Our teenage nyra le fay and Sirius Black
The Room of Requirement greeted them like an old friend, its heavy oak doors sliding open to reveal a space bathed in golden candlelight. A roaring fire danced in a grand hearth, and a vast four-poster bed lay in the center, its emerald and silver sheets shimmering invitingly.
Sirius didn't waste a second. His hand was already tangled in Nyra's hair, pulling her into a deep kiss, making her gasp as her back hit the soft mattress.
"Merlin, Starling," he murmured against her lips, voice roughened with need, "you drive me mad."
Nyra's laugh — low, mischievous — vibrated against him. Her fingers slipped beneath his shirt, skimming over the tattoos inked into his skin. The Room had even anticipated that detail; Sirius's magical tattoos shimmered faintly, black runes twisting like whispers across his side.
Clothes were stripped away between frantic kisses, moans muffled against bare skin, hands everywhere — greedy, desperate, familiar.
Their bodies moved together with an urgency that only grew sharper with each touch, each groan. Nyra's hair — that beautiful silvered white-blonde that Draco would one day inherit — spread like a halo on the sheets, her green eyes glittering fiercely under him.
And then — right in the middle of Sirius grinding against her, right as he nipped at her collarbone — she giggled.
He stilled, eyes narrowing.
"What's so funny, Firefly?" he rasped, using the nickname he only called her when she burned too brightly for him to handle.
Nyra's smile was wicked. Her hand slid down, nails lightly scraping his spine — lower — making Sirius choke on a groan.
"I was just thinking," she said sweetly, fluttering her lashes at him, "what if we named him — or her — Canis Minor?"
Sirius pulled back a fraction, eyebrows climbing into his hairline. "You're starting this conversation now?"
"Why not?" she purred, trailing kisses along his jaw, her fingers skimming dangerously low again.
Sirius dropped his forehead to her shoulder with a strangled groan. "If you keep trying to have name debates during children-making, Firefly, we'll be lucky if the poor kid's born before the bloody Year of Merlin!"
Nyra laughed, absolutely delighted, and bit down gently on the sensitive skin at his shoulder. Sirius jolted, growling low in his throat.
She didn't stop.
As he thrust into her — slow, deep — she kept murmuring ridiculous suggestions against his ear. "Vulpecula. Aquila. Auriga."
Each name was accompanied by her nails digging lightly into his tattooed skin, or a slow drag of her mouth down the side of his throat, or a roll of her hips that made his brain short-circuit.
Sirius's rhythm stuttered. "You're — gods, Firefly — you're evil."
"Mm, you love it," she whispered back smugly.
He couldn't argue with that.
His hands slipped under her thighs, lifting her higher, driving into her with more force now. Their moans echoed in the golden-lit room, the fire crackling in time with their ragged breaths.
Somewhere through the haze, Sirius gritted out, "No. No kid of mine's being named bloody Canis Minor."
Nyra just hummed, wicked and breathless, arching into him.
Their bodies moved harder, faster, lost to the storm they created between them. The teasing gave way to pure instinct — gasps and groans, whispered endearments, his mouth claiming hers, her nails scraping his shoulders, dragging him closer.
Nyra's magic crackled against his, wild and beautiful. She was everything — fire and stars and fierce, stubborn love.
"Siri..." she gasped, shuddering as the first wave of pleasure tore through her.
Sirius followed with a low, broken sound, spilling into her with a final desperate thrust, collapsing against her with a shaky laugh.
For a long moment, they simply breathed, bodies tangled, skin slick with sweat.
Sirius pressed lazy kisses against her shoulder, his hand smoothing along her side, tracing idle patterns.
Nyra twined her fingers through his hair, smiling against his temple. "You know... we still need to pick a real name."
Sirius groaned theatrically, hiding his face in her neck. "Merlin save me."
Nyra laughed softly, her breath warm on his skin. Her fingers wandered playfully down his back, tracing the lines of his magical tattoo. She could feel him tense under her touch, a mixture of pleasure and annoyance flooding him at the constant distraction.
"You're the one who wanted to have this conversation," she teased, her lips brushing against the sensitive spot on his throat. She was doing it on purpose—touching him just enough to drive him wild, but not enough to let him have the pleasure he wanted. He could feel her fingertips trail lower, brushing against the sensitive curve of his lower back, and his entire body shuddered, a sharp breath escaping his chest.
"Firefly," he murmured, his voice strained, "you're impossible."
She smiled against his skin, amused by how easily she could distract him. "Mmm, maybe," she whispered, deliberately pressing her nails lightly against his back, making him jerk slightly. "But you still love me."
Sirius bit back a groan. "If you keep this up, we're never finishing this."
She smirked, her fingers continuing their slow, maddening journey down his spine. "Who said anything about finishing?" she whispered, pressing her lips lightly against his earlobe, her breath hot against the sensitive skin.
"Stop teasing," he rasped, the words barely a whisper. He pulled back slightly, eyes narrowing as his hands gripped her hips, holding her still.
