#Wolfstar if you squint

[spindrifters]

I've been doing battle with my internet all day to get this up for Lynxmas. I would not be bested!! I refused and I persevered!! So a very happy birthday from me and the rowdy 11 year olds to our favorite barwench humble forest cat @lynxindisguise!!

There’s a peculiar shuffle to sharing one’s room, a frenzy of activity when it comes to four boys squashed into a rather small circular dorm that puts Remus—not only used to the solitude of his own little cottage bedroom, but raised without so much as a single other child his own age for at least ten miles in each direction—decidedly on edge.

It’s a continuation of the chaos from the welcoming feast, where the newly-sorted Gryffindor boys had quickly found their stride and accompanying role in the ecosystem. James and Sirius, no longer competing over who could eat more chicken thighs but still loudly trying to one-up each other’s boasts about feats of accidental magic. Peter, scrabbling to get a word in while his eyes gleamed with excitement each time one of them noticed. And Remus, the impulse to join in the fun warring with Dad’s gentle word of warning before he climbed on the train earlier in the day—can’t be too careful, lad.

He pushes that to the side, focusing instead on finding his plush grindylow Raccoon at the bottom of his trunk. It’s a poor replacement for Jeff, the very real grindylow who lives at the bottom of his garden pond and who he already misses something fierce—and he is not going to let the other boys see that he brought a stuffed animal with him to school, thank you very much—but still. It helps to know that Raccoon’s there. It helps to know he'll have at least one friend at school.

Because Peter’s nice, but he and James are already friends from growing up, and Sirius and James… Well, he supposes they mean well, but with their shining black shoes and posh accents and the way they barrel loud and bright through a conversation like nothing in the world could touch them, Remus can’t help but be intimidated. For Merlin’s sake, Sirius has silver monogrammed cufflinks on the sleeves of his school uniform. Even if Remus does manage the courage to ever string more than two words together in front of his new dormmates, he can’t imagine they’d ever want to be friends with someone like him.

There’s a flash then, followed by a bang, and Remus becomes briefly distracted by a whirling firework escaping from James’s trunk. There’s laughter at that, a slight salve to his fluttering, nervous gut when the other boy winks at him from behind square-frame glasses, but then James turns back to say something to Sirius instead and stops. He gapes.

“Why are you wearing a dress?”

“It’s not a dress,” Sirius sniffs, looking affronted at the very idea. “It’s a nightshirt.”

Well, whatever it is Sirius has changed into while the rest of them weren’t paying attention, it certainly looks like a dress. It’s white, and ankle-length, and buttoned all the way up to just beneath his chin. Also, it’s frilly. Very frilly. If anything, it looks like something out of Ma’s old and battered copy of A Christmas Carol, like he should really have a long nightcap and candleholder to go with it.

Remus can’t help it. He snorts.

Sirius snaps his gaze over, steel grey eyes boring holes into him, and Remus wants to melt into the floor beneath his feet. “Well, what do you wear to sleep, then, if it’s so funny?” he snaps.

“Not my gran’s nightie,” Remus replies, feeling he ought to be congratulated, actually, on such a witty remark. Only Sirius’s eyes flash at that, and immediately his jaw clamps jaw shut.

But then James is cackling, and Sirius seems to take in his new dormmates for the first time since they all began changing for bed. James, in a vest and Quidditch shorts. Peter, in a matching set of broomstick-patterned pyjamas. Remus, in a pair of joggers and the oversized green jumper that still smells like Dad. A red flush creeps up Sirius’s pale cheeks. “Oh.”

It occurs to Remus then, that this wasn’t at all what he wanted, either. He didn’t want to make Sirius feel bad about it. He hadn’t wanted to embarrass him.

So it’s a poor offering, maybe, but he finds himself digging out another jumper—orange, this time, but a nice soft one, and not too oversized or nubby—and says, “D���you want to borrow it?”

A moment passes, then two, and then Sirius is smiling wide. “Cheers, Lupin,” he says, a shine in his eyes of something Remus doesn’t quite know how to place.

