#marauders era fan fiction

[aeaean--bliss]

the madonna | chapter one: arrival

summary: It's 1985. The English countryside swells with the day's remains of midsummer heat as you make your way towards the gate, longs strands of grass nipping at your calves.

It's a good time to get away. Old and distant family friends have taken you in against your wildest imagination, following torturous personal circumstances and a recent mental breakdown. Here, where you can live with purpose among people who care about you, you can slowly begin to rest and recover in the secluded privacy of the Burrow.

Now would be a really bad time for you to run into the most traumatic ex-fling of your life, wouldn't it?

pairing: remus lupin x reader

genre: non-magic!AU; farmhand remus!AU

word count: 4k

warnings/tags: blood, injury, mental breakdown, mental health issues (mostly anxiety and depression), shitty parents, alcohol consumption, drunkenness, swearing, mentions of violence, orphanhood, smut (eventually), a lot of self-deprecation, tension, pining, arguing, etc.

author's note: minors DNI! please read the warnings. this series is taking all i have to write, and a lot of it is just me projecting. i hope it resonates with at least some of you.

chapter index

masterlist

chapter one | arrival

The night’s a dewy one; wet and almost, almost , cold, with a fog that hangs heavy around your head.

“Y/N. So good to see you, love.”

She means well. The sincerity in her eyes and the warmth in her smile tells you as much. But there’s something in her voice that sounds a little too much like pity. Her clammy palm cups your cheek, adding to the itchy layer of grime that seems to coat every inch of your skin. 

Still, you smile. 

“Molly.”

She shoves a cup into your hands. She’s gone before you have a chance to thank her. 

Can’t stand this English Breakfast shit.

Placing the cup on the mantle, you wrap an arm around the waist of each twin in the armchair and lift them up before settling in yourself. 

Every joint in your body aches. Your wrists feel weak, like half the blood has drained from your body. The headache that’s been brewing since you got on the train this morning threatens to spark up again, pounding dully against your skull like a speaker pumping underwater. 

It’s just the travel. Travel, and inhaling shit air, and eating shit food, and being all cramped up. You’re not even sure you ate. Hard to tell when each day bleeds into the next and time goes by a million miles an hour and not at all. 

Small feet and hands dig into the flesh of your thighs and stomach. The twins settle either side of your waist, gurgling and babbling to themselves. You sit in silence, staring at a patch of carpet, restless nails picking at frayed threads on the tattered armrest. Someone enters the room, voices speak, but it all sounds muffled. It isn’t until Molly pushes a saucer of biscuits under your nose that you come to, blinking heavily and mumbling disjointedly.

“Thank you.”

Molly glances at the clock on the wall. It’s got nine hands, one for Molly, one for Arthur, and one for each of the children. Does she keep a stack of them in a drawer somewhere, to add one on whenever a new one comes along?

“It’s getting late,” she mutters. 

Is it?

The thought that you might be keeping them up gnaws at you. You’re about to offer to retire for the evening, to apologise and head off, when Arthur stands. He hums, brows furrowed as though in deep thought, and shuffles into the hallway. As the air grows heavy with silence, your gaze rests back on Molly. 

“You know, I might just…”

The words die on your lips. They must have barely been audible, anyway, judging by Molly’s lack of reaction.

The odd child meanders into the room as you wait for Arthur to return. Bill’s at that age where you pretend you’re an adult, unsurprised and unscared. He barely spares you a second glance as he steps over to his mother, asking for the whereabouts of his book on Britain’s Most Dangerous Deepwater Sea-Creatures. 

Charlie’s not quite there yet, lingering in the hallway and peeking around the doorframe with wide eyes and a long, floppy, pink tongue. It’s the toy in his hands that catches your eye, a bright green dragon with blue spikes and huge eyes. He holds it around its neck so tight it might just pop off. 

You beckon him over. His eyes dart to his mother, then back to you, then back to his mother. Then he steels himself and tiptoes towards you.

“Y/N.”

He blinks. He looks like he’s going to chicken out and back away. 

You pull your hand away from the mouth of a teething George, wiping his saliva off on your sleeve and reaching behind your head. Lifting one of the many pendants from around your neck, you slip the chain onto your finger and hold it out to the seven year old in front of you.

“It’s yours, if you want it,” you say softly.

He eyes it timidly, looking up at you, then down at the pendant, then up at you, then back down at the pendant. The pendant’s a photo coin you bought at a museum gift shop when you were young; it’s got a celtic dragon pressed into its centre and waves decorating the rim.

“Take it,” you whisper. 

He smiles shyly, before snatching the chain with clumsy hands and shuffling away, not taking his eyes off of it for a second. The movement excites the twins, who squeal, and giggle, and squirm in your arms. One of them accidentally slaps you in the face. The other tries to shove their hand in your face, getting their hand stuck in your necklaces. 

“Come here,” you sigh, taking the soft, small, pudgy hand in yours to ease it out of the knot of chains. 

Four heavy knocks pound somewhere in the distance. 

The chains have gotten caught up in your hair, now. The child tugs, and you lurch, dangerously close to getting your fingers tangled up in the mess. 

A door slams in the distance. The bairn pulls his hand back, threatening to take a chunk of your scalp out with it. You grab hold of his hand again, murmuring for him to keep still, to relax, to stop pulling-

Then, from the doorway, with a kind lilt and a Yorkshire accent that makes your blood run cold as ice, comes a soft, deep voice, and surely you must be ill. Surely, you must have caught some fatal, delayed-onset disease, because the fever that burns at your skin, rippling in waves and numbing your wrists, is anything short of natural.

It hurts. It actually hurts. 

“Where’d you like ‘em, Molly?”

You might pass out. Jesus, you can hear your heartbeat squelching in your ears. You can vaguely hear Molly fussing about the time and we were beginning to think you weren’t coming back tonight and- 

Back? 

Soft, small hands slap at your wrists when they notice your attention has drifted. 

What does she mean, back? 

You’re still trying to untangle the knot in your hair, fingertips trying and failing to set you free. You can just about see the lower half of him where you sit, hunched over, with toddler spit trailing down your forearm and a fist in your hair. You can see the way his shirt sleeves have been rolled up to his elbows; see the sprigs of some kind of plant poking out from the handles of one of the plastic bags in his hands. 

He’s grown. Lived. Thrived, even, by the looks of things. 

It’s the smallest thing, but it fucks with your head. You haven’t grown, or lived, or thrived at all. You’re small. Ratty. Shrivelled, even, by the looks of things. 

As you finally detangle the child’s fingers from your hair, you get a proper look at him. He looks like he has friends. But not like he has to make any effort to keep them. Not even that; like it’s effortless for him to keep them. Like he’s got that kind of quiet magnetism. He looks like the type of guy someone else randomly brings to a night out and every friend of a friend tries to chat him up. Like he barely needs to say a word, but everyone still knows who he is and greets him when they see him.

What must he see when he looks at you? 

You feel sick.

You can see the exact moment he sees you because he frowns and cocks his head to the side. He says nothing as Molly’s fusses, eyes fixed on you with his lips barely parted, head half-turned to the side like it wants to tear away but can’t seem to force itself.

You’ve been sat by the fire too long; your face burns from it. Why they’ve lit a fire in mid-june is beyond you. 

“Now,” Molly says, waving you over, “Arthur’s set everything up for you, dear, though I’ve got to warn you, it’s no luxury hotel. That room’s barely been touched since there were farmers here, and that’s about fifty years ago, now…”

When did Arthur come back in?

“And Gideon told you about the plumbing, and the-”

“Yes,” you interject, heart beating in your throat, now, “Yes, thank you. Really, Molly, thank you so much. For everything.”

She carries on, turning to Remus. You feel lightheaded; so lightheaded, and it’s been such a long day and you’re exhausted, and she’s asked you something now, she’s actually asked you something and you can see her lips moving but you can’t hear a thing. 

“Sorry,” you say suddenly. “I’m just- I’m very tired. Could I maybe…?”

Is your voice really loud?

“Of course, dear,” Molly says, prying Arthur’s cup out of his hands. “You must be exhausted, all that travel. Here, Remus’ll walk you down, he’s staying in the other room. It’s no more than fifteen, twenty minutes down the road - will you manage?”

“Yes, I-,” you say, “that’s fine.”

“You’re more than welcome to stay here for the night if you like,” Arthur offers, insistently. “I wouldn’t want you walking down to that old shack at this hour of the night, why don’t-”

“She’s a grown woman, dear,” Molly fusses, reaching over to take Remus’ cup. 

When’d she find time to give him that?

They shoo the boys out and suddenly, in a heartbeat, the room is almost completely empty. 

Time slows way down, with a force that leaves your stomach surging like you’re on a plane taking a dive. This is the split second where Remus’ nonchalant facade breaks, when he first gets a good, up-close look at your face. Where he gets this look, this far-out and distanced look in his eyes, but you can’t make out what it is. And then it flashes before your eyes, dark and pained and sharp and twisted and it’s like you’ve both tapped into the same frequency for the millisecond it takes for the memory to flicker in front of your mind’s eye. 

Can he see the way your eyes gloss over?

“Remus, dear,” Molly’s voice tuts from behind him, “Would you mind? You’re just in the way, love.”

He doesn’t answer, eyes - not wide in surprise like yours, but narrowed; narrowed, unblinking, and concentrated. It fills your stomach with dread. Anything neutral in his surprise has melted away now that he’s had a moment to think and recollect. His forearms flex as he shifts the plastic bag in his hands to readjust the weight, head almost entirely cocked to the side as he stares at you, brows furrowed in something nearing anger and lips parted ever so slightly, like he might want to think about saying something but can’t quite decide what to say.

Surely they must have told him you’d be here?

“Remus?”

He almost jumps then, blinking and tearing his gaze away from you.

“‘course, Molly.”

His voice echoes in the room after he turns to let her through.

“Here,” Molly says, pulling the bag from your hands before you have a chance to hold on, “Remus’ll take that.”

Remus lets out what you can only describe as an affirmative grunt, just about polite enough for it not to be rude in front of Molly, grabbing your duffel by the strap and swinging it onto his shoulder. He’s gone out the door before you can say another word. 

You press a forced smile onto your lips and move to follow.

“What time will you be back tomorrow, dear?”

Molly’s unassuming tone chips away at you for reasons you can’t explain. 

“Not too late, Molly,” you mumble, tearing your eyes away from his back, flashing her what you hope looks like a tired but genuine smile and heading for the door, “Not too late.”

The old farmhouse down the lane from the Burrow is surrounded by overgrown weeds and old rubber tires. Some of the tires are as wide as you are tall, stacked on top of each other with tufts of green and yellow poking through the gaps in the threads.

The walk itself is less than quiet. He stalks in front of you, never closer than about six feet. Doesn’t even look back to check if you’re in tow. Though to be fair, besides actively diving into the brambles and brush that outline the lane, there’s not really anywhere you could go.

Bare wooden planks cover the floors, worn down from decades of use. There’s a simple, wood-burning stove in the corner of the front room, surrounded by stone walls. There are two doors on the back wall, one on the right, and one on the left. Two doors, two bedrooms. 

Two tenants , you remind yourself. 

This is where you live, now. On Gideon’s request, Molly and Arthur have been generous enough to let you stay here free of charge. It’s hard to pay rent when you can’t work. No one’s supposed to know you’re here, either, outside the Prewett-Weasleys.

And Remus Lupin, apparently. 

What the fuck is he doing here? You’ve not heard a word from or about him in years, literal years, and up he pops, like a jack-in-the-box. It’s knocked you for six; you drag your bag across the wooden floor into the room he didn’t stalk into and and sit down on the mattress, and then you just… sit there, staring out into the darkness until your eyes grow used to it and you can begin to see the outline of the handles on the dresser drawers on the opposite side of the room. 

Don’t even know how long it takes you to move, strip, and shuffle under the covers, but by the time you do, your joints are stiff and sore and the first signs of daybreak have begun to push through the thinly woven fabric of the curtains.

Remus must be long gone by the time you wake. It’s unsurprising; judging by how bright the sun is, you’re guessing you’ve slept in. You have a vague memory of almost waking a few hours ago and hearing the sound of rushing water outside. Gideon had mentioned that there wasn’t any indoor plumbing, but the way your nightclothes stick to your skin makes the thought of dousing yourself in a bucket of cold water outside a heavenly fantasy come to life. 

There’s no way to get lost on your way back to the Burrow; the farmhouse is at the end of a dead end, so your feet move on auto pilot. 

There’s shouting in the halls as you step through the open back door, echoing up the stairwells. Moving through the kitchen in shoes you probably should take off, you stick your head through the doorway and almost trip over the two tiny streaks of ginger that run into you as they head around the corner. They land on their bottoms and freeze to a halt with big, brown eyes that peer up at you and just look up, and up, and up until they reach your face. 

You tower over them, a ghastly vision with matted hair and sunken eyes, skin gaunt and discoloured. Moments tick by before you bend down to reach both hands out, one in the direction of either bairn. They blink.

You wiggle your fingers when the bairns don’t move, and something clicks behind their eyes as they heave themselves onto their feet and reach for your hands. Each twin grips two of your fingers tightly as you lead them down the hall, stooped low as they waddle along the tattered carpet in their nappies. You lead the boys through the doorway first, shuffling after them.

Molly stands behind an ironing board, one hand wrapped around a small bundle, the other resting on top of a nearby dresser. Her head darts up when she hears footsteps shuffling along the carpet. 

“Think these belong to you.”

The boys have taken a liking to you. You can’t imagine why. They cling onto your legs the minute you step into the open kitchen door and babble a thousand innocent questions in your direction without cessation.

It’s good. Idle hands make great feeding grounds for nervous breakdowns.

Molly’s got you peeling potatoes by the time Arthur and Remus get back. He’s working as a sort of farmhand, you’ve learned. Though the Weasleys aren’t really farmers, so you’re not sure how that works. But Arthur’s always fancied himself quite the handyman, so odds are he’s got things brewing. Plenty of farmers around these parts anyway, bound to be plenty of work to be done. 

The spuds rest in a net bag in front of you, a muddy brownish colour with green and yellow eyes poking through the gaps in the mesh. Molly’s upstairs trying to give the children a bath. Judging by the shrieks and howls echoing down the stairwell, it’s not going very well.

Molly’s left some record on, some woman warbling out of tune on a track that is ninety-five per cent harp. It’s got you dissociating, hands moving without thought, carving strips of potato skins onto a board in a steady rhythm. Tuber after tuber gets tossed into the pot. The ever-lasting scent of manure from the nearby fields doesn’t agree with your insides yet, and you can taste the bile on your tongue as the smell of starch and water from the skins hit your nose. 

