#well it's a change of pace from me saying 'remus is a delight' every time i think about him... pffft

[soysaucevictim]

I'm trying to draw the twins' mom now.

But my brain is hamster-wheeling over Janus saying, "You're right, we wouldn't wanna plant too many trees. Just think of all the CO2 that might be absorbed."

:,D

[pancakehouse]

ok! i need to see 16 please! give me GUN

(send me a siken line and i'll write a mini fic inspired by it)

hi i LOVE u and you're my hero and a goddess and here is a gun just for you annie emmeline!!!!!

16. someone’s pulling a gun and you’re jumping in the middle of it. 

A voice drags Remus into consciousness. A shouting voice, to be specific; one that manages to cut through a strong dose of healing potions and the heavy sleep of a boy who’s just finished nearly clawing himself to death. 

It’s impressively loud, really, and if Remus currently had any control over miraculous things like moving his mouth or speaking, then he’d definitely be telling the posh prick to kindly shut the fuck up right about now. As it is, he can’t do much more than lie there and listen.

“I’m not fucking doing this every month, James,” the voice is saying. Shouting. “He- he’s just - do you know how this fucking feels? To have to stand by, and watch the person you… fuck, I mean look at him! What if- what if he-” 

The voice chokes off, and Remus frowns (or tries to). Something rattles painfully in his ribcage, right near the spot where bones are trying to mend themselves back together, where purple spreads across tender flesh. Where this voice, Sirius’ voice, hoarse and rough and cracked-open, tucks itself right into the mix. 

It takes herculean effort, but Remus manages to force his eyes half-open, right as Peter’s voice sounds from somewhere to his left. “Maybe we shouldn’t, erm-” he’s saying, shaky and nervous.“D’you guys think when we, you know, change…what if he…” 

The room goes quiet, and Remus’ stomach drops. Not because he fully understands what Peter’s talking about, but because he can feel it when Sirius tenses, even from across the room.

“What?” demands Sirius. His jaw is clenched, eyes blazing like he’s a sparked fuse ready to blast the whole castle down around them and delight in the wreckage. “What the fuck does that mean, you useless, spineless little-” 

“Okay, that’s enough!” James cuts in. Bravely (stupidly), he puts a hand on Sirius’ shoulder. If it were anyone else, they might’ve walked away with a torn-out bite of flesh, but as it is, Sirius only sighs, and shakes him off in a manner that’s not-quite-gentle. “Sirius, none of this is Peter’s fault. I know you’re scared, and we’re all tired, but you yelling isn’t helping Moony. And Pete…just, well- the point is that we are going to help him, alright? We’ll be there, and this won’t ever happen again, okay?”

Grey light streams through the curtains, and Remus wonders idly what time it is - what day it is. And he wonders what kind of person it makes him that he’s almost grateful for this, the ache in his body. For the moon and the bandages and the new scars and old. 

Because those are all things he has, and this is also a thing he has: Sirius, here, cheeks damp and shoulders trembling, here, for him. 

And he has James, pacing the floor. And Peter, twitching in the chair by his side. And Sirius, who’s so painfully beautiful even with dark circles and a rumpled shirt, turning to glare at Peter every few seconds, like he’s daring him to move even an inch closer, like he won’t be so forgiving as he was with James. 

Secretly - on days when his joints aren’t so bruised and the moon isn’t an echo rattling his skull - that look sends a spark through Remus. It’s something like his lazy smirk before mouthing off in class, or the easy flick of a smooth, pale wrist before his duelling partner is sent flying across the room. 

It’s like a warning, maybe, written in stocky bold letters: Get out now, before it’s too late. 

But it’s already too late for Remus. Has been for ages - going on years now. And he still remembers the exact moment he realised it: 

Third year, a Hogsmeade weekend, and a cushy buffer of two weeks on either side of the moon. They were all packed inside the Three Broomsticks, crammed in a sticky booth, sipping butterbeers, and cheering over the luck of a free day off. 

Remus remembers Sirius sitting across from him. He remembers watching Anya Patil and her pretty green eyes press her thigh into his, and the way she leaned in too close whenever Sirius spoke, laughed too loud when he made a joke. The way her hand trailed up his shoulder, in a way she undoubtedly meant to appear subtle. 

He remembers Sirius’ knee knocking against his own under the table. The sharp, swooping feeling that went through his stomach. He met Sirius’ gaze across the table, and they’d looked at each other for a long, silent moment. The sounds of the bar, their friends, it all dulled to nothing. 

There was something coiled and tense in Remus’ ribs, then. In the same spot Sirius has always held, from that moment on. Remus thought love was supposed to be slow and gradual - like in the sappy romance novels Lily’s always giving him. A soft fall, like into a riverbed or a pile of grass.

But this was Sirius Black. Everything from his cheekbones to his grin to his words were sharp like a knife. So it stands, Remus supposes, that loving him would be like a gut punch to the stomach. A reducto to the chest. It was someone pulling out a gun, and Remus thinking - Well, what’s one more shot to the ribs? For him? Alright, go on then. 

“I have to go,” Sirius had said then. He jumped up from the booth, Anya’s hand sliding awkwardly off his shoulder, and Remus’ stomach had sunk to the floor. 

This was worse than a moon; he’d take the broken bones and bruises and clawed-open flesh any day over losing Sirius’ friendship. He almost took it back, then, and said: Wait, I’m sorry, it doesn’t matter. I promise. It’s nothing - I’m nothing, we can just - 

But then: “We have to go,” Sirius amended. And then he’d grabbed Remus’ arm, yanked him up, and dragged him all the way out the door. Pushed him up against a cold brick wall, and kissed him with pillow soft lips and warm fingers that slipped under his jumper, curved into his side; right into the weak, tender spots between brittle bones and aching lungs and every ounce of reckless want Remus would allow himself to have. 

More than he should, probably. But then Sirius looks over at him now, and when he sees he's awake his face shifts from the glare he reserves for Peter, and the fear he reserves for James, and softens into something he maybe reserves for Remus alone. And when he grins, razor-sharp, it really doesn’t feel dangerous at all.

[jilytho]

Nah, She Didn’t

The seven times Sirius Black said “nah, she didn’t” about James and Lily. Read below or here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26399692

Third year

“James!” Sirius shouted as he walked in his dorm and saw his best mate sitting on his bed, head in hands.  “Where were you? We’ve been waiting for you in the library for an hour to work on the map.” Sirius shoved him over so he could sit alongside him.

“Sorry, I forgot,” James said, refusing to look up from his hands. Sirius scoffed at him, “no way you forgot, what the ruddy hell were you doing?”

“I erm I ran into Evans,” James fidgeted, slowly meeting Sirius’ eyes. “I was just trying to be friendly but she was with Snivellus and he said some shite and I hexed him without thinking and er, she yelled pretty loud.” James was running his hands through his hair, dejected.

“Nothing new there mate, Evans has a permanent stick in her arse and Snivellus is a git. Still not seeing the issue.”

James looked down again, pulling at his fingernails. “She said she hated me, Sirius. She hates me. I tried to apologize but she wouldn’t listen,” James mourned, looking like a kicked puppy, “she meant it, she really hates me.”

Sirius looked at his pathetically upset friend, all spun out over a dumb girl. He deserved better than that. Still, he spoke with a gentle tone, “Nah, she didn’t mate. She didn’t mean it.” He stood up and reached out a hand to help James up, “let's get to the kitchens, slice of pie might cheer you up”

Fourth Year - September

“Potter, Evans”

“Black, McGregor”

McGonagall had it with James and Sirius being partners in class. Apparently it wasn’t “appropriate” to practice their transfiguration studies by changing all the clocks in the school into toads that would ‘ribbit’ on the hour. The two were separated and while Sirius was genuinely upset to be separated from his best mate and paired with a brown nosing Hufflepuff, James seemed delighted with his new partner. He tried to look all dejected along with Sirius when he said “oh bad luck mate” but Sirius wasn’t stupid. He saw the joy and hope shining in his eyes as he slid his stuff onto the desk next to Evans. Saw the beaming smile he gave her, and was surprised by the small one she returned him with.

Throughout class he watched as Evans took notes, hand bumping James’ every once in a while. He watched her head lean towards his and whisper something to him, saw her giggle lightly at whatever James responded with. Saw the blush light up the back of her neck and her ears when McGonagall shot them a look that clearly said, ‘shut it’.

As he packed up his stuff at the end of class, he watched Evans say goodbye to James and actually, really smile at him, as she walked away.

“Sirius! Mate, did you see that? Did you see her smile at me? She was being so nice to me! She actually smiled!” James looked dumbfounded as he jogged to Sirius’s desk, eyes stuck on the door Lily had just disappeared through.

“Nah, she didn’t. You’re seeing things.” Sirius threw his bag over his shoulder and ignored the disappointed look on James’ face.

Fourth Year - December

“Sirius, Sirius!” James panted, sprinting up to the Gryffindor table.

Sirius just stared at him as James leaned over, pressing his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

“Can I help you, James?” he drew out slowly.

“I just found a note in my rucksack inviting me to meet a secret admirer in the broom cupboard next to the Trophy Room!” James thrust the scrap of parchment towards Sirius. “Look at it! Look at the writing! Doesn’t it look like how Lily writes?? Do you think she sent it? She must have slipped it in during Transfiguration!”

Sirius looked back and forth between the parchment and James red, elated face, before his attention got pulled over to the Hufflepuff table, where Veronica Lepore and Elizabeth Green kept giggling and looking over at James and Sirius. When Sirius caught them staring, Veronica flushed scarlet and almost fell out of her chair.

“Nah, James, she didn’t. I reckon it may have been one of those two,” he pointed over at the Hufflepuffs. Veronica smiled brilliantly and twiddled her fingers at James in a meant to be flirty wave.

“Bad luck mate,” he watched the excitement dry out of James’ eyes. “Hey! Still exciting! She’s pretty fit.”

Fifth Year

After the incident James looked more miserable than Sirius had ever seen him. He was pacing back and forth across the dormitory, trying to pull his hair out. Sirius laid across his bed, watching him pace, playing with a quaffle. “Did you hear her, Sirius? Rather go out with the giant squid. I know I’m not perfect but at least I’m not slimy! I thought her and I were getting somewhere. We’ve barely fought all term, I don’t understand. She didn’t mean that, right? Just something she said mad?” James looked at him desperately.

“Nah, James, she didn't,” Sirius said in a monotone, throwing the quaffle up in the air. James kept pacing and muttering about Evans and giant squids and Sirius rolled his eyes and began to tune him out. Evans was fit enough but she was bloody annoying, definitely not worth the daily headache he got listening to James drone on about her. Time for him to move on.

Sixth year

After Sirius spent the first two weeks of term prodding, James finally asked out Camila Evington, a fit seventh year Ravenclaw. She seemed to like James and was fit, smart, and a decent enough chaser. She should’ve been a perfect fit for James but he took so much convincing to ask her out. He wouldn’t say why but Sirius knew it was Evans. It was always Evans.

Still after Camila had blatantly flirted with him, James asked her to Hogsmeade and they’d been together for a few weeks leaving Sirius with a so far Evans free term. That is until Slughorn decided that Sirius could “benefit from working with a more knowledgeable peer” as his potions partner and separated him and Peter to put him with Evans. He had zero interest in working with her. He had never really had an issue with her before, never really spoke to her, but the way James had gone on about her hair and her brain made him want to never look at her again.

He nodded at her when she moved her stuff to join him at his table, “Evans.”

“Black” she nodded back, looking almost as pleased as him with their new seating arrangement.

They worked in almost total silence, brewing their Pepperup Potion and working fairly well as a team. Evans was just starting to carefully add the correct number of salamander blood drops when Sirius came back from the supply shelf with their mandrake root, tripped over the stool next to her, and slammed into Evans’ back, causing her to pour over half the vial into the cauldron. The potion immediately began to bubble, reacting to the overdose of salamander blood and turning a nasty, incorrect shade of blue instead of the light pink shade it was meant to be at this stage. Sirius braced himself for the inevitable scolding he was going to get from Evans, and subsequent detentions he expected Slughhorn to give him for messing up the Perfect Prefects’ potion. Apologies were on the tip of his tongue as he walked around the table, carefully avoiding the stool this time, to face her head on. “Ah buggering hell, I’m sorry Evans. Is it totally ruined?”

She looked up at him and surprised him completely by actually smirking at him. Smirking. Lily Evans, smirking. “Yeah I reckon it's pretty done for. Wanna pour some eye of newt in there as well and see if it explodes?”

His jaw dropped, eyes widened to see if she was messing with him and just waiting to call Slug over when he saw her actually start reaching for the Eye of Newt.

“Hell yeah, Evans. Lets do it” he smirked right back at her.

Later, walking out of the class, Remus caught up to him. “I saw your Pepperup was completely the wrong color, did Lily chew you out for it?”

“Why would it be my fault that the potion was wrong? Couldn’t it have been Evans fault?” Sirius said in mock offense.

“Um no,” Remus rolled his eyes.  “Lily is brilliant at potions. You, on the other hand, never have the patience to actually follow the instructions. Stop avoiding the question, did she really give it to you?” he looked gleeful at the idea of him being reamed out by Evans.

“Nah, she didn’t,” Sirius said softly. It seems he may have misjudged Evans slightly. Remus looked disappointed for a second before moving on, but Sirius continued to think about Lily for the rest of the afternoon. Seems she actually might be worth the headache.

Seventh Year

Things had been different this year. Ever since being potions partners, Lily and Sirius were friendly. More than friendly, they were actual friends. Even weirder still, James and Lily had become friends. Camila and James had broken up after only 2 and a half weeks of dating for seemingly no reason, but Sirius didn’t rib James nearly as much as James had expected. He actually supported it.

James had become Head Boy, ridiculous and absurd, but it meant more time around Lily which Sirius honestly didn’t mind. If anything, he encouraged it. He was glad they were friends, truly, and even gladder that being friends stopped James from inanely blathering on and on about her.

Things had all been good until a seemingly normal Thursday night. Sirius was lying in bed, reading Quidditch Weekly while pretending to be writing his Muggle Studies essay that he would just copy from Moony later. Peter and Remus were getting snacks from the kitchen and James had been out on patrols with Lily. The door opened quietly and James walked in dumbly. Footsteps heavy, arms seemingly forgetting how to move, his entire face and neck covered in a flush. His eyes were bright and it looked like he’d either been hit over the head with something or hit with a particularly strong stunning spell.

“James?” Sirius said cautiously, sitting up slightly. James didn’t respond but instead just sat down on his bed across from Sirius’, continuing to stare forward dumbly, “James, what happened?”

This sparked James to turn and meet his eye. His hair was even messier than usual.

“She kissed me,” he said softly, as if he almost didn’t believe it himself.

“I’m sorry, she what?” Sirius spoke loudly now, sitting all the way up.

“Lily,” he said simply, “we were saying goodnight after patrols when she just, she just kissed me. And then she just walked away. She kissed me.” James touched his lips at that, like he could still feel it.

“Nah, she didn’t,” Sirius shook his head at him. “No way, mate.”

“Sirius. She kissed me!” It seemed like Sirius’s disagreement woke him out of his stupor because he suddenly shot up and tackled Sirius back down into his bed, screaming “She kissed me!”

Years later

Sirius sat across from his godson. A brilliant boy made of all the best pieces of his two best friends. A boy who remembered so little of the people who loved him most.

“How come she married him?” Harry asked miserably. “She hated him!”

Sirius felt his heart break. How wrong this poor boy was. He couldn’t make himself explain all the ways Harry was wrong so he settled for the simplest explanation he could offer.

“Nah, she didn’t,” said Sirius.

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 113: Dumbledore's Army

Regulus found himself being slammed into something even harder than a wooden desk, though he hadn't thought that possible, but his ears still rung from the metal clang. When his eyes finally settled, he found himself face first against a locker. He didn't even know Hogwarts had lock- he gasped so loudly Peter looked over at him in concern as he kept rubbing at his own head until Regulus shouted, "we're in the Quidditch locker rooms!"

The captain of his team, Craig Sloper, had let him be a reserve Seeker this year, but so far he'd sat on the benches during practice while the actual Seeker, Aubrey Bertram, shot around perfectly managing to catch the Snitch every time; nobody had bothered letting him even get in the air for practice. They were all fifth year and above, and had shooed him away any time he tried to follow them into the locker rooms, now nobody was going to stop him getting a look around!

He opened the one he'd landed against eagerly to see the scarlet Gryffindor robes with Weasley on the back, though it didn't specify which one. There were three long, low benches and a chalkboard across from that on a wall, separating the two bathrooms, and he promptly took off to investigate those.

"Who gets that bloody excited about a locker room?" Lily asked, starting to wonder if she wasn't the only one getting hit on the head one too many times around here.

"I sure am," Alice said, getting stiffly to her feet once more, and like him making her way eagerly towards a hot shower. Lily followed at once in concern, but Alice's brief little rest seemed to have done her some good, she didn't stumble once over the small step into the girls' section and opened the first stall door without hesitation, so Lily politely turned away and began shucking her own clothes as she investigated the place. Across from the seven shower stalls were another set of stalls for toilets, and the same amount of sinks lining the wall where they'd entered. She got a funny laugh for a moment imagining all seven players and even seven reserve players all being in here at the same time as she turned on her own hot water.

By the time they stepped out they felt like singing, they were actually clean again, even if Lily's charm still had their school robes unsoiled at best. They stopped in surprise though to see Sirius Black and Lupin apparently hadn't joined the amenities yet, but were the only two in there still.

Black had apparently been trying to pace again and muttering something while Lupin held his hand, but the girls barely registered any of it as the two immediately shied away from each other upon seeing them. Then Black gave them a saucy smile and swaggered right up to them. "Evening ladies, sorry I couldn't join you."

Lily groaned in disgust and stalked away, as if she needed another Marauder idiot panting after her, but Alice laughed in surprise, she was absolutely positive he was joking.

Sirius Black seemed delighted at her response, and smiled winningly at Alice, only causing her to laugh harder until someone cleared their throat behind him.

Lily watched Black turn on the spot and glower at Frank once more, his blonde hair looking more brunet as it still clung in a wet plaster to his scalp, hands still itching to cause some kind of violence, even though the odd sight of Frank holding apparently every towel in this place and having to crane his head around the pile just to see was worth a question.

