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emeritusemeritus · 5 months

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Vulnera Sanentur [Weasley Twins x Reader]

Part 12

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Title: Vulnera Sanentur

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley {established relationship}

Timeline: DH1&2- Initially set during the battle of the seven potters. Canon and certain plot points have been altered for the needs of the story.

Summary: The battle of the seven Potters throws your world into chaos when one of your boyfriend’s is cursed. As Snape’s ex-potions assistant and previous protégée, you recognise the inflicted curse immediately and demand answers from your mentor.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of war and Voldy, descriptions of injury and blood, descriptive smut, p in v sex, shower sex, tension. Outside sex. Semi public sex. None sexual nudity. Crying. Snape has a soft spot for reader. Arguments. Probably some cursing. Mentions of nightmares. Reader is part of the Order of the Phoenix. Mentions of death (Dumbledore). Mentions of Tonks’ pregnancy. On it got a angsty. So much angst I can’t tag it all. Not spellchecked nor beta read, we die like Madeye.

We stan older brother Bill 🖤

"You should have seen her, she was bloody brilliant!" Fred says excitedly from beside you.

"Yeah took her down like it was nothing! 3 blasts and she was gone!" George adds with an identical excited look on his face, his fresh mug of tea nearly spilling out as he raises his hands in excitement as he speaks.

"You were very brilliant dear," Arthur says, leaning down to press a timid kiss to his wife's blushing cheeks. The family had just recounted the demise of Bellatrix Lestrange at the hands of the Weasley matriarch and you looked up at Molly with a proud smile, in awe of the lengths she'd go to to protect her family.

"But you four, can you tell us everything now?" Arthur says, looking between you, Harry, Ron and Hermione. You feel their eyes flicking between each other and you but you don't look to them, choosing instead to look towards Bill who is already looking at you supportively, as if anticipating your trepidation at telling your story. He never knew much, only that it was the snake that had caused your anguish and your injury but you could always tell that he knew it was more, just polite enough not to pry. He offers you a soft, encouraging smile that you mirror, turning towards the others who have already begun recounting the tale.

There's a few interruptions from Molly, especially when Ron tells her about how he left the three of you during Winter as she leans over and hits him across the arm but you are hardly listening, knowing all too well that the part about Godric's Hollow will come up soon enough.

"Does anyone want another drink?" Bill says suddenly, standing up and interrupting Hermione as she begins to explain the decision to go to visit Harry's parents graves. "Perhaps we should offer to help get everyone home, get the Floo network going," he says after a few murmuring replies to his original question. It's obvious to you what he's doing and you shoot him an appreciative look, seeing him subtly wink back at you in understanding.

Kingsley had managed to get the anti-apparition and disapparition jinxes temporarily removed from the school grounds so that people could disapparate to get home, freeing up the limited number of other transportation methods that were almost immediately used up to get the younger students back to their families.

"Good idea son," Arthur says, slapping his knees before standing up and gathering Percy, who'd made a full recovery, Bill, Fleur and Fred and George to help him. The twins looks apprehensive to leave you but you pushed them off with a smile.

"Go, you need to learn a thing or two to fix ours at home," you said, playful sarcasm dripping from your voice. The floo network was tricky back at the flat and only seemed to connect to various places on a whim, like the moving staircases in the school.

The word home tumbled naturally from your mouth and filled you with a warmth you hadn't felt in some time, daydreaming of your large, warm bed with two indentical figures beside you. A proper hot meal, filling and appetising, a hot shower and a long sleep, all of which were very overdue.

Molly went to grab another hot drink with Ginny and you looked at your little team beside you, noticing that there were varying levels of happiness amongst them. Ron looked jubilant at reuniting with his family, as he should, and sharing your stories, filling them in on everything he'd not been able to tell them all this time. Hermione looked tired but happy, again glad to be able to explain what had happened, reflecting herself as if she was narrating a memoir in her mind. Harry, quite frankly, looked frustrated. You sensed the same frustration in him that you felt within yourself.

