anemonenemerosa

[anemonenemerosa]

Draco doesn’t say he saw Harry even though that would've been the obvious way to distract his attacker and get himself out of trouble.

What was he supposed to say here? Was he supposed to just die?

Why was this Death Eater so sure that Draco wasn't on his side? What had Draco done that led him to that conclusion?

I love how Harry immediately, reflexively saves him without even thinking about it. He's moving quickly, trying not to attract attention or get involved. But when Draco is in danger intervening feels utterly natural to him.

#I would lie to a murderer witha weapon if it got me out alive #ron is unreasonable #but how reasonable is s person in the middle of a fight #Draco was so happy to be saved #harry potter #drarry #draco malfoy

[anemonenemerosa]

Continue✨ Keep going✨

#ohhh! #awesome #i needed this

[anemonenemerosa]

Completely Normal

based on an anonymous request

"You what?" Remus nearly yelled, looking back and forth between Sirius and James, his mouth agape.

"Guys kiss their friends, like, to practice for girls. It's normal," James shrugged.

Remus narrowed his eyes, still trying to take in the information that two of his best friends had kissed. More than once. "Normal," he scoffed. Not much about Sirius and James was normal, after all.

But Sirius just grinned and leaned towards him. "Yeah. Want to see?"

And suddenly, Remus's brain was short-circuiting. He couldn't remember how to breathe or think. Or nod.

But somehow, Sirius must have realized that he was okay with whatever he was offering, because their lips touched softly, and Remus felt himself gasp.

It was not friendly. He felt his stomach flip-flop and his cheeks turn pink, and he resisted the urge to raise his hand to grab at Sirius's cheek and deepen the kiss. But thankfully, miraculously, Sirius did that for him, and before Remus could think, their tongues were swiping against each other, Sirius's breath hot in Remus's mouth and Remus's entire body on fire.

Suddenly, just as Remus considered wrapping his arms around Sirius's waist, Sirius almost jumped back, panting, eyes wide, looking shocked and a bit confused.

After a deep breath, however, Sirius murmured the words that made Remus's heart sink: "See? Erm...completely normal."

#oh no #how long will it take them to find out? #marauders #fanfic

[anemonenemerosa]

bookshop au - @wolfstarmicrofic - word count: 388

Today was the day.

After months of mooning over Leather Jacket, the nameless customer that came into the bookshop Remus worked at every Tuesday, Remus was going to do something. Say something.

Right?

But when Leather Jacket walked in, Remus's resolve broke, and not even an encouraging look from Lily made him feel more confident.

"Hey. How can I help you today?" he asked the man, trying to control his smile. He got way too excited to see him, considering he didn't know his name.

"How much do you know about knitting from the 1800s, Remus?" Leather Jacket asked, his light eyes boring holes into Remus's heart.

"Not much....erm....you can probably find it in the crafting section," he answered helpfully, leading the way.

It took them almost an twenty minutes to find the book the man needed. A whole history of knitting, starting from ancient Egypt. All the while, they chatted and laughed and it was so easy, and Remus found himself wishing it had taken longer to find the damn book.

"Remus, can I ask you something?" Leather Jacket asked, his eyes bright.

"Erm, sure," Remus nodded, feeling self-conscious. Did he know?

"Do I look like the type to study ancient knitting?" the man asked, his tone genuine.

"Erm...no? I dunno," Remus stuttered, feeling like this was a test he was not understanding.

"What about symbolism in ancient American poetry? Growing foreign vegetables during the off-season? Teaching children to sing in Vietnamese?" Leather Jacket said, listing off some of the topics he'd requested previously, still serious.

"Erm...well, I've never thought too hard about-" Remus shrugged, but the man cut him off.

"I just...I come in here for you. To see you," he man smiled a bit. "I thought I was being bloody obvious, but I'm starting to think-"

"Wait, you do?" Remus asked, genuinely shocked. He'd just thought the man had niche interests.

"Yes!" the man laughed. "Alright, let me do this proper. Erm...I'm Sirius. Like the star."

Remus grinned to himself, remembering the first time Sirius had come into the shop. For an Astronomy book.

"And I'd like to take you for coffee, maybe?" Sirius finished, looking slightly nervous."

But Remus grinned. "As long as we don't have to talk about the history of knitting."

Sirius sighed, chuckling. "Absolutely not."

