#he said give me looks and trauma of sirius | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fruitcoops · 2 years

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Hi Eve! Can I request a fic where Remus is hurt on the ice and in a lot of pain, and really depends on Sirius comforting him. Maybe he goes to the Hospital and is really frightened by it. Basically something where Remus is extremely hurt (physically and emotionally) and Sirius comforts him a lot. If you feel like it! I know you're writing a lot of H/C and Angst rn. I love your writing!

Oh we're doing CHONKY angst tonight, my friends. Also, I'm super close to my fic goal, so requests will be opening back up again soon! I won't give a specific date because I don't want to give anyone false hope, so thank you all for being patient. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

**TW for injury (dislocation), mentioned past injury/ trauma, implied PTSD, panic/ dissociation response, hospitals

Time stood still. It was a cheesy, cliché thought—Sirius knew that much. But time stood still, and lots of people were moving erratically, and he had the sudden realization he couldn’t feel his toes in his skates anymore. He knew he should move. He knew he needed to move. He knew he could feel every vein and artery in his body seizing, every muscle fossilizing.

“—fucking Christ—”

“I’m gonna—”

“—god, look—”

“—happening? What’s happ—”

“Stay there!” Sirius flinched at the sharp order from James’ mouth, somewhere on the other side of the bench. Medics were gathering like clotted blood on a wound; he could only see black skates, the red accents stark against the ice while their owner thrashed once, twice, and went still again.

His tongue unstuck from the roof of his mouth. He managed one step. James’ hand settled on his chest, but he pushed right past it without breaking stride. The crowd was deafening in its silence. He could see Remus’ legs now, one bent and tipping to the side. The medics shuttered his body and face from view, but Sirius was six-foot-six in his skates. That wouldn’t be a problem.

“—touch me!” The sudden burst of noise amongst a sea of muttering voices made him blink in surprise. “Don’t touch me, don’t touch me!”

Remus wasn’t supposed to sound like that. He wasn’t supposed to look like that when Sirius came closer, tense and laid out and failing every time his muscles tried to contort in agony, ghost-white save for the blotchy red on his cheeks. His right hand gripped the wrist of a medic so tight it trembled. “Mr. Lupin,” Emmeline cut in. “Remus, let go.”

“Keep your hands off,” he said through clenched teeth.

Sirius took a knee, shouldering between two of the medics despite their protests. Even a meter away, he could see how far Remus’ pupils had dilated. “Loops,” he began. The few people that tried to pull him away would have had better luck moving a boulder barehanded. Sirius found Remus’ terrified eyes against the too-bright glare of the rink and his throat tightened, suffocating any words.

The unadulterated panic faded somewhat—Remus’ lower lip trembled, a single tear rolling down the slope of his nose as he held Sirius’ gaze. “Sirius.” He sucked in a half-breath and hitched with the strain. “Sirius, don’t fucking touch me.”

“I won’t.”

Remus visibly relaxed when he held both hands up, only for his entire face to screw up in pain at the movement. A groan siphoned through his ticking jaw, strangled and barely contained.

“Mr. Lupin, you need to let us get you on a stretcher,” Emmeline said firmly, as if they had had this conversation before. “We have to get you off the ice.”

“Can’t move.”

“We’ll help—”

“Gonna tear it apart.” Remus’ eyes unfocused, and Sirius quite literally watched the blood drain from his face as his hand slipped off the other medic’s wrist and hit the ice with a dull sound. His mouth refused to offer the comfort rattling through his mind. “Don’t understand, I have pins there, gonna tear the muscle.”

Emmeline’s lips pressed into a thin, pale line. “Fuck,” she muttered, tucking Remus’ forearms against his chest; this time, he didn’t so much as twitch. She grabbed the walkie-talkie off her belt, moving to a crouch. “Get him on the stretcher. Hi, this is Emmeline Vance, I have a player with a partially dislocated shoulder who is going into psychological shock. We’re 60 seconds from the ambulance.”

By the time Sirius was able to force some air into his lungs, everyone else was already in motion, and he was being pushed aside. “I can’t do it.” Remus’ voice was too strained, too high. His gaze darted randomly from Sirius to the rink and back again. “Can’t do it again, I can’t do this.”

“Just keep breathing, Remus,” Emmeline said. “That’s all I need from you.”

“I can…” Sirius faltered as they shuffled Remus onto the stretcher. He had gone from white to gray in a matter of moments. His left arm looked wrong where it laid limp against him. “I can help?”

“Go back to the bench, captain,” an unfamiliar medic said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Your coach will pass along the hospital address.”

Sirius shook his head. It was too hard to swallow. “No.”

“Sir—”

“He’s my husband.”

“I understand, but the ambulance is already—”

“That’s my husband.” Control. Calm. Steady. Remus’ voice never shook when he asked for things, never raised by a single decibel. Sirius took a breath in through his nose, out through his mouth. “My husband is on that stretcher. I need to be with him right now.”

“That’s not a matter to discuss with me.” The medic stood and helped him to his feet with a kind smile. “Talk to your coach. We’ll take good care of Mr. Lupin.”

No, you won’t. He knew he should trust them—it was their job. It was what Remus had done for years, and Remus had never failed them. But Sirius couldn’t help the knee-jerk protest that tried to claw its way out into the cold air where the voices of the crowd were starting to rise. It was Remus’ job to heal. It was his job to play. These people…he didn’t know these people. More importantly, they didn’t know Remus. They didn’t know that he couldn’t be touched after a nightmare and they didn’t know how good he was at hiding pain in smiles and they didn’t know he could only be lulled back into rest with a kiss, a snuggle, some tea.

But Remus was already gone, and Sirius belonged on the bench.

“I’m here for Remus Lupin.”

“Relation?”

“Husband. How is he?”

“Asleep, as of…five minutes ago.”

“And his shoulder?”

“I’m afraid I can’t share personal medical information, sir.”

Sirius hoped the nurse couldn’t hear his pulse hammering across the desk. “Alright. Where’s his room?”

“He’s in 430. The elevator is on your left.”

“Merci beaucoup.” God bless Celeste for teaching him proper manners, because an ‘afterthought’ wasn’t even the right word for how little he cared about thanking people at the moment. Remus liked to tease him for his ‘lack of tact’, whatever that was supposed to mean. Bluntness had always worked fine in the past, even if it meant people liked his husband more than him. It wasn’t Sirius’ fault he had grown used to using his captain voice in daily life.

The elevator lurched to life after a few impatient clicks of the button; it stopped once, on the second floor, and Sirius tried not to scowl too hard at the perfectly nice couple that decided to wait for the next one. His legs stopped working when the elevator doors opened.

A cheerful golden ‘4’ shone on the opposite wall—he forced himself forward, only to stop again as the doors closed behind him. The floor was as busy as any hospital he had visited, full of families and bustling staff in equal shares. The nearest door read ‘403’.

Sirius started walking.

The linoleum squeaked under his sneakers with each measured step, background music for his racing thoughts. Would Remus still be asleep? Was his injury worse than they thought? Sirius hadn’t been able to leave early—hadn’t wanted to, not when they couldn’t promise he would be able to see Remus right away—and he didn’t have the first clue what made psychological shock different than regular shock. He had seen enough shitty medical dramas on Saturday nights to know people died from it. Suddenly, Remus’ penchant for pointing out their inaccuracies like it was a game show wasn’t so funny.

430.

He peeked through the little window with one hand on the doorknob and felt his heart stutter, a breath rushing free. Remus was still asleep, just as the nurse had promised. The bed was propped up; his left arm rested in a sling. Someone had tucked the crisp white blankets around his waist. Sirius opened the door and crept in, closing it quietly behind him before he moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

Remus’ breaths came in the same slow, even pattern he knew like his own pulse, so vastly different than the shallow things that had wracked him four hours prior. He looked better than Sirius had left him: there was healthy color in his cheeks and no tension sending agony though his body. He traced the places pain used to pinch with a gentle hand.

Beneath his touch, Remus stirred. He blinked a few times, bleary and befuddled, before his expression relaxed into a small smile and his cheek pressed into Sirius’ palm. “How long’ve you been there?”

“About five minutes,” Sirius murmured. They had the room to themselves, but it didn’t feel right to speak louder. He scratched along the shorter hair over Remus’ ear and felt him hum. “Feeling better?”

Remus nodded, keeping his eyes closed. “Got the good stuff.”

“Sleepy?”

“Mhmm. Love how you talk.”

“Me?” he laughed.

“It’s always you.”

Sirius stroked beneath Remus’ eye with the pad of his thumb. His skin was impossibly soft and delicate for someone so unbreakable. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here before.”

“Didn’t miss anything big.”

“Still.” He swallowed as the lump from earlier tried to surge back to life in his throat. “Still, I want to be here for you. It’s my job to take care of you, now.”

“How the turntables,” Remus muttered, drawing a laugh from both of them.

With a long exhale, he let his head rest back against the crinkly pillow, and Sirius went willingly when Remus opened an arm for him to cuddle under. The hospital gown was rough when he smoothed a hand over Remus’ chest, tracing the bandages beneath. “Qu’est-ce que c’est?” Sirius asked, giving the lowest ridge a small tug.

Remus cracked an eye open and followed his movement. “Oh, it’s just some extra support. Goes up an’ around.”

“No broken ribs?”

“I can’t be stealing your brand that quick.”

“Don’t joke about that,” Sirius protested despite Remus’ quiet snickering. “It’s not funny, Re.”

“ ‘m sorry.” He took a couple deep breaths, then turned to Sirius with a bitten-back smile. “It’s a little funny.”

“No.”

His face softened, and with a little bit of wiggling he pulled his arm free from under Sirius’ body and placed his fingertips over his cheekbone like a pianist preparing to play. A delicate touch as always; sometimes, Sirius wondered whether Remus thought he was made of glass. Nobody had treated him that carefully before. It wasn’t a bad thought at all. Remus kept them there for a long moment, watching with half-lidded eyes. His whole body radiated exhaustion. “Today was a bad day,” he finally said. The corner of his mouth tilted up softly. “You’re so handsome.”

“Are you feeling better?”

This time, Remus paused before answering. He paused, and he sighed, and he curled into Sirius’ chest until Sirius draped an arm over his stomach and laced their fingers together. “I dunno,” he whispered. “It was—bad. They put me under to relocate it, ‘cause I couldn’t calm down. They told me I went into shock, but I don’t remember that part. I still feel like shit.”

“I would be worried if you didn’t.” But I hate that you do. Sirius closed the inch between them and kissed Remus’ cheek, letting his lips linger on salty skin. Remus had been crying a little when they took him away. He didn’t want to know if it kept happening while he was sitting on a stainless steel bench outlining plays for other people to run.

“It was only a partial dislocation,” Remus noted after a few moments of quiet. Something in his gaze was still a little vacant. “So, y’know. There’s that. The pins work after all.”

Sirius gathered him closer, slipping one arm under Remus’ upper back so he could rest his head on Sirius’ chest. Their ankles tangled under the papery sheets, legs in a cat’s cradle. “We don’t have to talk about it,” he said into mussed curls. A tremor went through Remus, and he heard him sniffle.

“Fuck, sorry,” Remus choked out, going to pinch the bridge of his nose only to muffle a groan when the sling refused to let his arm move that far. Sirius guided his hand back down and wiped the few stray tears away with his thumb—his other hand splayed over Remus’ lower back, just holding. He could be an anchor right now.

“Don’t be sorry,” he murmured.

“I really couldn’t do it again, Sirius.” His voice was thick. Haunted. “I couldn’t. It almost killed me before, I swear to god.”

The air punched from Sirius’ lungs. He knew, he did, they had both struggled, but—“Don’t, loup. Don’t put yourself in that place right now.”

“I felt it give,” he said brokenly. “After everything I did, it just went and people were all over me.”

There was nothing good enough to say. Sirius didn’t truly understand, he never could. He had accepted that a long time ago in the same way Remus had to accept that he would never understand why Sirius was equally happy and grieving every time they spent time with the Lupins. And while he knew how to bring Remus down from the paralyzing fear that came with whatever trauma Fenrir Greyback had wrought, the rest of the world was still in the dark. There was no possible way to lead emergency medics through it without exposing everything.

So he let his fingers curl around the bandages stabilizing Remus’ shoulder and kept him close, pressing his forehead to a warm temple and holding his hand while Remus’ teeth chattered with the force of whatever needed to be let out. “Mon amour,” he said, lips brushing the peak of Remus’ cheekbone. “Mon coeur, mon loup, mon chou.”

“It was like I wasn’t even there anymore.”

“Je sais.” That much, Sirius could understand.

“My body was there but the rest of me…and it was taken.”

“It was.”

“The pins—it would have gone all the way without them.”

“And it will be better now.”

Remus sniffed, his face pressed so tight to Sirius’ chest that he could feel the damp spot forming on his shirt. “Do you promise?” he asked at last.

It was a ridiculous thing to promise a professional hockey player who regularly got body-slammed and entirely out of Sirius’ control. “Yes.”

Remus shivered, pulling his legs up tighter to Sirius’ thighs. “For real?”

There were tears in his voice again, but Sirius would rather they stain his shirt than the fabric of a stretcher or some plain hospital pillow. He would sign the discharge paperwork when Remus was good and ready to move, and not a second before. “I promise,” he repeated.

“Okay.” A shaky breath was cold on his torso. “Okay. Christ, I’m so fuckin’ tired.”

