#and also Sirius and Remus about Harry

[maddybthorne]

I love the trope where someone who cares about the Main Character or is just now getting to know them learns about all the dumb/impossible stuff they do and just kinda breaks. Like they’re not able to comprehend how this dumbass is alive. And then the MC is just trying to brush it off because they don’t understand what’s wrong

MC: “I may have done *insert impossible/extemy dangerous thing* but it’s fine everything worked out and it wasn’t that hard really”

Character B: “YOU WHAT?!? HOW?!?” *distressed and confused noises*

[ultravioletbrit]

“support” - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 443 words

“James? Could you come into the living room for a minute?” Sirius asks him.

“Sure.”

James follows Sirius into the living room and Regulus and Remus are already there. Sirius goes to sit in the chair beside Remus and James sits beside Regulus.

“What’s going on?” James asks them.

Sirius looks down, fidgeting with his hands and Regulus takes one of James’ hands. “Sirius has something to tell you.” Regulus says with a sigh.

“Are you okay?” James asks Sirius then turns to Regulus. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine.” Regulus says lightly. “I’m only here because Sirius thinks you’re going to need emotional support.”

“He will, Regulus! He’s going to be devastated!” Sirius gives James a solemn look.

“Okay, someone tell me what’s going on because you’re starting to scare me.”

Sirius takes a deep breath. “Okay, well… erm… someone that Moons works with is moving out of their flat.” Sirius starts slowly. “And… well, they asked us if we’d be interested in taking over their lease… and… erm… we said yes.” Sirius finishes with a wince.

“You guys got your own flat?” James asks and Sirius nods very slowly. “Congratulations guys! That’s amazing!—”

“James…” Sirius cuts off James’ excitement. “It means we’re moving out.”

“Yeah! I’m excited for you both!” James says then turns to Regulus. “And that means—" Regulus is already smiling back at James. “—We’re going to be here. Just the two of us. Are you ready for that?” James asks and Regulus nods as his smile gets bigger and James leans in to kiss him.

“James!” Sirius interrupts them. “I’m not going to live here anymore!” He practically shouts.

“Yeah, I sort of figured that part out.”

Sirius huffs. “Why aren’t you devastated?”

“Am I supposed to be?” James asks Regulus, very confused.

“Apparently so. Do you need emotional support?” Regulus asks with faux sincerity.

“Oh… erm… yes?”

“There, there.” Regulus deadpans as he pats James on the shoulder.

“This is ridiculous! Aren’t you going to miss me?!” Sirius is still shouting.

“Of course! But we’re still going to see each other all the time.” James tells him “And Pads. We’ve lived together for fifteen years. I think we’re ready to try something new.”

Sirius huffs again and crosses his arms, slumping back in his chair. “You should at least be a little heartbroken.” He grumbles.

“Do you need emotional support, Sirius?” Regulus asks him.

“Fuck off, Regulus.” Sirius stands up.

“I really will miss you, Pads.” James tells him.

“Whatever.” Sirius mumbles as he stomps out of the room, Remus trailing behind him rolling his eyes.

“I think we should turn their room into a study.” Regulus says casually.

[itsriotmotherfuckers]

Remus Lupin with the bent nose that’s a little too big, with the soft tired amber eyes, with the soft jawline, with the slightly crooked teeth, with the spattered freckles all over his face, with the knobby knees, with the lanky limbs, with the skinny and completely un-muscled body, with the fluffy curly and inexplicably tangled tawny hair, with the awkward and hunched posture.

Remus Lupin who is so strange and weird that no one really understands why/how he’s friends with James and Sirius, and everyone is even more confused when he and Sirius get together and this literal god of a man is with such a dweeb (then you see them together and they’re so sweet and in love that it makes sense). He has to have a hand on Sirius at all times because, if he doesn’t, he’s scared that Sirius will leave and he won’t know where he is. He always wants to be in Sirius’ lap because he’s freezing cold constantly and Sirius runs hot, so he clearly needs to be cuddled, because why else would they be the way they are. He always has to be held and reassured that he is loved because he’s an insecure little baby.

Remus Lupin’s first kiss was Sirius, he lost his virginity to Sirius, his first relationship was with Sirius, because he’s scared of everyone else finding out he’s a werewolf. The only time he was ever called a Casanova was when his friends poked fun at him for so much as talking to someone outside of their direct friend group (Sirius, James, Peter, Lily, Mary, Marlene, etc.). He was an antisocial weirdo that shied away from conversations, and panicked and ran if any confrontation occurred.

Remus Lupin was not an active problem solver, his fight or flight response was permanently set to flight. He lived on chocolate and tea and whatever snacks his friends brought him when he was studying. He wasn’t a natural straight-O student, he had to work his ass off to get Es in most classes and Es and Os in his best ones. He couldn’t work for the life of him because he had a bad back and hips and knees and once hurt himself trying to lift a stack of books the wrong way (with his back not his legs). He’s allergic to pollen and dust and peanuts and he’s lactose intolerant and his stomach is super sensitive. He doesn’t smoke because he’s got asthma and is too scared he’ll get lung cancer or something because he’s drop-dead terrified of literally everything.

Loser kinda-ugly nerd Remus John Lupin needs to make a comeback because he is so cute.

[timdrakemybeloved]

I’m gonna be real trying to find dadfoot without Remus Lupin involved is annoyingly difficult considering Harry didn’t even think of him as anything other than Lupin for like the whole series. Like that man was not a father figure to Harry. Even the one year he was with Harry for a full nine months he didn’t even tell him that he knew his parents. He didn’t write to him during the tournament. He was an absent father if he was a father at all which he was not. Dadfoot supremacy y’all.

Also I don’t know who posted it but there was like a snippet on here where Harry gets upset at Lupin saying “What do you think we would do, let them starve,” when Mrs. Weasley was worried about Ginny and Ron if her and Mr. Weasley died. And Sirius was obviously the one who went after him and talked to him about how they didn’t care when it was Harry starving. Which genuinely broke me I was crying. But the point is Sirius spoke to Lupin and told him to either be absent or present not this weird mix. And I don’t think wolfstar is possible because Sirius will always prioritize Harry and Lupin just wouldn’t.

So wolfstar would only be possible if you threw canon out the window entirely. And that’s actually what I don’t like about wolfstar is that it feels like writers take every good quality about Sirius and ascribe it to Lupin in order to make wolfstar work and that’s fine I guess but it’s basically just ocs at that point.

I’m rambling, my main point is dadfoot supremacy, like I could talk forever about what a good father he was and how present he was even when he was a literal fugitive for their entire relationship.

[resident-gay-bitch]

This is inspired by this post :))

“Padfoot?” Harry asked, scrambling up to the table beside Sirius. He slapped his grubby little hands up on the table that was taller than he, and peaked over it to get a look at what Sirius was doing, “What’s that?”

“These are taxes.” Sirius said calmly, reaching down to grab Harry by the waist and hoist him up onto his own lap, “It’s things adults have to do with money. It’s very boring.”

“Do you have to do writing?” He asked, poking the page with a… green finger.

“Yes, a little bit.” Sirius said, grabbing Harry’s hand to get a good look at it, “Why are all of your fingers different colours, Bambi?”