Lupin came up and grabbed the back of his shirt though, hauling him just slightly around Frank like a scolded puppy, and adding to the effect by saying, "come on Padfoot, bath time."*

They walked into the steam-filled room, only to find the others already wrapping up, James literally with a towel as he prodded at his grungy clothes miserably. "I think I'll burn these when we get back, should have grabbed a change of clothes like you did when I had the chance Sirius."

"I can't believe I actually managed a shower before him," Peter was still rubbing a towel in his hair, "when's that ever happened? You two feeling alright?"

The two stayed awkwardly silent, it had been a while since they'd had to realize how perceptive they knew Peter to be, and if he suspected anything.

Sirius stomped off without response, losing an article of clothing shamelessly with each step until he was at the last stall and slamming it closed behind him. Remus plucked uneasily at the hem of his sleeve and avoided eye contact. He'd never liked changing clothes in front of his friends even though they knew about the scars now, and especially with Regulus still in here, his long hair still dripping water onto his clothes.

Peter and Regulus thankfully left in the awkward silence regardless, Regulus had agreed with the other two when they'd decided against going out to see what the holdup of Sirius and Lupin following in was considering he'd almost been caught in the future again and he probably hadn't wanted to show to anyone he was worried about it. James still wanted to check on him, but now honestly worried he'd just get brushed off again, but wanting to check on him somehow, he lowered his voice as the water squeaked on and the steam doubled. "Is everything alright with him?"

James hated he was having to ask someone else that, he was usually the leading expert on Sirius, but Padfoot wasn't talking to him?!

"Not really," Remus whispered, ruined slightly by cringing away from even Prongs, it only just occurred to him why James looked so defeated at having to ask this. Sirius had been avoiding him a bit lately, and he leaned closer to try and vaguely explain this instead. "He's, had a lot on his mind lately, you know that, and well, he's trying to find a new way to cope with it."

He was really hoping the room was actually as hot as his face was at the end.

James seemed to find this a reasonable enough answer at least, but still gave one last dejected look to the seventh stall before finally changing into his grungy clothes, but just tucking his glasses into his pocket as he left. They weren't doing any good in this steamed room.

Remus slowly peeled off one layer at a time, down to his boxers, and dithered if he should do what his mind prompted him to. They could be back any minute...nope. He definitely wasn't.

He couldn't make himself turn on the shower yet though, and instead found himself just leaning against the door Sirius had hid himself behind and tapping his bare feet impatiently. Finally, after starting and stopping several times in his head, he simply asked, "Would hitting him have really made you feel better?"

"Yes," Sirius instantly replied.

"Really?" He stressed the word, trying his hardest to keep the accusation out of his tone. "Think about the last two times you did something without thinking first Sirius, has that actually made anything better?"

He couldn't actually see Sirius, but he'd swear he could actually feel him twitch uncomfortably.

"Look, I'm not happy with Longbottom either," he continued when no response seemed to be coming for that. "Merlin knows I'd love it if nobody ever assumed I was some bloodthirsty animal again, but Sirius did you ever think, maybe he actually doesn't know better?"

"That's ridiculous-" his biting words were already edging towards incredulity, but Remus cut in insistently.

"Sirius, you know better than anyone what others think of me, but you three actually got to know me before you found out."

Sirius mulled that over for a moment before he retorted, "wouldn't kill the guy to ask then rather than treating you like that!"

"Have we really given him the chance?" Remus asked in exasperation. "I know I haven't exactly stepped up and offered to be their guinea pig if they have questions, I doubt you lot have." He thought for a moment and amended, "maybe Peter's been saying something to Regulus, but I kind of doubt it." At least, he wasn't vain enough to think that's what they were talking about now.

Sirius went so long without answering again, Remus got off the door and sighed in defeat. He had his hand on the next stall door though when Sirius spoke, "alright Moony. He, well, you're the one wronged here. If you really think a lecture is the punishment he deserves, well, I'll back you up on that. It's probably worse than what I could do to him anyways."

Remus's heart stuttered in surprise, and then he abandoned such a thing as caution as he went back and pushed his stall door open before closing it firmly behind them.

Regulus yawned and cracked his eyes open, and immediately began shuffling around uncomfortably. Evans had done them a kindness by embedding a cushioning charm into the hard marble floor, but still he woke up cradling his head on his arms instead of a pillow and it wasn't exactly comfortable. Peter was a few paces away, on his side and snoring. Potter was half hanging off a bench and grimacing even in his sleep at that awkward position.

On the other side of the room, Longbottom had built Alice a little mini bed out of towels and all the Quidditch robes, but she'd half pulled him on top of that and the two were tangled up together in a sickening display of affection. Evans had herself propped up in the corner, likely to have a crick in her neck for that, directly under the light switch where she hadn't bothered to move from once they'd all agreed a nap even in this uncomfortable place was better than nothing.

He didn't spot his brother or Lupin though, which was odd as he'd swear he heard the water turn off about the time he was falling asleep. Stretching uncomfortably he made his way back towards the showers, plus he really had to take a piss.

He'd relieved himself and was walking back before he spotted the two, propped up in a corner as well, but tangled up like the couple. It was the most bizarre thing he'd ever seen, and he'd once watched Davey Gudgeon try to swallow an ostrich egg whole.

It's not like he could blame his brother wanting to use someone else as a pillow, and maybe the two really had been as exhausted as everyone and barely decided to get dressed before dropping to sleep where they were. He eyed the two for a few moments more before just walking off, Sirius had always been the odd one, and he'd been given the impression long before now werewolves could sleep in any environment, and they weren't to be woken up under any circumstances.

He cringed at his own thoughts as he stepped back down into the locker rooms, now thoroughly understanding better than ever why Sirius had flat out refused any more of their parents' lectures this past summer with a friend like that.

He went snooping, quietly, through the rest of the lockers proper now before finally coming across the book in Harry's. Appropriate enough at least, but he didn't feel like waking anyone else up yet as he settled back down on the floor and thought through the blank pages.

It was surprising, thinking back, that there was no 'mystery' going on in Harry's life this year, unlike the first four where attention had frequently been captured by trying to figure out who was attempting to murder this kid. Instead, that weapon had not been mentioned once since Grimmauld Place, so it was likely not at Hogwarts or Harry would have stumbled into some way to investigate that by now. Instead they'd been dealing with the horrid effects of Umbridge, and no matter who plotted what, nothing they said or did was getting rid of her.

Instead, his eyes wandered back to land on Alice and Longbottom curiously, and his stomach tightened in unease. He'd never really talked to girls, though there were a few in his year he thought pretty enough he would, but Regulus also knew his parents already had an arranged marriage set for him. As far as he knew they hadn't picked anyone yet, but it had been brought up once or twice and he hadn't asked further.

Sirius had already made it very clear he'd have no part in that, not that Regulus could really blame him when they'd made mention of him and Bellatrix at one point. That had made his skin crawl so bad he'd almost thought about excusing himself from dinner before just putting his spoon down and cringing at the following fight. He'd hide in the attic for a week after that one.

His eyes switched to Potter and Evans, any first-year knew the first had a huge crush on the latter, but also of the results. Regulus huffed and squirmed, now eyeing the book in his hands in distaste, he blamed this stupid thing for where his thoughts had jumped to. Harry's crush on Cho had been mentioned so often this year, and it was just confusing.

He momentarily considered going back in and kicking Sirius awake, but he still wasn't even sure if he wanted to talk to Sirius. It was starting to feel like he wasn't going to get much of a choice though. He liked talking to Peter, he'd actually say with confidence now he was probably the first friend he'd ever had considering he could barely talk about Quidditch with anyone from his house without someone inevitably trying to bring up the Dark Lord. He didn't know how Severus could stand his apparent double life where he'd so smoothly discuss this and then apparently go hang around Evans where they talked about Merlin knew what, but surely not that.

Peter was two years older than him though. Would it be too odd to ask him about something like this? It still felt like a question he should ask his brother, if he could stand talking to him again, he still wasn't sure of that. He still didn't want Sirius to just start talking to him just because they agreed on the Dark Lord now, he wanted his brother to talk to him like old times back before they'd even been to Hogwarts. That was still probably a childish dream he was clinging to.

Potter startled and crashed to the floor out of his own dream, groaning and cursing loudly enough everybody else began murmuring and looking around blearily for this disruption. It must have been loud enough to wake up Sirius and Lupin too, because the pages he'd been idly flipping through suddenly had a chapter title that caught his eye almost halfway through the book. Dumbledore's Army, how strange.

"You alright Prongs?" Sirius came bounding in, awake and aware as if he'd been there the whole time. "Sounded like someone was cutting your toes off."

"I'll get a pair of shears and do it to you, arse," he huffed, but his upside-down smile held no hint of a threat. Sirius at least seemed in a better mood today.

Regulus watched the two for a few more beats with longing, Sirius never joked around with him like that anymore. As he started reading about the trio's worry of Umbridge getting ahold of Harry's mail though and Sirius looked genuinely touched at their worry for a moment before loudly brushing that off, Regulus still felt more like getting up and kicking him in the shins for still being an idiot.

At least he and everyone cheered the Gryffindor team was officially back in action, even if it was ruined only moments later by that arrogant little muggle-born accusing Sirius of living vicariously through those teenagers.

"Hey," Sirius looked genuinely hurt for the snub, and Regulus had to remind himself Sirius was glaring at the book like that, not at him, again.

"It's not as if you discouraged them," Evans huffed, rubbing her neck in the corner. "I don't blame her for thinking like that."

Regulus looked to her in confusion, turning her words over in his head as he realized, did she not think that of him? She actually hadn't been yelling and telling them off nearly as much lately now that he thought about it.

He still avoided the argument as much as he could, or at least didn't want to live through two at once, as Harry properly defended his godfather and the whole thing was interrupted by Peeves and Katie Bell starting a miniature war.

Even as he kept going though, right into this locker room and the boys preparing for a practice, Regulus kept absently watching the three and saw none of them had really taken Hermione's comment to heart. It was heartening they really did seem to not be judging Sirius anymore, especially after that last awful thing these books had implied he'd done.

Remus finally came out of the bathroom himself, waiting until Regulus took a pause for breath before flushing the toilet, and having splashed around the water in the sink far longer than he needed to, but still rubbing the heel of his hand into his eyes like he'd only just crawled off the floor. Sirius and James were now snooping through the rest of the lockers and had come across the little orange pill that had apparently put boils where no human would want them.

"Dare you to eat it Moony!" Sirius said as if he'd been there the whole time.

"I'm sure my physiology isn't so unique I wouldn't get those boils too," he grimaced in disgust.

Regulus looked at him in surprise, but it was Evans who piped up in confusion, "what's that supposed to mean?"

He went a little red around the face again, even his smile looked more forced than friendly, but he also didn't immediately shy behind Sirius or Potter like usual as he tried to answer, "ah, some things don't affect me like they do others, I don't get common colds, and certain potions have strange effects on me."

Sirius reached over and popped him on the neck, but lightly, there was no force in the gesture or in his teasing tone. "I thought when you threatened to lecture them, you were going to start with something more interesting than that."

Peter's mouth was hanging open slightly, and Potter was watching the two like someone really was fixing to go at them with garden shears.

It wasn't having much of a good effect on their intended person anyways, Frank scrunched up his face in dislike that apparently some of the texts were true then and werewolves really were other. What else was so different about him that half-breeds needed post scripts about potions?

Lily though found what he'd said fascinating, she'd never have guessed at such a thing and now burned with the desire to ask just how many potions, which exactly, and what quantities he'd taken to know such a thing? She suddenly recalled that wolfsbane potion all the way back from the third book, and her eyes lit in delight as she half asked, half accused, "that wolfsbane potion though, did you know what that was?"

"No," he said honestly, "I've never heard a thing about that, but I also said it was something new in that time."

She nodded in fairness, but was already formulating a list of ingredients in her head, she'd have to ask him specifically if he knew which did and didn't have this effect on him. Was this why he was such a lazabout in potions? She would have wanted to know every detail of this if it were her.

James shifted about uneasily, when had Remus and Sirius decided on this approach? He didn't like the way Longbottom was still looking anywhere but at Remus, and now Evans was apparently going to start scrutinizing him like she would a potions text.

Regulus exchanged a bewildered look with Peter, who merely shrugged. Remus had been comfortable with them for years though to discuss this, but seeing him try to do it with the others was bizarre and he had no idea what to make of it. Regulus went back to reading rather than letting the awkward silence linger, all the way up to something thoroughly distracting, Harry's scar burning once more, and he knew it to be because the Dark Lord was angry about something.

He shivered through the following exchange between Harry and Ron over this, feeling like he needed another shower already by the end. The idea of having to deal with someone else's mood because of a cursed scar was just creepy, let alone who exactly Harry was connected to!

Regulus's stomach continued to swill with unease as Harry continued to brood over everything this could mean. At least whatever that weapon was still seemed to be out of the wrong side's hands, but as he fell asleep over his homework worrying about this, and Sirius, and even that strange dream of a locked door again, and the entire confusing mess of his life, it was almost a relief to get interrupted by Dobby turning back up with Hedwig.

He stopped at the small interruption and glanced up to see nobody looked very distracted. This, thing, between Harry and You-Know-Who was just plain weird, and kept getting more so as time went on. Regulus's eyes flitted to Lupin and back to the book though as he decided they weren't doing any good sitting around worrying about it. This had been done to Harry, the poor guy was just suffering through the consequences.

The house-elf was admittedly a very good distraction, as Harry confessed his problem of spacing issues with his group, and the elf seemed to have an answer for this? Muttering broke out amongst all the older students, but Regulus watched carefully and saw it was all amazement and curiosity, no recognition though, so kept going loudly and even bouncing a bit at the end as Harry got a message to where this would be taking place, and finally described how to get in.

"This is amazing!" Potter squealed, dancing on the spot like he was fighting the urge to wrench that away from him now, and Regulus held it a little tighter to his chest. "I can't believe, how did we never, Merlin's pants!"

"You never knew about this either?" Evans looked genuinely astounded he was admitting such a thing.

"You just heard Harry check the map, of course we didn't!" He seemed so stunned at this new development, he seemed to miss the one going on right in front of him of Evans actually asking a question directly to him.

"The Room of Requirements, can you imagine all the possibilities?" Sirius was practically drooling at the notion of this.

"It's even right on our floor, around the corner from our dorm apparently!" Peter bemoaned, leaning over his shoulder to get a look at this himself.

Nobody could stop themselves muttering in delight at this new discovery right in Hogwarts they could actually go to right now if any of them had still been mad enough to bother trying a door. Regulus sighed as he glared at it again for the first time in ages, wishing he had free rein so he could sprint up there right now, but finally conceded and read out over everyone to keep getting as close as he could to this place in the meantime.

It was of some mild comfort to the Marauders the twins were even in their seventh year now and apparently had never come across this place either as anything other than a one-way broom cupboard, according to them anyways as Filch hadn't been able to get it open but they'd left, and the four exchanged hopeful looks maybe in their last two years something similar would have happened to them as well by then, it was driving them nuts they'd have left the school and never even gotten a hint of this.

James pulled his map out and eyed right where he'd put it in, then he paused and considered to himself if they even should. Since they now knew exactly where it was, it would function the same as the rest. He'd have to add the charm telling how to activate the location, but that would take seconds. He smiled and rubbed his thumb over the spot as he listened to Harry in there, being a brilliant teacher he wouldn't deny, and how his boy was doing so much good for his fellow students.

He glanced up to see Remus and Sirius with their heads close together, laughing at how the name of this group came about. He looked over and saw Peter and Regulus laughing about mock dueling each other later, and then Frank and Alice beaming and cooing at Neville's first disarming charm on Harry.

Finally he looked up and saw that even Evans was enjoying all of this, laughing quietly at Harry's disjointed interactions with Cho while combing out her hair with a brush she'd clearly nicked from one of the Chasers.

He tried to tell himself this was an improvement, it seemed the first time since all of this had started they were all feeling good about something. He still sighed and tried to brace himself as much as he could when Sirius's little brother warned the chapter was almost done.

*  The smut is posted separately

[banalbones]

The Petite Prince: Chapter 3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, 7, 8

Chapter 3: Of course, little prince

Summary: Roman is a child. Virgil and Logan lost him, and Remus has found a new purpose in life.

Words: 1524

Ships: Familial prinxiety, logince and Creativitwins. Eventual familial royality, roceit and DRLAMP  

Genre: Fluff with a side dose of angst

Warnings: A few swears, Remus (if that needs a warning idk), falling, arguing, small blood mention, small injury, corpse mention, tell me if there’s any more!

Taglist: @pricklyfish777 @sunflowerblondeuwu @itriedandimtired

                                   ̴

The floor outside of big him’s room was waaay more slippery than Roman thought it would be. But then again, the socks he was now wearing probably didn’t help.

The small royal looked down at the smooth wood floor and giggled, a devious little smile slowly spreading across his features.

Slippery, smooth, perfect for sliding around!

Ignoring the fact he could, and probably would, fall and hurt himself, Roman ran across the hall, slipping with every step, cackling hysterically as he neared the stairs.

______________________________

Remus was strolling about, letting his tentacles drag behind him on the hardwood floor of the light side commons.

These dorks should never leave this place unsupervised.

Hehe… dork…

Wonder what they’re doing… Didn’t Patton turn into a giant frog?

That’s pretty hot…

Then suddenly a crash, ending with a small lump landing on the floor at the bottom of the stairs.

Oop.

Wonder what that is…

A corpse someone threw down the stairs?

A bag of bones?

He crept closer.

Is it a-

Then the lump moved... and started crying?

Wait, was that lump a… child?

A child!

Remus moved forward, summoning a stick to poke it, when suddenly the loud wailing stopped.

I thought children were supposed to cry, like all the time?

Isn’t that a thing that living children do?

Then the child turned its head towards him.

Roman?

“Roman?”

The child, Roman, nodded its head, staring at Remus in awe.

Not at Remus, he realized, but at his tentacles.

“Ten-tenacles!” The youthful voice squealed.

Remus felt a wave of protectiveness wash over him.

Mine.

_______________________________

Roman had almost successfully gotten down the stairs, and was quite proud of himself for doing so.

But then came the last two steps.

The petite prince had gotten confident, too confident, and so he let go of the rail.

That had been his big mistake.

The fall had been a blur of color and movement, and then he landed.

Roman felt a small pain shoot up his right -or was it his left?- ankle, causing tears to well up in his eyes.

He let out a loud wail.

Princes weren’t supposed to fall, that wasn’t fair!

He continued to sniffle.

Then stopped.

What if he annoyed someone?

Roman heard the shuffle off feet behind him, and turned towards the person (And their stick).

