#james sirius first meeting
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dellaray · 3 months ago
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Chapter 2: First Year: The Hogwarts Express
“None of you are related to me, are you?” He drawled. He had the same high, upper class accent that Peter and James had. Remus disliked them all at once, knowing that they’d think he was common – and a half blood, whatever that was.
“Don’t think so.” James replied, grinning, “James Potter.” He held out a hand again. The other boy shook it, easily,
“Oh good, a Potter. Dad told me not to talk to you.”
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antsrust · 5 months ago
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Hockey Player!James x Figure Skater!Regulus
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These took me so long but I absolutely love how they turned out. I have a whole fic about them planned out in my head but I cannot be bothered to actually write it lol
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missmoonfrost · 5 months ago
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Driving lessons - a wolfstar microfic
@wolfstarmicrofic August 28 - coach Words: 406
“Hello! How can I help you?” Remus looks up from the counter and greets the man walking into the driving school.
He tosses his head, making long black hair dance out of his face in an elegant movement and reveal the most stunning features Remus ever had the fortune to lay eyes on. Remus is glad he already said hello because right now he has forgotten how to speak.
“Motorcycle riding lesson, first time. Booked in the name Sirius Black.”
Remus nods. Then he remembers he is supposed to do something with that information, not just enjoy the voice.
“Right… Eh… Do you have a permit?”
“Well… it’s not for me. I booked for my friend. James Potter. He will be here in a sec.”
“Okay. Does he have a permit?”
“I think so. He’s supposed to have sent it in?”
“Let me go check.”
Remus dives behind the curtain to the crammed office and starts shuffling through the permits on P. Halfway through he realises his mind is too occupied with Sirius Black waiting at the counter to register what he’s looking at and has to start over.
He can hear the door open again.
“You’re off the bet.” Sirius Black says in a low voice.
“Come again?” says someone who is probably the Potter whose papers he just found. But Remus stands still, just to hear where this goes. “The bet, that being married had suddenly made me so dull that I wouldn’t do anything like getting a motorcycle license? It’s off? Why? You already paid.”
“I figured I’ll use the lessons for myself.”
“You already have a motorcycle licence?!”
“Shh!”
“Oh, I see.” Potter chuckles.
”Shut up.” Sirius responds, still in a hushed voice. “He’s hot, okay?”
Remus can’t help the smile that fills his face when he steps back out with the papers in hand. Sirius inhales sharply, probably just then realising what bad soundproofing a thin curtain is, and looks mortified.
Remus smiles even wider. “I’m not the instructor.” As on cue, Emma steps out from the staffroom. “Ah, here she is.”
Remus locks eyes with Sirius and leans forward over the counter in what he hopes is an inviting pose, “But if you want me to coach you in anything else, give me a call.” Sirius grins widely as he takes the driving school's business card with Remus’ number scribbled on the back and follows his friend out the door.
Does getting a driver's license work this way in other countries? Do you need a permit first before you begin lessons?
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lulublack90 · 27 days ago
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Prompt 14 - Flake
@wolfstarmicrofic December 14, word count 915
Growing up in the little muggle village his dad had moved them to after he’d been bitten, he had sheltered Remus. He hadn’t played with any other children his own age since then, wizard or muggle. He’d spent a lot of time inside their little cottage reading. He loved books and would devour anything he could get his hands on. It was the one glimpse into the wizarding world that his father allowed. 
He poured over the magic-stuffed volumes, learning far more information than he’d probably ever need to know. He’d read all the text he’d need for the first three years at Hogwarts, if he was ever allowed to go, and was well on his way through the ones for fourth year. 
The only thing Remus wished for was someone to talk to about what he’d read. Lyall rarely spent time with Remus, and though his mother, Hope, was a willing listener, she didn’t understand anything he was talking about. He longed for a friend his own age. 
He was sitting at the kitchen table one morning, eating his over-sugared porridge, when there was a tap at the window. Hope stood up and let the barn owl in. The smart-looking bird swooped into the room. Everyone expected it to land beside Lyall, but it dropped the letter it was carrying into Remus’s lap before swooping back out of the open window. The Lupin family stared at each other before Remus picked up the letter with shaking hands. 
The front had his name and address on it written in emerald ink. No one ever wrote to him. He flipped it over and gasped when he saw the seal. He knew what that crest was. He looked up at his father. Lyall looked grey. Remus swallowed carefully, broke the seal and slid the parchment out of the envelope. 
He read the letter. Then he read it again and again, until Lyall took it out of his hands. He waited for Lyall to say something. 
“Dumbledore is coming to go over a plan to deal with your issues while you’re at school,” Lyall finally said. Hope clapped her hands to her face as she gasped. Remus was going to Hogwarts. 
The meeting with Dumbledore hadn’t been that bad. The old man had seemed nice enough and by the time he left, Remus was a lot more excited to starting school. 
Lyall refused to take him to Diagon Alley. Instead, he owl ordered everything he needed until he remembered that Remus would need a wand. 
Lyall apparated them onto the wizarding street just as the shops were opening and hurried him into Olivanders. 
Remus was floored by the stacks and stacks of boxed wands. A little old man greeted them and got to work. 
Remus tried a few wands with no luck, and then he was handed a long thin one made of cypress, 10 1/4 inches with a unicorn hair core, and he felt like he was finally home. 
Finally, the day came. He was standing before the bright red steam engine with his brand-new trunk, his brand-new wand, and a large care package his mum put together. He said goodbye to his parents and hurried onto the train, finding an empty compartment and settling in for the long ride to Scotland. 
The door to his compartment opened. A black-haired, haughty-looking boy in very fine-looking robes stood there looking at him curiously. Probably scrutinising his visible scars.  
“Can I sit in here? I’m trying to hide from my relations,” The boy asked in the poshest voice Remus had ever heard. He blinked dumbly at him and watched as the boy's face furrowed when he didn’t answer. 
“Sorry, yes, of course,” Remus stammered as the boy sat opposite him. 
“Thanks,” The boy said as he straightened his robes. “My name is Sirius Black,” He introduced himself, sticking out his hand for Remus to shake.  
“Oh, er, Remus Lupin,” Remus said quickly, shaking Sirius’s hand. The train lurched, and Remus nearly ended up in Sirius’s lap.
“Don’t suppose you have anything to eat, do you? I played a prank on our house elf, and he refused to make me breakfast. I’m starving. Remus immediately brightened up. 
“Yeah, I do actually,” And he jumped up to grab the food his mum had packed for him. He laid it out on the little table beside the window, and they shared it out. 
“What’s this?” Sirius asked as he picked up a Cadbury Flake. 
“Muggle chocolate. It’s nice, I promise.” Sirius picked up the chocolate bar and carefully unwrapped it, revealing the flaky chocolate within. Sirius took a bite and smiled. 
“That is so good,” He told Remus, before greedily stuffing more into his mouth. “Are you muggle born then?”
“No,” Remus replied. “My mum’s a muggle, but dad’s a wizard. He works at the Ministry.” Sirius nodded. 
