#sirius and remus at a concert

[lesbianthatyaps]

took wolfstar to see conan gray🫡

[lilywalkers]

sirius “this is going to ruin the tour” black

remus “what tour?” lupin

james “the world tour” potter

[17ratsinafleshsuit]

ANY MARAUDERS FANS GOING TO SEE HOZIER IN BOSTON ON JUNE 23RD?!??!!!!? I NEED TO FIND MY PEOPLEEEE😭😭😭

[7jaycee95]

-Ben Barnes: Where the light gets in tour, January 25th 2025.

[carolinelayne]

In 6th year, the Marauders interrupted the school day by having a rooftop rock concert, fully dressed up as the Beatles. This was, of course, in support of muggle rights.

It was the day Lily Evans decided James Potter wasn’t that bad.

[alltoounwellll]

how does one not think about r j lupin during the view between villages at the noah kahan concert?

…..asking for a friend

[enbysiriusblack]

some modern artists/bands the marauders would like:

lily- taylor swift

remus- raleigh ritchie

james- bears in trees

mary- tv girl

peter- NOAHFINNCE

sirius- royal sugar

marlene- VIAL

emmeline- d3vilishbri

dorcas- beabadobee

regulus- caroline shaw

[faun-writes]

Concert Black [Rewrite] Updated!

Chapter 1 - Casting Shadows on the Town

I would leave if only I could find a reason

I'm mean because I grew up in New England

I've got dreams but I can't make myself believe them

I'll spend the rest of my life with what could have been

And I will die in the house that I grew up in

⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡

Sirius once again finds himself staying out late, but maybe the universe is on his side just this one time.

[nettedtangible]

Lily would go to the grocery store and James would put on "Ain't no Sunshine" and sob profusely while performing an entire concert in his underwear into the spatula.

[nami501]

Remus referring to the other marauders as HIS boys 🖤✨

[moonstruckme]

hello! im not sure if you've done this before and if you have, i hope its ok to ask for more hehe but can i request rockstar poly marauders w a shy!reader and gets easily flustered when they show affection? thank u sm i really love all your poly marauders drabbles!!

Thank you for requesting angel <33

rockstar!marauders x shy!reader ♡ 1k words

The sound tech at this venue is nice. You liked her first for her pink hair and then for the easy way she motioned you over to help do the boys’ sound checks. You don’t think she needed the help; she only saw you standing off by herself and did a kind thing to make you feel less awkward. 

Now the boys are off in their dressing room, and you’re trailing contentedly behind her while she shows you how she sets up for shows. 

The bustle and ruckus of crews setting up before shows isn’t new to you. You’ve been with the boys since the beginning of their tour, but usually you stay out of the way, blending into walls or taking refuge in your boyfriends’ dressing room while they’re busy. You’ve never really gotten to know the actions the bustle and ruckus constitute. 

“Usually I help with lighting once I’m done with my own stuff,” the sound tech tells you. “It’s all programmed ahead of time, so really I’m just on standby in case something happens. Do the boys have a favorite color if I have to pick something?” 

You gnaw your lip, contemplative. “Sirius would probably like yellow, if you get the chance.” 

Her eyebrows shoot up. You know it’s not in the usual color palette of the boys’ shows. “Really?” 

“No.” You suck in a breath as a pair of arms wraps around your middle, releasing it when you realize it’s Sirius. “Not really. Minx, you know I hate yellow.” He smushes his face into your cheek. “Joke’s on you though, I look good in every color.” 

“Yellow certainly least,” James teases. He steps into your field of vision wearing his concert outfit. Jeans and a tight t-shirt just short enough to tease a sliver of abdomen. Of all the fans who will get to see him looking so handsome tonight, you’re glad you’re one of them. 

“Anyway,” he says, grinning, “we have a very important question for you both. No pressure.” 

“Well, some pressure,” Sirius says. 

You look at your sound tech friend. Like most crew, she’s largely unaffected by the rockstars currently sharing in casual repartee in front of her. Her eyes don’t appear to dip to James’ stomach or trace the myriad of tattoos you know are showing through Sirius’ sheer top. If anything, she looks only faintly amused by the way the band’s lead singer is mushing tiny, soft kisses into the skin by your ear. Your cheeks warm. 

“What’s the question?” you ask, dreading the reply. 

Sirius turns you in his arms, taking you by the shoulders and levelling you with a very serious look. “What is the hottest instrument for someone to play?” 

Your sound tech friend barks a laugh. “Bass,” she says. “No question.” 

James’ eyebrows fly up, his expression one of utter disbelief, but Sirius only says swiftly, “Wrong. You know what it is, don’t you, gorgeous?” 

Your shoulders gravitate upwards at the moniker. “You can’t ask me to pick between you.” 

“Don’t think of it as picking between us,” he says. “Just, which is the hottest? Objectively.” 

“I can’t be objective,” you plead. 

“Does anyone know what time it is? I can’t seem to find a clock in this whole place.” You turn your head as Remus emerges from their dressing room, blowing smoke from the corner of his mouth. “Oh.” He blinks when he sees you, waving to dispel the smog. “Sorry, dovey. Where’ve you been?” 

“I’ve been here,” you say, voice softening. Sirius makes a quiet sound and hugs you again. 

“You’re cute,” he murmurs, low enough that only you can hear. Your face flames. 

“It’s quarter ‘til,” the sound tech offers helpfully. 

Remus turns to her with a smile he’ll never understand the power of. “Thank you.” 

“We’re conducting a poll on which instrument is the hottest,” James informs him. He jerks his thumb toward the sound tech. “She says bass.” 

Remus’ grin turns smug. “Quite right. What’s your pick, dove?” 

You’re mute and melting, hot enough by now that you wish you could evaporate into steam and float away through the vents. 

“She won’t say,” Sirius sighs dramatically, breath warm against your cheek. 