In future days he’ll come to understand that that look is the surefire sign of Sirius about to do something that’s not the done thing—not by pureblood standards, anyway, whatever the hell those are. All he knows right now is that Sirius isn’t yelling at him—or worse, ignoring him—and then James is throwing an extra pair of Quidditch shorts at Sirius’s face and saying no one wants to see his skivvies, and then Peter is breaking out a massive bag of Bertie Bott’s to share, and maybe it turns out that Remus can have friends, actually, after all.

[pages-and-1nk]

Insanity.

Black brother's angst, Cannon compliant (kind of???), Regulus POV

TW: Unhealthy home environment, references to child abuse, emotional and mental abuse, angst/no comfort.

The screaming was loud.

Regulus could hear his mother's voice, shrill and furious, bouncing against the walls of their house. She spat his brother's name as though it was the most vile of curses, the most heinous of crimes, throwing it at the world with fury to mask the pain of a mother pushing too far.

He could hear it from his room, he'd been hearing it throughout the break, from stinging hexes to slicing charms, back and forth and too and from pushing and pushing and pushing-

Regulus could hear it in Sirius' voice when he broke. He could hear it in his mother's gut wrenching screams, in the slam of the room opposite to his own, in his father's disinterested attempts at calming Walburga's rage.

Fighting over and over. Broken over and over. Cursed over and over.

There was no salvation for those who chased volatility and expected it to come kindly, only madness.

Only anger, frustration, disappointment, trying again and again to prove that something different would come of things- something different could come of things- when there was nothing left to hope for.

A knock on his door, Sirius never knocked anymore, he never bothered.

Regulus knew what was coming before he opened it, knew what he'd see when he answered, knew nothing good was coming.

Yet, just like the rest of his lineage, he opened that door and expected something different.

"I'm leaving," Sirius breathed the moment the door was open enough for Regulus to see him. It felt like it'd been years since he'd seen his brother look like this, face flushed and eyes alight with a mix of determination and anger.

He looked like a child again, staring down at Regulus, an older brother rather than an adult trapped in the body of a teenage boy.

There was so much Regulus wanted to say, so much he wanted to do, and maybe if he was braver he would follow, maybe if he was better- if he had enough foresight to know his insanity could end should he leave- then he could treat this as a hello instead of a goodbye.

But he was not Sirius, he was weak, he was a coward, and he was clawing at a mother's skirt scraping by for any shred of approval she was willing to give, putting all his love in all the wrong places, hoping that maybe- just this once- it would be enough for them to look at him like he was worthy of their love.

Over and over and over.

So, Regulus stared his brother down, refusing to look down at the suitcase he was holding, or the hand that was just barely outstretched and reaching for him, and said with the utmost disinterest he could muster, "Okay."

"Okay?" Sirius asked, and the pain in his eyes was sharp, it dug it's claws into Regulus soul and pulled, yanking him forward, begging him to stop this, to put an end to it, and he forced himself to push that ache down.

One more time. Just one more try.

"What more would you like me to say? Congratulations?" He shot back sharply, dancing over the shards of his brother's heart, knowing this was his doing.

Sirius took a step back, like he'd been struck, staring at his brother like he didn't recognize him.

Maybe he didn't, Regulus supposed they'd both changed over the years, and while Sirius was off with his band of lunatics, Regulus was stuck in a cage of his own making.

"I want you to come with me," Sirius whispered, lifting his own head and covering his expression in one that mirrored Regulus. "But I suppose you're too busy worshipping your dark lord, right? Waiting on Mommy's hand and foot until she finds a more extravagant way to show you off. Her perfect little boy." The words were meant to hurt, were meant to sting, were meant to break.

Whatever it was, whatever they were or had been- brothers, friends, children, home- they weren't anymore. Whatever was theirs was gone, rotting and splintering, and now they were both putting their hands through the carnage and ripping it to shreds.

"As if I'd go anywhere with you," Regulus spat. "You who knows no respect, no boundaries, no love-"

"What do you know about love, Regulus?" Sirius laughed, sounding bitter as he stepped forward, toes inching the threshold of his room. "Other than the lies mother feeds you on a silver spoon? Other than what she shoves down your throat? How would you know what it's like to be loved when you don't even know what you are?"