“Mine works there too,” Remus didn’t get to ask as the compartment door banged open and a tall raven-haired boy and a short blonde boy fell into the space. 
“Hi, James Potter, lovely to meet you,” The boy with glasses said cheerily from the floor. “This is Petter. Say hello Peter,” Peter might have said hello, but it was hard to hear as James’s body muffled his mouth.
“Hi,” Remus and Sirius said in unison, and the four of them burst into laughter. Remus was certain now that he would love every minute of his time at Hogwarts. Well, maybe not every minute.   
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khoa-nguyen · 5 months ago
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First meeting of James and Scorpius. ❤️💚
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And Albus's reaction:
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waltzreprise · 3 months ago
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Wolfstar Comfortfest Day 3: Meet Ugly 😉
Hope you enjoy it!!
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narcissa-black-supermacy · 2 years ago
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people on here will be like "omg dark!james 😍😍" and then the stuff he does is not even half as unhinged as what regular canon james potter did in the 2.3 paragraphs he's mentioned in
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padfootastic · 2 years ago
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(modern) prongsfoot!!!
hello! so, this is a multi chapter fic i was really excited about a while ago (started it, got to a few thousand works and then it fizzled out lol the basic premise is this:
muggle AU with single dad James and model Sirius who’s fed up of his ~meaningless life (feeling some…ennui, if u will) and ends up taking off to like. a seaside city where he runs into harry and then, james. it was such a fun premise because A. i was writing it to ‘have we met before’ which is the perfect j/s song, B. i wanted it to be low pressure and chill, a simple meet cute romance type situation.
there’s also aunt cassiopeia who sirius is temporarily living with and she’s like this. ‘spinster’ who’s cut off from her family, has a pet cheetah she rescued one time, and has three blades on her at all times. a Character. i love her. she loves james. tries to match make. sirius is so baffled?? because aunty cassie doesn’t like anyone??
this is what my notes look like for this fic
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i have. clearly. put an unnecessary amount of thought into it lol
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periwinkle-the-11th · 2 years ago
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literally scrap every angsty head cannon I've made about regulus hating James the second he met him
Imagine:
Regulus meeting sirius' best friend that he spent all summer talking about and idolizing him. bc if Sirius likes him so much he must be awesome! and pretty much spending all year being as shy and sweet and strange as Ginny was when she first met Harry.
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lena15-08 · 21 days ago
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14 year old James who moved on from his crush on Lily to be absolutely besotted by Regulus Black.
15 year old James who managed to finally get Regulus to like him back, maybe even love.
16 year old James who pocketed the marauders map and put on his invisibility cloak to go meet Regulus in the depths of the night.
16 year old James who never told Sirius or his friends about him because Regulus was not yet ready to face his brother.
16 year old Regulus who falls deeper into the trenches with the absolute void that was James. He couldnt help it, James' whole presence required you to be absorbed within him.
17 year old James, spending his days worrying about how to talk to Sirius about him falling in love with his brother.
17 year old Regulus who is forced to join the death eaters by his family.
17 year old Regulus who loves James so much, that he doesnt have the heart to watch James hate him for what he has become.
"Obliviate"
18 year old James who feels a bit concussed as he went back to his dorm from the astronomy tower at midnight. He doesnt even remember why he was there in the first place.
18 year old James who gets enamoured by Lily Evans yet again and this time, its reciprocated.
17 year old Regulus watches as James and Lily spend their days filled with happiness.
Regulus drowns at age 17 with his final thoughts being that of James. Now nobody knew of what once was and could've been.
18 year old James, who has never really even talked to Regulus, feels his heart hollow at the news of him dying. He wonders why. Maybe its sympathetic pain, it was Sirius's little brother after all.
And that was all he was.
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my-castles-crumbling · 7 days ago
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curly - jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 369
“Do you ever just see someone and know they’re the one?” James asked dreamily, walking into the sitting room and plopping onto the couch with a giant smile on his face. 
“Yes,” Remus answered flatly, sipping at his tea. “Frequently. When I go past the candy shop and see those giant chocolate rabbits? It’s love at first sight, truly.”
“Oi!” Sirius yelled, swatting his boyfriend on the arm and grinning.
“Ha ha,” James rolled his eyes and reached for his own drink. “But really. Last night, after you two grandpas left the bar, there was this man who was just…lovely.”
“As lovely as the boy from last week?” Sirius asked with a smirk.
“Or the week before?” Remus jumped in, grinning as well.
“No,” James answered earnestly. “He was…perfect. Curly hair and this little frown. His eyes were fucking piercing and he was so smart. And God, guys. His hands.” He looked off into the distance, picturing the man, while Remus and Sirius both stifled laughter. 
“So you hooked up with a bloke in the bathroom, then?” Sirius asked bluntly, reading between the lines. “Did you get his number?”
“Yeah, but I’m so nervous to call him!” James exclaimed, eyes wide. “What if he just wants to forget about it? What if he thinks I’m ugly in the light? Oh fuck, what if he’s married? Or straight?”
Getting sick of his friend’s panic, Remus reached for James’s phone. “What’s he saved under?” he asked, looking towards James expectantly.
Sipping at his tea, James mumbled something softly.
“What was that?”
“Pretty boy.”
“Jesus, James, you’re hopeless.”
“I’m in love, Moony! What do you expect? What are you sending him?” James asked anxiously, standing to look.
But as Remus sent a simple, ‘Last night was fun’ text, there was a Ding! from down the hall, causing all three boys to look over.
“Oh! My brother must be awake. James, you didn’t meet him last night, he got in late, but-” Sirius started, but he stopped as soon as Regulus walked into the room and froze, eyes trained on James.
“James?” he asked, voice full of shock.
“Regulus?” James breathed, eyes lighting up.
Remus realized first. “Oh. No fucking way,” he laughed. 
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sunnami · 1 year ago
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❝i am half-agony, half-hope. . . i have loved none but you.❞
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summary: how the marauders loved you in their time. featuring harry potter the time-traveller and sixth-wheel.
pairing/s: poly!marauders + lily x reader.
tags: reader is referred to as she/her and a mother throughout the whole fic[!], reader is a violent gremlin who craves blood but the marauders love you for that, implied child abuse[!], mentions of blood and violence[!], disgustingly sappy poetic fluff, no angst, happy ending, not proofread we die like finnick odair, edited: very minor detail.
note: there is little plot, it’s just the marauders and their adoration for you. thank you all so much for your kind responses to my first marauders fic :(( ilysm! i hope you enjoy this one as well! because there are parts when i was writing that i ended up kicking my feet in the air and smiling to myself.
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“MY NAME IS HARRY POTTER. I come from twenty-years in the future, you’re my mum — one of my ‘em, actually. It’s complicated. And you’re married to James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black.” 
You blink. 
“Get the fuck out of my room!” 
