forgive me

I'll forgive you

I promise to never burn your letters again

Just let me see my brother god dammit

I want you back

I want to come home

I never say please

But to my moon, stars and sun

Please come back

It wasn't me

-

LEAVE ANSWERS IN COMMENTS!!!!

I would also like to hear everyone's opinions you may have. :) It not only helps me plan out how he could turn out more, but also help me with building my ocs better.

Okay, sometimes I think that the only way for me to sketch out shiny drawings is if I have an exact idea on what to draw...

Anyways! Here's a teenage Sirius for you lovely humanformers people out there, I'll try to color him in later on when I get the time. (hehehe, his hair goes *floof*)

Little side note: Yes, he is a Decepticon, and he is a seeker. I plan on having him be related to Star, Thunder, and Sky in someway but I haven't decided on how yet.

Edit: Here's a colored version! :)

modern marauders au where they watch diary of a wimpy kid and sirius says remus kinda looks like rodrick

orion talking about a family reunion: and that kids is how i met your mother

trans Regulus Black

who’s dead name is Adara, a star in canis major like Sirius, but not as bright

he chose the name Regulus because it was one level brighter than the star Adara

he didn’t want to share a constellation with Sirius, always outshined

trans Regulus Black

can we talk about how Regulus means king and it’s from the constellation Leo so Regulus is

The Lion King

The star Sirius, shot handheld over the course of 20 seconds, with a 300mm lens.

The rainbow effect in the trail comes from the lack of an antialiasing filter on the camera's sensor: you see those colors because those are the specific sub-pixels that were struck by the light as it moved over them.

Sirius: Okay, help me please! Remus: Got two words for you. Sirius: I bet they won't be helpful. Remus: Your problem. Sirius: I was right

Sirius: You fuckers don’t know about my knife stick. It’s a knife taped to a stick and it’s the ultimate weapon. Lupin, not looking up from his book: Spear. Sirius: BLOCKED.

Sirius: In my defense, I was left unsupervised. Lupin: Wasn't Harry with you? Harry: In my defense, I was also left unsupervised.

Stars Sirius A (Amarion) and B (Bhagyatara)

The brightest star in the night sky is named Sirius, but Sirius is actually two stars, A and B.

A, or the Dog Star, a main sequence star like our own sun, while B, or the Pup Star, is what is called a white dwarf and doesn't produce as much light and heat as they did millions of years ago

The name Sirius comes from Greek, so I gave A more proper name. With B, I thought about Hindu religion and the idea of samsara as B was originally a different kind of star but is slowly dying out, so I gave them a hindi name.

Feel free to critique this, as I am not from India nor live there. I simply like learning about cultures and adding them to my art.

Screaming Portraits

Summary: Sirius has been anxiously waiting at Grimmauld Place for ages before his girl comes home.

Notes: Harry Potter Universe, pre- or post-Azkaban Sirius Black, blurb

“Sirius?” said Samantha, stepping out of the fireplace of 12 Grimmauld Place and dusting herself off. 

“Sam?” came Sirius’s voice from the second floor, followed quickly by a thundering of footsteps that stopped halfway down the stairs. “You’re back!”

Samantha Makeba practically flew up the other half of the stairs to meet Sirius, who spun her around as giggles of glee spilled from her lips. 

“Merlin, you’ve no idea how glad I am to see you,” said Sirius, setting Sam down on the landing and brushing her black coils from her face. 

“Oh, I think I have an inkling,” whispered Samantha against Sirius’s lips. She pushed herself onto her tiptoes, her lips just brushing Sirius’s—

“A MUDBLOOD! THE DISGRACE HAS TARNISHED THE BLACK REPUTATION FURTHER! I DIDN’T THINK IT POSSIBLE!” came the screech of Walburga Black—or rather, her portrait, which hung over a chest of drawers directly behind Samantha. Sirius and Sam jumped in surprise, having forgotten the awful painting’s existence in their rare moment of joy, and Sirius glared up at the wall behind Sam.

“SHUT IT, MOTHER!” he shouted, but the woman continued her ranting.

“A MUDBLOOD IN MY HOUSE—!”

“STOP SAYING THAT WORD—!”

“I CAN’T BELIEVE IT! A MUDBLOOD—!”

“STOP CALLING HER THAT—!”

“MY OWN FLESH AND BLOOD! FRATERNIZING WITH SUCH A FOUL CREATURE—!”

Sirius was overcome with white-hot rage. Samantha had seen him like this only a handful of times; once when he had lost the final Quidditch match against Slytherin in their third year, once when she was staying at James’s house and he had shown up at the door in the middle of the night, and once when Lucius Malfoy had called her something foul that Sirius refused to repeat to her afterwards as she was cleaning his knuckles of the blood that wasn’t his. 

But before she could do anything about it, Sirius had picked the short girl up by the waist, set her on the chest of drawers in front of the portrait, and pushed his lips into hers. Sam went with it, slightly surprised but quite happy to be this close to Sirius again. She had been on a mission for the Order for three weeks—an abnormally long time for a mission, if she was honest—and it was the longest she and Sirius had gone without seeing each other since they had met in their first year. 

Sirius’s hands shamelessly flew over Sam’s dark skin, creeping under her shirt and pressing into her back, bringing her chest flush against his as the kiss became fervent and desperate. Walburga’s hysterics had increased tenfold, but at this point, neither Sirius nor Samantha noticed it. They were drowning in each other, and as Samantha wrapped her legs around Sirius’s waist and he brought her to his room, they both knew: there was no place they’d rather be than in the other’s arms.

The Rebel Black Boy

Summary: Neither Sirius nor Freya want to be here, but at the very least, they can find solace in one dance together.

Notes: Harry Potter Universe, pre-Azkaban Sirius, blurb

Sirius took Freya’s hand and led her gracefully across the ballroom of Lestrange Manor. Mechanically, he secured her in his grip as the small string orchestra began again.

“How’ve you been, Fawley?” he asked in her ear, and Farah smiled at the sound of his voice.

“Alright,” she breathed out with some difficulty. “You?”