“Oh.” Remus seems to wisen to your plight. “It’s not really playing fair, is it? She can hardly be objective.” 

“Right,” you agree quickly. 

“But angel,” says James, bewildered, “guitar is classic.” 

“I’ll tell you what’s not fair,” Sirius argues. “For anyone to say anything other than the front man! We’re chosen for our hotness!” 

“Well, that’s not strictly true, is it?” 

“Yeah?” Sirius has that shit-eating grin, like he’s winding James up in anticipation of hauling him into a broom closet. You’re only glad it’s not directed at you. “You got something to say, Potter?”

“Sorry,” Remus apologizes to your sound tech friend on their behalf, touching a hand to Sirius’ back to guide you both towards the dressing room. James follows. 

“You’re good,” she laughs. “Nice to meet you, y/n.” 

“You too,” you say, cringing at the unintentional softness of your own voice. 

“Who was that?” Sirius asks as James closes the door to their dressing room behind you. “Have you made a new friend?” 

You groan, flopping down onto the posh-looking, uncomfortable couch and covering your face with your hands. “I was trying to.” 

“It looked like it was going well,” James says. “Maybe you can hang out with her again while we’re onstage.” 

“I can’t now,” you mumble between your palms. 

“Why not?” 

“Because,” says Remus, as he sits beside your head and begins smoothing your baby hairs with his fingers, “we’ve embarrassed her.” You let your hands slip down enough to see him, and he smiles at you. “I don’t think she’ll hold it against you, dovey. She seemed nice.” 

“You would think so.” Sirius plucks the cigarette from between Remus’ fingers, taking a drag before it can burn out. “She picked your instrument.” 

Remus shrugs, smug again. “That helps.” 

Sirius squints at him spitefully. He sits next to your knees where they’re flung over the arm of the couch. “Don’t let us spoil your new friend for you,” he says, sincerely. “She loves you already, I can tell. You’re perfect.” 

“You’re biased,” you counter, face heating again. 

Sirius grins like he can tell and reaches down to tug you upwards. He grasps you with a roughness for which he has no follow through, kissing you sweetly with his fingers bunched in your jacket.

“Wrong,” he says, lips moving against yours. “I know how to be objective.”

[dismalflo]

night life

poly!marauders x reader who has just got home from a concert ✩ 751 words

cw: fluff, thats all this is, established relationship.

✩send me drabble requests✩

The house is silent as you step inside, so you tread lightly, shedding your shoes and coat. You leave your keys in the dish by the door and move further into the home. A soft, dim light casts a gentle glow over the living room, where a lone figure sits on the sofa—Sirius.

He turns to you, a smile curling at his lips, the light softening his features in a way that makes him look almost otherworldly.

"Hi," you say shyly, frozen in place for a moment, struck by the thought that he’s waited up for you.

"Hi, poppet," he coos warmly, arms outstretched. You don’t hesitate, quickly crossing the room to settle on his lap. His lips brush against your forehead in a gentle kiss. "How was it?"

"It was amazing!" you respond, your voice practically glowing with excitement. "My ears are still ringing."

Sirius chuckles softly, the sound rich with affection as he watches you, amused by how genuinely thrilled you are while most people would be complaining.

“They were so impressive, Siri. You would’ve loved it,” you continue, “The guy on guitar was—”

But you're cut off as the heavy sound of footsteps echoes down the stairs. James appears, rumpled and leaning over the banister, his hair messy. The sudden realization of how late it is, and that you might have woken both him and Remus, makes a sharp tug of guilt in your chest. Both of them are known to turn in early, much earlier than you or Sirius.

James seems to catch the shift in your expression—or perhaps he can read your thoughts—because he offers a reassuring grin. “We’re both awake,” he says with a shrug. “Just wondering if you two are coming to bed.”

You nod fervently, enthusiasm still dripping from you.

“Anything for you, Prongs,” Sirius chimes in with a playful smirk. “Right, doll?” He gently shifts you off his lap and nudges you in James’ direction, then turns to flick off the lights and make sure everything’s locked up.

James greets you with a soft kiss, his lips warm and comforting, before giving your bum a light, playful pat to coax you forward. “Lead the way,” he says, gesturing toward the bedroom upstairs.

You lead up the stairs, the sound of your feet padding softly against the wooden steps. The quiet is only interrupted by the faint rustling of Sirius locking the door behind you and the gentle footsteps of James following closely behind.

When you reach the bedroom, the lamp casts a soft, golden glow across the room. Remus is already in bed, his head resting on the pillow, his eyes bright with the unmistakable warmth that spreads across his face when he sees you. He stretches slightly, the covers falling down to reveal the soft, worn-in t-shirt he’s wearing, and he smiles, eyes half-lidded with contentment.

“There you are,” he murmurs, his voice low and inviting.

You smile, feeling the warmth of Remus’s gaze wrap around you like a comforting blanket. You change quickly, eager to join him in bed. You walk towards the bed, kicking off your socks as you settle beside him.

"Well, I suppose I should apologize for keeping you all up," you tease, glancing between the three of them as you curl into Remus's side, his arm immediately coming around you, a secure, familiar weight. "The show went longer than I thought it would."

Sirius slips in beside you, his movements fluid, and a mischievous grin tugs at his lips. “No need for apologies, doll,” he murmurs, his fingers lightly brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “We don’t mind one bit.” His hand finds yours, his touch warm and grounding.

James follows suit, carefully clambering in next to Sirius, and with a quick motion, he hooks a leg over his boyfriend’s, pulling the duvet up to cover everyone. His quiet, thoughtful gesture sends a wave of warmth through you.

You settle into the cozy pile of warmth and love, your head resting on Remus’s chest, the rhythmic sound of his heartbeat a lullaby. The room is quiet except for the soft rustling of the sheets and the occasional sigh from one of them. Sirius’s hand lightly traces patterns on your wrist, while James nuzzles into his side, and Remus’s fingers play gently with your hair.

