The Bookshop

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?”

What Do You Want To Be?

Summary: Sirius has a panic attack that takes a very sweet turn.

Notes: Harry Potter Universe, Sirius Black x gn!reader, modern AU or post-Hogwarts. I got the inspiration for this from a stand-up Netflix special, but I can’t remember the name of it. 

Sirius’s mind worked in a peculiar way. It ran at a million miles a minute no matter the situation, and although sometimes that was a good thing, it often worked against him. The smallest mistake could send his mind down a spiraling drain of anxiety and panic, and despite James, Peter, and Remus’s best efforts, it was difficult to fish him out again. Sometimes, the best thing the boys could do for Sirius was hold his hand and wait it out by his side.

Then, Sirius met Y/N. They were quite good friends from the very beginning (James loved to accuse Y/N of stealing Sirius away from him—all in good fun, of course), but Y/N had never seen Sirius’s descent into his own mind until the two started dating. Sirius had harbored a secret crush on Y/N since only a couple of days after they first met, and, much to his immense delight and utter relief, the feelings were reciprocated.

Now, nearly four years into their relationship, Y/N was the expert in keeping Sirius present and focused, even when his mind was trying to drag him down the drain. (It also helped that Sirius hadn’t had any contact with his mother or father in years, so he was much less prone to panic attacks overall.) James, Peter, and Remus had also gotten a bit better at calming Sirius’s nerves when necessary, but Y/N was still the best at it. 

Sirius smiled slightly at the sound of the door unlocking and took another plate from the sink, hoping to load the dishwasher quickly enough to greet her at the door. The sound of the door closing quickly erased that possibility, and Sirius’s shoulders sagged some; though he knew it wasn’t a big deal, he was a little more than disappointed that he wasn’t—

Sirius gasped sharply as arms encircled his waist, his own pulled tight to his chest in a defensive position. The next thing he knew, the plates in his hands were on the ground, shattered, and he was on his knees, apologizing and trying to pick up the pieces with shaky fingers.

“I’m sorry, ‘m sorry, I didn’t mean to—promise, I didn’t mean it—”

“Sirius.” Sirius’s head shook violently back and forth as if trying to shake away the soothing effect Y/N’s voice had on his mind, and apologies continued to spew from his mouth as he cut himself on the pieces’ sharp edges. “Sirius, love—look at me.” With a gentle but firm hand, Y/N held Sirius’s cheek and guided him to look away from the shards of plate in his bloody hands. 

“‘M sorry.” Sirius was tearful now as he looked into Y/N’s eyes, but they shook their head gently.

“Don’t panic,” they said simply. “What do you want to be?”

The first time Y/N had said this to Sirius was right after he had awoken from a nightmare. He had run away to the Potters’ house only days before, and James had invited Y/N over, knowing they would want to be with Sirius. The two had only just started dating, and although this aspect to their relationship was new, James was sure that if anything happened, Y/N would be able to calm Sirius with ease. Y/N was still awake when Sirius woke from his nightmare that night, and he barely had time to crawl into their arms before he began to shake and cry uncontrollably. And just as James knew would happen, with two simple sentences, Y/N had calmed Sirius’s mind from a racing whirlwind of anger and fear to a light drizzle of emptiness—an emptiness that was at least partially soothed by their presence. 

So on this particular afternoon on the kitchen floor, Sirius’s peculiar mind processed these two sentences very carefully. “Don’t panic” was easy enough; Sirius took a deep (if shaky) breath and forced himself to blink slowly, keeping his eyes on Y/N’s throughout. “What do you want to be?” was a little trickier, but his mind gave him a head start: a good friend, an auror, Harry’s favorite uncle … it was almost like a game, and it distracted his mind perfectly from the panic he was experiencing just seconds ago. And then, his mind threw another answer in his face, and it came flying out of his mouth without his permission.

“Your husband.”

The silence that followed Sirius’s words filled every crevice of the small London apartment. Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, and Sirius’s mind, which had finally quieted for just a moment, began to refill with anxiety.