You slid over to him on the bench, careful not to disturb or shock him but just to offer a quiet comfort as Ron and Hermione debated what kind of dragon you'd escaped on during the skirmish at Gringotts.

He smiled at you warmly as he noticed you sliding in closer beside him but his smile didn't meet his eyes, only further proving your point.

"You feel it too don't you? Just wanting to get away, for some peace and quiet?" You asked quietly, leaning in to him slightly.

"Love some," he says with a subtle nod, eyes fixed on the table in front of him. Ever since you'd returned it had been a constant stream of people congratulating you, the outpouring of thanks and affection, spending time with the bereaved and shaking hands, especially for Harry who had been the saviour of them all. It hadn't occurred to anyone that you had all not slept, hardly eaten or taken a calming breath since before you entered Hogsmeade what seemed like days ago.

"You have your cloak don't you?" You said quietly, eyes flickering up to his as you waited for confirmation. "I'll distract them."

He looks at you very briefly with an affectionate and appreciative glance and you smile, tiredly, before shouting over the table to get the attention of your friend, loud enough for the people around you to take notice.

"Luna!" You call out, pointing with your finger out of the cracked, glass window, "wasn't that a Blibbering Humdinger?!"

There's a breeze that drifts past you and a warm hand placed on your shoulder for just a moment and you smile to yourself as you no longer see Harry, the cloak covering his form entirely as he glides through the hall without interference, able to escape temporarily to get some peace, hoping that you'd soon get the same allowance.

The Weasley men returned a little while later after fixing the floo and you found yourself unwittingly dragged into a family wide argument about where everyone would be going. Molly had tried to convince everyone to go back to the Burrow, to stay at least for the night to rest and recuperate but you knew this was a guise, that it would never be just one night. You knew that she wanted her children around her, you could hardly blame her for that after everything you'd all been through but you just wanted to go home. It had been months since you'd last slept in your bed, just the three of you and you felt yourself getting less and less reasonable as the hope of what you wanted faded away, though you remained silent on the matter.

Fortunately, it appeared that Fred was also just as desperate to go home as you were, having lived at Muriel's for far too long under Order protection, something he was very vocal about despising. He managed to talk Molly around with the promise that you would all go to the Burrow tomorrow night, spending your first night back at home. You tuned out the conversation out moment that she began excitedly planning what she would make for dinner that night, looping through everyone's favourite meals and how she could incorporate them in.

You tried your hardest to not be rude or sulky but the longer you sat there, the more irritated you were getting, desperate to be alone again or at least with only a chosen few for company, beginning to feel overwhelmed by the large group.

You were painfully exhausted, both physically and mentally, feeling like the months of hiding and fighting, every horror you had seen and lived through was now taking its toll on you. Your shoulder hurt again, though thankfully not like before. It was tender and sore, like it was beginning to heal and finally knit together. You rolled your shoulder subtly, trying alleviate the ache and found yourself standing and walking over to the drinks table on autopilot, just for something to do, for a little headspace.

"Tough girl," Bill nods as he moves to stand beside you, filling up his own mug which you noticed was far from empty, your eyes squinting a little in suspicion. "Do you want it numbing?" He asks quietly, leaning in so that no one would hear, looking pointedly at your shoulder, having sensed your discomfort. You immediately want to say yes but hesitate, mortified to strip down to your shirt in front of everyone. You look up at him and he nods, understanding your conflict, before shooting you a wink.

"I'm borrowing y/n," Bill says towards the group, most notably the two twins who had begun immediately frowning, "I'll keep her safe," he teased before placing his arm on your good shoulder, "need her expertise, not be long."

He doesn't wait for anyone to reply and gives you a little nod of his head to lead you out from the great hall, guiding you down the corridor, past Filch who had begun sweeping with debris and dust on the floor.

"You need to teach me how to do that," you say with a smile, wrapping your arms around yourself as you fall in step with Bill, "even your mum never questions you." He chuckles with a little shake of his head, guiding you down the staircase with a gesture of his hands to allow you to go first.