“Good, good.”

The two swept across the ballroom floor, parting the throngs of other couples like the Red Sea. There wasn’t a soul that couldn’t appreciate their grace, and no one dared interrupt such beauty as the two waltzed.

“Your corset is too tight.”

Sirius tapped Freya’s back gently, making a dull thump sound against the whalebone inside, then lifted her before continuing.

“Yes, well.” Freya sighed. “There’s nothing I can do now.”

“I could always loosen it for you,” offered Sirius. 

Freya smirked. “Merlin—what would my mother say if she caught the rebel Black boy undoing her prized daughter’s corset in a side-corridor?” she teased. Sirius rolled his eyes, a blush creeping up his neck despite himself.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he mumbled, spinning Freya before dipping her one last time as the piece ended. 

“I know, Black,” Freya said, standing up straight again. “I appreciate the offer, but my mother would kill me.” There was a dark flash of pain in Freya’s eyes before they went back to their regular golden-brown. “Thank you for the dance, Black. I’ll see you around.”

Freya pressed a kiss to Sirius’s cheek before striding gracefully to the ballroom’s perimeter, leaving the rebel Black brother blushing like a schoolgirl.

🐾 Marauders Masterlist 🐾

Sirius Black

Imagines ↳ Orestes — in which Marlene McKinnon is very very gay ... but her sister isn’t. ↳ Attention to Detail — in which Sirius is desperate to learn to tell when Lola is uncomfortable, especially after he figures it out the hard way. ↳The Linguist — in which rockstar!Sirius goes to visit his old friend—or were they more?—while on tour.      ↳Part 1: The Bouquet      ↳Part 2: The Bookshop      ↳Part 3: The Bistro (coming soon ...) ↳Strings — in which rockstar!Sirius reconnects with the girl of his dreams at the symphony. ↳Part 1      ↳Part 2

Blurbs ↳ The Rebel Black Boy — in which neither Sirius nor Freya want to be here, but at the very least, they can find solace in one dance together. ↳ Screaming Portraits — in which Sirius has been anxiously waiting at Grimmauld Place for ages before his girl comes home. ↳ What Do You Want To Be? — in which Sirius’s panic attack takes a sudden but very sweet turn. ↳ Squint And You'll See It — in which Sirius can't imagine why his potions partner won't wear her glasses.

Definitely Don’t Imagine ... (special series) ↳ ... Sirius Admiring from Afar  ↳ ... Sirius’s First Encounter with an Electric Blanket ↳ ... Sirius Getting You out of Class

Tiktok Trends ↳ Lipstick Stains — in which Y/N and Sirius do the trend in which one partner covers the other’s face in lipstick stains. ↳ Favorite Photo — in which Sirius does the trend where he can’t stop staring at his favorite photo of Y/N and himself

Remus Lupin

Imagines coming soon ... requests always opened!

Blurbs ↳ Smuggle-Born — in which James, Sirius, and Peter get the wrong idea about where Remus is going every couple days.

James Potter

Imagines ↳ September — in which James falls in love far too easily.

Blurbs ↳ Cute Kid — in which James Potter falls in love with one of his first graders' mom. (This is a blurb-headcannon-list-story-series thing? idk but it's cute so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ) ↳ Parent-Teacher Conferences ↳ Seeing Each Other Around Town ↳ Career Fair ↳ Liam and James Make You A Birthday Gift ↳ James Takes Liam to School ↳ You Get A Visitor in the ER ↳ Kindergarten Graduation

Sirius’s First Encounter with an Electric Blanket

Sirius: ... What is it?

Y/N: It’s an electric blanket.

Sirius: ...

Sirius: A what now?

Y/N: *laughing* Like a regular blanket but it warms you up.

Sirius: With magic?

Y/N: No, with electricity, through the wires.

Sirius: Huh ... *watches blanket warily* ... can I try?

Y/N: Sure!

Sirius: *makes bed, switches blanket on, gets under covers*

Sirius: Y/NNNNNN, nothing’s happeningggg!”

Y/N: *laughing* You have to plug it in, silly. 

Sirius: Oh. :|

Y/N: *plugs blanket into socket*

Sirius: *makes grabby hands* Come cuddle.

Y/N: *rolls eyes, gets under covers*

*after a couple minutes*

Sirius: *gASP* HOLY SHIT Y/N ITS WARM UNDER HERE CAN YOU FEEL THAT MERLIN’S LEFT BALLSACK THIS IS SO COOL I-

The Bouquet

Summary: Sirius is nervous to see his longtime ... something ... but a stop at a small Parisian florist shop helps him feel more prepared.

Notes: Harry Potter universe, famous!AU, rockstar!Sirius x reader, oneshot; this is the first character x reader oneshot I’ve written (the others are all OCs), so let me know if you like it! 

Part 2 available now!

Sirius kept his head down as he walked through the web of Parisian streets surrounding Sorbonne Université’s campus. He’d done his best to dress in ordinary clothes, even borrowing a t-shirt of Remus’s since all of his own were covered in sequins or made of mesh or fishnet fabric, and he sincerely hoped he wouldn’t be recognized. He loved Marauders fans dearly, but today, he simply wanted a moment to himself. His heart had nearly jumped into his throat when he saw Paris on the list of stops on the Marauders’ Europe tour, and he’d been buzzing to get to the City of Light since they had hit the road. 

A small florist’s shop caught Sirius’s attention as he turned down a narrow, cobble-paved alley, and, hoping to steady his anxious heart, he slipped inside. Immediately met with the scent of every fresh flower he could imagine (and the sensation that his leather jacket was sticking to his skin from the humidity), Sirius meandered his way through the narrow aisles, searching for a flower that stood out. 

“Puis-je vous aider, ma chérie?” 

Sirius peered over his shoulder—perhaps he hadn’t thought the whole ‘undercover’ thing all the way through—and let out a small, quick sigh. The woman who spoke was a teacup of a woman: decadent in appearance, warm, several decades older than he, and immensely small. Sirius figured she probably wouldn’t know who he is. 