You're on the edge of sleep when you hear a voice, “I love you.” it's said softly and you can't discern who spoke. But that doesn't matter.

[jam3spott3r]

james: isn't it weird that we pay money to see other people?

peter: plane tickets?

sirius: concert tickets?

remus: prostitution?

james, holding his broken frames: glasses.

[7jaycee95]

Omg the Ben Barnes concert was so worth it

[fairytaleendingss]

Room for One More?

Chapter 2

Summary: Your rivalry with Remus continues as you spend a night out with his friends at Sirius’ concert.

CW: Alcohol Consumption, mentions of vomit (briefly), references to sex.

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x reader

Chapter 1

—

A few days later and you were finally settling into your new home. And as far as roommates go, the boys were pretty good ones.

James was usually out early in the morning at the gym or Rugby training and he’d often return with coffees for everyone. Sirius was a natural born entertainer and always had a joke or a silly anecdote to amuse you with when you returned home from work.

It was just Remus that hadn’t warmed up to you, however, you had no idea why. You’d done everything you could think of to win him over. You cleaned up the kitchen for him before he got home from his lectures, you left extra for him when cooking dinner, you even offered to do his laundry when he was too busy studying for upcoming exams. But still, nothing. No matter what you did, you were greeted with a cold disinterest and one word answers.

By the time the weekend rolled around, you were exhausted, both from him and your long week at work. You were hugely looking forward to Sirius’ show. You figured it’d be the perfect way to unwind.

—

You were squashed into a booth next to James and a girl named Dorcas, twirling your straw in your hand.

The bar was full, thick with energy and cigarette smoke. It was dimly lit, some dive down a back alley. Apparently Sirius and his band played here every Saturday night.

��So y/n! Mary tells me you want to be a writer!” Lily called across the table, barely audible over the clattering of glasses and loud talking that filled the room

“Yeah, it’s something I’m working towards,” you replied. “Although I’ve been working on my novel for a couple of years now but it’s still not quite there yet.”

“Oh cool!” Peter chimed in. He was sitting beside his girlfriend Sybil, a hand around hers under the table. They looked positively smitten with each other. It reminded you of how glaringly single you were.

“What’s your book about?” Dorcas asked.

You sighed. “I guess you could call it a fantasy.”

“Oh is it one of those ones about wizards and magic and stuff?” James pondered enthusiastically.

“I mean, kind of? Not really.” You replied.

“Oh good,” Dorcas mused. “I don’t really like those kinds of stories. I’ve always found them to be a bit childish. I mean, the idea of wizards living amongst us? it’s a bit absurd if you ask me.”

You giggled. “Yes well, I’d say mine is more of a high fantasy. Anyway, enough about me. What do you all do for work?”

You took a sip of your drink.

“Well, I’m a primary school teacher.” Lily offered.

“Oh wow. And how do enjoy that?”

She giggled, her dimples appearing as she did. You had to admit, she was stunningly beautiful, with long auburn hair and astonishing sea-foam eyes. You understood why James had been pining after her for so long.

“I love it,” she responded. “It’s wonderful knowing you’re able to shape a young person’s life.”

“That sounds really rewarding,” you responded.

“It is,” she smiled. “But it’s far from impressive compared to what some of the others do. I mean, Dorcas here is a lawyer and Remus is studying to be a doctor!”

Eyes fell on Remus and you watched as he recoiled slightly under the attention.

As the conversation drew on, you learned that Peter was a Banker, Sybil read tarot cards for a living and Dorcas’ girlfriend Marlene played lead guitar in Sirius’ band.

“Just wait until you see her,” Mary exclaimed. “She’s incredible.”

“I’m looking forward to it!” You replied. You took another sip of your drink and realised you’d finished your glass. Upon looking around the table you saw that the others were in a similar position.

“Looks like I’m in need of a refill. Next round is on me guys!”

There was a slew of cheers from the group as you slid out of the booth and made your way towards the bar. You placed your order and then took a seat on a stool as you waited for the drinks to be made.

You were scrolling through instagram when you felt a presence beside you. Looking up, your heart sank slightly when you noticed it was Remus.

“I thought you could use some help carrying everything,” he muttered, taking a seat beside you.

“Thanks but I think I’ll be okay.”

“Yeah well, I could use some space. The table was getting a little crowded.”

Your eyes raked over his figure, you saw the was he was nervously fiddling with his hands. It dawned on you that maybe the bar scene wasn’t really his thing so much as it was his friends’. He seemed to be a little overwhelmed.

“Okay,” you relented.

A few drinks were placed on a tray in front of you, and Remus reached out to grab his, taking a long sip. Your eyebrows raised.

“You’re drinking straight whisky? That’s pretty hardcore.”

“It’s referred to as a whisky neat,” he responded matter-of-factly (as if you hadn’t been the one to order it for him). “And it really isn’t that bad. I have a pretty high alcohol tolerance. Why? What did you order.”

“A gin and tonic.”

“Exactly my point.”

Your eyes narrowed as you looked up at him. You could help but scoff.

“Are you implying that I can’t hold my alcohol?”

Remus shrugged, taking another sip. “I’m just saying that some people have a higher tolerance is all.”

A mix of irritation and downright anger began to build in your gut. You’d had enough of him. His coldness towards you, his constant condescending remarks. Fuck it, you thought, I’m done being nice. If he wanted to start something, then so be it.

“Fine,” you challenged. “If you’re so sure about that, £20 says that I can out-drink you tonight.”

He turned to face you, a brow quirked questioningly.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

You rolled your eyes. “Just shake on it, Remus.”

“Fine. It’s your funeral.”

You shook hands. Then you turned to the bartender.