“I wanted to be a rainbow!” He exclaimed, poking Sirius in the face, “Just like you!”

Beside them, Remus snickered, covering his mouth with his hand.

“Just like me, huh?” Sirius asked.

“Yeah.” Harry giggled, “Like you and uncle Moony.”

Sirius laughed and nudged Remus in the ribs, “Hear that Moons? It’s not just me.”

Remus rolled his eyes and shook his head, “You’re trouble, Harry.”

Harry giggled and smiled up at Sirius, “Do you get to do colouring on taxis?”

“Taxes, Sprout, they’re called taxes.” Sirius corrected, running a hand over Harry’s unruly hair, “And no, it’s so boring. No colours allowed.”

Harry poked out his tongue and blew a raspberry, “Can I help you? Maybe I can make it fun.”

“You can absolutely help me if you like, Remus has to help me too because I’m not much good at this stuff. I reckon you’ll be pretty good at it though, don’t you think?”

“Yeah! I’m good at everything.” Harry nodded, “Mummy says I’m the best ever.”

“Well, your mummy is right. Isn’t she, Moons?”

“She’d probably hex me if I said she was ever wrong.” Remus agreed, “So yes, your mother is always right, Harry. You are the best ever.”

Proudly, Harry grinned and stuck his hands up in the air. Sirius tugged him into a big hug and kissed the top of his head before they settled comfortably in their shared chair.

Harry listened carefully as Remus explained each step to Sirius, and together they figured out how to do Sirius’ taxes.

Once that task was done, Remus left for work and Harry followed Sirius through their little house towards the laundry.

“Can I help, please, Padfoot. Mummy says I’m so helpful.”

“Absolutely you can help me, Harry.” Sirius grinned, opening up the washing machine and pulling out all the wet laundry. “I’ll carry this basket outside because it’s very heavy, but maybe you can help me hang everything out, how does that sound?”

“Okay!” Harry shouted running off in the other direction, “I’ll go get your sunglasses!”

“They’re beside my bed!” Sirius called back, chuckling to himself as he loaded up the basket.

He met Harry by the back door, and the little boy was huffing and puffing from his run throughout the house, looking for Sirius’ sunglasses and his own pair that had gotten lost in the mess of his own little room for sleepovers.

They both put their shades on, looking super cool and awesome in them together, and went outside into the summer sun to hang the laundry.

Harry was very helpful, as he said he would be, and handed Sirius each individual item from the basket so he could hang them out. Harry wanted to help hang things up too, because he said it looked fun, but he was too short to reach the clothes line. Sirius did put the boy on his shoulders at one point to hang a few of his own little socks and undies out.

Harry was very satisfied to be helping. Sirius finds it’s adorable how Harry just wants to hang around him all the time, even when he’s doing perfectly mundane things like laundry and taxes. But he supposed he used to be the same with James.

When they were younger, Sirius would follow James everywhere, and he’d watch when James wanted to do extra homework, he’d watch when James polished his broom, and he’d hang around when James wanted to read his magazines. They were best friends, of course Sirius wanted to spend every waking minute with James.

It fills him with so much pride to be that best friend to little Harry. It makes him so happy to know that Harry likes to plod around behind Sirius, doing the most boring of things, simply because he enjoys Sirius’ presence.

Sirius and James may be the best of friends, but they’re nothing compared to the friendship Harry and Sirius have created. They’re together as much as they possibly can be. When Harry was really little, he’d often get confused and call Sirius “dad”, which only made James extremely happy of course.

After the laundry was hung out, they popped back inside for a spot of tea and muffins before getting ready to head out for the day. Harry put his favorite t-rex shirt on, and the boots Sirius bought him for his last birthday. Sirius also wore his boots, and his T.Rex shirt so they’d sort of match.

They both took their leather jackets and wore their matching “cool guy” sunglasses.

Sirius isn’t allowed to take Harry on his motorcycle without adult supervision (James does not count as adult supervision), so they walked down the street, hand in hand, to the bus stop to head into town.

Harry had a wonderful time on the bus, as he always does. He likes to press his face up against the window and watch the world zoom by. It fascinates him how they can move so fast without feeling the wind in his hair or anything, unlike flying on a broom. He thinks it’s brilliant.

He also had a lovely chat with an older lady on the bus. Harry likes to talk to strangers, which became a bit of an issue a few months ago when he’d just wonder off with them. Luckily none had been of the evil sort and helped him find his family again, but it was certainly a problem. He’s better now though, only talking with strangers when someone he knows is also there.

So when an older lady sat across from them on the bus, Harry got chatting away. She told Sirius he was such a lovely boy, and that he should be a very proud dad. Harry and Sirius both had a bit of a giggle about that, and Harry corrected her by calling Sirius his “bestest friend in the entire world and also my uncle”.

When they finally reached their stop, Sirius had to pick Harry up and carry him away because all he wanted to do was chat with the lady. He was very upset to get off the bus, but Sirius bribed him with a lollipop later, so Harry calmed down.

“What’s this place?” Harry asked as they walked through the double doors of the optometrist.

“It’s where you go to get glasses.”

“Oh…” He furrowed his brow, “Did daddy have to go here?”

“Yep.” Sirius nodded, “He has to come back every so often, too.”

“Why are we here?” Harry asked, skipping along beside Sirius as they walked up to the counter, their hands intertwined.

“Because Moony thinks I need glasses, even though I think he’s wrong. But also… you might need glasses too.”

“Like daddy?”

“Yeah, like daddy.” Sirius smiled, “We have to get a little test done, but don’t worry, it’s not scary, just a bit weird. And I’m gonna be there the whole time.”

“Okay.” Harry shrugged, “Can I get glasses like daddy?”

“You can get whatever glasses you want, if the eye doctors say you need them.”

“Okay!” Harry grinned, jumping on the spot.

When the pair were finally called in for their assessment, Sirius went first to help calm some of Harry’s rising nerves. He sat in the chair and confidently named all the letters the optometrist pointed out to him. Once all his tests were done, and Harry was squirming in his lap, excited and ready to take his own tests, the optometrist delivered some shocking news.

“Yeah, you really need some glasses.”

“Shit.”

“Bad word!” Harry gasped, “You’re not allowed to say that.”

“Bullocks, then.” Sirius corrected, “Bloody Remus, why is he always right?”

Harry was very brave through the bulk of his tests, it was only when the optometrist had to get up close to his eyes did he grab onto Sirius and squeeze his wrist so hard that he has little half moons indented in his skin from Harry’s nails.

Nevertheless, Sirius was proud of him, and he told Harry so much. Together, they wondered through the store, hand in hand, and picked out their glasses.

Harry picked a pair similar to his dads, round, black wire frames that were almost bigger than he was. He loved them though, and thought he looked amazing in them, and Sirius thought he was too adorable to not let Harry get them.

Sirius picked out some semi rimless tortoiseshell glasses that suited his face well, and didn’t draw too much attention whilst still accentuating his eyes. When he asked for Harry’s opinion, Harry just said, “You look really smart!”

Sirius looked back at his own reflection and realised he did look pretty smart, and decided he should buy them because Remus would probably find him really attractive.