#so cute #i'd love a book about the complete history of knitting #is remus oblivious #or is sirius bad at flirting #marauders #fanfic

[anemonenemerosa]

Prompt 18 Neighbour AU

@wolfstarmicrofic April 18, word count 991

Remus Lupin had one asset, and that was his parent’s house. It was in the middle of the Welsh countryside. It was a mile walk to the little village, and the only thing it had going for it was the barn. It was light and airy and smelled of wood. 

Remus had spent a lot of time and effort converting it into a liveable space. The idea had been to sell it, but no one was interested in living so far away from the major cities. So, under the advice of his estate agent, he rented it out for short holidays. 

So far, it had been quite lucrative. With the money he made from that and his own job, he could afford chocolate whenever he wanted. 

The holiday season was coming, and he already had two weeks booked out. He tended to get a lot of city dwellers looking to get away from it all or families trying to get back to their roots. 

He checked his emails one morning with a fresh cup of tea and a plate of crumpets. HE filtered out the junk and found an inquiry email in his barn folder. He opened it.

A man was looking to hire the barn for the full summer and all of September as well. He was looking at three months of solid booking. It was a shame he couldn’t offer it, having already booked those two weeks. And he refused to let down his other guests. He typed a reply stating as much. He got a reply back almost instantly, asking if there was somewhere he could pitch a small tent. Mr Black said he would gladly still pay full price while his other guests used the barn. Remus couldn’t believe what he was reading. It seemed too good to be true. He sent a couple of pictures of his personal garden. The views weren’t as good, but it would be sheltered from the worst of the wind, and he could use Remus’s garden furniture. Again, the reply was quick. The man agreed and said he hoped he wouldn’t be any bother. 

Remus sent an invoice and got Mr Black to confirm he agreed to the price, and with the confirmation, he booked out the three months. He sat back with a pleased look on his face as he finished his crumpets. He just hoped that Mr Black would be a good neighbour as it was a long time to deal with a terrible guest. 

July arrived, and with it, a sleek black motorbike and an equally sleek owner. Sirius, as he demanded to be called, settled in instantly. He played his music a little loudly, but as it was to Remus’s taste, he decided to enjoy it. 

Remus found he quite enjoyed Sirius’s company, and they spent nearly every night in Remus’s garden drinking beers. Remus had even started making enough dinner for Sirius, though Sirius had told him he didn’t expect it but did appreciate it as he was useless at cooking.

It turned out that Sirius needed a break from his high-pressure job, which was why he’d come to Remus’s. 

“I hate it. It’s been my life since my mother found out she was pregnant with me. They own the company now, but my brother and I run it. He’s so much better at it than I am, and I swear he’d have such an easier time at it if I quit.” Sirius had admitted to him one August afternoon.

“Then why don’t you quit?” Remus asked as though it were an obvious solution. 

“Everything I own is tied up in the company. If I leave, I lose everything.” He shrugged. “My parents made sure it was that way after I went through a rebellious streak in my teenage years.”

“That’s terrible, Sirius. I wish I could help.” And Remus found he meant it. 

“Don’t fret about it. I’ll muddle through.” Sirius beamed at him as he patted Remus’s leg. “Right, enough feeling sorry for myself. I’m off for a walk. Care to join me?” Remus couldn’t think of any reason not to, so he took the proffered hand, and they strolled towards the village. 

Remus showed Sirius some of his favourite childhood haunts just off the beaten track, and they spent a wonderful afternoon in the thick foliage. 

Soon, the first week came around when Sirius would have to sleep in his tent. And, of course, the worst storm to hit Wales in over a hundred years decided to arrive that night. 

The trees were whipping back and forth, creaking and groaning. The fence surrounding Remus’s garden swayed dangerously. Remus refused to let Sirius stay out in this. He flung open the back door and yelled into the downpour. 

“Sirius! Sirius!” A face popped out of the zippered entrance of the tent. “Get in here!” Sirius shook his head. 

“I’m all good. Don’t fret.” 

Lightning cut across the sky, lighting the dark ground with its answering thunder not far behind. 

“Sirius, please! I won’t be able to sleep knowing you’re out here!” 

Suddenly, Sirius was streaking across the lawn and ran straight into Remus’s arms, knocking the lanky man back a few steps. Lighting flashed across the sky again and then another and another. The last bolt hit the cherry blossom tree in Remus’s garden, and a huge branch fell off and crushed the tent Sirius had been in moments before. 