Midsummer months bring heavy air, slick with sweetness and humidity and the type of heat that makes your clothes stick to every crevice and plane of you with sweat. You thought it was just you; just a summer’s day of physical labour in a house with terrible ventilation, but the air that hit your cheeks as you stuck your head out of a window in the stairwell was even warmer than the stale air inside. Right now, in the late evening when the fever breaks and a cool shade begins to descend over the fields, it feels like being let out of a car that’s been left in the sun for too long. Flesh on your cheeks, arms, and legs burning and swollen with warmth, you heave the back door open and inhale deeply through the nose, hand resting on the handle of the door to ground you. 

There’s that smell in the air that you only get in warm, humid places. It settles in your belly and calms your nausea. The bugs don’t even cross your mind. Bugs be damned. The setting sun is painting streaks of orange and pink over the cloudy skies. It feels like a dream, something not quite real, after months of being unable to feel your fingers and toes from piercing frost. For a moment, you feel like the sun could swallow you whole, pick you up and lift you and bring you in on yourself. You’re not sure how long you linger in the doorway; could be a minute, could be half an hour.

Your chores beckon, and you move to sit at the kitchen table. The soft strumming of the harp in the background seems less intrusive now; maybe it’s because the singer hasn’t sung a note in a minute. The pot begins to fill slowly, and your fingers begin to prune. A bead of sweat trickles down your temple but disappears before it can reach your cheek.

“Thought I might find you here.”

Shit. You suck in a sharp breath, droplets of crimson trickling down the crease of your thumb. You stick the throbbing digit in your mouth, wincing at the starch residue from the skins. 

From the corner of your eye, you see him pull a tissue out from a nearby box on the counter. You almost trip on your skirts as you lurch to your feet to grab the handles and heave the pot of potatoes onto the hob, threatening to slosh water all over the chipped tiles in your haste to avoid him trying to give it to you. But he lingers after you, coming up to lean against the counter beside you. 

He’s trying. Somewhere, deep down, you know he’s trying. The fact that he’s even talking to you is something, let alone the tissue hanging limply in his outstretched hand. But you can’t find it in you to pretend that you’re in the mood. Maybe you’re overtired. Maybe… maybe it’s something else. You yank the tissue out of his grasp unceremoniously, avoiding looking at his face and pressing it to your skin after rinsing it in the sink.

“So,” Remus says slowly, quietly feigning nonchalance as you wrap the tissue around your thumb, “what are you doing here, then?”

When he talks, it’s like he’s trying not to speak too loud. Everything sounds like it’s being murmured in your ear. You half expect to feel his breath on your neck. You remind yourself that he’s got some nerve talking to you in the first place. You purse your lips.

“What are you doing here?”

Something changes in Remus’ eyes, then. It’s like you’ve broken some sort of ice.

“If I’ve done something to offend you,” he begins, eyeing you with calculated caution. Like he’s testing the waters. “Or said something…”

“Then I’ll know you haven’t changed,” you supply. 

You can feel his eyes on you as you turn to the kitchen table and he moves, but he doesn’t follow you, instead lingering in the open space of the kitchen floor. He watches as you scrape peelings into the half-full bucket near the stove and grab its handle, almost yanking it off with the force of it. He makes a point of dipping his head slightly and cocking it to the side as you dry your hands aggressively with a fraying kitchen towel so as to better look you straight in the eye. He keeps his eyes on you unapologetically as you pass him, pushing through to the back door to make your way to the garden. 

You can’t tell if he follows you out. You don’t want to turn around to look. You stalk towards the compost heap on the far side of the field, a shabby thing held up by rotting planks of wood, poorly nailed together. Must be Arthur’s handiwork. Everything he lays his hands on begins to tear at the seams as soon as he’s done. He’s got a copy of some DIY manual from 1958 proudly displayed in the sitting room; its spine has almost fully disintegrated and the letters on the front have faded from years opposite a south-facing window, but it remains surrounded by trinkets and charms like a holy book on the mantelpiece. 

Gnats buzz around your ears. You slop the contents of the bucket onto the growing heap and turn, all too quickly, and nearly jump out of your skin when you see him directly in front of you. The bucket clatters dully against the grass as only plastic can, hitting the ground with the edge of its curved lip and bouncing off behind him. 

“Heard you’re living here, now. Permanently”

“Hearing all sorts of things, you are,” you mutter, almost out of breath as you push past him again and stoop to retrieve the bucket. 

He beats you to it, snatching it just out of your reach.

“Something about you needing to get away from something?”

“What do you care.”

Swipe. Miss. 

“Of course I care,” he drawls, walking backwards with quick, hurried steps to stay ahead of you as you move to lunge for the bucket. “What, your folks finally given up on ya?”

“Well you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

It’s a nasty thing to say. It’s really nasty. So nasty it makes you feel repulsed that you could even formulate such a thought, let alone choose to say it out loud. Because he was at least partly joking, and there’s no way you can spin it so you don’t look like a horrible, horrible person. His feet stumble as his expression falls, face becoming slack. And in that moment he looks every bit the beautiful, tormented twenty-five year old he is. Golden, freckled skin glows in the setting sun; bright green eyes pained and beaten.

Then he pulls himself together. 

“See you haven’t changed either.”

That’s a bit uncalled for. You’ve never had a go at him because of his parents before, and you don’t appreciate the insinuation. It causes you physical pain that he clocked you on the first try, though. It annoys you. Why is he pretending he knows anything about you? Your skin begins to burn again, and your eyes threaten to puff up like you’ve been stung. 

You snatch the bucket out of his hands and stalk back to the main house. 

He doesn’t follow you back in.

© @aeaean–bliss​; do not copy, repost or translate any of my works.

#marauders era fan fiction #remus lupin x reader #remus x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin fan fiction #marauders #hp universe #fan fiction #the madonna #remus lupin imagines #aeaean--bliss

[fictive-fodder]

Congratulations on 100 followers!!! You deserve many many more <3 I was hoping you could write Painting Remus with "3 - things you didn't say at all" I'm in love with how you write him, thank you for being amazing!

I’m celebrating gaining 100 followers! Click here for the details!

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Hi! I’m glad you liked Painting because I’m taking advantage of your request to write….probably the angstiest thing I’ve ever written. I couldn’t fit in the story because the painter wasn’t there for this moment, but readers of Harry Potter were never given an explanation for what made Remus and Sirius stop trusting each other during the first wizarding war, and I’ve decided that the catalyst for their mistrust in one another was the letter Sirius sent to the painter after death eaters destroyed their muggle family. Sorry if you weren’t looking for angst, but here comes a tall order for it.

I feel like most of my fight scenes have been a little underwhelming, so I hope this one… whelms :D

You had been trying to sleep when you heard the sound of someone apparating. Adrenaline filled you as you jumped up, Sirius's letter in one hand, your wand in the other. Your best guess was that it has been four days since you had apparated into James and Lily's home. You were still wearing the same clothes, as you hadn't had anything else.

It was Remus.

You felt yourself go limp with relief at the sight of him. "Remus-" You breathed, taking a step closer. At first, Remus' expression mirrored yours, but as you stepped close he raised his wand towards you.

"What creature unlocked your door at Hogwarts?" He asked, voice low.

"What?" You drew back, eyes wide.

"Answer me!" Remus hissed, tightening his grip on his wand.

"Um- A, a rabbit? A little jack rabbit on the ring?" Your voice shook. It had been 6 months since you had last seen him but what startled you more was having never seen Remus look so intense. You had never before noticed how easily he could fill a room when utilizing his full height, how much space he could control.

Remus lowered his wand with a relieved sigh. He closed the distance between the two of you and pulled you into a tight embrace. Your mind was a mix of relief and despair, so grateful for the comfort while constantly being reminded of what had happened.

"Where are we going?" You asked, looking up at him.

Remus's face softened momentarily. You felt his hand come up to hold your jaw. He looked into your eyes, frowning slightly, before his gaze fell to the letter in your hand. "What is that?"

"Sirius wrote me." You replied, gripping the letter tighter. "To let me know that I should expect someone soon."

"Sirius?" Remus repeated, his voice hardening. He looked as if he was about to ask something more, but thought better of it and turned to the wall behind him. "Alice, Frank!" He called out, tapping his wand on the wall. "We're ready."

At the tap of Remus' wand, an archway appeared, opening the wall up to the living space you had heard around you the last four days. A man and a woman were on the other side, looking at you with a mix of sternness and sympathy.

"C'mon then-" Alice said, gesturing over to her fireplace. Frank was grabbing a bag of floo powder.

Bewildered, you obliged. "Where-?" You asked again, voice shaking.

"Don't worry." Remus assured, "Peter is going to take you in for now. Alice is going to make sure you get there."

You turned back to Remus, eyes stinging. "You're not coming?"

You noticed that while Remus' expression was stoic, his chest was noticeably rising and falling with his breaths. "No." He started. There was a pause, in which Remus glanced at Alice and Frank while he thought of how to explain. It seemed as if it was becoming harder for Remus to look you in the eyes.

"What Remus means is that we're all doing our best to keep sensitive information known to as few as possible." Frank said in a gentle tone from near the fireplace. Alice nodded encouragingly. "For example, we knew we were protecting someone in that secret room, but we don't know how to access it."

"And I do not know where Peter is, but Alice and Frank do." Remus continued, fighting a tone of guilt in his voice.

You opened your mouth to say something, but before you could Remus gave Alice and Frank a nod and with a sharp popping sound, had disapperated.

-X-

Remus let out a shaky breath as he apparated back into Sirius’ flat. He had always been good at shaking off unpleasant feelings, discomfort, but watching Alice guide you into that fireplace was too much. The expression you’d had, that sadness- and what was worse, surprise. Remus knew that you had wanted him to take you to Peter’s, he knew you were upset to realize that he was hardly involved in helping you. A shudder fell through Remus’ body as he closed his eyes- all he could see was the look of betrayal, of unfamiliarity that had crept into your eyes. That would be burned into his memory forever. 

Remus’ throat felt thick and heavy, as if it was going to fall into his stomach. He could feel a sob fighting its way out of him, but Remus bit his lip, tamping it down. Crying, Remus reasoned, would be too much of a release. Better to keep this feeling, better to be marked by it, remember it and use it so this never could happen again. 

The fireplace on the other side of the flat flared to life. Remus turned, watching as Sirius stepped through, his heartbeat quickening at the sight of Sirius’ gaunt, sleepless face. 

“How’d it go?” Sirius asked, looking at Remus with wide eyes as he dusted off his robes. 

“As well as you could expect… thanks to Alice and Frank.” Remus answered, trying to keep his voice even despite the fact that it felt like his neck had been tied into a knot. Sirius sighed heavily, shaking his head. 

“I wish I could have been there.” he lamented.

Remus felt his face twitch, his skin suddenly felt so very, very hot. He took a deep, slow, breath and tried to pass it off as a sigh in unison with Sirius’. So, Sirius wished he could have done more? Remus winced as the image of your hand gripping Sirius’ letter flashed in his mind. “I’d say you’ve already done too much, Padfoot.” he answered, forcing himself to stare at the floor as looking at Sirius just made him angrier. In his periphery, Remus could tell that Sirius had turned to stare at him. 

“What do you mean?” Sirius asked, plainly confused. 

Almost too innocent, Remus thought bitterly. Remus glanced at Sirius’ face, at his wide eyes and the pit of his chest turned into a fire. “That letter?” 

Sirius shrugged, his brow drawn together in further confusion. “What about it?” 

“Because, Sirius-” he barked, only becoming more irritated by the jump Sirius gave at Remus’ biting tone, “Because you know better than that. It’s a very, very dangerous time and you’ve jeopardized Alice and Frank, you jeopardized me by sending that letter.”

“Oh Mooney-” Sirius started sadly, his shoulders slumped as he took a few steps towards Remus. “But you didn’t see, you weren’t there when James and Lily told The Order what happened. You didn’t see the pain on Lily’s face, as she talked about them losing their entire family and crying on her lap. They’ve been alone, Mooney, they might be safe but they’ve been alone. I couldn’t stand it.” 

Sirius held Remus’ gaze for a long moment, his face falling as Remus remained stern. It was true, he hadn’t been there, because he’d been asked to go do what he was always asked to do- find a group of werewolves that hadn’t already pledged themselves to Voldemort. Thinking of that just made Remus feel worse. Seeing what people like him were like- 

“You…” Remus sighed and pinched his brow. Was it hard for him to reply because he feared it would sound too harsh, or was it because if he said anything more he might not be able to stop himself from shouting? “You could have completely compromised their safety by sending that letter. You can’t do that, Sirius, you can’t put your friends above the order. Nothing can be more salient than the orders we’re given, nothing! Or you won’t have friends to protect.” 

Sirius raised his brows, looking at Remus like he was impressed. He tilted his head, mulling over Remus’ words as if chewing them. The hairs on Remus’ arms rose as his shoulders tensed, like he was preparing to withstand a storm- which, with Sirius’ tongue, might not be too far from reality. Remus swallowed dryly as he watched Sirius’ eyes narrow.  

“So you’re frustrated with me.” Sirius clarified, taking a step towards him. 

“Very.” Remus nodded. Sirius shook his head- there it was, that sharp smile. 

“...I’m having a hard time, Rem.” Sirius said, standing before Remus, eyes glinting. 

“Oh yea?” 

“Yea…. I’m having a hard time believing this has anything to do with protocols.” 

“Well it does.” Remus shrugged. He looked down at Sirius and could feel his jaw ticking as he clenched his teeth. “So you either don’t care about the Order enough to be true to it, or you’re trying to wriggle out of taking accountability.” 

“Right.” Sirius smirked, “Perfect, Mooney- It couldn’t have anything to do with the fact that you weren’t there? That we weren’t there? That their family is gone because we didn’t think they would be targeted and that is on us? Because they went to Lily and James and not you? Because I found a way to give them some shred of comfort, of love- and when you got there you were all business?” 

Remus felt like he might go blind with rage. 

“You don't think it wasn’t hard for me? You think I wouldn’t rather have them with me?” he spat. 

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Of course you would rather, Rem. But that’s the problem- it's always a “would” and never a “will” with you. You get all your life’s meaning putting out the fires James and I start. You’re all too comfortable just sitting back and letting people think you’re the sensible, witty one that will smooth over all of our mistakes, but you’re not. You’re the one that’s never taken the first step to do anything, you’re the one watching life fly fucking by as other’s wait for you to catch on.” 