“Excuse me, I’d like to change my order. Could I get a whisky, neat?”

—

The band came on around 10pm and the crowd cheered wildly.

Sirius was the first to enter, clad in black and leather, looking like a true rockstar.

His eyes twinkled beneath the stage lights. Even on the narrow bar stage, he managed to look ethereal.

“How’s everyone doing tonight?”

The crowd roared once more, you among them.

“That’s good! We’re Snakes and Lions and we have a few songs to play for you. Is that alright?”

The crowed cheered again.

As the first notes of the song trickled through the room, you couldn’t help but stare up at Sirius. His long flowing hair, the tattoos that peaked out from under his black tank top, the way his eyeliner brought out the grey of his eyes.

A glance to Remus beside you, told you he was feeling the same way. He was staring up at Sirius like he was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. And you couldn’t blame him.

Still, you felt and odd pang of jealously shoot through your gut.

You decided to push it down, instead venturing to the bar for another drink.

As the set drew on, you could feel yourself beginning to sway, not only from the music but also the alcohol in your blood.

The room began to blur in a dizzying haze and you found yourself leaning into James who stood beside you, for support.

You continued to watch Sirius perform, entranced by the way he moved around the stage, his voice baring into your very soul.

At one point, when he he introduced the band (Barty on drums, Marlene on lead guitar, Evan on rhythm guitar and his little brother Regulus on bass), he sent you a wink and you felt your heart leap in your chest. You felt like you were watching a celebrity.

Still, amidst the music, your mind continued to wander to Remus. Your bet had carried on and you continued to down drink after drink out of sheer spite.

You were determined to beat him. Determined to prove that you could hold your own, that there was a spot for you in his home, whether he liked it or not.

By the time the band finished playing, you were far past the point of no return.

—

There was a light on somewhere. It was too bright, shining directly into your eyes. You groaned and rolled over, sinking in to your mattress. You tried to go back to sleep but you couldn’t. You needed to get up and turn the light off.

As you blinked your eyes open, you realised the light wasn’t in fact coming from the ceiling but from a window.

That’s odd, you thought, I don’t remember there being a window there.

The room was blurry as you looked around. It was clearly morning, that much you could tell, and there was a throbbing pain in your head. Last night was definitely a mistake.

It was then that your gaze fell on the football paraphernalia that sat on the dresser and the framed jersey that hung above it.

You shot upwards like a bullet, your eyes widening as you glanced around the space.

This wasn’t your room. It was James'.

You gasped loudly as you looked down at yourself. Fuck! You were in your underwear.

You frantically looked around the space, searching for anything you could use to cover up. There was a black t-shirt thrown over a chair in the corner.

A sniff told you it was clean and you hastily threw it on, not caring right then that it wasn’t yours.

It didn’t cover much but it’d have to do for now.

It was at that moment the door swung open. You froze, wide eyed like a deer caught in the headlights.

James just looked you up and down for a moment, balancing a cup of coffee in each hand.

“Oh good. You’re up.”

“W-what happened last night?” You blurted out in a panic.

“You don’t remember?” The boy queried, moving to place the coffees down on the bedside table.

You shook your head.

“We didn’t… ah? You know?”

“Oh no! Nothing like that! We didn’t sleep together if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through your hair in relief.

“Oh. Okay. Good.”

James just smirked. “Oh no, it’s much more embarrassing than that.”

You looked up at him nervously, feeling your cheeks grow hot. “Shit. What did I do?”

James moved to stand in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed, muscles in his biceps flexing as he did.

“Well, you stumbled into my room at 2:30 in the morning complaining you were bored and wanted to hang out.”

You grimaced.

“Then you collapsed in my bed and refused to leave. Which I didn’t mind, by the way. But then you decided that it was too hot and insisted on taking your clothes off. I barely stopped you from getting completely naked. You were on a mission.”

You groaned as he chuckled at the story.

“James, I’m so sorry.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. We’ve all been there.”

“What? Mostly naked in our roommate's bed?”

He snorted. “Yeah sure. Something like that.”

He gestured towards the coffee that sat on the bedside table and you took a sip, letting the warm drink sooth your aching throat.

“I’m sure you have a hell of a hangover,” he sympathised. “Why don’t you finish your coffee and then go and have a shower while I whip up some breakfast.”

You smiled up at him gently. “James, you don’t have to-“

“Stop apologising,” he cut you off. “I’m happy to. Besides, what are roommates for if not to make you meals?”

—

It was a while before you re-emerged, having showered and now wearing clothes that were your own. You weren’t bothered to dry your hair though. You resigned to let it drip down your back.

You trudged into the living area to see that the rest of the boys had beaten you there.

James was standing in the kitchen cooking what smelt suspiciously (and deliciously) like bacon.

Sirius was lounging on the sofa, half watching a random action movie that was playing on the TV, set to low volume.

You assumed that choice was made for the benefit of Remus who looked a wreck. He was sitting at the dining table, face down with his head resting on his arms.

An evil sense of satisfaction washed over you when you realised that he was nursing a hangover just as bad as your own.

“Well!” You made sure to exclaim loudly, smacking your hands down hard on the table as you took a seat across from Remus.

He flinched and groaned as he sat up, sending you an irritable look.

“Last night was fun.”

Sirius chuckled from his across the room. “For some of us more so than others.”

“Y/n definitely had fun,” James teased as he approached the table, placing a plate of bacon and eggs before you. You slapped him playfully on the arm as he walked away.

You glanced around the room as you began to eat, your brows furrowing when you noticed something odd out of the window.

“Guys, why’s the pot plant out on the balcony?”

“I’m airing it out,” Sirius said absent-mindedly. “Remus threw up in it last night.”

A delighted smirk overtook your features. “Did he now?”

The boy just groaned, thumping his head back down onto the table.