Sirius rubbed his back for another minute, pressing the occasional kiss to his hair or the side of his face. He managed a glance at his watch for the first time since arriving and was a little surprised to see the late hour blinking back at him. “Do you want to nap here, or should we go home?” he asked quietly.

But Remus was already asleep, clutching him just as close as waking hours.

#sirius black #remus lupin #coops #james potter #emmeline #sweater weather #vaincre #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #hurt/ comfort #angst #hospitals #injury #emotional whump #cuddling

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nodirectionhome-ao3 · 8 months

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director’s cut on that moment during sirius’ trial where harry straight up flies into his arms 🥺 sorry I don’t think about anything except that man and I love how you write him 😘😘😘

Thank you so much!!! And there's no need to be sorry — Sirius Black lives in my head rent free always so I feel you on that🥰🥰

Answer under the cut because of Chapter 17 spoilers! (And fair warning, this is going to be very long because I have A LOT to say about this😂)

The word that I keep coming back to over and over again in this story when it comes to Harry is hope. It's a word that shows up a lot in Chapter 2 (16 times to be exact). Just a few of the most relevant examples:

When he's a first year and Dumbledore assures him Lily will wake up someday:

He would try to have hope. If that’s what it took to bring his mother back…to get him away from the Dursleys…he would be the most hopeful boy in the world.

2. When he's twelve and visits her for the second time in St. Mungo's and she's still not waking:

But hope had always been a difficult thing for Harry. What, to a child locked away in a cupboard, was hope?

3. When he learns the truth about Sirius, bonds with his godfather for the first time, and is told that he might be able to live with him:

“Of course I mean it,” he said at last. “Once my name is cleared…I’d love for you to live with me. Until your mum wakes up, that is…” Something flickered inside of Harry. Hope, he realized…that long forgotten feeling. He smiled at his godfather, and his godfather smiled back.

4. When Pettigrew escapes and Sirius has to leave, and Harry is left alone again and without the father figure he'd only just discovered:

It took meeting his childhood friends and watching them slip away for Harry to fully realize how much he wanted his father back. But there was no hope for that. There never was.

All of this is to say that Harry, by the time Chapter 17 rolls around, has spent the majority of his life getting his hopes crushed over and over again. The fleeting hope he feels at being told that his mother is alive becomes more and more painful every year that she doesn't wake up to the point where it becomes so agonizing for him to let himself believe that something good might happen to him, for fear of it being ripped away.

When Lily wakes up, Harry's first reaction is to doubt it, to think it's some sort of cruel joke. Because that false hope is too painful. But Sirius is quick to reassure him that it's true, giving Harry the assurance he needs that he would never joke about that (because Sirius gets it). And then it's only when Sirius assures him that it's real that Harry is able to let his guard down and meet Lily.

Harry’s throat still felt very tight. He forced himself to look up at Sirius. “This is real?” he whispered. “This is real,” Sirius confirmed.

And then, even after something as momentous as Lily waking up has happened, Harry continues to struggle with the idea of moving in with her and always having her around, because it all just feels too good to be true and good things, for him, never seem to last. Sirius is the one who understands that better than anyone. He calms Harry down by opening up to Harry about his own trauma — talking to him about how difficult it was for him as a teen to let himself believe that Fleamont and Euphemia would never get tired of him and send him away.

“I think you’re like me, Harry,” Sirius said very softly. “Am I right?”

And once he's established that connection, he continues to show how much he understands Harry by giving him the reassurance that he knows he needs.

“I know your mother very well,” Sirius said intently. “And I promise you, on my life — there is nothing, nothing, that you could ever do or say that would make her love you any less. She’s never going to leave you. And neither will I.”

Alright, so cut to Chapter 17: when Harry watches Lily tell Sirius that she's spoken to Amelia about getting him a trial — Sirius lashes out at her. Lily assumes he's being stubborn, but Harry knows better because Harry has been there. He knows and understands what Sirius has gone through and he knows better than anyone that Sirius, like him, is afraid of getting his hopes up. Because that has rarely brought Sirius anything but pain either.

So, in what I consider to be a very important moment for all three of them, Harry stands up to Lily, defending Sirius:

“Sirius isn’t being stubborn. He’s just…scared. He doesn’t want to go back to Azkaban.”

When the trial happens and Sirius is exonerated, Harry is overcome with happiness, not just because the man he loves like a father has finally been freed, but because hope has prevailed for both of them. In the face of everything they've both endured, there's this shining moment where something unquestionably good has happened to them. Their mutual hope has been allowed to soar instead of being crushed, and Harry can't contain his joy at the realization.

Sirius is one of Harry's strongest, most unwavering sources of hope and comfort. And vice versa. So to me, the hug scene is a celebration of that :)

#kindly stopped for me #chapter 17 #sirius and harry #sirius is the best godfather ever and i will shout that from the rooftops #and harry is an amazing godson to his godfather #ksfm director's commentary

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moonlightdancer26 · 7 months

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(tw bullying) Sometimes I go to the anti-snape tag bc I want some variety in opinions, and I don't really have an issue with people disliking Snape...he's not a nice person.

But then I get a post that's like 'Snape deserved to be bullied' and all the variants and it's just...look, "Snape was and awful person" and "Snape didn't deserve to be bullied" are not mutually exclusive. And just bc Snape was a lousy nasty teacher as an adult doesn't mean he was that way as a kid.

I think it's just a specific minority that thinks this stuff*, and granted, there is a very strong slant in HP that leans towards the Marauders* but it just kills any desire I have to read further, even if I block whoever said it.

*(for the sake of the post and all new readers, I'll give the summarized version: Almost every time we hear about something the Marauders do to Snape, we quickly get the Marauder's 'Snape did something to deserve it' POV. Plus we're inclined to like the nicer Marauders vs the nasty teacher Snape).

*I'm trying not to generalize all marauders fans/anti snape people for a variety of reasons.

I completely agree. Despite how headstrong I seem to be about my opinions (which I am), I genuinely am so interested in hearing other people’s opinions and trying to look at the text from their perspectives and interpretations. 😭 I feel like my followers have no idea how balanced I can be during arguments bc y’all mostly just see me focusing on the negative aspects of the characters I hate (because to me, that overshadows the positive aspects of their character). For each character I hate, there’s almost always a long process of how I came to hate them, watching/reading the entirety of the show/movie(s)/book(s), forming an opinion about the character throughout the series, reading other people’s analyses of said character and how they interpreted certain things the character did, finally concluding whether I love/hate/dislike/get irritated by/etc this character, and then try to build a balanced take on them for later discussions.

Sorry that got long 😭 I just wanted to explain to y’all that I really love meeting people who have different/more neutral opinions than I do so I can learn about them 💀 anyway-

Like I said, I agree with you, I enjoy reading a variety of mixed opinions and seeing other people’s perceptions of a character I feel strongly about (be it positive or negative). But I seriously hate when Snaters always dramatise their hatred (emphasis on always, bc sure I can be dramatic too BUT AT LEAST I ACTUALLY ANALYSE SCENES AND EXPLAIN WHY SAID CHARACTER SUCKS) and over-exaggerate every single thing he does, they always make it hard to be civil and calm when reading their posts 😭 And when they call him Snivellus, make childish and hurtful jokes about his appearance, and try to actually JUSTIFY all the trauma he went through? That’s a no-no. I may hate a lot of characters, but I would never actively try to justify what they went through (throwback to that one Snape fan who tried to say Sirius wasn’t abused and was just mistreated 🤢 so gross and disrespectful) nor would I pretend that it doesn’t play a part in how the character turned out later on. Snaters fail to realise that “this character was abused” and “this character is a shitty person/a bully” can coexist, they hardly even register that his being abused at childhood was most definitely a contributing factor in how he turned out as an adult (which even the simplest of minds can realise).

*I'm trying not to generalize all marauders fans/anti snape people for a variety of reasons.

Lol it’s okay anon, your clarification isn’t necessary. I think we all know that not everyone from the Marauders fandom acts like that. Usually, if one were to look at your ask and think “ok but not all of us!! you’re generalising! *starts attacking us*”, then that would be a pretty tell-tale sign of low intelligence. 💀

Thanks for the ask, love! Have a great day.

#anti snaters #severus snape #pro snape #pro severus snape #snape #harry potter #hp #ask #asks

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onehundredflamingos · 8 months

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“Siblings” for @theadultfandomproject back to Hogwarts train / 1408 words

Sirius didn’t really know what to do other than wander the castle, the weight of betrayal still heavy on his heart, even after weeks of feeling it.

It seemed like everyone wanted a piece of Regulus: Remus for his brainpower, Peter for his chess skills, and James for whatever the fuck he wanted Regulus for.

It made him sick.

Didn’t they all see what a horrible person he was? What manipulative, disrespectful trash he was? Raised to be a double of Walburga — cold and calculating.

“Oi, Regulus!” Sirius called when he finally spotted his younger brother across the hall. He’d had enough of his own silence regarding Regulus. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Regulus' eyes went wide at being acknowledged by Sirius at all, but he instantly regained his composure, schooling his expression once more.

Back to the blank face and dead gray eyes their mother gave him.

“What am I doing, Sirius?” Regulus asked, deadpan. “Enlighten me.”

Sirius sputtered for a moment, unsure what to say. Stop being so smart and so good at chess?

“You — you’re tricking my friends,” he finally got out.

Regulus laughed at that. A maniacal sound, laced with malice. “I’m not tricking anyone. Perhaps you’ve just overstayed your welcome with them,” Regulus spat.

Regulus was always so collected, so stoic when Sirius was so wild and recalcitrant and it made Sirius fume. He wanted to see Regulus angry — wanted to see him come undone.

“Fuck you,” he spat back.

Sirius wondered idly if he could convince him to cheat on James, to make himself so clearly worthless to the rest of the marauders that they would finally come to their senses.

If only that wouldn’t hurt James also.

“Get over yourself, Sirius,” Regulus chided. “Not everything is about you.” He gazed back at Sirius for another split second, eyes cold and dark, before turning on his heel and heading back down to the dungeons.

****

Where Sirius got off on telling Regulus what to do was beyond him. Maybe if Sirius was a better big brother — more active and encouraging, none of this would be such an issue.

So what if Regulus got on with Remus? Shouldn’t Sirius be grateful that the two of them had found a study partner in each other? Rather than someone who might be using them — using Remus, studying only a cover while they try to get into his pants in the dark alcoves of the library?

Regulus was even less deserving of scrutiny and animosity when it came to James, because the entire thing had been James’ idea in the first place. James had been pursuing Regulus for months — years, maybe — with his constant heated gazes across the great hall, soft touches every time they crossed paths in the corridors. Eventually, Regulus found himself looking for James everywhere he went, until eventually they were hiding out in broom cupboards, snogging until their knees went weak.

Regulus had no use for Sirius’ friends, but rather for the boy who made his heart flutter and the boy who challenged him academically.

Surely Sirius could see that.

If he couldn’t, that was because he wasn’t a good brother. He was too caught up in family feuds and parental trauma to see that Regulus had grown, had distanced himself from Walburga just the same as he had.

“Where are you, babe?” James said, pulling Regulus out of his rumination. “You’ve been somewhere else the entire time you’ve been here.” James ran a finger down the curve of Regulus’ jaw, making him shudder, bringing him back to the present.

Regulus ran a hand through his hair. “It’s just… Sirius,” he said simply, turning to face James as they both sat on the edge of his bed in the Gryffindor dorm room.

“Is he still giving you a hard time about studying with Remus?” James asked. “I thought he’d be over that by now.”

Regulus sighed. “It’s all of it. You too.”

“Me?” James exclaimed, indignant. “He said — I thought he was okay with it, so long as I was happy and all that.”

“He wants you to be happy,” Regulus explained. “Not me. I don’t deserve you, James, and he knows.”

James grumbled, something protesting yet nearly inaudible. “We’ve talked about this, Reg.” James pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “You’re not the person your mother made you into. Neither is Sirius. If he can be a prick about how he’s better than that family, then he needs to accept the fact that you’re also better than them.”

Regulus shook his head. “There’s no point, I won’t be able to —,”

“What the fuck is he doing in our dorm?” Sirius asked, suddenly standing in the doorway. He looked furious, and Regulus immediately began warring with himself. He hates being complacent when it came to Sirius; he wanted to fight and make Sirius feel small the way he always did, but he couldn’t behave that way now — not in front of James.

“Sirius…” Remus tried from beside him, but Sirius wasn’t listening, only glaring at Regulus from across the room.

“I’ll go, James,” Regulus whispered to James, making to stand up. They would be able to get together again later in the day, if James wanted to, but he couldn’t sit here biting his tongue for much longer.

“No,” James replied softly, tugging Regulus back onto his bed by his arm. “You need to stop this, Sirius,” James said, directing his attention to his best friend now. “I’m not going to let Regulus slip through my fingers just because you want to be an arsehole and ignore what’s right in front of you.”

“And what is that?” Sirius spat. “A manipulative shit who’s somehow got the both of you under his thumb?” He looked from James to Remus and back again, as if either of them thought that was anything but a passive-aggressive rhetorical question.

“You don’t know a single thing about me,” Regulus replied, tongue just as acidic as Sirius’ had been.

“I know that you’re mothers little minion, her snake in this lion's den, and I refuse to stand by and watch you leave my best mates behind every single time you go crawling back to her. You’re a spineless cowa—”

“He’s coming home with me,” James said, cutting off Sirius’ tirade. “He’s moving into my parents’,” he continued, suddenly speaking softly, like if too many people hear him say that it won’t come true.

“Wh-what?” Sirius sputtered.