“Oui, s’il vous plaît,” he said, cringing at his odd-sounding French. He was out of practice.

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” the woman asked, shuffling her way to stand next to him.

“Um, I’m not sure,” Sirius admitted, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. “I don’t often go flower shopping.”

The teacup woman laughed lightly. “Well, what are you buying the flowers for?” She peered knowingly at him over her spectacles. “A young lady, perhaps?” Sirius aggressively avoided eye contact as something akin to fire spread up his chest and neck, threatening to swallow him whole. She laughed again. “I see,” she said, peering at the bouquets around them. “I can help, ma cherie, don’t worry.” 

Sirius trailed after the teacup woman as she shuffled to the other end of the shop. A sign hung above several aisles, reading Crée le Tien: Create Your Own. She slowly made her way up one aisle, then down the next, picking and choosing a blossom here and there until she accumulated a beautiful fistful of small flowers, each prettier than the next. 

“Here,” she said, and Sirius took the bouquet. Pointing at each kind of blossom in turn, she listed: “Baby's Breath for everlasting love, forget-me-nots for respect and true love, Queen Anne’s Lace for safety, sweet alyssum for worth beyond beauty, and honeysuckle for true happiness. And an extra alyssum for you. When it starts to wilt, get her more.”

“Oh M-goodness, thank you,” Sirius said, taking the extra flower and peering at each flower. “Truly, this is perfect. Thank you.”

The teacup lady smiled knowingly. “I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you, ma cherie.”

Sirius blushed lightly. “I hope so.”

The Bookshop

Summary: Bouquet in hand, Sirius feels slightly more prepared to see her. A lot has happened in the last five years, and the two have a lot to catch up on.

Notes: Harry Potter universe, famous!AU, rockstar!Sirius x reader, oneshot; part two of The Linguist. Let me know if you like it! Part three coming soon ...

Part 1!

Fistfull of flowers collected and paid for, Sirius continued down the cobblestone alley, eyes peeled for his destination. He had visited Teliska & Rook’s Rare Books once before, when Y/N had first acquired a job at the small shop, but unfortunately hadn’t had the chance to revisit the cozy corner of Paris since. 

Sirius’s heart stuttered for a moment as he rounded another corner and spotted the bookshop; the sign’s gold lettering was crisp as ever despite the faded evergreen color surrounding it and the bay windows framing the tall oak door could probably do with some dusting, but otherwise, the shop was just as Sirius remembered it. He squinted at himself in the reflection of a bakery window, fixing his hair and rolling his shoulders back to fix his posture, holding the bouquet tightly in his left hand. With a breath that Sirius hoped sounded more confident than he felt, he made his way to Teliska & Rook’s Rare Books.

The heavy door opened with a groaning creak and the light tinkling of bells, and Sirius was immediately hit with the scent of old books. He nearly sneezed as a cloud of dust furled up from the ground, rubbing his nose furiously to rid himself of the feeling. 

Once he had recovered his bearings enough to look around, Sirius was surprised at the familiarity of everything. The shop was organized in the same manner it had been nearly five years ago, with one corner designated to modern reads, another serving as home to a cluttered cedar desk where patrons could check out, and the rest of the small building crammed full of bookshelves that reached from floor to ceiling. 

Closing the door behind him, Sirius tentatively stepped into the shop, which seemed alarmingly empty, and peered around. Truthfully, it seemed as if no one had stepped foot in the place in years. Sirius peered down one aisle of bookshelves, then another, until his eye caught on a familiar spine. Twelfth Night. Y/N’s favorite. She always found the classics a bit ridiculous, as her Muggle mother had made her read them all when she was of age, but Twelfth Night was “far too funny not to like”.

Sirius’s lips quirked up into a little grin, and he slid the volume off the shelf, opening it to a random page. To his mild surprise, this edition came with illustrations, though, upon closer inspection, Sirius guessed it wasn’t bought that way. Its previous owner seemed to have doodled the scenes in the margins, turning the book itself into a piece of art.

“Sérieux Noir?” An elderly man—Teliska of Teliska & Rook, if Sirius’ memory served him right—peered around the corner of the aisle in which Sirius stood, wide eyes magnified by Coke bottle glasses. “Sérieux, c’est toi?”

Sirius grinned. The man was very French and never could grasp that his name was ‘Sirius Black’ rather than ‘serious black’. 

“Oui, Monsieur. It’s been a while.”

“So it has, mon fils, so it has!” The lean man hobbled down the aisle towards Sirius, squeezing his shoulder with a falcon’s grip once he was within range. He looked to the bouquet in Sirius’ hand. “I assume you’re looking for our Y/N?”

Sirius smiled subconsciously. “Yes, I was.”

Teliska smiled knowingly. “She’s in the back. Elsie’s been getting sicker lately, so Y/N’s been drowning herself in work. You know how she gets.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Sirius said as the old man guided him down an aisle, then down another towards the back of the shop. “Tell Ms. Rook I send my love.”

Teliska peered at Sirius, magnified eyes holding a grave sort of look, but nodded nonetheless. “I will.” The odd pair stopped at a plain oak door with a brass knob tucked away in the furthest recess of the bookshop, and Sirius’ palms began to sweat. He wiped them hastily on his trousers, exchanging the bouquet from one hand to the other. “She’s just through there. Working on repairing some ancient tome for the Sorbonne. They’re working her to the bone these days—far too much for what they’re paying her  …” 

Teliska muttered on as he hobbled back towards the front of the shop, and Sirius watched the old man’s thin frame as he went, silently begging him to turn around, come back so he could put off the meeting he knew awaited him beyond the oak door with the brass knob. 

But the old man was out of sight soon enough, and Sirius was once again alone in the bookshop, surrounded by books and dust and everything Y/N loved. He faced the oak door again and bit the inside of his cheek. Why was he so nervous? He and Y/N were never really together, so why did he feel bad? What did he even feel bad for?

Sirius huffed out a sharp sigh and forced himself not to think. Just open the door. Open it. And he did. 