“Oh stop this, Sirius.” Remus’ voice shook. “Don’t try to turn this around and make this about relationships. If you can’t handle not seeing them, not sending them letters, then maybe you should just keep away. Just stay away from them.”

“Why, don’t they already have you for that?” Sirius raised an eyebrow, looking bored. 

“I’m not kidding, Sirius.” Remus growled, drawing himself up to his full height. He took a step towards him. “You’re endangering them. I don’t want you around if you can’t fucking control yourself.”

He watched Sirius’ eyes fill with a malice Remus had only ever seen at Sirius’ worst- fights with his family, fights with Death Eaters he’d grown up around. Remus’ eyes widened as he stopped a shudder from running down his spine at the effect Sirius’ glare had. 

“Do you love them, Remus?” Sirius asked. 

“That’s not what this is about-” Remus stammered, shaking his head. 

“Do you?” 

“Of course I do-” 

“Not like how you love James, you ass.” Sirius seethed, pushing his hand against Remus’ chest. “You know what I am asking. It’s sad, you can’t even answer.” 

Remus pushed Sirius away forcefully, a cruel satisfaction rang through him as he watched Sirius stumble backwards. “They know I care about them-” 

“Bullocks. How the fuck do you fathom that?” Sirius yelled, leaning towards Remus again. “You either have to tell them or show them- YOU haven’t DONE anything!” 

Before Remus could register that he had moved, Remus had the collar of Sirius’ robes balled up in his fist. Remus held Sirius before him, a terrible grimace contorting his face. 

“Fine.” Sirius snarled, his face transformed sharply, darkening, willful and wild. “Do you know who you’re reminding me of, Remus?” Sirius started, voice loud. “How little Snivelleus would traipse around Lily. Admit it- you’re jealous seeing me be there for them the way you SHOULD BE, because you CAN’T get over yourself being a danger, being a risk. Well now you have no excuse, they’ve handled worse than a werewolf Remus, and you’re still inept. I’m not your problem mate, you are.”   

Sirius noticed Remus' hand had flexed into a fist before Remus did. His eyes widened. “What, you’re going to hit me?” he hissed, a sliver of hurt and vulnerability showing through his eyes. His mouth bent to a pained frown. 

Remus let go- forcing his hands to relax and fall to his side. Another long silence followed. 

“I always hoped for you, Remus.” Sirius said, voice rough. “I knew that you felt you had to hide, but I believed you’d overcome that for the right person, just like you did with us. Now-” Sirius shook his head with disgust, looking at Remus as if he had transformed into a stranger. “They deserve better than this. Better than you.”

Remus’ eyes stung with hot tears. He held his breath, staring at Sirius’ sharp, unloving face. 

“I’m not going to have you blame me because you’re too scared to be honest with yourself.” Sirius breathed, his shoulders shook with anger. “You can go hang around that oily twat Snape if that’s the lack of life you want. Get out.”   

“Fine-” Remus growled, and with a flick of his wand he glimpsed the last he’d ever see of Sirius’ flat. While Sirius stood, wide eyed, incredulous, and in pain as the world spun and then spun again.

-X-

#remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #non binary reader #remus lupin #remus lupin fan fic #request #marauders era fan fiction #marauders fic #sirius black #sirius and remus are fighting #the tea is scalding #harry potter #harry potter fan fic #painting #remus lupin imagine #fictive fodder #fictive-fodder

[wolvesandshine]

“For the love of god, we need to set them up together I can’t handle their pining.”

Remus sighed and dutifully nodded along to Sirius’s plans to get his best friends and little brother dating.

“You know you could always just tell them you approve of their relationship. They might just not be getting together because they’re worried about upsetting you.”

Sirius snorts loudly. “What’s upsetting me is watching them eyefuck each other in front of everyone. At least if they’re together I won’t need to see that.” Sirius visibly shudders at that as he adds. “I doubt either of them are even aware of their feelings to each other anyways. James would have definitely asked him out by now if he did.”

~

“You know sneaking around would be easier if we just told Sirius about us.”

“You just want to torment Sirius.”

Regulus laughs brightly and even now, after a month of dating, James feels a course of satisfaction run through him at the sound.

“Course I do. And I know for a fact that he bet that you would ask me out first.”

James groaned loudly after that. “I was going to! You just beat me to it.”

Regulus snorts loudly. “In what universe is stalking after me using a map considered trying to ask someone out on a date?”

“It’s better than just kissing me after beating my arse in quidditch!”

“Remind me again whose plan actually led us to start dating?”

James shook his head incredulously. “I just needed more time!”

Regulus smirks. “What? And miss all the time we could have spent together instead?”

James laughed softly before leaning in to kiss Regulus, enjoying the blush on the other boys cheeks.

After all he only had 30 more minutes before Sirius got suspicious.

#thoughts?? #first jegulus fanfic? y’all #mini one maybe #jegulus #james potter #regulus black #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #sunseeker #starchaser #marauders era #marauders #marauders era funny #marauders era textpost #jegulus fan fiction #jegulus one shot #marauders funny #fanfiction

[atydblack]

sirius black x pureblood!reader where they r at a pureblood gathering in an established relationship & the reader although not a blood supremacist is pretty praised within the society and viewed almost as a pureblood princess, an example & a perfect (future) wife. she doesn’t love that but she’s used to coloring in the lines so she can’t help the way she is viewed by the pureblood society. anyway, sirius and reader r at some kind of pureblood event and he already feels out of place. reader tries to keep him at bay but eventually he causes a scene when a few boys actively hit on reader in front of sirius. reader pulls him aside and is just like wtf is wrong w u sirius u know im yours. lots of comfort and fluff plz

"pureblood princess"

masterlist

"I can't believe you're making me do this." Sirius huffed, frustratedly attempting to tie his tie.

"I don't want to go just as much as you don't!" You grumbled, wandering over to him and helping him with his tie.

"I have a solution," He smirked, "We could just... not go?"

You rolled your eyes, he had been complaining all day and you were done with repeating yourself.

"We don't have a choice, Siri."

It was the night of the annual Pureblood Ball and now that you and Sirius were engaged, your attendance was mandatory.

This year, the ball was at the Black Manor. The Blacks had been almost shunned from the society due to Sirius' behaviour but have now been welcomed back with open arms.

Sirius' parents were over the moon when they found out about your relationship. After years of Sirius refusing to accept his label as a pureblood, his engagement to you surprised everyone.

Your parents weren't so excited. There was constant gossip of the Black family after Sirius ran away and as you were highly considered the 'pureblood princess' to those in the pureblood society, they thought you could do much better.

Sirius didn't help himself when attending big events like this. You had to beg him to come and when he finally agreed, he just moped the whole evening.

"Why don't we just run away?" Sirius mumbled, pulling you in to his chest and kissing the top of your head.

"We can't." You mumbled back. As much as you did want to run away with Sirius forever, you just couldn't. Your presence was too demanded, if you ran away with Sirius they'd have his head on a stick within a week.

"At least you look gorgeous." Sirius poked at you.

That was one of the only thing you enjoyed about these gatherings, you could both dress up.

When you were much younger, these parties excited you too much. With rose tinted glasses on as a little girl the idea of wearing a pretty dress and have everyone fawning over you was a dream.

You could sense Sirius' anxiety upon arrival and as much as you tried to comfort him, he just quickly shut you down.

"Siri, you'll be fine. We just have to show our faces for a bit then we can go home." You reached for his hand.

"I am fine." Sirius grunted. "I just don't want to be here."

He avoided eye contact with you as you walked through the giant doors towards the dimly lit ball room.

You'd think that this would be any girls dream and perhaps if you ignored the details it might be. However knowing that almost everyones ideologies in that room were what many considered evil spoilt the whole thing.

Everyone was dressed in dark colours, your deep red dress complimenting the room. The most infamous names in the pureblood society were here tonight, so you knew you had to put on your best act.

"Sirius," Narcissa greeted sternly as her and her sister Bellatrix approach the two of you "Y/N."

Sirius' jaw tightened as he kept his words to himself.

"Narcissa, Bellatrix. Lovely to see the both of you." You faked a small smile.

"Congratulations on your engagement," Bellatrix sneered. "How you managed it I will never know, Y/N."

"I'm not quite sure what you mean."

"Well, our dear Sirius would have danced on all of our graves just a few months ago, including yours." Bellatrix smirked. "You must tell me the details of the charm or potion you used to make him like this."

"Oh piss off, Bellatrix." Sirius barked.

"Oops, looks like it's wearing off." Bellatrix laughed before the two of them strutted off.

"Great start." You mumbled.

"Can we just leave, Y/N." Sirius groaned.

"Just a little longer, Siri." You squeezed his hand as you moved forward within the party, before spotting both your parents approaching you.

"Y/N, darling." Your mother ushered you over. "Come join us."

"Orion," You smiled gently "Walburga, lovely to see you both again."

You had known Sirius' parents since you were born. Funny how differently women and men were treated in this odd society.

You were treat like a delicate flower and on the other hand Sirius was raised with high expectations of being this big strong man. Now somehow you were the one being praised for bringing him back into this toxic environment.

Sirius stayed silent, not bothering to utter a word to your parents nor his own.

"Oh, darling Y/N, how stunning you look." Walburga gushed. "You will be such a stunning bride."

"Indeed," Orion spoke sternly. "It will be a pleasure for the pureblood princess to be part of the Black family."

"It will be my pleasure." You blushed.

Sirius let go of your hand, walking away from the group without a word.

"He's um-" You mumbled becoming flustered. "He's still getting used to being back here."

"Don't worry darling," Walburga reassured you. "We couldn't manage him so we can hardly expect you to."

You gave a fake smile and after a while of conversing with you soon to be in-laws, you left to get a drink.

Your eyes wandered around the room as you waited for your drink at the bar, Sirius nowhere to be seen.

You couldn't blame him, it wasn't exactly the best place for him to be but you didn't expect him to abandon you within the first 10 minutes.

"If it isn't the pureblood princess," A voice was heard from behind you. "Where's your retched fiance?"

It was Evan Rosier. He had been on your case for years and after many, many proposal refusals he still couldn't give up.

"Why would I tell you." You muttered.

"Ah, he's left already? I'm not so surprised. He's always been a runner." He came closer to you, not leaving eye contact. "I would never abandon you, princess."

"He hasn't abandoned me." You snapped. "Can't you take no for an answer? I'm engaged."

"You think I believe that? What business does Sirius Black have with you? He hates all of us, including your family."

"Shut up."

"Can't handle the truth?" He reached over to grab your chin, forcing you to look at him. Not wanting to cause a scene, you let him. "Princess, I would give you the respect you deserve and you know it."

"Leave me alone."

He chuckled, leaning in closer.

"Make me." His face was inches from yours as you froze inside yourself.

Before you knew it, he was being pushed against the bar, glasses smashing everywhere.

"Keep your hands off of her you filthy rat." Sirius barked.

"Your puppies come off his leash, Princess." Evan smirked.

Sirius shoved him harder, ready to hit him.

"Sirius, don't" You grabbed ahold of his arm as the room went silent. "Don't do this."

"Yeah, or what?" He grunted.

You pulled on his arm harder and he turned to look at you, his features softening as you caught his eye.

"Lets just go, Siri, please."

He pushed Evan to the floor before storming out of the front doors.

You rushed after him, ignoring the muttering of gossip as you did so.

"Fuck!" You heard him shout out of frustration now that he was away from everyone.

He was sat on one of the stone steps with a cigarette in his hand and you sat yourself next to him.

"What was all that about?" You mumbled.

"Are you fucking kidding?" Sirius grunted. "He was all over you."

"I can handle myself."

"Doesn't bloody look like it." He bit.

"Well, I can." You bit back. "You know how many years I've had to deal with men like that?"

He was silent for a moment.

"I'm sorry I just- I can't stand being around all those people again."

"All those people? Siri, they're your family."

"Yeah well they're all pricks." He muttered. "And you- why are you pretending like becoming a Black is such an honour? My family is filled with lines and lines of horrible people and you know it."

"I know. You know I have to say these things." You responded. "But I do feel honoured."

"How could you possibly feel honoured."

"Because I get to marry you."

He turned to hide is blushed cheeks before turning back to you.

"I love you, Y/N."

-

this is not proofread and there is no smut im so sorry but i just wanted something to back into the swing of writing and loved this idea!

#sirius black x reader #marauders #sirius black x reader smut #sirius black smut #wolfstar #james potter x reader #sirius black #marauders x reader #james potter smut #james potter #sirius orion black #the marauders #marauders era #sirius black fan fiction #sirius x pureblood reader #sirius x reader

[wzrd-wheezes]

could i request a short imagine with remus x fem reader, where they’re best friends, and one day in the library while remus is talking about some book he’s passionate about, the reader just kisses him??? thank u!!!

Ink-Stained Fingers - Remus Lupin x Reader.

AN - this was such a cute request and i had so much fun writing it! thank you so much <3

Y/N’s fingers were stained with ink from her quill as she frantically scribbled on a particularly long roll of parchment, desperately trying to finish her potions essay that was due in the morning. Remus sat opposite her, his feet propped up on the table and a book gripped between his fingers.

“How many times have you read that one, then?” Y/N asked, glancing up at him.

“Dunno.” he replied, barely looking up, “Five maybe?”

Y/N smiled to herself, returning her attention to her homework. Remus would usually keep her company on her late night study sessions in the library when she was cramming in her homework last minute. She wasn’t as organised as he was usually.

Remus’ fingers toyed idly with a loose thread on the sleeve of his jumper as he read. By the looks of it, it was a book that he’d read over and over. The edges of the pages had gone fuzzy like they had been thumbed through many times and his brow furrowed as his eyes danced over the words.

“I can lend it you if you want?” Remus broke the silence.

“Are you feeling alright?” Y/N laughed, “James asked to borrow one of your books the other day and you looked like he’d just asked you to sacrifice your first born child!”

Remus chuckled, closing the book and placing it on the table.

“That was only ‘cause I know he wouldn’t look after it,” he said, “knowing him he’d probably leave it somewhere.”

Y/N nodded in agreement, dipping her quill back into the pot of ink and carrying on writing. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Remus reach down to retrieve something from his bag. He took out a quill and ink and began flicking quickly through the pages of his book.

“What’re you doing?” Y/N asked, not looking up from the piece of parchment in front of her.

“‘M just writing you some notes in the margins,” he muttered, clearly deep in thought, “y’know, for when you read it.”

