a revolution is a simple thing

Gellert could understand the feeling. He was quite pleased too when he first saw Graves' brownstone house. It had two levels and a basement, also the collection of books was quite impressive as well. Not exactly in his line of work, being a wizard of a darker kind of magic, but for an Auror, he was well documented.

At the boy's observation, Gellert inclined his head politely, "Thank you, Credence, but from now on, my home is yours as well. It is all yours now as much as it is mine." he was aware that he will need to get some papers done before that was all legally settled, but as far as Gellert was concerned, it was already done since the moment he added Credence's signature to the wards, also making them stricter so that Tina and her new friend would not be able to enter.

"Of course you can. Why don't you go wash up and I'll set the table." and pointed to the bathroom door as he went to the large kitchen, lighting up some hovering candles and with a wave of his wand he filled the table with first, second meals and some fruit as deserts, a large pomegranate bursting it's inner richness in deep red against a silver plate. When he was done, Gellert cleaned himself too, taking a seat at the head of the table, licking his lips as he looked at the pomegranate, yearning to have Credence eat our of his hand, seeing the dark red juices darkening his beautiful lips.

Gellert breathed in and pushed himself away from the table, just a little and tapped his leg, the tiniest bit of twinkle in his eye, almost making it look like a different color for just a fraction of a second.

"Come, my love," he smiled ever so gently.

Credence took his time at the sink, losing himself for a bit in watching the water while struggling to feel it. He still felt strange, like some undead phantom creature, after the whole ordeal. He was grateful to be here, but being somewhere new brought its own difficulties too. He wondered if existence would ever be comfortable for him.

He lifted his gaze to the mirror. He looked paler than usual, but there was some improvement in awareness after he washed his face.

When he returned to the dining room he lingered in the doorway as though questioning if he really belonged here. He didn’t deserve Mr. Graves’ help or attention or touch yet so desperately longed for it.

But he slowly approached to stand at his side and looked over everything arranged at the table and the magical candles.

The simple act of touching Graves’ shoulder helps to ground him in the new reality, and Credence lowers onto his lap, daring to kiss him again.

Regulus accepted his hand, and once they were out of the water and he had caught his breath, he spoke gently. “Thank you…”

Surveying the boy, Regulus supposed he must have been to the cave before; it was the only explanation of why they could share space in the same dreamscape.

Sitting on his knees, he looked over their surroundings for a moment, listening to the waves beyond the cursed cave. Then attention returning to the boy, he asked, “Would you tell my brother I’m sorry?” The boy knew Sirius—a spirit’s intuition.

Vague, he knew. He needed to define what he was sorry for. There had been plenty of blood on his hands, probably minor friends Sirius had. But the most impactful? “I’m… I’m the one who drew Peter into the Death Eater scene. It was very easy to take advantage of the crush he had on me… and I wanted to entertain Barty.”

Barty… Tears blurred Regulus’ vision just from the mention of him.

He unfolded his legs to sit against a smooth rock, glancing to the water’s edge. He belonged here. He deserved to be here, pulled under the water in sick near-skeletal embrace again and again. But he did allow himself the hope one day his soulmate would come to him. Through joining Barty in death was the only path by which he could leave the cave behind.

Harry just nodded, pulling his hand away as quickly as he could; while he was more than happy to help someone it didn’t mean he wanted the gesture to linger. He shuddered before looking around the cave- what was he doing back here?

“Your Brother?” Then it dawned on him, the cave… a brother. “You’re Sirius’s brother.” His expression hardened for a moment before looking around. “I’m sorry I can’t…” he looked down, how did he even begin to explain that Sirius was dead; that it was Harry’s fault? His eyes snapped open at the mention of Peter.

Any sorrow in his heart was replaced by rage. “Oh you’re sorry for that are you?” he asked coldly, wondering if he should say something further; why was he here? How was he here? He had never met Regulus Black, and Sirius had only mentioned him briefly from what he could recall.

“Sirius is dead.” Harry said finally, his voice flat. “He died at the end of my fifth year… Bellatrix killed him.” He explained and hesitated; surely there had been a better way to deliver that news. “He died saving my life in the department of mysteries… for what it’s worth I’m sorry.” Why was he apologizing? “Peter’s dead too. But I’m not sorry for that one.”

“What?”

Regulus had heard him, but it couldn’t be true. Why would this boy tell such a lie? This nonsense was insulting.