“Yeah?” Y/N said, and Sirius nodded slowly. They smiled. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

Y/N guided Sirius into the bathroom and cleaned his cuts with gentle touches, apologizing each time he winced at the rubbing alcohol. Sirius could scarcely believe what had just occurred. He had just proposed, right? Usually proposals were a surprise to one party involved—sometimes both parties had a sort of “game plan” before it all—but he’d never heard of a proposal that was a surprise for both people, so did this count? He didn’t even have a ring. Should he have gotten one by now?—

“Sirius,” said Y/N, and Sirius looked down at them. 

“Yes?” he whispered. They gazed up at him with soft eyes, and the stress that had built up in the last minute or so flowed away yet again. Y/N placed a soft palm on Sirius’s cheek, their other thumb rubbing circles over the bone of his right wrist. 

“You feeling any better?” they asked, and Sirius nodded twice. Y/N smiled at that, taking a curl that fell in front of his eyes and smoothing it back. “Did you mean to say that … earlier?” they asked, and for once, Sirius found a hint of anxiety in their eyes instead of his.

Biting his lip, Sirius shrugged. “I mean … I didn’t plan it or anything, and I haven’t got a … a ring, but …” he shrugged again, his eyes falling to Y/N’s where it lay over his bandaged hand. He bit his lip. “But I … I wouldn’t mind, as long as … as long as you’re … happy with it.”

Y/N grinned up at him, light and mischievous. “Do you want to marry me, Sirius Black?” they asked in a teasing tone, and Sirius groaned, leaning forward and burying his face in the crook of their shoulder and neck. 

“Don’t tease,” he murmured, lips pressed to Y/N’s collarbone as he spoke. 

“Well, you’ve got to give a response to my proposal, Mr. Black,” Y/N responded with a faux-innocent look. “D’you wanna marry me?”

Sirius peered out from his spot on Y/N’s shoulder and nodded, a fierce blush burning over his face. “Yeah, I wanna marry you,” he whispered against their lips, which curled up with a genuine smile. 

“We can go down to the courthouse later, if you’d like?” they whispered, and Sirius nodded, pressing a sweet, warm kiss to their lips.

Attention to Detail

Summary: Sirius is desperate to learn to tell when Lola is uncomfortable, especially after he figures it out the hard way.

Notes: Harry Potter Universe, pre-Azkaban Sirius, imagine, bad summary hehe...

“Why hello there, Miss Da Silva.” Lola winced. “Interested in making some magic together? My wand is at the ready.” 

Sirius Black leaned against the side of Lola’s chair, smirking down at her as she tried to ignore him and complete her schoolwork.

“Sirius, leave the poor girl alone,” said Remus from a sofa closer to the fireplace. “Let her do her work.”

“Oh please, Moony, you can’t ask me to do that,” Sirius complained. “She’s just too gorgeous not to flirt with!”

“Please just leave me alone, Black,” said Lola, cringing at how timid she sounded. “I’ve got a page and a half on werewolves due tomorrow.”

“Well, I can help you with that, buttercup,” said Sirius, sitting on the arm of Lola’s chair and peering into her lap, where a textbook lay. 

“Oh no, it’s alright. I don’t need help,” said Lola with an anxious smile. “Truly, I’m fine.”

“Pads, seriously—leave her be,” said Remus with a pointed look at his friend. Sirius rolled his eyes and trudged out of the common room, obviously disgruntled, leaving Lola to her work.

“Sorry about him,” said Remus, offering an apologetic smile.

“It’s alright,” said Lola with a shrug. “Happens all the time.”

“Do other guys bother you?” said Remus, slightly concerned, but Lola quickly shook her head.

“No! No, not really. Just him.”

Remus frowned. This had been going on for three months, now; Sirius “I-Flirt-With-Everything-That-Breathes” Black pined after Lola “Number-One- Bookworm” Da Silva, who shied away from every one of his advances. It was obvious to him that Sirius took Lola more seriously than the dozens of other girls he had dated—he would have given up ages ago if he didn’t—but to Remus, Lola was still a mystery. 

“Good afternoon, sugar,” said Sirius, leaning against the bookshelf across from where Lola sat in the library. “Y’know, I’m not wearing an invisibility cloak, but…do you think I could still visit your restricted section tonight?”