If the rest of Teliska & Rook’s was dusty and crammed with books, the back office hadn’t been dusted since the store’s opening and had to be waded through due to the sheer volume of books piled on the floor, in cabinets, on shelves and countertops—any and every square inch of would-be free space was occupied by a book. This time, Sirius did indeed sneeze when he was hit with a waft of dust, cringing immediately after at the harsh disruption to the otherwise silent back office. 

Shutting the creaky oak door as gently as possible, Sirius blinked several times at the maze of stacked books that lay between himself and where he knew Y/N’s desk resided. He was a relatively thin and quite well-built young man, but these narrow, precariously constructed corridors of books weren’t exactly something he had expertise in navigating. Nevertheless, Sirius would try. 

Each step was made with bated breath as Sirius expected any second for half the books in the room to come crumbling down around him, and each time they didn’t was a small miracle. He snuck about the back office for several minutes, trying to find his way towards Y/N’s desk until finally, he came upon a small clearing in the paper forest.

Y/N sat hunched over her desk, eyes focused on the ancient, half-rotted book in front of her as she traced line after line with a latex-clad finger. Sirius found himself unable to move for several moments, simply watching the young woman read through the ancient text, scribbling away what he assumed was the translation without so much as looking at her hand. 

It was only when Y/N’s focus switched from the ancient text to her own notes that she noticed a pair of black combat boots planted at the mouth of the book maze, and her head whipped up to look at the intruder. Sirius and Y/N simply stared at each other for several minutes, Sirius anxiously awaiting Y/N’s reaction to his presence, before Y/N’s shoulders dropped, and the corners of her mouth drew barely upwards.

“Sirius.”

Sirius took the fact that she didn’t seem to despise his very presence as a good sign. “Hi,” he said, and immediately regretted sounding so dense. “I—I brought you these,” he said hastily, an even poorer attempt to rescue the conversation from its already awkward start, and thrust the fistfull of flowers out at Y/N, who huffed out a small giggle. 

“Oh, thank you,” she said simply, rummaging around her desk until she found a small drinking glass filled with water that was probably a day old. She took the flowers from Sirius’s hand—Sirius was struggling more than he had anticipated to keep from hugging the living daylights out of her—and placed them in the makeshift vase before turning back to him. The two stood awkwardly across the small office from each other, the books keeping them from maintaining any real personal space, and Y/N coughed lightly. 

“Can I … can I give you a hug?” 

Sirius blinked dumbly. 

“Ye—of—yeah! Yeah, of course—! Of course.”

Y/N smiled, and the two met in the middle, embracing each other tightly. Sirius sighed into her hair, nose pressed into the crown of her head, and felt his heartbeat calm. They were fine. There was no need to worry—though his throat did swell up slightly when thin fingers found their way over his shoulders and towards the top of his spine. 

Sooner than Sirius would have liked, Y/N pulled away, gazing up at him with a lovely look in her eyes. Now that he had a good look, Sirius began to notice the little changes Y/N had taken on over the years: her hair was, oddly, shorter, as well as choppy, as if she had cut it herself; her eyes were lighter from the sun; the skin at the outer points of her eyes just barely hinted at crows feet. 

“It’s good to see you, Sirius,” Y/N said, lips closing around her beaming smile. 

“It’s good to see you, too,” Sirius said, much more softly than he had wanted as Y/N stepped out of his arms and resumed her spot at her desk.

“How’s your tour going so far?” she asked as Sirius found a wooden stool and dragged it up to the desk’s side. 

“You know about that?” he said, a sudden pressure in his chest beginning. 

Y/N’s brows furrowed. “Sirius, I know I spend all my time on the other end of a book maze—” she motioned to the mass of books he had traversed, “—but I don’t live under a rock.”

Sirius laughed, an embarrassed blush descending on his ears. “Right, right. I mean, I don’t like to assume. You never know.” Y/N nodded in understanding. “But it’s going well. Yeah, it’s fun. Remus has been working on something he won’t show the rest of us—we all think he’s seeing someone on the side—James is finally getting somewhere with Lily—”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Sirius chuckled. “It’s a miracle, truly. We’re all amazed. And … did you hear about the whole deal with Peter?”

Y/N nodded, and Sirius was thankful there was minimal pity in her expression—though there was something he couldn’t quite identify. “How are you all doing after that?”

“Eh, as good as can be expected,” Sirius said with a shrug. “Dorcas’s been on drums for us ever since. She and Marlene are still going strong.”

“Of course they are,” Y/N said with a hint of pride. “The relationships I put together always last.”

Sirius laughed lightly, eyes drifting through the room without really seeing before they landed again on Y/N. 

“And what about you? How’ve you been fairing?”

Y/N shrugged. “Ah, you know, the usual. Helping around the shop, doing some freelance work for the Sorbonne.”

“Mr. Teliska said something about how they don’t pay you enough,” Sirius mentioned, eyeing her with brows raised, and Y/N sighed, irritated. 

“Okay, listen,” she started, and Sirius laughed. 

“Had this conversation a lot now, have you?” he said, and Y/N rolled her eyes. 

“You’ve no idea.” Once Sirius’s giggling subsided, she continued. 

“Ivan thinks that because I’m basically doing research for the Sorbonne, I should be paid as much as a researcher—that I should be paid a salary—but, as I’ve explained to him countless times,”—Sirius began to laugh once again—“I simply don’t have the level of education that the Sorbonne is looking for in their faculty and therefore can’t be paid a faculty salary. I simply don’t have the financial means to go to school again.”

Sirius’ laughter had barely subsided when Y/N was finished, and he nodded understandingly. 

“You know, I could always just give you the money,” he suggested.

Sirius had never heard Y/N laugh so hard in his life. He laughed as well, though to a much lesser extent as he watched her hair bounce through peals of giggles.

“Oh please, Sirius,” Y/N said, delicately wiping a tear from her eye. “That’s absolutely ridiculous.”

“No it’s not.”

“Yes it is,” Y/N insisted, letting out an incredulous breath. “Sirius, I am absolutely not going to take money from you. And I don’t have to work at the Sorbonne anyway. I’m getting by just fine with what I’ve got.”