Once the glasses were bought and they both stepped out wearing them, they headed down to the store to buy some groceries. Tonight, Harry wanted to help cook dinner with Sirius because they were having a big family tea. Lily and James were coming over, as well as Uncle Wormy, Aunt Mary, and Lele (or, Marlene, who refused to be called an aunt because she did not feel responsible enough for that title. Harry calls her Lele, and is the only one allowed to do so, because when he was smaller he couldn’t pronounce Marlene, or Marls, or Marlie, so he automatically shortened Marlie to Lele).

Harry got to sit in the trolley as they wandered around the store, and he was very helpful when grabbing the food they needed and putting it all in the bottom of the trolley in a very organised manner. All the cold things were on one side, all the not cold things on the other, all the big things at the back, and all the little things at the front. Sirius was very impressed with his organisation.

“What do you think, Bambi?” Sirius asked, stopping by the meats, “Would you prefer roast chicken, or roast lamb for tea?”

“Uhm…” Harry thought, tapping his chin as he inspected the meat isle, “Lamb because it’s bigger and I’m so hungry.”

Sirius giggled and grabbed the lamb, handing it to Harry to organise in the trolly, “Careful, muscle man, it’s heavy.”

“Woah!” Harry wobbled as he took it in two hands, carefully crouching down to put it where he wanted it to go, “It’s okay, I’m getting really strong.”

“Yes you are.” Sirius grinned, beginning to push the trolley again, “You’re almost stronger than I am.”

Harry giggled, very giddy on the compliment. Sirius adores how easy it is to get Harry in a giddy state, he gets so adorably flustered anytime anyone gives him a compliment, Sirius can’t help but compliment him all the time.

Honestly, it’s probably a little selfish of him, but he supposed it’s a good thing anyway, that he wants to dote on Harry all the time. He never grew up understanding what it felt like to be loved, he never had the adults in his life compliment him, or encourage him, or help him when he got things wrong, so he does all these things double for Harry.

It makes him so incredibly happy to know that the little rascal is growing up with such a loving environment around him, and with so many people who care about him so viscerally. So who gives a fuck if it’s selfish, at least Harry gets to feel pure happiness every single day, and gets tucked into bed at night with forehead kisses and story times, and at least he knows what it feels like to be loved.

He can’t help himself when he leans over and scruffs up Harry’s hair, and honestly, darn Remus because now he can see the twinkle of admiration in Harry’s eyes even better. Sirius flicks him on the end of the nose, which makes Harry giggle, and they spin around the corner to continue with their shop.

“We need to remember to get some mint when we go back past the vegetables, so we can make some mint sauce. Do you think you can remember that, smarty pants?”

“I will try my best.” Harry smiles, standing up and facing the front of the trolly to point Sirius in the right directions, because he’s in charge here, that’s the rules, according to Harry. “Can we please get some pudding?”

“I think that’s a great idea.” Sirius smiled, “What are you thinking? Maybe some icecream? Or something warm?”

“Icecream with lots of toppings!” Harry shouted, turning back to look at Sirius, “Can we have strawberries and grapes?”

“Ooh, that sounds super yummy.” Sirius grinned, “And chocolate sauce and sprinkles too?”

Harry giggled, “Yes please.”

“Lead the way, captain!” Sirius bellowed out, and Harry turned to point him in the wrong direction, and they spent the next ten mineuts getting lost in the store.

By the time they got to the register, Sirius realised he’d forgotten the mint.

When Sirius raced back to the front of the store, to find Harry standing there anxiously with fully packed bags and an impatient cashier, he panted out a quick apology, scanned through the mint, and rushed Harry out of the store with their shopping.

“Sorry, Harry.” Sirius grumbled, switching the bags around in his hand to get a comfortable grip on them, “I know you hate being left up there by yourself.”

“She didn’t even want to talk to me!” Harry pouted, carrying a whole bag of shopping by himself. He looked like he was struggling with it, but when Sirius asked if he needed a hand, he promised he was strong enough to carry it himself.

“Well, she must have sucked. Some people are so boring, aren’t they?”

“Yeah.” Harry moped.

“But, if it’s any consolation, I bought you a giant sized lollipop like I promised.”

“Giant?” Harry asked, bewildered as he looked up at Sirius.

“Giant.” Sirius whispered back, like it was a wonderful secret, “It might even be bigger than you.”

Harry laughed so brightly, almost tripping over his own feet he was so distracted by it, “You’re so silly, Paddy.”

“I know, I know, I’m just the silliest.” Sirius laughed along with him, “You can eat it on the bus, if you want. But you won’t be allowed to eat it when your mum and dad come over, or they’ll get me in trouble for letting you have so much sugar.”

“Okay, I’ll keep a secret.” Harry whispered, absolutely delighted by the thought of keeping secrets from his parents.

“Good boy.” Sirius grinned down at him, “Come on, we’re almost at the bus stop.”

On the ride home, Sirius started up a game of I-Spy, which Harry roped a couple of teenagers on their way home from school into playing. They were two girls, each with hair bigger than their backpacks, who giggled whenever Harry said something adorable.

Sirius only stopped giggling with them when one of the girls made a comment about how Harry had a really cute dad too. Which of course, Harry didn’t pick up on and only corrected them the same way he had that old lady earlier today, but Sirius very pointedly didn’t continue any conversation with them out of pure discomfort.

On the short walk back from the bus stop to Sirius’ house, Harry started to struggle even more with his shopping bag. The big day had started to catch up with him, and the little boy started to get tired, tripping over his own feet and going unnaturally quiet. Not only that, but carrying an entire shopping bag whilst also trying to eat a jumbo lollipop seemed to be a very hard task.

“Oh, Harry, would you be able to grab my keys out of my pocket? I’ve got my hands full.”

“Me too!” Harry groaned. He had a tendency to get grumpy when he’s tired.

“Yes, yes, just put that bag down for a second- here, hand it to me, there you go.” Sirius nodded, taking the bag from Harry, “And hand me your lollipop- good boy.”

Harry reached into Sirius’ pocket and pulled out the house keys, finding the right one to stick in the door, “Got them.”

“Great job.” Sirius smiled, handing the lollipop back to Harry, but keeping the bag, “And there’s all your things back, good job. How about some I-Spy?”

“Okay.” Harry shrugged, too distracted to notice that Sirius had kept the shopping bag. It wasn’t very heavy, it just had a loaf of bread, the mint, some crisps, and a punnet of strawberries in it, but that was a lot for such a little boy. Sirius knew he wouldn’t give the bag up willingly, not wanting to look weak in front of his cool Uncle Padfoot, so Sirius has to get smart about these things.

Luckily, Sirius knows his nephew well enough to do these things smoothly.

They played a lazy game of I-Spy the rest of the short walk home, and Harry cheered up a little without the extra weight in his hands. He was pretty happy to be the one who unlocked the door when they got there, and ran inside to greet Libby the lizard.

Libby was a bearded dragon Sirius had purchased on a whim one afternoon about two years ago. He and Harry had been out on a walk and popped into the pet shop so Harry could look at all the puppies and kittens, and when he saw the lizard he thought it was so hilarious and cool that Sirius brought it for him.

When Lily found out, she was furious. James was laughing his arse off, just thankful it wasn’t a cow, because Harry had previously been asking for a pet cow and he knows how easily Sirius bends to Harry’s will, especially when he pulls out the puppy dog eyes.