“Bellatrix?” His grey eyes narrowed in consternation. He shook his head, murmuring after a moment, “She wouldn’t do that.” Stating this aloud brought more certainty. “That’s ridiculous! I know her very well. What a dreadful thing to say! Is this your idea of a joke? You’re sick. Well. If you insist, then…”

Regulus scoffed.

“…He must have deserved it.”

✒✒✒✒

Severus had noticed her. Of course, he had. One does not spend years perfecting the fine art of existing unnoticed without developing an acute awareness of when they are being watched. And this girl - Black, Regulus - had been glancing at him far too often for it to be incidental.

For a time, he had ignored it. People stared at him for all sorts of reasons: curiosity, revulsion, the mindless urge to gawp at things that stood apart. He assumed hers was no different. But she was not like the others, she was quiet. And while her lineage should have been reason enough to dismiss her outright - a Black, the sort of girl who belonged to the gilded aristocracy at the top of Slytherin's social pyramid - she did not preen or prattle like the others.

Which, naturally, meant she had to be observed. Cautiously. In the name of self-preservation, of course. So he had watched her in return, subtly, from beneath the curtain of his lank hair, taking note of the rhythmic clatter of her typewriter. Precision. Efficiency. Competence. Rare traits.

But even the early hours could not be spared the infestation of fools.

The sound of wet, sloppy kissing broke the fragile peace of the common room, and Severus' upper lip curled in unbidden disgust. He had little patience for public displays of stupidity at the best of times, but this was vile. A most nauseating display of teenage courtship - all tongue and desperation, like starved dogs let loose on a carcass. He fought the urge to conjure a well-placed Aguamenti and settled instead for shifting in his seat with a deliberate sneer.

Regulus, however, handled it first. Severus nearly smirked. Instead, he allowed the sentiment to settle into his chest like a well-brewed draught - bitter, potent, and unexpectedly agreeable. Regulus had a sharp tongue when provoked, something which became evident in the exchange that followed. Her disdain was clinical, withering, almost impressive. Severus was not particularly given to admiration, but he could acknowledge that she handled the confrontation with more elegance than he might have. Less immediate inclination toward hexing, more calculated barbs - a different school of thought, but effective.

Still, something about the way she looked at the lake gave him pause. There was something unsettled in her gaze, a quiet weight pressing behind her eyes, restrained. And if Severus Snape knew anything, he knew the look of someone trapped in a circumstance they did not want.

He understood. Not that it mattered.

His gaze darted back to his book, resuming his reading as if the entire affair had been beneath his notice. He would not acknowledge it, he would not acknowledge her. It was none of his concern.

But.

"Love is dead, and so is my appetite." he said out loud, despite himself and his better judgement, sharp and derisive.

She hated the way her heart hung onto every breath. Every word. Of his.

She didn’t dare look at him directly. Not now. Not when her gaze had already settled on his reflection. It was safer this way. So why did it hurt?

“Do you think it’s true,” she asked after a moment of silence, “Mary Shelley kept Percy’s heart when he died?”

Regulus was sure much of what was said about a historical figure was made up by someone at some point and passed around as fact. Not that she expected Severus to know who either of these people were… but something about him made her feel if anyone else in this place were to know, it would be him.

(“Why do we not have literature classes?” she had asked Professor Slughorn one day. “Maybe we could start something… Maybe–”

“Oh, there are a number of courses like that at Oxford.”

Ladies like she did not go to university.)

He nearly growled with frustration when he saw Tina fall through the floor and heard steps hurrying away. It was too late to go after them and he'd probably just waste his time looking for them. He wasn't as foolish as to believe that they were not skilled in their magic, in fact the opposite, and preferred not to underestimate his opponents.

When Credence returned, Gellert sighed and opened his arms, "Come here, my boy. Let's go home and rest." and closed his arms around him, kissing his temple lightly as he aparated them both to a back alley near Graves' house as the wards he put in place would not allow them to aparate inside. He took the boy's hand and looked around to make sure that the streets were clear of any that could harm the boy and when he was sure there was no threat, he took Credence inside, stopping for a moment in the hallway and with his wand in hand, rose his hands, strengthening the wards as a light blue shimmer lifted from the ground, and adding some modification to them as well.

Turning in his heels, the coat billowing around him, Gellert approached the boy "You're welcome to stay here for as long as you wish. Please don't be shy to ask or take what you need," he smirked and extended a hand to show Credence the way around the house.