Harry James Potter has dodged many things in his life. Killing curses, jinxes, girls, Draco Malfoy, and Dudley’s sloppy punches, but he’s never had to dodge his sixteen-year-old mother’s fuzzy slipper before. (Godric, that sounds weird, even in his head.) He doesn’t know precisely how he arrived here. In the Slytherin common room, to be exact, in your dorm. Harry remembers duelling with Death Eaters, Hermione calling his name, and a flash of light hitting him square in the chest, then he remembers waking up in the cold tiles of the snake dungeon. He nearly throws himself off the window when he meets your eyes, bleary from interrupted sleep — it’s not often he gets to meet [read: one of] his dead parents, after all, three had been brutally murdered by Voldemort, and one killed by his own loony cousin. He misses Sirius, though. A lot. And right about now, he could do with some of Hermione’s nagging and brilliant plan-making. 
At present — or past, Harry guesses — he watches you scramble out from your duvet, hand clumsily reaching for your wand as you snarl at him. He wonders if his mother knows that he’s encountered other creatures far more threatening than her. Oh shit, he realizes with all the forces of an angry Hermione Granger, isn’t this the last thing he’s supposed to do? But, well, Harry has given, and given, so much of himself all for the greater good — just this once, he’d like to see his parents alive and well. Even if they were currently trying to blast him into the walls. 
“If you’d just let me explain, mum—!” Harry pleads, nearly dropping his glasses after dodging one of your stinging hexes. Godric, you’re crazy. “Please!” 
“Stop calling me that!” You screech, eyes set ablaze.  Harry finds that you’re quite dynamic with your attacks. A hairbrush, followed by a stinging jinx, then a thick History of Magic textbook — which rudely hits him in the face, but he doesn’t dare complain because you’re his mother, and he’s respectful like that — and after you’ve exhausted your breath, running him into a corner, and your nostrils flare with the stubbornness of a lion, you point the tip of your wand at him. “If this is another one of the Prewett’s shitty pranks, I want you to leave! You are in the girls’ dormitory beyond midnight, and so help me, if you aren’t walking out that door in the next five seconds, I will kill you and string you up by your bottoms for everyone in school to see! Maybe all your stupid rumours of me being a Death-Eater might come true after all!” 
“You’re a Death-Eater?” Harry asks dumbly. 
You growl furiously, and Harry figures that was not the right thing to say. “I wonder what McGonagall would say if I delivered your head to her on a silver platter.” 
“Professor,” Harry corrects with a toothy grin. “Professor McGonagall.” 
You slam his head against the wall.
Definitely the wrong thing to say. 
Harry groans, little Dobby heads floating around his vision. Why was this so much harder than actually facing Voldemort? Quick, he needed to think of something, otherwise he’d end up eviscerated to ashes on your cold, stone floors. Harry is pretty sure you’d use his remains as decoration to send off a message to your enemies. 
“You hate your father,” Harry slurs through the pain, remembering Remus’s stories of how you were the gentlest magical being he’s ever had the privilege to love — now that Harry thinks about it, Remus was being extremely biased, nothing about you is gentle at all. “He’s forcing you to marry someone old enough to be your grandfather. You love to read Muggle literature but had to stop when your father burnt your whole collection of books. Your favorite novel is Persuasion by Jane Austen. It’s the one book you carry with you everywhere, you could never get tired of it.”  
Your grip on his shoulders falters, but the fury in your eyes crackles. “This isn’t funny.” 
“It’s not meant to be funny, mum,” Harry croaks, voice cracking pathetically — strange how this is the most he’s ever uttered the word, mum; it’s a peculiar string of letters, foreign on his tongue. “You have tremors in your left leg from when your father cast the Cruciatus curse on you. One of your dearest friends is a Hogwarts house-elf named Pipley. You cheated on your Transfiguration essay once, and—” 
“That’s enough!” You bark, eyes narrowed in dangerous slits. “I don’t know where you heard those from, you creepy, little stalker, but if you want to keep breathing, then I suggest you shut up.” 
Harry scoffs — you don’t understand. Everything he’s learned about you is from Sirius and Remus. They talk about you with whispered devotion, your name like a prayer on their lips, their eyes glazed with wistfulness as though they could see you reaching out for them — but you were dead in Harry’s time. Yet, you might as well have been alive with their tales of you. 
(“She’s a different kind of beautiful,” Sirius had said, a year after breaking out from Azkaban, sitting by the fire in Grimmauld Place, taking a swig of decade-old firewhiskey, “The kind of beautiful you don’t want to take your eyes off from because you’re afraid she’ll disappear from your eyes. But you won’t forget her, oh no, you’ll memorize the freckles and moles on her skin, the scars from her years, the light in her eyes, and the way she holds her head up high. You should have seen her, James, she. . . she was — is glorious.”) 
“I told you,” says Harry firmly — although he loves his mother very much, she’s beginning to wear him out, “My name is Harry James Potter, I come from twenty-years in the future. You are one of my parents.” A lightbulb flashes in his head. He squirms in your hold, reaching for his robe pocket until he finds the thing he’s looking for. Harry dangles the ring in front of you, grinning in success when your eyes flash in recognition. “It’s—” 
“A family heirloom,” You say breathlessly. The alexandrite winks under the light, a familiar gold band with the Latin inscription of your House words. “Where did you steal this from?” 
Harry rolls his eyes. “You left it for me in my Gringotts vault. It’s my heirloom now. You have to believe me, there’s no way you can deny this.” 
You take a step backwards, nibbling on your lower lip, as you stagger to your bed — Harry nearly stumbling to catch you in case you fell; adjusting to the living proof of time travel was quite difficult, he, of all people, should know. He exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “Magic, amirite?” 
You throw a pillow at him, which he catches gracefully thanks to his Seeker reflexes, as you plop down in the comforts of your quilts. “Sleep. The other girls won’t be back until the end of the holiday. We can deal with whatever this is in the morning. It’s way too early for me to process the idea of a future Potter spawn following me around.” 
Harry smiles. “Yes, mum.” 
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ONE THING THAT his fathers failed to tell him about you, and that Harry had to learn himself, was that you took ages to get ready. You sat on the chair in front of your vanity mirror, the birch wood legs whittled with snakes, and it was as though you had a Sticking Charm on the cushion. Harry didn’t know there could be so many creams, oils, and serums, and powders one put on their face. He blanches when you turn to offer him a cream for his under eyes. (“Suit yourself.” You shrug, turning to brush your cheek with dusts of pink. “Just saying, those dark circles aren’t doing you any favors.”)
“What am I like in the future?” You ask, a kind lilt to your voice, much like a warm hug, much like home. 
Harry stiffens, shoving his hands in pockets of the robes that were twice his size — you had given him the garments of Lucius Malfoy to change in, which you apparently had stolen from his room. It’s come full circle, really, the Sorting Hat had once told him he would be great in Slytherin, and now here he was, looking fabulous in green — because he was about to hurl at the feel of the velvet on his skin, knowing slimy Lucius Malfoy had worn it. (“No son—” You pause with a tight purse in your lips, as if you still can’t accept the fact. Harry doesn’t blame you. “—no son of mine will be parading around in red of all colors, future or not.” And Harry finds that he really doesn’t care, so long as you call him your son.)  