"Make me," she challenged, her voice low and teasing.
Sirius was about to respond when her hand slid lower, dangerously close to his weak point. He groaned in frustration, his patience starting to crack. "Merlin, you're going to be the death of me."
Her lips curved into a devilish grin as she moved her hand just enough to make him forget everything but her touch. "Let's see if you can focus on something other than me for a change," she teased, her voice dripping with mischief.
Sirius let out a low, frustrated laugh, but instead of answering her challenge, he kissed her deeply, capturing her lips in a kiss that was equal parts desperate and tender. He pulled back, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he met her eyes.
"Fine," he muttered, his voice dark with desire. "You want a name? I'll give you one. Draco. That's what we'll call him—our son."
Nyra blinked, taken aback by the sudden seriousness in his tone. "Draco?" She raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. "Is that supposed to be some kind of legacy thing?"
Sirius ran a hand through his hair, sighing in exasperation. "It's a Black family name. One of honor. Even if I hate the family." His eyes softened as he looked at her. "A name with meaning. Strength."
Her smile softened at the mention of strength, the words laced with a deep affection for the man who had been her protector, her lover, and now—potentially—her child's father.
"Strength, huh?" she said quietly, her eyes glinting mischievously. "I like it... but what about the girl?"
Sirius tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly as a wicked grin spread across his face. "For a girl? How about Lyra?" he said, his voice gentle, almost reverent. "After the stars. After you. You're my starling. My firefly. Lyra sounds right for her."
Nyra felt her heart skip a beat at the soft tenderness in his voice, but she quickly smothered the feeling with another teasing grin. "Oh, that's sweet. You know, I had a thought. If you keep talking about stars and constellations, we might end up naming our child after something like Ursa Major. Or even worse... Andromeda."
Sirius barked out a laugh, the tension between them lightening. "I wouldn't mind calling our child Ursa Major," he teased, his fingers brushing along her waist in a soft caress. "I mean, it sounds powerful, don't you think?"
Nyra snorted, biting her lip to stop herself from laughing. "Oh, definitely. Our son will be the star of the show—literally."
Sirius's grin widened, his hands slipping back to her sides, his voice lowering into a seductive murmur. "You keep distracting me with these ridiculous names, and we'll have a baby born in the year of Merlin."
Nyra chuckled softly, her hands roaming back to the places that always made him shiver. "Well, you know, it's not my fault you keep bringing up constellations. If you wanted to focus, maybe you should stop talking about Andromedas and Lyra and just let me have some fun."
Sirius groaned and kissed her again, his hands tightening on her hips as he pulled her closer. The teasing had come to an end, at least for the moment.
--
The night wore on, and their bodies moved in perfect rhythm again. The second round was filled with more than just passion—there were moments of laughter, of tender touches, of playfulness that only they could share.
Sirius couldn't help but tease as he pressed her into the sheets, his breath coming faster with each touch. "What about the color of the cutlery? You know... when we get married. It's important, right? The cutlery needs to match the mood."
Nyra barely had the energy to respond, her body shivering under his touch, her focus split between his constant teasing and the pleasure he was giving her. "I... don't... know," she managed to mutter, half-laughing, half-moaning. "Maybe silver? Or gold?"
He grinned, as though thoroughly enjoying this new game of theirs. "Gold is so last season. Silver sounds better, don't you think?"
She could only hum in response, her head thrown back in pleasure as he worked his magic, each kiss, each caress sending her further into a world of bliss. She had no idea how they had ended up discussing table settings in the middle of all this, but somehow, Sirius always found a way to make everything about him.
--
Hours later, they lay in the aftermath, their bodies entwined beneath the sheets. Nyra's breath was shallow, her heart still racing as she turned her head to look at Sirius.
"What do you think they'll look like?" she murmured softly. "Our son... our daughter."
Sirius rolled onto his side, his gaze soft as he took in her features. "Well, he'll have your hair, no doubt. My grey eyes. Your fierce spirit. And he'll definitely have your chin. We can't let him have black hair and green eyes you know, someone may mistake him for lily evans and James child, that would be horrific, our child will be unique"," he said, tracing the sharp line of her jaw with his finger. "But I hope he inherits my mischief. And maybe his mother's ability to make me lose my mind with her ridiculous ideas."
Nyra smiled, her fingers lightly touching her stomach as though she could already feel the child within her. "I imagine... if Merlin's really helping us, he'll have your pranks, your humor. And maybe a little bit of my cunning." Her voice faltered slightly. "And maybe his father's loyalty. But let's hope he doesn't inherit everything from you, Sirius."
Sirius chuckled softly, his fingers brushing against the new Black family ring on her finger, which she hadn't noticed until now. He kissed her forehead gently. "If he inherits my stupidity, you can blame me. But when it comes to that, we'll tell him how his idiotic father proposed to you, won't we?"
She raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a wry smile. "Oh, I'll definitely tell him. And I'll make sure he never makes the same mistakes as you."