Lily said Harry could keep the lizard if he wanted, but it had to live at Sirius’ house, so of course Sirius agreed. At age three, Harry had a pet lizard he named Libby because there wasn’t much else he knew how to say, and Sirius took care of it for him.

The pair quickly unpacked all the bags, gave Libby her dinner, and then had a little break after their big day of walking around. Sirius made them both some tea and biscuits, and Harry did some colouring whilst they chatted.

Sirius got started on the dinner preparations whilst Harry continued to do some colouring, still too tired to help out just yet.

In the lounge, they had Led Zeppelin playing on the record player, because they were one of Harry’s favorites. Immigrant Song is Harry’s favorite, he likes to sing along to the “Ah ah aahhhhh ah” part.

Mindlessly, Sirius chopped up the vegetables for roasting, singing and dancing along to the tunes vibrating through the house.

After flipping the record, very carefully, as he had been taught by his uncles, Harry pondered into the kitchen and stepped up on his little helping-out-stool, and layed all the veggies out on the tray and covered them in oil and seasonings.

“Very good job, Harry.” Sirius smiled, taking the lamb out of the packet, “Go wash your hands again and you can help me season the meat, yeah?”

“Okay.” Harry grinned and skipped off to clean up.

Whilst waiting, Sirius turned the oven on to preheat and washed his own hands at the kitchen sink. When Harry returned, they got to smothering the meat in seasonings together and plopping it on the rack over the vegetables.

“Now, whilst that’s cooking we’ll make up the mint sauce, and then that’s all done.” Sirius smiled, “Should we prepare dessert now as well?”

“I think so.” Harry nodded, “Then we can be more fancy, like a restaurant, when everyone gets here.”

“Right you are, Sprout.” Sirius winked at him, grabbing the mint out of the fridge and instructing Harry on how to help.

They pottered around each other, and Harry did a very good job of stirring the sauce as Sirius quickly diced up the strawberries for dessert. And once everything was done, they got started on setting the table.

Remus came home about midway through their process, smiling at the inviting smell of a roast dinner. The full moon was approaching, Remus was even more appreciative of a good lamb roast than ever.

“Hi, love.” Sirius smiled, wandering over to kiss his partner hello.

“Hi.” Remus melted, kissing Sirius’ cheek back, “I see I was right?”

Sirius groaned, “Shut up- don’t Harry and I just look so flash in our new glasses?”

“Oh, look at you!” Remus smiled as Harry started to show off a bit, “Two very handsome men, you are.”

Harry giggled, hugging Remus’ leg, “Thanks, Uncle Moony!”

“Now, go shower and change.” Sirius said, shoving Remus towards their room, “We’ve got dinner to cook and guests to greet. Go, go.”

“Cute apron.” Remus smiled, backing away, “Pinks certainly your colour.”

Sirius flipped him off, one hand subconsciously smoothing over the frilly apron James had jokingly gifted him one Christmas.

Harry dragged Sirius back into the kitchen just in time to pull the roast out of the oven, and it smelt delicious. So delicious in fact, that Harry actually started drooling as he stared at it.

Sirius laughed his arse off, quickly wiping the boys chin before it dribbled down his shirt.

Once they had both calmed down a little, and Harry’s embarrassment had subsided, they got to cutting up the meat and plating. Harry was very helpful in this process, using the little tongs in the shape of dog paws to dish out all the vegetables into serving bowls, as well as transferring the cut off slices onto a platter for easy serving.

Once the table was all set and ready, and Harry was satisfied with how everything looked, he rushed over to put on some good “eating dinner” music as their family started to arrive.

Together they all sat around the dinner table, Harry at the head with Sirius right beside him at his request, and shared a lovely meal together.

James was almost rendered to tears when Harry told him he picked the glasses that looked most like his dads. Sirius had to hold his hand whilst he sobbed over his carrots.

Once the meal was done, Harry begged for another sleep over at his Uncle Pads because they had the best time ever doing big people things tomorrow. Sirius, of course, agreed, and the both of them begged James and Lily for another sleepover. Besides, Sirius had more mundane things to do tomorrow, and Harry always finds a way to make those things fun.

☆ ★ ☆

Anyway, I love Sirius and Harry’s friendship and I also love the marauders just doing normal people things so I thought why not?

This was great because I haven’t been able to write in ages cause some personal shit happened and my mind has been mush ever since and I’ve had all these writing ideas but no motivation or energy to write so this was really really fun. I didn’t put too much energy or effort into it, you know, it’s a pretty basic fic but I still think it’s fun.

Thanks for taking the time to read! I’d really appreciate reblogs and comments, they always make my day <3

[del-stars]

i need a fic where harry is looking through old pictures he finds at grimmauld but then he gets to that one sophithil fanart of mwpp where remus has sirius bent over and james is against the wall with his ass poked out

[just2bubbly]

ok hear me out, 'The Black Dog' is wolfstar coded and not just because of the literal connection with Sirius Black and his animagus but in general. The Dog is very obviously Sirius and the way she goes on building the first verse of long lost friendship and relationship- "I am someone who until recent events shared your secrets with" and that's easy to tell Sirius and Remus were one half of the Marauders and they were friends, lovers and obviously shared everything with each other. The location is the Marauder's Map and it could possibly be a memory that Sirius can't get out of his head while being in Azkaban that relates closely with Remus who is having the same flashback but at a bar or in a deep emotional capacity when he sees a black dog that reminds him of Siri. "She's too young to know this song" is Tonks (no offence to her but ye) the age gap is there, she was there when Sirius was alive and it was a visual representation of Remus choosing her above him. When Remus steals glances at Sirius when he thinks no one is seeing for 'old habits die screaming' and now he doesn't know what to do with this for he feels Sirius is too lost in despair. Post Azkaban Sirius is "moving through the world heartbroken" and with desires of having a friend in Remus if not a lover. "And it kills me, I don't understand"— is very clearly the chaotic mess inside Siri's head as he takes over his life after 13 years of imprisonment. "Now I wanna sell my house, and set fire to all my clothes," is perhaps the disdain with Grimmauld Palace and his past that he tried so hard to escape haunting him like a full circle. "This tail between your legs, you're leaving" is again his untimely death, too soon and a life too short with great regrets and glorious moments.

You can't tell me this song isn't about Sirius Black

[moonshadoes]

i want you by mitski is sooo wolfstar during the first wizarding war to me

[remusawoooo]

gotten to a point where wolfstar shippers are giving out disclaimers that they don't actually think wolfstar is canon before writing smth silly or ship related.

who fucking cares??? this isn't rpf where you have to handle the ship carefully so as to not cross into their reality!! is remus' personal life going to implode if I say wolfstar canon??is sirius gonna burst into flames??? oh wait, they're dead and FICTIONAL.

[allaboutlov3]

I know the majority of the guys in the marauders era are portrayed as either thin or athletic (except Peter) but like I wanna read about Sirius struggling with weight gain after the prank cause he’s not allowed to play quidditch anymore or how James has problems building muscles and finds himself not good enough because of it.

It’s giving angst. Insecurity. Them figuring it out. And eventually them overcoming it.