“Loved,” replies Harry gruffly, avoiding your eyes in the reflection of your mirror — they were piercing. One look and Harry wanted to spill all of his deepest, darkest secrets. He remembers the photographs in his album, the one he’s stared at so many times as a child. It’s a moving photograph of the five of you, fresh out of Hogwarts, each wearing a smile that stretched from ear-to-ear. Before Sirius and Remus, it was the only semblance of proof that Harry had — that you had once been alive. Remus is holding you by the waist in the picture, twirling you around as autumn leaves fell. You were — are — loved, and Harry thinks there’s no better description than that. 
(“I bloody hated her cat,” says Remus with a roguish quirk to his lips, regalling Harry with more talks of his parents. “Sirius, too. We just never got along with the little creature. But your mother loved it, and we would have done anything to make her happy. She deserved it, you see. She deserved more than what I had to offer her, but still she chose me anyway. And I am a selfish man, Harry, I crave glimpses of her and the whispers of her voice. She has made me a mad man whose only reprieve is her touch.”) 
You hum knowingly. “Stupid question, I guess. Since you aren’t allowed to reveal anything more about the future.” You sigh, gracefully threading your arms in the sleeves of your shirt, a green tie in the center of your collar. “Except, of course, when you gave me a heart attack in the middle of the night by telling me the last thing I want to become — no offense, I just don’t see how a relationship with those rowdy bunch would work. They get on my nerves far too much for me to ever feel anything other than disgust.” 
Harry doesn’t need a mirror to see that his expression has contorted in confusion; brows knitted and upper lip crinkled. By their memories of you, you all were madly in love in Hogwarts. Damn. This just made his trip to the past a lot harder. No maze seems to be ever just a maze. 
Luckily, you don’t notice him brewing a grand master plan to bring his parents together. Instead, you say, “But you don’t seem to be phased by any of this. If I had been thrown twenty years into the past, I would have puked my guts out twice at some point.” 
“Thanks for the image,” says Harry with a scowl. Truthfully, it had either been a present with a noseless Dark Lord to face, trauma to unpack but really never have the chance to, or a past where all of his parents were alive, and a chance to talk with them for however long he has. He knows where he’ll be staying, thank you very much. 
“Anytime,” You reply with an impish smile. 
Your heels pad across the floor as you walk over to him, mouth clicking as you pat the top of his head, full of wild, untameable Potter hair. “You need a trim soon,” You mutter, frowning, as you brush the thick strands away from his eyes, then you gasp — and Harry knows exactly what’s coming next. “Oh, you’ve got Evans’s eyes. That’s freaky.” 
“I know.” Harry grins. 
“Here’s the plan,” You say as you lead him out of your room, making sure no one saw him walking out of your door and getting the wrong impression — because that would be so wrong on many levels, but also, explaining to someone else that the person beside you was a time-traveller was just complicated in general. The Slytherin dungeon is unfamiliarly familiar, eerily quiet, as the two of you made your way out. “Just say you’re Potter’s distant relative, twice or thrice removed, and you’ve always been here. If you lie to their faces enough, they’ll believe it eventually.” 
“Will that work?” Harry doesn’t really mind — he needs a connection to James, his father, if he’s going to work out a connection between you and the others, because at the moment, it doesn’t seem like you’re too fond of them. There’s a tick on your jaw every time you mumble the word, Potter. Nevertheless, Harry decides he’s going to spend the duration of the holiday break trying to set you up with them — on the list of most insane things he’s ever done, living out the Parent Trap was high up the tally. 
You shrug. “They’ve fallen for less.” 
(“She’s got this adorable habit when she lies,” Sirius tells Harry, whipping up a stack of pancakes for their breakfast — Remus browsing through the morning paper. It’s the closest he’s ever been to a normal family. “It’s not obvious to her, of course, but I know her more than I know my own name. So we play along with it.” For a moment, he stops drizzling the maple syrup on the well-cooked batter, gazing at Remus fondly. “D’you remember that, Moony? She led us straight to one of her pranks, and we ended up covered in slug slime. She was so obvious — with her adorable fucking giggles. I need help with Charms, she said, and we knew right away it was a set-up. But it didn’t matter. I’d happily let her lead me to my ruin.”)  
The Great Hall is the same as Harry remembers. Now that most have returned home for the holidays, those who stay back mingle with students from other Houses, sharing meals under the bewitched ceiling, their low murmurs and hushed Christmas greetings bouncing off the walls. Harry scours the four tables to find a hint of blazing red hair, or the scent of impending trouble. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to search very far. As fate would have it, James Potter finds you — and where he is, Sirius Black is sure to follow. 
You’re barely seated when James comes bounding over to your table — more precisely, he struts, and Harry is horrified to ever be proven wrong by Snape, of all people. He ignores the roll of your eyes as he drags a leg over the bench, sitting to face you as Sirius occupies the space to your left before Harry can even sit down. He can’t even fathom how weird it is to see his parents as rambunctious teenagers. Lovesick, rambunctious teenagers. 
“Morning, dove.” James preens under your glare, stealing a grape from your bowl with a boyish smirk. His hair looks as though he’s ran his hand through it many times. “You look ravishing today.” 
“As always,” Sirius pipes in. “But that eyeshadow really isn’t complementing your skin tone, my darling.” 
You smile at him, right before your lips twist into a cutthroat sneer. “Piss off, Black.”
James stifles a laugh as he shovels a mass of potatoes on your plate, then pumpkin pasties, and slides a steaming cup of Dragon Well tea in front of you. 
“What the hell are you doing, Potter?” You reach over to smack his arm when he sprinkles apple slices and bacon on your breakfast. 
“What does it look like?” James smiles lopsidedly. “You need to eat more, honey.”
(In the future, Sirius will tell Harry, “It started off as a joke, a way to get on her nerves — but then, it just became this thing about taking care of her, making sure she got enough sleep before her tests, wondering if she had breakfast or dinner, staying with her in the library, walking her to the Slytherin common room, and sending her stupid notes just to make her laugh. You don’t get it, Harry. I’d give my every breath to ensure her life. We all would.” Harry doesn’t see Sirius any more during that evening, but he hears a bottle crashing against a wall, cracking into a million pieces, and the masked sound of Sirius sobbing, and Harry decides to leave him alone for the night.) 
Then, you tear your eyes away from James — he huffs, pushing your plate to you, mildly annoyed that you’ve deprived him of your eyes; they were his favorite part of you, you see, so expressive and full of life; James thinks you put the stars to shame — and thankfully, you remember that Harry still exists. You lightly smack Sirius’s leg until he gives Harry some room to sit. “Potter, meet other Potter. It’s the holidays, shouldn’t it be the perfect time to let go of House prejudices and spend time with family?” 
James looks at Harry up and down. “You must be from dad’s side of the family with all that hair.” 
Harry lets out a breath of relief. That was easy — way too easy. When he takes the vacant space in between you and Sirius, you dump all the available food on his plate, just as James had done for you. 
“Eat,” You say with a tone of finality. “You look like the wind could snap you in half.” 
“Yes, m—” Harry stops himself before he could finish his sentence, avoiding Sirius’s curious gaze. 