Then stopped, slack-jawed.

“Roman?”

It was Remus. Big him didn’t like the Duke very much, thought he was scary. Well, this Roman wasn’t scared of anything.

So he nodded, his gaze drifting to the bright green tenacles trailing behind the figure.

The prince’s eyes widened.

“Ten-Tenacles!”

They were so big! And they looked suuuper slimy. He wanted to poke them. How could he poke them?

“Can I have you’ stick?” he asked.

With a big stick like that, it would be easy to touch them.

“Sure.” His big brother replied in a soft voice.

______________________________

Remus handed the three year old the stick, still a bit shocked.

He had a baby brother. A baby bro!

I must protecc. He’s just a smol boy, alone in the world…

(Who said he wasn’t allowed to be extra?)

Then, a sharp pressure on Petunia.

He looked at the tentacle to see a stick, the stick he gave Roman, poking at it. And he laughed.

The little prince looked up at him, confusion clear on his face.

“Wha?”

Remus smiled. Hopefully it wasn’t too scary.

“It’s nothing. Do you want to go to my room? There’s way more stuff to poke there.”

The prince grinned and nodded determinedly, showing off his gap tooth.

Adorable. So cute. My baby bro is cuter than any of the other regressed sides. Change my mind.

And so Remus scooped the little Roman up into his tentacles, causing the smol one to squeal in delight.

“Tenacles!”

“Yup. Tenacles is right, little knight.”

Roman stuck his tongue out and harrumphed, (so pure).

“I’m a Prince, not a kni-not a knight!”

Remus felt his grin spread.

“Of course, little prince.”

And then they sank down into Remus’s room.

_____________________________________________

Virgil felt a sense of fear overtake him. They lost him. They lost the bean.

“Logan, we need to find him, like, right now.”

“I know!”

“Should we get Patton? He could help.”

He watched Logan wince.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea, Virgil. You weren’t there throughout the whole ordeal.”

The whole ordeal? That didn’t sound good.

“Ordeal?”

_______________________________

Logan sighed. He would have to recount the whole tale to Virgil, which would take time. They didn’t have time. They had to find Roman. But if he told Virgil later, that would also take time… Aha! A compromise was due.

“We will look for Roman first, I will tell you as we search.”

There.

This was going to be… something.

_______________________________

Remus rose up in his room, a slime-covered Roman in his tentacles.

“That fun, little Prince?”

Roman just laughed in response.

Remus, still smiling, set the smol one down, gently enough that he wouldn’t break anything. That didn’t stop the Prince from scrunching up his face in pain.

The duke frowned.

“You okay, little prince?”

Roman nodded, then stepped forward on his right leg to do… something… Remus didn’t know, and cringed in pain.

“I don’t think you are, RoRo. Did you hurt yourself on the stairs?”

“No.”

Remus stared at him.

“Maybe…”

Cocked (Hehe) his eyebrow.

The smol one groaned.

“Yeah, I di- I did. But I’m okay!”

He then took another step forward and tipped over, saved only by the mattress Remus summoned in a panic.

It was only slightly bloody. (It was drenched in blood)

He quickly summoned a different mattress (a bloodless one, don’t worry), and flicked his hand, soaking Roman with water.

He loved his baby bro, but cleaning him properly? That was a bit much.

_______________________________

Roman’s face was smushed into a mattress.

Then he smelt blood.

Then he didn’t.

And then-

“AhHhHhH!”

He was drenched in water! It was so cold!

Roman jumped up from his soft savior, ignoring the pain shooting up his foot, and scrunched up his face in concentration.

Aaaand, BAM!

The prince giggled hysterically as he splashed ReeRee with water.

“Take that, you he- you heathen!”

His brother laughed, equally as hysterical, and lifted his hand, summoning more water.

“Oh it. Is. On!”

______________________________

Logan and Virgil sank in and out of the different rooms of the mindscape at a lightning pace, all the while talking about what had happened with Patton and Janus(?!?!) and looking for the bean.

“He sank out? Before the video was done?”

Virgil was shocked. And out of breath. He motioned at Logan to stop for a moment so he could recuperate.

They were back in the commons.

“Yes, he did. And I suspect that the happenings of this ordeal is what led to his eventual regression.”

That… did make sense.

“It isn’t an optimal situation.” Logan remarked.

“No shit, Sherlock,”

“I am not Sherlock,”

“It’s an expression,”

“It isn’t in my collection of vocab cards.”

“Then add it, genius!”

“I will! Just-”

A laugh echoed throughout the mindscape.

Two laughs.

”Is that-”

“Roman?”

“And-”

“Remus?”

The pair stared at each other.

“It came from the entrance of the Imagination.”

“How is your hearing that good?” Virgil mumbled, as the two ran (more exercise? He was not fit enough for this) towards the Imagination.

_______________________________

Would they find Roman? That’s TBD.

Totally believable, dude.

It means ‘to be determined’.

Whatever.

Just get on with it, guys!

_______________________________

Remus grinned, picking Roman up off the ground and spinning him through the air.

“As your prince, I command you to s- I command you to stop!” he squealed.

Remus cackled.

Then he gently placed the smol one down and bowed. “Of course, little prince.”

After the water fight, they had made a deal. If Roman let Remus bandage his ankle, they could go do something in the Imagination. On Remus’s side.

He was a little hesitant to agree at first, but anything was better than a pained little prince. Even the ruination of childhood innocence.

Come to think of it, maybe he shouldn’t have agreed to that.

But it actually went well, so Remus decided not to think about it.

“Now, let’s go!”

The scaled-down side looked up expectantly at Remus.

“To where?”

Roman’s face screwed up in thought.

“ReeRee’s!”

I never thought I could like actual cute things, but here we are.

_______________________________

“To where?”

Roman’s face screwed up in thought.

They could go to…ReeRee’s room!

He opened his mouth to say so, but couldn’t quite form a sentence.

That was so annoying! How was it so easy for big him? No fair.

“ReeRee’s!” he managed to get out.

Yes!

Words were hard, so even one was good.

Remus picked him up.

“Off we go!”

And as they sank down out of the Imagination, the dark grass brushing against Roman’s cheeks, the wind picked up.

The paper crown sat atop his head was then caught in the breeze, thrown off and carried to the edge of the Dark Imagination, ready to be found by a very distressed pair of left brain boys.

__________________________________

“Virgil?”

“Yea- oh no…”

“Exactly.”

__________________________________

Thanks for reading this chapter of The Petite Prince!

If you want a little side story about what the Creativitwins were up to in the Dark Imagination, please let me know.

As the story progresses, I’ll probably make a bunch of fluffy side stories (excuse the pun) about cute stuff that just…happens throughout the main plot (If you people want that).

Also, sorry if Remus is a bit out of character. I’ve never written him before and he’s a lot softer with Roman, sooo, yeah.

Any constructive criticism would be great!

Thanks again!

[nommy-thoughts]

A Tale of Two Noms Chapter 2:  Jelly as Far as the Eye Can See

Chapter 1: Tea Bath Interrupted

Vore Masterpost

Summary: Logan has a bad habit of derailing Remus's pranks without even noticing.