“Y/N, life isn’t about getting by, it’s about enjoying yourself,” Sirius said, and Y/N shook her head. “Love, you can’t expect me to not try to help you when I’ve got the means to.” The pet name slipped without Sirius’s permission, but he stood his ground as Y/N sunk further into her chair. He knew her well; at the beginning of their friendship, she would have insisted on refusing, and he would have asked if she would do the same in his position, and she would go silent, and Sirius would have won. But Y/N was the smartest person Sirius knew. She didn’t need to go through the whole conversation to know what would be said.

But Y/N’s mildly defeated look made Sirius’s mind itch uncomfortably; he didn’t want to make the rest of this visit awkward or weird in any way.

“Have you eaten today?” he asked, commandeering the conversation away from whatever it was before. Y/N peered up at him, biting her cheek.

“I had a coffee this morning,” she mumbled, and Sirius’s face fell into a disapproving frown. 

“Merlin’s beard, Y/N.”

“Do you want to get lunch?”

“Will you eat something if we go get lunch?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s get lunch.”

Y/N nodded and the two stood, Y/N finding a thin jacket and Sirius standing at the mouth of the book maze as he watched her pack her purse. 

“Ready?” she asked, throwing the strap over her head. Sirius simply nodded, and Y/N drew her wand from her pocket. With a simple wave of the thing, the books blocking the floor between the two and the door flew into the air, some stacking onto other already-precarious piles and others floating close to the ceiling, creating a sort of paper-and-ink trellis under which Y/N walked. Once at the door, Y/N peered back at Sirius, who was looking at the floating books, jaw hanging open. 

“Why didn’t I think of that?”

Strings [1]

Summary: Sirius disappeared a long while ago. As a child, you resented him for it, though the feeling dulled over time. But when he started appearing on the front covers of popular magazines, nearly a decade after he’d left your life, the ache in your chest showed itself again. Though, it seems he hadn’t forgotten about you as you had thought.

Notes: rockstar!Sirius Black x conductor!reader; this one’s pretty short, more like a prequel to the real one-shot, but I’m working on the second and final part now. Much love <3

The only thing Sirius enjoyed about summer holidays as a child were the months he spent in France. During July and August, the Black family would pack the essentials and move from Number Twelve to their townhouse in Paris. Orion and Walburga were both of the opinion that England, although fine enough to send their children to school in, was inferior to France in the arts and culture department. Thus, Regulus attended the French wizarding world’s most prestigious art school, the Mamot Académie des Arts, and Sirius spent his days in rehearsal for the Summer Youth Symphony of the Palais Garnier. 

If he was perfectly honest with himself, Sirius truly hated the violin. Sure, he was quite good—he held the position of concertmaster in the Youth Symphony by the time he was fifteen—and he enjoyed himself enough at rehearsals, but the instrument itself was loathsome. It was too high-pitched and far too elegant for his style. Sirius much preferred the electric guitars Muggles were using in their music at the time. But he had very little choice in what he did with his life, so he suffered through.

The one silver lining to Sirius’s annual musical internment was the Youth Symphony’s principal cellist. Y/N. She was a very skilled young individual, and Sirius couldn’t be more thankful for it, because that meant she sat directly across the conductor’s podium from him. This allowed him to, whenever he wasn’t performing his duties as concertmaster, watch her as she led her section with that quiet sort of elegance she exuded with everything she ever did. And Sirius loved to watch her. 

Sirius gained the confidence to approach Y/N after rehearsal during the summer of 1974, between his third and fourth year. He was fifteen, she fourteen, and as soon as they became friends, they began to wonder why they hadn’t done it earlier. The pair couldn’t be more different personality-wise—Y/N was miles more reserved than Sirius, though it only seemed to improve their friendship—but as they grew closer together, they realized that their families were quite similar as well, and each found solace in the other for the rest of that summer and the following one. 

Then, on Christmas Eve of 1975, Sirius ran away from home. He hadn’t seen Y/N since.

Strings [2]

Summary: Sirius disappeared a long while ago. As a child, you resented him for it, though the feeling dulled over time. But when he started appearing on the front covers of popular magazines, nearly a decade after he’d left your life, the ache in your chest showed itself again. Though, it seems he hadn’t forgotten about you as you had thought.

Notes: rockstar!Sirius Black x conductor!reader. The first part was only really meant as a sort of preview for this part, so this one’s quite a bit longer than the last, but I think I like this one quite a lot! 

Sirius was in a meeting when he spotted her name. James had got a call from Lily (who was slowly reciprocating the boy’s advances much to his delight), and the Marauders soon found themselves in her office, going over the logistics of their new album. Peter and Remus were leaning over Lily’s desk, pouring over the paperwork and hastily-scribbled notes that laid there, and James tried to do the same, though he kept getting distracted every couple minutes and staring at Lily with a dreamy, far-off look in his eyes.

Lily rented two rooms in a tall building in central London to run her small music production agency: one for her office space and the other as a sort of waiting area. She had insisted they meet in the waiting area in this particular instance—her office was apparently quite the mess—so James and Sirius sat on one couch while Lily, Peter, and Remus sat on the other, a low coffee table with a small stack of magazines separating them.

As Sirius’s eyes wandered, he recognized one of the magazines—a high-society lifestyle one that his mother would have loved—and, on a whim, began to flip through it, nodding or shaking his head or humming absent-mindedly when his opinion was asked for by his bandmates. And then, on page thirty-six, there she was.

Y/N Y/LN’s debut performance with Royal Opera House Symphony on 12 July, 1984

Sirius didn’t pay any attention for the rest of the meeting. As soon as he got back to his flat (magazine from Lily’s in tow, of course), he’d called the number in the article and bought himself a ticket. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting to come out of this symphony trip, but he’d be damned if he missed the opportunity to see Y/N again

Two weeks later, Sirius had donned his best symphony attire—black slacks borrowed from James, a wrinkled white button-down, and grey Converse because he forgot to ask to borrow James’s fancy loafers as well—and took the bus to London’s Royal Opera House. He had stopped at a florist’s shop on the way, choosing a delicate bouquet of crimson roses and baby’s breath. Finally seated, Sirius checked his watch and sighed, blushing lightly—forty-seven minutes before the start of the show. 

