#remus lupin x Sirius Black

[my-castles-crumbling]

transfiguration classroom - @wolfstarmicrofic - word count: 231

Tapping her quill against her lower lip, Professor Minerva McGonagall gazed down at her seating chart, then up at her empty classroom, contemplating the options. A new seating arrangement for the fifth years was a must, and this particular class was difficult to place.

But as she listed the students off in her mind, she knew which ones she had to place first: James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew.

Immediately, she wrote Potter and Black's name on opposite sides of the room, knowing it still wouldn't be good enough to keep them quiet, but at least this way they wouldn't be able to completely erupt into chaos. However, as she moved to place Lupin far away from both of his friends, she paused.

Black and Lupin had been different lately. She was getting older, sure, but she recognized the signs. Furtive looks and longing glances. Blushing faces and huge smiles.

Not that she cared about these things a a teacher, but...the two of them would be so good together. And they both deserved to be loved by the other, probably more than either of them realized.

Scratching out the 'R-' near the back of her chart, Minerva instead wrote 'Remus Lupin' in the square right next to 'Sirius Black.'

Sure, they would cause trouble. But maybe other things would happen as well.

NOT that she cared, of course.

[uhhlifeig]

Astronomy Tower - Nov. 19 - word count: 511 - @wolfstarmicrofic

The Astronomy Tower was quiet, a world away from the Gryffindor common room where Sirius Black’s birthday party raged on. 

Remus Lupin sat on the cold stone floor, his back pressed against the wall, knees pulled up to his chest. He tilted his head back, gazing at the stars in the inky black sky.

He’d never been one for loud celebrations. Crowds pressed in too close, the noise became too sharp, and he often found himself slipping away unnoticed. 

Tonight was no different. 

The soft creak of the door broke the silence.

"Thought I’d find you here," Sirius said. He stepped out of the stairwell, his silhouette framed by the moonlight.

Remus looked up, startled. "Shouldn’t you be at your own party?"

The boy shrugged, sinking down beside the werewolf, close enough that their shoulders brushed. "Didn’t want to be there without you."

Remus’s heart stumbled in his chest. He looked away, focusing instead on the stars. "I just needed some air."

"I know," Sirius said simply. He leaned back on his hands, his legs stretched out in front of him. "Too much noise. Too many people. You’ve told me."

"Yeah."

They sat in comfortable silence. The Tower felt like their own private sanctuary at night, when light illuminated the grounds and provided a tranquility that was so rarely seen at Hogwarts.

"Do you ever think about how small we are?" the noiret asked suddenly, his voice quiet.

The dirty blonde glanced at him. "What do you mean?"

"Up there." Sirius gestured to the sky. "The stars. They’ve been there for ages. They’ll be there long after we’re gone. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it? What our place is in all of this."

"Deep thoughts for someone who just blew out seventeen candles," Remus murmured.

The older boy laughed softly. "Birthdays are overrated anyway. Just an excuse for people to throw a party and pretend everything’s perfect for a night."

The taller boy frowned, turning to him. "Is everything not perfect for you?"

Sirius didn’t answer right away. He tilted his head back, his dark hair falling away from his face as he stared at the sky. "It’s just... complicated. The future is scary, you know?"

"Yeah."

"But it’s better when I’m with you lot. With you."

"You make it easier too," Remus admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

The dog animagus turned to him, his gray eyes locking onto the other’s amber ones. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the world narrowing down to just the two of them and the faint hum of the night in the background.

"I think," Sirius began, "I think you’re the moon to my stars."

Remus’s breath hitched. "Sirius..."

But the boy was already leaning in, his eyes searching the other’s face for any sign of hesitation. When he found none, he closed the distance, their lips meeting in a tentative, tender kiss. 

It was soft and sweet, and so, so caring.

When they finally pulled away, their foreheads rested together, their breaths mingling in the cool night air.

"Happy birthday," Remus murmured.

[w-stachu]

Sirius: Moony, I think all of us want to know, are you single?

Remus: Every full moon I turn into a literal monster

Sirius:

Sirius: Answer the question

[yourgalgremlin]

"Sirius was too busy being a big rebel to get married."

— JKR (Edinburgh Book Festival, 2004)

Bsffr, Joanne:

The only thing that man was busy “rebelling against” was ✨heterosexuality✨ & the urge to wear that cųnty black robe w. his titties out 24/7.

He wasn’t too busy amid his own manhunt to go find his ex “roommate” for some flirty banter & a sensual hug because he has his priorities straight

[loonylupin2]

[skyrigel]

People have the audacity to say they weren't fucking.

[logolepsy-babble]

Lily: I want to confess something.

James: Go ahead!

Lily: I fancy girls.

Peter: Me too!