“McGonagall has been intercepting your parents’ howlers so none of the other slytherins know, but he’s completely cut ties with them already,” James explained. “He’s no longer heir.”

Sirius looked confused, like he didn’t want to believe James, but there was light in his eyes, like if he hadn’t spent his entire life learning to hide his emotions, a smile may have crested is lips just then. Like maybe he was proud of Regulus — happy that he had followed in his footsteps after all.

“Is he serious, Regulus?”

Regulus nodded, trying not to roll his eyes. A large part of him still wanted to lash out, to destroy Sirius for being so immovable in his opinion of his own baby brother, unwilling to listen to anyone’s high praise about him.

Regulus had changed, and his own brother couldn’t see that before, but maybe he would notice now; maybe that would be enough.

“Yeah, Sirius. I’ll live with the Potters until I graduate, and then James and I will get our own place.” James immediately blushed and looked down at his lap.

“James?” Sirius asked, as if looking for confirmation.

James looked up and nodded. “I told you,” he said, soft smile spreading on his face, “I’m in love with him.”

Sirius sat on his bed, groaning. “I feel like my entire world shifted on its axis in the last ten minutes,” he said, looking up at Remus. Remus followed him to his bed, letting Sirius press his cheek against his stomach.

“I think it did, Sirius,” Remus agreed softly, running his fingers through Sirius’ hair. “But maybe you can forgive Regulus now that you know how much he’s changed.” He crooked a finger under Sirius’ chin, forcing Sirius’ gaze up to meet his. “Maybe you can be brothers again.”

Sirius tore his gaze away from Remus’ to look over at Regulus. He smiled softly, and Regulus thought that just maybe, Remus was right.

Maybe they could be brothers again.

#black brothers #the adult fandom project #jegulus #wolfstar #marauders era #marauders fanfiction

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rae-pottah · 7 months

Text

Don't Trust a Malfoy (pt. 2)

Fandom: Take a guess (Harry Potter)

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Malfoy!Reader

Y/n = your name

Warnings: they/them pronouns, trauma, bad parenting, (your probably used to both if you're reading this) ( that was a joke don't take offense), events are taken out of order from the story, shitty writing. Some People Live (Lemme know if I missed anything)

------------------------------------------

*Y/n POV*

As terrified as I was I grabbed on to the portkey, We spun and spun until we fell to the ground with a harsh thud. We looked around to find a large, short man with a walking stick in front of a dirty bricked part of a building with a rusted balcony.

"Get up, lets go" the man says and I realize I recognize him when I look at his face,

"That's-"

"yep-" Harry exhales, walking around me, I walk as slow as i can into the building and to the kitchen, behind everyone else. They know they, they love them, they're a family. I'm not part of that.

Walking into the kitchen they all hug Mrs. and Mr. Weasley. I stand straight in the door frame, hands to my sides.

"It's inappropriate to pick your fingers when you meet someone" my mother's voice rang in my head

"And this must be your friend, whats our name dear, Dumbledore left that part out" Sirius asked

"That's Y/N, That is. Isn't it?" Mr. Weasley looks at the twins

"Yes sir, its a pleasure to meet you all" I say shakily with a nervous smile, surprised and scared he knew who I was

"well, let's eat." Sirius patted my shoulder, I felt I knew Sirius from how much the little fourth year had talked about him, I wished to be like him, to have the courage to leave my family, there was one mistake he made though I knew I never could.

We all talked and talked, me and the twins kept pushing each other around and eventually Fred let out a

"I'll get you back for that Malfoy" I laughed because I thought everything was fine until the room stopped

"What about a Malfoy?" Mr. Weasley asked seeming confused

"M-me, I- I'm Y/n Malfoy" I said nearly with tears in my eyes, hoping they wouldn't hate me too

"ah- um, what- what house are you in?" Mr. Weasley asked, Sirius just looked at me with a Serious and scared face, the fact that a Malfoy knew where he was.

"G-Gryffindor, sir" I said quietly

"And your family? What would you te-" Sirius starts

"That's. enough." Fred stopped Sirius's words "Their family isn't a subject we touch." He stopped the conversation and grabbed my hand under the table, as I looked down a tear fell straight into my lap.

--------------------------------------------------

After we were all done eating, it was time for some important information exchange.

"Darling, um would you mind stepping out while we- talk about some things"

"Of course, apologies, I'm sure I'll find something to look at" I laugh quietly all of the adults giving me a small smile

"Y/n stays." Fred and George say at the same time

"This is a family matter" Sirius stares at them plainly

"That's why they stay." Harry let's out loudly, Sirius turns to him in shock while I look at him in amazement another tear finds it's way down my face

"I-its quite alright I can-" I get cut off by Sirius

"If he feels that strongly about it, I trust his judgement. If you have anything you're willing to add we will take it into account" while looking at me

I gave them all the information I had and they let me listen to what they were planning, the trust they put in me making my heart swell

But as time went by, we had to go back to hogwarts.

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Part 3

#harry potter #weasley family #ginny weasley #ron weasley #george weasley #fred weasley #weasley twins #hogwarts #slytherin #weasley wednesday

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artist-issues · 27 days

Note

Was thinking about the subject of interpretation recently. You've made clearer to me the truth that storytelling is always communicating something and that there's always objective facts to be observed in a story's quality. But what about the subjective elements or the elements that can be argued to be subjective?

To be more specific, you've talked about turning interpretation into rewriting before, largely in regards to the HP Marauders, which is when interpretation goes too far. So I'd first ask what you think is the correct way to handle interpretation in reading stories?

My second question, tying into that, is for cases like those of the HP fandom (and all fandoms everywhere, really) but where the audience claims not to be guilty of rewriting the characters or plot. When things get blurrier and people argue that they can, for example, interpret a character as gay even when that character has explicitly stated they aren't by arguing that - in their interpretation - the character was lying because they're in denial. Other similar cases include of course the thousands of characters whose sexualities and the inner thoughts of their relationships are headcanoned by fans however they see fit with all manner of excuses used to fit it into any canon context that might contradict their vision.

Those are the obvious cases to my mind, but there's also whether a character's motives are selfish or heroic, whether a villain cares about people deep down or is unrelentingly evil, whether the whole story isn't secretly Johnny Jim's fever dream that represents his trauma, etc. In so many cases, fans can make arguments that since their interpretation isn't technically contradicted by the narrative then it can be correct even if it's a pure addition to the story.

Long build up, but my second question would then be do you think that argument is a valid form of interpretation or has it crossed over into rewriting?

This is a tricky question. Because the truth is that humans can twist anything until it says whatever they want it to say. Obviously, if you simply say, "Well I know Lupin married and loved a woman and actively called Sirius a 'friend,'" but he was lying." And when you ask them for proof that he was lying, they ultimately don't have any. They can say "look at how close Sirius and Lupin seemed," or "think about how uncomfortable he was to be with Tonks," but you can easily explain those evidences—with the explanations given in the book by the narrator. "Yeah, they were close because they were friends. He was uncomfortable to marry her because he's a werewolf and she's younger, he literally said so."

Theres "evidence" on both sides, for each argument. But only one side takes all available evidence, as a whole, and still has a supportable conclusion. The other side, the side that claims Lupin and Sirius were romantically interested in one another, picks and chooses whatever lines up with their theory (like you said) and discards the rest—or has to add to the original material to make their interpretation make sense.

And what is "adding to the original material?" It's simply assuming god-like knowledge of a character you didn't create. Because Rowling didn't give you evidence for Lupin's straight love for Tonks and platonic friendship with Sirius being a lie. She could've. She's written liars and their behaviors before. She's written Lupin hiding the truth, too, so we know what THAT looks like.

Ultimately, I'd say:

The correct way to handle the interpretation of stories is to look at the story as a whole, first. Remember that every word, every line, everything said and left out, was a decision made by the storyteller. They're each building blocks for a whole. So you have to look at the whole, first. My method is to look at the good that befalls a character, and the bad that befalls a character, and trace the cause. Usually, the a good or bad thing happening to a character can be traced all the way back to a decision they, or some other character, made. Once you find that decision, you have to try and figure out why the character made that decision: what was their motivation? What belief drove them to make that decision? You act the way you act because you think the way you think. You can figure motivations out in specific characters by analyzing what events shaped their worldview, or paying attention to what words they choose when they speak in moments of conflict or tension. Dodger (in Oliver and Company) says "you're one of the gang. the gang means family." when he's angry with Oliver for wanting to leave. That's the first time we see Dodger hurt and angry with a friend. And that's the explanation we're given. And we can couple that with the times he's risked his skin: jumping in front of angry Dobermans, or refusing to eat until he gets to the others. So we know, after looking at all the evidence, that the most important thing to Dodger isn't food or safety or even "looking cool:" it's that core group of characters he considers "family." Then you've cracked him, as a character.

If a fan is adding something to a story that lines up with the character's purpose in the original material—or at least lines up with their character traits at some point in the original material—then it's an addition to the story. Cinderella 2015 zooms in on the fact that Cinderella loved and respected her parents: in the original cartoon, you're shown one scene of her crying at her father's bedside, and another of her adoring her mother's dress in the most stressful of circumstances. That's not rewriting. The foundation was there in the original material. They just reverse-engineered that parental relationship, looked at how something seemed to be keeping Cartoon Cinderella in high spirits regardless of circumstances (which is not a trait she could've learned anywhere OTHER than those briefly-mentioned parents, based on all the evidence) and built upon it. But, if they'd taken the death of the parents and said, "Ella desperately wanted to please her stepmother, because she barely remembered her real mother," it would have been a rewrite. Why? Because if you look at ALL of the evidence, cartoon Cinderella doesn't tell Bruno to "love Lucifer like I love my stepmother, we're all we've got." That's what she would've said if she felt that way about her birth mother versus her stepmother. But instead, she tells him to "look for his good points, even if it's hard." And she clearly shows excitement and adoration for her mother's old dress. And the opening scene shows us how much she loved her parents. So when you take ALL the evidence, you CAN'T come by the wrong conclusion, and make a rewrite, honestly.

I hope that answered your questions. Shoot me another ask if not.

#Asked #answered #writing #Cinderella #Bruno #Lupin #Sirius Black #Sirius #HP #Harry Potter #state of the fandom

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mediocre-daydreams · 2 years

Text

(ch.3) what it takes to heal

healing isn’t linear

pairing: james potter x female! reader

summary: james can’t stop blaming himself. isn’t it selfish to make your assault about him? when he finally confronts his guilt, he forces himself to face you and regain control. only, how can he be expected to control himself when he comes face-to-face with your assaulter?

warnings: detailed descriptions of sexual assault, detailed descriptions of violence, blood, and wounds, literally just angst

w/c: 8.2k

a/n: i love hearing from u guys! it would mean the world if u could let me know what u think, even if it’s just a smiley face or even a frowny face would be fine it’s just wonderful knowing people are actually seeing these

Maybe it was selfish to cling onto the anger, James thought. Maybe it was selfish to make it about his feelings when it was your trauma to begin with. But he couldn’t help his white-knuckled fists and clenched jaws and side eyes to glasses-wearing boy he passed by; he had even started to resent his own reflection. When you looked at him, was that what you saw? In your drunken state, you had already mistaken him for your assaulter, and James was terrified that you’d begin to resent him—that he’d be a living reminder of that night, when he failed to protect you.

Since the night of the party, you had refused to divulge any more details. James didn’t blame you—he wouldn’t want to relive the night either. But unfortunately for him, it wasn’t a choice. He’d begun to wake up each night, sheets damp with sweat and legs tangled up in his blankets from his tossing and turning. If his roommates noticed, they hadn’t said anything. At least, until today.

James was having a quiet afternoon in the Gryffindor common room, scratching absentmindedly on a worn out piece of parchment where he had been writing and unwriting his Charms essay for the past two hours. The feathered plume of his favorite quill was beginning to droop, suffering under his rough grip.

“James, we need to talk.” Sirius was uncharacteristically, well, serious. More Sirius-y, he flung himself onto a plush armchair beside where James had seated himself on a cushion on the ground. Sirius peered over his shoulder to watch as James shuffled his stationary, eyes fixed on the coffee table where he’d been confining himself for the past few weeks.

“James, huh? Must be big. What d’you wanna talk about?”

Remus and Peter shared a couch beside Sirius, the both of them looking concerned.

“Prongs, you’ve been doing your homework.” Remus raised his eyebrows judgementally.

“Don’t look at me like that! I do my homework all the time! Just trying to be a better student, that’s all. Mum wrote to me, uh, a couple weeks ago and asked me to get my grades up.”

Peter scoffed. “Prongs, we love you, but you’re a shit liar. We all know your grades are fine, and we all know you never spend more time on your homework than you have to. You’ve been holing yourself up by this table for hours every day; we hardly see you outside of classes.”

“Ah, so you miss me, is that it? Of course, my presence has the tendency to-”

“Prongs, don’t play dumb. We’re not blind.” Sirius rubbed his forehead, exasperated. “Does this, by chance, have anything to do with the fact that these were the seats we sat around during the party? That this table was the one she had bumped into? ‘Cos you’re not just doing your homework, you’re practically glued to this spot in particular. We all know you’re not one to stay still, Prongs. Don’t- don’t do whatever this is. You have to talk to us.”

James sighed, banging his fist against the top of his head as he thought of how to reply. “Look mate, it means a lot that you guys worry about me. But I’m fine, I swear. Just been tired recently, and yeah, all that stuff has been weighing me down, but my grades are fine, Minnie hasn’t said anything, and I’m seeing you three right now, aren’t I?”