Surprisingly enough, Sirius wasn’t the earliest; there were plenty of people closer than he to the stage, and several dozen children on what seemed to be a school trip were chattering and giggling excitedly towards the very front. He was suddenly glad for his decision to sit in the second level of balconies; if he had sat in the very front, a kid from the school trip was sure to recognize him, and Sirius wasn’t really in the mood to sign autographs or take photos. 

His knee bounced anxiously as London’s elite filed into the seats around him. He received more than a few strange looks from the men and women, all in their tailcoats and gowns, but, for the first time in his life, his mother had trained him well, and he simply sent aggressively polite smiles to anyone who dared look at him funny until finally, the lights dimmed and the orchestra began to tune. 

Sirius had chosen a seat right at the edge of the balcony, hoping for the best view possible of the musicians below, but as much as he squinted and scoped out the cluster of cellos, he couldn’t find Y/N anywhere. After a minute or so, the orchestra had finished tuning, and it seemed that the entire concert hall held its breath for the conductor to appear.

And appear she did. 

The breath Sirius didn’t realize he was holding completely left his lungs as Y/N herself graced the stage, waving to the audience with a stunning smile as she made for the podium. Her dress was made completely of black tulle and satin, broad, layered ruffles flowing around her with effortless elegance that nearly made Sirius swoon. 

It hit him like a truck. Sirius hadn’t thought much about why a principal cellist would be featured in a magazine when he first saw her name, but it was miles more reasonable for a conductor to be written about. But—Christ—she was a year younger than he, and he was only twenty-four himself. She must’ve been the youngest conductor to perform at the Royal Opera House in decades—centuries, maybe even—

Sirius’s whirlwind of thoughts fell to an abrupt silence as the orchestra began to play. Even when he was old and grey, Sirius wouldn’t be able to recall a more enjoyable night full of Russian waltzes than that one. The muted horns and lulling strings sent him into a trance. All he could do was simply watch Y/N’s movements, graceful and emotive all at once, and let himself imagine that it was just he and she, that they were waltzing in an empty ballroom in one of those period pieces on the BBC channel that James’s mother loved so much. 

Sirius was overjoyed and terribly disappointed at the same time when the concert came to an end. As soon as Y/N turned to the audience and bowed, one hand over her heart as she motioned to her orchestra with the other, he was on his feet, bouquet under his arm as he clapped furiously. The concert hall was filled with applause even as she left the stage, and after a couple seconds, she returned, bowing once again with her orchestra. This happened three more times before the audience was sated, and the lights rose once again as everyone began to file out. 

Too impatient to mope along behind the elderly symphony-goers, Sirius squeezed through the throngs of people and, after little thought, snuck through a door labeled “Staff Only”. Behind it lay exactly what he was hoping: a completely empty staircase. Sirius bounded down it, bouquet clutched tightly in his left hand as his right tracked along the railing to keep him from falling, until he reached the first floor. 

The stairwell emptied into a staff corridor that led towards the stage, tall and lit with blinding fluorescents. Sirius could hear muffled chatter from the stage, which echoed off of the cement floors and cinder block walls. Through a door a dozen feet down the hall, someone bid farewell to someone else and, with a laugh, departed. Sirius began walking towards the voices. Just as he reached the door, it swung open, and he stepped back to avoid being smacked in the face. 

If Sirius was asked to imagine the moment he saw Y/N again after nearly a decade apart, he was sure he wouldn’t have imagined what actually happened. Y/N was smiling over her shoulder as she opened the door, facing away from Sirius until she stepped fully into the hallway. And of course, she was even more beautiful up close. Her black dress hugged her torso just perfectly, the skirt dancing around her legs as if it were alive. Her hair lay perfectly in its natural form, her skin clear and soft-looking, and Sirius was met with a waft of jasmine flower that nearly sent him to his knees. But when she finally turned and met Sirius’s excited gaze, the smile that spread across her lips dipped slightly.

“Oh,” she said. Sirius couldn’t tell if she was surprised in a good way or a bad one. “Um … hello, Sirius.”

The door fell shut behind her.

“Hello,” Sirius said and nearly cringed; he sounded like a blushing schoolboy. The pair stared at each other for a long moment until Sirius finally came to his senses. 

“Here,” he said and thrusted the bouquet out at her. “For you.”

“Oh. Thank you,” she said quietly, taking the flowers in one hand and adjusting the strap of her purse on her shoulder with the other. “They’re … beautiful.”

Sirius’s smile broadened, and the two once again stared at each other. 

“Um … are you alright?” Y/N finally asked, brows furrowed. Sirius blinked dumbly, and then nodded. 

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m good. Great, even.”

Y/N nodded slowly. “Okay … and, um …,” she scratched the back of her neck, “why are you here?”

Suddenly, Sirius felt incredibly awkward. Here he was, standing in front of a girl—a woman, now—whom he hadn’t seen in years. It was unfair of him to expect them to resume being the best of friends as if nothing had happened. 

“Uh, I just—I just heard you were performing and thought I might as well, um, come watch,” Sirius said. “Thought maybe we could catch up or hang out … or something.” The end of the sentence turned upwards like a question, but Sirius nearly gasped in relief when Y/N smiled mildly. 

“Um, sure, we can talk for a bit,” she said and began walking down the corridor towards the ticket booths. Sirius followed at her side like a lost puppy as the two walked in slightly-more-comfortable silence, passing through a door that led into the Royal Opera House’s atrium, then exiting into the warm summer night. 

“So,” Y/N began, “how’ve you been?”

“Good, I’ve been good!” Sirius said, walking between her and the empty street with his hands behind his back, fiddling nervously. “And you? Seems you’ve been doing well for yourself.” She laughed lightly, and Sirius beamed. 

“I’m doing well,” she confirmed. “I mean, I’m resident conductor for the Royal Opera House in London. I could do a lot worse.” They both chuckled. 