[sailforvalinor]

Fears Left Buried—Comfyvember

Monthly Prompt: “Safe and Sound” by Taylor Swift

Harry Potter fix-it AU | The Potters live (but Harry still winds up with the scar | Harry has a younger brother | angst (because heaven forbid I be normal about anything) and fluff | how did this end up being so long? I don’t know

————

Harry Potter’s first two years at Hogwarts felt strange to him. The professor with the face of his parents’ would-be-murderer on the back of his head and the basilisk in the basement were major contributors, of course, but more than that, walking around the school without his brother trailing just a step behind felt a little bit like walking around without a limb.

He and Monty had grown up especially close—after the scare with Voldemort that ended with the lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead, their mum had been a little extra wary about who she let the boys play with, especially when they were very young, and thus the brothers had been each other’s most constant playmate. Ron Weasley had been Harry’s best friend since he was six, and Hermione Granger had also earned that title a few years later, but he considered “little brother” to be an equal, albeit different, sort of distinction.

Harry thought he knew everything there was to know about Monty. He knew that where he was impulsive, Monty always looked before he leapt—maybe for a little too long. He knew he was useless on a broom, but had a mean batting arm. He knew his hair only looked a little bit neater than Harry’s because he actually used his namesake’s magical hair gel. He knew that, unlike said namesake, he rather liked his name. He knew that his favorite jumper was a green one Mrs. Weasley had knitted him a few years ago, and that he would wear it every day if it weren’t considered a social faux-pas. He knew that he put on his clotted cream before his jam. He knew that calling him “Flea” didn’t particularly bother him (but calling him “slow corner” while playing Exploding Snap would end in a wrestling match).

There was one thing that Harry never quite understood about his brother, however. It was an odd sort of question, a wrong sort of question, that tickled at the back of his mind no matter how hard he tried to fight it off.

Does he even care?

He knew it wasn’t a fair question to ask. Of course he cared. But Monty had such a sanguine temper, was so calm, that Harry couldn’t help but wonder anyway. He supposed that with all of the high tempers that ran in the Potter family, someone had to wind up the even-keeled peacemaker, but Monty had taken to this role so entirely that it was almost uncanny. Absolutely nothing seemed to rattle him beyond the surface level. At nine years old, he’d sat at the end of his bed while Harry told him how he’d successfully stopped the Philosopher’s Stone from being stolen and had narrowly missed being killed by Lord Voldemort for the second time, and his only visible reaction was to chew his lip and occasionally raise an eyebrow. The same went for when he told him about the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets.

That night after he got home from his second year at Hogwarts, the question darted through his mind before he could catch it by the heels and bury it: If I’d died in the Chamber, would he be reacting any differently?

However, the day his name shot out of the Goblet of Fire, something happened that banished all such thoughts from his mind.

Getting his name launched out of a magical cup in front of three school populations when it very much should not have was one thing—being accused of supposedly putting it there by five professors and a Ministry of Magic representative was another. As he listened to them argue amongst themselves (and felt the weight of the much older, much more skilled other Champions watching him), their voices started to get fuzzy like the static on the telly at home, his palms started to get sweaty, and his stomach started to do horrible sinking flip-flops. He felt like he did when he was a small child when people would recognize him in public—only, he didn’t have his mum or dad to hide behind this time.

His childish weakness angered him. The thought that he wanted his mum angered him, however desperate it was. He swallowed, hard, and forced himself to refocus his vision and stare at the tips of Ludo Bagman’s boots.

“Harry,” Dumbledore said.

Harry looked up to meet his gaze.

“Did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?” he asked calmly.

Harry felt the weight of everyone’s eyes on him. “No.”

“Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?”

“No,” Harry repeated.

“Ah, but of course ‘e is lying!” cried Madame Maxime.

“MR. POTTER—“ Professor McGonagall shouted.

Harry flinched, glancing up at her with wide eyes—though Professor McGonagall could be harsh, rarely was she so loud about it—but was surprised to find that she was not looking at him, but towards the door. He followed her gaze, and his jaw nearly dropped—it was Monty, standing in the doorway, his whole body rigid. His eyes darted from Harry, to the professors, to the other champions, and a strange fire blazed in his eyes that he had never seen before. In an instant, Monty was striding across the room towards them.

“Who is this?” Madame Maxime demanded.

“Ah,” Dumbledore said, who was the only one in the room who didn’t look surprised. “This would be Harry’s younger brother, Fl—“

“Fleamont Potter!” McGonagall exclaimed. “You will explain to me just what you are doing here!”

By the time Monty reached them, the fire in his eyes had been stamped out, though the embers still remained, hidden by what Harry could now plainly see was a careful veneer of polite respect. Putting himself between Harry and the other professors, he said, “Harry didn’t put his name in.”

Dumbledore’s eyebrows shot up behind his spectacles. “Ah,” he said. “And how are you so certain, Mr. Potter?”

“Because he would have told me, sir,” Monty said evenly.

Karkaroff barked out a laugh. “Is this a joke, Dumbledore? We’re supposed to believe this?”

“Mr. Karkaroff, I don’t know what your policy is at Durmstrang,” Professor McGonagall snapped, “but at Hogwarts, we do not believe students are guilty until proven innocent. Perhaps we should begin to wonder at the quality of your students, if you believe they’re all liars on principle.”

Karkaroff opened his mouth to give an angry retort, but Madame Maxime cut him off, “No, I agree with Professor Karkaroff—both of these boys are lying. He must have found a way to fool the Age Line. Perhaps Professor Dumbly-dorr made a mistake.”

“It is possible, of course,” Dumbledore said mildly.

“Dumbledore, you know perfectly well you did not make a mistake—“ Professor McGonagall sputtered.

The adults launched into another argument over Harry’s guilt or innocence. He desperately wanted to defend himself, but at the same time, knew it would be pointless—even with Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore on his side, he knew that everyone else wouldn’t be convinced by anything he might say. He drove his fingernails into the palms of his hands.

“There’s always veritaserum,” Monty spoke up.

Despite how quietly he’d spoken, everyone’s voices died, and they all turned to stare down at him.

Monty shrugged. “It’s the only way to know for sure. You have some, don’t you, Professor Snape?”

Snape, who had only looked at Harry with judgmental distaste so far, stared at Monty for a long moment. Harry could almost sense Snape’s desire not to oblige Monty warring with his delight at the idea of making them both endure a potion that could make them spill their darkest secrets. Finally, he replied, “…yes, I do.”

Monty nodded. “I’m okay with taking it. Are you, Harry?”

Monty caught his eye. Just go with me on this, his expression seemed to say.

Harry shrugged, matching his brother’s nonchalance, though he couldn’t be further from feeling it—Snape’s cooperation was making him uneasy. “Yeah, okay. Why not?”

There was a long pause again. Monty turned back to the adults, eyes darting from face to face as he studied them. None of them said what they were all thinking—veritaserum was a substance highly controlled by the Ministry, only used in very specific circumstances by magical law enforcement. While Snape already had some, acquiring it was not the reason for their silence, for the use of it within Hogwarts for unsanctioned purposes—on a fourteen-year-old and a twelve-year-old, no less—was nothing short of ridiculous. Bagman shifted on his feet uncomfortably.