"Tell him what?" he teased, pressing his lips against hers with a soft chuckle.
Nyra let out a satisfied sigh, resting her head against his chest, the ring now gleaming softly in the dim light. "I'll tell him exactly how you ruined your own proposal. And how, despite it all, I still ended up loving you."
Sirius smiled down at her, a contentment in his heart that hadn't been there before. "Well, that's all I need to know. We're doing it right, Starling. Even if our names are ridiculous."
She rolled her eyes, but her smile softened as she snuggled closer to him, already imagining the child they would raise together.
"Yes, Firefly," she whispered. "Even if our names are ridiculous."
For a long moment, they lay in silence, wrapped in the heavy, golden hush that only the deepest kind of happiness could weave.
Sirius's hand idly played with a strand of her hair, silver in the low light, and he murmured, half-asleep, "You and me, Starling. Always."
Nyra closed her eyes, letting the words settle into her bones like a lullaby. Somewhere, deep in her chest, a small pang echoed — a fleeting, inexplicable ache she couldn't name. She brushed it away, pressing a kiss to his skin.
Sirius shifted, tightening his arms around her, as if afraid the world might try to take her away.
His voice, rough with sleep and something older than fear, whispered into the crown of her head, "I don't care who stands against us — family, Dark Lords, the whole bloody world. They'll have to go through me first. Through us."
Nyra smiled against his chest, her heart swelling until it almost hurt.
She raised her head slightly, emerald-green eyes locking onto his grey ones, fierce and blazing and untamed. "And if they ever try," she whispered, "they'll have to face me too. I'll burn down anything that tries to take you or our child away."
Sirius's throat worked as he swallowed thickly, emotion flashing across his features — pride, love, something primal. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, murmuring, "Firefly," so softly it was almost a prayer.
Then, as if the weight of everything suddenly crashed into them at once —
the ring on her finger, the future they'd recklessly carved without a second thought,
the ridiculousness of two teenagers lying naked and engaged in a secret Room of Hogwarts —
Nyra gave a sudden laugh, bright and breathless against his skin.
Sirius chuckled too, the sound rolling out of him helpless and warm, like a dam breaking. He tipped his forehead against hers, still grinning, "What the hell are we doing, Starling? We haven't even graduated yet!"
Nyra giggled, playful now, teasing. "Apparently, letting you propose in the most ridiculous way possible," she said sweetly, tapping the ring on her finger. "Really, Sirius. During that?"
He groaned, dramatic and embarrassed, hiding his face against her shoulder. "I panicked, alright? You were distracting — bloody hell, you're always distracting."
"Excuses," she sang, grinning wickedly.
"What you make me do, Nyra," Sirius muttered into her skin, but his arms only pulled her tighter, as if he'd never let go.
"I must be bloody mental," he grumbled, dragging her half on top of him. "Madly in love with a stubborn, fiery Slytherin who hijacks our child-making sessions to talk about names, and somehow made me propose before we even pass our NEWTs."
Nyra smirked, tracing a slow, lazy finger down his chest. "You wouldn't survive a day without me, Sirius Black."
He caught her hand and pressed a reverent kiss to her knuckles. "No," he said simply, meeting her gaze without flinching. "I wouldn't."
Neither of them said it, but both of them knew:
there was no life without the other now.
No future without this chaotic, wild, and fiercely loved family they were already weaving, stitch by stubborn stitch.
The future was uncertain. Dangerous.
But here, wrapped in each other's arms, tangled in dreams and foolish hope,
they were untouchable.
At least for tonight.
The Room of Requirement, ever-sensitive to the hearts inside it, shifted quietly around them.
The walls, once draped in rich dark greens and silvers, softened to a muted, golden warmth.
Candles floated lazily above, their flames gentle, casting halos of light over the young couple tangled in each other.
The bed beneath them, summoned by careless, laughing magic earlier, now seemed sturdier, more permanent — as if the castle itself recognized the gravity of what had just happened.
A quiet hum — almost like a sigh — passed through the stones.
It was as if the room was blessing them.
Blessing the mad, reckless vow made between two souls not even out of school, yet bound tighter than most who had seen a lifetime.
Nyra stirred against him, her lashes fluttering, the new weight of the Black family ring glinting faintly on her finger.
She didn't notice the faint shimmer of magic around them — but Sirius did.
He tightened his hold around her, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead, his chest aching with a feeling too big for words.
"The castle knows," he whispered, half to himself.
"Knows what?" Nyra mumbled sleepily against his skin.
"That we're not just stupid kids anymore," he said, his voice rough, filled with something older than their years. "We're building something real, Starling."
Nyra smiled, too tired to reply, but her heart thrummed in answer.
Above them, one of the candles flared brighter for a moment before settling again — like a heartbeat.
Somewhere deep inside the castle, an ancient kind of magic — older than the founders themselves — curled around their bond, taking root in the stone, weaving itself into the walls of Hogwarts.
Their love.
Their defiance.
Their reckless, impossible hope.
It would not be forgotten.