“That’s it. Prongs, we are taking you hostage until you stop lying to yourself. I don’t give a hippogriff’s hairy behind if you wanna deny whatever it is you’re denying to us—and don’t even try to deny your denial, James-” Peter shot him a pointed glare. “We know you. You might not want us to be here, but you’re going to have to suck it up. We’re Maurauders. We’re brothers. And you’re stuck with us, whether you want to be or not. So lie to us, whatever. But we’re not going to stand aside and watch your denial eat you up, because this is not the man we know.”

James stared at Peter. His lips were parted and he wasn’t quite sure what to say, or if he was capable of saying anything at all. He ran his hand through his hair, pulling his fingers through the knots that had accumulated after he had stopped brushing it.

Remus cleared his throat. “Alright, mate. You look like shit. When was the last time you showered?” Remus paused to consider. “Actually, please don’t answer that. I don’t want to know. Why don’t you go wash, yeah? We’ll be in the dormitory when you’re done, so don’t even think about running off.”

James pursed his lips, his chin scrunching up, as his eyes moved across his three friends. Sirius was tapping his hands anxiously on his knees, a sign James knew all too well—he was raised to be poised and polite, so when he tapped, it was a testament to the severity of his concern. His heart panged, knowing he was the cause of it. Peter was standing, arms crossed and cheeks flushed with a gentle pink. He knew what that meant too—Peter, soft, kind Peter, had put aside his discomfort of confrontation because he knew his friend had needed the tough love. Peter, despite his sweeter disposition, wasn’t a very blushy guy. Seeing his cheeks tinged with what James could easily recognize as selfless concern twitched James’ mouth into a downward smile.

And then there was Remus—lovely, nurturing Remus—hands buried in his pockets, rocking on the balls of his feet. It was the most heartbreaking but heartwarming sign between the three of their tells. Remus was rarely comfortable enough to hide his hands. For all the time James had known him, Remus had been careful to make sure he’d have at least one hand free at all times. Remus had always been terrified of his lycanthropy being the cause of somebody else’s hurt, but he had come to terms with the fact that it wasn’t something he could control. That didn’t stop Remus from trying to prevent others’ pain. His free hand was always catching other students when they tripped, or rested on the back of a younger student as he helped them through a crowded corridor to find a class, or holding the hand of another to comfort them when they were upset, or clutching a bar of chocolate to gift to someone when he sensed they needed a bit of cheer. It was what Remus was known for.

The fact that both of Remus’ hands were hidden wasn’t a sign that the boy had stopped caring about James. It didn’t mean Remus had stopped caring about James’ wellbeing; in fact, it was the opposite. It was the ultimate sign of trust. Remus had complete faith in his friend. Remus had complete confidence in James’ ability to take care of himself. He didn’t see James as broken or something in need of fixing, he saw James as his best friend who just needed to be reminded that it wasn’t his fault. That he hadn’t failed you; rather, he had taken care of you at your most vulnerable and that you’d been smiling again because of his endless support. Just as James had seen your strength during the time you had felt the most violated and helpless, Remus saw the strength in his friend.

Steam and humidity trailed behind James as he emerged from the bathroom, slung over his shoulder. James had always been proud of his figure, often making a point to strut out of the bathroom like a sexy male model to make his roommates laugh, but that wasn’t the case anymore. Though he had still been upholding his duties as Quidditch captain, his well defined abs and toned muscles had begun fading into softer curves. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been insecure about his body. For Merlin’s sake, he had even gotten changed in the bathroom to avoid having his friends look at his top half. He knew there was nothing wrong with his body, per say; he had always made sure Peter knew how handsome he was with his round stomach and encouraged Remus to embrace his lankiness. But who was he, if not James Potter with the body? Who was he, if not James Potter with the loudmouthed charisma? Who was he, if he wasn’t the act he put on for other people? Was he anything at all?

He brushed his hand over the gentle slope of his stomach, heart sinking. He had been eating his worries in the form of any carbohydrate he could get his hands on. In fact, the house elves had made an effort to prepare midnight snacks for James, as he had found himself sneaking into the kitchens when he couldn’t sleep to find something to nibble on. He hadn’t been very active either; he had practically become a hermit.

James sighed, sitting on the edge of his bed with a groan. He looked around the room. “Did you guys… clean?”

“Yeah,” Remus gave James a sad smile and came to sit next to James on the bed, patting his back comfortingly. “I used to have this habit of letting my room get messy in the days leading up to the full moon; I was too on edge to clean. But after the moon, while I was recovering, I had to sit in the must and mess of my resignment. I was sitting in chaos and living in a chaotic mind. Once I started to clean, I finally had a clear space to rest after my transformation. It helped. Even if my mind was jumbled, I had at least one space of my own that was in order. It gave me a sense of control.”

James chewed the inside of his mouth and hummed thoughtfully, beginning to nod as he took in Remus’ words. “Thank you,” he muttered gratefully, watching as Peter threw the last of his dirty laundry into a hamper and as Sirius opened the window to let some fresh air in. James had refused to let the house elves come into his side of the bedroom. He couldn’t really understand why. But he thought it had something to do with invasion; you had been so terrified to sleep and not be able to control what happened around you while you were gone, and James had started to hate the idea that the elves could enter his space while he was gone. He had been drowning in his own self deprecation, not even able to escape it when he slept; plagued by nightmares. Everything in his room felt too personal, too volatile.

“Thank you,” James said a bit louder, and Sirius and Peter turned to him and gave him nods.

“Don’t mention it. We know you haven’t… wanted the house elves to touch your things. I’m the same with my room at home,” Sirius confessed. “Your possessions feel like the only things you can control, right? I’m sorry if we crossed any boundaries. It’s just, well, you’ve quite literally been drowning in your trash. At some point, you have to pull yourself out of this. We figured we’d give you a head start and begin clearing out the mess.”

“No, you didn’t cross any boundaries. I-” James sniffed. “I appreciate it.”

Peter’s lip trembled, and he bit it to stop himself from getting emotional. “It’s okay to feel guilty, you know. You’re allowed to have an emotional reaction to what happened, even if it didn’t happen directly to you. What that boy did… it affected all of us. Your best friend was hurt. Of course you’re going to react to it. And I see you finding any reason to beat yourself up—you keep blaming yourself, and then getting mad at yourself for thinking you’re making it about you, and then freezing and letting yourself be pulled into this chasm of self-hatred, and then feeling guilty that you’re so far gone that you’re not able to be there for… her anymore.” Peter refrained from saying your name, knowing it was a sensitive point.

James looked up, surprised. Peter’s analysis was shockingly accurate. Peter read James’ mind one more time. “I know you, Prongs. You’re self-sacrificing, sometimes to a fault. And sometimes, when we don’t allow ourselves to actually confront our emotions and process, we just drown. You’re drowning, James. And the only way you can help yourself and be there to help her is if you finally accept your feelings.”

James looked away from Peter, rubbing his eyes and laughing humorlessly. “When did you get so wise, Wormy?”

Peter just smiled. “Only when it comes to helping my friends, Prongs.”

It was a couple days later that James was finally able to talk. The four Maurauders were down by the Black Lake. James had seen you for the first time in two weeks, and the dark circles under your eyes had faded considerably. He could tell you’d been taking care of your hair again, and your robes were ironed. He could’ve sworn he caught a whiff of perfume too. When you smiled at him, a genuinely bright smile, he thought he’d melt into the floor right there.

“She looks better, doesn’t she?” Remus said into the air to nobody in particular. He was lying on the grass with his hands behind his head, Sirius beside him. Sirius was trying to play footsie with Remus, but the latter stayed completely still, not giving in. Sirius seemed fine with the one-sided game.

James spoke your name, as if to confirm that it was you Remus was talking about. He had begun making progress, finally able to say your name without a waver in his voice. “Yeah, she does. She looks happier, too. She’s so strong… I don’t know how she does it. She’s the one who was… assaulted-” he choked out the word. “But she’s healing so well. And I’m still here, doing whatever it is I’m doing. It feels pathetic.”

“Hey, healing isn’t linear. You’re allowed to have your good and bad days. And listen, you need to get this into your thick, handsome head,” Peter whacked the back of James’ head with more force than necessary to emphasize the point. “That you’re allowed to feel. When something like this happens, it doesn’t just affect one person. It affects everyone around us, and fuck, it’ll affect the asshole who did it. Just because you’re experiencing and handling this differently doesn’t mean you’re not valid.”

“‘Ya girl might be struggling too, you know.” Sirius piped up from his spot in the grass. He had given up on the footsies and was now trying to nuzzle his head into Remus’ arms. Remus made no effort to help him.

“You think she’s struggling?” James’ voice, which was previously lazy and contemplative, was immediately laced with concern and frantic energy.

“Just because she’s not showing it externally doesn’t mean she’s not.” Remus advised, finally giving in. Sirius sighed contentedly as he was finally able to win Remus’ touch.

“Godric, I never even thought- fuck, I haven’t checked up on her in weeks.”

“Hey,” Remus continued. “If you had been trying to take care of her while you were a mess—which you were, sorry—it probably would’ve made things worse. But you’re doing better now, and if you want to talk to her, I think that’d be a good idea. I think she’d appreciate it too. She likes you a lot, y’know?”

“Does she really?” James’ voice was soft. He thought about you, his brave girl. His girl, who had been suffering alone while he had tried to ignore his feelings and ended up wallowing in self pity and not being able to help you. He thought about your face when you recoiled from him, mistaking him for your assaulter; he winced. But he remembered your lips that night, when you curled up in bed with him. He remembered as they whispered reassurances against his neck, and he remembered the electricity down his spine as your breath tickled his cheeks. His girl—well, you weren’t technically his girl—was the bravest he knew. Braver than him, braver than any Gryffindor in the castle. Braver than all the Maurauders combined.

“Yeah… yeah I’m gonna go talk to her. I’m gonna go find her.” He scrambled to his feet, brushing the grass from his trousers. “She doesn’t have anything going on, right? No weekend plans? She’s gonna be free?”

“Yes, Prongs.” Peter sighed, slightly amused by James’ dedication to you. “She’s free.”

“Go get your girl, tiger.” Sirius chided. James flipped him off before running towards the castle, his mind running with what he’d say to you after weeks of radio silence.

“Hey!” James called your name, turning the corridor and catching sight of your hair. Whoever you had been walking with had left, and you were headed towards the library with a bag slung over one shoulder and a quill in one hand, which you fiddled with. Godric, I love her hands.

“Hey! Wait up!” You turned around, eyes widening and a big smile spreading across your face when you saw the boy you’d been missing for weeks.

“James!” You ran to catch up to him, and you two collided into each other with a huff as you had the breath knocked out of you. “James, I’ve missed you so much.” You didn’t give James a chance to escape before you threw your arms around his neck, raising yourself on your tip toes so you could properly hug his large frame. He chuckled, and you felt deep rumble of his chest on yours. You hoped he couldn’t feel the pounding of your heart. When you pulled away, your hands never left his body. They slipped from around his neck and trailed down his arms until you held both his hands in yours, holding them up between you with a tight grip as if you were scared he’d turn around and avoid you again.

“Where have you been, you dummy?” You tried to glare at him, but even as you brought your lips down into a scowl, the smile was evident and the adoration in your eyes was impossible to miss.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he mumbled into your hair as he pulled you back into him. He only dropped one of your hands so he could use the other to wrap around the small of your back, being the one to pull you close this time.

He sighed. “I’ve missed you too. I just- you’re incredible, you know that?” He rested his chin on the crown of your head, looking straight ahead of him. He could feel the warmth of your breath on his chest, where your head remained buried.

“I know,” you giggled.

“I’m glad you know,” you couldn’t see his face, but you imagined that he was smiling. “I actually- I didn’t drink that night. Tried to stay sober, because I know maybe you thought of me as a bit irresponsible. That would’ve been a fair judgement. I’ve never been clever like you,” he tapped your nose.

“I wanted to stay sober so I could spend time with you and enjoy it. I wanted to remember it all, ‘cos I cherish my time with you. And I know that you don’t really like the types of parties I throw. But you came anyways, and that meant a lot to me. So I told myself I’d watch over you, make sure you were comfortable, protect you, y’know? But then I left, and you came back all fucked up, and I felt like I had failed you.

“I blamed myself for a long time, y’know? I think I still do. I was selfish; I couldn’t face you knowing that I had failed you.”

Your face scrunched in confusion, and you forced yourself out of his embrace. Your arms crossed over your chest self consciously.

“James… you idiot.” You huffed. “I don’t blame you. I don’t blame you because there’s nobody to blame but the bastard who tried to-” you looked down at the ground. “I’m sorry, I’m still trying to… I dunno. It’s hard to say the words.

“But it’s not your fault, James. Don’t you think that for a second. I don’t think I would’ve- I, well, I can’t imagine what would’ve happened that night if you weren’t here. I don’t know,” you turned away from him, overcome with emotion. “I don’t know if I would’ve made it through the night at all,” you whispered, voice breaking.

James didn’t say anything. You didn’t expect him to. This time, when James’ eyes begin watering, he let himself blink. He let the tear fall down his cheek silently. He made no effort to wipe it away. “Darling, it wasn’t just me that night. You were so strong, so tenacious. You were a true Gryffindor that night. That was all you; that was all your character and your ability. Don’t let me take credit for how extraordinary you are. Because you are. Extraordinary, I mean.” He put his hands on your shoulders and guided your body so that you were facing him again. Taking one finger under your chin, he prompted you to look up at him. When you did, he saw those red rimmed eyes he had come to know he was much too familiar with.