“Please, just—leave me alone, Black,” said Lola, barely meeting the grey eyes that watched her closely as a red-hot flooded down her ears and up her neck.

“Oh come on, gorgeous. Just one date—or night. Whichever you prefer—”

“Sirius!” came Remus’s hushed scolding, and Sirius rolled his eyes. 

“What, Moony?” he snapped.

“We are in a library. Couldn’t your flirting wait a few fucking hours?” said Remus, obviously agitated. 

“That time of the month for you, Moony?” said Sirius patronizingly, and Remus growled under his breath. 

“Really, though, Lola.” Sirius sat across her, pulling her book away so she had no choice but to look at him. “I ought to complain to those Muggle radio stations you and Evans listen to because they didn’t name you this week’s hottest single.”

Lola blushed even more (she hadn’t realized it was possible, but here she was) and averted her eyes with a huff. Of course, she was quite flattered that she had somehow managed to attract the attentions Sirius Black of all people, but at times, he made her very uncomfortable. She wasn’t used anyone paying her any mind, much less the infamous womanizer of Hogwarts.

“I’m begging you, Black. Please let me do my work.” Lola looked desperately at Remus, whose eyebrows furrowed.

“Really, mate,” said Remus. “Lay off her.”

Sirius looked from Lola to Remus and back. For the first time that Sirius could remember, Lola looked him in the eyes, and he immediately felt embarrassed and terribly stupid. 

Lola seemed sincerely uncomfortable.

It was never Sirius’s intention to make Lola at all upset — or anyone, for that matter. He may have been a bit of a lady’s man, but Sirius was a perpetual gentleman, always asking for permission before doing anything with anyone. He knew what it was like to have no control, and he would never in a million years purposefully make anyone feel that way. 

“O-oh...okay,” stammered Sirius. “Sorry. Sorry, I’ll…I’ll just….” He motioned to the library entrance, glanced once more at Lola’s tense form, and left. 

Remus furrowed his brow. Never in the six years he had known Sirius had he been so nervous around a girl as he had just then. It was evident that Lola was slightly ill at ease from Sirius’s flirtations, but, though others had rejected him before, he had never seemed this worried.

“Remus?” said Lola, and he looked at the small girl several chairs down from him. “Could you…could you tell him I’m sorry? I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings—”

“Lola,” Remus quickly interrupted, “you have no need to apologize. It should be Sirius apologizing for making you uncomfortable.”