Regulus stared up at his brother, lips pressed together as he looked up at the boy standing above him.

"I know they love us, we're their children-"

"Please, Walburga wouldn't know love if it tossed a curse at her," Sirius interrupted him before he could even start, and by now he knew he should be used to being talked over- everyone always spoke over him, because Regulus Black was not important enough to be heard.

Sirius had always listened, but the look he was giving him had Regulus realizing that would forever be a 'had'.

"She doesn't love you, Regulus," Sirius told him. "She'll never love you, not like I did." Regulus opened his mouth to say something, face beginning to lose it's colour, but Sirius wasn't stopping, he wasn't waiting, he was speaking. "And when you choke, when you drown in the hollow feeling this house gives you- because that is all it will ever give you- you'll only have yourself to blame. It will be entirely your fault." He snapped, staring him down. "And somewhere, far away from here, I will be laughing while you rot in whatever misery you've condemned yourself to."

Regulus didn't speak after that, staring up at his brother, his older brother, with nothing left in him to fight.

There was no goodbye when Sirius turned around. There was no I'll miss you. There was only mourning, only loss, the sound of his mother screaming, yelling for her son to come back here, to get back inside, the smell of smoke as his mother burned the tapestry, the sound of her going through his brother's room and smashing things.

Over and over and over.

2 weeks later, Regulus would sneak into his brother's room, and charm the wreckage back to it's original state, trying to bring back a hole that had settled in his chest.

1 month later, when school started again, Regulus would pass Sirius in the hall, would look for him in the hall, and Sirius wouldn't acknowledge his existence. Not a word.

A year later, when all of Regulus' friends begin to talk about a mark, and a man, a leader, purity, Regulus begins collecting clippings to try and use them to fill the hole in his chest, to turn his hollow into hate and melt himself down into something his parents would want.

2 years later, with ink down his arm, circles under his eyes, Regulus would stare at a necklace, wondering if maybe this was the second chance, this was his way of feeling whole again.

2 years later he would drown. Just like his brother promised, except much more real. Water in his lungs as he screamed for a brother that would never come, a brother he chose to give up to chase a game of insanity.

2 years later, Sirius would receive the news, ready to join the war, but it wasn't laughter that fell from his lips as Remus held him up, but sobs, awful, broken sobs.

Crying for the brother he'd spent 2 years mourning, finally able to let his grief take over the spite, because before he'd ever hated Regulus he'd loved him.

And what a tragedy that love had become.

[77nevilleplants]

POV: You're Remus Lupin (20) and one Sirius Black (20) asked you to pose for a sketch.

Very scuffed 😂 shout to @fiendishfyre for encouraging me to post this and being such a roleplay partner!

[witchering10123]

azkaban is no snooze fest

[evyltalks]

Would you prefer slutty wolfstar or slutty wolfstar with angsty undertone ?

[losver07]

sirius: so, do you like boys?

remus: as a concept, no. but they're fun to kiss

[uhhlifeig]

First Divorce - Jan. 15th - word count: 298 - @wolfstarmicrofic

Sirius groaned as sunlight streamed through the window. 

He knew he shouldn’t have gone out. His head was killing him and his mouth was so incredibly dry, and he literally remembered none of the previous night.

He turned to face the floor, catching sight of James sprawled across the carpet.

“Mornin’, Prongs,” Sirius croaked.

“Don’t talk, mate,” James muttered. “Hurts.”

Sirius nodded, and then immediately regretted that decision when his world started spinning. When he finally stopped feeling nauseated, he took a good look around the room.

There was nothing out of the ordinary- except for the marriage certificate on the table.

What. The. Fuck.

Sirius picked up the certificate, noting both his and James’s signatures. 

“James Fleamont Potter,” he screeched, ignoring his pounding headache in favor of being dramatic. “We’re married?”

James frowned, opening his eyes. “Fuck, the light,” he hissed. “Ow, that hurts.”

“We got married?” Sirius asked again. 

“That’s what it says, no?” James answered.

“But we can’t be married!” Sirius yelped. “I want my beautiful Moony and I can’t have him if we’re married! And you have Lily!”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” James grunted, attempting to sit up. “Let’s get divorced, then.”