“Very true, you’re doing brilliantly,” Sirius said, and Y/N smiled up at him. Fucking hell. His heart was going to leap out of his mouth at this rate.

“I mean, you’re doing alright for yourself as well,” Y/N said. “You’ve got your own band and everything.”

Sirius blushed a little, embarrassed. “I wasn’t sure if you knew.”

Y/N scoffed humorously. “Goodness, Sirius, I don’t live under a rock. I see you on the cover of every magazine when I do my shopping.”

“I know you don’t live under a rock,” he said with a little laugh. “But still, I don’t like to assume.”

She shrugged. “Fair enough.”

The pair turned right and crossed a street.

“How’d you find out we were performing tonight anyway?” Y/N asked, looking up at Sirius. Her brows furrowed lightly, and a thin crease appeared between them. 

“Saw it in a magazine,” Sirius said. “Called in that night to order my ticket. You really think I was about to miss my childhood best friend’s debut performance?”

Y/N let out a scoff that was a little less than humorous. “You mean the girl you disappeared on in Year 11.”

Sirius’s smile fell. Of course.

Sirius couldn’t remember much of the time he spent at home before he ran away to James’s. His best memories were the ones with Y/N when they were children, sneaking out of their respective houses in the night to meet on the streets of Paris and have fun or talk or simply walk together in silence. After he ran away, Sirius didn’t think about her until the first summer he spent at the Potters’, when he realized he didn’t really have a way to get back to her. His parents had paid for him to be a part of the Youth Symphony, and he had stayed at their family house to attend. But Sirius refused to ask Mr. and Mrs. Potter for anything more than they had already done for him, even if it meant never seeing Y/N again. Still, he was a sixteen-year-old boy. He mourned the loss of his best friend, but he hadn’t thought of what she would think when he seemingly fell off the face of the planet.

“I’m really sorry for—”

“It’s fine,” Y/N interrupted. “Truly. I know you wouldn’t have stopped attending without a reason.”

“You deserve to know why,” Sirius countered. 

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “I don’t deserve to know anything you don’t want to tell me, Sirius.”

He frowned. “And if I do want to tell you?”

Y/N stopped walking, and Sirius stopped too. She was looking up at him with a look that sent a wave of nostalgia through his mind. She’d often look at him like that when he showed her his bruises and cuts after a particularly rough evening with his parents. She’d tend to them in silence, using the iodine wipes, antiseptic, and colorful band aids with stars on them that she’d begun to carry around for him, before sitting in front of him and watching him with that soft look of concern. 

With a small huff, Y/N switched the bouquet to the hand furthest from Sirius and took his hand and dragged him to the street, barely looking both ways before crossing.

“Um—where’re we going?” Sirius asked, trying his best to ignore how her hand pulled him along so firmly yet gently. He hoped his palms wouldn’t get sweaty. 

“You’ll see,” she said and dragged him into a small corner shop. 

A small bronze bell tinkled to life as the odd pair entered the small shop, and a small child popped up behind the counter. 

“Welcome to the Last Stop Corner Shop! Here, you’ll find all your last minute needs! Nail polish? We’ve got some! Beer in a bottle? Absolutely! Garlic salt? Aisle two, on your left! Beer in a can? Right next to the beer in a bottle! Hotdogs?—”

“Amir, you don’t have to do that every time I stop by,” Y/N chided, pulling Sirius further into the shop. 

“Oh, Y/N! It’s good to see you! Who’s this? Is he—”

“He’s a friend of mine. Sirius,” Y/N introduced. 

“Sirius?” Amir peered up at Sirius with the widest, most curious eyes the man had ever seen. “Hey, you’re that guy from TV! My sister reeeally likes you. She said the other day that she thinks you’re—”

“Amir!” came another voice from the back room, and a girl around sixteen rushed behind the counter. “Stop telling everyone that, you little—” As soon as she noticed Sirius’s presence, the girl froze. Her dark eyes widened to the size of tea saucers, and her eyes flicked from him to the tabloid magazines with his picture on the racks behind him, then back. Once she’d confirmed it was indeed Sirius Black standing in front of her, she simply stood, arms hanging at her sizes, and gaped. 

“Er …” Sirius glanced at Y/N for help, “hi there.”

“C’mon,” Y/N said quietly, quickly pushing him into the forest of aisles and out of the girl’s view. “Sorry about that,” she said with an embarrassed laugh. 

“S’alright,” Sirius said with a chuckle. “I'm getting it a lot more and more now-a-days.”

“I can imagine,” Y/N said, maneuvering them towards the back of the shop. “Fasha’s obsessed with the Marauders. Can’t get enough, truly. It’s all she plays whenever I stop by.”

Sirius smirked. “I’ll keep that in mind if ever the boys and I need, uh, nail polish, garlic salt, hotdogs, or beer in a can or a bottle.” Y/N laughed, nudging his hip with hers. Sirius blushed. Goodness, what was she doing to him?

“Don’t tease her. She idolizes you.”

“Oh she idolizes me, does she?”

Y/N glared up at him, and he snickered. The two came to a stop in front of a section of shelves full of wine, bottles glimmering in the shop’s flickering light. “Pick your poison,” she said, motioning to the shelves. Sirius considered for a moment before taking two and holding them up towards Y/N.

“Cabernet or Muscadelle?”

Y/N’s brows furrowed in thought for just a moment before she took the Cabernet, and the two made their way back towards the counter.Thankfully, Fasha had recovered enough from her shock that she was able to check them out (eyeing Sirius in poorly-veiled awe the entire time), and in no time, Sirius was dragged outside once again. Y/N led him a block or two further down the road, then across an empty intersection diagonally and into a small park. Once she decided they were deep enough into the park, she withdrew a Swiss army knife from her purse and extended the corkscrew attachment. 

“You drink bottles of wine in the park so often that you’ve got a Swiss army knife for it?” Sirius teased as Y/N opened the bottle, and she chuckled lightly. “This is the first time I’ve used the corkscrew bit,” she admitted, passing him the bottle. Sirius took a swig. “I usually only use the nail file.”