“Wow.” Sirius pokes Harry in the shoulder and in the cheek. “You really look like a mini-James, you’ve even got his terrible eyesight.” 
“Oi!” 
Your fork clatters against the silverware as you turn to Sirius with a shrill. “Not that I do enjoy your company — because, trust me, I do not want you here at all and would very much prefer if you got out of my sight — but why are you here? The Gryffindor table is over there. Unless your housemates finally got sick of you, Potter, which I can definitely see happening.” 
James chuckles, tossing another grape in his mouth without taking his eyes off you. “It’s as you said, isn’t it? It’s the time for putting aside House prejudices. And I think it’s a lovely day to enjoy a meal with my favorite snake.” 
“Drop dead,” You retort, digging into your chicken with a little more force than necessary. 
“Oh, dove.” James shakes his head, a teasing grin pulling at his lips. “It’s cute that you think death will keep me from you.” 
(Harry’s been told before, probably by Sirius, that this line had been wedged into his wedding vows for you. “A dramatic one, James was,” Sirius chuckles to himself one morning, Harry and Hermione listening intently, “He always said he’d rather die than ever hurt her. There was this time in seventh year, they had a fight — it was ugly — and she had ignored him for a week. James cried in Remus’s arms begging him to cut his heart out, saying that he didn’t deserve to keep on breathing, not after making you cry.”) 
“That is so creepy,” You say in disgust, scrunching your nose. Sirius chortles at your side. “I still wonder why Evans agreed to go out with you.” 
“It’s all part of the charm, dove.” James winks. “It’s all part of the charm.” 
Harry wants to barf, actually.
After breakfast, James then decides to introduce Harry to Lily, Remus, and Peter. (He’s gonna need the patience of a saint to not Avada Kedavra that rat on the spot.) Harry had spent the whole morning watching Sirius peel oranges and give them to you with a smitten look in his eyes — naturally, you gave whatever Sirius offered you to Harry, and each time Padfoot would visibly wilt. If he were in his Animagus form, Harry thinks he would be whining by now, tongue out and all. James and Sirius follow after you like lost puppies when you extricate yourself from the table.
“Where are you going?” James calls, hot on your heels as you leave the Great Hall.
“Away from you, Potter!” 
And James actually sighs when you turn the corner and disappear from their peripheral vision. Seconds later, he turns to Harry with a blinding smile, “She’s definitely charmed.”
Harry chortles.
“Well, come on then!” James guffaws as he wraps an arm around Harry’s neck — this is so, so strange. They begin walking in the opposite direction of where you went. “I still can’t believe we’ve got another Potter here and in Slytherin. I think I would have remembered Minnie calling your name during the Sorting Ceremony. What year are you in?” 
He’s supposed to start his sixth-year in a few weeks. “Fifth.” Technically. 
“We should ask Lily,” says Sirius, hands in his pockets and ebony ringlets tickling his nape. “She’s got the best memory out of all of us.”
It’s odd, Harry thinks, meeting the person who’s got his eyes — or the other way around, as people have told him. It’s like someone carved out the emeralds of Lily Evans’s eyes and bestowed it upon Harry for safekeeping. She sits beside Remus Lupin, head resting on his shoulder, hands clasped together, as they enjoy the shade. Nex to them, oblivious to their intimate conversation, is Peter Pettigrew — with his rosy, cherub cheeks and innocent blue eyes; not at all the image of a pathological, cowardly liar. Their heads snap in attention as James boisterously cries for their name. 
“Marauders — and Lily-pad — meet ickle Potter.” James lightheartedly whacks Harry on the back, to which Harry feels his lungs spill out from his mouth, he’s sure there’s an imprint of his father’s hand on his back now. 
“There’s two Potters in Hogwarts?” Sea-green eyes look at him in scrutiny as Lily knits her brows. “How even is the castle still standing?” 
James cackles like it’s the best joke he’s ever heard in his entire life, slapping his knee for dramatic effect. Oh, well, at least they’re buying Harry’s half-baked lie. At this point, it’s not even baked, it’s just wet, soggy, and poorly done. “Good one, Lily-pad!”
Sirius ruffles Remus’s shaggy blonde hair, canines bared in a wide grin. “This one here’s Moony, uptight prefect in the morning and absolute beast in the evening.” 
Harry blanches. Surely he was talking about his furry problem, right? Right? 
Remus doesn’t even flinch, just peels off Sirius’s hand from him and extends his hand out to Harry. “Please do not mind him. Remus Lupin, nice to meet you. Although, I can’t believe this is the first time we’ve met. We would have definitely remembered if we had another Potter in our midst.” 
“It’s true, we Potters are just hard to forget,” says James, smiling cheekily. 
Harry pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Mum didn’t take the Potter name. I’m part Dursley. Muggle.” 
Lily hums, toying at the ends of her bright hair. “Dursley, huh? What a familiar name.” 
“It’s a common one,” Harry assures her — not at all the names of the people who would take him in after they died. And make his life miserable. 
“I suppose you’re right,” says Lily, unconvinced. 
“And this is Peter.” James introduces the boy eagerly, pride in his voice — as though this isn’t the person who literally allies himself with Voldemort. As if Peter won’t betray his friends all because of fear. 
“N–Nice to meet you,” Peter stammers with a nervous fidget, “Any family of James is a friend of ours.” 
Harry’s eye twitches. 
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IT IS ALMOST COMICAL — the way their eyes land on your figure, bursting through the courtyard from the corridors, winter cloak swishing with every step, tendrils of hair swaying in the crisp wind, and head held up high, thick books under your arms. You pause in front of the Marauders, face blank, then you turn to Peter, greeting him with a: “Hello, only Gryffindor I can tolerate.” 
Peter’s cheeks burn a saccharine hue of pink. Oh, no, no, no — absolutely not — Harry will not stand for a little crush Peter Pettigrew has on his mother. He needs James to act now. “Hi,” Peter replies shyly. 
Lily quirks her lips. “Hello, princess, see your score for the Astronomy test yet?”
You scowl. “Zip it, Evans.” 
The sound of Lily’s laughter fills the atmosphere — it’s the sort of melody that makes flowers bloom in deserts. “Had a bit of difficulty with the star charts?” 
Sirius pinches your cheek — Harry thinks you’re going to murder him on the spot. “Difficulty? I think this one just slept through the whole thing.” 
James snickers. “Must have been one hell of a nap, princess. You were drooling on my jumper.” 
“I most certainly do not drool!” You gasp, appalled, eyes wide as you step away from Sirius.
Sirius rolls his eyes. “What? Is drooling too barbaric for the pretty, little pure-blooded princess now? Newsflash, pet, you’re just as human as we are.” 
“Oh, you horrible, loathsome, infuriating—” You whip around to beat his chest with the course book in your grasp — it’s the kind of book Hermione would consider for light reading. 
“Irresistibly attractive—?” Sirius supplies for you, grin widening with as he captures your wrist with his hands. 
“In your dreams!” You shrill. 
You exhale slowly, eyes closing, chest rising when you take a sharp inhale. You open your eyes and stare straight at Harry — for a moment he fears that you’ll bite his head off. “Harry, dear, will you accompany me to the library? I think I’ve found something important regarding your situation.” 