His friends were right. He had been so caught up in his own self blame that he never thought to consult you—it turns out, you never blamed him at all. Maybe you were right. It wasn’t his fault. After all, you’d always been smarter than him. His hand came up to cup your face of its own accord, thumb brushing over your cheek. Back and forth, back and forth, until your eyes closed in satisfaction.

“Can we talk somewhere more private? I don’t want to divulge all of this in the middle of the corridor,” you chuckled apprehensively, eyes darting to a cluster of students clutching textbooks approaching.

“Of course, love. C’mon.” James slung his arm over your shoulder and you swatted his hand playfully, but you made no move to escape his touch. In fact, you burrowed closer to his side. James’ face reddened, and he was glad you were focused on walking rather than on his face.

You turned the corner, where the corridor broke off from the route to the library and led to the girls bathroom that Moaning Myrtle haunted. Nobody particularly enjoyed these bathrooms, so you were secure in your privacy. You tugged James into the corridor and he lurched forwards; when you began approaching him, he stumbled backwards until he hit the wall. You smirked, pressing one hand beside him and looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“I like this new dynamic. We should do this more often,” you purred, watching as he tensed, refusing to meet your eye. His ears burned.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” He choked out, trying to regain his composure and rubbing his arm with a clammy hand.

Your confident facade faltered, and you removed your hand from beside him, shifting most of your weight to your heels. “Uh, right. I wanted to tell you about the guy.” You muttered, trying your hardest to keep your eyes on him. “You asked about him… that night. And I didn’t want to talk about it. But, if you’d be okay with it, I really just- I really need to get it out. I have to say it at some point. And I’ve talked a lot with Marlene and Dorcas and Lily and the three of them have been lovely and so understanding; they get it, y’know? It’s just… the reality of being a woman.”

James winced, hard. Seeing his reaction was enough for you to break eye contact, and you flung your head backwards so you could stare at the ceiling instead. You crossed your arms, placing your hands on your shoulders and squeezing, trying to ground yourself.

“Every time I try to talk about it, or think about it, or even admit that it happened, I feel like I’m floating away. My body feels like it’s buzzing and I feel like I can’t even control my thoughts anymore. And most of the time, I end up going back to that night. The memories are still fuzzy, and I don’t think I’ll ever fully get them back—I’m still considering talking to Dumbledore, though—but I’m not dumb. I can fill in the blanks, and I’m not blind enough to pretend like I don’t know where it was going to go. What he would’ve done to me if I hadn’t- if I-” you gasped, steeling yourself as your mind flashed back once more. “If I hadn’t stopped him. And y’know, part of the reason I was able to pull myself away was because; well, I thought he was you. But once he started t-touching me, I knew it couldn’t be you. Because you’d never touch me like- like that.” You gulped, steadying your quivering voice. Your tone dropped to a murmur, talking mostly to yourself. “Not that I wouldn’t want you to- just, not without my consent, anyways.”

James was breathless. Your faith in him never failed to astound him.

“And, I was wondering, James,” you spoke to him again. You brought your head down to avoid looking him in the eyes again. One of your hands searched for his, seeking comfort. He brought his forward to clasp your trembling hand and squeezed in pulses as you tried to catch your breath; your mouth opened and closed as you worked to muster up the words.

“I was wondering if you’d be okay if I’d told you. If you’d be okay to listen. I know it’s a lot and it’s hard and I didn’t want to burden the girls with this because yeah, it’s just… it’s so much, and I know these last few weeks have been hard for you too, so I don’t want to upset you, but-”

James cut you off with a kiss to your forehead. You gasped—the two of you had always been close enough for casual cuddles and touches, but ever since the party, there was an undeniable tension between the two of you. At least, you felt it. You hoped he did too.

“Yes. Yes, please tell me. I’m honored that you feel comfortable enough to talk to me. I’m always going to be here for you, whatever you need. I love- I love seeing you happy. Whatever I can do to help you, I’d do it in a heartbeat. You know that.” James breathed. He was surprised by his kiss too.

“James, I-” Your laugh was breathless and laced with worry. “It scares me when you say that. The extent that you’d go for me is… I dunno. It’s, wow.” You dipped your head. “But I trust you. Probably more than anyone else.

“The boy… I think he was a Ravenclaw. Tall, like you. He had glasses; circular frames. He looked sweet and he acted sweet, and I let my guard down so fast.” You stumbled, words flowing from your mouth faster than you could articulate so that they began to bleed into each other. “I’m not naive; I know perfectly well the dangerous of being a girl at a party. I’m always careful. Marlene and Dorcas and Lily and I—we’ve always watched out for each other. I dunno if it’s the same for you, for boys. But there are rules that every girl knows. You’re supposed to wander too far on your own. I only went to get a drink, I thought I’d be quick. Kind of got distracted by the boy and his friends. And safety in numbers, of course. Always keeping an eye on your friends. I left the three of them, and they couldn’t find me in time to snap me out of it. And obviously, you never leave your drink unattended. And if you need to leave for any reason, you give it to somebody you absolutely trust. The, uh, date, um… rape d-drugs are more sophisticated now. I’m sure you can make ‘em more subtle with magic. I was- hah, I went to the bathroom. Gave the boy my cup. I dunno what I was thinking; well, I probably wasn’t thinking at all. Probably already drunk at that point—everyone knows I can’t handle my alcohol.

“It’s kind of ironic. I was talking about trousers. When we were getting ready, I wanted to wear trousers. Dresses are… they make me uncomfortable sometimes. It makes me feel exposed. But I was trying to go out of my comfort zone, and nobody goes to a party anticipating something like this would happen; nobody thinks stuff like this would happen to them at all. Right, yeah, and I got cold. Gave me his jacket—it was red, I think. Um, kind of like a windbreaker; thin, it made crumple-y noises. The red made me think it was a Gryffindor jacket. It kinda solidified by theory that he was you. I wore it, and then y’know, I was really close to him ‘cos I was cold. I sit near you sometimes when I’m cold. It was all pretty normal.

Then he started, uh… his voice got all low. Kind of scratchy. He got really close, and then I think he might’ve pulled me into his lap, but I can’t remember. I-” you blushed.

“I would’ve been okay with sitting in his lap if it were actually you. But if I had known it wasn’t you, I wouldn’t have let him do it. Isn’t that silly?

“I just wanted to sleep, at that point. I was all close to him. Practically on top of him. My eyelids were really heavy, so I asked him to bring me up to my dormitory. He didn’t really say anything. I think at that point I started thinking something was wrong. He smelled like parchment and ink, and you don’t smell like that. You smelled like vanilla, that night. And he didn’t touch me the way you do.

“His hands were… everywhere. It made me shiver. I think it would’ve been okay if it were, uh, you. B-but it wasn’t you, of course. He- he was moving his hand… up my leg. He had cold fingers. You have warm hands. His fingers were a little thinner and softer than yours; you’ve got the callouses from quidditch, so I was a bit confused. And they were moving, um, they were moving up. Up my legs, under my dress. It tickled, kind of. And his other hand was on my shoulder, touching the strap of the dress. Do you remember? It was really thin; it didn’t cover much.”

You took a shuddering breath, grimacing. Your shoulders were practically at your ears, as if you were preparing for some invisible attack. James remembered the dress. You were absolutely radiant—he thought he might’ve just let his feelings slip right then and there. But it wasn’t just your beauty that had ingrained the dress in your mind, but the dreams which plagued him every night. He saw you in that dress, and he saw disconnected hands grabbing at it, ripping the fabric, and he saw himself running towards you as you sobbed, your arms reaching out for him and screaming his name. He would throw himself forward, running so quickly it was as if his feet had stopped touching the ground, but you would only get further away. He was in a vacuum and you were always out of reach, being pulled deeper into the void as he rushed desperately to save you. The red dress always shined, like blood, until it had welded itself into his brain.

“The strap was sliding down my arm. The neckline was already pretty loose. I thought the whole top of the dress might just fall down in the middle of the common room, so I pressed myself closer to him to hide my body. The other hand, the one under my dress, it was, um,” you struggled to breathe, each inhale raspy. James recognized your panic immediately.

“Hey, hey, breathe with me. Remember what we did before?” He took your hand and placed it over his heart. “Let’s breathe together, okay?” His breaths were slow and deep, but as hard as you tried, you couldn’t match his pace. He frowned. His hands found a home cupped around your face once more, and he brushed both thumbs over your lips. Your mouth closed and you were forced to swallow your hiccups. With his fingers guiding your mouth shut, you transitioned to breathing through your nose. You couldn’t get as much air in through your nose as you could while breathing through your mouth, so your inhales began deepening as your body began forcing itself to intake more oxygen. Your heart was pounding. Your head spun.

When your breathing had evened, James removed his hands from your face and rested them on your shoulders instead. You were still panting, but determined to finish your story.

“Okay. Right. He was touching my leg. I didn’t like it, at all. His finger was… stroking my thigh. I hated it, I hated it because it was him doing it.” It wasn’t you. “Went- went up more. Just sliding up, y’know? Very slowly, so I could feel it all. He- he went up to- to my… he went up to my knickers.” You were whispering, voice barely audible. James had to lean closer to catch your words.

“He- he touched; no, he pulled at the top of them. My knickers, I mean. Put his fingers in-inside, just a little. Not- not too far. But they were there. So that was… scary. But I didn’t like it. I knew there was no way you’d do that. Touch me without consent, I mean. And you’d never- I know you’d never, ever do that to anyone. You would never… s-se, um,” you squished your eyes closed. “You would never s-sexually assault anyone. You’re a good person. I knew it couldn’t be you. So I ran away. And I found you. And you held me, and you took care of me. And I don’t know- I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t been there. He could’ve come to find me, maybe.

And I know it would’ve gone much further if you hadn’t been there. Because he said, uh, that he wanted-” you whimpered, rocking back and forth. Your quiet expression of fear sent a wave of angry adrenaline through James’ body. James’ jaw had been clenched so tightly he thought he might’ve locked it into place. His fists were so tight that even his stubby fingernails had begun digging into the squishy flesh of his palms. He had a suspicion that he might’ve punctured the skin.

“He wanted to make m- me; no, h- he wanted for us to make, uh, each other feel… good. So if I hadn’t- if I hadn’t left, I think maybe he might’ve- that he could’ve- that I could’ve ended up, um, in his bed. And he might’ve, um,” your entire body was shaking, arms wrapped around your waist so tightly that you swore you’d have handprint shaped bruises on your sides the next morning. Your voice was solemn, nearing complete silence as you gasped for air and forced out the words that you had so adamantly refused to speak. Your chin trembled. “He might’ve… uh, um-”

No. You couldn’t. It wouldn’t come out. You were breathing through your nose, like James taught you to do. You were getting enough air. Your brain was working. Your mouth was open. It was dry, but it was open. The words were in your mind; you knew what you were trying to say. They were right there, and if words could be visible, they’d be spelled right out across your tongue. But they wouldn’t come out. You coughed, trying to force them out. Nothing.

“Don’t,” James muttered, watching as you began to choke on the word, the one which would’ve solidified the horror of it all. “Love, you don’t have to force yourself to say the words if you’re not ready to say them. There’s no time limit to healing. If it takes you months, or if it takes you years to say the words, that’s okay. The fact that you’ve been able to say all this; actually, the fact that you’ve been able to confront all this is a feat. I haven’t even been able to,” he sniffed, trying to smile. “I haven’t even been able to do that.

“I’m honored that you told me all this. I’m in awe of your ability to confront this. Saying the words isn’t going to mean you’ll suddenly be able to move on and feel better. Saying the words out loud isn’t necessary to your healing. It’s just one thing. It’s one thing you can do. But it isn’t something you have to do; you can go your entire life without saying those words, baby. But you know what’s necessary? Recognizing all the progress you’ve made. Look at yourself—you were barely able to think about what happened during the night of the party, and here you are now, talking to me about it. That’s progress. A couple words? That’s not going to make all the pain go away. I- if I’m honest, I don’t know if the pain can ever go away.

But maybe, after time, the pain will dull. And you know that you have so many people who love you and stick by you. And if you can admit what happened to you, then you can admit how brave you’ve been. I need you to realize that, okay? Because it’s true, and there’s no point in forcing yourself to relive that night and question all the ways things could’ve gone differently. It happened, but you’ve taken the aftermath into your own hands; you’re in control this time.”

“James. James… when did you get so wise?”

“I can’t take credit for it. This was all Peter.” James didn’t make any effort to touch you, knowing there was a good possibility you had retreated into that night. He didn’t move closer to you at all, until you opened your arms to him and let him hug you. Boy, did he hug you. Your feet left the ground, kicking in surprise as he let out a strangled laugh, only tightening his hold on you. You wrapped your legs around his waist to get comfortable, and James spun to press you against the wall so you’d be supported. You snorted, realizing the compromising position the two of you were in and what you’d look like to a passerby. James planted little kisses into the crook of your collarbones as you closed your eyes, savoring the feeling of his lips, slightly chapped, against your warm skin.

Footsteps.

Your eyes fluttered open, praying it wasn’t a teacher passing by. No meowing; it couldn’t be Filch. The steps got louder, but the shoes weren’t loud and clicky. It couldn’t have been McGonagall. They sounded more like trainers.

The blood drained from your face. It was him.

James felt your terror immediately; you tensed up so quickly that it was almost as if you had jumped out of your skin. “Darling? What’s wrong?”