Her eyes snapped up to look at him and she felt the heat rise to her cheeks. Remus was biting down on his lip as he scribbled down his notes, a crease forming between his brows. It was as if he couldn’t get the words down on the pages quick enough.

“This is one of my favourites, you know?” he spoke, “The characters are so well thought out and the way that it’s written is honestly…”

He went on, telling her every detail of the story telling without trying to ruin it for her. His lips pulled into a smile as he spoke, the words spilling effortlessly out of his mouth. His eyes were wide and shining with excitement and Y/N had lost track of what he was saying, completely in awe of how passionately he was speaking about the book.

Y/N didn’t know why she did it, but before she had even registered what she was doing, she had leaned across the table and kissed him. She caught him mid sentence, his mouth slightly open and his lips soft against hers. Y/N pulled away quickly, her eyes widening and her heart pounding.

“If you wanted me to shut up you only had to tell me.” Remus laughed, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

“I’m sorry - I don’t know why I did that!” Y/N panicked, “Shit. you’re my best friend-”

This time Remus cut her off. Leaning over the table and grabbing her face with his hands. The kiss this time was more sure, his lips confident against hers, his hand resting on her jaw. He tried to pull her closer to him to deepen the kiss when all over a sudden they were distracted by a dull thud as something hit the wood of the table.

Looking down, they saw that the pot of ink had been knocked over, the dark liquid spilling across the table and seeping onto the the roll of parchment where Y/N was writing her essay. She let out a gasp, trying to snatch her work away from the ink that was spreading at a rapid pace.

“Don’t worry about it.” Remus said, taking the paper from her hands and dropping it to the floor, his eyes still fixed on hers. The ink had got on his fingers too, and he chuckled as he looked at them. “I’ll help you write another one.”

His lips quickly found Y/N’s again, their ink stained fingers intertwining.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x yn #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fan fiction #remus lupin x you #marauders #marauders era #marauders fan fiction

[resident-gay-bitch]

Fight & Make Up

marylene minor angst with a happy ending - 7.7 k words

“I broke up with Sirius.” Mary said, pressing the heavy wooden door to the dorm room closed behind her. 

From her bed, Marlene looked up in alarm; eyes wide, body still, and the quidditch magazine she was reading had fallen through her hands, down onto her mattress. Across the room, Lily gasped. She was braiding her hair at the vanity when Mary had walked in, and turned around with an expression so similar to Marlenes, however, her eyes had more sorrow than Marlenes had. 

Mary shrugged, moving into the room to sit on the end of Lily’s bed, closest to the both of them. She grabbed the fluffy stuffed bunny that had been discarded in the early morning rush and dropped onto the floor, popping it in her lap to play with its floppy ears, “It’s over… He was sad, but I think he fancies someone else anyway. Or at least he’s starting too. As strange as it sounds, I hope Sirius gets his way, they’d be much better together than he and I.” 

“Why?” Lily asked, quickly tying off the end of her braid to give Mary her undivided attention, “What? Why…. are you okay, Mary?”

“I’m okay.” Mary gave a half hearted smile, “Well, I’m sad. It was a good relationship, and now it’s over, of course I’m going to be sad. I miss him already, he was sweet… got me flowers and shared his pudding with me… not to mention he’s bloody gorgeous and a brilliant snog.” 

Lily snickered, her laugh so sudden that it caused her to make a snorting sound, much like a pig, when she scrunched up her nose. Mary finds it delightful when Lily laughs like that, it’s absolutely hilarious. Across the room, on her bed, Marlene did not make a sound. 

“Never mind that though, those things can’t last forever.” Mary shrugged again, sitting the bunny down on the blanket beside her, looking up at the girls again. “I’m glad it’s over, actually. Better now than later, less drama that way. Plus, it’s nice to know that he cried a bit.” 

“Sirius cried?” Lily asked, her mouth a little slack, “Hmm, maybe he’s not as much of a gorgeous prick as I thought.” 

“No.” Mary laughed, “Believe it or not, the boy's got a heart. He is lovely, Lily. He’s just not the one, you know?”

“God, none of them ever are.” Lily groaned, tipping her head back over the chair, “All the boys here suck. All of them, every single one of them, all stupid gits… annoyingly attractive gits, but gits.” 

Mary snickered, lifting a ringed hand to cover her mouth, “Too right, Lily… you wouldn’t happen to be talking about anyone in specifics, would you? Perhaps… one of Sirius’ stupid friend-”

“Absolutely not.” Lily said, turning bright red, “No, I’m not talking about James-”

“I never said his name, Lily.” Mary teased. 

Lily went silent, her cheeks redder than her hair as she stared up at the roof. All that could be heard in the room for a short while were Mary’s quiet giggles that she tried to stifle behind her hand. 

“Shit.” Lily said eventually, “Don’t you dare say anything.” 

“I wasn’t planning on it.” Mary grinned, holding her hands up on either side of her head. 

Lily flipped her off before smiling and turning her head to face Mary again, eyes wide with anticipation, “Okay, so, Sirius isn’t the one, sure… but there's got to be another reason, right? What pushed you to end it now, rather than when you just stopped having feelings for eachother?” 

“Well…” Mary smiled softly, her cheeks going red, “You know, Sirius is falling for someone else, so it’s better to let him explore that then stress himself out with me. And, uhm. There's… someone else.” 

“Someone else?” Marlene asked, the first sound she had made since Mary entered the room. Though her face still remained the same, eyes wide with shock and worry. 

Mary cleared her throat, “Yes. Though, I will not be elaborating.” 

“Boo!” Lily poked her tongue out, “Come on, you’ve got to tell us.” 

“Absolutely not.” Mary shook her head, stern and sure, “It’s pointless, so… I’d rather just let it run its course, okay?” 

Lily huffed and turned back to the vanity, fixing up her braid where it got messy at the end, “You’re boring.” She shrugged, “I am sorry, though, Mary. I’m here for you.”

“Yeah, thanks, Lils.” Mary smiled softly at her reflection. She turned her attention then to Marlene, the two of them staring at each other for a moment, “Well, are you going to say anything? Gloat about how right you were? Dance about how happy you are that it’s over?” 

Across the room, on her bed, Marlene paled. 

The first moment Mary confessed she had a small crush on Sirius Black in the beginning of fifth year, Marlene had an issue with it. Mary remembered the way her best friend pulled a strange face, scrunching up her nose to ask “Black? Ugh, why? He’s so vain.” 

She protested every time Mary thought about making a move, pulled strange faces every time she called him cute, and countered every dreamy comment Mary made about him with her own distasteful one. And when something finally happened between them, just three and a half months ago, Marlene got worse. 

It was the first Hogsmeade weekend for sixth year, and after a boring potions lesson when Mary and the girls were packing up their things, the boys were all shoving a pink cheeked Sirius forward with words of reassurance and laughter. He asked her out to The Three Broomsticks, pulled a small bunch of hand picked flowers from his pocket, and kissed her on the cheek, and Mary naturally said yes. 

The entire rest of the day she had to put up with Marlene's yapping, unkind words about the boy she had just started to date. She even went so far as to interrupt their date, as they were giggling together in a quiet booth in the pub, Sirius’ arm around her shoulders as he nosed at her cheek.. Right as they were about to kiss, Marlene came barreling over and sat herself across from them, striking up an awfully boring conversation about broom polish and a new style of quaffle that just dropped, Lily chasing after in protest. 

It drove a wedge between them quite quickly, the pair always at each other's throats. 

If any of Mary’s friends had ever suggested she stopped having an interest in a boy, she’s always listened. Isn’t it the first rule of girl code that you trust your fellow females' judgement? Besides, friends always come first. 

However, Marlene never really gave a good, valid reason as to why Sirius was such a bad match for Mary. It was always yaps about his overconfidence, or vanity, or all the stupid pranks he’d pull, or anything else about boys in general she could come up with. Which would have been understandable, if she hadn’t been so cool with Lily’s miniature crush on Remus a few years back, or so encouraging towards her now clear feelings for James; who, in Mary’s opinion, is much more arrogant and overconfident than Sirius. 

Besides, Sirius wasn’t even that vain. Yes, he knew he had good looks, and yes, sometimes he used them to his advantage (see; flirting to get his way so the Marauders could efficiently prank), but he wasn’t awful about it. The first time Mary ever called him gorgeous he turned bright red and couldn’t fully form a sentence for three whole minutes he was so flustered. 

Not only that, but Marlene and Sirius were actually quite good mates before Mary started dating him. They were practically best friends, getting up to mischief together and pulling James’ leg during quidditch practices. So why Marlene had such a problem with it remains an utter mystery to Mary. 

That’s why she didn’t listen. 

And Lily thought they were wonderful together, as did all of the Gryffindor (and Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw, and even some Slytherin) girls who didn’t have a weird infatuation with Sirius and wanted him to themselves. So it really was just Marlene and her own issues that she was too stuck up about to disclose to Mary. 

For a while there, Mary thought she was jealous. Marlene had never really expressed an interest in boys. When they were younger, she found it appalling when Lily and Mary talked about the cute boys in their classes. As they grew a little, she became more accustomed to it, and joined in on their discussions, but never expressed her own attraction to them. So the thought of Marlene having a crush on Sirius was a far away thought, that only occurred to Mary one afternoon about three weeks ago. 

The girls had gotten all rugged up in their coats and scarves and mittens to go for a walk around the grounds when they bumped into Sirius outside by the old willow tree. He’d been setting up something for a prank, but finished up by the time the girls had reached him, so naturally, Mary invited him along. 

It was only when Mary took her hand out of his to wrap half of her scarf around his neck, and slip one of her mittens onto one of his cold hands, that Marlene had had enough. 

She stopped in the middle of their path, staring at the couple for a moment before expressing that “this is fucking stupid” before storming off in a huff of teary eyed anger. 

She’d never said anything in front of Sirius before, and she’d certainly never thrown a tantrum like that. It took Lily shyly suggesting Marlene may have gotten jealous before chasing after her, did Mary actually consider it. 

She felt awful. Going off and dating the boy her best friend liked, holding his hands and snogging him right in front of her. Oh, she felt so guilty about it, so terribly awful. She talked with Sirius quickly, which he felt very embarrassed about, before running off to find Marlene herself. 

She didn’t find her in the end. However Sirius did. And when Sirius and Mary bumped into each other again just two hours later, he told her they had a little chat about it. He told Mary that Marlene very explicitly, and very angrily, expressed she had absolutely no interest in Sirius whatsoever, never has and never would. And she most certainly wasn’t jealous of Mary. 

When Mary tried to talk to her about it that evening, Marlene didn’t allow it. She shut down and closed her bed curtains and didn’t talk to Mary for three days. 

So Mary remains miffed. 

She very wisely did not mention that the real reason she broke up with Sirius was because of Marlene. 

One; she knew it would just end in an argument if she brought that up. 

Two; Marlene would probably end up on a high horse about it and give Mary another headache. 

Three; That someone else that snuck their way into the equation… Well, that’s Marlene. 

Through their kind of falling out, Mary realised she missed Marlene more than she thought she would. It felt horrible to have her best friend ignore her, chastising her relationship and throwing silent tantrums whenever Sirius took away her attention. 

She was plagued with thoughts of Marlene on the constant, and started to wonder if Sirius really was that right for her after all. She came to one simple conclusion whilst laying in his lap one afternoon after Marlene had strolled into the common room, seen them, rolled her eyes and abruptly left; Sirius is lovely, but he’s never going to be Marlene. 

Honestly, the reason why Mary had clung onto Sirius for so long was out of sheer spite. 

The way her and Marlene have always worked was a neat push and pull. 

Marlene isn’t really like many other girls Mary knows. She’s messy, and loud, confident, snarky. She’s a little rough around the edges, has never cared about her looks for even one day in her life, all she wants to do is fly, and race, and play, and fight and help those in need of it. She’s never given a shit about anyone's opinions, and in first year, when some Slytherin girls told her she was ugly and dressed like a boy, she stepped on their toes and spat in their faces and threw out the only dress she ever owned. 

To Mary, who grew up in a house where eyebrow plucking and lipstick and cute dresses were shoved on her from a young age, and a village where a woman's beauty was respected and expected, and a world where the only way she’d ever dream of getting her smart foot in the door was if she dressed the pretty part, Marlene was everything. 

With Marlene, she could let go. She could wear baggy trousers around the dorm and look over to see her friend in similar ones, she could go an entire day without makeup knowing Marlene wouldn’t look at her any different for it. With Marlene she could run, and she could laugh, and she could scream, and she could play rough. 

They’d argue and throw pillows at each other and chase one another around the dorm until they’d collapse in a heap and laugh together. They’d wrestle over who got to read their new magazine first and end up curled up and reading it together. 

They’d argue about silly things, both so stupidly stubborn so it would escalate quickly. Mary would call her a slag, and Marlene would call Mary slut, and by the end of the evening they’d be brushing each other's hair and complaining about homework together as if nothing had even happened. 

Lately, it’s been all fight and no makeup. And Mary misses it. 

She realised that she only ever started so many arguments so they could make up. Because sure, when they’re kind to each other it’s nice enough. But when they fight, chase and wrestle, Mary can get close to her. She can get up in Marlene's space and touch her, feel her pale skin against the palm of her hand, the soft prick of her leg hair against fingertips, the hot breath that followed her brilliant laughter across her own cheeks. 

When they make up, Mary gets to sit there and brush Marlene's hair whilst she narrates a celebrity magazine with extra commentary; Mary can run her fingers through the messy blonde locks and feel Marelene melt under the touch, and she can listen to the comfortable song of her voice and laugh at her stupid opinions about whatever scandal occurs that week and let it calm her. 

When they Make up, Mary gets to lay her head on Marlene's shoulder whilst they read together, listening to the steady in and out of her breath, and if the position’s right, her heartbeat. She can let Marlene twist her fingers around the ends of Mary’s springy curls, or even scratch them up against her scalp; she can be wrapped under Marlene's arm and lay there for as long as she pleases. Too many times they’ve fallen asleep like that. 

When they make up, Mary gets to lay in bed with her, looking into her crystal blue eyes in the dark, admiring the shimmer reflected in them from the light at the end of her wand. She gets to listen to Marlene's soft whispers of “Sorry, you’re my best friend, I don’t really think you’re a slut. I know the rumours aren’t true and wouldn’t even care if they were. Really, Mary, I love you, I’m such a git”, and feel her warm breath on her face, and inhale the comforting scent of Marlene's coconut shampoo and the remnants of her woody perfume. She gets to hold Marlene's hand, calloused and rough from years of quidditch and getting up to no good, and giggle with her, and lock their ankles together beneath the covers. 