2.6 K

contains: safe, soft vore (with some biting but no injury); willing prey, unaware pred, foodplay, and extreme micro. Implied fulltour at the end, but there's only one sentence about it.

~~~

Remus had a Plan. It was very sneaky. He was going to shrink himself to a fraction of an inch and hide in Logan's favorite jelly until the nerd ate him alive.

Foolproof.

He didn't account for the waiting period. Remus sat in the jelly jar, waiting, for what felt like five lifetimes. It was dark in the fridge, and cold, and most importantly, boring. Remus sighed dramatically, poking at the jelly surrounding him. He burrowed down, burying himself just under the surface, and tried to be patient.

Remus wasn't good at being patient.

This jelly was red, so Remus should have been able to pretend that he was buried in bloody gorey carnage, but the color link really only worked if there was actually light to see by, and the texture really didn't match. Even Remus's overactive imagination had trouble keeping up the game for long. He had to fall back on thinking about butts to keep himself even marginally entertained for the millions and billions of years it took for Logan to come eat him. 

Finally, finally, the refrigerator opened and Remus's jar was lifted. He poked his head just barely out to see, but the jar was only set down again without the lid being removed. Remus squinted, peering through the curved and smudged glass wall. He caught a glimpse of black fabric, and- yes! A blue tie. That was Logan, for sure.

Remus, pouting, had to wait even longer, but after three more eternities, Logan picked the jar up again, finally removing the lid. Remus wiggled in excitement, then stilled, reminding himself that he didn't want to be seen. A knife appeared at the opening, diving down toward him.

It missed.

It missed. Remus could only stare in horror as the knife retreated with a truckload of jelly on it, leaving him behind.

The jar went down again, dropping a skyscraper's height before it stopped with a thud that shook Remus's every scant inch and should have shattered the jar into a million razor-sharp pieces.

Remus lay on his back, staring dejectedly up at the kitchen ceiling miles away. The knife had missed. All his planning, all that waiting, and it had gone to waste.

The jar tilted, and Remus sighed mournfully, knowing that Logan would just be putting the lid back on. To his surprise, the knife returned. The knife returned, and it scooped up some more jelly, and it retreated again, leaving Remus behind once more.

Remus scowled. He'd gone to all this effort to be in the right place at the right time, the least Logan could do was actually eat him!

When the knife returned a third time, it went better. Remus got scooped up with the jelly, and he went soaring up, up, up. Then down, down, down. He landed flat on his face on a hard brown surface, and didn't have time to register what it was before the knife was at his back, sliding him along at an impressive pace and burying him under an avalanche of jam. If he wasn't imaginary, he'd have quite the road rash. Maybe he should let himself get a road rash anyway. That might be fun.

Without warning, the pitted ground dropped out from under him. Remus fell, landing hard. Jelly squished down around him, filling every bit of open space. Remus felt around with his fingers. The ground beneath him was firm, more or less smooth, and curved vaguely up. Remus pushed against it to lift his head out of the jelly and look around. He pushed, and he lifted, and he found nothing but more jelly. Remus squirmed, sitting up further. The layer of jelly above him was thicker than he'd expected, but finally, Remus rose enough that he could see.

And what he could see was more jelly, stretching away in every direction nearly as far as he could see. At the very edge of his vision, Remus saw a massive flesh-toned pillar, stretching into the sky. Logan's finger, pressed against the side of Remus's entire world to hold it up.

Remus was too busy staring that he didn't see the knife's return. It swept into him from the side, burying him in jelly once more and shoving him back down on his face.

Before he could push himself back up, the world dropped out from underneath him. It went down, down, practically at a freefall, and Remus went down with it. It stopped, briefly, then dropped again, somehow even faster, with a landing that knocked Remus's breath from his lungs. He lay, face down in jelly, until he was sure no more earthquakes were coming. Slowly, he pushed himself up again, looking around.

Logan wasn't holding him anymore. Remus hadn't been dropped on the floor, though. He was at about Logan's waist level, actually. Logan towered over him, the biggest living thing Remus had ever seen. It took his breath away.

At this distance, he could actually see Logan as one cohesive being, though blurred with distance, rather than just as disjointed parts. And he could see what Logan was doing: spreading jelly on a slice of toast. So that was what Remus was on, another toast. Remus smiled. Toast was good. He could work with toast.

The ground rumbled under him, and moments later, the air vibrated with sound Remus could not understand. He sharpened his ears just in time to see Logan look up from his toast and say, "Hi, Princey."

Remus looked, peering through the distance. Yes, there, like a moving mountain, was his brother.

"Snack break?" Logan continued, and Roman echoed it.

Roman continued to move around the kitchen, his footfalls shaking the counter and Remus's slice of toast like an earthquake. Remus ignored him, simply watching Logan as he began to eat the slice of toast in his hand. At this scale, Remus could see every minute motion, every twitch of every muscle in Logan's face and throat as he chewed and swallowed. And in just a few minutes, that would be Remus in there. He could scarcely wait.

After a while, Logan spoke again. "Want some toast?" Almost as if in slow motion, he reached down, toward Remus.

"No!" Remus cried, but nobody could hear him.

Logan's fingers slid under one edge of the toast, tipping it up. Remus fell over on his back and could only stare up at the ceiling as his world rushed upward. It stopped, and for a moment, there was silence. Remus hoped his brother would turn the offer down, but he knew it was not to be. Roman's gigantic voice rumbled through the air.

"Is that Crofter's?"

Logan replied, but Remus was too busy pouting to care what he said. He folded his arms, scowling up at the sky. Well, up at the ceiling. But it was far enough away that it was basically the sky. A tiled, grey sky.

The ground beneath him moved again, and Remus didn't have to look to know that he'd been handed over. There was a crunch, somewhere to his right, and when Remus turned his head to look, he saw that an entire corner of the slice of toast he lay on was missing, bitten off by his enormous brother.

"I wanted Logan to eat me," Remus muttered crossly. First the bellybutton thing, now this. Would Logan please stop accidentally backfiring Remus's vore pranks?

Roman took another gigantic bite, and Remus flipped him the bird. Next moment, everything shook, and if Remus wasn't already lying on his back, he would have fallen over again. After a few seconds, it stilled again. Remus sat up, looking around. Not much had changed. Roman was still holding him. Off in the far distance, Remus could see Logan, eating the other slice of toast. Remus made a rude gesture at him as well for good measure.

Not that either of them even noticed. Remus, covered from head to toe in Logan's Crofter's and smaller than a grain of rice, was indistinguishable from any other tiny bump in the jelly spread neatly across the slice of toast. If he got to his feet and jumped around and waved his arms and yelled, while they looked at his exact position, then maybe they'd see him, but as it was, he was as good as invisible.

Their conversation rumbled on overhead, but Remus didn't care enough to listen to what they were saying, allowing their words to become nothing more than meaningless thunderous noises, as though he was out in a storm.

Gradually, Roman ate the slice of toast Remus sat upon, his enormous perfect teeth tearing through it like it was nothing. For a while, Remus scowled at nothing, grumpily crossing his arms again, but eventually he decided that he may as well eke out what enjoyment he could, even if the plan had gone sideways.

That in mind, Remus turned and made himself comfortable, lying on his back so that he could easily look up at his brother. This was a splendid low angle; in addition to being able to see up his nose, Remus had a good view of the underside of Roman's princely jaw, which moved up and down as he chewed, and the whole of Roman's throat was on display before him. Roman swallowed his mouthful, and Remus watched as his adam's apple bobbed with the motion.

Roman lifted him again, cavernous mouth opening wide. Just the motion was enough to give Remus that delightful sensation of his stomach being left behind, but then he realized that Roman was about to eat the part of the toast on which Remus lay, and his heart jumped excitedly into his throat.

Roman’s teeth soared past overhead, and then they started to come down again, cutting out the light. Remus sat up, twisting to see as they came down in front of him, separating the bite of toast, with Remus on it, from the rest of the bread. Remus grinned. Now the really fun part could start! With a flick of his fingers, he made a light. Small enough that Roman and Logan wouldn’t notice it, even if Roman talked with his mouth full, but big enough that Remus could see what was happening.

Roman pulled the piece of toast further into his mouth with his tongue, moving it almost immediately to the side, between his molars. They crunched together right in front of Remus, crushing the middle of the toast between them. When they separated again, all that was left was crumbs. A moment later, Roman’s lower jaw lifted again, pulverizing the crumbs even smaller between his teeth, from the size of boulders to about the size of Remus himself. The crumbs were getting soggy, too, and they stuck together.

Roman’s jaw dropped away, but the ground under Remus rose, carrying him away from the gigantic molars. Remus twisted just in time to see the other side of his little toast island get crushed between Roman’s teeth on the other side of his mouth. Another bite, and his island grew even smaller. Then it was Remus’s turn. He looked up, seeing the bumpy ceiling of a single molar above him, and had just enough time to feel his heart skip a beat in pure, beautiful terror, before he swept up toward it.

The force of Roman’s bite forced him flat on his back. It crushed him into the jelly, and it squeezed every last breath of air from his lungs. His light appeared to wink out for a second. Then he dropped again, falling away on a bed of broken crumbs. They shifted under him, so that he rolled onto his front. Then, up once more, pinned between Roman’s molars with a force that would have killed anyone who wasn’t imaginarily indestructible.

This time, when Roman’s teeth separated, Remus saw the lower one drop away beneath him. He blinked in confusion. That wasn’t right…

One more chew, crushing Remus between his teeth again, and then Roman swallowed. He swallowed his entire mouthful, all of the pulverized crumbs tumbling down his throat… except for Remus. Remus remained, stuck, wedged inside a crevice in Roman’s tooth.

And there he remained, as Roman ate the entire rest of his slice of toast. After a few bites, Remus grew bored. It had been far more interesting before, watching the untamable force of Roman’s jaw at work all around him. Now all he could see was the piston-like motion below him, teeth moving up and down in a predictable motion. He wriggled, trying to free himself, but he was stuck fast.

Remus pouted. He’d have crossed his arms, but one was pinned to his side.

Finally, Roman stopped. He appeared to be done eating, because his lower teeth stilled, almost close enough for Remus to reach out and touch them. He could not tell how long they stayed like that, beyond that it was long enough for him to get even more bored.

Eventually, though, they dropped away again, and Roman's mouth was illuminated with light from the outside. Instead of more food, however, Remus’s vision was filled with something pink. He realized what it was a second before it squished against him: Roman’s tongue. The huge muscle slid across Remus’s body, then returned to prod at him again. Roman must have noticed he was there! Though he probably thought Remus was just a seed or something, stuck in his teeth. The tongue poked and prodded at Remus for several moments before finally managing to pry him out of the crevice. 

Free at last! Remus felt like cheering.

The tongue dropped, Remus along with it. It continued to move him around Roman’s mouth at a dizzying pace, and Remus slid uncontrollably around on it. Then, suddenly, he was rushing down the center of Roman’s tongue, falling down his throat, and he was swallowed.

At Remus's current size, his brother's throat seemed to be a mile long. Remus had always thought that being swallowed was the best waterslide in existence, and being swallowed at this size was even better. He zipped down Roman's throat, sliding down the slick muscled side, nearly at a freefall. He whooped in delight.

Remus landed with a splash in Roman’s stomach. His light had followed him down, so Remus was well able to see. Treading stomach acid, he looked around. The toast that had preceded him was soggy and half digested. Some still floated on the surface, but most had become waterlogged and sunk. “Aww!” Remus complained. “I wanted to watch!”

Almost as if in answer, the space around him trembled. Remus looked up just in time to see the clenched opening at the top of Roman’s stomach stretch open. A bunch of chewed up brown and red… stuff… squeezed through. Remus grinned in satisfaction. Roman must have gotten another slice of toast. Remus was in for a good show.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d stick around. It was far easier to stave off boredom in an active stomach than in a jar, or sitting on a slice of toast, or stuck to a tooth. He’d probably watch everything dissolve around him, and after that… well, Remus had never been this small inside a stomach before, but he thought he might be able to fit through the opening into the intestines. It might be fun to follow Roman’s meal further, see what happened to it as it went along.

[apr1cots]

(much less) sadboy sirius, pt 3

Remus couldn't put down the book he was reading, completely engrossed in the story when something roughly slammed into his thigh. Well, someone… Sirius had landed on the couch with his head on Remus’ lap, after bolting through the common room at the speed of the Hogwart’s express. Remus managed to completely ignore him, focusing intently on not looking up from the page he was reading. Sirius didn't appreciate this, nudging into Remus’ hip insistently. It wasn't until he solidly, but gently, bit into Remus’ hipbone that Remus started to pay attention.

“Ow! What the hell, Sirius,” he grumbled.

Sirius immediately withdrew, his eyes widening. Remus hadn't called him Padfoot. “I’m sorry, Rem, did that actually hurt?” It hadn’t, Sirius had adopted many doggy senses in his time as Padfoot, and while Remus would never, ever admit it, he loved when Sirius bit him lightly. It was an unconscious effort to mark his territory and express his love. It established trust.

Mostly it was just hot.

But, he had interrupted, so Remus just humphed impatiently and turned back to his book.

More lightly this time, but still territorially, Sirius began to bite from Remus’ hipbone, up his side, tapping intermittently with his nose. Without thinking about it, Remus found his hand in Sirius’ mane. He was met with a growl of approval. “Stop acting like a dog,” Remus insisted, not sparing Sirius a glance.

“C’mon Moons, we’re the only ones in hereeeee” Sirius whined. Remus glanced up to affirm this, but he wasn't ready to let Sirius win, even if it meant ignoring the awful, delightful swooping sensation in his stomach. So, he continued reading. Then, without warning, Sirius transformed into Padfoot right there on the couch.

“Sirius!” Remus hissed, dropping his book this time. “We are in the COMMON ROOM! TRANSFORM BACK IMMEDIATELY… anyone could see you!” He lowered his voice to a whisper, terrified to attract attention. (As though the empty common room would be anymore shocked to hear him yell than to see a giant black dog sniffing the prefect.)

Padfoot nudged under Remus’ recently freed hands, begging for physical affection. Remus miraculously resisted, instead grabbing hold of the hair atop Padfoot’s head rather tightly. 

“No. You've been a bad dog,” he said shortly. Unfortunately, his words had the opposite of the desired affect, and Padfoot jerked to attention, his ears perking with interest. Remus rolled his eyes. This was hopeless. “Alright, alright, you win. Come back and we can snog” he grumbled, attempting annoyance, but barely biting back a grin.

Padfoot let out a happy bark, and seconds later a very smug Sirius sat next to Remus on the couch. Without any words he cupped both sides of Remus’ jaw with his large, solid hands and leaned in to kiss him. Remus couldn't resist threading his fingers through Sirius hair, which was remarkably similar to Padfoot’s black mangy fur.

When Sirius finally pulled away he pressed his forehead to Remus’, breathing him in with lowered lashes.

Remus felt his breath catch and started to speak before he could stop himself. “Sirius, I have to tell you. I think I l-“ “No!” Sirius cut him off harshly, but didn't break their intimate position.

“But I… it’s been” Remus started to try to explain, but Sirius interrupted him again.

“No, Moon, it’s not that. I just…” this time he did pull away, establishing eye contact. But he quickly blushed and looked down. “It’s just that I have a plan… an image in my head. I know that doesn't sound like me, but I… it’s not that I want to wait, because I know… and I mean, me too,” he grinned then, glancing up at Remus cheekily, “but I… I want it to be perfect. Okay?” He breathed it all out like a weight off his shoulders.

“Actually Pads, I know you very, very well and that sounds exactly like you. No matter how spontaneous you pretend to be.”

And just like that, they were snogging again in the common room.  

***

A week later, Remus had almost confessed his feelings to his boyfriend 37 times. Once while watching him stuff as many pancakes into his mouth as possible and then cry from the effort of not laughing at James’ jokes, once when he fell asleep with his head in Remus’ lap when they were supposed to be doing homework, once when Sirius found his hand under the table at dinner and just squeezed it as tight as possible without missing a beat in his conversation with James, and most intensely when one night, long after the lights had been turned out, Sirius had shaken him awake just to cradle his head and kiss him until he couldn't breath, before returning to his bunk to avoid outing them. It hadn't even been overtly sexual, just an expression of Sirius’ passion that had left Remus with a swirling head and admittedly a bit of a hard on.

But now, Remus stood in front of the castle under the invisibility cloak, per Sirius’ instructions. It was freezing cold and his sweater felt a little too threadbare to make up for it. It was dark enough that no one would be able to see the footsteps appearing beneath him in the snow and he was sure Sirius was disguised as Padfoot. He hated that Sirius put his life on the line wandering around as a giant black dog where anyone could see, and he was currently building up a rather convincing argument as to why it was time for him to interfere when he felt a large black nose sniffing around his feet.

“Hey, hey I'm here” he whispered, failing to keep the affection out of his voice and daring to slip a hand out of the cloak to scratch Padfood on the head.

Padfoot whined his approval and then turned abruptly to trot down the sloping, white hill.

“Hey!” Remus hissed, “I’m not running to keep up with you.” Padfoot barked at him, nothing if not indignant and continued at his quick pace.

Once he was certain Padfoot wasn't watching, Remus hurried along behind him, faster than he would for anyone else.

As they approached the greenhouses, Padfoot took off at a run, disappearing behind Greenhouse 5, leaving Remus to only wonder what he was up to, but by the time he turned the corner, Sirius was standing in front of the door, hair disheveled, wrapped in his favorite leather jacket, wringing his hands in front of him. When Remus pulled the cloak off, he didn't have time to say anything before Sirius pulled him in by the elbow and kissed him square on the mouth. He radiated warmth from running around and smelled absolutely delectable. A dark musk mixed with a sharp cinnamon and the faintest sweet floral scent that made Remus want to growl.

“Ready?” Sirius whispered. “For what?”

Sirius only grinned and turned behind him to open the greenhouse door. It was pitch black until Sirius just waved his wand casually and everything changed. Remus knew that he attended a literal school of witchcraft and wizardry, and was a literal mythical creature, but he had never felt magic touch his heart in quite the same way as in this moment.

Little fairies bobbed around the whole place and hid in the lush greenery all around. Tiny silver bells glittered in the plants and chimed melodically in perfect but toneless harmonies. Mistletoe hung in various places around the room, tied up with thick red ribbon that Sirius seemed to be particularly proud of. Magic snow, much like what often donned the Great Hall fell from the ceiling, but disappeared before it ever hit them or the ground. The scent of pine and Christmas and cookies permeated the air. A magical fire roared in a floating dome above a mess of blankets and pillows in one corner of the greenhouse where a tray of steaming hot chocolate and biscuits lay on fancy-looking china. But, the most magical of all, Sirius stood beaming next to Remus, shifting back and forth on the balls of his feet, barely containing his excitement as he took in Remus’ reaction.

Remus turned to him with his throat starting to close, barely being able to breathe and a moment of uncertainty flickered on Sirius’ face. “Is this okay? Is it not enough? I can… I can try again!! I can try harder. I have other ideas too I was-”

“Hey. Sirius no… this… this is perfect. I don't even know what to say… how did you-” “That’s not important. And I’m glad you think that because this was my best idea of all and I don't know if I could've actually done any better. I just wanted it to be perfect for you because-”

Remus couldn't stop himself from stopping Sirius with a frantic, desperate kiss that expressed everything, but nothing close to enough, all at the same time.

Sirius pulled away and this time he was truly breathless. “Rem, I really can’t wait anymore. I have to tell you. I love you. I’m in love with you. It feels like I’ve been in love with you since the moment I first saw you, and from the moment my soul came into existence, and the moment the world was created, and from this moment for the first time all at once. When I see the stars I think of you. I think of how bright you shine and how proud you make me. When I see tea I think of you. When I see any book I think of you. When I look in the fucking mirror I think of you and of how everything I’m seeing is all yours. Every part of me is yours. The tips of my fingers itch for you whenever we aren't touching. And everything else down to the tips of my toes was created to be one half of a whole and only you can complete me. I couldn't begin to face whatever’s next if you weren't in it. You are every memory that matters and every future I could begin to imagine. You are everything, Moony. You are everything… I never ever want to be apart from you. I want you in every Christmas cookie and tree-decorating and every exciting end of a novel and every summer swim in a lake and everything. I don’t want to live another day without you. It scares the absolute shit out of me that we only have a year and half left here and I know I can’t expect everything to stay the same with James and Pete- they have their own lives to live, but Moons, I want things to stay the same with you. I know I shouldn't be saying this. We haven't been together long and we are really so young, but I know that I will never in a million years be able to feel this much for any other soul. My whole heart is in your hands and it’s your choice what you do with it. I’m sorry if it’s too soon for you, but every time I look at you I’m bursting to tell you. I love you, Remus Lupin and there’s no going back for me.”