“I…do not believe that will be necessary, Mr. Potter,” Mr. Crouch finally said.

Monty muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “didn’t think so.” Harry’s eyes went wide, and he cast about to see if anyone had heard him. No one gave any indication—except for Professor McGonagall, whose left eyebrow arched slightly.

Audibly this time, Monty said, “Well, you’ll just have to take his word for it, then. Harry didn’t put his name in, and he doesn’t want to compete.”

Harry opened his mouth, then shut it. Though it had been an entertaining daydream, he of course didn’t want to compete—but admitting it in front of three older students, champions, no less, made him feel like a coward. As grateful as he was to Monty in that moment, he also harbored an urge to step on his foot.

“I’m afraid whether or not Mr. Potter wants to compete is irrelevant,” Mr. Crouch said. “He must compete. We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament.”

“Can’t you start over?” Monty asked. “Have everyone put their names in again?”

“It doesn’t work like that,” said Bagman. “The Goblet of Fire has just gone out, and it won’t reignite until the start of the next tournament. It’s a binding magical contract, you know.”

Harry could see Monty’s polite mask slipping. “How clever,” Monty said sarcastically.

“Isn’t it?” Bagman exclaimed excitedly, clearly oblivious to Monty’s tone.

“Oh yes, very,” Monty agreed, deadpan. “I’m sure our parents will be absolutely thrilled to hear about it. And, of course, how their underage son is being forced to compete in a competition that is known to kill full-grown adult wizards.”

Bagman’s face fell.

“The boy’s got a point,” came a voice from across the room. Moody had just entered, limping closer to the fire. “Awfully convenient, don’t you think? That anyone whose name comes out of that cup is forced to compete?”

“Convenient? I’m afraid I don’t follow you, Moody,” Karkaroff said.

“I do,” Monty said quietly. “Somebody put Harry’s name in hoping he’d die in the competition.”

There was a very tense silence. Moody nodded gravely. “Correct, Potter. James is sure going to find this interesting…maybe I should head to the Ministry tomorrow to tell him about it myself.”

Harry wasn’t sure whether or not it was a trick of the firelight, but Karkaroff seemed to pale fractionally. “James…Potter?” he repeated. “The Auror?”

“How many James Potters that work for the Ministry do you know?” asked Moody.

“No, I refuse to believe this!” Madame Maxime protested angrily. “How do we know that someone didn’t put this boy’s name in to give Hogwarts two bites at the apple?”

Monty took a step forward. “I don’t know if you know this, Madame,” he said in a low voice, “but my family and I have a history of people trying to kill us. Harry has nearly died twice just while going to this school. So, no, I don’t think it’s going to be difficult for my parents—or anyone who hears about this with half a brain—to believe that the person who put Harry’s name in that cup didn’t have Hogwarts’ best interests in mind. I’m sure that Harry Potter dying in a government-sanctioned competition is going to look great for the Ministry and any other Wizarding governments involved.”

“Mr. Potter!” Professor McGonagall exclaimed, hand flying to her mouth.

Harry couldn’t help it—he was gaping at his brother like a fish.

“Dumbledore,” Karkaroff sputtered, “are we supposed to stand for this insolence?”

“You appear to be doing so just fine,” Moody snapped.

Monty took a breath, appearing to collect himself. “I’m sorry if I offended any of you,” he said, now appearing again the model of respect. “I’m just worried, is all. Now, can we go up to our Common Room? We still need to write to our parents and let them know what’s happening.”

Dumbledore nodded. “Yes, Mr. Potter, I believe that would be wise. It will give us some time to mull over everyone’s concerns,” he said diplomatically. “Mr. Crouch, could the rest of the proceedings wait until tomorrow?”

“Well—yes, I suppose,” Mr. Crouch complied, though he did not look happy about it.

“Well, then, I will bid you each goodnight, boys,” Dumbledore said. He met each of their eyes in turn, giving them both a tiny encouraging nod.

“Goodnight, Headmaster,” Monty said. He then turned and strode out of the room, and Harry found himself following him as quick as his legs would carry him.

Harry’s relief at being out of that stifling, choking room was so intense that he couldn’t even feel bad about what seemed like running away. He could still feel the heat of everyone’s gazes on his back as he left, could still see the wide eyes and gaping mouths of everyone in the Great Hall as he’d been forced to walk its length after that horrible moment when his name was called at what felt like the pace of a flobberworm. Harry thought that night that it would be very nice not to ever be perceived again.

“You okay?” Monty asked.

“Yeah,” Harry replied.

He followed Monty at an almost breakneck pace up to their Common Room, and he was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice they’d arrived until Monty threw out an arm to stop him from walking into the Fat Lady’s portrait.

“Hey, watch it, Mr. Champion,” the Fat Lady said, she and her visiting friend Violet fixing him with indignant stares.

Monty directed him to stand to the side. “Wait here,” he said.

“What?” said Harry, confused.

Monty said, “Balderdash!” the portrait opened, and Harry instantly understood why Monty had told him to wait—the explosion of voices and excitement from inside the Common Room made him shrink back out of sight.

“—hey, Monty!” Harry heard Lee Jordan say as Monty stepped inside. “Is Harry with y—”

“—shove off,” Monty snapped uncharacteristically.

The portrait swung shut before Harry could catch any more. He didn’t have to wonder long what his brother was up to, however—less than a minute later, he emerged again, his bookbag slung over a shoulder.

Wordlessly, Monty pulled something small and folded out of his pocket, and it wasn’t until he shook it out that Harry realized it was the Invisibility Cloak.

As Monty quickly draped it over both of them, Harry asked, “Hey, how do you know where I keep the cloak?”

“You really thought I didn’t know? Bottom of your trunk, top right corner. It’s in the exact same place you hide it in your sock drawer at home. Now come on.”

Harry could have asked how he knew that, but he refrained. “Where are we going?”

Monty didn’t answer, but instead took the lead and crept down the hallway again, Harry following. At first, it seemed like he was heading towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, but he instead stopped in front of the One-Eyed Witch statue.

“Uh—“ whispered Harry.

“Dissendum!” Monty hissed. As the hump on the statue slid open, Monty grabbed Harry’s wrist and dragged him inside.

“You want to go to Hogsmeade? Now?” Harry asked as they stepped into the pitch-black passage. Pulling off the cloak, he muttered, “Lumos,” causing his wand to illuminate the stone walls surrounding them.

“No,” Monty said. He pointed to the ground. “Sit.”

Mystified, Harry sat down with his back to the wall. Monty sat down in front of him, rummaging through his bag, and then pulled out a bottle of Butterbeer and a big hunk of chocolate wrapped in gold foil. He handed both to Harry.

“Thanks,” said Harry. Giving him the chocolate was especially kind—Uncle Moony had sent them both chocolate through the post last week, a chocolate that he usually saved for gifting on special occasions, and Harry had eaten most of his by the time post came the next day. From the looks of things, it looked like Monty had barely touched his.

Harry held up the bottle. “Where did you get this?”

“Ginny,” Monty explained. “She snuck them from the Kitchens for me.”