Lily: And… I fancy Mary…

Remus: I’m happy for you. I want you to know you are accepted. I like men.

Sirius: Wait what?

James: Are we all coming out? I’m bi, I fancy Regulus.

Sirius: Ex-fucking-scuse me?

[propussyslayer]

sirius: so what do you do for a living

remus: i hunt and kill zombies

sirius: the fuck no you don't

remus: have you ever seen one?

sirius: no?

remus: then you are fucking welcome

[melstinybrain]

*sirius and james arguing*

james: *takes off his glasses*

sirius: EVEN IF HE- what are you doing?

james: I don't want to see you right now.

[my-castles-crumbling]

dreaming - November 22nd - wolfstar - @taylorswiftmicrofic - word count: 389

Remus was dreaming. That was the only logical explanation. The only explanation that would make it so his life wasn't completely ruined. Because he was currently shirtless in his best friend's bed.

Wincing and frozen, Remus wracked his brain for his last completely solid memory. Something real he could hold on to. But it turned out, that was a terrible idea.

Because his memories of the previous night went from drinking too many butterbeers to lounging on the couched far too close together, to suddenly finding that their hands were trailing places that they normally didn't go. Along thighs and up arms and tracing cheeks. And, as things got hazy, his brain supplied him with blurry memories of both of them laughing as they dragged each other up to the dorm, falling into bed and connecting their lips together.

The memory was brilliant. The feeling of kissing Sirius, of sliding tongues and exploring hands and bare chests pressed together, was the most exhilarating thing Remus had ever felt.

But now it was all tainted by the idea that to Sirius, it had all probably just been for fun. And now everything was ruined, because how could Remus act the same as before, knowing what it was like to finally hold Sirius like he'd always wanted?

Trying not to hyperventilate, he slowly shifted, a tear threatening to fall from his cheek. Could he fake it? Pretend it had been for fun for him, too? Maybe.

Yes, it would be worth it, to keep some little part of the amazing boy next to him. Heaving a shuddering breath, he tried to keep the tears at bay. He swallowed down the sick feeling in his stomach and reminded himself that he regularly hid a much bigger secret, this would be easy. Just act normal, pretend it was a silly drunken encounter.

But as he worried his lip in his teeth and repeated this over and over, he felt two arms wrap around him, Sirius's body pressing into his back, and warm breath whispering into his ear.

"I can feel you panicking, Moons. This meant something to me, too. I'm not going anywhere," Sirius murmured, voice thick with sleep.

It was only then that Remus broke down, turning to face his best friend, and pulling him close. How had he gotten so lucky?

[uhhlifeig]

Transfiguration Classroom - Nov. 20 - word count: 659 - @wolfstarmicrofic

The Transfiguration classroom was buzzing with quiet chatter as Professor McGonagall taught about advanced human-to-animal transfiguration. 

Remus Lupin and Sirius Black sat at the back of the room, side by side as always, quills in hand and parchment scattered across the desk. 

“Moony,” Sirius whispered, leaning close, his breath brushing against Remus’s ear.

“Pay attention,” Remus murmured, his eyes fixed on his parchment.

“I am,” the dog animagus replied, grinning wickedly. “To you.”

The taller boy bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Sirius whispered.

Their hands brushed under the desk- an innocent enough motion, except that Sirius lingered, his fingers lightly tracing the back of Remus’s hand. 

He shot him a warning look, but the noiret only raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening.

From the front of the room, Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, her sharp eyes flicking briefly in their direction. Both boys immediately snapped their attention to her, though Sirius’s fingers didn’t move.

When the lesson ended, McGonagall dismissed the class with her usual brisk efficiency. When the two boys made to leave, though, she spoke up. “Lupin. Black. A word, please.”

Remus and Sirius exchanged a glance, confusion and apprehension flashing between them. They traipsed to her desk as the rest of the class filtered out, James and Peter shooting them curious looks on their way to the door.

McGonagall waited until the room was empty before she folded her hands on her desk and fixed them with her signature stern gaze.

“I assume you two think you’re being subtle?”

Remus blinked. “Subtle about what, Professor?”

The Transfiguration professor arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Mr. Lupin, Mr. Black, I’ve been teaching for longer than either of you have been alive. Do you truly believe I haven’t noticed the... antics taking place at the back of my classroom?”

Sirius, for once, looked genuinely caught off guard. “Antics?”

McGonagall sighed. “The whispered conversations. The not-so-inconspicuous hand-holding. The way you”- she pointed at Sirius- “look at Mr. Lupin as if he were your world.”

Remus turned bright red, his mortification only deepening when Sirius gave a smug grin.

“Well, he is,” Sirius said breezily.

The professor pinched the bridge of her nose. “Mr. Black, I assure you, your devotion is apparent to everyone in this castle with a pair of functioning eyes.”