Sirius nodded in understanding, passing the bottle back. Y/N took a sip and sighed.

“So,” she said.

“So,” Sirius parroted back. The two walked in silence, passing the bottle back and forth leisurely as he tried to decide what to say. There was so much he wanted to tell her: how much he enjoyed singing and playing the guitar, how much he loved his friends, how he regretted leaving her so abruptly. Y/N looked up at him gently, and he took a slow breath. Even if they hadn’t seen each other in years, Sirius knew her. She wouldn’t press for more information than he was comfortable with giving or sell him out to the tabloids. She would simply listen. “Um, you … you know how my parents were.” Y/N nodded. “Yeah. I really liked going back to school because I didn’t have to … deal with them there. I could just live without having to watch my every move, y’know?” Again, she nodded, but Sirius didn’t really wait for a response, taking a quick gulp of wine before he continued. “My best mate, James—he’s our guitarist, but sometimes he does drums—he was always offering for me to stay with him over school holidays so I wouldn’t have to go home. His parents are lovely—seriously, some of the best people I’ve ever met—but I never wanted to bother them, y’know? So I didn’t ever take him up on it.

“So, one Christmas, I went back to my parents’, and they were awful—what’s new?” Y/N smiled a little sadly. “I … honestly, I don’t remember much, but I ended up at James’s doorstep one night, and Mrs. Potter wouldn’t let me go back home—not that I wanted to go, of course—for the rest of winter holiday, and then summer holiday as well, and the winter one after that, and …” Sirius sighed slightly. “I haven’t gone back to my parents’ house since. And honestly, I couldn’t care less about what they’re up to now.” Sirius swallowed thickly before plastering on a smile and looking down at Y/N. “Fuck ‘em, y’know?” She barely smiled.

The odd pair continued down the path, taking turns with the wine as the both of them began to stumble slightly.

“Thank you for telling me, Sirius,” Y/N said. She was beginning to grip onto his arm to keep steady, and Sirius didn’t think the warm feeling in his chest was only from the alcohol. 

“I’m still sorry I never tried to find you again,” Sirius mumbled, but Y/N just shrugged.

“I’d rather you keep me in the dark and get away from them than stay just to see me,” she reasoned. Sirius giggled, buzzed. “What?” she whined. “‘Get away from them,’” Sirius repeated, voice high and exaggerated, before giggling again. “You say ‘them’ like they’re the scum of the earth.” “They are,” Y/N said indignantly. “Horrible people. They’re the worst. If I ever see your mother or father in person, I’d be happy to punch them in the thr—oh look, a little gazebo!” Before Sirius’s addled brain could catch up, she was already running for the little wooden structure next to a large lake. He stumbled after her, blinking very hard to get the world to stop spinning, and finally leaned against one of the wood pillars, watching as Y/N examined the benches inside with drunken interest. A giddy smile made its way onto his face without his knowing, and she turned to him with a childishly excited look. “It’s like in The Sound of Music. Y’know, when Liesl dances with that one guy in the glass pavilion while it’s raining?” Her face fell into a more thoughtful look. “Liesl actually quite annoyed me in that movie. She needed to find a hobby or something.”

Sirius laughed, setting the now only half-full wine bottle down on a bench and bowing dramatically at Y/N, hand extended.

“May I have this dance, my dear?” he asked in his worst old-timey posh accent. Y/N snorted but played along, taking his hand delicately.

“Of course, my darling,” she said in an equally ridiculous voice. Sirius grinned and stood straight once he’d moved the bouquet safely onto the bench beside the wine. He held her close to his chest with one arm and held her right arm out to the side as he led them in a very messy waltz, humming an odd mix of the waltzes she had conducted an hour or two earlier. Y/N resorted to simply standing on his feet as he moved them both, her arms curling round the back of his neck and his hands coming to rest at the small of her back. Eventually, Sirius’s voice subsided, and the two were left swaying in the center of the gazebo in silence.

“Y’know,” said Y/N into Sirius’s chest, and he dipped his head to hear her better, “I really hated you when you left.” Sirius let out a long, quiet breath, and he pressed his frowning lips to the top of her head. “I hated that I wouldn’t be able to talk to anyone about my parents. I hated that you didn’t call or write to explain what happened. I … I hated that my life would be so much more unbearable without you.” She shifted to look up at him. “I missed you terribly, Sirius.”

Sirius smoothed Y/N’s hair out of her face, his hand moving to rest at the nape of her neck. “I missed you too, lovely. I’m sorry I never called or wrote.”

“I forgive you,” Y/N whispered. 

Despite his swimming vision, Sirius could see Y/N perfectly. Even in the dark, the moon shone on her soft skin, in her slightly glossy eyes … and Sirius couldn’t bring himself to look away. He couldn’t think of anything else he wanted to look at, be it in that moment or ever again. 

“Did I ever tell you how … beautiful you are?” When he was drunk, Sirius’s mouth tended to speak without his brain’s permission, but in this instance, he didn’t quite mind. Y/N’s eyes narrowed, her full cheeks pushing upward in a beaming smile. Sirius couldn’t get enough. 

“Truly, Y/N. You’re absolutely gorgeous.”

“Oh goodness.” Y/N buried her head back into Sirius’s chest, and he laughed slightly, lightly pulling her back into his sight. 

“Just …” 

He hesitated. Was this a good idea? 

Again, his mouth spoke for him.

“Tell me if you want me to stop. Okay?”

Y/N nodded. Sirius smiled slightly, and his eyes fluttered from her glassy ones to her lips and back. Very slowly, his head dipped down, and he gently pressed his lips into hers. 

In the moment between when Sirius kissed Y/N and when Y/N kissed him back, Sirius was afraid he had made a terrible mistake. She didn’t move a muscle for one second, then two, and he was prepared to pull back when finally, her soft lips pushed gently back into his. The two stood sheltered under the gazebo for a long while, tasting the Cabernet on each other’s lips and leaving the questions for their future selves to deal with. 

What were they? Would this work with Sirius and the tabloids? Where would they go from here?

But those were all questions for tomorrow …