“Yeah, probably a good call that Remus,” He joked. “Shall I put the kettle on?” Remus decided, not that he had much choice, that Sirius would be staying in his spare bedroom for the remainder of the two weeks. Maybe longer if the look Sirius was giving him meant what Remus thought it did. That night, they sat, snuggled up together on Remus’s tiny sofa in front of a roaring fire, sipping mugs of hot chocolate and listening to the storm wailing around them.  

#ahhhhh #it is sooooo cute! #i want a holiday in that barn #wolfstar

[anemonenemerosa]

which one of u was going to tell me that tea tastes different if u put it in hot water?

#every time I’m reminded that not everyone uses a kettle it sends me #what?! 😅

[anemonenemerosa]

For what it’s worth, Draco tries not to be in love with him.

Once the war ends, the world is dim and hazy and wild. For two months, it rains incessantly in Wiltshire. Draco watches his mother’s rose garden flag and flutter, run amok with weeds and ivy from his bedroom window. He spends May and June not doing much of anything but staring— out the window, at his ceiling, at his parents when they try to coax him to dinner. House arrest is not a death sentence, but Draco is empty and vacant and a little dead anyway.

He thinks of Harry sometimes. Harry, limned in fire on a broom, reaching for him, Harry, dead, not dead, clambering to his feet, wand raised, calling the Dark Lord Tom, Harry, who had met his eyes over the Aurors’ shoulders as they handcuffed him to accompany him to the Manor until the Wizengamot had the time to figure out what to do with the Malfoys. Harry, and the world winces into sharper focus, bleak and dull and unbearable. Draco tries, for all he’s worth, not that it’s much, to stop thinking of Harry when that happens.

There’s the trial. Harry Potter is in a suit, his hair damp and brushed and unfamiliar. He speaks for Draco and his mother. Draco recognises the image of Narcissa emerging in Harry’s testimony— haughty and determined and fearful and loving, a mass of contradictions worthy of exoneration after the payment of some hefty fines. His own image he recognises in snapshots and flashes— scared, yes, Merlin, yes, indoctrinated from a young age, that too, in the grip of something bigger than himself, yes, he’s never felt so small. There are other things Harry says, new, like an ill-fitted outfit hanging off him— brave when it mattered, really? and never killed anyone, technically true but the intent was there all through sixth year, doesn’t he deserve to be punished for that? and helped in bringing down the fall of Tom Riddle at great personal risk, a tall order at best, an embellished lie at worst.

Harry believes in a man Draco isn’t sure he ever was. The Wizengamot seems to believe him, and he’s exonerated too, with a magic-monitoring charm on his wand for eighteen months.

No one testifies for Lucius. He goes to Azkaban. Draco watches, dispassionate, as the Aurors handcuff his father again. Lucius watches him back, equally dispassionate. “Take care of your mother,” he says before he’s pulled away, and Draco manages a short, tight nod. That’s that.

Love, or the situation about Harry Potter as Draco takes to calling it, begins two more months after the trials.

“Malfoy,” says Harry, the picture of wide-eyed surprise. They’re in a bar on Knockturn. Pansy, Blaise and Theo finally dragged him here, Draco you need to leave that stuffy old Manor for your own good.

“Harry Potter,” Draco says, because he can’t bring himself to call him Potter anymore, and Harry sounds awkward outside his head.

“It’s good to see you,” says Harry, a sudden grin stretching across his face. Draco has to blink the light of it out of his eyes. “You’re looking better.”

It starts then, in the bar. The stirrings of life in a dead man. It’s annoying and brutal and the kind of thing that keeps Draco waking up and getting himself out of bed every morning and the nightmares occasionally at bay.

They run into each other at the bar, over and over, and each time, Harry begins conversation. Each time, it lasts a few minutes longer, until they’re spending half an hour or more chatting over drinks at the counter. Or, rather— Harry chats, Draco listens and tries not to let his heart spring out of his chest. Each time, Pansy looks considering, Blaise rolls his eyes and Theo peers studiously into his drink when he comes back. Draco wonders if Harry’s friends have their own set of patented reactions and if they’re half as lenient as his friends’.