Harry nods. “Is it time already?” 
“Yes,” You say firmly. “And time is of the essence. Come on.” 
“Wait!” Lily calls out to you as you turn to head back to the castle, Harry in tow — he tries to avoid the way James is glaring at your linked arms. “Hogsmeade next week?” 
Your jaw falls to the ground — this must have been unrehearsed, if the others’ reactions were anything to go by; Remus had dropped his book in shock, Sirius looked like he couldn’t decide between applauding Lily’s bravery or shaking her, and James was somehow frozen in time. “Excuse me?” 
“You’re excused, princess,” says Lily, dimples poking out of her cheek as she takes another step towards you. “You, me, Hogsmeade. A date. I’m sure you’ve gone on one of those before.” 
Harry elbows your stomach as you stare at Lily in shock. It takes a few moments to break you out of your stupor. “A–And what makes you think I’ll just go with you?” 
Lily shrugs. “I’m fit. Aren’t I, Remus?” 
“The fittest,” says Remus without missing a beat. 
You laugh incredulously. “Do you just expect me to go along with this? You’re mad, Evans.” 
Harry glares at you. You need to go along with this. 
“Are you scared, princess?” Lily’s face is inches away from yours, noses almost touching — Harry doesn’t know if he should keep watching this painful way of flirting — as she grins at you, happiness barely contained within her eyes. 
To your credit, you don’t back down. (Harry has to say this for the masses: he saw your gaze flitter down to Lily’s lips for a split second.) “Stop calling me that, Evans.” 
“One date, then.” 
You growl in exasperation, eyes flickering to the boys behind her back — pretending not to hear their conversation. “I suppose I’ll have to deal with them as well?” 
Lily beams and Harry swears sunflowers could grow in her direction. “We’re a package deal.” 
“Unfortunately,” You utter — but Harry notices it, the lack of venom in your voice. You straighten your posture, nose lifted haughtily, “I choose where we’re going.” 
“Done.” The sun peeks out from the cloud just as Lily smiles at you. 
“And I want to—” 
“Done,” Remus interjects raspily, peering up at you from underneath his lashes. “Anything you want, it’s yours.” 
You fight a growing smile, but continue, “If we’re going out in public, you’re going to have to wear—” 
“Done,” says James giddily, he looks as though he could kiss you in front of everyone without a care in the world.  
“You can’t just agree to anything I say!” You flap your arms in frustration. 
“Yes, dear,” Sirius teases. 
“Do you know how much you piss me off, Black?” You squawk. “Because you are this close to—”
“You are so fucking beautiful,” Sirius confesses, every pretense shed raw from his skin, sincerity pouring from his words. 
“I—” You falter, heat rushing to your cheeks. “You’ve gone mad.” 
“It’s your fault, dove,” says James, eyes twinkling like crescent moons as he smiles. “You best take accountability for this.” 
“You’re incorrigible — all of you,” You say as you avoid their gazes.
(But they were yours. Past, present, and future. They loved you so much that their soul was no longer their own — it was yours; yours to keep, yours to break, and yours to love. It would be unjust to ask them why they loved you. Do we ask why the sun rises each day without rest? Do we ask a daisy to stop blooming, or a tree to stop growing after it has endured storms and floods? After all, we do not ask why humans follow the light in a tunnel shrouded in darkness.) 
“Come on, Harry, let’s go.” You reach for his hand, he notices immediately that the tips of your ears are pink, and your palms are warm with sweat. He barely sees Peter wave goodbye before you tug him in the direction of the castle entrance. 
“Wait up!” Remus catches up to you two in quick strides, offering to carry your books for you — not that you agree, stubborn Slytherin that you are. “I’ll walk you to the library.” 
“There’s no need for that, Lupin, thank you.” You dodge his eyes, lips tightly pressed together, nails slightly digging into Harry’s arm. 
“Remus,” He says with a twinkle. “Call me Remus.” 
“Alright.” You pause. “Remus.” 
(In that moment, Remus wonders if you remember decking Lucius Malfoy in the face to defend him in your fourth year. He didn’t think he deserved to even breathe in the same air as you — the pure-blooded princess, dressed in clothing worth more than his life, adorned in jewelry he could only dream to afford, raised to believe she was better than everyone else. Then, you beat up Evan Rosier the next month in the courtyard, eyes ablaze, extravagant silk marred with grass stains and mud, and knuckles split open. You spit blood on the ground, looking at Lily then back at Rosier. “Red,” You say, kicking him one last time in the stomach, unafraid of McGonagall’s wrath growing louder and louder. “Just like everyone else. Like those Muggleborns you fear. We’ve all got dirty blood, Rosier. Suck it up.” 
“I’ll tell your father about this!” Rosier bellows through bloody teeth. 
“Tell him!” You grab his neck and slam your forehead against his. “Tell him that I decide my own future now!”
Remus doesn’t even have to think about it. 
He falls in love.) 
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FUNNILY ENOUGH, IT’S LILY who gives you her heart first, before anyone else does. It’s the last month of her first year at Hogwarts — it still hasn’t quite sunk in yet that she was a witch. Her, not Petunia, but her — Lily Evans, the witch. Apparently, some people can’t believe it either. A girl from Ravenclaw calls her this foul word, she’s heard it a few times now but it always hurts the same. James and Sirius get into a fight for her honor, now faced with detention later this evening. But she can’t help but wonder, what if they were right? What if she really didn’t belong in this world? It was too good to be true, anyway. Perhaps she’ll just run a flower boutique with Petunia.
“Oi.” 
The sound of your voice startles her, and she nearly topples over in the Great Lake. Lily catches sight of your Slytherin colors and resigns herself to another round of name-calling. “What do you want?” 
“They’re wrong, you know,” You tell her, ignoring Lily’s question. You look down on her with your nose raised arrogantly — she wishes she could be like you. Born to be magic. “You’ve got a terrifying brain locked up in your head there, Evans. And they know it, too. They’re scared.” 
Lily scoffs. “I’m just a Mudblood to them. There’s nothing to be intimidated by.” 
You sneer. “Don’t say that word. You’re more than that. More than them. They’ve got long ways to go to prove they have a place in this world. But you — you’ve defied the odds and you were destined to become magic. You don’t have to prove anything. You have the right to be in the wizarding world and no one can take that away from you.” 
Then, you pivot on your heels, not bothering to hear her reply. “You’re my rival now, Evans. Do keep up. We’ve got an Astronomy test tomorrow. I look forward to seeing how you do then.” 
Lily just gapes. She’s certain there’s butterflies in her stomach. Her heart thumps wildly against her ribcage. Lily raises her hands to feel her blushing cheeks. There’s a light unfamiliar sensation in her stomach — like the urge to kick her legs and scream into a pillow, or more precisely, chase after you and hold your hand.
She stiffens.