And it took Mary losing that, for what felt like for good, to realise how much she needed it. 

She needs Marlene. 

Though all of their nasty, through all of their dirty, through all of their horrible, Mary needs her. She needs her like she needs air. 

She’s in love with her best friend, and she’s very nearly lost her. Over a boy. 

Marlene didn’t say anything, she just slowly shut her bed curtains and didn’t come out all evening. 

It was stupid of Mary to expect a fight anyway, they hadn’t fought in weeks. They just glare at each other, almost bursting into tears without any words shared between them, and walk away. 

She’s so stupid for thinking they could just fight and makeup now. So fucking stupid. 

☆ ★ ☆

“That’s it.” Mary said, shoving her book bag down on the end of her bed, storming into the centre of the room, Marlene trailing behind with a scoff. 

“Oh, what ails Mary Almighty now?” Marlene rolled her eyes, taking off her own satchal and dropping it on the ground, “What gorgeous, dick having man has fucked and rejected you this week?” 

“Marlene.” Lily scolded, sitting down on the end of her bed. She rubs her temples, already gaining a headache from their arguing. The first real argument they’ve had in months. 

“What?” Marlene scoffed, “Am I wrong? Have you not sucked your way to heartbreak-”

“Marlene!” Lily said again, her eyes stern as she glared at her friend, “Enough with the slutshaming.” 

“Tell Mary to stop being such a whore-”

“I’m sorry, do I make you jealous?” Mary asked, cocking her head. Marlene's words sting, but only on the surface. She knows that Marlene knows all those rumours that get around about Mary aren't true. That she’s only really been on a handful of dates at most and only ever slept with Sirius. But still, your best friend, forward slash current biggest enemy, forward slash the girl you’ve accidentally been in love with for years calling you a whore isn’t the tastiest pill to swallow. “I’m sorry men don’t take an interest in you, Marlene. Perhaps if you’d just put on a dress-”

“Oh, stop.” Marlene sassed, “I don’t want to fucking talk about it-”

“Well, I do.” Mary pressed. 

“We are not talking about the lack of men interested in me-”

“No, I want to talk about us.” 

Marlene went a little white, staring at Mary across the room for a moment. The silence stretched, tension so thick you could slice it with a knife. Mary held her ground, eyes locked on the other girl with ferocious need. She wasn’t losing this. She needed a fight, so they were going to fight. 

Soon enough they’d have to make up. 

Hopefully. 

Marlene scoffed, rolling her eyes as she turned away, losing that little battle. Mary internally celebrates, knowing things are going her way, finally. Perhaps they might really get somewhere, if Marlene is willing to listen. 

Marlene loosens the tie around her neck before shrugging off her robes, tossing them messily onto her bed. Mary has an itch to go over and tidy her corner of the room, as she always used to help Marlene to do. But since their silence, Mary hasn’t helped once, and it really shows with the pile of dirty laundry peeking out from under her bed. 

Mary doesn’t remove her robes, liking the feel of the thick fabric on her arms. It’s grounding, something else to grab onto instead of digging the sharp of her nails into her palms. 

“Go on then.” Marlene says, sticking her hands sharply into the pockets of her trousers, shoulders tight around her neck as she wobbles on her heels and toes. “Talk. Tell me what tragedies have befallen us, McDonald-”

“Don’t call me by my last name, McKinnon.” Mary sneered back at her, folding her arms over her chest, “And you know exactly what I want to talk about-”

“Well, I’m not really interested, so-”

“Well, I don’t really care.” Mary said, glaring at her again with her eyebrows raised. Marlene gave her an icy look in return, her face petulant, like a child. “I’ve had enough of… whatever the fuck is going on, and I wan’t to talk about it. I’m sick of you ignoring me, Marlne-”

“As if you’re so innocent.” Marlene fired back, “The whole time you were with him you ignored everything I said. What happened to trusting your friends, hmm? I told you he was bad news-”

“And he wasn’t.” Mary retorted, “Nothing bad about him, Marlene. You used to act as if the sun shone out of his arse, half the time, before we got together. So what is it, hmm? What pissed you off so much about Sirius and my relationship?”

“Well, you said it yourself. He wasn’t the one. There’s someone else.” She groaned, spitting out the last part in a childish tone, wiggling her head to make fun. 

“Obviously he wasn’t the one, Marlene.” Mary huffed, “He was my second boyfriend! I’m sixteen! That doesn’t mean we can’t date at all.”

“Yeah, well, I was trying to save you from heartbreak.” Marlene huffed. 

“Well it didn’t work.” Mary said, her voice tight as she looked at the girl she loved. She looks so tired, big bags under her diamond eyes, her hair a mess from running her hands through it all day in stress. “You broke my heart, Marlene. You broke it the moment you turned against me and didn’t give me one good reason why.”

Marlene's expression drops, looking up at Mary with widened eyes. Her mouth gapes slightly, moving just a little, as if she wants to say something, but no words find their way out. 

“What? You don’t like that?” Mary shakes her head in disbelief, “You don’t like the fact that the real reason I ended my relationship with Sirius is because I was sick of my best friend icing me out and getting upset over nothing? Is it so horrible to ask you to be happy for me? It feels awful, every day, to look at you and feel disgusted with myself for something I didn’t even do! I just wanted my fucking friend back, and two months have passed, Marlene, and you still fucking hate me!”

“One month.” Marlene muttered under her breath, the words slipping out of her lips as if she was desperate to say them, “It’s been one month… twelve days.” 

Mary looked at her for a moment, unbelieving the words that had just left Marlene's mouth. She laughs, stressed, on the brink of tears as she brings her hands to her face and tugs at her hair, “Fucks sake, Marlene. Not the point!” 

Marlene doesn’t say anything. She just stares at Mary, her head dipped, big wet eyes tracking Mary as she paces the room. 

“What is it?” Mary begs, stopping and waving her hand out at Marlene, “Just tell me. Tell me what I’ve done that’s so bloody awful that you hate me! I don’t care anymore, Marlene. I just want to know! I want to know, I want to fix this… I miss you. Every day, I miss you, so please, for the love of Merlin, just tell me.” 

“I don’t want to tell you.” Marlene confesses, and for the first time in months, Mary feels like she’s finally got something. 

“Why not?” Mary asks. 

“Because I feel awful about it.” 

“I feel awful.” Mary tried, “I feel awful for even knowing Sirius, half the time. Why was it so wrong for me to be with him… to- to like him?” 

Marlene closes her eyes and breathes. One deep breath in, and out, followed by another, and one more. Mary watches as she regulates herself, clearly fighting off tears as she clenches her fists at her sides, in the way she does, acting so stoic. 

“It wasn’t wrong.” She eventually mutters, so quiet Mary barely hears it. But she does, because she listens. She listens so closely she even hears the tiny sob that rips its way from Marlene's throat before she snubs it with a cough. 

Mary watches her, tilts her head to the side and takes in her sunken expression, “What’s your problem, then, Marlene? I’ve sorted through all of the options and I’ve come up dry.” She waves her arms out in stress, “I’m clueless. Absolutely fucking clueless. What have I done that is so awful to you?”

“Nothing.” Marlene says, a quick response followed by desperate eyes; aching with a genuinity Mary quickly finds, “You’ve done absolutely nothing. You’re- this isn’t about you. It’s me. I’m- I’ve done this to myself. It’s… I’ve been so scared, okay? Bloody terrified, so I… I shut you out, made everything worse. And it’s awful, isn’t it? It feels so awful. I’ve got this ache in my stomach that won’t go away, rotten with guilt, and I just keep making it worse.” Marlene clutches at her stomach, nimble fingers twisting in the white cotton of her dress shirt. 

Mary feels her anger, that violent desperation inside of her, begin to dissipate. The desire to rip Marlene's head off and go fishing around her brain for answers no longer lingers, and instead, it fades to a helpless sympathy. She wants to reach out and stitch the broken pieces of Marlene back together, to wipe her eyes with the gentle pads of her thumbs and kiss her. 

“What’s got you feeling so helpless, Marlie?” Mary asks, voice gentle like silk, the familiar nickname falling off of her tongue with ease, as if they've already made up and all is well again. 

Marlene sobs again, around a saddened laugh, and a few tears slip past her summer eyes. Mary truly does love Marlene's eyes, gentle and gorgeous. She could stare into them for hours, endlessly just admiring the infinite beauty within. She loves them when they’re happy, and she loves them when they’re scared, and she loves them when they’re gentle, and she loves them when they cry. 

She shakes her head no, the too long ends of her fringe slipping into her eyes, but she doesn’t brush them away. Mary wants too. If they weren’t fighting, she would. 

“Tell her, Marlene.” Lily whispers from her spot on the bed. Mary’s frightened by the suddenness of her voice, she’d forgotten Lily was even in the room with them, the world narrowed down to her and the girl she loves. 

Marlene shakes her head again, giving Lily a desperate look,; one that begs for rescue. 

Lily stands up and walks over to her, brushing the ends of Marlene's fringe from her eyes, using her sleeve to dab at the tears on her lightly freckled cheeks, and Mary envies her. Just for a moment, she hates Lily for getting to touch Marlene like that, to care for her, to be gentle with her. 

Marlene was never gentle, but with Mary, she learned how to be. It’s not fair that she finds it with Lily now too. Mary wants to keep that all to herself, to hide it away in the dark like a filthy secret. She wants to have the gentle caress of Marlene all to herself, to be the only one to touch her tears, the only one to sooth her anguish. 

Jealousy rips through her like a flood, threatening to destroy everything in its path. All this build up, all this silence, and Mary doesn’t know how much longer she can keep it under wraps. 

“Don’t be scared, Marlene.” Lily smiles softly, taking Marlene's shaky hand to sooth, “Tell her. Let it off your chest. You’ll feel better. Besides, it may not end so terribly, you’ll get through it. I’m here to help you through it.” 

“I’m scared, Lily.” Marlene whispered, “I don’t want to lose her. She’s my best friend.” 

“You won’t. I’ll make sure of it.” Lily promises, giving her hand a tight squeeze, “Tell her.” She nods before taking her leave. 

It’s just the two of them, alone together in their big empty dorm room. 

“Tell me, Marlene.” Mary whispers, too frightened of something bad happening if she spoke much louder. Her heart raced in her chest, beating so fast she could hear her blood pumping in her ears. 

Marlene huffed, taking a moment to catch her breath and very pointedly not looking at Mary. It’s infuriating; to still be avoided when they’re standing right across from one another. They’re the only two in the room, trying to make up, and Marlene is still ignoring her. 

Mary could kill her!

“Look at me-”

“I don’t want to look at you.” Marlene snapped back. 

“Look-”

“No.” 

“Marlene-”

“I’ll cry!” Marlene spat out, looking down at the ground, “Bloody hell, I’m pathetic… I’ll cry, Mary. Please don’t look at me, I’m trying to find the words, okay? Give me a moment.”

Mary sighed and nodded her head, making a show of turning around to face the wall, rather than Marlene, no matter how infuriating. Turned away, she already misses the sight of her; in her grass stained trousers, her wrinkled button up that she never tucks in properly, shaggy hair, her looser than usual tie, the boys shoes she wears for comfort, the silver band she always wears around her thumb. 

She’s a walking contrast to Mary, who’s always neat and tidy, who tucks her shirt into her skirt with precision, her hair always neatly done, her tie always tight to her collar, Mary-Janes with cute frilly socks or stockings depending on the weather, and the array of dainty gold jewellery she changes most days. 

Mary’s obsessed with her. 

“You were right…” Marlene mutters, her voice strained. She’s clearly willing herself not to break down into tears, and Mary feels her stomach ache with empathy for the girl. She wants to turn and run and pull Marlene into her arms, to cradle her and stroke her hair and make it all better. 

But she knows better. She’s not stupid. That’s not how this is going to work. So she stands there, facing the wall, and listens to Marlene talk. 

“I was jealous.” She sniffled, “I was so… so fucking jealous.”

“Marlene-” Mary feels her heart crack, that horrible guilt sinking back in. She’s an awful friend, she knows it now; how she went so long without seeing the vibrant truth right in front of her. So what Marlene hardly expressed her interest in boys, maybe she’s just shy about them? So what Marlene denied being jealous when she was asked, she’s obviously not going to tell her best friend's boyfriend she’s into him. 

It’s worse now though, because Mary knows she’s in love with Marlene. She’s so painfully in love with Marlene that the confession stabs her right in the heart and drags until it bleeds. 

She’s just fucked everything up, hasn’t she? 

“I’m- I’m so sorry.” She choked out, “I didn’t-”

“No.” Marlene presses, sniffling. Mary can hear her shuffling around, no doubt twitching in her spot. She does that when she’s anxious, hops from foot to foot, tries to balance on one leg before she wobbles and puts it down. It’s strange, she’s so strange, and Mary loves her all the more for it. She loves her, but she can never have. “You just… you listen to me, okay?”

“Okay.” Mary muttered, voice meek and broken. She’s trying her absolute best to not let Marlene hear her cry. 

“Sirius and I were best mates- he’s… he was the first bloke who ever treated me as an equal, and not just some girl who wanted attention. When we both went up for beater on the quidditch team, he shook my hand and played against me with ruthless precision, and cheered for me when I hit the bludger harder than any of the other blokes there, and called me brilliant right before going to convince the captain to let me on the team.” She took a deep breath in, “He always pulled me into conversations with the team that I often felt left out of, being the only girl. I knew how he thought, I knew his type, and I knew how the entire bloody quidditch team felt about mesmerising Mary Mcdonald. They’d all ask me about you, what the best way to your heart was, how interested I thought you’d be in them, whether you’re interested in hookups or dating. So the moment you told me you liked him, my heart fucking broke, because I knew he thought you were gorgeous. I knew if you expressed any interest in him, he’d fucking pounce. And he did.” 

Mary swallowed the lump in her throat, wiping her tears on the sleeve of her shoulder. Behind her, she heard the bed creak under Marlene's weight. She sniffled and breathed, finding her next words. 

“I told him not to, you know? I said it would be a bad idea- that it would fuck everything up. But he didn’t listen, the arrogant bastard. No doubt James’ doing, the romantic that he is. You know, I thought he’d come yell at me, after that first date of yours, after you and I fought about it. But you didn’t tell him. You didn’t tell him how much of a cunt I was being to you, and he had absolutely no idea why I stopped talking to him.” Marlene sighed and stood up again, her feet pattering on the hardwood floors, “You broke my heart, Mary… being with him. I’m in love, and it fucking hurts.” 