Lola simply nodded, giving Remus an anxious smile before gathering her things and leaving the library.

~~~   ~~~   ~~~   ~~~   ~~~

It had been two weeks. 

Remus watched as Sirius kept his distance from Lola. He tried distracting himself with other girls, though he very quickly realized it wasn’t working and stopped sleeping around altogether. Sirius had instead taken up watching over Lola from afar; he made sure she was given earmuffs in Herbology, charmed her Potions cauldron to keep from overflowing, and occasionally hexed the more…persistent suitors that deemed themselves worthy of her. (He always disagreed with their evaluation, much to Remus’s lack of surprise).

Remus also watched as Lola’s popularity amongst the male populous (and lesbian...and bisexual...and pansexual...and...well, everyone, really) of Hogwarts grew. Sirius’s attention seemed to have drawn everyone else’s, even after the two stopped talking—so much so to the point where Lola could barely go a day without an exceptionally bold Hufflepuff chaser or timid Ravenclaw with bubblegum-pink hair asking her to Hogsmeade. 

Though if she was honest with herself, Lola almost missed Sirius’s teasing and pick-up lines. Sure, he was crude, but it was evident that his words came from somewhere sincere—

Or maybe they didn't.

This was the thought that plagued Lola’s mind as she went about the two weeks following her encounter with Sirius in the library. Sirius had a reputation—that much was very well known—so was that all this was? A ruse to keep his reputation? Had he wanted to sleep with the school’s nerd just to add her to his ever-growing list of “conquests”?

Lola shook her head; it was a feeble attempt to physically rid herself of the thoughts of Sirius. She removed her glasses, cleaned them with her sleeve, and replaced them before continuing to revise for her Charms test at the end of the week. But of course, there’s no rest for the wicked.

“Ahem.” A light, awkward cough made Lola’s face fall, and she peered over her textbook at the boy that leaned against a bookshelf, as he had done two weeks prior. He wore Muggle clothes now—a leather jacket and skinny jeans—but he seemed terribly nervous. “A—er...hi Lola,” said Sirius, scratching the back of his neck. “If...if you were a dementor, I’d become a criminal just so you would kiss me.”

Lola blushed profusely.

“Erm...have a good day, Lola.”

And with that, he turned and left. 

This became Sirius and Lola’s new routine: Sirius would find Lola somewhere (usually the library), tell her a sweet pick-up line (she much preferred the wholesome ones to the lewd ones), and either leave or sit quietly and study with her (surprisingly enough, it was usually the latter).

At this point, Sirius was well aware of his feelings for Lola. It was hard to ignore his instant worry for her comfort when he talked to her or the pounding of his heart when she was near, and after barely a week of fighting his feelings, Sirius gave up. 

With Sirius’s presence around Lola, however, her suitors began to lose their courage. The number of people that approached her declined, and Lola slowly went back to her comfortable daily ritual of blending in with the students of Hogwarts, unnoticed. 

It became Sirius’s favorite pastime to daydream about her; the way her fingers would feel running through his hair…her soft skin under his fingers…how her full lips would feel against his…. 

But with time, Sirius’s fantasies became lewd, and before long, he could scarcely look at her without feeling an insatiable desire to pin her against a wall and snog her into oblivion. Of course, he had quite a bit of self-control and, let’s be honest, human decency, which was more than enough to keep the nagging want imprisoned in the back of his mind.

It was a cold evening in the library when Sirius spotted two Slytherin boys snickering in a far corner. They seemed to point at Lola, then return to their whispering with ugly smirks. It put Sirius on edge, but he knew he couldn’t do anything about it. Lola hadn’t even seen them, so they weren’t bothering her. 

But when they came and sat on either side of her, Sirius barely kept from snapping his quill in half. 

“Hey, Da Silva,” said one—a brutish boy with crooked teeth. “Whatcha doin’?”

“Er—schoolwork,” said Lola, looking nervously from one boy to the other. “Can I help you?”

“Sure you can, babygirl,” said the other—a tall, lanky lad who, troublingly enough, was relatively attractive. He rested his arm around the back of Lola’s chair, and she sat forward slightly in an effort to get away from it. “Why don’t we get out of here and have some fun, yeah?”

Lola’s eyes widened, and she sent a pleading look towards Sirius. 

“Erm, I-I’m fine, thanks,” she said meekly. The lanky boy’s smirk turned to a sneer, and he had a maliciousness behind his eyes that Sirius didn’t like. 

Quickly, Sirius packed his bag, practically ran around the table, snatched up Lola’s things, grabbed her hand, and dragged her out of the library. Lola followed in silence as Sirius’s pace didn’t slow, keeping her small fingers as tightly wrapped around his big ones as his were around hers. 

Sirius wasn’t sure where he was going, but he knew he couldn’t have sat and watched as those two gits made Lola uncomfortable. He walked aimlessly with Lola’s hand in his until he found himself in an abandoned corridor with no idea where he actually was. Coming to his senses, he released her hand and backed away slightly.