Oh.
part two
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luveline · 1 year ago
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𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 —send me a shy!reader request for any character (with a plot) and I'll write a >1k drabble
sirius/james introducing shy!reader to remus. and shes just like quiet and in awe, but remus loves it.
luveline's 40k party ☆ tysm for requesting! remus x shy fem!reader
James is used to your personality after months of being your lecture neighbour, unperturbed by your quiet. "It's going to be fun," he promises, handing you a cold glass of cranberry vodka. "They're nice, okay? I won't let anyone irritate you." 
He's hosting a party and had the generosity to invite you round early. He's easing you in, so to speak. It took him two weeks of steady Hellos for you to work up the courage to say Hi back, another two weeks for small talk, a month before you felt comfortable speaking to him first. If you're that shy, a party is basically torture.
"It's not about irritating me," you say. 
"I know, I'm messing." James lists his head to the left. A second later, there's a knock at the door. "Aha. Wait here, shortcake, there's someone I want you to meet." 
"James," you say after him, wet from your glass leaking down to your sleeve, "what?" 
"I asked him to come early and say hello! He's quiet and handsome and you'll love him, just don't stare at his nose." 
What's wrong with his nose? you think, alarmed. 
James opens the door. Two new voices emerge, one scratchy and a little high, the other smoother. "I need to pee so bad," the scratchy one declares, followed by bounding footsteps up the stairs. 
"You alright?" the smoother asks.
You think there's patting, a hug, "I'm brilliant! You smell really nice, Remus, like a garden." 
"Lovely."
"In a good way! Come and meet my Y/N, you remember I told you about her nice gel pens?" 
James leads the smooth-voiced Remus into the living room. You hurriedly put down your drink and stand, wiping your wet hands in your shirt. You cringe at the darkening fabric but hide your grimace as they stop in front of you. 
"Remus, Y/N. Y/N, Remus," James introduces you both. 
Remus has a scar across his nose that seems cruelly cut. There's another beside it that starts in his upper lip, both of which end in his eyebrow. You know how self-conscious it feels to be looked at, so you manage to smile and offer your hand without too much of it. He's handsome with his scars, a nice nose with a ridge and brown eyes the colour of caramelised sugar.
"Hello," Remus says, shaking your hand. His is big enough to make yours feel small. 
"I invited her early because she's more fun than the rest of our lot," James says, throwing himself down on the sofa and kicking his legs out on the coffee table. 
Remus taps your elbow very gently as if to usher you to sit and sits down beside you, enough space to be casual but too little to stop the rampant nerves that blossom in your stomach. 
Remus asks about your life. What you're studying, where you're from, if James is being nice to you. While James is touchy in the rough older brother way, scrunching your shoulder and shaking you when you're not expecting it. Remus is touchy in a different way, you find, almost as if he doesn't know he's doing it. His shoe bumps your shoe, his hand falls down between his outer thigh and your own, his knuckles touching your jeans very lightly. He spins in his seat to talk to you. 
You don't notice other people arriving, nor the scratchy-voiced friends return. All you can do is look up at Remus with wide eyes. Your nerves meld to something warmer. 
"And what do you do?" you ask him. 
He smiles like you've wandered into a secret. "I'm trying to write a book." 
"He's being a bit much," Sirius says to James, the two now loitering in the doorway with matching beers. You and Remus chatter on, unaware of their running commentary.
"It's a very strong reaction. I knew she'd like him, but I didn't think she'd like him like that." James takes a sip of his drink. Remus asks you a quiet question. You duck your head, playing with your sleeves, and Remus, the bastard, ducks his head to follow your gaze, smiling at you all the while. 
James almost chokes, pointing his bottle toward you both as though Sirius isn't already looking. "He's eating it up. I forgot how flirty he is."
"She'll be nice to him, won't she?" Sirius asks, like it's a done deal. To be fair, Remus seems enthralled with you. 
"Definitely. She's very nice. Oh, look, that's sick, she's gonna pass out." James winces as Remus takes your arm into his hand. 
Remus wouldn't do anything cruel, but James wasn't joking when he told Remus that you were exceedingly, achingly shy. He's about to step in and rescue you, but you turn into Remus' touch and pull your leg up on the sofa to make yourself comfortable. Your voice is animated, if quieter than the average person's.
"Woah," James says, beaming.  
Remus flirts almost as a defence, like he wants to get the rejection over and done with so he can move on. You've yet to reject; you're looking up at him in moderate awe, your lips quirked into an easy smile. 
"Boo!" James calls, flicking his bottle cap at Remus, who brushes it away. "Took me three weeks to get a smile out of her," he mutters. "What a dick." 
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missmoonfrost · 4 months ago
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Hogwarts Express - a wolfstar microfic
@wolfstarmicrofic
September 1 - Hogwarts express Words: 484
Sirius can barely conceal his excitement as he sprints through the corridor in the Hogwarts express, looking for a place to sit. He moves on from an empty compartment – he want to make friends. For the first time he will be far away from mum and dad and allowed to talk to anyone he wants. Someone is blocking his way. A boy his own age sits on the floor right in the corridor.
“Excuse me.” He shuffles by. “Rather inconvenient placement, don’t you think?”
“Sorry”, the boy mumbles and hides half his face against his knees, “where are we supposed to sit?”
“Just sit anywhere you like.”
The boy looks back and forth in the corridor and then back at him. “I don’t see a better place.”
Is he joking? Sirius presses the handle of a compartment door. “This is a door. They open. There is compartments inside.” He always thought mums and dads talk about useless mudbloods where exaggerated. But clearly some people are denser than other.
Remus blushes hard. Just because he has never been on a train before. Just because mum and dad has never taken him anywhere. He isn’t stupid, he understood there were seats somewhere, but the buzzing crowd and the threateningly big train had just got so overwhelming he felt like curling up as soon as he got on-board.
Of course, it had to be some posh snob already in his robe that found him. On top of that one who couldn’t explain it without sounding like Remus was a complete moron. Remus doesn’t want to sit in the same compartment as him. But on the other hand, what if he tries to open another door and it doesn’t work? What if it’s some kind of magic he hasn’t learned yet? He quickly steps in after the posh boy, giving him a sour look. The posh boy rolls his eyes at him and closes the door behind him.
They are greeted by an overly excited boy that proudly presents himself as James Potter and the other boy in the compartment as Peter Pettigrew.
James bounces up and down in his seat. “I’m so happy! We’re all going to be best friends. I can already feel it!”
Remus snorts and hears Sirius do the same. Well, at least none of them are as naïve as James. He can’t help it, but the corner of his mouth twitches up and he shoots the posh boy a quick glance. He meets his eyes with a smirk and quickly looks away.
If Sirius was superstitious - which he is not, mind you - he would say that’s the moment when a bond was formed. A silent recognition long before they really became friends. Long before everything else.
If Remus was more romantic than his cynic heart has room for he would say that it was the moment when he found his soulmate.
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ellecdc · 2 months ago
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i have a small idea! (this totes bounced off that one poly!marauders pregnancy post)
sirius would absolutely find comfort laying on readers belly later on in her pregnancy animagus style🐾
I loved this! you must've read my mind; yesterday I was considering sending out a request for any pregnant!reader or dad!marauders prompts!
poly!marauders x pregnant!reader who Padfoot is obsessed with [1.4k words]
CW: fem afab!reader, pregnancy, discourse regarding shower temperatures
“Wait, so, explain to me why you can’t both just take a shower together?” Remus asked as he followed Sirius and James into the flat, the two boys having argued nearly the whole way home from the shops over who was going to get to shower first.