“Here mate,” James stated, placing a plate of food down beside his head. “Eat something, it’ll make you feel better.”

You had to admit, you did feel better after some food. And James was a bloody good cook.

Then, suddenly an idea flitted through your mind.

“Did anyone keep a copy of the tab from last night?”

“Yeah I’ve got it in my wallet, why?” James confirmed.

“Could I see it please?”

He placed the receipt in front of you on the table and you began to add up the drinks that you remembered yourself and Remus ordering.

“Aha!” You shouted after a moment, jumping up and walking around the table. Remus looked up at you, displeased.

“I beat you! Pay up!”

“What’s this?” Sirius questioned curiously.

“Remus bet me £20 that he could out drink me and I proved him wrong!” You exclaimed.

“Hey, don’t put this on me,” Remus muttered. “It was her idea.”

“It looks like you’ve been a bad influence on our poor Remus,” James teased.

“Yeah, he never usually drinks that much,” Sirius added.

You looked at him suspiciously. “Huh? Really? That was big game you talked last night.”

“Remus is all talk,” Sirius joked. “Deep down he’s really just a little softy.”

“Fuck off, all of you,” the boy groaned.

“Not until I get my £20!”

James barked out a laugh.

“Come on buddy,” he stated in Remus’ direction. “You heard the girl, pay up!”

—

Taglist:

@hisparentsgallerryy

@navs-bhat

@shushbruv

[laufeysvalentine]

enough to let you go, remus lupin

so for once in my life, let me get what i want

remus lupin x fem!reader | masterlist

summary ༄ remus x fem!reader -- something's up with remus, but he won't tell you what.

reader wears a skirt and has a job where they could be making more money if they moved?? (idk just go with it 😭😭)

word count ༄ 4.1k

nora’s notes ༄ trying out a different writing style again this time haha, played a lottt more w themes which was fun but i think the pacing was off bc of that. if you have any feedback lmk!

“Hello, my love,” Lily coos at her son as she trots into the dining room, whisking him from his high chair. “Hello to you, too, darling.” 

“G’morning, Lily.” You accept her kiss on your cheek, turning to watch her flip a pancake on the stove. Though you’ve just entered uninvited and chosen to linger awkwardly in their kitchen doorway, at the Potters, you’re always welcome. At least, that’s what they always tell you. And with your and your boyfriend’s flat so close to them–four floors down and five doors over, as you’ve memorized–you end up popping in a lot. 

“So? What’s going on with you today? Are you and the boyfriend going to be around?” Flop. Another pancake lands on the plate, followed by a neat pat of butter and a pool of maple syrup. 

“Mmm, nothing much. We’ll be here. I have some work to be done, as always,” you sigh, leaning your elbows onto the counter. It’s cluttered with papers and such, but you make room. You always do. 

“Well, Harry’s got a playdate at four. It’s a kids’ concert at the park, but you’re welcome to come. I think Sirius might, though I haven’t a clue what he’ll do there.” She shrugs, Harry on one hip. 

“That would be lovely. I’ll have to see.” You acknowledge her with a hum, grabbing one of the open magazines on their table and flipping through it. Their house is always so lovely, smelling of baking and buttermilk yellow, with kids’ toys littered across the floor and photos of all kinds strung up on the walls. Of just James and Lily from their Hogwarts days, in muggle photo booths with lipstick smudged all over his face, of your whole group, crammed into one shot and frozen. This is your favorite shot: Remus’ arm has found its way to your shoulders, your face is kiss-happy, and you’re both grinning at the camera like he’d just proposed. And a shot of the Potters’ engagement, of course. You can see the tears glossing over James’ eyes, the excitement that rouges Lily’s sleek face, then her white dress, her ring, her altar. 

“Tea?” She asks, back still turned toward the stove. 

“Yes, please.” You watch her pour some water–already boiling, like she knew. 

She passes a mug to you, dark gray. “Careful. It’s still hot.” 

Before you get the chance to thank her, a voice booms in from the doorway. “Are those my wife’s famous pancakes I smell?” 

Harry melts into squeals, grabbing for his father and squirming his mother’s arms. Sure enough, James comes swooping in, flying his son above his head over to you. “Ah. Hello, fourth member of the Potter household.” 

“Oh, did I get the job?” you quip, sitting back into one of the counter’s tall stools. “When do I start?” 

“Right now.” He drops Harry into your lap, warm and heavy and smelling like baby. “Starting rank is babysitting. You’ll move up as you go along.” 

You roll your eyes, turning your attention to the youngest Potter, who stares at you with wide eyes, one small hand moving to tug at your hair. “Harold. Ouch.” 

“So, Y/N.” One of James' hands reaches up towards his head, scratching at his mass of curls. “Have you noticed anything off with Moony lately?” 

“No,” you say slowly, one hand moving towards your cup of tea. You catalog your interactions with your boyfriend in the past 24 hours–two toothbrushes on the counter, breakfast tumbling out of bed, mumbles, half-late for work, short and sweet lunch call, good evening welcome home hi i love you kiss, two plates on the table, how he tastes of smoke and mint after brushing his teeth. Everything seemed in place to you. “Should I have noticed something?” 

He looks at you. Stays there for a solid few seconds. Then, slowly, crawling, “No. I suppose not.” 

Steam pushes between your fingers, tightening in coils through the air. You frown. It almost hurts. “Okay.” 

“Okay,” he repeats, looking away to saunter towards his wife. His arms wrap firmly around her waist; she lets out a small, surprised laugh as he whisks her into the air. Harry drops your hair and turns towards his parents, clapping with vigor. 

Your fingers knot their way into Harry’s shirt–a burnt mustard shifting to a pale yellow in the morning sun. Your other hand traces the rim of your cup. Lily was right, it’s practically boiling still, it’s scalding to touch. The more you do it, the more you’re sure all of your nerves have burned off. 