You whimpered, eyes trained on the boy, praying he wouldn’t catch sight of the two of you. The corridor was shadowed, and nobody ever went to these bathrooms. Your breaths became ragged, increasing in volume as you tried to steady yourself in the way James had been teaching you. You weren’t quick enough, because he turned around, looking confused as he searched for the source of the sound.

You buried your face into James’ shoulder to try and muffle your squeaky noises. Please, please, please, please…

The boy squinted, he could make out one—no, two shadowed figures. Something seemed vaguely familiar. “Hello?” He called out cautiously.

James’s face turned into a sneer. “Is that him?” He hissed, his eyes never leaving the Ravenclaw. He felt you nod into his shoulder. “Alright, I’m gonna put you down for a second, okay?” He bent down until he was crouched so that you didn’t have to let go of him, and then pried your limbs off of him, watching as you curled into yourself with your head hidden between your knees as soon as you lost contact with him. “I’ll be back in a second, alright love? D’you wanna go to the bathroom? Maybe sit with Moaning Myrtle?” You laughed mirthlessly, eyes unfocused as you raised your head to look at him.

His eyes ran over your body, tiny and timid, on the floor of a lonely corridor. He could hardly recognize you—where was his best girl, burning with passion and wit, exuding confidence and courage? There was only one person to blame, and this time, he knew it wasn’t him.

It only took a couple long strides for James to reach the Ravenclaw boy. He was taller than James, and he looked down disdainfully with his eyebrows raised as if to express his disinterest.

“You slimy bastard.” James seethed, shoving both hands into the Ravenclaw’s chest, who stumbled backwards. “You sick coward.”

“Name calling? Really?” The Ravenclaw boy scoffed. James’ eye flickered to the Head Boy badge gleaming, pinned on his robes.

James’ hands were trembling; he finally unclenched his fists, cracking his fingers loudly. “You touched her? You touched my girl?” He spat, heart thundering in his ears. The pounding was so loud he wasn’t sure if he’d even be able to hear the boy’s response.

“Easy there,” he chuckled, raising his hands in a placating gesture and taking a couple steps backwards. “Sorry mate, didn’t know she was yours.” He didn’t seem apologetic whatsoever; in fact, the smirk on his face made James realize that the Ravenclaw boy found the situation amusing.

“She’s not- she’s not a fucking belonging.” He said through gritted teeth, finger jabbing accusingly in the boy’s direction. “Did you or did you not touch her?”

The boy sighed, fiddling with his Head Boy badge. “She liked it, mate. Literally threw herself at me. Wouldn’t let go of my jacket or get off my lap; if anything, she’s the one who came on to me.”

James’ eyes bugged. “So, what was it you put in her drink then?”

A flicker of worry crossed the Ravenclaw’s face, but was quickly replaced by a bored expression. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do. You do fucking know, because you got her drunk, you fucking laced her drink, and then you tried to take advantage of her. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out; I thought Ravenclaws were supposed to be smart?” James’ eyes were narrowed as he took slow steps towards the taller boy, who grounded himself solidly on the floor, refusing to move backwards.

“Even if anything you’re accusing me of is true, there’s no proof. I didn’t fucking touch her. Nothing happened. She was in the common room the whole time; there were people everywhere and she was pissed. Of course she’s not going to know what she’s talking about; the bit- the girl was out of her mind. For all you know, she could be making this shit up. She practically forced herself on me, and when I wouldn’t fuck her, she probably got offended and now she’s spreading all this false shit about me, trying to make up for her humiliation. And don’t worry, I wouldn’t touch your girl even if given the chance. She’s not my type.”

James was heaving. He closed his eyes, trying to stop himself from doing something stupid. Did it really matter at this point? Maybe the asshole deserved for James to do something stupid. Plus, it would feel good.

“Godric, you really are a piece of shit, aren’t you? Y’know, I didn’t wanna take this too far, ‘cos m’girl has been through enough, but,” his voice was deep and low as he met the Ravenclaw chest-to-chest, breathing heavily. He chuckled bitterly, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re really gonna pull that card, aren’t you? She forced herself on you? She asked for it?” He growled. “You know who’s asking for it? You, motherfucker.”

The Head Boy’s head flung to the side with the reverberation of a dull impact; he grunted then cursed loudly. Cracking his neck, he rubbed his jaw as he glared at James murderously. “You just punched the Head Boy. Do you understand? I’m the Head. Boy,” he snarled, swaggering towards James, who ran his tongue over the top row of his teeth, not yet satisfied.

“Good. That’s what I was aiming for,” James jeered, head jerking to the side to study the Head Boy’s face, looking him up and down.

“I don’t think you understand the severity of your situation, boy.” His lip curled. “You and your little whore have no way to prove any sort of assault. I’ve got a bruise, right here, that can prove you assaulted me. So who’s Dumbledore gonna believe, huh? I might not be able to retaliate right now—and believe me, I wish I could—but you’re screwed if-”

James couldn’t hear the rest of what the Ravenclaw said, because once he heard your gasping sob from the corridor, he lost control. He was blind—black was creeping into his vision and adrenaline was pulsing through his veins to the point of numbness; all he could feel was throbbing as his fist collided with the Ravenclaw’s face. At some point, the taller boy had fallen to the floor, and James leaned over him, slamming his swollen, bleeding knuckles anywhere he thought would inflict the most pain.

You touched my girl. You touched her- you touched her and now you’re calling her what? You’re accusing her of what? You disgusting, repulsive monster. You don’t deserve to live, you-

“James!” You’re yelling into his ear, nails digging into his shoulder. “James! Stop! James!” He can’t hear you. He’s lost himself entirely. He’s furious, violent, and he raises his fist again. This time, his elbow comes up and jabs you in the soft part of your stomach, sending you stumbling backwards with a strangled gasp and whimper upon impact with the stoney ground. It was only then that James came to his senses.

“Shit.” His head swivelled between the boy on the ground and you. The boy’s eye was beginning to bruise, the side of his face that had been pressed into the ground badly scraped and producing beads of blood, and his cheekbone grotesquely split, the skin peeling around it. You, in comparison, were fine. But James’ eyes widened as he raced over to you and inspected your injuries, the fury in his eyes immediately melting into worry. The knees of your trousers were chuffed, and you were rubbing your tailbone, which had taken the brunt of the fall. But your hands were red and beginning to bleed; in your attempt to catch yourself, your hands had dragged along the ground and the skin of your palms had torn. James thought he could see tiny stones and gravel in your cuts.

His eyes jumped to your face, which was unscathed. Your lips were parted as you breathed shallowly, but you bit your bottom lip when you saw the sweat on James’ forehead and the specks of blood across his nose. The two of you looked horrible, to say the least.

He grabbed your face, more forcefully than normal, and pressed his forehead to yours. You trembled under the intensity of his concern. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I never wanted to scare you. I’m sorry. And you got hurt,” he pulled his head away, leaving his hands where they were. “You got hurt because I couldn’t control myself. I’m sorry.” James’ hands left your face as he rubbed his eyes with his wrists, trying not to get the blood on his knuckles all over his face.

“I’m not scared of you, James. I could never be scared of you. I’m scared for you. You’re so busy worrying about other people—about me—that you’re getting hurt. Look at you,” you took his hand in yours gently, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “You didn’t have to- well,” you sighed, “he really was a dick, wasn’t he?”

“Mhm,” James’ vision was still blurred, by tears or by the aftershock, he wasn’t sure.

From behind the two of you, the Ravenclaw boy moaned. You heard a string of swears come from his mouth, slightly warped, as his lips had been beaten by James only moments ago.

James’ mouth pursed. He shot you a look before pushing himself off the ground with a huff, stalking over to the boy who was struggling into a sitting position. The Ravenclaw’s smug facade finally broke, and he looked up at James, who towered over him with his arms crossed and chest puffed.

“You come near my girl again, and I’ll kill you. In fact, if you even look at her or think about her, I’ll know, and I’ll come for you. I’m walking away now only because I’m not about to let m’girl put up with any more of your bullshit, but you mess with her for a second time? I’ll feed your dismembered limbs to the thestrals.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

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hihimissamericanbi · 4 months

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For your wip tag game and I'm very intrigued by #10 🤩 - the pairing? Hmmmmm flip a coin between wolfstar and drarry ♡

Hello, gorgeous anon!!

I answered number 10 here with rarepair rosekiller x lily. let's see how this looks with wolfstar, first war era. CW: war-typical trauma, deaths, grittiness, etc. once again i got lost in the lead-up sauce and the smut is more of an idea/some sexy lines :') happy ending tho (heh)

Ok i never write canon/first war wolfstar it's too depressing. BUT i think it gives us lots of delicious tension to have everything in the world so fucked up they stop caring about the consequences of outing themselves to each other (period-typical homophobia), or what would happen to their friendship, if one of them finally made a move.

We are deep into the war years. Lily and James have already gone into hiding. Neither remus nor sirius are home very often in their shared flat. They barely speak to each other these days.

benji has just been found in pieces.

You'd think by now they'd be used to it. the shock, another one of their friends gone in an instant. death surrounds them every day; they can't get more familiar with it. it's the air they breathe, it's the song in their heads that rocks them to sleep each night in their cold, separate beds.

yet here they are, well on their way to getting pissed on cheap firewhiskey, sitting on the floor of their small living room and not looking at each other.

not speaking to each other.

what words could they possibly say that they haven't each thought a million times over, like tickertape running nonstop behind their eyes. A litany of saints. Well, martyrs, at least.

They stopped believing they were saints a long time ago.

"fuck it." Sirius spits, his face cracking into some version of his old smile. he looks terrifying. Remus still thinks he's beautiful. "Truth or dare, moony mine?"

Remus nearly chokes on his firewhiskey. "i'm sorry?"

"what, you got something better to do?" Sirius grabs the bottle from Remus' hand, takes a swig. "truth or fucking dare."

"come on padfoot, i'm tired---"

"you're always tired"

"i just don't want to"

"you never want anything, anymore." and what sirius means, in a very small voice in the back of his head: you never want me anymore.

And despite everything, Remus still speaks fluent Padfoot.

"What kind of dares could we possible do anyway?---"

"Oh, I'm sure i can think of something" Sirius interjects.

"---we are stuck here, no where to go, very little magic we can do without giving ourselves away---"

Sirius cuts him off again. "Truth or dare, moony."

Remus grabs the bottle, glaring, utterly miserable but beneath that, a spark of something. nervousness?

"dare."

"Dare you to finish the bottle."

"If i do that we won't have any more to drink," Remus argues.

"Fair point. Dare you anyway."

"Fine." Remus finishes the last of the bottle, a good 3-4 shots worth of alcohol. He's not sure what the point of that was; Sirius isn't that drunk yet and honestly, his own werewolf metabolism can handle a lot more than this. This much alcohol will only just now start to hit him. Said metabolism makes your usual pain potions practically useless, unless he drinks the whole fucking flask, and at 10 galleons an ounce---

He stops that train of thought. He's been there too many times today alone. "Truth or dare," he says instead, and he finds he actually does feel a little more relaxed, a little more open, with the extra alcohol after all.

Sirius looks him in the eye. "truth."

If remus is shocked Sirius Take-the-Dare Black has picked truth, he doesn't show it, just holds the eye contact. "why don't you tell me anything anymore?"

Sirius answers immediately. "to keep you safe. Would you like truth or dare, Remus?"

Remus doesn't have time to even register he's saying it before his mouth opens automatically and "truth" comes out.

"Why don't you tell me anything anymore?"

And like before, Remus is answering before the thoughts even form in his head. "I'm scared. i'm scared i'm bad, i'll get you killed, i'll get you all killed, james and lily and harry and peter. we'll be next. and if i keep myself away from you, it's like, it's like i can protect you, or more, i can protect the idea of you. i could bear a lot but what i can't bear is losing who i thought you were." His mouth hangs open. a knot forms in his brow. "Sirius--"

"Ask me." Sirius' gaze is firm. unyielding. "Truth or dare."

Remus shakes his head, disoriented. "Sirius---" he tries again.

"Ask me." He shuffles up onto his knees, leans towards remus on all fours. A dog with a bone. "What do you really want to ask me, Remus?"

"Are you the spy?"

The answer is out of Sirius' mouth before Remus is even done asking.

"No. Are you the spy?"

Likewise, Remus' answer is immediate. "No."

and both their breaths are coming fast and shallow, and their hearts are roaring in their ears, and they just want to not be in their own heads for two goddamn seconds, and, well, Sirius was always the brave one---

"Do you want to kiss me?"

"Yes." Remus breathes. Just like that. 10 years of hiding this secret, from himself as well as everyone around him, and he gives it up. Just because Sirius Black asks.

Sirius' lip curls in triumph. He crawls closer, predator locking on his prey, and it's too hot and Remus is dizzy.

"Dare you," he whispers across his lips.

Sirius may be brave, but Remus has a kind of willpower that only comes with facing down the moon month after month.

"No."

Remus doesn't move to close the gap, but he doesn't move away either. Holds perfectly still, controlled, and the roles are reversed and the wolf is in charge and he's closing in on the dog--

"Not until you tell me, too."

---making him submit---

"Do you want want me the way i want you, Sirius Orion Black?"

Sirius' enthusiastic "yes" is more or less silent, as it's given to the press of Remus' lips.

OK HERE'S HOW THE SMUT GOES DOWN

They are going to take turns asking each other "do you want xyz?" and the other will say yes and then the other will say "dare you."

"Do you want to touch me?"

"yes."