“Now,” she continued, “while I don’t make a habit of involving myself in my students’ personal lives, I must insist that you refrain from turning my classroom into your personal courting grounds.”

The older boy opened his mouth, presumably to make a cheeky comment, but McGonagall cut him off with a look that could curdle milk.

“And for Merlin’s sake,” she added, her lips twitching ever so slightly, “if you insist on continuing these... displays, at least give the rest of us fair warning before you take a roll in the hay together.”

There was a moment of stunned silence as her words sank in. Then:

“Professor!” Remus exclaimed.

Sirius stared at her, mouth agape. “Did you just-?”

“I believe we’re done here,” McGonagall said briskly, standing and gathering her papers. “Good day, gentlemen.”

They left the classroom in stunned silence, their faces still burning as they made their way to the Gryffindor common room.

“What did she want?” James asked the moment they stepped inside, lounging in an armchair, with Peter playing chess with Mary on a nearby table.

The dog animagus collapsed onto the couch, shaking his head in disbelief. “She knows.”

“Knows what?” Peter asked, confused.

“Everything,” the werewolf muttered, sinking down beside Sirius and covering his face with his hands.

James leaned forward. “What do you mean everything?”

“She caught us,” Sirius said dramatically. “And then she made a joke.”

The glasses-wearing boy’s eyebrows shot up. “McGonagall? Made a joke?”

“A dirty one.”

James’s jaw dropped.

“I think I need to lie down,” Peter declared.

“I think we all do,” James muttered.

[moonstruckme]

Thawing Out

summary: You and Sirius are in dire need of a new coach just weeks before the Olympics. Remus is a former figure skating prodigy forced to retire after a career-ending injury. Though it's not smooth skating right away, those stiff Olympic village beds are dying to be broken in.

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12

cw: modern au, chronic pain

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

Remus still wakes before dark every morning. It’s automatic, an urgency and excitement that thrums through him like an old instinct, born from years of his alarm clock rousing him at this time. The rink is always at its best right now, when they’ve just finished resurfacing the ice and no one else is around. It was Remus’ favorite time to practice. 

Now, he has a new reason to get up. His hip clicks as he does it, so he starts his day with a couple of proactive painkillers. If he really wanted to be proactive he would stretch like he’s supposed to, but there’s no time and Remus doesn’t feel like it. He’ll pay his toll for the negligence later. 

The webpage of his Airbnb boasted a five-minute walk to the rink, but with his hip it takes Remus seven. It’s like an odd sort of muscle memory, an old routine from another life that feels as bitter as it does comfortable. He heads out early to give himself some cushion. The streets are empty but for bakers and baristas, the first hints of dawn tinging the sky a deep blue. When he turns a corner and the rink comes into view, the absence of his bag hanging from his shoulder is a phantom ache. 

The front doors are locked but the side one staff uses isn’t, the Zamboni driver already inside. Remus lets himself in, makes a cup of tea from the hot water dispenser they leave out when concessions are closed, plants himself on a bench, and waits. 

And waits. 

And waits. 

Remus has nearly nodded off when two pairs of shoes come bounding up to him. Well, one pair bounds. The other drags. 

“Hi, sorry we’re late.” You’re breathless and hauling a sullen-looking boy along behind you by the hand, but you manage a smile when Remus looks up at you. “I had to run over and get him out of bed. It’s good to meet you!”

You hold out your untethered hand. Remus might normally stand to take it, but he no longer feels like doing you the courtesy. Your grip is firm and warm. 

“You were supposed to be here at six,” he says. 

You wince. “I know. Sorry, Sirius is really not a morning person.” 

Remus thinks that he might put more stock into your apologies if you looked a tad more contrite. As it is, your countenance is almost cheery, a fizzy eagerness about you as you look between him and the ice like you can’t wait to get out on it. 

In stark contrast, the ill-tempered boy behind you seems not to have a clue where he is. He looks rumpled and disoriented, squinting in the rink’s fluorescent light. 

“Then why didn’t you pick another time?” Remus asks. 

He hadn’t realized he was still looking at Sirius, or that the other boy could talk, so it’s a surprise when he answers. “Wasn’t my bloody idea.” 

By the way you grin, Remus wonders if you’ve even heard the obvious bitterness in your partner’s tone, or whether it’s gone straight over your head. 

“I like the rink better early,” you explain. “No one else ever comes before the hockey practice starts at nine, and they’ll have just finished resurfacing the ice.” 

Begrudgingly, Remus nods. “I always preferred it about now, too.” 

He realizes immediately that his agreement was a mistake, because your smile grows into something far too brilliant for the early hour. Christ, what has he gotten himself into? There’s you, starry-eyed and effervescing all over the place, and your partner, who looks more inclined to fall asleep on your shoulder than put on his skates. 