"The trick is to be confident in what you're saying, especially with mum. Plus it helps to be the oldest, having so many younger siblings to look after meant that she trusted me more, didn't have the time to watch out for me too so," he says with a shrug.

"That must have been hard though," you say delicately, looking up as he pulls his long hair back away from his face. He shrugs again, his small smile still remaining.

"It's all I've ever known, mainly it was fine until the twins came along, then mum really couldn't split herself as much, if she didn't watch them for even a minute they'd create chaos," he says with a chuckle. You laugh, completely understanding his words as you twist around lower corridors.

"Still do," you joke.

"I don't know, you seem to keep them in line," he smirks and you smile back, appreciating his words. "You're good for them." He stops now and you stop along with him, entering through a door that he'd opened for you.

"They're good for me," you reply fondly, not doubting your statement for even a second.

When you look up, you realise that you're in a classroom just off the potions wing and a little pang of sadness hits you as you think of Severus. Bill shuts the door behind you and you look around at the unfamiliar classroom, never having been in this exact room before.

You take a seat at the larger desk and begin to slowly peel off your jacket, wincing again at the material drags over the newly sealed but tender gashes on your arm and the sore patch on your shoulder. He immediately steps over and grabs the collar of your jacket, helping you peel it away from yourself, over the curve of your shoulder.

You then peel back the collar of your ruined T-shirt, the blood that covered your body now hard and dark against the material as you expose your shoulder to him.

"It looks better," he says, pulling over a stool and sitting down beside you, looking at your wound as you pull down your bra strap that was in the way. "Looks like it's healed up a bit."

You don't reply, only nod as you look away, not wanting to see the mangled flesh. He pulls out his wand and begins tracing the scars, casting a numbing spell and healing enchantments across the flesh. It feels better almost immediately, the throbbing ache and tenderness drifting slowly away until you can no longer feel any pain. Your eyes close on their own accord in relief, only to open a moment later when you feel Bill's cold fingers reaching for your arm. "These are new."

"Snake," you say quietly, watching anxiously as his fingers ghost over the marks on your arm. He doesn't reply and instead moves his wand to to try and clear them using a healing spell, which doesn't do anything. You watch his face as his brows knit together, confusion evident on his face. "It's, the curse, that George had."

You nod, beginning to look away again as you gaze at your boots, feeling an emotion that hovered between sadness and shame.

"It won't heal, not completely," you say quietly, flicking your gaze back to the marks on your arm. "They'll always be there."

"I know the feeling," he says, still looking at your arm even as your eyes flick up to his face, a new wave of guilt tugging at you for your silly remark, momentarily forgetting about the scars that covered his face. "But you learn to live with it." His gaze meets yours and the moment is tender and meaningful as he gives you a tight lipped smile.

"I know what you're thinking, that Fred and George won't find you attractive anymore, that you're different now, changed for the worst. I had the exact same feelings with Fleur. Who would want someone so scarred and ugly?"

Truthfully, you had been thinking that in the back of your mind, but you hadn't let yourself really acknowledge those feelings, only forcing yourself to pull away and never let them see.

"But they'll surprise you and you'll surprise yourself. I never thought Fleur would stay with me after this, someone as beautiful as her should never be stuck with someone like me, disfigured or not. But everyday she surprises me by loving me more, by accepting the scars and proving to me that it's not just about looks, especially when I can't change anything. And you'll find that too, I have no doubt. Fred and George adore you. I never told you when you were with us, I wasn't entirely honest about how much they missed you, how badly they took you being away. They weren't the same, hardly joked and just sat staring into nothing most of the time, they even fell out with each other a few times, which I'd never known them to do."

You felt another, more intense wave of guilt hitting you until he spoke again.

"I'm not saying this to upset you, it's the last thing I want to do. But you need to know just how much they adore you. They'd have given anything to have you back, done anything, they tried so hard. So, a few scars are really nothing in the bigger picture. You're back together, that's all that matters. And overtime you'll see that too, learn to live with them. The external scars and the ones on the inside too."