“I-I’m sorr—” he began—

“N-no, it’s perfectly fine, truely!—” interrupted Lola.

“I shouldn’t have—”

“I appreciate it—”

“You do?” said Sirius finally, and Lola nodded with a small but genuine smile. 

“Yeah,” she said softly. “They’ve been…they’ve been bothering me in the halls and it’s gotten to be a bit much.”

“For Merlin’s sake,” muttered Sirius. How hadn’t he noticed? “I’m sorry, Lola.”

“No, it’s alright,” she quickly reassured.

“No it’s not! I was the one that made you uncomfortable that day in the library, and now no one leaves you alone because of it!—”

“Sirius.” Lola took a step towards him, bathing in the light of the sunset that fell through the window. Sirius’s breath caught in his throat as Lola held his hand. “It’s fine. Really. You didn’t mean to, and when you realized what you did, you stopped. That’s more than I can say for most guys at this school.” She chuckled slightly, looking out of the window.

Sirius always liked brown eyes. Sure, they looked regular from day to day…but on those rare occasions when someone with brown eyes stepped into golden light…their eyes glowed.

Lola’s eyes were the darkest brown Sirius had ever seen, but just then, in the light of the autumn sunset, Sirius felt like he was sinking in an infinite pot of honey, falling further and further towards the endless bottom. 

And it was the most wonderful sensation he had ever experienced. 

“I might as well be under the Imperius Curse,” said Sirius, unable to remove his eyes from Lola’s as she looked at him with those wide caramel irises, “because I’d do absolutely anything for you.”

Lola laughed lightly and looked down in an attempt to hide her blush, but Sirius had other ideas. He gently hooked his finger under Lola’s chin and brought her face back up to look at him.

“Really, Lola,” said Sirius. “I’m sorry. I never meant to make you uncomfortable. You…you’re just…you’re a wonderful person, and I really quite like you.”

“You do?” said Lola, tawny eyes widening, and Sirius nodded slightly.

“I-I know my reputation isn’t the best, but—if you want—we could maybe go to Hogsmeade together sometime?”

Lola froze for a moment. Of course, she really liked Sirius, too, but she couldn’t believe that he was asking her, of all people, to Hogsmeade.

“Me?” she questioned after a moment of silence. “You’re asking me?”

“Of course I am,” said Sirius with a slightly awkward smile, dropping the hand under her chin. “Who else would I want to go with?”

“I-I mean, I just—I don’t know—you don’t seem the type to go for someone like me,” said Lola. 

“Why not? You’re amazing,” said Sirius, pulling an indignant face.

“Well, I don’t know…you’re just…you’re too cool for me—”

“You’re cool.”

“—and I’m a complete bookworm! Your fanclub would have my head!”

“They wouldn’t.”

“They absolutely would! I don’t understand why you’re so interested in—”

Sirius couldn’t bear it anymore. 

He leaned forward slightly and pressed his chapped  lips against Lola’s soft ones before realizing what he had done and jerking away. The two stood in silence, staring with wide eyes as they realized what Sirius had done. Lola brought a hand to her lips, the tingling sensation that now resided there fading slightly.

“Fuck, Lola, I’m sorry.” Sirius stumbled back, taking his hand from Lola and running it anxiously through his hair. “I’m sorry, Lola, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, I promise. I—argh! I just—you were rambling and-and your eyes and—”

Lola stepped right in front of Sirius and in the blink of an eye, she was an inch from his lips.

“L-Lola, what are you doing?” said Sirius with a gulp, looking down at Lola as she held the lapels of his robes.

“Lean down, you nitwit,” she said. “You’re too tall.”

Masterlist of Masterlists

Hi there, lovely!

I’m boricua! I’m thrilled that you’ve decided to take the time to snoop around here, and I hope you like my writing! I’m always open to constructive criticism and can also serve as a wall to talk to/bounce ideas off of if you can’t think of anyone else to ask. We can talk about anything you want, from waffles vs pancakes to how Monet married his widowed daughter-in-law. Literally, anything goes as long as you’re respectful to me, others, and yourself. :)

In terms of what I write for exactly, I’m open to pretty much anything! Harry Potter was what got me into writing fanfiction in the first place, so I write mostly for the Marauders, but I love Marvel and Stranger Things as well, so if you have any requests for those or any other fandoms, ask and I’ll do my best to fulfill your wishes! 

Update: yall, guess what. It's been a while. Quelle suprise. (not the dangerously high levels of sarcasm and self-loathing because I promise you I want to post more here, I'm just bad at it im sorryyyyyyy) Nothing much is new, just trying to continue that goddamn Sirius saga (I think I'm sorta on my way with it actually) but I've also been into AUs a lot lately, so maybe I'll do someting with that *shrug* we'll see. I hope you, my lovely, are doing wonderfully though! Much much love <3 (22/2/2024)

Happy reading! - boricua

Masterlists

↳ Marauders Masterlist

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.”