As Credence settled into Graves’ embrace, he closed his eyes, lifting his hands to Graves’ back and wondering why this closeness felt so special. Did he really care about him? It was hard to trust anyone.

He was so focused on touching Mr. Graves he didn’t notice the apparating until he drew away. Credence quietly followed after him and into the house. He had never been anywhere like it. He lingered in the entryway before advancing in slow, bewildered steps.

“Your home is beautiful, Mr. Graves.” he said softly. Credence had of course known Mr. Graves was a wealthy man—anyone could know that—but this was far beyond anything he could have expected given his own living conditions.

Really, he could stay here? He looked away from Percival to continue admiring the house. “Okay… Could I have something to eat? Maybe?” He wasn’t entirely certain if he had the energy to eat. He was often simply too tired for it, but he felt as though he should try.

Ohhh my god, there’s the most incredible starcest spin the bottle fic that you HAVE to read!!! I cannot express how obsessed I am with it I’ve reread it like 20 times

Winner Takes All by the_invisibility_bloke

And and and here’s another one, not spin the bottle but it is a kissing party game— and make sure you read the sequel

A Moment's Silence (when my baby *brother* puts his mouth on me) by matthewfairhoe

He breathed out, pushing the smoke through his pursed lips as the skulls hollowed eyes glowed. The smoke danced around him, turning over itself as they clouded his vision and in the grey and empty, visions started to appear. He saw the face of a boy, hurt, sitting in the corner of a cold room, gathering his knees to his chest and the sound of an angry woman; then he saw the boy with him, the way he looked at him with his big eyes, filled with hope and begging, red plumped lips as if they were sore; Gellert was standing on the top of a building with a smirk observing how the darkness descended upon the city, and the lingering signature of a great magical force that was not his own.

One day, as he roamed the streets, looking for the place in his visions, he saw the boy from across the street, he was giving out pamphlets and stood there for a moment, watching him from afar before he turned to a vacant alley and without a word, as he was walking, his body morphed and black wings spread from his back as his body became smaller, covered with black feathers and great wings that almost made no sound as he rose up into the sky.

He followed the boy and perched on one of the church's windowsills, one pale eye looking inside and fluttering over to the next window. There was the woman from his vision and the boy, the window was open and his talons clicked on the surface, tilting his head and unimpressed by the woman's antics but slipping closer to the boy when he came out to the window. The raven closed its eyes when the boy hugged him, its head buried between the boys neck and shoulder and croaked softly before he perched on the edge and perched on the top of a fence, waiting for him. The raven made small sounds and went from fence to tree, as if going along with the boy but as the rain started picking up, he flew over and careful not to dig its talons too hard, it landed on Credence's shoulder, a pale eye looking at him in silence. Gellert was curious to see where the boy was going.

Credence flinched hard when he suddenly felt something at his shoulder, but then he was happy to realize it was his bird friend. “You found me!” He reached to pet his feathers and feel his talons; it was always a great comfort to touch him. Her? Him? How do you tell with a bird? Although he wasn’t sure why, him felt right. “It’s true then: that ravens are smart.”

He continued down the sidewalk, keeping his gaze low to avoid noticing anyone looking at him. Once the rain came down much harder he paid more attention to the buildings he passed and stepped into the next antique shop.

For a while he was alone as he browsed, then someone stepped through velvet curtains. Glancing over, Credence noticed a sign for tarot readings.

The client left, and the shopkeeper looked over the odd boy. “You don’t have an appointment.”

“No.” Credence shifted, uncomfortable with being perceived. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to look around…”

“That’s alright. I have time.” The shopkeeper gestured to the divination room.

“Oh, I don’t… I don’t have money.”

“I didn’t ask for money. That your familiar?”

“What?”

“The bird.”

“I don’t know.”

“Come have a reading.” She said and disappeared beyond the curtain.

Credence followed, figuring the chance to sit was as good a reason as any to cooperate. He watched quietly as the witch shuffled a deck of cards and passed them through mugwort smoke.

Slowly she began drawing cards, and Credence observed the way she was looking increasingly fearful until she was angry. That was strange… Why would she be mad at him?

“I know I have pretty bad luck.” Credence said.

She gathered the cards back together and stood. “Please leave.”

“What did I—“

“NOW.” she said.

And Credence realized she wasn’t glaring at him but at the bird.

“O-okay… I’m sorry…” He didn’t even know what he was sorry for. He was sorry he existed. So out from the shop he went. “I guess we’ll go to the park.” he told the bird.