Mary bit down on her lip and ignored the ache in her chest, her heart cut in two by the jagged knife, wielded by Marlene's tongue, “I’m so sorry, Marlie… I- I had no idea-”

“I know you didn’t. You weren’t supposed to ever know, Mary.” Marlene said, shuffling closer, “You’re not supposed to find out. But I just… I’ve never been good at handling my emotions, and you know I get so hot headed. I’m sorry for the way I acted, it’s unforgivable, and childish, and stupid, and I have no excuse. I just- I… it hurts, Mary… have you ever been in love?” 

Mary nodded, looking forward at the poster of a muggle heartthrob hanging on the wall that her and Lily hung up together with giggles in their throats. She thought she was in love with him when she was thirteen, but of course it wasn’t love, it was just obsession. 

But this… the way she feels about Marlene, that’s beyond obsession. It’s carnal desire, dripping poison. It aches and it stings and it pulls at her until there's nothing left. It’s love, love she feels so deeply, love she didn’t know she needed until it was too late. Much too late. She’ll never get it back. 

“Were you in love with him?” Marlene asked, “Sirius?” 

“I don’t know.” Mary sobbed, “I don’t know… but I have felt love, Marlene. I know how much it hurts. I know… I know.”

Behind her, Marlene took a deep breath, “You know how much it controls you then? The pain?”

“Yes.” Mary nodded, “It makes you feel fucking crazy.” 

Marlene sniffled, “Oh, you were never meant to know, Mary. This ruins everything.” 

“It doesn’t.” Mary sobbed, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as she couldn’t contain it anymore. Everything aches, “It doesn’t, I promise. You can… Marlene, if you love him, you should tell-”

Marlene snickered, shuffling closer, pressing her forehead to the back of Mary's head, “I don’t love him, Mary.” She whispered, pressing closer, their bodies so close that Mary can feel the warmth radiating off her. Marlene took a deep inhale, burying her face in Mary’s curls before she let out a broken sob, “It’s not him I love, sweetheart.” 

Mary freezes. 

Her body goes rigid, tight and stiff, her seemingly endless stream of tears coming to a screeching halt. She feels Marlene let out a heavy breath, the warmth heating the back of her neck. She can sense Marlene struggling, knows her hands are clenching and unclenching at her sides, debating whether or not to reach out and touch. 

But Mary is quite simply frozen. Even the two halves of a heart in her chest had stopped still for a moment. It all clicks into place, once a simple answer to this impossible equation; Marlene is in love with Mary, just as Mary’s in love with Marlene. 

And all it took to get here were two broken hearts and a five month long fight. 

And where is “here” anyway? The hollow dormroom they stand in? In this bubble with Marlene pressed to her back, wondering if she can risk pressing closer? On this bridge between broken hearts they’ve slowly begun to build? Or is it in the stitchings of Mary’s heart as it mends itself back together in her chest? Because Marlene loves her, she’s in love with her, just as Mary is. 

“Here”, wherever it is, is the only place Mary ever wants to be. 

All this wanting created all this fighting, and now all this fighting means a whole lot of making up. 

Mary thinks this makeup is going to be her favourite makeup of all. 

“You’re in love with me?” Mary whispered, pure awe dripping from her voice as she reached back to grab Marlene's hands. 

Marlene tenses, her hands stiff in place, reluctant to let Mary move her, “Yes?” 

“Well, are you certain, or not?” Mary asked, turning her head slightly to look back at the other girl. They locked eyes for a moment, and Mary lifted an eyebrow in mock curiosity, “Because if you’re not completely sure, then you’ve got a really shitty reason to go and fuck everything up.” 

“I’m sure.” Marlene muttered, her crystal eyes locked onto Mary’s, “I’m… I love you- fuck, that’s… I never thought I’d say that to you. Romantically. I never thought I'd confess.” 

“Why not?” Mary asked, gently rubbing her thumb over the back of Marlene's palm. 

“Because…” Marlene furrowed her brow, a sad smile creeping onto her face, “I’m not stupid, Mary. You like boys- and even if you didn’t, even if you somehow managed to be the only other queer in this bloody school, the chance of you loving me? I know it would never happen. I thought I made peace with that, but… Sirius mucked it all up.” 

Mary gave her a small smile, “Sirius is a mess like that.” 

Marlene nodded. 

“You know… you’re not the only queer. They’re everywhere.” 

Marlene snickered, “Yeah, sure. Old McGonagall’s a lesbian, is she? Grading papers by day, minge licking by night?” 

Mary furrowed her brow, “Marlie… McGonagall is a lesbian.”

“No she’s not.” Marlene said with a smile. Mary watched as it slowly faded, “No she’s not.” 

“Why do you think she has that photo frame of her and Madame Pomfrey hugging on her desk- what do you think their five o’clock undisturbed tea times every evening are?” 

“What?” Marlene gasped, “She’s not- don’t joke with me, Mary-”

“I’m surprised you don’t know this- it’s common gossip, Marls. Ask anyone.” 

“Bloody hell.” Marlene said, swiping a hand through her hair, “Is that why she sat me down and said she sees herself in me- oh Merlin, that conversation makes so much more sense now.”

“Marlene!” Mary laughed, spinning around to face her, “Did McGonagall talk to you about her experience as a lesbian without you… picking up on the fact that she’s a lesbian?” 

“Apparently!” Marlene gasped, running her strong hands over her face, “Oh, that’s awful- I’ve got to talk to her. I was so weird.” 

“You git.” Mary snickered, “Trust you to miss a massive sign like that.” 

“Yeah, I would, wouldn’t I?” Marlene sighed. 

“I- uhm… I don’t know how you feel about Sirius at the moment, Marlene, but… if you find yourself being friends again, maybe… you know… keep your eyes open for sign-”

“Sirius?” Marlene gasped, taking a step back, “But you two- he likes girls…. He-”

“You can like both, you know.” Mary said, setting her hands on her hips as she gave Marlene a stern glare, looking down at her, since just a smidgen taller, “You know Bowie? The one Remus is so obsessed with? He likes both, it’s called bisexual.” 

“Oh.” Marlene said, furrowing her brow as she looked to the ground. 

“Point is… I don’t think Sirius knows that Sirius is bisexual yet, but, uhm… you know, he talked an awful lot about one of his very male friends. And a lot of those conversations consisted of language like handsome, and brilliant, and hot.”

“Oh.” Marlene sighed, “You know, come to think of it, he’s said a lot of similar things about the blokes on the quidditch team. I always assumed he was trying to talk them up for me, and doing a very bad job at it…” 

“Poor thing.” Mary sighed, dropping her hands from her hips, “Anyway, you’re not alone, Marlene. Never have been.” 

Marlene nodded, the mood suddenly sombre again. She fiddled with her thumb ring, “You… you don’t hate me?” 

“Why would I hate you? You’re my best friend. I love you through everything, just as Lily does. You know this.” Mary said, smiling kindly at the beautiful mess she fell in love with. 

“Because I’m a lesbian.” Marlene shrugged, “I thought…”

“Well, I don’t hate you.” Mary said quietly, “Never could.” 

Marlene nodded, “And I’m in love with you.” 

“How’s that any reason to hate you?” 

“Because I’m creepy.” Marlene said, eyes wide as she looked at Mary, “I’m… weird. I start fights with you just so we can make up and be close to one another.” 

Mary closed her eyes, trying to fight off the most radiant smile she’d ever found herself smiling. It’s embarrassing, really, how smitten she is right at this moment. 

They’re hopeless. 

Terribly fucking hopeless, both desperately clinging to one another, trying to get all that they can. Savouring every moment shared together, clinging, begging for just a little bit more. 

Things don’t feel so hopeless anymore. 

“Just so you'll… you’ll brush my hair and run your lovely hands through it.” Marlene whispered, gently taking Mary by the hands, brushing her calloused thumbs over the soft skin of her knuckles. “So that you might lay on my chest, so I can breathe in the smell of you, and play with the ends of your hair- how do you get it so soft, Mary? It’s so soft.” 

“Because I look after it.” Mary said with a mocking smile. 

Marlene rolled her eyes, a small smile curling up the ends of her pink lips. They’re a little chapped, as they usually are. Mary had gotten into the habit of handing Marlene her lipbalm everytime she happened to reapply, but months apart, she’s clearly severely been lacking in it. 

Mary reached into her pocket and pulled the lipbalm out, handing it over to Marlene with a huff. 

Marlene rolled her eyes and applied it, smacking her lips together, “Hmm, berry?”

“Gooseberry pie.” Mary offered, “It’s new.” 

“It’s nice.” Marlene gave a shy smile, handing the lipbalm back, “Missed your lip balm… yet another reason I’m a creep. I don’t understand why you’re not mad.” 

“Marlene…” Mary took her hands gently again, “Why would I be mad at someone for being in love with me?”

Marlene rolled her eyes and grumbled, shaking their joined hands in frustration, “Because I’m a weirdo who only puts your lip balm on so I might know what it tastes like to kiss you.” 

“Does it taste nice enough to kiss?” Mary asked, blinking her eyes up at Marlene as she made herself small. 

“Obviously.” Marlene sighed, bowing her head in shame, “I want to kiss you all the time, Mary. I’m just… awful- why’d you give that to me? I was getting used to not knowing.” 

Mary smiled, shuffling a little closer, “So your lips wouldn’t be all gross and dry when I kiss you.” 

“Yeah, righ-” Marlene gasped, the breath seemingly punched from her lungs when Mary pressed their lips together, “Mary!” 

Mary pulled back, holding Marlene's hands tight down by their sides, “Marlene?”

“Don’t…” Marlene muttered, “Don’t fuck with me.” 

“I’m not fucking with you, Marlie.” Mary whispered, leaning in to brush their noses together again, “You’re the entire fucking reason I broke up with him. Your… infuriating attitude and absence in my life made me realise how much I miss you- how much I need you. I missed our fights, because I missed making up too. I realised I used to start fights, just to get close to you after. I love you, Marlene. I mean it.”

“Double swear it?” Marlene asked, her voice breathless and awe struck. 

“Triple.” Mary muttered, “I swear it on Lily’s life.” 

“Fuck.” She whispered, dropping Mary’s hands to grab her by the face and tug. 

Mary had never had a kiss to earth-shatteringly magnificent. This kiss has nothing on the movies. Marlene holds her tight in her grasp, like a treasure she’s terrified of dropping. She’s pressed so close that the only thing Mary can feel is Marlene, she’s all she knows at this moment. She kisses hard, and desperate, with teeth and tongue and bite. It’s rough and ruthless and so fucking perfect, far beyond anything Mary had ever dreamed of. 

She buries her hands in Marlene's tousled hair and tugs, pressing her body into the shape of Marlenes, slotting together as if they were made for one another. Marlene makes a needy sound into Mary’s mouth that has her legs beginning to buckle and her head spinning with want. 

They go stumbling back, collapsing down onto Marlene's bed, where they draw the curtains and don’t emerge until morning. It’s definitely Mary’s favourite way of making up now.

☆ ★ ☆

thanks for reading!! comments and reblogs are always very very appreciated and i love reading all that you have to say!

this was my firs wlw centric fic actually so im really excited to be posting it! and i promise im not projecting my own failed lesbian highschool lovestory onto it at all.

anyway, hope you enjoyed the readdddd!!

read here on ao3 :)

#fight & make up #jay writes #marylene #mary mcdonald #marlene mckinnon #mary x marlene #lily evans #sirius black #wlw ship #marauders #the marauders #fic #ao3 fic #marylene fic #rarepair #rarepair fic #mary macdonald #minnie mcgonagall #the valkyries #marauders era #marauders fic #dead gay witches #fan fiction

[marauderstars]

Fic excerpt:

“Do you think Regulus is better looking than Sirius?” James asks.

Remus looks at him, aghast. “Nobody’s better looking than Sirius, Prongs,” he says as though it’s a fact. Which it is.

#fan fiction #wolfstar #jegulus #starchaser #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #remus x sirius #harry potter #hp marauders #marauders era #marauders #the marauders #regulus and james #regulus black #jegulus fandom #marauders fandom

[jeansworld16]

I think a lot of people who have mental health problems like fan fiction because it gets them out of reality and feels like a safe space (I am also talking about my self so dont be mad this so just what I think)

#mental illness #marauders era #jegulus #wolfstar #marauders #sirius black #james potter #regulus black #remus lupin #harry potter #fan fiction #fan fic writing #mental health #talking about myself

[futurequibblerjournalist]

“Oh, so you read fan fiction before bed too as a little bedtime story, what do you usually read, some cute fluff maybe?”

I need a specifically curated story about my favourite evil twink taking it up the stink star

#yes this is about barty #yes i do indeed need more bottom barty fics im begging pls #ass up baby girl #marauders era #marauders #hp marauders #rosekiller #hp #barty crouch jr #barty crouch junior #harry potter #fan fiction

[timotheechlamett]

PUPPY LOVE

i’m back (kinda but not fr)! a short poly wolfstar for you 💗

WARNINGS: GRAPHIC SMUT, polyamory, p in v, anal, soft dom!sirius, soft dom!remus, sub!reader, pet names (pup, puppy), praise kink, first threesome, not proofread srry

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I had imagined my first time with them. I had imagined what it would feel like, what it would be like, I had never been with two people at once. But nothing compared to the real thing at all, not even my wildest dreams.

I feel the sweat nearly dripping off Sirius’ bare chest, my entire backside becoming damp.

“That’s it, taking Rem so well baby,” Sirius praises, “Such a good fucking girl.”

I can’t help how I clench around Remus at the praise, he pulls out slowly only to slam back into my leaking hole, “So fucking tight, so wet, so good-“ Remus moans, picking up his pace and taking one of my peaked nipples in his mouth and smacking my ass. I can feel myself about to burst.

As he pulls out again I can feel his cock twitching, one more stroke and I-, “Can’t make Remy cum so fast pup,” Sirius tuts and pulls me toward him with enough force to sit me up, off of Remus. I clench around nothing, a ruined orgasm and the empty feeling drawls pathetic whines from my throat.

“That tight little pussy is too much for him, huh?” Sirius coos running his free hand down my stomach to my heat making lazy circles into my clit, sucking harsh bruises on my neck.

He releases the delicate skin between his teeth, “Do you trust me puppy?” Sirius says softly into my ear.

I nod unable to give him much else, he slides a digit into my hole slowly, I gasp at the feeling.

“Words, baby, use your words.” Sirius kisses the back of my neck, Remus rubs my thighs up and down as he calms himself.

