Fanfic: Stay With Me by HopeForTheWitch (Free to read, 564,411Clicks)


Who needs Las Vegas to get drunk-married when you have magic? Not Sirius and Harry, that’s for sure.


No Archive Warnings ApplySirius Black/Harry PotterAccidental Marriage Age Difference Breeding Come Inflation Daddy Kink Dubious Consent Dom/sub Undertones Large Cock Magical Bond Orgasm Delay/Denial Praise Kink Pseudo-Incest Sex Toys Size Kink Unrealistic Sex Unsafe Sex



Who needs Las Vegas to get drunk-married when you have magic? Not Sirius and Harry, that’s for sure.Or: a writer’s smut exercise.


I don’t know what this either, stop looking at me like that. This is as of yet unfinished but I couldn’t wait to share it. I don’t know how long it’ll be. I’m breaking the writing up per day rather than basing it on wordcount, so some chapters will be longer than others. I’m 13k in and I’m about to finish with Day 2 lmao. Oh god, this was just supposed to be 5k of “awww they got accidentally married” but no. The tags are what I have planned, but I don’t know when they’ll come into play and how. Thanks to the bf for suggesting the addition of “come inflation”, now I know where his head’s at lol.Anyway, have fun with my m/m smut exercises :)Edit: LMAO I accidentally put this under the Sirius Black & Harry Potter tag rather than the ship tag. WHOOPS.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

Day Zero

(Friday) July 31st, 1998
 The terraced house is bright, everything white or beige or a light grey, from the furniture to the walls to the curtains. They bought it together a month ago and Harry spent a lot of energy on getting it ready while Sirius was at the Ministry sorting out his exoneration, so it’s the first time he sees it. Harry stands near the ceiling high windows looking out over a small grassy garden as he waits with bated breath for the verdict. He hopes his godfather will like the way it looks. They’re in a quiet neighbourhood from what the real estate company said, nothing exciting ever happening here, located in a relatively small town where nobody knows him, something both of them desperately need in the aftermath of the war.“Well?” Harry asks when nothing is forthcoming, biting his lip. “What do you think?”Sirius turns to face him, eyes bright. “I love it,” he says. “It’s perfect.”Harry smiles then. “You haven’t even seen upstairs. We have three bedrooms and our bathroom has a bath as well as a shower cabin.”“I’m sure it’s just as great.” Sirius comes over to embrace him, hugging him tightly to his chest. “I love you,” he says, kissing the crown of Harry’s head. “Thank you, baby.” He pauses. “Shit, I’m sorry, not baby. Sweetheart.”Harry feels inexplicably warm at the obvious slip. It’s happened plenty of times before, though Sirius never notices before now and Harry never corrects him. “It’s okay, I don’t mind when you call me that,” he confesses quietly.“You don’t mind?”“No, honest. I like it.” It’s on the tip of his tongue to add the word Daddy to it, but he doesn’t at the last moment, too shamefaced and too confused about this odd desire.Sirius rests his hands on Harry’s hips and kisses his forehead. “Whatever you want, baby, anything at all.” He looks up and around. “So when do we move?” he asks with a contagious grin. “Today?”

They don’t move that day, but they move the day after, boxing up everything they want to keep under Kreacher’s judgmental gaze. The house-elf clearly thinks they’re leaving behind things they should take with them to the new house, but neither Harry nor Sirius cares much for the Dark artefacts Kreacher keeps trying to sneak into a box here and there.“Kreacher, stop it,” Sirius snaps finally. “We’re not taking that.”The house-elf recoils, dropping the crystal goblet on the kitchen tiles where it shatters. He glares hatefully, muttering darkly under his breath, then disappears.Harry sighs, though he’s happy to have an excuse to use magic, cleaning up the mess with a few waves of his wand. He’ll be eighteen in two weeks time, done with Hogwarts now and halfway through the summer holidays. Last year he didn’t have the luxury of enjoying the fact that he was allowed to use magic outside of school, but now he’s more than making up for it. Plus, his enthusiasm amuses Sirius, which is always a nice bonus. Harry loves making Sirius happy, would make it into a job except he starts auror training in the autumn because it seemed like a good idea at the time. He’s not sure how that’ll go, regretting applying to the academy now that summer has started and Ron isn’t around to hype him up about it. In all honesty he just wants to stay with Sirius, spend time with his godfather, but he knows that’s nothing more than a fanciful dream.

Moving takes them three days and then fully unpacking takes another couple of days, but by the end of next week they’re finally settled in their new house. They don’t have all of their furniture yet but that’s alright, it’s home already purely because it’s theirs.There’s a comfortable L-shaped sofa in the living room that Harry all but plants himself in the corner of, and they have a TV because Sirius learned how to get them to work in a magical environment from his lawyer. He’s yet to get it to work, muttering under his breath as he taps the television with his wand.“Are you sure this will work?” Harry asks skeptically when nothing happens.Sirius taps the TV a little more aggressively and suddenly they’re watching the news. “Ha, see?” he says, looking very smug that he got it to work after all.“Good job,” Harry grins teasingly, getting up to start on dinner.

Harry’s eighteenth birthday approaches fast. He celebrates it with his friends the day before, so happy that he’s able to invite them over properly now. Even after the war, Grimmauld Place wasn’t exactly a very welcoming house, especially not to those who weren’t already used to it. The party doubles as a housewarming party as well and there’s a growing pile of gifts on the dining table.The day itself he spends with Sirius, mostly enjoying the sun outside. They visit the local park, get themselves a large ice cream from the truck nearby. They have a long lunch at one of the few restaurants in town and then they take a bus around town just to see more of where they live. They go home late in the afternoon and Sirius cooks them something simple for dinner because he’s not very good at it but refuses to let Harry in the kitchen today.Harry isn’t expecting anything as a gift, because to him, spending the day together like this is already more than enough to him, a gift in and of itself. Sirius has other plans, however, taking his wallet out after dinner and handing Harry a series of business cards.They’re all for driving instructors.“Whenever you’re ready, I’ll pay for your lessons and everything else that you’ll require to get your licence,” Sirius says with a warm smile. “I want you to be able to get around in the Muggle world as well, though I’d rather not see you ride a bike.”Harry sticks out his tongue. “Hypocrite,” he grins. “Thank you, Sirius.”To be fair, he’s not interested in riding a bike himself. He’ll gladly sit behind Sirius, arms wrapped around his waist as they speed through the countryside, trusting his godfather and the magic on the motorcycle not to crash them. On his own, however, he’s too afraid that he’ll end up wrapped around a tree or something. A car sounds like a much safer option.To make up for not having had anything to do with the preparation of the lasagne, Harry does the dishes, another great excuse to use magic. They veg out on the sofa for a few hours afterward, huddled together in the corner of the sofa and watching random television programs. Sirius is in control of the remote, which is annoying at times because he switches channels before Harry gets a proper idea of what the program even was about.Around eleven, Sirius lightly slaps Harry’s upper leg and squeezes gently before getting up and grabbing two bottles of Blishen’s Firewhisky from the cupboard. He returns and sits down cross-legged next to Harry, opening one bottle and taking a large swig, not even bothering with glasses. “Fuck,” he coughs afterward, shaking his head and looking at the label. “Good shit. To your birthday, baby,” he says, handing the bottle to Harry.That’s when Harry’s memories start getting fuzzier and fuzzier until at some point the only thing he has left of the night is blank space and white noise.

He dreams of an old book, of missing pages.He dreams of holding hands, of a golden band wrapped around their wrists.He dreams of a kiss, of chapped lips smiling against his.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.