Sirius made a derisive scoffing sound as if Remus had asked something particularly ridiculous. 
“Remus.” He muttered like he was talking to a troublesome toddler. “My hair and skin are only as beautiful as they are because I don’t scald myself under water heated by hellfire.” 
“My showers are not that hot, Pads.” James argued, though Remus could hear the smile in his voice. 
“My gods.” Sirius breathed out. “It’s starting to affect your brain cells too.” 
James made an offended sound and swatted at Sirius. “Fine, out with you then; go take your freezing shower, but don’t come looking for me for cuddles when you can’t stop shivering.” 
“I’d sooner find Moons for warm cuddles.” Sirius responded haughtily. “Those werewolf genes keep him nice and warm.”
Remus hummed in acknowledgement. “Dove may just have me beat there soon.” 
All three boys took a moment to sigh lovingly at the thought of you; growing and stretching and likely more than a little uncomfortable but doing it so gracefully nonetheless. 
“Sirius if you’re just going to sit here with hearts in your eyes…” James started, though he didn’t need to finish his threat when Sirius turned and took off in the direction of the shower.
“You do come out of the shower a little pink, love.” Remus murmured into the side of James’ face once he knew Sirius was out of earshot. 
James scoffed but leaned into Remus’ embrace. “How does he know that hot showers aren’t how I get my hair and skin so beautiful?” 
“Fair enough.” Remus laughed before he moved to put the groceries away. “But I don’t want Y/N getting into any showers with you; we don’t want her blood pressure rising.” 
James hummed in agreement. “But you may have to tell her that; her showers are equally steamy.” 
“Okay,” Remus agreed, “family meeting tonight about appropriate shower temperatures.” 
The two worked through the kitchen in relative silence before James slowed in his movements; dark brows furrowing behind his wire frames. “Speaking of showers, I don’t hear one running.” 
“Did he seriously fight you for dibs over the shower and then not get into the shower?” Remus laughed, causing James to stalk down the hall muttering something under his breath along the lines of “stupid no good sodding handsome boyfriend, going to be the death of me”. 
Remus waited for the inevitable yelp when James startled Sirius from behind, digging his fingers into his ribs in punishment.
He waited for the two of them to start trading insults - far louder than necessary - that quickly divulged into heated kisses where they pressed each other up against various solid surfaces.
Except no yelps, no tickles, no insults, and no passion could be heard.
In fact, it was quiet…too quiet. 
“Is there some weird portal in the flat that my partners keep disappearing through or something?” Remus called as he moved in the direction of the bedroom. “And where’s dovey?” 
But the answer only came when Remus rounded the corner into their bedroom - nearly colliding with James who had paused just inside the doorway - to find you asleep, curled up on your side in bed with a placid looking Padfoot curled up behind you and his head resting on your waist; your ever growing bump (that you’ve insisted cannot possibly grow anymore) dutifully under his chin.
Remus made an affectionate tsking sound as he took in the sight. “Did you get distracted, Pads?” And the dog’s tail began thumping loudly against the bed, though Remus could tell Padfoot was working very hard to not move his body in any other way lest he disturb you. 
The three of you always joked that whatever Sacred 28 gene allowed Pureblood's to appear impassive, bored, and to expertly save face was absent in Sirius, who never bothered hiding a single one of his emotions; the way he was feeling always displayed loudly and proudly on his face, though he claimed that was by choice rather than design.
But for as expressive or closed off as Sirius could or couldn’t be, Padfoot didn’t have a poker face to save his life.  
An almost embarrassing coo left James’ lips as he made his way to the bed, kneeling carefully on the edge of the bed so as to not disturb you, before reaching over to place a hand on your bump.
Padfoot, for his part, snapped his jaw playfully at James, pretending to bite his wrist only to then lick his arm aggressively when James diverted his loving caress to the top of his head instead. 
“She’s been so tired lately.” James murmured to no one in particular once Padfoot seemed appeased and he moved his hand to push some hair back from your forehead. 
“You try building an entire new person from scratch.” Remus chuckled quietly, moving to stand behind James but pausing when Padfoot’s head shot up.
The canine stared down at your midsection with his ears standing straight up in the air before tilting his head comically at a nearly 90 degree angle.
James laughed, making a breathy ‘wha-’ sound when Padfoot’s head snapped in the other direction, snout still pointed dutifully at your stomach. 
The dog let out a quiet whimper and pressed his wet nose into your side, causing James to laugh and Remus to tsk chidingly at him for risking waking you up.
“Is he kicking, Pads?” James asked then, moving his hand to the now damp spot on your shirt from where Padfoot poked you so rudely as the dog’s tail thumped excitedly on the bed. 
“Please.” Remus scoffed playfully as he reached forward to place his hand next to James’. “Don’t you mean she?”
“They” you corrected suddenly - though your eyes remained closed - as your boyfriends (two human and one currently canine) hovered around your midsection “are lucky they’re so loved when they’re currently using my ribs as a kick drum.” Your breath hitching in time with James and Remus’ hands feeling a strong thump and Padfoot’s head tilting the other direction. 
“Awe, I’m sorry, angel.” James cooed as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.
“You should be.” You grumbled, though Remus could see the faint upturn in the corner of your lips. “It’s your fault.”
“My fault?” James shrilled. 
You hummed in agreement. “They were very well behaved before you showed up.”
“How do you know it’s not Moony’s fault?”
You cracked one eye open to look at Remus who simply winked at you. 
“Just do.” 
“Pads?” James tried then.
“If it was Sirius, I would say the chances were equal.” You admitted as you settled back into the pillow. “But baby is well behaved for Padfoot.” 
“Well…” James started, looking helplessly between his partners. “Well this is just not fair.”
You let out a groan and shoved your face into the pillow at the interruption of your nap when Remus finally took pity on you.
“Wasn’t someone supposed to be showering?” 
James looked over at Padfoot who simply stared back at him before letting out a long sigh and resting his head back down on your belly. He wasn’t going anywhere.
“Looks like there’s been a change of plans, Jamie.” Remus translated. 
“Fine.” James grumbled, though Remus could tell his ire was only for show. “Do you wanna join me, Moons?” 
“I showered this morning.” Remus declined as he took James’ spot next to you on the bed.
“I’ll shower with you, Jamie.” You offered as you went to rise, pausing when all three boys protested. 
Well, James and Remus protested. Padfoot let out a bark. 
“You should rest, angel.”
“Leave Jamie to his hellfire showers.” Remus agreed. “I’ll run you a bath after dinner, how does that sound?” 
Apparently that sounded lovely, because you easily fell back into your pillows with a smile on your face, a dog resting its head on your stomach, and Remus rubbing his thumb lovingly against your temple.
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khoa-nguyen · 6 months ago
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Meeting the whole family.
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