“Sirius. Fuck. I love you, too. Of course I do. I’ve loved you my whole life and after last year I fell in so deep and there’s no going back for me either. I didn't have this all scripted out like I know you did-” he didn't allow Sirius to interject when he made a wounded sound, but continued on, “I know you wrote this out a million times in order to woo me and I don't give a fuck it doesn't make it mean any less, so don't protest. I love that about you, you know that Sirius, and I want a future with you a hundred times over. Really, truly, I do. I want you in every possible way. And what you said about your heart, you have mine too. You've had it for an embarrassingly long time and there's no taking it back now. It’s yours, Pads”

[theacerbicprince]

Answering Harry Potter Tag Questions

So my darling @xweofmanyfaces answered this in video form but I don’t do videos because I don’t know how to edit and stuff. Really, all I can do is type and prance so I’m going to type out my answers to these questions. It may be long, I apologise in advance. If there are any other questions you’d like to ask me that I haven’t answered then let me know. 

What house are you in?

I am a Gryffindor which surprised me initially but if I think about it makes a lot of sense because I am very loyal to the people I care about and I don’t think I’m brave but I know people who would disagree with me just based on the challenges in my life. 

What is your Patronus?

My patronus is a white stallion according to pottermore. I read up on what it meant on the lexicon and it was amazing how similar it was to me. 

What is your wand?

My wand, as on pottermore, is Pear wood with phoenix tail feather, 13 and 3 quarter inches, slightly yielding flexibility. According to pottermore, there has never been a recorded instance of a pear wood in possession of a dark witch or wizard. 

Favorite book?

I liked the Deathly Hallows because it gave us so much and it wasn’t as badly paced as some of the other books were and it moved me emotionally, very much so and it revealed so much of my darling boy. 

Least favorite book?

Probably the Chamber of Secrets if I’m honest. 

Favorite movie?

From an aesthetic point of view, the Half Blood Prince. Overall favourite movie in terms of soundtrack is the Deathly Hallows Part 2 but overall, tying everything together would probably have to go to Order of the Phoenix. I live for Imelda Staunton in that movie and ugh, just that bit where Alan manages to inject that much snark and sass and condescension into the one word ‘obviously’. 

Least favorite movie?

Goblet of Fire, I think a lot of people might agree with me on that one, it’s not universally that well received. 

Is there a movie you preferred over the book?

The Chamber of Secrets movie is better than the book for me. I actually feel very emotional about the ending of that movie probably because of Chris Columbus to be honest and some of the shots are amazing and the music too, John Williams excellent. 

Favorite quote?

I love this so, so fucking much. 

“It is good to see that six years of magical education haven’t been wasted on you Potter; ghosts are transparent.” 

Favorite character?

Severus without a shadow of a doubt. He’s my boy even when he’s being a total jackass and he just brings so much joy to me because he makes me laugh so much. 

Least favorite character?

Ron. I hate getting on the ship in that sense but yeah, I don’t like Ron as a character although a lot of that comes from the fact that I just don’t see him ending up with someone like Hermione. This does not mean I don’t want to write with Ron because Molly loves all of her children regardless of their flaws but I don’t personally like him. I like him even less in the movies because they took away some of his kinder, more human moments and he was like 95% jackass. 

Favorite professor?

Minerva is an absolute boss, always, that never changes. She teaches the kids so much and she’s so supportive but at the same time she doesn’t take any shit. I will always have to defer to my home boy though because he’s an amazing teacher even though he is a giant asshole about it. He is multi talented because he can teach more than the one subject and he can teach them well. He fully understands his subjects and he takes them both so seriously, more seriously than his other professors I would say. He doesn’t express it the right way but he cares a lot about the welfare of the students. There’s a reason he loses his shit when Neville fucks up so badly at Potions that Severus is practically apoplectic, because the boy is dangerous and he doesn’t want to be responsible for a death or severe disfigurement. 

Favorite villan?

Bellatrix Lestrange. She’s a great villain in that she is so unstable and you don’t know what she’s going to be doing next really. She is the sort of villain where you are constantly on edge around her and we actually get to see her in action properly and we get a full, real sense of why she’s so terrifying. A lot of that was missing as far as it went for Voldemort because we didn’t get to see much of him or how he earned his reputation. 

Favorite weasley?

Molly, she is my girl but she is also super strong, super loving and she has dealt with so much in her life and so deals with it all with barely any complaint. She is so giving to everyone, she takes everyone in and is so welcoming and approachable and it’s not something that she thinks about doing, it’s just natural to her. 

Favorite marauder?

Remus because he isn’t a giant douche. Remus is also the one that seems more understandable to me. I think we’ve all been there at one point or another where we have seen an injustice and we have to decide what we are going to about it. He didn’t actually want to kill anyone, he didn’t take a savage delight or really any delight in what was going on and he’s apologetic about it. He doesn’t come up with excuses for his actions or lack of actions, he accepts the responsibility of what he’s done. 

Are there any characters you felt differently about in the movies versus the books?

Gilderoy Lockhart and that is just because Kenneth Branagh is just amazing, he is a stunning actor and I admire him greatly as a professional and he made Lockhart far more likeable.I actually enjoyed watching him in the movie whereas I hated reading him in the books. 

Which character do you think you’d have the closest relationship with?

Probably Molly if I’m being honest, we are quite similar in some senses. Severus would struggle to tolerate me but I think he still would put up with me. 

Which class would be your favorite?

I am a huge history fan so yeah, History of Magic would probably be quite high up on my list. I think I’d like DADA too, combat you know. 

What would your boggart be?

My daughter (from my dreams) desperately wanting my attention because she needs me but I’m too out of it to be able to help her, my darling Penny with my health conditions. Oddly specific I know but it is a massive fear. 

What position would you play in Quiddich?

Seeker probably, I have good eyesight and good hearing too. 

Would you be a pure-blood, half-blood or muggle born?

I would be half blood, just makes sense for me. My mother is Scottish and my father is English so it makes sense that I’d be half and half magically. 

What job would you want to have after leaving Hogwarts?

It really depends on what my specialisation would be to be honest. I might teach for a while, I really enjoyed being a tutor (which was my job up until September last year). 

Which of the Deathly Hallows would you choose?

The invisibility cloak. I don’t need great power in my life and my loved ones would drive me insane because I would want to see them so often, to touch them and I couldn’t. The invisibility cloak is remarkably useful. 

Which spell would be the most useful to learn?

A healing spell of some sort, always useful. 

Do you have any unpopular opinions about the series?

MY HOME BOY IS A GOOD MAN! It is not creepy that he was in love with Lily for that whole length of time. Stop having a go at my man, he’s not a creeper. 

Either or/if, would you rather:

Wash Snape’s hair, or listen to Lockhart ranting about himself for a day?

Do you even have to ask that question? I would massage that scalp aaaall day.   

Duel an elated Bellatrix, or an angry Molly?

Angry Molly would be terrifying but an elated Bellatrix is guaranteed to torture me to the point that I am desperately crying out to die. 

Travel to Hogwarts via Hogwarts Express, or a flying car?

Hogwarts Express, you can get up and walk around the train, stretch the legs which is good for me because of my nerve damage and pains in my hips etc. 

Kiss Voldemort or give Umbridge a bubble bath?

Kiss Voldemort, I do not want to see Umbridge naked. 

Ride a Hippogriff or ride a Firebolt?

Probably the Hippogriff, I think it’d be far more comfortable and I could actually talk to the Hipprogriff and not feel like a lunatic. Who talks to their broomstick eh?

Hallows Or Horcruxes?

The horcruxes are a fascinating and interesting concept especially when you look into the whole process and splitting the soul. Is the soul split every time that you kill? 

If you could own one of the three Hallows, which one would it be and why?

Invisibility cloak, this was addressed earlier. 

If you could bring one character back to life, who would it be?

This motherfucking question right here. I’ve been thinking about this question for hours, honest to Lords hours. You’d think I would want to bring Severus back to life but there is one person in particular who comes to mind because it’s just so tragic and I would want to change it so badly and that is Tonks. I want Teddy to grow up with his mother and Andromeda to not have to deal with the loss of her daughter as well as her husband. 

[hurt-care]

This might be out of place, but... I just thought of Victorian werewolves, and rose fever, and... Aaaaaaa

This was a fun one :) This is an 1880s AU for Remus/Sirius. Enjoy!

-

Lord Black had invited the mysterious young groom to work in the stables in exchange for room and board in the servant's quarters at first, but in a few months that arrangement had changed. The young man had turned out to possess a charming intellect and within a few weeks had talked his way into Lord Black's bedroom. Then came the truly shocking revelation: their shared shapeshifting ability. While Lord Black had inherited his family's estate and their genetic ability to morph into a canine form at will, the groom had a decidedly less remarkable gift: Remus Lupin was a werewolf.

The revelation had come late one afternoon when Lord Black stood in the doorway of the barn and had tried in vain to seduce Lupin to come upstairs that evening. Lupin had seemed irritable and looked markedly unwell. He was already aware of Lord Black's affiliation with occult magic and the art of witchcraft, so he'd revealed his affliction with only slight hesitation. The reason he'd been reticent to agree to the invitation was that the evening in question was the full moon and he'd need to be secluded in the extensive forests behind the estate, far from any humans that he might be tempted to bite.

In canine form, Lord Black was not human. And thus began a companionship of wolf and dog romping in the woods during the full moon.

June marked the sixth month of Lupin's stay at the Grimmauld Estate and his fourth full moon alongside Lord Black. Before dusk, the two men began the long walk into the deep forests. Lord Black kept a steady pace, his walking cane swinging with each brisk stride. Lupin struggled to keep up as his body began the preparations for the transformation.

“Can you slow a little?” he asked breathlessly. “I'm sorry, but I tire easily on these days.”

“Of course,” Lord Black said. “My apologies. I'm used to my country walks for my health. They say it is best if you keep up a vigorous speed. But we'll go slower.”

Lupin smiled wanly.

“Thank you,” he said. “I appreciate it. We can go a little faster after moon rise.”

“I do live for the chase,” Lord Black replied with a laugh. “It's regrettable that you do not remember the adventures we have. It's great fun romping through the woods with you.”

He leaned over and kissed the groom on the cheek. Lupin blushed and shrugged.

“I have no memories of it,” he said. “It is indeed too bad. But I'm glad it's amusing for you.”

“Do you think we're far enough in?” Lord Black asked as they reached a small break in the trees.

“Yes, this should do,” said Lupin, looking around and surveying the area. “Will you do your check?”

“Of course.”

Lord Black hung his long travelling coat over a tree branch and then stepped forward into the cleaning, drawing a large circle on the ground with his walking stick. He traced several lines through the circle, forming triangles, and then stepped into the middle of it with his palms outstretched. He muttered a chant under his breath, closing his eyes in concentration. After a moment, he stepped back out of the circle and nodded to Lupin.

“No other souls within any discernible distance,” he reported. “You'll be safe.”

“Good,” Lupin said wearily, tugging off his own coat and hanging it up. With fumbling hands, he started to unbutton his waistcoat.

“Help me?” he asked.

Lord Black took over the undressing, unfastening the buckles and buttons until the young groom stood naked in the cleaning. Lord Black folded the clothing and stowed it in the hollow of a tree.

“It's nearly time,” Lupin said shakily. “Change now.”

There was suddenly a large black dog where the Lord had stood only moments before. It circled once around the naked man and gently nudged Lupin's leg with its nose. Lupin shivered and fell to his knees as the moon rose in the sky. He spasmed and screamed out a desperate cry of pain. The dog whimpered and nudged him again but there was no man there any more. A wolf stood and bared its teeth, ready for the chase.

The two canines raced through the trees, yipping and howling in delight, running kilometres around the vast lands of the estate. They rolled in the grass and scratched at the trunks of trees and wrestled until they both lay panting from exertion on the soft forest floor.

When the moon finally began to dip low in the sky again, they ended up in a meadow filled with lacy white flowers and tall yellow-flowered weeds. The wolf dropped to its haunches and howled in misery as the change took over. A moment later, Lupin lay naked on the ground.

Lord Black transformed back and rushed to his side, helping the man to sit up.

“Are you hurt?” he asked softly, examining the groom's body. He could see no visible injuries.

“No,” Lupin croaked. “Just sore. I—hehh....eh-TSGHT!”

He shuddered with a sneeze that he caught with the back of a wrist.

“Blessings!” Lord Black exclaimed.

Huhhh-ETSCHH!

Lupin snapped forward again, sneezing even more forcefully.

“Have you caught a chill, dear man?” Lord Black asked, concerned.

The groom rubbed his nose and took a loud sniff.

“No,” he said. “I'm well, thanks.”

Lupin stood up on shaky legs and Lord Black extended a hand to help steady him.

“I don't think we're far from where we stowed your clothes,” he said confidently. “Are you alright to walk a little ways?”

“I think so,” Lupin said, but he was wavering on his feet. He turned his head away from Lord Black and sneezed violently into his own shoulder.

Hurh-TSGHT!

“I'm sorry,” he apologized, sniffling again. “You don't happen to have a handkerchief on you?”

“Of course,” said Lord Black, withdrawing the fine silk one from his breast pocket. “Here, love.”

Lupin took it and pressed it to his nose, catching another wrenching sneeze.

Eh-tshGHGHTT!

This one seemed to unleash a volley and suddenly Lupin's hand was gripping Lord Black's arm tightly to keep himself upright.

Hurhh-tsGHGHTT! Eh-TSXHT! Hehh...ehh-TSXHTTT! Tsh'GHXT!

“Goodness, dear man!” Lord Black exclaimed. “Are you sure you're not unwell?”

“It's the flowers, sir,” Lupin said miserably. “You've heard of the rose---ehh....heh-TSGHTT! Excuse me...you've heard of the rose cold?”

“Oh dear,” Lord Black replied. “I have. Lord Potter at Elmswood suffers so terribly that he must go to a mountain retreat during the warmer months.”

“I react poorly to some vegetation,” Lupin explained. “Thus far I've been well at Grimmauld but with the warmer weather and ....ahh....heh-TSGHHT!With the warmer weather I was afraid I might have a reaction.”

“We must get you back to the house at once, then!” Lord Black said sympathetically. “No need to get upset.”

“I'm not..?” Lupin began but then he realized his eyes were weeping. “Oh, no, I'm not upset. It swells my eyes terribly too. They itchy furiously.”

He rubbed at one of them and frowned.

“I see they've already begun to weep.”

“Oh that's dreadful,” Lord Black said, gently reaching out to thumb away a tear from the man's cheek.

“Sorry, I--” Lupin stammered, turning away and burying his nose into the handkerchief. “Hehh-tsh-GHSHT! Heh-TSXHT! Ngh'TSH! TSGH! Hehh....ehhh...hehhh....oh goodness it's stuck...”

He wavered with the cloth pressed to his nose and his breath shuddering rapidly.

Lord Black put an arm around Lupin's shoulders and they began a slow, staggering walk back to the clearing where they'd stowed the coats and Lupin's clothing. Every so often they were forced to pause for Lupin to continue the sneezing fit until it tapered back to what seemed like endless hitching and sniffling.

When they finally reached the cleaning, poor Lupin was nearly blind with his swollen eyes and Lord Black simply got him into his coat and boots, promising some more comfortable garments once they reached the estate. Lupin, too congested and uncomfortable to care, put on the coat and allowed it to be buttoned up to protect his modesty during the walk back.

They reached the back of the estate a half-hour later and Lupin was breathing heavily, struggling to get air through his clogged nose and struggling not to cough through his dry and itchy throat. Lord Black escorted him upstairs and settled him into the master bedroom, tucking him up into his own bed and ringing for the servants.

The afternoon was a slow, steady decrease in sneezes as Lupin rested with a cool cloth over his swollen eyes. When he could finally stop sneezing long enough to fall asleep, he passed out into restful slumber with Lord Black keeping watch. When he woke several hours later to the man still sitting nearby, he smiled and thanked him.

“Oh it's no trouble at all,” Lord Black insisted. “I'd rather you be comfortable and get well again. And you know what?”

“What?” Lupin asked.

“We'll try to avoid that clearing next time, okay?”

Lupin smiled and nodded.

“That would be lovely, sir.”

[mason-mem]

more pages of Serres’ Malfeasance

FROM LANDSCAPE TO COUNTRY

From tribe to homeland, from the rustic farm to cities, and from these to nations. The latter sometimes revere the tomb of an unknown soldier, not so much to remember the horrors of war, as the inscriptions claim— it would be better to forget those—but to bow before the vile remains that sanction the urban or national appropriation of the soil. My book Statues and Robert Harrison's The Dead develop this insight at great length. Leland Stanford built our campus on top of the remains of his beloved son, just as Romulus built the eternal city on the corpse of his brother.

Millions of young people, whose remains rest in military cemeteries, in the shadow of bronze statues erected for the foul glory of the very people (were they clueless or criminal?) who sacrificed them, marked with their blood, their corpses the nation's property. Born on the soil of their nation, they died on it and for it, and now they sleep in it.

THE LITTLE-KNOWN MEANING OF A FEW WORDS

I have briefly described actual individual or collective behaviours, without paying much attention to the words I use such as clean or one's own, place or location. Let me start then by clarifying the meaning of some of the terms signifying property. Note: the verb "to have" in Latin has the same origin as to inhabit. From the mists of time, our languages echo the profound relation between the nest and appropriation, between the living space and possession: I inhabit, therefore I have.

Appartenir4 comes from ad-per-tinere, which means to hold or to be linked to. The English words tenure and tenant also describe an inhabitant who dwells. We hold on to our habitat; we value it. To inhabit is to have. The relation between "appertain to" and "apartment" is similar; they imply the grip, the solid link I have just mentioned between the body and its nest, between life and place, which is the very subject of this book. From the Latin ligare (to bind) come the words ob-ligation, re-ligion, neg-ligence ... all links that bind one to a reference, a point, or a place. I belong to a space where such-and-such a place belongs to me.

What do we mean by the French word for place, lieut Its magnificent and little-known etymology, the Latin locus, refers to the sexual and genital organs of the woman: vulva, vagina, and uterus. Sic loci muliebres, ubi nascendi initia consistent (woman's places, where the beginnings of birth are situated;5 Ernout and Meil-let, Dictionnaire e'tymologique de la langue latine, Paris, Klincksieck, 1885, p. 364b; I quote this in passing as ev­idence for readers who might think I am fantasizing). The word topos (rojiog), which expresses in Greek the same meaning, of course preceded the Latin and refers to the same delights. We have all inhabited the matrix, the first place, for nine months; all of us were born by going through the vaginal canal, and a good half of us seek to return to the original vulva. The lover says to his loved one: "You are my home," the neonatal place, of birth and desire. It is our first place, warm, humid, and intimate.

The term lodging, of a different, Germanic origin (Laube, entrance hall) leaves the Latin tenancy behind and signifies a hasty construction of leaves, for instance a tent, called in Latin tabernaculum. The Jewish religion celebrates this mobile habitat every year, pitched here and there, as in the desert of the Exodus; here we have a nomadic tent that looks like a rental. I'll come back to this.

With reference to sites that are outside the body, our language says "here lies" for the place where our ancestors rest; I am coming back now to consider the country and the aforementioned landscape. In Egypt, in the City of the Dead in Cairo, the poor have invaded a huge cemetery where they haunt the graves; it is a necropolis, a metropolis. There I understood that the first house was built near the tomb of the loved one whom the poor wretch did not want to leave. The here of the "here lies" did not in fact designate the funeral site; on the contrary, it signalled that there is no place other than the site rooted in those bodies. The site does not indicate death; death designates the site, and often its limits. This is another inevitable link.

Ultimately, here we lie down, to sleep, to love, to give birth, to suffer and die. We return to etymology: the French verb coucher comes from col-locare, to sleep in the same spot, to share a location. The original vulva, the final tomb . . . this third location designates the bed, the pallet, precisely the place to be born and die, but also to sleep, copulate, be ill, rest, dream. . . .

My very language displays the three themes of this book, which proposes that there are at least three fundamental sites: the uterus, the bed, and the grave. Do we really know what we are saying? To inhabit therefore haunts the nests needed in moments of weakness and fragility, the embryonic state, the risk of being born, the infant at the breast, the caress in the amorous offering, sleep, peace, rest. . . requiescat in pace: fetal life, the love act, the darkness of the tomb, the horizontality of night.