Just then, Remus walked into the room. “Hello, Sleeping Beauty,” he grinned. “I see you’ve found the papers.”

Sirius looked at his boyfriend incredulously. “You knew?” he asked, feigning betrayal. “Moons, Moony, my love, why didn’t you stop us?”

“It was funny,” Remus shrugged. “Here’s some water and crackers.”

“Oh, Moony, my lord and savior.” Sirius said, making grabby hands. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“Good question. Now, James,” Remus said, turning and prodding his friend gently. “Get up and share the crackers with Padfoot. Peter and Lily are coming.”

“Mfffgh.” James rolled over so that he was facedown. “Go away.”

[my-castles-crumbling]

"I'm pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free."

~ Taylor Swift (So Long, London) Pairing: slight wolfstar, but it's not the focus - Rating: T - TW: mentions of abuse, Dumbledore bashing

"He was innocent," Remus murmured, staring into the clear blue eyes that he used to associate with trust. With hope. With honesty.

"And unfortunate oversight," Albus Dumbledore murmured, his face unreadable.

"An unfor- WHAT?" Remus shouted, immediately losing his temper, and not for the first time that day. Again, he pictured Sirius, the Sirius he knew, the Sirius he loved, rotting away in a cell, innocent. "He was in Azkaban for TWELVE YEARS, Albus! Twelve years without hope, without comfort, without-"

"Without you?" Dumbledore interrupted, his calm demeanor making Remus want to kill.

"I'm done," Remus murmured, his fury so strong that he felt like ice. He walked from the room shaking.

-

"You want me to go back?" Sirius asked, his voice hollow.

"It's for the best," Dumbledore murmured, his face impassive. "He need a safe place. We need to get Voldemort under control, before it is too late. I'm sure you agree, we need to protect everyone. Protect Harry."

But that struck a nerve.

"You seem to like sending people back to the places where they've been abused under the guise of protection," Sirius snapped, thinking of Harry, who was currently locked away at the Dursleys.

A long silence followed.

"Will you let us use Grimmauld Place or not?" Dumbledore asked after a few tense moments.

"Yes," Sirius grumbled. But only because he knew he had no choice.

-

"Did you know?" Harry asked, staring desperately at the painting of Albus Dumbledore. "Did you know how bad it was at the Dursleys?"

He knew the answer. He'd heard him speak to Petunia about it.

"I did," Dumbledore said simply, his eyes dull.

"And you knew about Draco. And Sirius. And his brother," Harry stated, no longer asking. How many other abused children had Dumbledore known about and ignored? How many other people had suffered without knowing it for Dumbledore's causes?

"It was for the Greater Good," the painting stated simply, not looking contrite at all.

"But...it wasn't good for any of us, was it?" Harry asked, a dull throbbing in his chest.

"I suppose not."

[himbionn]

Pov: Boys™️

(Tap picture for better quality)

There's not enough art of just these four vibin so I've taken the liberty of doing it MYSELF.

[aphrodite-of-sparta]

Sooooo do we all know mr. Brightside is wolfstar or did I finally have an original thought??

Like obv Remus is the narrator. Not only "he's having a smoke and she's taking a drag" and that stuff but also "open up my eager eyes, I'm mr brightside" like brother please tell you see what I see

[sliebman10]

Cousin

"Moony," Sirius hissed behind his glass of scotch.

"Yes?" Remus said, raising his eyebrow.

"Since when are Harry and my cousin so friendly?" he asked, nodding toward where Harry and Draco were sitting on the sofa. Harry was clearly telling some sort of story and Draco was listening with rapt attention.

Remus shrugged. "I don't know why he'd like a haughty pureblood who rejected his father's worldview."