"Dare you."

"Do you want to take off my shirt?"

"yes."

"Dare you."

"Do you want to put me on my back?" -"yes"- "open my legs?" -"yes"- undo my belt, pull down my fly? -"yes"- "reach your hand down my pants, touch my cock?" -"yes, yes"--

A beat, locked eyes, panting chests, kiss-swollen lips.

"Then I fucking dare you, Remus Lupin."

They take each other right there on the carpet, ten years' worth of hurt and love spilling out all over and inside of them.

And in Sirius' bedroom, tucked away where he keep his now-empty stash of alcohol--- an empty bottle of veritiserum.

#thank you for playing pretty non-non!#non-non #wip tag game #smut game #celine spills #celine's smut #wolfstar #wolfstar smut #wolfstar first war era #wolfstar get together #remus x sirius

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floralflorence · 11 months

Text

POV: "Baby, can I have my hoodie back? " "Can I have my virginity back?" "Technically that was Peanut."

Practice had been long and tiring, it always was in the dead of winter. Entering practice when it's just begun to lighten up then leaving with either an hour or so of daylight left or walking out to the sun already setting made the days seem to fly by. This meant the team were slow to shower and get ready to go home, everyone sluggish and cold and more than happy to stay in the room with underfloor heating and banter for a little while longer.

Reg was perched at his stall with a steaming mug of tea; he was fully dressed minus his shoes and coat and was laughing along to the chirps being batted back and forth around the room. He'd shrugged on the huge jumper he'd come dressed in and had stolen Finn's while he was in the shower too. Being half-nudist, Finn ran on his own temperature, always warm no matter the weather around them. The boys winced when he came in with nothing but a small towel (progress compared to the usual ass-naked they got on the day-to-day whenever he was done in the shower), getting cold just looking at him. Leo and Lo headed back into the changing room from the snack room carrying warm toast and hot chocolate. Leo was always pouty when it was cold, it forced him to miss the NOLA sun more than he already did - having Lo cuddled up to his side to warm him up definitely helped though.

"Fishcake, please put some clothes on before you get the mother of all colds," Leo asked with a laugh, pressing a kiss to Finn's shoulder as they walked past.

"Alright, alright. Just because it's you," Finn grinned at Leo's humoured eye roll at his teasing tone.

"Go on, Knut, got your boys in check," Halla hollered from the other side of the changing room.

"He holds sex hostage, of course he does," Reg laughed back, snorting into his tea at Halla's impressed look at his tactics.

After a minute, Finn had tugged on his boxers, sweats and tank he'd wore under his hoodie. He shuffled around his stall for a few moments before his eyes landed on Reg, who was holding up a wonderfully convincing facade of being totally innocent.

"Regie," he said with a smile at him, coming to lean his shoulder against the edge of his stall.

"Oui, mon amour?"

He raised an eyebrow at the low whisper of French that, more times than not, totally works if the goal was to distract Finn from whatever he was doing or saying.

"Not gonna work this time," he sing-songed. "I need my hoodie back, please and thank you."

"But I'm so cold," Reg pouted dramatically.

The cubs were all laughing at Finn's desperate attempts to persuade him to give him his hoodie through his laughs and smiles.

"Baby, can I have my hoodie back?" Finn asked, finally managing to compose himself and be semi-serious.

Reg titled his head up towards him and narrowed his eyes, setting his jaw stubbornly.

"Can I have my virginity back?"

"Oh!" came Sirius' startled noise from a few stalls away, looking wholly traumatised.

"Technically that was Peanut."

"Dude!" Sirius yelled at Finn with a chaotic waving gesture before he turned in the direction of the PT room. "Layla?!"

She peered round the door with a smile.

"Concussions cause memory loss right?"

Her eyebrows knitted together, totally confused at the random question.

"I- Wh- Yeah?"

Sirius jumped up, turned towards James and lowered his head like a bull about to charge.

"C'mon, Potts, hit me."

The whole team was cackling now, their captain's trauma serving as a good pick-me-up for everyone. James stood and sprinted at him, jumping and turning his shoulder towards him like he would hit him up the boards on the ice. Sirius caught him and they playfully shoved and wrestled with each other for several seconds, everyone yelling and cheering them on.

While everyone was distracted, Finn tried one last run at getting Regie to give him his hoodie.

"Right, I'll make you a deal. If you give me my hoodie now, I promise you won't need any clothes as soon as we get home."

With a final gulp of his tea, Reg popped his mug on his stall and stood, tugging the hoodie over his head.

"Deal." The hood was hanging from his fingertip as he reached to pass it to Finn. However, he pulled it back when Finn went to reach for it. "Seal it with a kiss."

Finn grinned at him, playfully tugging him in by his waist, dipping him in a dramatised yet soft kiss and shrugged his hoodie on once they were upright.

"C'mon, home time," Leo said, adjusting his sweats slightly. Ever the help, Lo had been quietly offering some ideas of what things they could be doing so Finn could keep his promise to Reg. He praised himself later on that evening for not driving the four of them into a ditch considering Reg and Lo insisted on getting some practice of those things in the backseat the entire ride home. Leo didn't think he'd ever been so glad they had tinted windows.

#lumosinlove #o'knutzy #o'knutzy x reg #lumosinlove ocs #hoodie stealing #lockeroom banter #finn ohara #logan tremblay #leo knut #regulus black

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hermionegalathynius · 1 year

Text

Sweet Sixteen (3/11)

As requested :)

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Warnings: mentions of family trauma (but then who doesn’t know Sirius’s tragic back story)

Main Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Y/n's alarm woke her up at eight.

It took the girl a few moments to turn it off and remember why she'd set it. By then she was sitting up in bed and rubbing her eyes, trying to resist the groan of dread that wanted to break free from her throat. Reluctantly, she got up and pulled back the drapes around her bed, silently crying in her head as her feet made contact with the cold floor. Her bare legs instantly pebbled with goosebumps as she pulled covers off of them and stood up.

While she was pulling her thickest, wooliest blue jumper and a pair of leggings on, she noticed how Sienna's drapes were still closed. Her friend was probably still asleep, the lucky basterd. Lacing up her sneakers, she went to the bathroom that branched out from the girl's dorm to brush her teeth and hair and put her usual layer of mascara on her lashes. Her make-up was never more elaborate than mascara and maybe some eyeliner. If she was going on a date, she might put some lip gloss on, but this wasn't a date. It wasn't even something worth the effort she was putting into her appearance. Her fuss over her smudged mascara was merely out of habit rather than actually caring what she looked like.

When she was finally done making herself look presentable for public, the girl trudged back to her bed and slung her bag over her shoulder before making her way down the stairs and out of Ravenclaw Tower.

The Great Hall was almost completely empty save for a few students who were early risers, unlike her. Sullenly, Y/n sat down at a random spot at the Ravenclaw table and dished herself a plate of scrambled eggs and toast. After a moment of hesitation, she also gave herself a huge helping of bacon and cheese along with a steaming cup of coffee. She was going to need it if she was supposed to spend the next three hours alone with Sirius Black.

Half an hour later she had finished off her breakfast and made her way to the Library. There was still thirty minutes until the tutoring session was supposed to start, so she made herself comfortable at one of the desks in a secluded corner and took out her book.

———

Sirius wasn't sure what to expect when he walked into the Library the following morning. He half hoped she wouldn't be there and he wouldn't have to try to talk to her. However, the other half of him hoped she would be there so he could finally develop some sort of relationship with the girl he had been staring at for six years. He could still remember the day he met her, which, unsurprisingly, was the day he started fancying her.

"Woah! I'm sorry!"

Sirius blinked down at the girl who had just barrelled into him, making him slam into the nearest compartment door and probably bruise his shoulder. He opened his mouth to tell her to 'watch where you're going' but cut himself off when she finally looked up at him.

She was very pretty. Sirius's heart did a little leap and he quickly tried to think of something to say that wouldn't make her hate him.

"Uh, that's okay. You can bump into me any day," he ended up saying, giving her a mischievous smirk.

She frowned slightly and backed up a few steps so that she wasn't right against him, "Um, thanks? I think..."

Sirius knew right then that what he'd said hadn't been much better than 'watch where your going', and he immediately wished he could take it back. Unfortunately, she was already walking away.

Not wanting to come off as a complete tosser, he quickly called after her, "Hey! What's you're name?"

She stopped and turned slightly, "Y/n L/n, and you?"

He resisted the urge to smile like an idiot at the sound of her name, "Sirius Black."

She gave him a small smile before turning back around and walking away.

That was the last time he'd ever had a proper conversation with her. Sirius had been so affected by this girl that every opportunity he had afterwards to talk to her and become her friend, he'd gotten too nervous and chickened out. James found it absolutely hilarious and even Remus teased him about the absence of his Gryffindor courage.

Now, here he was, standing in the shadows of the Library's bookshelves, staring at Y/n L/n as she read her book. The lesson was supposed to begin in five minutes. What would she do if he didn't work up the courage to talk to her before then? Would she just get up and walk away? Would she continue to read her book? Would she be totally unsurprised due to his reputation?

Sirius resisted the urge to sigh in frustration and give away his presence. It didn't help that she looked ridiculously cute in the oversized blue jumper, her hair down around her shoulders and brushing her midriff. He wanted to walk up to her and run his hands through it, let the scent of her floral shampoo fill his nose. He wanted to sit down next to her and pull her into his side. He wanted to press a kiss to the top of her head and bury his face in her shoulder. It was driving him insane. He had been with other girls before, but the only attraction there had been physical. And usually the only urge he ever got was to kiss them. When it came to Y/n... he wanted to do all those fluffy, couple-ey things that he usually made fun of. He wanted to talk to her for hours and get to know her. Her likes and dislikes. Her pet peeves and the things she couldn't live without. He wanted to hear all of her weird childhood stories and tease her about them. He wanted to tell her about his parents and his situation at home. He wanted her to know the real reason he'd dated so many girls. He wanted her to know the Sirius that only James and Remus knew. The Sirius who wasn't as happy and confident as he made other people think he was. But most of all, he wanted her to see all of that about him and still love him for it.

Checking his watch, Sirius realised that it was one minute till the lesson began and he was still standing there like a lovestruck fool. Taking a deep breath he strode out of the shelves and plonked himself down opposite her, plastering that all too familiar confidence-filled grin on his face.

"Good morning, L/n. I see you've been here a while."

Y/n's head shot up from where it had been practically buried in her book and her eyes snapped to his. They were the most vibrant shade of e/c he'd ever seen and it took his breath away.

"Black! If I'm being honest I didn't think you would show," she mused, marking her spot in the book and placing it on the table in front of her without looking—as if she'd done it a million times. Sirius's heart panged at her words as he internally cringed. So his reputation had given her a few expectations about him. Good to know.

"I couldn't leave a lovely girl like yourself waiting, now could I?" He flirted and winked.

Stop doing that! His mind screamed at him, Stop flirting with her! You look like an idiot!

She raised a brow at him and started getting out her books, "Flirting may get you places with the other girls around here, Sirius Black, but not with me. I expect you to work hard in these sessions so you can show some actual improvement. Professor Sikander is counting on me to bring up your grades and offered me extra credit if I do. So please cooperate and maybe these lessons will be over faster than you think."

Sirius plastered on a smirk to hide just how much her words had hurt him. Of course she wasn't doing this for him. Academics was what she lived for, wasn't it? It was stupid of him to think she might be doing this to simply save his grades. Even though Muggle Studies was the only subject he struggled in.

Sirius wasn't bad at academics. In fact, he was actually one of the top students in his grade. His teachers claimed that he was well on his way to becoming an Auror one day. However, having a failed subject on one's NEWT results wasn't something people at the Ministry ignored, even if it was Muggle Studies. Sometimes he wished he could drop the subject, but that wasn't allowed. The only reason he'd taken it in the first place was to piss off his parents even more. That had been the year before they kicked him out. Before he stopped caring about what they thought of him. Now he just wanted to forget about them, but this class was so anti-Black that it reminded him of them even more. Like it or not, they were still his parents and, deep down, he still wished they loved him as much as they loved Regulus.

Sirius wanted now, more than ever, to tell Y/n all of this.

Except he simply said, "Alright then, miss Ravenclaw. Teach me about muggles,"

Tag list:

@obscurilicious

@hphufflefan

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messervixen · 10 months

Text

The Marauders and people as things my Friends and I have said Part 2

Marlene (to James): You can tell all your other guy friends that a bunch of gay girls were putting flowers in your hair.

Alice: Give yourself a beard. Be normal.

Remus: Get in the chair.

Sirius: Cucumbers so sexy.

Pandora: Oh no, my fishbowl!

Alice: And Jesus would say “oh my god”.

Regulus: I’m not gonna let that happen because you’re not that amazing.

Barty: You’re the mentally insane version of your grandma.

Regulus: I am emotionally attached to this ruler.

Barty: I’m bored, let’s fry my goldfish.

Sirius: Don’t say the fuck word.

Mary: If I were a kidnapper, I would totally pick you.

Peter: I need my gummy bears so I can kill people.

Pandora: These poles are actually really good for pole dancing.

Sirius: This guy looks like he would hang out in a dumpster with me.

Marlene: That name is perfect for a gay bottom.

Barty: Broski was originated from the Russian president Taylor Swift.

Sirius: So I’m not like the pope…, I’m god.

James: Please stand up and hit the griddy for demonstration.

Sirius: I am a professional look good-er.

Marlene: Weird question, are you gay?

Regulus: The only animal I have in my house is my brother.