Everything else—the ability to cope with daily life and standing on your own two feet, economic or culinary activities, public comedy, politics, the heat and cold of the desert—depends on those intimate necessities that bind us to our nests with the strongest possible links. Exposed to space, our strength emerges from our weaknesses that lie in those places from which they spring forth. The primary need: to live here. To inhabit, to have; how to describe the strength of the link that unites them? He who lacks a "here" where he can lie down does not have the strength to stand up for very long.

These words do not refer solely to spaces occupied by humans, for let me remind you of the real origin: every living being takes refuge in such nests and emerges from them. Oysters and clams, titmice and wasps, hares and moles, boars, chamois, izzards ... all inhabit a shell, hive, nest or burrow, wallow, shed, as I have mentioned before. And so plants grow in sites where the altitude reproduces the cold or heat of their latitude. Here is the proof: when their environment changes, either they die or they must go to hothouses, hotels protected by a glass roof that imitates the effect known by that name. Anthropomorphism aside, let us then consider those places as slices of inhabitable space, a division practised also by animals, vegetables, algae, and mushrooms and even by monocellular beings ... a division that is generally necessary for life to continue. Apart from our maps, land registries, or nautical charts, we could imagine many more such vital divisions.

Let us return to humans. What happens when this nest, this place, is lost? Again, on this point our language is quite precise. The person whose pecuniary resources are dwindling is called poor, the famished deprived even of bread are indigent; those who roam without a roof, without a place, are miserable. Human misery marks the limit of possible life. Those who have a place have. Those who have no place have nothing, strictly speaking. Do they still exist? They have fallen below the level of animals. I will return to this subject in the end.

THE NATURAL FOUNDATION OF PROPERTY RIGHT

Necessary for survival, the act of appropriation seems to me to have an animal origin that is ethological, bodily, physiological, organic, vital . . . and not to originate in some convention or positive right. I sense there a collection of urine, blood, excretions, rotting corpses. . . . Its foundation comes from the body, alive or dead. I see those actions, behaviours, postures as sufficiently vital and common to all living beings to call them natural. Here natural right precedes positive or conventional right. Rousseau is wrong when he writes, "The first who after enclosing a piece of land thought of saying 'This is mine' and found people simple enough to believe him was the real founder of civil society."6 Describing an imaginary act, he proposes a conventional foundation of property right. A few centuries before him, Livy, in the first book of his Roman History, might have said more concretely: "The first, Romulus, who having enclosed a piece of land by plowing a furrow around Rome, and thought of saying 'this is mine,' found no one to believe him, but on the contrary found a twin brother, a rival, a competitor, someone with the same desire . . . and opposed him." Livy understood this sudden jealous reaction quite well and ascribed it to a double, a twin. Romulus therefore killed Remus, who had turned up so conveniently, and hastened to bury him under the walls of the city, which made him its founder, owner, master, and king. The bloody remains of his crime polluted the earth he thus appropriated, according to what I have just called the natural or living law. Romulus remained faithful to the wolves that reared him. Although from a historical perspective it is just as wrong as Rousseau's tale, the Latin historian's account expresses an anthropological truth that refers to bestial customs described in ethology; these customs are still obvious to the passer-by on streets full of dog piss.

I foresee that laws emerging from animal life and behaviours will slowly but surely wrench themselves away, break loose, and free themselves from their origins. They may finally forget their origins to give birth to a set of conventions or cultural legislations. The so-called natural law becomes, little by little, positive.

How? In two ways: first, by changing the most horrifying practices, such as crimes, violent invasions, stinking trash . . . and evolving toward what I call soft signs, and finally by freeing itself from those marks. This is the theme of my book.

BLOOD, CORPSES:

PEASANT AND SACRIFICIAL CUSTOMS

Most of the rituals performed in antiquity, throughout what was called, erroneously or out of ignorance, the inhabited world, revered the gods pertaining to the cult of ancestors. Fustel de Coulanges describes this in his book The Ancient City. Sacred was the name of the Earth that they walked on, haunted, and cultivated; sacred because it contained the historical remains of descendants buried there. The cultivated Earth, the pagus, from the tilled plot of land, owned by the descendants of the ancestors buried there, was the origin of the pagan religion, as the term itself indicates. The domestic altars bring into the household the remnants of the dead and the gods of the pagus. In the second generation, Numa, the successor of the founding king Romulus, becomes a priest instead and establishes the rites in question. On the heels of the first murder come religions.

THE HISTORY OF RELIGIONS: A HORRIBLE TRAIL

When I read the pious Virgil or the divine Homer, I count the enormous number of sacrifices offered by kings, warriors, priests, and travellers. First of all, there was Iphigenia, killed for wind;7 next the children of Athens, devoured by the Minotaur; they precede the bulls, pigs, calves, heifers, and kids whose throats are cut on the altar stone. The suovetaurilia sacrifice multiplies the mass graves of animals; holocausts burn all their limbs. Disgusted by the bloody trail whose abomination abundantly soiled the space they traversed, I track the travels of those ancient heroes: slimy, unpleasant trails. . . . What smells of burned flesh, which bone yards did they leave behind? Did they know that their passage was marked by garbage of whose function they might have been unaware? They were purifying, so they said. . . .

I must really translate into Latin Rousseau's saying, even though he is plenty Roman already. In that language, "The first who enclosed a piece of land," the word lustrare is used specifically; it means to travel all over a place, go around its periphery, circle it, inspect it. The same word for closure also means to clean, to purify. This purification occurs through sacrifice; is this bloodshed used to clean, or to soil? The victim to be bled is led around the object to be cleansed, surrounds it and confines it as it passes by; and so the oxen turned around the altar before dying. With this ritual and sacrifice, lustration becomes both spatial and bloody. This plot of land full of blood and hideous limbs appeared pure to the ancients, while to me it looks soiled, dripping with suffering, reeking of a foul stench. They called it enclosed, and I say appropriated: a bloody appropriation on top of corpses.

The first who bled a child or a pig after having led him around such a spot, and flooded this spot with the blood of the victim, succeeded in enclosing it and made it into a temple. Let me now give a Greek translation. Belonging to the same family as lobo-tomy or a-tom, the word repivd) (temno) in Greek means to cut. Just so, the term temple means the closure of a place that is sometimes sacred, sometimes profane. Translated into French, it becomes cloitre (cloister). Translated into Polynesian, "here" is taboo, elsewhere, yours. When you go to a Pacific island you will see the word taboo in large letters on the signs indicating private property. Don't enter here, this place belongs to someone. Another enclosure. When in ancient times the human or animal sacrifice flooded the altar, the temple, or the square with the victim's blood, the horrible outflow marked in red the place of the god. Or that of the hero: Remus' blood spreads over Romulus' Rome. It is his. Blood signals the inner space. No one has the right to enter this templum tabu, this taboo temple. Do you want to desecrate it? Well then, soil it! The "natural" foundation of property right is followed by the religious foundation. Yes, Numa succeeds Romulus.

Finally, nothing is shut more tightly than the temple of Vesta, located long ago in the Forum in Rome. A round structure, it admitted only chaste priestesses. In the back, a small door opened up through which the vestals regularly expelled the ashes of their pure and perpetual fire. They called it the stercorian door— in other words, the anus. As we know, the word stercus _ means excrement; the (scatological) term scoria says the same thing in Greek and Latin. Situated outside the city that Romulus appropriated in earlier times, the temple threw its refuse into the city. Thus they signaled the boundaries of the temple.

After urine, blood. And after blood, we have ashes. After nature, after the paganism of the pagus, we have polytheism. TWO ENDINGS OF RELIGIOUS FOUNDATION

Here is the first example of a softening, a first narrative of liberation. We no longer realise what upheaval was introduced, at least among European peoples, by their progressive conversion to Christianity around the first century of our era. Suddenly, a conversion. As I reread the old Latin of the mass, I remember the lavabo} When I was an altar boy, I gave the priest the water for purification—not blood, but water. Not blood, but wine. The priest, his hands under the flow of water, recites the ninth verse of psalm 26: "Lord, do not let my mind or my life perish among men of blood" . . . cum viris sanguinum. . . . Of course, I will no longer kill a human being or an animal as sacrifices; nothing is taboo any more. There will be nothing sacred, only what is holy. Nothing dirty is left, only what is clean and proper. At the altar as at the hotel? There is no more property?

Here we have another conversion. This Holy Land, no longer sacred but holy, we will no longer tread on, no longer work it either by hand or by plough. We will barely inhabit it because it no longer lies here; it takes place somewhere else, far away, toward Jerusalem and Bethlehem and the rising Sun, the birthplace of Abraham, Sarah, the Holy Virgin, and the Messiah, all men and women who will never appear in our genealogies. Our very earth has been desecrated, or rather secularised; in other words, it has become ordinary, analogous to any other, plunged into a homogeneous and isotropic space. Lying before us passively, the earth has even become objectified . . . objectifiable. Hence our sciences will be able someday to study it, observe it, and measure it.

A very few of us will get to know this Holy Land, only after a long pilgrimage. Pilgrimage or peregrination is derived from per-ager, to travel to the other field, another agriculture different from mine, which therefore is no longer mine. What is more, this so-called Holy Land no longer harbours any remains of the one who was raised from the dead, leaving his tomb empty, containing neither corpse nor mummy; even better, he is the one whose Ascension—or Assumption in the feminine—we celebrate but whose departure leaves nothing behind on earth. There is nothing there, not the least scrap of cloth, not the smallest relic, not the smallest mark implying a story. Daughter of the religion whose prophecies created history, this religion is based on the life of a person leaving no trace whatsoever that would allow us to infer a history. Ancient history ends here; I'll discuss the end o/geography later.

Called holy before, this Earth now also loses its sacredness because it contains no more remains—no more blood, a little bit of wine; no corpse, no stench, no signs of appropriation any more. It is finally cleansed, finally dis-appropriated, de-territorialized. On the universal face of the world, the grand old Pan, the son of all the dead, is dead. With the resurrection of the new god Jesus Christ, there is no longer any marked place. There is no more space, no more history, no more time.

Our only hope left now is in the heavenly Jerusalem, completely absent from this world. Our world lies elsewhere. The holy land no longer even lies in the Holy Land; it can no longer even be found on earth, henceforth referred to as "here below." Like a dispossessed traveller, wandering and roaming, a transient pilgrim, a tenant, our being is not there; it does not come from there, does not go there, but only passes through.

Here are the new answers to the four classic questions concerning place: neither ubi, nor quo, nor unde, but qua.3 We now have a new spatial, religious, or anthropological foundation for tenancy. No longer is there a here or appropriation; we live as transients or tenants, deprived of a fixed abode.

We can call this the first end of property; it is abstract, theoretical, virtual, whatever you want

IMPURE BLOOD

However, here is evidence of a regression at least from this achievement. Indeed we have a second narrative, or second example, to the contrary; the homeland of the Marseillaise10 with its soiled and dirty furrows, soaked (hence appropriated) by the impure blood of its enemies, reveals an anthropological or even animal, and in any case racist, regression toward the archaic pagus. Do you dare to tell me, privately or in any other way, who has impure blood? Do they know what the French are saying? At the top of their voices, they sing this national anthem; what it signifies takes them back even before antiquity, indeed toward those archaic rites whose gestures again mimicked the bestial behaviors of hyenas and jackals. This represents two regressions at the same time. Dirtied by blood, this country belongs to them. Buried under the furrows, the dead by the millions found the homeland, sufficiently soiled by their own pure blood and by the impure blood of their enemy brothers; and so appropriation, twice founded, has returned.

The national anthem becomes a religious hymn, although archaic, falling short of Christianity with its discreet monotheism. But be assured; our fellow citizens belt it out only at trivial encounters, sporting events in the past and today at media or financial gatherings. Like victory, the terrain changes hands with each match and every half-time. It is paid in rent.

4. In English "to belong," but also "to appertain to."

5. Varro, On the Latin Language, vol. 14 (http://www.archive.org/stream/ onlatinlanguageoivarruoft/onlatinlanguageoivarruoft_djvu.txt).

6. Discourse on Inequality, second part, beginning (rendered by translator).

7. A pun in French: pour du vent, "for wind," referring to the ancient Greek myth. Iphigenia is to be sacrificed in order to appease Artemis, who stopped the wind from blowing; this was preventing Agamemnon, who had offended the deity, from travelling to Troy. The colloquial expression c'est du vent means "it is just hot air."

8. From the Latin verb lavare, "to wash."

9. Ubi, quo, unde, and qua are Latin adverbs related to places. They refer to the sentence above, "Our being is not there, it does not come from there, does not go there, but only passes through"

10. The French national hymn, La Marseillaise, is a call to arms to the French to "drench the furrows with the impure blood of the enemy."

and for the  chaverim

[theminiummark]

Fic Recs

I have always read a lot. For the last 9 ish years, a vast majority of what I read for pleasure is fanfiction. This week, I wanted to actually track what I read that was good and bookmarked them. And now, I’ll share what I thought was worth reading in the last week. Some different stuff, and I hope you find some good things to read as well!

Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of | by sanctuary for all | 6.7K - Teen and Up Audiences. Fandom: Hawaii 5-O Summary: Most people – the sane people – said that soulmates were a myth.(AU with spoilers for season 1.)  - I really enjoyed this take on the Soulmate AU. It was heartbreaking and very real, and I love how this author portrays both Steve and Danny. 

I like the way your clothes smell | by Mysectretfanmoments | 75.2K - Not Rated. Fandom: Haikyuu!!! Summary:  Power outages, ghost stories, and the presence of a certain orange-haired boy lead to bad decision-making on Tobio's part. He'd planned to keep his crush a secret; the universe has other plans. - This was really adorable. I actually started listening to the podfic, then finished this fic and it’s sequel by reading. I LOVED Hinata in this, and Kageyama was also delightful. The length of this fic was amazing, and the author does a fantastic job of building tension while also moving the plot along. Recommend the fic, sequel, and podfic. 

the golden age of something good | by @somehowunbroken​ | 36K - Teen and Up Audiences. Fandom: Hockey RPF Summary:  Dylan Strome has little in common with the eligible gentlemen of London society. His famous father made his fortune hunting archaeological treasures, and Dylan's rustic upbringing has left him ill-prepared for a life of parties and frippery. But when his father and two brothers go missing, Dylan must embrace the unknown. Armed with only the short list of highborn men who'd backed his father's venture, he poses as a young man looking for a wealthy husband. He doesn't intend to find one. - Listen, if you haven’t read more of somehowunbroken’s hockey RPF or other fics, I can’t rec them enough. I am always so giddy to read something of their’s, that I usually can’t wait to read them. This is actually the second time reading this particular fic, and it really is a great read. Engaging and fast paced, with an intriguing plot. 

a life of smoke and silvered glass | by dirgewithoutmusic | 27.8K - General Audiences. Fandom: Harry Potter Summary: The door thudded open and the Marauders burst in, late and pink-cheeked with cold. The headmaster smiled at them, too, and Sirius gave a cheery little salute back.Severus sunk lower in his chair, staring witheringly over his butterbeer. "You told Potter about it, too?""He might as well put all that energy to good use," said Lily. "And, to be accurate, I told Remus.""But Potter, really?" said Severus."He and Black cooked up a jinx that gives you a boil every time you say a slur to a Muggleborn," said Lily. "It was either invite them to Alice's war club or bake them cookies, and I know where my skills lie."Severus sniffed. "Don't come crying to me if he tugs your pigtails.""Come crying to me if he pulls yours, and I'll deck him," said Lily.(Slight AU in which Severus apologizes, tries harder, and stays friends with Lily) - I am not really in the Harry Potter fandom as much these days, but goodness knows that will change when my daughter is a bit older. This was a good exploration into what if Snape made a different choice, and I enjoyed exploring that along with this author. 

ebony & ivory | by wbtrashking (fan_nerd) | 20K - Explicit. Fandom: Yuri on Ice. Summary: Yuuri jumps when someone hurries into the elevator, apologizing profusely.The apartment complex is full of eccentrics, seeing as it's only a few miles from the artistic center of town. It isn't the first time that the concert pianist has run into someone who's late for work, fussing with their hair, or adjusting the lapels of a suit. Yuuri taps out a rhythm to fill the silence, something original.When he sees the silver-haired man pull out a notebook, he recognizes the handwriting. Notes had been slipped under his door in that loopy script for weeks now.This handsome man is his upstairs neighbor. - I am a fan of AU’s and this was a fun one to read. I think my favorite part was Yuuri’s cussing and Victor’s everything. 

hollow ground | by piyo13 | 41K - Teen and Up. Fandom: Yuri on Ice. Summary: There's no rules regarding where a daemon has to be in relation to their skater, only that they aren't allowed on the ice. This has always seemed a little unfair to Yuuri.After all, he loves skating like he loves his own soul; why can't he have both? - I enjoyed this take of a deamon au for this fandom. It follows the series closely, and if you have watched it like I have, you will appreciate how the author works with canon to world build and fashion the plot. 

Polaris (Series) | by jynx | 103 K (Incomplete) - Highest Rating: Explicit. Fandom: Star Wars. Summary:  What if Obi-Wan Kenobi never went to Bandomeer? What if, instead, he got on a different ship? Those steps set into motion an entirely different future, one where he takes on different names until an unlikely friend gives him one that sticks--Red. All he wanted was to help those in need, but somewhere along the way he became the one who needs. Who will help him? - I unabashedly love Obi Wan, and any AU, Canon, or whatever I can get my hands on, I will probably read. And then re-read. This series is great, enough to risk an unfinished work if that’s not your thing! The author does a great job with emotional intricacies in a complicated fandom. I’m a fan and have subscribed to the series and hope they update soon! 

Our Destinies Our Own | by @katherynefromphilly​ | 96.5K - Mature Fandom: Merlin. Summary: In the few weeks since Arthur stepped out of Lake Avalon, he's been confronted by perplexing technology, ancient prophecy, and belated epiphany about his true feelings for his manservant turned friend turned sorcerer turned- god help him- lover.With prophecy fulfilled, Arthur and Merlin now face a new adventure: Finding their place in the modern world.This is a story of what happens next. After Arthur and Merlin save the world and find each other. Of how an immortal sorcerer and an ancient king learn to move away from the past, and on toward the future, in love and together.***Story contains: banter, sass, mockery of mobile usage, cuddling, verbal abuse of technology, flirting, bedsharing, jealousy, a lot of sex, and even more fluff. - This is the sequel to And Like The Cycle Of the Year We Begin Again, which is a fix it of a sort, where Arthur comes back in modern day. This fic takes place directly after that fic, and I really recommend reading that one first. I’d been following this author for a while now, and knew they were working on the sequel, and I was sooooo not disappointed. I loved Arthur’s POV. This was also a great look at how these characters would deal with this situation: emotionally and mentally. I couldn’t put it down, and will be re-reading this in the future. 

Current of Fate (Series) | by kj_feybarn | 121K (Incomplete) - General Audiences Fandom: Star Wars Summary:  He woke up. And everything changed, but of course, that's what life does. It changes. There are so many options, so many things that seem right. And yet each of those things also feels wrong. Failure isn't an option, not again. But there is no outline for success, and he's hardly the only one in the game. He's tired, and exhausted, and so very lonely. But force help him, he's going to save as many people as he can. Really, Force, he needs the help. - This is another Obi Wan goes back in time after he dies fic. I love this author’s take on this particular plot. Obi Wan is still Obi Wan, and others around him can’t help but be fondly annoyed that they like him so well. This series is a WIP, but it is at a good place to catch up, if you are looking to begin reading a WIP. Highly recommend. 

Adjustment Period | by @youcouldmakealife​ | 3.3K - Teen and Up Fandom: Hockey (but not RPF, this is an original fic, part 50 of a series) Summary: “You know if it doesn’t work out, that’s a hard thing to come back from in a relationship,” she says. “Are you sure you want to take that risk?”“Positive,” Jared says.“Okay,” she says, and finally releases him. - If you like dumb boys in love, who both happen to play hockey, this series, and in fact, all of Taylor’s series are for you. Her characters are just so REAL. Go read them all, you will be kept busy for a while, but it is well worth it. 

[harbourstarwilling-blog]

The Marauders and the Hollow Hill: Snivellus Snape (6)

James led the way across the still-damp grass, flushed with excitement. Finally, finally, he was going to be able to ride a broom again. He could feel his eye twitching as he was forced to halt when a witch was short white hair and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Alright!" she barked at them. James could see two rows of brooms laid neatly on the ground behind her; he felt himself grin. Sirius elbowed him hard in the stomach. The witch glanced down at them with her yellow eyes. "I am Madam Hooch - what are you waiting for?" she yelled again, causing the first-years to jump. "Go on, go and stand next to a broom. Hurry up now!"