“Should’ve known.” Monty and Ginny had been partners in crime since they were toddlers—or maybe “partners-in-Ginny-doing-crime-while-Monty-tried-to-stop-her” was the better term. Though, their making of a new friend by the name of Luna Lovegood—and a very odd but very nice girl that Harry had met over Christmas at the Weasley’s—seemed to be giving their act a little bit of balance lately.

Harry opened the bottle and took a sip, and, despite the fact that the Butterbeer wasn’t hot or nearly as sweet as the Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks, despite the fact that he was sitting on the hard stone of a dark tunnel, despite the fact that he knew that someone was probably trying to kill him again, his breathing finally evened out, and an intense sense of relief washed over him. Hiding in the One-Eyed Witch passage, Harry thought, had actually been ingenious—it was one of the few places in the castle where no one could find him. Harry broke off a piece of chocolate and popped it in his mouth. It tasted like home, like Christmas morning in his pajamas, like his mum helping him with forgotten homework the night before the start of term, like him and his dad swiping candy from his mum’s secret stash hoping she wouldn’t notice.

Harry went to break off another piece and offer it to Monty, but he paused midway. His brother had brought a Butterbeer for himself, but hadn’t touched it. Instead, he sat like a cross-legged statue on the ground, so still, Harry wasn’t sure he was even blinking, staring at Harry’s still-glowing wand laying on the ground between them.

Before Harry could say anything, Monty almost seemed to mentally shake himself. He rummaged through his bag again, and pulled out some parchment, a quill, and an inkwell.

“What are you doing?”

Monty spread out the parchment on the ground. He dipped the quill in the ink and began to write, saying, “Writing Mum and Dad?” He shot Harry a quizzical glance. “They need to know what’s happening.”

A jolt of panic lanced through Harry, and before he’d realized what he was doing, he’d shot forward and slammed his hand over the parchment. “Wait,” he said desperately. “Don’t tell them yet.”

Monty jumped back. “What? Why?” he demanded. “They’re going to find out soon anyway.”

Harry’s stomach churned. “You know what’ll happen—Mum’s going to panic, and Dad’ll pretend not to do it, and then stay up all night doing it anyway.” Harry could still picture his parents’ faces in the aftermath of the events of his first and second years—drawn, tight, anxious, trying desperately to hide it.

“Panic?” Monty repeated indignantly. “Harry, of course they’re going to panic—someone put your name in the Goblet of Fire and is forcing you into a competition where you might die!” Monty stood up, staring down at Harry in disbelief. “First there’s that dream you had and your scar hurting, and now this—“

“—did you tell them about the dream?!” Harry demanded, voice rising. As much as he didn’t want anyone to know about that horrifying nightmare, it had been hard to hide it from the person who shared a room with who he woke up with his thrashing and sleep-talking in the middle of the night—so he was forced to swear him to secrecy.

“No, of course I didn’t—but I’ll admit, right now, I’m really tempted!” Monty shouted, voice cracking. “What is wrong with you, Harry? You’re so worried that Mum and Dad are going to pull you out of school to keep you safe, but I keep having nightmares about having to bury your dead body!”

Monty’s voice echoed for a long moment in the tunnel, the sound blithely bouncing along, unaware of the emotion it carried. Instant regret shot through Harry. Monty turned away, his face in profile, scrubbing furiously with the heel of his hand at his forehead. He sniffled. Was he crying? His face was too far in shadow for Harry to tell.

“Flea,” Harry said.

Monty looked up.

Harry patted the ground next to him. “Come on.

Monty hesitated for a second, then sat next to him against the wall.

Harry slung an arm around his brother’s shoulders, then reached for the chocolate and broke off a piece and handed it to him. “Sorry,” he said. “I’ll—I’ll write to Mum and Dad in the morning.”

“…okay,” Monty said around a mouthful of chocolate. He sniffled again. “Sorry I yelled.”

“S’okay.” To be honest, seeing Monty yell at him like that had been a little bit cathartic—it had been so long since Harry had been able to make him that angry, he hadn’t been sure if he still had it in him.

“It’s just…” Monty leaned forward a little, resting his forearms on his knees. “I’ve just got this…bad feeling. Like something horrible is coming.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well…I dunno. It’s just—I kind of was expecting something to happen last year, you know? For another professor to be hiding You-Know-Who’s face on them somewhere, or for someone in our house to turn out to be a Death Eater and try to kill you in your sleep or something. But nothing happened. And I tried to make myself believe that maybe You-Know-Who had given up on killing you, but I couldn’t. And then you heard Professor Trelawney give that prophecy. And then I heard Dad and Uncle Padfoot talking about disappearances at the Ministry. And then you had that dream. And now—this. What if—what if all this time, You-Know-Who hasn’t given up, or been trying to figure out what to do, but has just been waiting? What if you dying in this competition is his big plan?”

The entire time he’d been talking, Harry had been watching his brother closely—watched him make the exact same face he made when Harry told him about fighting Professor Quirrell or facing the basilisk—and now clearly could see the layers of worry and concern that he previously couldn’t spot. Despite the severity of the situation, Harry almost wanted to laugh—the fact that he’d been misreading his brother’s facial expressions for this long was so shameful, it was almost funny.

“Then,” Harry said simply, as much to himself as to Monty, “my job this year is to stay alive.”

He’d said it lightly, but clearly that wasn’t enough for Monty. His brother looked up at him, that fire again flickering in his eyes. “Promise me right now that you won’t die.”

It seemed like a rash promise to make, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. “I promise I won’t die,” Harry said.

“Good. Because if you do, I’ll bring you back from the dead and kill you again.”

“Not if Hermione finds me first.”

Both boys chuckled.

Harry reached across and grabbed Monty’s Butterbeer. “Drink this,” he said, handing it to him.

As Monty obediently took a swig. As he did, Harry asked, “How did you do that, anyway?”

“Do what?”

“Chew up those professors and spit them out like that.”

“I don’t really know,” Monty admitted. “Your name got called, and I kinda just panicked.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You were scared?”

“Dead scared.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have known,” Harry said, impressed. “And…thanks, by the way.”

“You’re welcome,” Monty said, giving him a quick smile—but it dropped from his face just as quickly. His eyes suddenly went wide. “Oh no.”

“What?” Harry asked.

“Harry, I disrespected two visiting headmasters of foreign Wizarding schools and a Ministry of Magic representative. There’s no way I’m not getting detention.”

“I mean, possibly,” Harry said, not quite seeing what the big deal was. “It’s not the end of the world—Dad got more detentions in a month than his house would get in a year.”

“You don’t understand,” Monty said, looking pained. “If I get my first detention before Ginny does, she’s never going to let me live it down.”

Harry couldn’t help it, he laughed—but he cut himself off quickly at the expression on Monty’s face. “Well,” Harry said, “we’d better get back to the Common Room before someone realizes we’re out of bed and makes one detention two.”

“Yeah.”

As they emerged back out into the corridor, covered by the Cloak again, Harry teased, “The One-Eyed Witch passage? Really?”

“I said I panicked.”

Chuckling under his breath, Harry led the way back up to their Common Room, laying aside thoughts of Dark Lords and death for the moment—the effort made all the easier with his brother at his side.