“Answer him.” Remus pinches the inside of my thigh harshly.

“Y-yes, trust-trust you Siri.” I managed to get out.

That was all it took for him to maneuver me onto my hands and knees, Remus underneath me, Sirius behind me.

“We’ll take care of you,” Sirius pushes me forward to hover over Remus. Sirius wets my hole before slowly pushing the tip of his length into my ass, at the same time Remus pushes back in to my sopping pussy.

I whimper at the burn of Sirius pushing in and in the same breath let out an unholy moan as Remus bottoms out. A string of incoherent babbling, as they slowly rut against me in sync, is all i’m capable of.

Both of them thick and long inside of me, stroking every place I need them, the heads of their cocks splitting me open again with every thrust. The stimulation is almost too much, I let myself cry out in pleasure, I grip the sheets tightly between my fingers and use all my strength to keep myself up.

“Think we’ve fucked her dumb, Pads.” Remus grips both ass cheeks and spreads them apart, Sirius pushes inside me until he’s flush against me, “That’s the point Moons.” I could hear the smirk in their voices.

Remus brings a hand to my neck pressing on the sides and pushing my head backwards, he slips one of my nipples into his mouth. Sirius grips a handful of hair, pulling until my back is arched completely, his fingertips digging into my hip so hard I can feel the bruising.

They both fuck into me at an ungodly pace and I feel myself clench around them both as they bring me to my peak within seconds.

“Aw poor pup, is it too much?” Sirius taunts.

“I can’t- Too big-“ I sputter.

“You can take it, you’re out good girl right?” Remus mumbles, his strokes deeper and harder than before.

“Wanna be our good girl huh pup?” Sirius moans.

“Good girl, wanna be y’good girl.” I moan breathlessly.

I feel the coil in my stomach twist tighter and tighter until I can’t hold it anymore, with both of them bottoming out the coil snaps and my climax hits me so hard I see white.

I feel my own wetness soak all of us as I nearly scream both of their names, they don’t stop and I keep drenching them in my release.

“Fuck, look at you.” Sirius groans, biting my back.

“Squirting all over us like a good little puppy, hm?” Remus holds my now limp body up.

“Let’s see how many times you can do it for us.”

#wolfstar #poly!wolfstar #sirius black x reader #sirius black fic #sirius black x you #sirius black fan fiction #sirius black smut #dom!sirius black #sirius black x remus lupin #poly marauders #poly marauders fic #remus lupin fanfiction #poly marauders smut #dom!remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fic #remus lupin x you #remus lupin smut #remus lupin x sirius black #marauders era smut #marauders era fic #marauders era fanfiction #harry potter marauders #remus lupin x sirius black x reader #sirius black x remus lupin x reader

[msmoony7]

born to read fanfic forced to work💔💔💔

#harry potter #marauders #marauders fanfic #hogwarts fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #archive of our own #fan fiction #fan fic #the marauders era #the marauders #marauders fandom #marauders fanfiction #crimson rivers #atyd #hogwarts #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry

[fictive-fodder]

Can I get 12 for Remus Lupin? I really love Painting and I got so excited when he showed up in Second Sight!!! I love your writing!

I’m celebrating gaining 100 followers! Click here for the details!

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There is no way of overstating how much this request got away from me. I really hope you like this because there is so, so much of it. It *really* got away from me- to the point where I feel bad because I'm not sure it even counts, that it even fits into the prompt "things you said while i cried in your arms" -- it is it's own whole moment now. All I can say is that, even if it's not sequitur to the original prompt, I hope at least you can enjoy where my mind ran with it. As a note, this isn't my version of Remus from Painting. It's the first Remus characterization I've written that's deviated from my version of him in Painting. It's also the first time I've written a fic from the character's point of view- so it could be a wild mess or it could be interesting to know Remus' inner dialogue... I hope its the later. I'm so sorry?

Warnings : violence, blood, gore

When I finally managed to crack my eyes open, I immediately recoiled as dawn flooded my sight, bleaching white the surrounding forest. The earth beneath me felt soft and cold against my bare chest as I slowly and stiffly pulled myself to sit up. All full moons were horrible, but last night I had nowhere to go. James, Lily and little Harry had been in hiding for months, Sirius was on a mission for the order, and no one was sure where Peter had been for the last week… not that I would have let them host me, anyway. 

I looked down at my mud stained legs and all relief I usually felt that the moon was over abated. At times, I found it very, very difficult to resist being completely consumed by the notion that my whole life was shaped by cruel irony. A father, loved for his vigilance against lycanthropes, who’d successfully lobbied them into the ground- and a werewolf, vengeful and dionysian, who showed that father how very fragile the concept of law was when met against the snap of jaws. 

This forest was full of other werewolves who had used its dense trees and deep caves as a refuge for when the full moon came. It had become something of a society, with some werewolves coming to live there, and others only visiting to keep their families and friends safe. I had been asked to go and gain the trust of my peers, but for months they had kept their distance. I couldn’t blame them- it was difficult for me to hide my hatred for my own kind, the loathing wrought clearly on my face whenever notions of Werewolf Culture were introduced. Even the phrase left a bad taste on my tongue.

This was made all the worse once they learned my name. Lupin? They’d scoff, Ah it’s Lyle’s boy- and I would watch the malice fill their eyes. I couldn’t blame them for this either.

A high, shrill scream echoed through the trees in waves. Unthinking, I jumped up, and a dart of red hot disgust pulsed through me as I fell to all fours. Grimacing, I pushed myself up onto my legs. There were always a few canine tendencies that lingered shortly after the moon fell. To me, this is far worse than the pain. 

Another scream, this one broke half way, as if the bearer had been tugged or pushed. The horrible sound was nearly drowned out by my heart beating in my ears. 

“HELLO?” I called, pivoting as my voice bounced off the trees, “WHERE ARE YOU?”

I didn’t have anything with me, except for trousers and my wand. Despite this, I started to run in the direction I thought the scream came from, barefoot, panic gripping me like a vice around the middle, my breathing shallow and fast. “HELLO?” I yelled again. 

“Help me!“ the voice cried. I moved faster, hyper alert as I flew over root and bramble.  Another scream- this one more wet sounding than the last. 

“HOLD ON!” I cried, my eyes widened as a metallic scent filled my nose. “I’M COMING-”

I crashed past a cluster of young trees and tripped into a dry creek bed. My bare foot splashed into a puddle of warm blood that trailed up creek to where you had fallen. I froze still, looking down at you wide eyed, shaking, breathing hard. Shock blurred everything over except for the sight of you laying prone, dragging yourself backwards with your arms. In your lap an opaque pool of blood was welling up quickly. As you jerked yourself away in panic, your blood splashed thickly over your hips, lapping nauseatingly as it spilled over the side of your thigh. Your blood fell against the deciduous earth beneath you with heavy, wet thuds. 

“No-” I breathed as our eyes met. Terror filled your face as your gaze darted to the right of me and I turned just quick enough to see a wolf hiding away from dawn’s light lurch towards you. Without thinking, I jumped forward, putting myself between you and the wolf. 

Leaves stuck to my foot that had been caked in your blood. I spread my arms wide and high, making myself look as big as I could. “Common-” I heard myself snarl, voice all gravel, as I grimaced towards the shadowed lip of earth the wolf hid in. “Step out into the light- let’s see you.” 

The wolf growled low from the dark, its moon colored eyes glinting pale gold against the shadows. I could feel myself having to resist some terrible part of me that wanted to return the sound. Despite my immediate panic, I also felt like I was shamefully watching from outside myself. As if I could see more than feel, the hairs on my back rise, bristling, wolf-like despite the fact that I’d already changed back. The way my fingers curled, ready to bare down into flesh as if they were still claws. 

I realized that this must have been one of my peers that did all they could to preserve lycanthropic attributes after a full moon. My ears were sharply attuned to you as well, picking up every exhalation of pain, every small cry, as you did whatever you could to gain distance. It’s stupid, hungry eyes darted between me and what of you I could not hide, as the desire to maul you further fought against its wish to stay hidden. 

A twig cracked feebly under one of the wolf’s back legs, it lowered its body in preparation to bound forward. The sound brought me back to my senses and I lunged towards it in an attempt to shield you. You screamed as you saw it leap towards us, and then again as its mouth bit down on my forearm. It felt as if my arm was burning, as if a hot pan was pressed hard against me, a monumental, blistering weight. My teeth clenched painfully as I stifled a shout of pain, using my other arm to feebly pry its mouth open. I could see my blood flooding its mouth as I doubled over. The wolf jerked backward towards the shadows, taking me forward. I could hear the flesh of my arm rip as it did, and I abstractly marveled at how tight of a hold it had on my arm even while its mouth felt so wet. 

I leaned backwards, my feet taking small steps back to resist being pulled- but this was agony as every step I took let its teeth sink in more deeply. I wasn’t thinking of magic at all, the heat and weight of the bite consumed my whole being, except the frantic thought that I needed to free myself. As I stepped back, I pulled the wolf into the light. The dappled, weak sunlight filtered through the dense canopy and fell against me, against the wolf. I watched its eyes widen, its fur become loose, its bones begin to crack out of place. 

My free hand clenched into a fist and, rotating my shoulders as much as I could bare, I threw my weight into punching it in the eye. It yelped in a half human voice, releasing me in shock. I knew that this opportunity was precious and short, so I grabbed my wand as quickly as I could. My movements felt incredibly slow, I kept my wand trained on it, my grip slipping from either blood or sweat- I do not know. 

“Everte statum-“ I rasped, bowing my wand towards the wolf with a jab. The spell hit its hind legs and pushed it several paces back but largely left it unscathed. It was a little odd for me, to see what a werewolf looked like outside of myself. The matte black fur slipped perfectly into shadow, truly camouflaging it as soon as it was near darkness, and the eyes- an exact match of moon glow. 

It righted itself, I could tell that it was debating whether it could get away with dragging its prey off deeper into the woods, or if I wasn’t worth the trouble. The wolf was drunk with the scent and sight of our blood, wholly consumed by it. I knew that spells, all intended to harm humans, would do little against it while still mostly a wolf. I wondered if my father had ever developed any offensive spells designed for werewolves, might be worth asking the next time I saw him.  

I didn’t want to waste time fighting this thing off when you were in so much need of help and fast. If I could just get you away from this place so that more wolves wouldn’t be attracted by the blood- 

The sun was finally rising high into the sky, causing the dapples of light and shadow to deepen. The wolf was struggling against changing back, horrific shudders coursed through its body as the bones fought to crack back into a human shape. I knew I needed to come up with some way of getting us away from it, but with it still being resistant to spells, I felt trapped. Slowly, I took several paces backwards until I was standing beside you. The wolf did not like this, but you were in sunlight and it could not approach without revealing themself. Up until this point, I hadn’t had the wherewithal to feel angry. Everything had happened in a matter of seconds. But now- as the wolf struggled to stay a wolf for fear of revealing who they really were, fury ignited in me. I knew that there were werewolves who preyed upon people, who thrilled for a mouth full of hot human flesh, but to see it happen was another thing entirely. I couldn’t help but stare at them, revolted, as I watched them nervously bite their own legs and howl in frustration that I had kept what was left of you from them. And even worse- that they were so monstrous and cowardly to hide themselves from sunlight so I couldn’t identify them. 

Even though everything in me fought against turning my back to that wolf, I pivoted to face you. You seemed relieved to look upon me until your eyes were able to focus. Maybe it was just all the blood, but by the panic in your eyes I feared that part of me hadn’t yet changed back. 

I stared at you, too. I stared with fear filled eyes as I remembered being human, and only a human. I remembered the glint of fur by my bedroom window, and how pliable my clavicle was when met by tooth and jaw. I remember blinding pain, my mother’s screams and how much I wish it had only been those things. The apprehension that filled me now was for remembering what came after. 

I couldn’t tell you that you were going to be alright. 

Part of me wished you could have died there, ignorant of the agony you would come to learn. 

I couldn’t reassure you. All I could do was look in fear, desperate to warn you that so far that morning, you had not met the greatest pain you would know. 

“I’m sorry-” I gasped, falling to my knees before you. With tremendous effort, you raised one shaky arm up and pushed your fingers against my chest.

“Help. me.” you pleaded. 

But I knew then that the help I could offer would also doom you. 

What was done had been done.

The person you had woken up as was dead. 

You would live but you would never be the same. 

I leaned forward and threaded my arm behind your back as tenderly as I could. “Close your eyes-” I breathed. You complied. With a grunt, I managed to loop my other arm behind your knees and pull myself up so that I was carrying you, hugging you to my chest. 

The warmth and weight of your cheek against my shoulder caused tears to sting my eyes. “I’m going to take you to St. Mungos-“ I said, haggardly. “Keep your eyes closed, I’ve got you.” 

You nodded and groaned nauseously as my balance swayed. 

“I’m sorry-“ I repeated, my voice breaking.

I closed my eyes and concentrated on St. Mungos, wincing. I never thought twice about registering, but as I considered what you were soon to face, I understood a little more of why so many lycanthropes avoided registration. 

I thought of the white halls, stiff beds, sterile light- pain, endless bleeding, healers realizing that spells would not stitch these bites, that the blood would come until your body learned to heal itself. Sleeplessness, anger, and wondering how you could learn to say goodbye to the mode of life you’d known, you had made, and whatever you had wanted. 

The staff would avoid touching your blood in the fear that they could somehow expose themselves. Their nervous looks through windows and into the night sky. The timid glances that begged to know when you would be strong enough to leave their care and start life far away from them.

And then, the parchment would unfurl. Your name please. Where you live. What you do. The date of your incident. 

The Ministry did not require identification for wizardkind, unless you had lycanthropy. 

And then with a tug, we were there.  My arms were shaking. “Help them-“ I called, as everyone in the lobby turned and stared at us, gobsmacked. “HELP THEM!” I bellowed, and my injured arm gave out, your knees falling from my grasp. A welcome witch raised her wand at you and levitated you quickly to a room just past my sight. 

I don’t remember when or how the lobby became empty, how fast it may have happened. But the next thing I knew, there was only a healer and myself. He was asking me for details. I could hear you down the hall, sobbing loudly, as healers hushed you, murmuring worriedly as their charms failed to have any effect. 

“Your name, Sir?” he asked, his voice firm. 

“Lupin.” I muttered. I stared at his hands. He had come into the room holding a thick stack of parchment, his fingers carded through the feathered corners of each page. But, once I gave my surname his hands stopped moving all together. “Ah. I see. And… for the sake of the patient, do you remember how long ago it was that you bit them?” 