Quickly, the first-years scurried to find a place next to a broom. James selected the one farthest away from Madam Hooch, a rather sad-looking one with a cracked handle a clumps of twigs missing from the end of it. He stared down at it. "You'd think the school would be able to afford better brooms," he muttered under his breath, turning to look at Sirius. "It doesn't even look like they can get off the ground."

Sirius frowned down at his broom, which looked even more disappointing than James'. "I hope so, or else we'll all look barmy," he muttered.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," Madam Hooch was calling near the front of the line. "And say, 'Up!'"

"UP!" the first-years shouted. To James's delight, his leapt into his hand immediately, as did Sirius's. Peter's, however, didn't move at all, and Remus's wriggled pathetically on the ground. He didn't seem that perturbed; he just smiled rather tiredly."I think it knows I'm not that fond of flying," he explained.

Meanwhile, Madam Hooch showed them all how to mount the broom and grip it correctly - James knew he didn't need her help. He wanted to get to the part where they actually flew. He could feel his stomach writhing with excitement as he swung his leg over the side of his broom. Catching Sirius's eye, he grinned.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch sternly. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle!" James gripped the handle of his broom along with the rest of the first years and obeyed; he kicked off the wet grass and made sure to hover a bit longer and a bit higher than everyone else around him. Then they all sank back to the ground - James noticed that the red-haired girl, Evans, was wobbling a bit. He grinned.

"Excellent," barked Madam Hooch. "Now we'll try that again - a bit higher, this time-"

They tried again; James did as he was told. When it was time to descend, however, he rose another three feet in the air and stared down at them all, smirking."Alright, Evans?" he yelled down at the girl, who by now had swung off her broomstick and gone to stand by the pasty, greasy-haired boy James recognized once again as "Snivellus" Snape. Both were glaring up at him like he'd just killed their mum's cat.

"Potter!" Madam Hooch yelled at him. She grew smaller and smaller as James rose higher and higher. "Potter, you get down here this instant!"

James shook his head. Far below he saw Sirius, shielding his eyes from the sun and grinning. "See how high you can go!" he shouted.

"Mr. Black-" scolded Madam Hooch.

"James, maybe you should-" began Peter.

"Potter!" cried Evans angrily over all the hubbub. "You get down here right now, you'll get a detention!

"James snorted. "I'm too good for a detention."

"Mr. Potter!" Madam Hooch screeched. "If you don't get down here right now-"

"You'll get in trouble!" Evans yelled. "You'll get Gryffindor in trouble!"

"Bollocks," James said. He urged his broom higher towards the castle roof.

"Potter!" Madam Hooch and Evans screamed at the same time, but they faded in the wind as it rushed past James' ears, he hollered with triumph as he soared towards Ravenclaw Tower - perhaps he could glimpse a couple little Ravenclaws… or, if he was lucky, even Celia St. Claire…

He glanced through the window and he felt his heart soar. There she was, sitting on a pouf in the Ravenclaw Common Room, deeply immersed in her Herbology textbook. Lightly, he tapped on the glass. She looked up, stunned for a few moments, then (his heart jumped again) waved, blushing furiously. Returning her wave, he decided to impress her, doing a loop-de-loop beside the window. He could hear his fellow first-years gasping from the ground below, but he didn't care. He was safe. He'd done stuff like that a million times.Celia St. Claire was applauding behind the glass. Grinning, he bid her farewell with a jerk of his head and zoomed straight back down towards the ground - he could hear some Gryffindors shrieking - at the very last second, he pulled out of the dive-

Something leapt in front of him, a green and black blur brandishing a wand. "CONFUNDUS!" shouted a voice. Startled, James tried to steer his broom away, but he felt the handle vibrate underneath him - instead of slowing down, it sped up, but it was only inches away from the ground now, and jerking violently, like a bronco trying to buck off his rider.

Thankfully, James kept his head. Forcing his sweaty hands to release the broom handle, he jumped away from it and rolled, coming up on his knees. The broom behind him promptly exploded.

Sirius, who was standing nearby, helped James to his feet. "That was wicked, mate!" 

James grinned.Madam Hooch, meanwhile, was all in a dither. "Now, really!" she yelled. The effect of her voice sent all the first-years stumbling backwards. "The Confundus Charm was unnecessary! A detention, perhaps, might do the trick!" She stared at the first-years with her hawk-like eyes. "Come now! Which one of you did it?"

No one stirred."Bet one Sickle it's Snivellus," James muttered.

"I'm betting Evans - you're on," murmured Sirius, smirking.

Sighing, Madam Hooch whipped out her wand. "I guess there's only one way to solve this - Prior Incantato!" She yelled, waving her wand over the crowd of frightened first-years. Gasping and shrieking, they tried to evade the spell, but it appeared to do nothing; that is, until the wand of an unsuspecting Slytherin was yanked out of his pocket and zoomed into Madam Hooch's hand.

"Aha!" she shouted. "Mr. Snape, is it?"

Snape nodded, apparently emotionless."Well, this will be your first detention at Hogwarts won't it?" Snape nodded sullenly. James stifled a laugh - Madam Hooch's head snapped around to look at him. "The same goes for you, Mr. Potter!" Then she cast her eyes over the rest of her class, who looked nervous and surprisingly shrunken. "Well, what are you all looking at?" Madam Hooch barked. "Class dismissed!"

The first-years anxiously gathered up their things and made their way back up to the castle. Remus and Peter fell in pace with James and Sirius at the back of the group."I can't believe you've gone and landed yourself in detention," Peter groaned.

"Just like Lily said you would," Remus said, shaking his head.

James elbowed him in the ribs. "Already on a first name basis, eh? You in love, Remus?"

Remus rolled his eyes. "I am not. You're telling me you're not upset you got a detention?"

James grinned. "Don't try to change the subject. Nah, I don't mind. But Sirius owes me a Sickle now, don't you, mate?"

"Can't believe it," Sirius said, pretending to look solemn.

Out of the corner of his eye, James saw Snape enter the castle, walking in a way that reminded James of a spider. Peter followed his gaze."Who do you reckon he is, then?" he asked, looking after Snape.

Sirius laughed humorlessly. "That's Snivellus. Snivellus Snape."

"He's odd," Remus muttered, frowning. "I reckon he's lonely. Doesn't have many friends, does he?"

"He hangs out with Evans," Peter pointed out."Lads, he nearly killed James," Sirius said loudly.

"He couldn't kill me if he tried," James said scornfully. And without another word, he rushed ahead of them and back into the castle.

The next few days passed without incident. Lessons were almost always the same as the ones previous them; James found himself getting extremely bored and glancing up at the clock every five seconds. The only class he really liked that that had was Charms - he was absolutely rubbish at Potions and despised History of Magic, Astronomy was okay (Sirius was surprisingly enthusiastic about it), and he didn't even try in Herbology. Defense Against the Dark Arts was an entirely different story. He absolutely loathed it… perhaps he hated the teacher even more. Professor Lancaster was (if possible) even worse than his son. He was round-faced and thick-necked, like Martin, but he was surprisingly thin-mouthed, and had a hoarse, croaky voice that sounded somewhat like a frog that had a head cold. Most of the time, Lancaster paced the front of the room, lecturing them about curses and hexes while they took notes, tense and alert, like they were expecting someone to creep up behind them and whack them. Sometimes they divided into pairs and attempted simple charms and jinxes on each other, but not often. But Professor Lancaster docked Gryffindor points every class, and blamed Sirius for every point taken. He also seemed to insult Sirius every chance he got, and constantly mentioned the Blacks and their "honourable pure-blood heritage." Then he would glance at Sirius, obviously disgusted, and would continue with the lesson as if nothing had happened.

Thankfully, the rest of Gryffindor House had the same view of Professor Lancaster, with the exception of Martin and his cronies. To James's great surprise, Martin had more people on his side than James had thought he would. Not only had he swayed his roommates, but the whole of Slytherin House, though Sirius claimed they had always thought that way in the same place.

"But not all Slytherins can be bad," James remembered Peter muttering during one uneventful Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

Remus actually stopped taking notes and turned to look at them, which was a great achievement, seeing as Remus was the only one of them who would pay attention during lessons. "He's right, isn't he?" he mused. "You can't just create a stereotype based off a few people you know, can you?"

"You don't know them," Sirius had murmured darkly.

"Mr. Black!" Professor Lancaster had snarled. "Is there something you'd like to share with all of us?" Sirius had raised his head and opened his mouth, but Lancaster continued before Sirius even had time to speak. "That's another five points from Gryffindor."

Sirius had sunk even lower in his seat. "You see?" he had whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

Despite all of this, James found himself enjoying Hogwarts. He found the classes easy, even without paying attention, and he found learning the magic easier. He liked his dormitory, the meals they served in the Great Hall… he even grew fond of the moving staircases, which lurched every time they moved and had a tendency to make James fall over. Everything was almost perfect.

"When'd you think they'll let us try out for Quidditch?" said James as he swung his legs over the arm of a chair in the Gryffindor common room. It was late on a Friday; their first week finished at Hogwarts. But somehow they had managed to acquire a heavy load of homework to finish over the weekend - Remus had decided to get a head start on it. He was lying on his stomach in front of the fireplace, adjusting his reading glasses on his nose as he leaned further and further in towards his book. Sirius sat in the chair opposite James, shirt untucked and arm draped over the back of the chair. Peter, meanwhile, was sitting on the floor in between them, going through James's extensive collection of Chocolate Frogs, bleary-eyed.

"You know, I don't think first-years get to play Quidditch," said Peter, yawning. He shuffled through a few more cards. "How many Agrippa cards do you have? I swear I've counted at least fifty so far-"

James groaned loudly. "What? What about… ugh." He rolled his eyes. "I saw the Gryffindor Quidditch team practicing this morning."

"Yeah?" Sirius smirked at James. "And what do you reckon?"

James snorted. "I reckon they're rubbish."

Peter glanced up at them, eyes swiveling back and forth between James and Sirius. "Really? Are they that bad?" he asked worriedly.

"Yes," James said with an air of finality. "I even spoke to Ayres about it afterwards-"

"Ayres?" interrupted Sirius frowning. "He's the Captain of the Gryffindor Team, isn't he?"

"Yeah," nodded James. "I told him that his team wasn't aligning properly: there are a bunch of holes in their Advance Formation, the Chasers must be blind or something -"

Remus spoke up suddenly from his place on the floor. "Now, I don't know much about Quidditch," he said quietly, not bothering to take his eyes off of his book. "But I imagine Ayres wasn't too chuffed about that, was he?"

"No, he wasn't!" said James angrily. "He chucked me off the field, in fact!" Frustrated, he punched the chair, his tight fist sinking deep into the plush material. "I can't wait until I get into Quidditch… I'll outplay them all, the-"

"Shall we go to bed?" said Peter hastily. Out of the corner of his eye, James saw Remus smile a little.

"No," scoffed Sirius, flipping his long dark hair out of his eyes. "It's barely ten -"

"And it's our first Friday at Hogwarts!" James added, glancing at Sirius out of the corner of his eye. Sirius grinned.

Remus raised his eyebrows. "Whatever you guys are planning, I'll not be involved."

Sirius pretended to look shocked. "Why, Remus! What would ever make you think something like that?"

Remus rolled his eyes and pulled his glasses off his face, neatly folding them up and putting them in his pocket. "Well, I agree with Peter - I'm turning in… I'm finished."

"Finished?" James felt his mouth fall open. "With all of it?"

"The summary on wormwood isn't that hard James, I don't know why you were complaining so much about it - all you have to do is take notes on the chapter and look up it's properties in the index-"

"Alright, alright!" shouted Sirius, clamping his hands over his ears. "We've heard enough, we'll do it tomorrow. Happy?"

Remus smirked at them as he got to his feet; James noticed that he was shaking a little. "Right." And he disappeared up to the staircase leading towards the boys' dormitories. Peter was quick to follow, still clutching James's Chocolate Frog Cards.

Sirius glanced over at James again. "What do you reckon?" he asked quietly.

His inquiry took James by surprise. "What?"

Sirius jerked his head towards the staircase that Remus and Peter had ascended. "What do you think of them? You reckon they're decent?"

James stared at Sirius. It was an odd question to ask, seeing as Sirius had already seemed to have grown fond of both Remus and Peter. "Um… sure. Why?"

"Just wondering if you thought the same as I did," said Sirius, grinning forcibly. "I reckon they're good. Wouldn't have stuck with me this far if they weren't, would they?"

James frowned at him. "What do you mean?" Then something clicked in his brain, and a fresh wave of frustration seemed to flow from his head down to his toes. "If this is about you being a Black-"

Sirius went red. "No, of course not-"

"Sirius, how long will it take for you to get it?" said James, gazing right at him. "I don't care if you're a Black - I don't think Remus or Peter cares either… you're decent, all right?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I'm decent. Now I feel special."

James threw a pillow at him, and it smacked Sirius right in the face, who fell over laughing.

The weekend seemed to flash by, and James was soon wishing that he had done all his homework on Friday evening with Remus. It wasn't long before he and Sirius were sprawled down on the floor of the Common Room, scribbling randomly about bezoars and asphodel on long pieces of parchment on a cool Sunday evening. Peter, who had managed to finish all of his homework the previous afternoon, was anxiously checking his essay against James and Sirius's. Remus stood over them all, already in his pajamas, helping them when he could.

Nonetheless, James woke up the next morning grumpy and irritated. Sirius, on the other hand, seemed to be more energetic and enthusiastic than ever. Finally, he had seemed to accept the fact that none of his new friends cared the slightest bit about his heritage whatsoever.

"Can't wait for this afternoon." Sirius had said at breakfast as he poured ketchup over his sausages.

Peter frowned at him. "Why?"

"We have Potions with the Slytherins," replied Sirius happily. "Those wazzocks, they'll fail at everything, the stupid -"

"Actually -" Remus murmured, looking paler than usual. "We have Transformation with them in the morning…" He frowned a little, staring vaguely with the ceiling. "At least, I think we do."

It turned out that Remus was right. In fact, they had Transfiguration right after breakfast, and they were very nearly late. Flushed and panting, they seated themselves in tables at the back of the room, heaving their thick leather-bound books onto the desks. James squinted at it; he hadn't really bothered to look in his textbooks yet.

"A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration, by Emeric Switch," he read, opening the book excitedly. "Wow! Look at all this!..." He practically dove into the book. The whole thing seemed very simple to him, a thought and an incantation, and you could change anything into… anything. James flipped through the book hastily, scanning the text, examining the illustrations. One of his favourites depicted a fabulously multi-coloured bird changing into a silver goblet.

Sirius, meanwhile, was tipping his chair back on two legs. "Wonder where the teacher is," he mumbled. "Who's our professor anyways?"

Suddenly, there was a loud noise up near the front of the classroom; someone was clearing their throat. Startled, Sirius almost tumbled out of his chair, while James looked up so fast he cricked his neck. Standing behind the large oaken desk in the front of the room stood the same witch that had placed the Sorting Hat on their heads - McGonagall, James thought. She looked ever the same: rather severe-looking, with a black pointed hat and square spectacles perched on the end of her nose. She stared down at them without the slightest shadow of a smile.

"As you all know, I am Professor McGonagall," she stated obviously. "And I will be your Transfiguration teacher during your time at Hogwarts."

James's hand shot up before he even realized it; McGonagall turned towards him, eyebrows raised. "Yes, Mr. Potter?"

So she had a good memory. "What kind of stuff will we be transfiguring?" he asked eagerly.

"All kinds of 'stuff,' as you put it, Mr. Potter," replied McGonagall. James thought he saw her smirk a little. He watched her flick her wand - instantly, a lot of long, complicated notes appeared on the blackboard in front of the classroom. "Now, if you would… please copy these down…"

To James's extreme disappointment, the class wasn't nearly as fun as he had anticipated. After slowly copying all the notes from the board onto parchment, McGonagall handed them each a match and told them to try to turn it into a needle. James, to his immense surprise, managed to transform his match on the first try. McGonagall actually smiled and held up his needle for everyone to see - he saw the pale, greasy-haired boy he had met on the train scowl at him and wave his wand over his match; it promptly flew six feet into the air and exploded.

"I think McGonagall's taken a shine to you, James!" chuckled Peter as they left the Transfiguration classroom. Indeed she had seemed to, as she had gone on a ten-minute rant about how particularly talented and lucky James was, how a natural ability to transfigure was very uncommon, and how she looked forward to seeing him more in her class.

"Have you always been able to transfigure things easily, James?" Remus asked, leading the way down the moving staircase.

James frowned. "Well… not always. I turned my mum's wand into a giant slug once - it's not that funny," he added when Sirius sniggered. "I'm pretty sure my wand has something to do with it too… at least, that's what Ollivander said… he said mahogany's real good for Transfiguration…" He glanced down at it as he spoke, clutched tightly in his fist. "Anyways… what do we have next?"

"Potions," said Sirius immediately. "With the Slytherins, we're with them all afternoon."

"Joy," muttered Remus unenthusiastically.

Soon, they arrived at the Potions classroom, which was located in the lowest part of the castle - the dungeons. It was much colder there than the other rooms in Hogwarts, and seemed much more foul. It was dank and dark and multicolored blobs floated in jars on shelves. Thankfully, having had Potions five times the previous week, they were practically used to it. Their professor was already standing there - Horace Slughorn, red-cheeked, big-bellied, and beaming - despite the temperature.

"I can't wait to see this place in winter," murmured Sirius as he set up his cauldron.

"Welcome back!" Slughorn announced, grinning at them. "We'll be continuing to brew the Forgetfulness Potion today - your samples from last week are here on my desk, they'll need to stew for another ten minutes, and they still need sprigs of lavender and some dragon blood… well." His smile widened. "You'll find all the instructions in your books. Let the brewing commence!"

James rolled his eyes. "Who do you reckon will be his favourite today, Sirius?"

Sirius pretended to be concentrating and counted off people on his fingers. "Evans, Maddox… Lancaster," he added, making a face. "They don't really change, do they?"

"No," agreed James, retrieving his sample from Slughorn's desk and dumping it into his cauldron. Furtively, he lit a fire underneath it and glanced anxiously into his cauldron. "Remus?"

"Mmm?" said Remus vaguely, staring down into his Potions book.

"Is it supposed to be red?"

James grinned as Remus whipped around, and enjoyed watching his face turn the same shade of bright scarlet that the potion had turned, although he wished it had been shooting sparks and emitting a high-pitched whistling noise like the potion was.

Slughorn, to James's disappointment, hurried over. "Evanesco!" he yelled, and the potion vanished. "My dear boy, what happened?" Slughorn puffed, straightening his hat on his balding head. "Did you add the Tentacula Leaves? Because you are supposed to wait at least five minutes before-"

"Professor!" someone called from the other end of the classroom. Standing behind a simmering cauldron was the red-haired girl - Evans, James thought - and the bat-like, greasy-haired boy James had seen in Transformation. Snivellus, remembered James, smirking. From the train. "Professor!" Evans called again, waving her hand in the air. "I think we've got it; can you come take a look?"

Slughorn rushed over there so fast he might've be magicked by a Summoning Charm. But as he peered into their cauldron, James saw his face light up with delight. "My, my! This is absolutely perfect - the fumes are strong… I can feel myself forgetting what I had for breakfast this very morning!" He chuckled at his own joke. "Everyone! Come here! Look, Miss Evans and Mr. Snape have done it!"

The effect was almost immediate. In an instant, the whole of the class had gathered around Evans and Snape's cauldron, staring down at the potion. Professor Slughorn was still congratulating them, finally declaring that they had gained a well-earned ten points for both their Houses. James felt something hot like jealousy flare up in the bottom of his stomach. Thankfully, Sirius had stayed by his side. "They shouldn't have gotten points for that," he groaned. "I can't wait to see their smug little faces this next class."

James was a little alarmed. "Why?"

Sirius grinned over at him. "Quidditch."

Promptly, the stinging jealous feeling in his stomach disappeared, and he felt himself grin along with Sirius. He had been playing Quidditch practically all his life, riding a broom was almost second nature to James. Of course, being a first year, he'd been forced to leave his broomstick back in his trunk at home, but James felt like he would give anything to feel that wonderful, thrilling feeling he always got in his chest whenever he rode a broomstick.

He couldn't wait for the next class. Even if it was with the Slytherins.

James led the way across the still-damp grass, flushed with excitement. Finally, finally, he was going to be able to ride a broom again. He could feel his eye twitching as he was forced to halt when a witch was short white hair and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Alright!" she barked at them. James could see two rows of brooms laid neatly on the ground behind her; he felt himself grin. Sirius elbowed him hard in the stomach. The witch glanced down at them with her yellow eyes. "I am Madam Hooch - what are you waiting for?" she yelled again, causing the first-years to jump. "Go on, go and stand next to a broom. Hurry up now!"