And this is the pair skating duo Remus is supposed to take to the Olympics. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Watch that back foot!” Remus shouts across the ice.

Sirius doesn’t look happy about it, but he corrects the placement of his skate, transitioning smoothly into the next synced turn. 

“Good,” Remus murmurs to himself. 

Once Sirius got out on the ice and woke up a bit, he was good. He skates with the technical proficiency of someone who’s been in the sport since before they started primary school, and the intuitive artistry of someone who loves it. You’re much the same, though your virtuosity and obvious competence are consistently undercut by hesitation, the grace of your movements interrupted when you second-guess yourself. But these—technical prowess paired with devotion—are the basics of what makes a good figure skater. You’ll have to be flawless if you want to do well at the Olympics. 

And Remus has found many flaws. 

“No, no—shit!” Remus stands as you fall out of your jump again, catching yourself on your forearms. “You’re still under-rotating! Come on!” 

Sirius snarls a quick “Hey!” over his shoulder before turning his back on Remus, going to help you up. He speaks to you quietly, checking you over as you stand. Remus seethes. 

He has no clue why he’s been called out here to coach a pair. Remus doesn’t know pairs, has never been a part of one. He was a solo skater. And frankly, it makes him wary that what’s supposed to be the best skating pair in Britain has asked him, a former solo skater who’s been isolated from the figure skating community in general for the past two years, to coach them. But Remus does know figure skating. And he knows when skaters are making stupid mistakes behind their skill level. 

“What aren’t you understanding?” asks Remus as you skate back to the edge of the rink. He really wants to know. “It’s simple. You can do this.” He knows he could have. As easy as breathing, and he would kill to have the chance again. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” 

Sirius’ glare is sharp as knives. He steps off the ice before you can, positioning himself between you and Remus. Your lips purse with a knowing sort of apprehension. 

“Sirius…” 

“No, you don’t talk to her like that,” Sirius spits. “It was a tiny mistake.” 

Remus raises his eyebrows, incredulous. “I’m trying to help her! It was a giant mistake, with a simple fix. You ought to be telling her the same, unless you’re okay with your partner snapping her ankle weeks out from competition.” 

“None of that means you get to fucking yell at her! Who do you think you are?” 

“Okay—” 

“I’m her coach,” says Remus, voice rising, “and—”

“Then coach her! Maybe if you’d give some actual fucking feedback instead of just nitpicking—” 

“Okay!” Your shout cuts through the space, echoing in the empty rink and silencing the other two. “That’s enough.” 

You haul Sirius back by his shoulder. Your grip doesn’t look severe enough to move him, but he goes, stepping back to your side. His eyes never leave Remus’. 

Your own gaze jumps between both boys, that same spark he’d seen in you earlier burning with a different light. 

“Let’s call it for today,” you say firmly. “Okay? We’ll try again tomorrow.” 

Neither boy speaks, though Remus nods. It seems to be taking all of Sirius’ willpower to bite his tongue. He gets the impression it isn’t something he succeeds at often, so Remus isn’t ashamed to say that it brings him a perverse sort of joy to see it now. His tiny bit of smugness fizzles out, though, when your eyes land on him. There’s something desolate in your expression that’s a salient deviation from how you’d looked at him before. Remus has the sinking feeling that he’s disappointed you. It’s more distressing than he can account for. 

“We’ll be here on time tomorrow,” you say in that same steady tone. “And my jump, I’ll work on it.” 

Remus nods again. You return it, and when you turn to leave, you drag Sirius after you by his shirtsleeve, picking up your bags along your way. Remus’ mouth feels dry. His lips are chapped, his fingertips hurt from the cold, and the sight of your skates sinking into the rubbery floor makes his hip ache terribly. 

It’s only once you’re nearly out of earshot that he manages to mumble, “Thank you.”

[loonylupin2]

The eyes of the Moon and the Star

[daddiesdrarryy]

Remus: Right hand blue

James: This Twister game is so fun!

Regulus: Not that fun. Are you sure this is right, Remus? Potter is practically on top of me

Remus: Of course it is!

Sirius, whispers: Is it?

Remus: I haven’t used the spinner in half an hour

[ohyou-pretty-things]

artist: j000000

[itsriotmotherfuckers]

Remus John Lupin is a dorky nerd in tweed and cardigans who is only strong enough to carry books around, and lets everyone walk all over him, and cries when people go on discriminatory tangents about werewolves/queer people, and makes Sirius help him study, and folds his underwear/socks, and drowns in jumpers that are too big because he’s so skinny that he has to choose between them being long enough or tight enough, and he’s always cold, and he has back joint/back pain, and has a snort-laugh, and a little overbite you can only see when he smiles, and his clothes have elbow/knee patches, and he never gets angry because he’s so scared of being a monster