Sirius opened his mouth to say something else but closed it and kissed Remus's cheek instead. "Well, if you put it like that…"

Word count: 90

@wolfstarmicrofic

[chocchipdisaster]

my 2024 peter headcanons part 2!

cause you guys liked the last ones sm

has a debilitating allergy to cats (Sirius loves this)

when they're adults his house is the one they go to when the marauders want to hang out as a group. like he can perfectly curate his spaces and everyone adores his interior design sense of style

not necessarily 2024 but yknow how it's wizard tradition to get a watch once you're of age? peter has a business that makes affordable watches specifically for 17 year old boys in the wizarding world. this business means the world to him and he owes the idea of it to Remus. he saw the watch that he got and while he didn't judge and hyped it up, he could tell it wasn't very good quality because the lupins (at least in my hc) were not very well off and didn't want to splurge on a nicer one. so he made the business a couple years later. he never said a word to Remus, but Remus knows and loves him for it. this au's harry had a watch made by uncle wormy.

his worst fear was that the other marauders would perceive him as bland because he wasn't as rich as prongsfoot, or shrouded in mystery like moony, or as studious as the other three boys. for a long time he only saw himself as what his friends weren't instead of what peter was

voldemort? who's that? he doesn't exist in my peter headcanons

oops none of these are specifically modern

ok so he rotates cameraman duty with Remus when prongsfoot do dumb shit on camera thinking it will make them all rich (they're already rich the idiots). Remus does it without complaint. peter does it with immense complaint.

but peter isn't getting sucked off by one of the video's subjects after the fact as a thank you, cut him some slack

his favourite tv show is Brooklyn 99, he teases Sirius by saying Sirius is is like Santiago, and Sirius teases peter by saying peter is like Boyle. they're both right to a small degree. it's unanimously decided that james is like peralta, though.

[g3othermal3scapism]

sketching the boys. ur all very impressed with my background skills i can tell (tiktok [proud] emoji)

[cels-not-so-secret-love-affair]

tired (sirius/remus)

a/n: wartime wolfstar except they get to be cute and domestic and in love and not fighting mwah x

‘Hello? I’m home.’ The front door swings shut with a soft whoompf as Sirius hauls himself inside, stamping his boots on the mat and rubbing his hands together in a feeble attempt to rid his bones of the cold that’s seeped in. Outside the night is deep and liquid. Sighing, he chucks his keys on the console, yanks off his shoes and throws his hefty biker’s jacket up on the hook beside his boyfriend’s worn-out duffle, before calling out again.

‘Remus? You there?’ This time, a head pops out of the kitchen doorway in response.

‘Hi, love. You’re late.’

‘Yeah, well. Such are the joys of life at present,’ Sirius replies joylessly, running a hand through his hair. Remus just gives him a rueful smile.

‘Come on through, I’ve got the kettle on.’

The kitchen is warm and comforting when Sirius sinks into his usual chair at the table, and a wave of exhaustion comes crashing down on top of him. The dull ache that had already started up a low thrum in his limbs seems to take over now that he’s finally let his guard down, and for a moment all he can really focus on is the soreness in his feet. Remus leans down to kiss his head, all soft wool and smoke and cinnamon, then sets about fetching a mug. The one he settles on is a gift from Lily. It’s got a slight chip on the handle and the words Best Dog in the World neatly hand painted on the front in an imitation of Sirius’ fancy cursive. Sirius had roared with laughter when he’d unwrapped it, and it had immediately become a fan favourite in their household.

‘Do you fancy something herbal? We’ve got peppermint and liquorice in if you’d like.’

‘Sure Moons, that’d be lovely.’ Remus hums in response and takes the box of teabags down from the cupboard. Then he shuffles across to the kettle where it’s cradled childlike by its tipper (a lifesaving stroke of genius on Mary’s part) and pours the water. It’s a familiar sound, mundane, and Sirius closes his eyes to bask in the feeling of just being home. When he’s opened them again his tea is sat steaming happily before him, and he pulls it closer, grateful for its warmth in his hands. Remus pulls up a chair opposite him.

‘That better?’, he inquires softly.

‘Loads, thanks.’

‘I’m glad to have you back.’ Sirius winks at him.

‘Can’t stand to be without me, right babe?’ Remus laughs and makes a face.

‘Actually I take it back. You can give me that mug back now and return to the dark and cold.’

‘You’re a cruel man, Lupin.’

‘Not my fault you’ve poor taste in men.’ Sirius shakes his head at this, a fond expression softening the sharpness of his features.

‘I’ve got great taste in blokes. The best.’