Quickly, the first-years scurried to find a place next to a broom. James selected the one farthest away from Madam Hooch, a rather sad-looking one with a cracked handle a clumps of twigs missing from the end of it. He stared down at it. "You'd think the school would be able to afford better brooms," he muttered under his breath, turning to look at Sirius. "It doesn't even look like they can get off the ground."

Sirius frowned down at his broom, which looked even more disappointing than James'. "I hope so, or else we'll all look barmy," he muttered.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," Madam Hooch was calling near the front of the line. "And say, 'Up!'"

"UP!" the first-years shouted. To James's delight, his leapt into his hand immediately, as did Sirius's. Peter's, however, didn't move at all, and Remus's wriggled pathetically on the ground. He didn't seem that perturbed; he just smiled rather tiredly.

"I think it knows I'm not that fond of flying," he explained.

Meanwhile, Madam Hooch showed them all how to mount the broom and grip it correctly - James knew he didn't need her help. He wanted to get to the part where they actually flew. He could feel his stomach writhing with excitement as he swung his leg over the side of his broom. Catching Sirius's eye, he grinned.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch sternly. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle!" James gripped the handle of his broom along with the rest of the first years and obeyed; he kicked off the wet grass and made sure to hover a bit longer and a bit higher than everyone else around him. Then they all sank back to the ground - James noticed that the red-haired girl, Evans, was wobbling a bit. He grinned.

"Excellent," barked Madam Hooch. "Now we'll try that again - a bit higher, this time-"

They tried again; James did as he was told. When it was time to descend, however, he rose another three feet in the air and stared down at them all, smirking.

"Alright, Evans?" he yelled down at the girl, who by now had swung off her broomstick and gone to stand by the pasty, greasy-haired boy James recognized once again as "Snivellus" Snape. Both were glaring up at him like he'd just killed their mum's cat.

"Potter!" Madam Hooch yelled at him. She grew smaller and smaller as James rose higher and higher. "Potter, you get down here this instant!"

James shook his head. Far below he saw Sirius, shielding his eyes from the sun and grinning. "See how high you can go!" he shouted.

"Mr. Black-" scolded Madam Hooch.

"James, maybe you should-" began Peter.

"Potter!" cried Evans angrily over all the hubbub. "You get down here right now, you'll get a detention!"

James snorted. "I'm too good for a detention."

"Mr. Potter!" Madam Hooch screeched. "If you don't get down here right now-"

"You'll get in trouble!" Evans yelled. "You'll get Gryffindor in trouble!"

"Bollocks," James said. He urged his broom higher towards the castle roof.

"Potter!" Madam Hooch and Evans screamed at the same time, but they faded in the wind as it rushed past James' ears, he hollered with triumph as he soared towards Ravenclaw Tower - perhaps he could glimpse a couple little Ravenclaws… or, if he was lucky, even Celia St. Claire…

He glanced through the window and he felt his heart soar. There she was, sitting on a pouf in the Ravenclaw Common Room, deeply immersed in her Herbology textbook. Lightly, he tapped on the glass. She looked up, stunned for a few moments, then (his heart jumped again) waved, blushing furiously. Returning her wave, he decided to impress her, doing a loop-de-loop beside the window. He could hear his fellow first-years gasping from the ground below, but he didn't care. He was safe. He'd done stuff like that a million times.

Celia St. Claire was applauding behind the glass. Grinning, he bid her farewell with a jerk of his head and zoomed straight back down towards the ground - he could hear some Gryffindors shrieking - at the very last second, he pulled out of the dive-

Something leapt in front of him, a green and black blur brandishing a wand. "CONFUNDUS!" shouted a voice. Startled, James tried to steer his broom away, but he felt the handle vibrate underneath him - instead of slowing down, it sped up, but it was only inches away from the ground now, and jerking violently, like a bronco trying to buck off his rider.

Thankfully, James kept his head. Forcing his sweaty hands to release the broom handle, he jumped away from it and rolled, coming up on his knees. The broom behind him promptly exploded.

Sirius, who was standing nearby, helped James to his feet. "That was wicked, mate!"

James grinned.

Madam Hooch, meanwhile, was all in a dither. "Now, really!" she yelled. The effect of her voice sent all the first-years stumbling backwards. "The Confundus Charm was unnecessary! A detention, perhaps, might do the trick!" She stared at the first-years with her hawk-like eyes. "Come now! Which one of you did it?"

No one stirred.

"Bet one Sickle it's Snivellus," James muttered.

"I'm betting Evans - you're on," murmured Sirius, smirking.

Sighing, Madam Hooch whipped out her wand. "I guess there's only one way to solve this - Prior Incantato!" She yelled, waving her wand over the crowd of frightened first-years. Gasping and shrieking, they tried to evade the spell, but it appeared to do nothing; that is, until the wand of an unsuspecting Slytherin was yanked out of his pocket and zoomed into Madam Hooch's hand.

"Aha!" she shouted. "Mr. Snape, is it?"

Snape nodded, apparently emotionless.

"Well, this will be your first detention at Hogwarts won't it?" Snape nodded sullenly. James stifled a laugh - Madam Hooch's head snapped around to look at him. "The same goes for you, Mr. Potter!" Then she cast her eyes over the rest of her class, who looked nervous and surprisingly shrunken. "Well, what are you all looking at?" Madam Hooch barked. "Class dismissed!"

The first-years anxiously gathered up their things and made their way back up to the castle. Remus and Peter fell in pace with James and Sirius at the back of the group.

"I can't believe you've gone and landed yourself in detention," Peter groaned.

"Just like Lily said you would," Remus said, shaking his head.

James elbowed him in the ribs. "Already on a first name basis, eh? You in love, Remus?"

Remus rolled his eyes. "I am not. You're telling me you're not upset you got a detention?"

James grinned. "Don't try to change the subject. Nah, I don't mind. But Sirius owes me a Sickle now, don't you, mate?"

"Can't believe it," Sirius said, pretending to look solemn.

Out of the corner of his eye, James saw Snape enter the castle, walking in a way that reminded James of a spider. Peter followed his gaze.

"Who do you reckon he is, then?" he asked, looking after Snape.

Sirius laughed humorlessly. "That's Snivellus. Snivellus Snape."

"He's odd," Remus muttered, frowning. "I reckon he's lonely. Doesn't have many friends, does he?"

"He hangs out with Evans," Peter pointed out.

"Lads, he nearly killed James," Sirius said loudly.

"He couldn't kill me if he tried," James said scornfully. And without another word, he rushed ahead of them and back into the castle.

[marauderingbad-blog]

Of Monsters and Marauders

PART 2/4

Read the Full Story on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11590044/chapters/26048535

While James had chased after Snape, Sirius--in his dog form--got himself up from the floor and faced the wolf with his ears back, body lowered and hackles raised--threatening attack. Wolf and dog faced off, snarling and baring teeth as Sirius slowly backed towards the exit of the shack. Once he was close enough, he swiftly gripped Peter (who had been cowering in the corner as a rat the entire time) between his teeth and barreled out through the passageway—with the wolf’s snapping jaw just missing Sirius’ tail.

Sirius and Peter both transformed back into humans once they were safely outside and out of range of the willow. Peter was shaking in horror and vomited the moment they stilled. Sirius was dripping blood from the gashes on his face that ran from the bridge of his nose all the way across to his jaw. He sighed, nonverbally lit his wand, and pulled Peter up from the grass by the shirt collar.

“Bet you’re regretting that third helping of shepherd's pie right about now, eh, Worm?” Whilst dragging a sullen Peter behind him, Sirius trudged through the damp grass--fighting pain and exhaustion--to find James in the night.

The full moon loomed over the castle as the night slowly rolled on. While Hogsmeade village was being haunted by the wolf’s tumultuous screams from within the shack, the dark woods of the forbidden forest were uncannily silent. Sirius had been tracking James and Snape, which, much to Peter’s dismay, had led them into the forest.

“No…no.no.no. Not the forest…Please, Sirius…can’t we just go home?” Peter groaned in protest as he was being dragged into the shadowy woods.

“By all means, head back if you’d prefer.” Sirius replied curtly, dropping Peter’s arm and quickening his pace.

Peter stood in the dark for a moment with his mouth agape as he blankly watched his sole source of protection fading up ahead. His bottom lip began to quiver as the reality of his situation slowly dawned on him. The sound of an owl calling above and the mysterious bristling of a nearby bush catalyzed his awakening. And then, much to Sirius’ delight, he began to shriek and run back towards Sirius with his arms flailing.

The amusement ceased once Peter had reached him and collapsed most of his weight (which was nearly double that of his own) onto Sirius’ shoulder. Sirius sighed but put his arm around Peter and continued to lead them to James.

Not long after that did they stumble upon James.

“Fuck, Prongs. I couldn’t bloody well find you anywhere…” Sirius said to James with exasperation as he released Peter, who immediately dropped like a boulder to the mossy ground. Sirius bent over and pressed his hands to his knees as he panted.

Peter whimpered quietly below them both. "Er... you guys..." he piped up, looking wildly around his ominous surroundings with terror. “C…can we please go home now...”

James flatly ignored Peter as he stared at Sirius. Part of him wanted to ignore what Snape said--but there was also a building fury inside of James over what could have happened to Snape, what could have happened to Remus.

“Sirius,” James said, his voice tense, rigid. “Did you tell Snape where we were going?” he asked, giving him a chance to tell his side of the story and hoping that it was different, that Sirius would invalidate Snape’s accusation.

Sirius was in the midst of wiping blood from his face and onto his jeans when he heard James’ question. He hadn’t considered what would happen if James had found out what he had done. Then again, he hadn’t been doing very much thinking in general of late. Certainly not that night.

He slowly stood up straight and met James with a dark, fearless stare. “Yes, I did.” he admitted simply.

The look on Sirius’ face unnerved James nearly as much as his words did. For a moment, he merely gaped at him. “How could you?” he asked finally, his voice quiet at first, then all the fear and tension of the past hour boiled up in him and he burst, “How could you bloody well fucking do that?” James shouted. “Snape could have died!” he said.

“You’re right, he could have died,” Sirius’ voice was a dangerous calm. “But he didn’t, did he?” Sirius asked rhetorically.

“So now who’s being the dramatic one,” he added nastily and crossed his arms.

“ Maybe I am being fucking dramatic, because this is a big deal! It’s not okay that Snape could have died!” James shouted. He then ran both of his hands through his hair, but not to artfully dishevel it as usual; instead, he curled his fingers into his unruly hair, tugging at the strands in frustration before he let his arms fall at his sides.

“I can’t stand him either, Sirius, but I never wanted to--I don’t want to really, physically hurt him! I mean, that’s the difference between us and them!” he said. “We don’t do that dark, twisted shite that they do,” James said. “No,” he said fiercely at Sirius’ flimsy justification for telling Snape about the Shack.

“So, what, does this mean that I’m basically a purist fanatic now?” Sirius asked bitingly as he began to slowly circle around James like a hunting predator. “Is that what you’re insinuating? You, being so morally upstanding and all,” Sirius snarled.

“What--no! What does that even have to do with anything?” James said, turning to face Sirius so his back was never to him. “What I’m insinuatingis that you fucked up, that almost killing Snape is crossing a line, especially because, in the end, the blood wouldn’t have been on your hands anyway! It would have been on Remus’, and I mean--fucking hell, Sirius, how could you have put Remus into this situation, if nothing else?” he questioned, going off course. “But that’s not--I don’t think you suddenly hate muggleborns and werewolves now, I mean, Jesus Christ. But I don’t--I just don’t know what you were thinking,” he said, exasperated.

“Maybe I was thinking that he’d been following us all term, anyway!” Sirius shouted back. “He was going to find out soon enough. I didn’t force him to do anything, he went willingly and all on his own! He needed to be taught a lesson.”

“No, he wouldn’t have! He wouldn’t have figured out how to press the knot in the tree if you hadn’t told him!”

”Well, I did,” Sirius retorted indifferently.

“Alright, so apparently you can’t be bothered give a fuck that one of our classmates could have died. But what about Remus--did you even bloody well think about Remus?” James asked again. “It would have destroyed him if he hurt Snape! And even as it is, who fucking knows what’s going to happen now?” he asked. “I had to beg Snape not to tell anyone, because he knows! Snape of all fucking people knows about Remus now! Do you know what this means? What this means for Remus?”

Even in his state of dark ferocity, Sirius felt a very minute pang when James brought up Remus. "Bollocks." He declared after a moment of irritation. “Snape won’t tell,” he insisted. “Because he will then also have to admit that he was so scared he practically pissed himself and that you had to save his arse. Nothing will change for Remus.”

James bit on his lip anxiously. “Are you so sure that he won’t tell? That he’s going to keep his word to me?” he asked. “And even if he doesn’t tell, Remus is going to have to live with knowing that Snape knows. God damnit, Sirius! You know how Remus feels about this. You know that people finding out is his worst fucking nightmare, and you give Snape all the tools he needs to figure it out?” he asked. “What is wrong with you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I suppose we just can’t all be bloody fucking heroes like cherished little James Potter with his perfect fucking life and perfect fucking parents.” Sirius spat, becoming more vicious with every breath. “Pull your broomstick out of your arse, for fuck’s sake.” He rolled his eyes.

At this next outburst, James’ eyes narrowed, brows drawing together in confusion. “What the fuck do my parents have to do with any of this?” he said, then laughed an empty sort of laugh.

“And I’m not being heroic! Refraining from leading others to my werewolf best mate on a full moon is not heroic--it’s just common fucking sense! This was always our secret! We all knew it had to stay a secret!”

“Oh, he’s getting angry now,” Sirius taunted with a twisted smile, clearly unaffected by James’ words. “I suppose I betrayed you, then--failed you. So what are you going to do about it? Put me under the cruciatus curse?” he said with a hollow bark-laugh and stopped circling James to stand menacingly close to him.

“Yes I am fucking angry right now,” James shouted. “And you didn’t betray me, Sirius, you betrayed Remus!” he yelled, and that, for James, was even worse. If Sirius had betrayed him, he probably could have forgiven it fairly easily--but betraying Remus, James couldn’t forgive, because it wasn’t his forgiveness to give. That decision was Remus’ to make, and he didn’t even know yet what had happened.

“How could you even--why would you even say that?” he asked quietly. “I would never, never hurt you, Sirius, but that doesn’t mean--it doesn’t mean that I can always just blindly agree with you and whatever you do! I can’t support this! I know--I know you’re going through something awful, but you can’t take it out on Remus. You can’t even take it out on Snape, not like this--all of this could have led to irreparable damage, don’t you see that?” he said, then ran his hand frustratedly through his hair again.

“What are you going to do about it?” Sirius repeated, dead serious now. “Looks like you want to hit me. So go on, then” he said truculently with gritted teeth and his wand gripped tightly.

“I don’t--” James replied. “I don’t want to hit you,” he muttered, though, that wasn’t exactly true. James wanted to smack Sirius so hard that his senses would finally return to him, but he wouldn’t do it. “I just--I need to go back to Remus. Someone needs to be there when he changes back,” James said flatly, and though he didn’t say it, he hoped that Sirius wouldn’t follow, because what he also needed was some space.

Sirius suddenly grabbed James by the shirt and pulled him in towards him so that they were merely inches apart. The ghostly fog from the forest was hovering around their feet. “Fuck you. And fuck Remus.” he whispered directly into his ear. “I don’t need anyone.”

James’ eyes widened as Sirius grabbed him--that was something he hadn't expected to happen. As Sirius hissed into his ear, James simply remained there, frozen, unable to believe what Sirius was saying, and unable to respond. When Sirius finished, James stumbled out of his grasp. He merely gaped at him, his expression neither angry, nor hostile--simply shocked, and then, hurt. Even after a moment, James couldn’t find any words, wouldn’t have been able to get them past the constriction in his throat. Instead, he simply turned and transformed into a stag, galloping in the direction of the willow.

Sirius stared after James with a scowl for a few seconds before he also transformed into his animagus form and sprinted off in the opposite direction--deeper into the woods.

Peter had been wordlessly quivering below James and Sirius during the fight, and now realized that both of his companions had abruptly left him behind. He turned, surveying the forest from all angles--everything appeared exactly the same no matter where he looked.

~~*~~

A few hours after James and Sirius parted ways, the first inkling of sunlight began to form on the horizon over the lake. The werewolf sat huddled in the corner of the shrieking shack, eyeing James in his stag form with dislike. Clearly it held a grudge for James denying the prospect of a human kill. In an instinctual flash, it sensed the rise of the sun and began to howl with disdain. The howls, eerie and sad, continued until its transmogrification began: Its features began to retract. its fur fell from its body and its bones and muscles churned, grinded and remolded repeatedly in a grotesque way. Finally, after what seemed like ages, Remus lay curled in the corner in the wolf’s place, panting and whimpering.

James tried not to provoke the werewolf too much, remaining still in the corner--that was, until Remus transformed, and then James did too. His express was grief stricken as he watched Remus curled up there. The memories all must be connecting as Remus’ mind made sense of what happened that night--of Snape’s entrance and James’ own role.

“Remus…” James said quietly, kneeling down beside him and resting a hand on his shoulder and draping a clean set of robes over him. Again, James wasn’t really sure what to say or do. He wanted to tell him that it was going to be okay, but was it? James couldn’t promise him that--he couldn’t promise him that Snape wasn’t telling his vicious, purist friends right now about what he saw. And what about Sirius? What did he say about that?

Remus propped himself up with all the strength he could muster, slipping more fully into the robes. He looked at James, his normally drained face even more weary with the flooding of distress.

“Severus...” he said quietly, his eyes filling with tears. “Is--is he alright….I didn’t--I don’t think… did I…?” the fear and guilt wore heavily on Remus. His entire body was quivering. “What have I done...” he whispered quietly, tears falling down his cheeks now. “I--I nearly killed you both...”

James shook his head rapidly. “No, you didn’t...he’s fine, you didn’t touch him. He ran away,” he said. “I checked on him, so I’m sure of it,” James assured him.

He bit the inside of his right cheek at Remus’ next words. Part of him wanted to immediately console Remus, but he didn’t want to dismiss what he was feeling, since it was all legitimate--they could have died. “That--it’s not--that shouldn’t have happened. He shouldn’t have been there,” James said quietly.

Remus closed his eyes, relieved that Severus had not been hurt. At James’ next words he opened them again and shook his head slowly. “No, James. I should not have been there.” He said softly, looking away in despair. “This is what I’ve always feared...I was never meant to come to Hogwarts for this very reason. I have to go to Dumbledore. He gave me this remarkable chance...and I failed him.”

“No, Remus, you do deserve to be here,” James insisted. “You belong here,” he said, feeling a mix of grief and anger swell up in him--grief for Remus’ situation, and anger at Sirius for putting him into this position, for making him face this. “I’m sure Dumbledore would agree, it wasn’t you who…” James trailed off, then took a deep breath. “Snape’s turning up here wasn’t an accident...Sirius led him to the shack. Enticed him or something--I’m not sure what he said exactly, but that’s what Snape told me, and Sirius confirmed it,” he said, then exhaled. “So it’s not...it’s not like Snape just stumbled upon this place, that it could have happened to anyone. It shouldn’t have ever happened, and it’s not your fault.”

Stark confusion mixed in with Remus’ sad expression once James told him about Sirius. “Sirius led him here?” he asked in disbelief. “But...why?”

“I don’t know,” James admitted. “I think he thought it was a prank…?” he offered weakly, then shook his head again. “I really don’t know what he was thinking,” he said quietly, which was as unnerving as anything else. James was used to having a practically psychic bond with Sirius, but this he couldn’t comprehend. James didn’t think Sirius meant Remus intentional harm, but how could he not have thought about him at all? Then, Sirius’ last words resounded in James’ mind--Fuck you. And fuck Remus.

“Honestly, it--it doesn’t matter what Sirius was thinking or how Severus got here...If you hadn’t risked your life I would have killed him. And if Sirius hadn’t gotten some of his sense back,you would be dead now. And I would have killed you...I’m telling Dumbledore everything, leaving out that you three were in here with me. I won’t have any of you being expelled on my account. Dumbledore can decide what happens to me next.”

James swallowed. He couldn’t deny that Remus would have killed Snape if he hadn’t been there...and that he would have killed him if it wasn’t for Sirius. “You don’t have to...I-I made Snape swear not to tell anyone,” James said weakly, knowing, though, that he couldn’t convince Remus not to do something that his conscience was telling him to do--not sure that he even should try and persuade Remus not to, because, after all, was the alternative of letting his guilt eat at him really better? And even if James disagreed with that guilt, what difference did that make to Remus?

Remus sighed deeply and rubbed his forehead. He looked much older than sixteen in that instant, having to carry such a heavy burden all the time. “You know I have to tell him, James. I owe Dumbledore that, at least. This is my fault and no one else will suffer because of me.” he said as he carefully stood up.

James frowned--though he wanted more than anything for life just to go back to normal for Remus, he knew that it ultimately wasn’t his decision. “Okay…” James said, quietly at first. “Okay,” he repeated, more firmly this time. “Whatever--whatever you need me to do.”

To Be Continued