“Lily?” Your voice emerges like honey. Low, smooth. Achingly slow. Transparent. Perhaps too much so. 

She perks her head up from where it lay on her husband’s chest. “Yes, darling?” 

“I should go,” you say after a few seconds trip on the distance between you and them. You lift Harry from your lap and walk him over to his parents. “I think Remus is waiting for me.” 

“Okay,” she agrees, arms opening to hold her baby. “I’ll see you later?” 

You nod, step back. “I’ll see.” 

James looks at you again. You look back. “Bye, Y/N.” 

“Bye, Potter. Your pancakes are burning.” You point behind him, where smoke is escaping from the pan, something hissing and sputtering. 

“Shit.” 

“James!” 

“Sorry.” 

—

When the door to your apartment creaks open, you half-expect your boyfriend to be lying on the floor in a pool of blood, with how weird James was acting. Nope. Everything’s in place. Your couch, leather and loveworn with years of you and Remus laying intertwined and shifting and giggling, sits in the corner. The rug, that wildflower blue, is where it always is. The TV, the mantel. You like your living room, but the urge to add pictures just like Lily did, grabs you. 

“Remus?” You swallow, checking your clock. It’s already half past ten, he’s usually up by now. You know he had a rough night last night, still sleeping off the full moon a few days earlier, all aches. The moon hadn’t been good, but were they ever? You’d skipped work to take care of him, to try and massage out those clicks in his bones, to stop the aching that you knew lived in his knees and hips and chest cavity, but maybe it hadn’t been enough. 

“Mmm?” There it is. Sleep is still coating his voice, croaky as he calls out to you. “Where are you, dove?” 

“Sorry, I didn’t wake you, did I?” You lower your voice, tossing your shoes to the side and strolling towards your shared bedroom. “I’m back from Lily’s. Want to go out tonight? Harry’s got something at the park, but I have a feeling Sirius will want to go out after.” 

Your hands lodge themselves on your hips. He’s lying on the bed, looking absolutely devourable, as always. His eyes are rimmed with exhaustion, his shirt has slipped off somewhere around the room, his face is framed by his messy hair. And he’s looking up at you with those sweet, sweet eyes, turning his lips upwards as you approach him. 

“You’ll be the death of me,” you decide, crawling on top of him and lying onto his chest so your nose is snug against his neck, breathing him in. Your hands find their way to his hair, intertwine–no, tangle–you two together. “You smell good.” 

You can feel his lips press to the part of your head, the warmth of his breath as he exhales. “You smell like baby powder and James Potter.” 

“Accurate,” comes your response, a loose hum vibrating through your throat. He shivers, you can feel it run through his body. Skin against skin against skin. “Can we just stay like this forever?” 

“But how else will we attend Harry’s childrens’ music concert tonight?” He teases lightly. You smile at that, burrowing deeper into the space between his shoulder and neck. 

He rubs your back with that same lightness, fleetingly, before grabbing the pack of cigarettes that resides on his bedside table and lighting one above your head. You watch the smoke cloud his face, thickening in perpetual rings. He looks different from this angle, shrouded. 

Your hand reaches out to touch a puff of gray. It swirls out of reach before you can make contact. 

—

“Watch Harry one second, please? I have to find James.” Lily walks towards your picnic blanket, where your head’s tilted onto Remus’ shoulder, the two of you faced towards the stage. You don’t really want to be here longer than you have to, since the bands really are for little kids and you look out of place here, with no children to show off and giggle and run in circles around you like all the others here. But James went to look for Sirius, whose arrival will allow you to go to your next destination, the bar–and, more than that, you absolutely adore your godson. 

“Of course!” You straighten, opening your arms wide to hold Harry, who grins when he sees you. “Hi, Harold.” 

He “stands” on your lap, facing you as you support his endeavors with two firm hands around his hips. It’s like he’s gotten five pounds heavier since this morning, and his grip on your hair has gotten ten times as strong, tugging and tugging. You don’t mind, though. Especially when he laughs in toothless spurts, absolutely adorable and the sweetest baby you’ve ever seen. 

“Aren’t babies the absolute best?” You sigh with a melt, tipping back onto Remus and letting Harry sit propped on your lap. “He’s the cutest one I’ve ever seen.” 

But your boyfriend’s just looking at you, the hazel of his eyes drooping in the fading sunlight. “Whatever you say, dove.” 

Then, without warning, Harry lurches onto his back, brown eyes going wide in surprise as he looks up at you. 

“Ouchie. Did that hurt?” You swipe your thumb across his small, baby-haired forehead and readjust him so he’s more secure. “You’re okay, lovie. I promise.” 

He giggles it off, and something deep inside of you swells. You want a baby so, so badly. A little Remus, maybe, to take to terrible kiddie concerts and smile at you so sweetly. 

Remus’ hand slips behind your head, massaging your scalp as you babble to Harry, indulging in his small squeals of delight when you do something funny. You’ve just begun to sing along with Wheels on the Bus when someone bumps right into your back. Someone being a little girl, probably only a year older than Harry, sobs leaving her that are much too big for her small frame. You pass the baby to Remus, turning to give her your attention. 

“Oh no,” you murmur, craning your neck for a look around for her parents. “Are you okay, darling?” 

Your only answer is another sob. Tentatively, you reach out for her, one palm coming up to rub her back in small circles. Sure, you have no clue who she is, but you can’t just let her weep on the grass, alone. 

“Where’s your mum?” You ask, before mentally scolding yourself. Of course she doesn’t know, otherwise she would’ve found her by now. “We’ll help you find her, hm?” 

You stand, and the girl, at ease with your kindness, clings to one of your legs, grasping at your hands. Taking the cue, you hoist her up and help her look around for whoever she’s with. The contact seems to be helping, so you trace a pattern on her back, trying to help her calm down. 