They spend a few quiet minutes together after that. For the first time in about four weeks time seems like it’s on Sirius’ side, and things are allowed to slow to a dreamy kind of pace where whole lifetimes can be spent wrapped in the gentle embrace of a tiny old fashioned kitchen with a flickering lightbulb. It’s grounding to sit still for a second and focus on nothing else but being. Soon enough he’s finished his tea, and looks up to find Remus watching him somewhat analytically. He’s looking at Sirius in the way he sometimes does, like he’s trying to memorise every detail of his face just in case there’s a test on it later.

‘You don’t look right.’

‘Wow. Complimentary.’

‘You know I don’t mean it like that. Are you alright, cariad?’ The question is so gentle and so genuine that Sirius has to fight to keep himself from tearing up.

‘I’m just tired, Remus. I’m so fucking tired.’ Remus studies him, then stands.

‘Here. I think you need it.’

Sirius doesn’t need to be told twice. Remus’ arms are safe and reassuring and soft and Sirius clutches fistfuls of his woollen jumper tight as they hug. He buries his face in Remus’ shoulder and decides to just let the rest of reality fuck right off. Somewhere along the line Remus reaches up to stroke his hair and God, if that doesn’t heal something in him. They’re like that for a while. Just the two of them, in the very very early hours of the morning, embracing. As if maybe if they were close enough, if they held each other long enough, they’d be able to squeeze all the sadness and all the suffering out of their weary souls and send it spiralling off into the night. As if they’re comforting each other through something so much bigger than half past midnight on an awfully cold Thursday.

‘I’ll run you a bath,’ Remus murmurs eventually. ‘Wash your hair for you, yeah?’

‘Yeah,’ breathes Sirius, voice barely audible, muffled by his boyfriend’s shoulder. ‘Please.’

[lynxindisguise]

blaming this on @plecotusauritus and, per usual, @spindrifters

canon-inspired praise-kink remus, dom/sub dynamics, but mostly just crying

“No one would have made me a prefect, I spent too much time in detention with James. Moony was the good boy, he got the badge.” 

Beneath the table, Sirius gives Remus’s knee a teasing squeeze before his hand creeps higher up his thigh. 

Remus clears his throat, begging the blood vessels in his cheeks to behave themselves. Per usual, his body betrays him. 

“I think Dumbledore might have hoped that I would be able to exercise some control over my... best friends,” Remus says through clenched teeth, batting Sirius’s hand away. “I need scarcely say that I failed dismally.” 

Sirius’s grin is the glint of a dagger in his peripherals. It’s blunter than it used to be, than the slick smirk of his memories. 

“Please Moony. I can be good, I promise. I’ll make it up to you.”

They sneak off to their room at the first opportunity. Sirius sits himself on the edge of the bed, as if waiting for Remus’s command. But then his palm is pressed flat against Remus’s chest, holding him at a distance. 

“Strip for me, Moony.” 

Remus freezes. Under the blue tinge of moonlight, his hair is streaked with silver, his body a textured map of scars and jutting bones and the soft give at his middle. But in the orange haze of early evening, he’s a lopsided canvas artlessly slashed and dulled with grey. 

“Go on, Moony. For me.” Sirius’s tone is the gentle caress of a shard of glass. 

Head bowed, he shrugs off his cardigan. Trembling fingers fumble with the buttons of his shirt.

“You have such lovely hands, Moony.” 

This wrings a chuckle from him, and with it, some of the tension in his shoulders. His shirt falls open, and his heart relocates itself to his throat.

“Keep going, baby. You’re doing so well. Such a good boy.”

This is new. Very new. It was always Sirius writhing beneath him, begging for release as Remus made a tally of his disobedience on his deceptively perfect flesh. 

Now his skin is stained with ink, and Remus is standing before him in all his imperfect glory. 

“Oh Moons, you’re so handsome. Look at you.” A choked whine escapes Sirius as tears spill from Remus’s eyes. “Hey, no, come here.” 

Sirius sits up on his knees, hands ready to catch Remus’s face as he shuffles forward. He licks the tears from his cheeks and kisses his greying temples as his hands slide down to his waist. 