[not-jeguluses]

resuscitation ✦ a sirius black microfic

— 706 words ; sfw ; wolfstar and platonic prongsfoot and black brother fluff ; fix it / crack lmao

“Hello?”

The first voice Sirius has heard in years and for some reason, the last one he expects to hear is Remus’. Or at least, he would be the least likely person if not for James’ cadence echoing through the narrow shoot to his cell directly after.

“Pads?”

Sirius calls out, his own voice grated from disuse, saturated in disbelief, “Guys?”

Then, the narrow gouge in Sirius’ cell where he’d been taking his meals is opening, widened by Remus’ handiwork, who is suddenly visible with his wand pointing at the stone. And next to him—

“James?!” He throws himself into his friend, unsure if he’s dreaming but not willing to waste a second of the reunion by taking any time to consider the reality of it. He wants to enjoy it.

James holds him closely, apparently uncaring of his emaciated form or rotting smell. “Sirius, you’re alright.”

“I’m alright? You died!” He shakes him without loosening his grip. “Moons, you better get in here. I’m not letting go of him but you know how terribly I’ve missed you.”

“Oh, alright.” Remus laughs and complies. “Let me get us out of here while I’m at it.”

Sirius hadn’t known that was an option. For a moment, he’s terrified. Worried that that change of scenery will wake him up. Then, there’s the tightening of apparation and he’s no longer in the oppressive atmosphere of Azkaban and instead in a cinnamon scented living room.

He’s free from the arms of his loved ones for an entire second in total before there's a mouthful of red hair and soft, freckled arms. “Happy birthday, Sirius.”  A toddler is tucked between them and he has tears filling his vision.

“This is real?”

Lily laughs in his arms but it’s not her that answers. “I hope so. I worked really hard to get here.” It comes from behind him and he pulls away from the woman only enough to see the source.

It’s Regulus, his hair the shortest Sirius has ever seen it, a contrast to the unprecedented length of his own. He’s dressed in a muggle button down and jacket but it’s visible only through his robes. He looks clean and light. Unburdened. If it wasn’t his brother, he might not have recognized him.

It’s with his eyes locked onto Regulus’ nearly identical irises, that Sirius loses consciousness.

✧˖°.♡︎⋆｡°✩

Later, when he’s feeling less lightheaded, Remus fills him in a bit and then Regulus, Lily, James, and Dumbledore stop by to explain the rest, the latter having joined them for tea and discussions after apologizing for his tardiness.

He learns of his brother’s bravery, inspired by the loss of Lily and James and his pride in his brother’s resilient pursuit of Peter. He finally confided in his knowledge of the locket, not knowing how important it was to the cause. Doubling as a spy for the Order, he had been in close contact with Snape and Dumbledore, without the knowledge of most members, who had returned his divulged information with the revelation of his theory on Voldemort’s creation of Horcruxes.

With everyone working together, it didn’t take long to gather the artifacts and destroy them. Helped further along by the sacrifice that Lily and James had made, which was returned with their lives when Voldemort’s curse magic had dissipated and undone each death carried out in the process of making Horcruxes.

“So, they just released me?”

At this, Regulus’ face falls and Remus hurries to explain. “Your release was a priority, it has been since we discovered that Peter was my counterweight. Secretly on Voldemort’s service. But the ministry is slow and—”

“Without us to prove it wasn’t you who betrayed us, it was hard securing your freedom. We’ve only been back three months and you’re already out.”

He is distracted by hands in his hair which isn’t surprising, Remus has been soothing the strands with his fingers while Sirius’ head lay in his lap for the past hour or so, but these hands are tiny and insistent.

Sirius shifts to look at Harry, who has crawled over to them from his blanket on the floor. “It’s over, then? Everyone is safe?” He asks Harry but addresses the room.

“Everyone is safe.”

[mourningliliesmorningglories]

"I don't really give a damn about the way you touch me when we're alone"

"You're ashamed of me." Remus' voice is barely there but it's cold and unfamiliar. Sirius stops in the corridor and all of a sudden it's darker, the scars on Remus' skin glimmer in the low light. No one wrote a book on this, because if they did, Sirius would know. All that occupies his mind is this condition. It feels like a restraint around him, like a tough pill to swallow. Sirius still sees Remus, he still sees the quiet moments they've shared, he still feels his hands on his skin. What he can't help, however, is seeing his shadow in the shape of a wolf.

"You can hold my hand if no one's home."

Sirius reaches for his hand yet Remus makes no move towards him. "I could say the same to you. But I don't. I won't." He's still, illuminated in the lamp light, breathing heavily. “Only one of us is a monster, Remus. And it’s not you.” Rationally, Sirius knows the moon is only days away, that this is so much harder for Remus than it would ever be for him. This time it hangs over both of them. Remus’ footsteps echo away from Sirius. Sirius can’t help but feel like it’s unfair.

"Do you like it when I'm away?"

Sirius feels on edge the whole of the full moon. He sits by the window the whole night, praying for a glimpse or a howl. Something, anything to indicate that Remus, his Remus, was okay. He knows it’s one night. One night, twelve times a year. The condensation from his breath pearls on the glass, illuminated by the moonlight. Sirius feels like the moon is mocking him - I’ll always have him in a way you never will. And Sirius should feel guilty. He really should. But Remus is his, wolf be damned.

"If I went and hurt my body, baby, would you love me the same?"

Sirius wakes up at sunrise. He doesn’t know when he drifted off to sleep but he knows Remus will be back. So he runs. Remus is asleep, caressed by soft sheets he knows Madam Pomfrey has transfigured. He’s lightly bruised and a stitched up laceration graces his left forearm. Sirius can’t help but think he’s beautiful. Sirius always thinks Remus is beautiful. Radiant. Like the moon. He crawls into the bed, jostling Remus awake. He blinks slowly up at the other boy. Sirius holds his breath. Remus concedes. He always does with Sirius. He pulls him in by the waist, and they sleep. Silly boy. He thinks this is what he wants, but he does not understand how it will hurt.

[itsriotmotherfuckers]

Now, I know that Remus’ patronus is a wolf (in cannon, I mean— I usually headcannon it as a massive dog) because he’s a werewolf, but I don’t think that that would be his animagus form. I also don’t think that Lily’s patronus being a doe makes her animagus form a doe, because that’s boring as all hell.

Personally, I think that Remus’ animagus form would be either a mouse or a sheep. A mouse because they’re incredibly clever, but also very kind, and I find it funny to think that the werewolf’s animagus form is one of the smallest mammals out there, also he kind of just reminds me of a mouse (plus, it would be sweet to see Peter not being the tiniest Marauder— I think that him not being the smallest would’ve prevented him from building resentment and then betraying them). A sheep just for the irony of a wolf in sheep’s clothing puns.

I think that Lily’s animagus form would be a mountain lion. They’re notoriously good mothers, they’re strong, they’re fast, but they’re pretty nice (by big cat standards). Also, I just think the gives off big cat vibes. She’s either a mountain lion or a lioness.

[that-bitch-kat3]

“on some level i think i always understood, that a ship could never really love an anchor.” except it’s remus to sirius and sirius to remus

[del-stars]

there's a fame au in my head where sirius is just a worldwide phenomenon popstar and remus is just some folk/country artist that randomly attracted the attention of hordes of lesbians