“Jenny? Jenny!” Someone yells, and an exact depiction of the girl in thirty years barrels through the lawn. “Oh, my poor baby!” 

They’re reaching for each other, so you pass the girl to her mother and step back, letting them reunite. 

“So sorry if I overstepped, I just heard her crying and couldn’t leave her there.” You flash a small smile at the woman, who grins at you, all tooth and sparkle. 

“No, no, thank you so much! She just keeps running off from me.” She smiles at her daughter, who rests her head on her shoulder. “I’m surprised you got her to stop crying, she usually won’t stop once she starts. You’ve got a kid here? You’re good with children, I’m sure.” 

You beam at the compliment, eyes flitting to Remus and Harry, who are watching you from their picnic blanket. A sudden nervousness clenches you, and you just bite your lip, murmur something you won’t remember later, smile at the girl and her mother. 

She compliments you again, thanks you. You just smile back, my pleasure. Harry’s babbles distract you from your goodbye, so you turn and squat back down to give him a kiss on the head. His hair is down-soft, smelling like baby powder. You plant one on your boyfriend’s cheek too, right on one of his pretty scars, just because. You’re so in love with him, then, and how he smells like campfire and looks up at you with a kindness you’d never thought you’d be lucky enough to find in your life. He looks twisted, so you try to smooth him out with another kiss. 

And another for Harry, one more for Remus. You’re almost at four each when Lily comes back and steals away her baby. Five for Remus. One for you. 

—

“Have you seen Y/N?” Remus slides into the booth next to James, who’s watching a very curly-haired, very drunk Sirius pushed all the way in. You’d gone off to fetch yourself another drink while he’d gone to the bathroom, but when he returned to the floor, you were gone. 

“Think she’s over there with Lily,” James says, gesturing to somewhere to his right. When he looks over, you’re there, frosted glass cupped between palms. There’s a guy standing next to you, forearms against the counter and pretty eyes framed by jealousy-inducing lashes, much too close for Remus’ taste, but you’re too tipsy to register it. He’s got a silver watch on his left wrist, smooth and slippery between your fingers. You giggle as he hands it to you, waves something off and leans in closer. He looks like an asshole, your boyfriend decides. A complete and utter asshole. 

Remus stands just as you look around the bar, trying to find him. Your eyes are sparkling. You hold up the watch to show him, wobbling as you turn. The guy–that stupid, stupid guy with stupid, stupid eyes–is asking you a question, but you’re only half-paying attention, thank Merlin. He walks as quickly as he can towards you. Where you’re tucked into the bar, he can just hear the boom of the guy’s voice. 

“What do you do for work?” He asks, swirling a cup in his hand. His voice is throaty, deep. At your murmured answer, his brow tightens. “What? Then why are you here?” 

You twirl around, letting your skirt flounce. Where’s Remus? “Mmm, I dunno.” 

“You could be making a lot more money,” that throatiness continues. “If you traveled. You could do so much more. Be so much more.” 

“I like things here,” you respond, stilling to lean against the counter. words sloshing together. “I like my friends and my home and my boyfriend. I love my boyfriend. I couldn’t ever leave him.” 

“Your what?” He repeats. He jolts into a stand, glances around. “You have a boyfriend?” 

“She does.” Remus finally reaches you. His voice is taut. One hand clasps onto your elbow. The other slips to your hip. Squeezes. “Ready, dove?” 

As soon as you feel his touch, you slump backwards, eyes closing as your cheek slips onto the softness of his sweater. “Of course, Remmy. We going now?” 

He shakes his head before realizing you can’t see him. “No, let’s just get back to the table. Lily’s there.” 

“Lily?” You perk your head up like an excited toddler, searching through the dark for the redhead. “Let’s go. Bye bye, Jack.” 

Jack. Asshole name. Asshole. Remus doesn’t like the ugly thing that paws at his heart. You could do so much more. Jack waves, or something. You wave back and let Remus guide you to the table. 

“You okay, baby?” You ask, your fingers slowly slipping into his. You trail your gaze upward, your pretty eyes on his face so you can watch him nod. “You smell like smoke.” 

“That so?” He murmurs, letting you slide into the seat next to the other Marauders. 

Sirius is looking just as drunk as he did ten minutes ago but much less sleepy, to his credit. He bobbles his head up and down, eyes on you. “Again, Moony?” 

Your head tilts. You look like a begging puppy. “Again what?” 

Your boyfriend swallows. You press your finger to his Adam’s apple. He swallows again. You giggle as it bobs, feeling the sensation on your skin. 

He doesn’t giggle with you, you don’t mind. His eyes are pretty tonight. They’re shiny. Glittery. 

“Sirius,” comes James’ voice. More serious than you’ve ever heard him be with his best friend. “Don’t you think you did enough last time you drank?” 

“What happened last time?” You ask, looking up at the table. Ever curious, you are. 

The boy sighs, puts his head down on the table. “I don’t really remember. Something with Moony and yo–” 

“Sirius,” James says again. His voice almost echoes. 

“Oh.” Some kind of realization seizes him. “Sorry, Lupin.” 

He doesn’t receive a response. Those are tears, you realize. Glossing up his eyes. All of a sudden, it feels as though someone’s punched you in the gut. Your hand reaches for Remus. He lets you touch him, but you don’t feel his fingers braiding through yours. You take it back, tuck it under your chin. 

“Don’t smoke in here,” you mumble suddenly, to no one in particular. “Don’t do it.” 

“What’s that, darling?” Lily swoops her head next to yours. The alcohol’s effects are starting to rub off. Maybe she thinks you can’t see the glances she’s making to James. 

“I want to go home,” You say finally. 

Remus stands before you can elaborate even a word more, grabbing his coat and yours from the backs of James’ chair. 