“I’m sorry,” Sirius whispers against the corner of his mouth, raw and stinging with salt. “You did such a good job, Moony. Let me make it up to you.” 

[chlobliviate]

Wolfstar Microfics - Penpals

Words: 792

@wolfstarmicrofic

🌙✨🌙✨🌙

21st August

Moony,

Please tell me you’re still coming this weekend. Evans actually replied to one of James’ (many) letters, and not just to tell him to fuck off, and he is being unbearable. If I have to hear one more sentence that starts “She said” I might just unforgivable myself. Please put me out of my misery, I’ve been helping Effie cook just to get away from the lovesick prick. Note that I can cook now. I’ll show you this weekend, I asked her to teach me how to make Samosas and they’re surprisingly easy. So I can make you samosas now! Hope the moon wasn’t too bad, wish we could have been there.

Padfoot

✨✨✨✨

21st August

Pads,

I’ll be there Friday night, I promise.

To be fair to James, it’s a pretty big deal for him. But rest assured I’ll tell him to shut up if you need me to. Lily didn’t tell me that she replied to him, so now I need to fire off a letter to her and ask her if she sustained a head injury. Please don’t off yourself, I don’t want to spend the week with lovesick Prongs on my own.

Samosas! For me? I’m glad James’ arseholery has resulted in something good at least. I will never tire of Effie’s Samosas, so the bar is high! I hope you’re practicing ready for the weekend, I expect to be wowed.

The moon wasn’t great. I have two ugly new scars on my jaw/cheek, just to prepare you for the weekend.

The wolf misses his friends, and I miss mine.

Moony

🌙🌙🌙🌙

21st August

Dear Lily,

I have received news that you sent a letter to James, and I was so concerned that I had to write to you immediately. Are you alright? Were you injured? How bad was the head injury? Do they think you’ll ever gain back full brain function?

But seriously, what the fuck? He won’t shut up about it and he’s driving Sirius mad. I’m spending the week with them and if he’s as insufferable as Sirius claims, I will be blaming you.

Hope you’re enjoying France.

Also, I told you so.

Remus

🌺🌺🌺🌺

22nd August

Moons,

Sorry the moon was shit. We’ll be back at school by the next one and it’ll be better. Also, I won’t tell you again, your scars aren’t ugly. They’re cool and rugged, and make you look distinguished and mysterious. I will hear no arguments on this subject, thank you. I also meant to ask how many books you’ve read this summer. I think you’ll be incredibly proud that I have read seven whole books in the last month. One of them was mostly pictures, but I think it still counts. I’m agonised that your only issue with my death is that you’ll have to cope with Prongs’ pining alone. Do I truly mean so little to you, Remus? I fear I shall never recover from this slight.

Yours,

Pads

PS: I made another batch of samosas and honestly, you’re going to swoon when you taste them. They’re so good. Effie seems to love bonding with me over a hot stove, and it’s very sweet. I love living here so much. I try not to think about what I’d be doing if I wasn’t here, but sometimes the comparison is helpful. Well, that got sappy. My next letter will only be discussing Quidditch and boobs to make up for it. Counting down the hours til Friday.

✨✨✨✨

23rd August

Pads,

Not long to go now. Can’t wait to see you later, and for samosas.

Seven books? Wow. That’s impressive! I’m a few ahead of that, but I’ve literally had nothing to do but read since July. Moony and Padfoot book club, when?

Can you believe it’s been over a month since I saw you? Maybe you’ve finally had that growth spurt you’ve been hoping for. My mum seems to think I’ve grown, but she always says that.

It wasn’t enough for me to tell you not to top yourself in general? Do you need me to tell you how much I’d miss you creeping into my bed at 3 am and hogging the blankets? Or how sad it would make me to not have to share every cup of tea I make? Weirdly, I would actually miss that, to be fair, so please be alive when I get there.

If I wanted to hear about Quidditch and boobs, I’d write to Prongs. Please spare me. I’ll probably be with you before it arrives, so there’s little point. I might send this right before I floo so you don’t get chance to reply. If so, hi, I’m already here!

Looking forward to swooning over you! your samosas!

Your

Moony

🌙🌙🌙🌙