This, I had not considered. Foolish of me. 

I managed to look into his eyes. I thought my expression had been neutral, but whatever he saw in my face made him take a step back. 

“What is the point of asking?” My voice sounded worn, so tired and low. I wanted to blame him for assuming I had bitten you, but I couldn’t. Why wouldn’t he think that? It was an easy conjecture to make, that one plus one still equaled two. 

It was then that I noticed we weren’t alone at all. Just past the lobby a crowd of dark cloaked silhouettes stood by. Ministry brutes. They had quietly emptied the room in case I resisted arrest. 

I leaned over and nodded to them as a greeting. “This isn’t necessary.” I said, looking back to the healer. If I’d had any more energy, any more presence of mind, I would have been ashamed and mortified to have so many people looking at me and only seeing a werewolf. I have always taken such great care to simultaneously hide and distinguish myself from the others- and this moment had rendered that effort wasted, but I had no wherewithal to acknowledge it. There was just this man and your nearby screams. 

“Before anything, let’s take care of that arm.” he said, leading me past the ministry officials, past the room you were in, and gestured for me to sit on the corner of a bed. I complied, looking back over my shoulder to the door as the healer conjured bandages and coated them in a balm of aconite. I could see some of the ministry workers leaning into your room, faces paling at what they saw. 

It was hard not to cringe in empathy every time you wailed with pain. Through your sobs, I slowly began to hear words. As if you were desperate for someone to understand, you repeated the sounds over and over, becoming increasingly more frantic. I couldn’t have that.

Pulling my arm away from the healer, my legs pushed me up and through the corridor before I had the time to think. I shouldered my way through the black cloaks and into your room. They must have shouted at me, commanded me not to approach you, or protested in fear that I had come to finish what they thought I had started, but I couldn’t hear any of it.

Your legs were shaking violently with shock as the healers tried to clean you off. Blood still poured from your abdomen, leaked from your mouth, covering the mattress as if your wounds were fresh. The healers looked lost and overwhelmed. Despite all I knew, it still made me angry that they had done so little for you. 

You looked over at me, wild eyes overbright, and somehow summoned the ability to reach your arms out to me. 

“No-” I breathed, my heart felt as if it had flattened against my spine at your gesture. “Stay still.” I begged, quickly ducking to your side, gathering your hands as carefully as I could in my own. Now that I could see you, the words you’d been crying made sense, I could read your lips. 

“It wasn’t him!” you sobbed hoarsely, you gripped my palms with surprising strength, fingers trembling. 

“I’m here-” I offered weakly. I moved to sit on the corner of your bed, above your pillow.

Your hands dragged down my arms, pulling me until I was leaning over you from above, my forehead resting against yours. I tried to be as responsive as I could as quickly as possible, fearing that you’d harm yourself further with the exertion. 

I could feel your brow tremble against mine. A terrible strain grew from the pit of my stomach up through my throat- I wanted so much to offer you some, any comfort. But my own life had spoiled me for it- how could I tell you that you would be alright? What could I say that wasn’t a lie?

What had I wished to hear when it was me?

“I know that you do not know me…” I began, my voice shook. “But I am here for you, and I will not leave you. I will do all I can to h-help you.” I blinked back tears. The last thing you needed was for some strange man to cry on you upside down as you bled out. 

Feeling useless, I repeated this over and over and over again. I whispered it against your cheek, and felt your breath against my neck change from frantic and irregular to soft and slow. You shook less. The healers began to clean you up again. 

Half way through your waist being bandaged, your hands fell from their vice grip on my shoulders. Your eyes had closed. I pulled away from you very slowly, glancing at the healers. They nodded, and gestured to a bottle of Sleep Draught. 

“Thank you for all of your help-” One of the healers said meekly, as she finished bandaging my arm. “I’ve been asked to tell you that there is a visitor waiting for you in your room.” 

“What?” I asked, incredulously. 

The lobby was empty again, so was the corridor, but the Ministry would come back to ask its questions. I walked back to the neighboring room slowly, gripping my wand. The door was ajar, I peered past it, eyes narrow. Just beyond the first bed a figure was looking through the window on the far wall. The afternoon light eclipsed them, but I could have spotted that messy hair from miles away. 

“James?” The name fell from me more than having spoken it. I wondered then if this was a dream, or if at some point in the day, I had lost consciousness and was now in some fugue state- either explanation would be more convincing than James just… being there. 

“Mooney!” he greeted, pivoting towards me. 

“What- How on earth?” I started, my mouth falling open, but before I could say anything more James had closed the distance between us and pulled me into a crushing embrace. 

“The welcome witch is a part of The Order and recognized you.” James explained, his grip on me unyielding. “She sent me a patronus.” 

“But you’re- you’re supposed to be hiding.” I retorted into his shoulder. “This is so dangerous-“ 

“No.” James said firmly, squeezing me in emphasis. “I will be fine.” 

I reckoned James felt like whatever danger he was putting himself in by coming to my side was less trouble than the risk he feared I faced by being alone. He had seen me through a lot, my worst up until that point, to be sure. If there was anyone that I felt comfortable enough sharing my most painful thoughts with, it was him. James shook off despair like no other and had an annoying knack for always finding the right words to keep hope alive in me. 

I would never have asked this of him. I could have been on the brink of death and preferred for James to stay hidden- which is why I was finding it difficult to stay present- to believe that this was really happening. 

“It’s- it’s, um.” my throat felt like it was going to split in half. “It is so good to see you-“ I choked, tears flooding my eyes. I had never cried like this to him, to anyone- but I couldn’t control it. My whole body shuddered against him. 

“Why do people always cry when I show up? Or is it the hugs? I’m a bad hugger?” James murmured, loosening the embrace just enough to smile at me. Despite all the stress he’d undergone he looked good. My chest felt lighter at the sight of his smile. He glanced down at his shoulder, his robes now wet with my tears and shrugged. “You know, I’ll take this over most of the fluids spewn at me these days.” 

“Harry is giving you as much work as is good for you, then?” 

“No, Lily has taken to spitting at me-“ he could hardly finish his own sentence before chucking. “Like a llama.”

I rolled my eyes, laughing too. James pulled me down to sit on the side of the nearby bed with him. A quiet calm prevailed where I basked thoughtlessly and blissfully in his company. 

“Werewolf or not- I am the worst person to go out into the woods and talk to other lycanthropes on behalf of the order.” I started with a sigh. 

“We had to find some way to take that whopping chip off your shoulder, mate.”

We laughed again. Another silence. James was so much better with patience than he used to be, he was hardly fidgeting at all. 

“They see right through me. And I don't make it hard for them. Hating werewolves was our family’s legacy- and would still be if not for-“ I shook my head. How could I complain when you were in the next room, half torn open?

“You know, I remember the first time I learned about werewolves. I’d seen this frightful headline in the Prophet.” James started, “I was quite young then, and I hate to admit this but, it was only a few years ago that I realized that article had been about you.” 

I scoffed, shaking my head. I remembered the press crowding my hospital room, their questions half eulogy half sensationalism. How I had been branded as an unprecedented tragedy, a martyr for innocence, a token for what happens when society allows monsters to live. And then that disappeared and there was no one asking questions, not a newspaper in sight, no hospital visits, no interview requests- my fate had been set. It took me weeks to realize that my home and my parents were the only parts of the world I would ever have access to again, the only parts of the world that would welcome me.  

“I don’t mean frightful because of what happened to you.” James clarified, nudging his shoulder against mine. “It was the way this article finished. They had said that the real answer to lycanthropy, the only way to heal those afflicted and include them in society, was for society to acknowledge that it wasn’t a small group of people who had it, but that we all do.” “For Godrick’s sake-” I laughed, glancing at him. 

“I know.” he chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s bad. I remember it confusing me- I think that’s why it has stuck this whole time. Can we really not care about a cause unless it affects us? We have to go on this whole charade.” 

I wiped my face with my hands, sighing against my palms. 

“Anyways,” James sighed too, “growing up with you has been a real education on it all. You’ve trusted me with a lot, Remus.” 

I swallowed dryly, feeling my eyes sting again. I shook my head. “Yea.” James insisted, raising an eyebrow. “And I think the lack of care lycanthropes have, the lack of service that really is owed to them-” 

“You don’t have to say anything more, James- it’s alright.” I interrupted. James shook his head, his hand coming to grip my knee. 

“I’m not going to say that it’s been so unfair and all.” he said quickly, voice low. “What I want to say is that I have watched you do the things werewolves aren’t supposed to be able to do. You have friends, you went to school, you’re a bloody great wizard.” 

I was beginning to enjoy this less and less. I didn’t need my friend, who was supposed to be hiding from Voldemort himself, giving me a pep talk. James could tell I was becoming willful, unwilling to listen, he pushed on. 

“You’re not scary, you’re not immoral, but I know that you- I know that you struggle, Rem.” 

I looked up at the ceiling. 

“You’ve succeeded where society has been designed to fail you. You’re strong enough to overcome having less rights, less opportunity, but for as long as I’ve known you, I’ve seen-”

“I know it wasn’t my fault.” I said quietly. A phrase I’d said so many times before. 

“That’s not what I am talking about! I’m not talking about you as a werewolf, I’m talking about you as a person. You’ll champion me, Sirius, Peter… you even stuck up for Snape, but you won’t champion yourself.” James’ voice rose, “And you should. I don’t worry for Remus Lupin the little boy who was bitten, I worry for my friend that has had to focus on so many other things in his life, it seems he never learned how to take care of himself.. your humanity. In your personhood.” 

James looked at me then, his dark eyes full of frustration. I sat back from him slightly, surprised that he suddenly seemed ready to explode with the strength of his feelings. 

“You think you hate werewolves but I don’t believe it. You hate yourself, and you tell yourself it's because of what happened, what you become- but it's not, not really. You’re not going to like yourself more by curing your lycanthropy, you’re going to like yourself more if you focus on yourself more than your pain. Feel it- it’s fine to feel the pain and the frustration and hate how it works, but it can’t be everything or you’ll lose yourself. I’ll lose you, and I can’t.”  

All I could do was stare at him, my mouth open stupidly. I felt frantic but also heavy, I felt like I would never sleep again but also like I could have passed out then and there. I wanted him to know how much I appreciated him, what he was trying to say but I also wanted to disappear. 

“Lily should have come instead of me, she’s better at comfort-” James groaned, his brow slanting upwards with emotion. He shook his head disappointedly. “I don’t want to criticize you. I just- I don’t get scared very often but, I need you to know this. I don’t think you see it, and I need you to start trying to-” he made a frustrated gesture with his hands. 

I nodded, my face hot. I’m not sure if I was nodding because I just wanted James to feel reassured, or if in that moment I thought I could do what he was asking of me. 

“I know I picked quite the day to say this.” he mumbled, “But when I saw you I just got- fuck it, I got scared Mooney.” 

“It’s alright.” I offered weakly. Another long silence passed, this one wore on me however, strained my nerves. I didn’t really know what to say, I didn’t really know if I agreed, but I wanted James to know that I acknowledged everything he’d tried so hard to communicate, that I appreciated it. “I love you too, James.”

“I know. How else could I have gotten away with all this?” he replied, smiling. His eyes were red now, too. 

I laughed, but it sounded more like a sniffle. I shook my head at him. 

“You need to promise me that you will try.” James said, clearing his throat. I heard you mumble in your sleep from the next room. I could feel James’ eyes on me as I leaned to glance at you through the doorway, making sure you were still asleep. 

“I can promise that.” I said, nodding. 

I had fallen asleep shortly after pulling a chair to the side of your bed. James’ words were spinning in my mind as I folded my arms on the side of your mattress and rested my head against them. 

When I woke up you were watching me drowsily. I blinked several times, trying to remember where I was. As I sat up, it all came rushing back- the look on my face must have concerned you because you reached out and grabbed my hand. 

“I’m here-” I assured, leaning over. “Good morning. You made it through the first day.” 

Guilt overwhelmed me as you smiled at me. You would never know how cruel my thoughts had been to you; wishing you would die to not know further pain- it was such a low, dark thought. Maybe James had been right, maybe I’d attributed my woes to my affliction, when really it was who I was that needed healing. You, on the other hand, were already smiling. Yesterday I would have thought that came from defiance, from having to force yourself to disregard the pain, to distract yourself- but today it occurred to me that you may have had an abundance of grace I’d apparently lacked. 

Gently, you squeezed my hand and I smiled back.

#Remus Lupin #Remus lupin imagine #marauders era fan fiction #maruaders fan fiction #remusxreader #remus lupin x you #violence #blood #gore #fictive-fodder #fictive fodder #james potter

[atlasofearth]

new starchaser fic!!

James and Regulus never spared each other more than a glance, now they find themselves unable to think of anything but the other. The war is just beginning, and they find comfort in each other. Until there’s no more comfort to be found.

or

Regulus Black’s night gets interrupted.

James Potter finds an unexpected person on a late night walk.

Relationships start.

this fic has been brewing in my notes for a long while and i’ve finally decided to post it!! two chapters r out as of rn and hopefully more will be uploaded soon 🫡

this fic focuses mostly on jegulus but as the story goes on every character/ship will be talked about and explored more

#marauders #marauders era #the marauders #marauders fandom #james potter #regulus black #james x regulus #james potter x regulus black #dorlene #rosekiller #marlene mckinnon #dorcas meadowes #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar #barty crouch jr #evan rosier #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #fan fiction #ao3fic #marauders fanfic

[strangetrashpatrol]

#james potter #peter pettigrew #remus john lupin #bookworm #aesthetic #quotes #remus lupin #booklr #books & libraries #sirius black #the marauders fan fiction #the marauders #dead gay wizards #marauders fandom #marauders era #regulus black #marauders #the marauders fic #the marauders fanfiction

[ashes-to-ashesxx]

one of my fic icks is when ppl write one of the characters accidently drinking amortentia and just being extra lovey dovey

amortentia is THE STRONGEST LOVE POTION in the whole world!!!!

#the marauders #marauders #marauders era #dead gay wizards #fuck jkr #amortentia #harry potter #fan fiction

[starchaserdreams]

Tag yourself for fanfiction, I'm at 7

#archive of our own #ao3 #i spent a solid six years in stage 6 #hard to imagine now #but i just didnt engage with fanfiction at all #and now.... #it is life #marauders #marauders era #wolfstar #jegulus #starchaser #sunseeker #fan culture #fandom #fanfiction #fan fiction #fic #fanfic #microfic