“Goodbye, lovely,” Lily says to you as you trail behind Remus. Her husband is saying something to Sirius. You can’t tell what. 

Your apartment isn’t far from this bar, that’s why you chose it in the first place. The starlight is just beginning to lessen, midnight shifting into something else. Clouds, miserably gray, cling to the awakening sky. It must be morning. Soon? 

You walk the first block in silence, shivering, as you watch Remus so clearly hurt. His strides are impossibly long, rigid, each breath of his comes out half-torn, and he’s blinking so much more than any normal human should be. You’ve spent years memorizing the planes of his back. You can tell when he’s tense, shoulders folding in on himself, only you can’t tell why. 

“I-I’m sorry,” you try, quickening your pace to match his. “I never should’ve spoken with that guy, he just had a nice watch. I don’t–I don’t remember how we got talking.” 

“Y/N, don’t apologize. Seriously, that’s the last thing I want you to do,” he says, stopping to turn to you. “It’s not… it wasn’t that, I swear.” 

You don’t like the way your name touches his tongue–like mulch, something falling to the floor. It’s unlike him. 

“What is it, then?” You ask, eyes nonjudgmental. “Tell me.” 

Your heart skips a beat, then, “nothing.” 

“It’s not nothing,” you argue, resuming your walk. “You can talk to me about anything, Rem. You know it.” 

“When we get home,” he offers, and you take it. You’re nearly there, anyway, just a few more doors and you’ll be in the warmth. Your feet shuffle on the sidewalk as you walk, almost nipping his heels.

The lobby, as predicted, is warm, but dark. The lights are set low. You have to fumble a bit to find the button for your floor, more to find your keys. Remus nudges you aside, gentle but firm. He opens the door, lets you stumble inside. 

“Sleep, alright?” He opens the door to your bedroom, and you’ve already forgotten your earlier conversation. “I’ll be there in a bit.” 

You know where he’s going, the sound of the landing door confirming it only a moment later. You hear the lighter, the exhale, even over the city’s lullaby. You turn away and the sight of your bed lures you in, more than changing into pajamas or undoing your makeup and hair. But just as you topple onto the mattress, your nerves go frigid. Without Remus next to you, fingers running through your hair, it’s hard. You flip and flip and flip until the last dregs of night force you to sleep. 

—

When you wake, it’s jolting, to the crash of pans, a shit sworn under breath. Someone changed you out of your clothes while you slept, put you in one of Remus’ old soft tees, loose and hot on your skin. Your hand travels to his side of the bed on instinct, even though you know he’s out in the kitchen. Usually, when he makes breakfast Sunday mornings, you collect his warmth, coiling up where he lay only minutes before to try and push the day away as best you can. But today, the sheets are cold. 

You pull yourself up, a frown weighing down your lips. The bedspread is undisturbed, sheets crisp as when you made the bed the morning before. 

Did he even fall asleep? Some kind of dread pools in your gut, tugging and tugging at your intuition. You stand from the bed, stumble into the kitchen, pausing to look around. 

He wasn’t making breakfast. He was grabbing his extra pack, one now slipped between his fingers. It’s eleven in the morning. The clouds are stuck to the sky. And here he is, sitting on the landing, looking out at the bleakness of gray, of the city. 

You say his name so quietly it sounds like a nightmare, go to him with clouds for feet. When he turns to look at you, your heart startles. He’s hollowed out. Eyes rimmed red. You step out barefoot onto the wood of the landing, stopping a foot before him. 

“Show me your hands.” Your voice is soft, the command firm. When he doesn’t comply right away, you take his right fist and unfurl it for him. On his palm run deep crescent moons, some almost biting through his skin with force. You swipe your thumb against them, sandwiching his hand between yours to massage out his scars. “Baby, what’s wrong?” 

He turns around again, whole body facing outside except for his hand. He can’t bring himself to make you let him go. The silence stutters between you two, you still drawing hearts onto his palm and him away. He takes a drag from his cigarette. 

“We need to break up,” he says finally, and you think someone’s gone and pulled the landing from under you, because you never once in your life thought you’d hear those words. Not from Remus’ mouth. Not ever. 

“What?” You try repeating the death he’s just uttered, but your tongue lies limp in your mouth and your lips refuse to work right. “What?” 

He doesn’t say it again. You don’t particularly want to hear it again, so you just watch as his lips turn white with pressure, as his mouth stays shut. 

“Something happened,” you say just to get it out there. “What?” 

“I love you,” he starts, and you slap pettily at his wrist. 

Shut up, you mean. You can’t say that. Not right now. 

“I love you, and so, I refuse to drag you down with me.” Smoke settles around his pretty hair, stagnates. That’ll be a bitch of a smell to wash out, you think. “You deserve to live with a picket fence around your house. You deserve four kids and a dog. You deserve a husband. Not a werewolf, not someone you have to miss your life for.” 

You open your mouth, but he stops you. His words refuse to absorb into your brain, refuse to puzzle themselves out. You watch his fingers open into yours, clench onto you with the desperation of a man on the death row. 

“You deserve better than me,” he exhales with some kind of botched finality. “I love you too much to make you my future, dove. In another lifetime, I’ll be better for you. I promise.” 

Your head tilts up to the sky. You can see shards of sunlight now, meshed through a particularly thin cloud. Lovely, lovely. 

You can feel his eyes on you, roving over your face and body, trying to puzzle out your thoughts. It’s funny how some things work themselves out.

yes, i got lazy at the end and yes, i have an alternate ending written

masterlist

tags: @lydiasfalling @cowboylikemac @treefairy-28 @lolwey @callsignwidow @navs-bhat @hisparentsgallerryy @brxght-world @grxcisxhy-wp @luvv-danielle @idkman5353. @just-here-for-ff @rubyinthebooks @laurenzitaa @ariesandwolves @wasiasproject