Pandora: Friends are like flowers. If you eat them, they die.

Remus: I want to get run over.

Marlene: He just wiggled like a gay man.

James: It’s not burnt, it’s just ripe.

Regulus: Go die.

Evan: Kids in the backseat cause accidents and accidents in the backseat cause kids.

Lily: Don’t body shame the thick bread.

Sirius: I’m not a British gay, I’m an American straight.

Marlene: Get gayed.

Sirius: My mom just made a very PG-13 word sequence.

Marlene: If you eat your child is that cannibalism or incest?

Lily: I’d be hot as a flower.

Evan: I’m technically not a virgin. In Hawaii a wave shot up my ass.

Regulus: Mommy I want a penis, why is it not growing?

Mary: Your butt is being used for the greater good.

Marlene: Do you think demons suck on toes?

Barty: Regulus is my sugar daddy.

James and Regulus in CR: I would have four kids with that man.

Sirius (About Remus): I would literally let him fuck me with a knife handle.

Dorcas: If there were no babies made then there’s nothing to feel guilty about.

Peter: Did you just call your own dad hot?

Sirius: My friends want me, mother.

Marlene: You can tell he’s gay by the way he looks out that window.

James: Nothing gets kinkier than a knife.

Regulus: Apparently I’m running from the trauma of my past.

Sirius: What you did to me on that table is going to leave some bruises.

Frank: Okay we are not raping a dead body.

Barty: I’ll take it as payment.

Peter: Do you have a knee caressing fetish?

Regulus in CR: Oh my god he has a sexy axe.

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shipsgaysfordays · 1 year

Text

Talk. Talk. Talk. (Sirius and Remus POV)

Links to the other chapters here

On the way to finishing this story (a bit over halfway through), tbh I had other plans for this chapter in my outline but as the title suggests: the characters needed to talk. They took the reigns from me and said WE NEED TO TALK THIS THROUGH, so that’s what this chapter is.

The next chapter will likely be more of what I originally planned for this one.

CW: Panic attack, talking about recent violence/trauma, toxic overdependent romantic relationships

Also, fuck JKR and all her terf antisemitic racist rhetoric!

Y’all are valid, y’all are beautiful, I love you.

Onto the angst.

Sirius POV (Sorta gets away from them at some points though tbh):

Lily held Mary up against the fridge, and snogged her.

Sirius’ eyes widened, it made sense given all the everything that zey had found out when talking to Lily and James, but…I mean, damn, good for them.

Sirius glances over to Remus, what were we doing here? Their hot red choked up face, still in shock at the women, began coughing again. Water.

Ze lifted Remus’ arm, and slided past him, sauntering over to the occupied women. “Excuse me,” zhe tapped on Lily’s shoulder.

Mary caught her breath as Lily stepped back and turned her head 90 degrees to face zem, “Sirius Black, you of all people better not be pussy blocking me.”

“Well I’m sorry mate, but I happen to have not been invited into this lovely house many times and my…um…..well, Moony here needs some water.”

As that interaction had been going on, Remus and Mary stared at each other across the room, Remus being unreadable despite trying to calm/choke down his coughs, and Mary with all the joy quickly draining from her face and looking as though she’s seeing death incarnate in the doorway of the kitchen.

Sirius was still staring at the green eyes, trying to get a water cup from the far too distracted woman, they’re sick dammit, just let us get some water!

“Moony’s inside!” Lily gasps in shock.

Mary’s eyes stayed on Remus, as if afraid a sudden movement might cause something horrid, still she provided Lily with the information via saying through gritted teeth, “Right. Across. The. Room.”

Lily turned her head, Remus gave a small shy wave. The type he used to give when they were kids, when they greeted across the train, when they found each other’s eyes across a strange room filled with loud people, when things were simple.

“Remus…” Lily seemed to let go of breath she didn’t even know she was holding, not sure HOW she held some of her breath in between all the smooching, Sirius thought.

With a hoarse voice, Moony let out a, “I didn’t mean to–” cough, “-intrude.”

“Don’t be all embarrassed about it, they’ll have all the time in the world to snog, you need water, we’ll get you water,” Sirius turned to the homeowner with a hand on zer hip, “where are the cups flower girl?”

Lily walked to a cabinet as the water finally made that high pitch boiling sound. Pouring the water into a cup, unaware of the sound. The loud. Whistling, whirling around Sirius’ head, banging and banging, screaming, shrieking…almost like…. No, not her, not here. Not them. No, no, no. SCREEEECH. GET OUT OF MY HEAD, LEAVE ME. LEAVE ME. SCREECH, like birds, the sound of a million birds surrounding him, still zey couldn’t help thinking of the screams instead. Their cousin. Their mom. Let me be, tears started.

Sirius’ hands were over his ears, they were breathing as quickly as a ceiling fan moves, letting out increasingly louder noises of distress. Even after the boiling water was put into the teapots and the sound disappeared, she still sat in panic.

Remus looked down at the man, down and away and back and away, eyes moving as a metronome. Unable to focus as panic set in to their…their…..

Mary leaned down next to zim, a delicate hand moving circles around their back, breathing deeply in a way that made one question whether she was trying to influence Sirius or simply keep cool herself. “It will be okay, it will be okay, you’re safe,” she spoke low, these seemingly well practiced simple words. For a split second, hoping Sirius wouldn’t notice, she turned to face Remus and said, “You should go, give zem space.” While she thought she was being discreet, being kind to both Remus and Sirius, Remus’ eyes bore into her just as her words cut into him.

As Lily heard the words her brow furrowed, she filled a cup with water and strided across the room to give it to Remus. Remus turned to leave but stopped a moment as he found steps following after them. Lily was trailing behind.

Once they got out of the room Mary could hear a muffled, “She didn’t mean.”

“I know what she meant.”

Sirius opened their eyes, zer screaming stopped. For a few minutes it was just quiet staring at the tiles. Little bits of dust that had gotten caught in between them over the months and years. Cracks on some. Some smooth. Just staring. Until…”Moony,” the word slipped off zer tongue so simply, eyes darting around the room, “Moony?”

“You’re safe,” Mary held zis hand as if that was a response to the question, the you’re safe making it seem condescending that Moony was, in fact, not here. Where’s Moony? Sirius wondered again, are they safe? Why did they leave?

“The loud…but, I’m…..it’s fine now, it’s better. Where’s…where’s Moony?”

Mary sighed, “They went out, Lily gave them some water and they went out together.”

“No, no, we need to go get them. They’ll, they’ll leave again,” panic rose in his voice.

“Let’s just stay here for a minute, Lily and James can deal with it, let’s just stay here. Let me get you some water,” Mary looked to her as she got up, zey stayed on the ground like a bird with a broken wing, desperate to leave and find their flock, but needing to reluctantly stay.

After giving him the water, Mary decided to finally do it, finally address the elephant in the room (no, not the picture of an elephant Harry had drawn). Sirius took a sip, and because she didn’t want to deal with any choking, Mary waited until he swallowed the drink.

“Sirius…” she started, she was staring at it, the bandages on zer neck. They hadn’t been there before she had met Remus again, Mary was pretty certain.

“What?”

“What happened to your neck?”

Sirius drew their hand to zer neck, as if covering it would make it disappear, make the question go away, undo the damage that had been done. “It’s…it’s nothing, I was just being an idiot.”

“Sirius, what happened to your neck?”

Zis eyes went glossy. “They didn’t mean to…”

Mary held him. No, no, Remus couldn’t. But he could, they really could. “I know you won’t want to hear this-” Mary started.

“Mary,” Sirius speaks, trying to stop her from whatever would come next.

“Moony needs to go, it’s unsafe for you, it’s unsafe for them. Let them go.”

“No.”

“This isn’t healthy for you,” Mary pleads.

“I don’t care.”

“Sirius, this is your life, he tried to…”

“I don’t care, I need him, and some part…some part of them needs me,” Sirius speaks with the force of a battery ram.

Mary stares at them, the first person she’s been closest to in a long time, since Remus became distant, maybe even since Marlene–“Just, give it time, think about it.”

“What do you know?!? What the hell do you know about us? Remus hasn’t talked to you in months! I’ve been in that….hellhole for YEARS! This is my life, I’LL SPEND IT WITH THE MAN I LOVE!”

“Just think about it, Remus is broken and I know you want to fix them and coddle them but just because they’ve been through shit, it doesn’t mean you need to forgive them for this.”

Wolf howling echoed in her mind, “They forgave me.”

“That’s not–”

“They forgave me.”

“You were young and dumb.”

“And he was neurotic and confused, now that we’ve come to this agreement, I’d like to get up and see if Moony’s still here or if he left, again, because of this.”

Remus POV:

“She didn’t mean,” Lily looked back to the door.

“I know what she meant.” Remus knew when it was time to leave, they saw all the signs around, he saw the fear in Mary’s eyes, the anger in her voice.

“Just–” Lily sounded frantic, “don’t go just because of…of some bad things, stay here, just stay. Zey’ll calm down, he always does and then…..”

“And then what?!?” Remus screamed, “You know what, I don’t want to know, I shouldn’t have, I shouldn’t….”

As he started making a break for it, Lily grabbed their arm and dragged them to the nearest room, a home library. Vast amounts of books, piles upon piles on the rows and rows of wooden shelves, so they’re THAT kind of rich, Remus thought.

“Muffliato. Okay,” Lily claps her hands, “scream, throw your tantrum.”

“I need to go…”

“Scream, throw your tantrum, or I’ll do it myself,” she smiled that snarky serious smile, she set the challenge and she would succeed in it.

“In a library?” Remus makes a face as he looks around the shelves, eyeing books they always meant to getting around to read, “It feels so…wrong.”

“It’s liberating,” she smiled of experience and looked around, “for example, WHY ARE YOU SO INSISTENT ON LEAVING WHEN ALL OF US WANT YOU HERE? YOU’RE OUR FRIEND WE JUST WANT TO HELP!”

“Because…” Lily made a face as Remus spoke.

He raised his voice, “BECAUSE NOT ALL OF YOU WANT ME HERE, MARY HATES ME AND SIRIUS SHOULD HATE ME!”

“But zey don’t, and Mary–well Mary needs some time but eventually she’ll come around.”

“I LEFT HER ALL ALONE!”

“SO DID I, so did James, WE’RE IN THE SAME BOAT, STOP ACTING LIKE YOU’RE A SOLO SAILOR!”

Remus coughed and sipped on his water, looking off, they spoke, “...I left her all alone when you guys were dead and we were the only two left.”

“And it might take a lot of time, but you can try to become a part of her life again. You can change into the dependable person that she may still need.”

“I need to go,” Remus insisted.

“Why?”

“I NEED TO GO! LEAVE ME ALONE!”

“NO, BECAUSE YOU ALWAYS DO THIS, YOU SHUT THE WHOLE WORLD OUT AND RUN AWAY! AND…and for a bit of alone time, that’s fine,” Lily reassured, “but you need to deal with what’s happening around you right now. I'm sorry Moony, but you can’t go on ignoring it all and leaving. Sirius needs you, Mary needs you, and you need to figure yourself out again.”

“I don’t know where to start.”

“No one does. Consider yourself: who you were, who you are now, who you want to be–and try your might to mix them. Nothing will ever be perfect because there’s always pieces that you’ll strive for that can’t be attained yet, or things that fall away over time, but first you need to try to get better. If not for yourself then at least for the people who love you.”

Remus sat down and put his head in his hands, “I don’t know what being a better man even looks like anymore.”

“You do and you know it, you’re being ridiculous.” Only she could so clearly call them out on their bullshit.

“Okay…I can’t word things perfectly every time. I don’t know how to be what they want.”

“Then don’t be, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t improve yourself.”

Remus’ stomach rumbled, rudely interrupting the introspective conversation, though he felt a tinge of relief to have an excuse for getting out of it.

“Oh shit, what time is it?” Lily looked to the nearest clock, “Shit! I should have started dinner ages ago,” as she started rushing out the room she turned back to Remus and pointed to them, “don’t think we won’t pick up this conversation again young man.”

Remus raised an eyebrow, “Young man? Okay, grandma. Can I help with any of the….food stuff?”

“I don’t find it promising for you to try cooking since you just called it food stuff, and um…I just…to be frank–”

“Hi Frank!” Remus waved, Lily flipped him off.

“I just don’t think it’s best for you to be…aroundsharpobjects.”

Remus nodded, their mouth in a line, “I guess I’ll leave it to you then, and I guess it’s time I figure things out with the others…”

They stepped out of the silencing spell to find James talking to Harry around the corner, “Remember, when things get very quiet in the library, that means Mummy wants some alone time.”

“But pizza,” the child pleaded.

Remus turned to Lily and her eyes lit up.

“Pizza?” she asked as she walked over to her son and husband but not husband given the…everything earlier with Mary.

“We were thinking that since all this conversation and chit chat is taking so long, maybe we should order a pizza for dinner instead of cooking.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Lily smiled.

“Good you agree because I already ordered it and it should be here soon.”

“I’m sorry but, you guys live in the middle of nowhere, how’s it going to get here sooner than us just cooking?” Remus butted it.

“Magic” James wiggled his fingers around as he did a little sunrise sorta gesture with his hand.

#the marauders #marauders era #marauders fic #marauders fanfiction #marauders long fic #Wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar #wolfstar fic #toxic wolfstar #wolfstar angst #wolfstar fanfic #marylily #marylily fic #they're not the main focus but they're definitely more than just a background ship #lily evans #mary macdonald #james potter #remus lupin #sirius black

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