Draco starts sleeping with Theo about it, eventually. Which is to say Draco starts sleeping with Theo hoping the sex will take his mind off dark hair and green eyes and that rapid, quicksilver smile. It doesn’t help that Theo has dark hair and blue eyes, and smiles at Draco like the sun. It makes him ache with want and loss, and the sex is great, but Draco has to end it within a few weeks.

“It’s Potter, isn’t it,” Theo says when Draco tells him.

There’s no point denying it, so Draco doesn’t. “It’s not you,” he says, and Theo’s lightly amused baleful glare is enough for their friendship to remain stable, if a little stilted.

Blaise takes him shopping and Pansy brings him alcohol and when Greg starts stepping out of his house again, he tells Draco awkwardly, “Well, Potter’s missing out, isn’t he?” Millicent, who starts coming to pub nights gives Draco a once-over and tells him he needs to get a job. Daphne tries to set him up with her sister, and takes it astonishingly terribly when Draco tells her he’s sure Astoria’s lovely, but has an entirely wrong set of bits.

“You should be more open minded,” she tells him, sniffing. “Astoria‘s open minded!”

Draco can only think to blink at her.

Harry’s in the papers almost every day. Sometimes because he gives speeches, but mostly because The Prophet’s society section can’t think to write anything better than “Harry Potter spotted in Diagon’s Sunday Market, with turnips! Turn to page 6 for seven delicious recipes that make fresh and inventive use of the Chosen One’s Chosen Veg!”

It’s all well and good except for the part where the accompanying photos of Harry, scowling or blank or frustrated or very occasionally, smiling at children, sends Draco’s body into overdrive. He finds himself tracing the line of Harry’s mouth, the tops of his cheekbones, his hairline. He thinks his mother notices, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Would you like to get a drink sometime?” Harry asks.

They’re not at the bar. They’re in a cafe and Draco is reading a horrible romance novel at the window.

“We get drinks all the time,” Draco says. He wants to step on his own toes.

“Yeah,” Harry says, laughing. He runs his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, course, just— I was wondering if you maybe wanted to. You know. Just us.”

“Just us?”

“Forget it,” Harry says, and sighs. He turns away and turns back. “It was good seeing you, Malfoy.” He turns away again.

“Harry,” Draco says. The look on Harry’s face when he turns back again is wide-eyed surprise again, like that first time in the bar. “I— a drink sounds lovely.”

Harry looks uncertainly pleased.

“Just not on Knockturn,” Draco says.

“We could go to Hogsmeade,” Harry says. He’s— the ridiculous man— bouncing on the balls of his feet, fidgety and buoyant and beautiful. “Or London. The Muggle bit. Or Diagon, really, but the reporters—” He grimaces.

I’ll go anywhere with you, Draco wants to say. “Anywhere,” he says instead, hacked short and inadequate.

But Harry smiles at him like he’s the sun. The persistent ache throbbing through Draco abates for a moment.

So this is peace, Draco thinks. Meets Harry’s smile with his own, wonders how Harry thinks it looks. There you are.

for the @drarrymicrofic prompt, “cranes in the sky”. this is a little all over the place and i’m not particularly happy with it, but here’s a decidedly-not-microfic about failing at not being in love with harry james potter. oh draco, you’re exactly like me.

#drarry #drarry fic #draco x harry

[anemonenemerosa]

#i sort my books by vibe

[anemonenemerosa]

You can tell when someone’s frame of reference for “normal people” is more “people at the church sponsored ice cream social” and less “people on the bus”

#what a journey

[anemonenemerosa]

“Are you,” Harry said, and swallowed, “are you fucking with me?”

Draco let out a shivering breath. “No,” he said, and added quickly and worried, “but since we’re being so communicative tonight and given your -- insane and thrilling honesty policy, I thought I should tell you that I’m still not very good at, um, monitoring my emotions or managing anything half-hearted with respect to you, so if you keep this up I’m probably going to fall in love with you, which will be very awkward for everyone involved.”

“Er,” Harry said. “Well. Wouldn’t mind.”

“Oh,” Draco said.

—Nice Things, by Aideomai

Love this fic so much. It’s like a warm hug.

#A very good read #drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction

[anemonenemerosa]

Hmmm AU idea—Sirius escapes Azkaban during PS/SS. He paddles to shore, battling the waves and whatever, and stops to rest at a small island with a shack. The shack, however, is currently occupied by a family, and he would have taken his leave immediately if he hadn’t seen a familiar-looking boy who’s been made to sleep on the dirt floor…

#harry potter #ohhhhhhhh #intrigued #I'd say I want to write this but then it would never happen

[anemonenemerosa]

“Harry - you have no reason to believe anyone at Hogwarts knows where Malfoy is!” Hermione said, exasperated, when Harry begged her to help him, “And this is dangerous. Don't you remember how they used Sirius for bait last year? If they think you'll run after and try to save Malfoy - don't you think they'll do something to him?”

Harry glowered and ran this theory by Sirius.  “If he agreed to join them, though,” Harry argued, “Wouldn't they protect him?”

“You think the Death Eaters would give up an opportunity to further their goals just to keep Draco safe?” Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow. Harry did not like his tone.

“He's Lucius Malfoy’s son! They like him!”

Sirius laughed then, shaking his head, “Oh, kid, no. They don't. Lucius was powerful so it was worth brown nosing. Now he's pissed off Voldy and disgraced. No. Most Death Eaters would hurt Draco just for fun - you do not want to think about what they'd do if it got you into their clutches.”

Harry felt ill at the thought, rubbing his forehead and wishing there was something he could do.

Read more at AO3

#harry potter fanfiction #harry potter

[anemonenemerosa]

Oh my goddddd, I started a “Regulus survived” fic about four years ago and never got more than 20 pages in, but I just reread it this morning and I’m PISSED that 2020 me did not continue it. I am COMPELLED by this fic.

It was an AU where Kreacher brought the half-drowned Regulus back to Grimmauld Place, and Mrs. Black hid him and sent him off to hide with Cassiopeia Black who had also faked her own death. From there, he spends the next decade and a half hunting down precious treasures for his greedy great-aunt in exchange for her discretion. He roams the Balkans for years. He gets all leathery from being in the sun. He eventually bumps into Dumbledore and, cover blown, is blackmailed into helping Dumbledore find and destroy Horcruxes. It was supposed to take place during PoA. There was SUPPOSED to be a violent, emotional reunion between Sirius and Regulus. BLOOD would’ve sprayed. They would’ve YELLED.

WAhhhhh

#regulus black #fanfic #please do

[anemonenemerosa]

Even when they aren’t getting along I believe that Harry and Draco always treat it as a Fact TM that the other is extremely fit and are always shocked if anyone doesn’t share that opinion. Once they get together they are even more shocked to discover each considers the other one to be the attractive one in the relationship.

#drarry #Harry Potter #Draco Malfoy #makes sense

[anemonenemerosa]

asexual wolfstar where sirius always gets bored during sex and remus always gets sleepy but they do it anyway because that’s just what you do, right? and then one day they lock eyes in the middle of it and have a ‘wait, do we even like sex?’ moment and realise that it’s actually the post-sex cuddling they look forward to, and they can just do the post-sex cuddling without the sex part…

#wolfstar #asexuality

[anemonenemerosa]

let me always be with you

Based on "Annie's Song" by John Denver. This song holds a lot of childhood nostalgia for me, and while I tried to stay true to the romance, I hope you feel the same tenderness reading this fic that I do when I listen to this song.

Draco rises easily and early these days. Long gone are the nights when the moon was his sun, and the daytime was slept away behind blackout curtains and a silk eye mask. Now, his body pulls him toward rest not long after the sun has set, and it brings him into the dawn with enough time to appreciate the pinkening sky over a cup of Earl Grey.

Harry is a heavier sleeper. Draco used to tease him about it a little before Harry confided in him about sleepless nights spent in a cramped, dark cupboard; after that, Draco stopped setting an alarm on the weekends and held Harry a little tighter when they went to bed each night.

Draco's favorite morning pastime, on days when he swears the sun rises a little slower, is to watch Harry sleep. To see him take his rest. Harry looks younger when he sleeps, despite the slight gray at his temples and his deepening laugh lines. Draco likes to think they're aging backward as well as forward; making up for lost time.

When Draco has stared his fill, he settles back into bed. Harry's arms reach for him, wanting Draco close even in his subconscious state, and it never fails to hit Draco's heart with a pang of tenderness.

Draco burrows his head against Harry's chest, letting that hard-earned, steady heartbeat lull him back to sleep. Outside, the sky invites a little more light to creep through the clouds.

#drarry #so tender #so soft #i'm melting

[anemonenemerosa]

This was a palate cleanser