You can't stop the tears that threaten to spill at his words, feeling both broken and put back together by his speech.

"You're so strong," he says, reaching out to place his hand on your good shoulder. "The things you've done, what you've seen and lived through, most people out there couldn't even fathom. But you're here and you made it, there's a reason I call you tough girl," he says with a smirk. "Everyone says it but if you ever need someone to talk to, for anything at all, you have me. It's not always easy to open up to the people we love but sometimes someone familiar but not too close feels more comfortable to open up to."

"Not too close," you say with a snort, feeling empowered and comforted by his words, "I'd say we're pretty close now." He chuckles and nods, taking his hand off your shoulder to slide his wand back into his pocket.

"You're family," he says with a shrug and a smirk, mirroring how he'd said it to you all that time ago in Shell Cottage, making you smile. "I know the memories of Shell Cottage aren't the happiest for you but you're welcome anytime, if you ever need space or an escape. Hopefully in the future we can replace those bad memories with good ones, memories where we are all together."

You're more than touched by his words, rendered speechless at his abundant and unwavering kindness as you try to find the words to thank him, knowing nothing would ever be good enough. There's a look shared between you and you hope understands completely what you're trying to say, hoping your eyes convey every ounce of gratitude he deserves. He nods his head gently, understanding, and smiles as if you'd thanked him a million times over.

"Is there anything else I can do?" He asks, gaze flicking down to your exposed shoulder but you shake your head, knowing he'd already done so much. "No zouwu scratches or thornback bites? And here I was thinking you were an expert beast slayer." You laugh and nudge him playfully, glad for the unlifting banter.

"Let's get back, you need be home and go rest." He stands up from the stool and replaces it under tbe desk he'd pulled it from, walking over to reach for the door.

"Bill, wait," you say, standing up from the chair, a sudden alarming thought making panic erupt in your previously relaxed mind. "Severus, his body, I can't leave him there."

Reasonably you know that your sentence probably made no sense to him as he didn't know what had happened but the sadness in your voice pulled at your own heartstrings, never mind his. He immediately nodded and reached out for your hand, signalling for your to take him with you.

You placed your hand in his and thought of the boathouse, the pair of you immediately surging through dimensions and space until you landed with a crack outside of the boathouse, overlooking the small shack that you were certain would haunt you forever.

"Stay here," Bill says, still keeping a hold of your hand as he squeezes, knowing that you wouldn't be able to look again at Snape's body. You pulled out your wand and reverse the concealment spells that you'd placed there, the shielding charm working to hide his body from anyone who may have wished him harm.

You had no idea what Bill did or how the ministry was organising collection of the deceased but you trusted Bill to do the right thing on your behalf. You looked out at the water of the lake, watching the slight movement of the tranquil water, a stark contrast to the billowing waves and roiling undercurrent that had been present during the last time you were here.

Bill walked out soon after with a tight lipped smile and a nod, reaching out his hand for you to take. You paused to look once more at the cracked glass windows still stained with blood before you placed your hand into his and disapparated.

"Right, I don't know about anyone else but I'd like to be getting off, darling what do you think?" Bill says as you walk back to your extended family in the hall, Bill turning to Fleur in the hope that she would agree. From there, everyone seems to follow his lead and you can't help but chuckle as he shoots you a wink, proving once again that he was right about the confidence thing.

"Ready to go home Angel?" George says, moving to stand in front of you, his left hand clutching your waist and pulling you slightly into him as his right hand comes up to pull back the hair from your face, his thumb tenderly stroking over your face. The very mention of home makes you feel a deep rooted excitement and you smile wearily as you nod, the anticipation of a hot shower and long sleep feeling well within your grasp now. You reach out for Fred who stands just behind George and pull him in, rest your head between their shoulders as their hands rest across your tired body, your entire being melting into their warm embrace.

"Right everyone, don't forget, tomorrow evening at 5pm, not a moment later!" Molly calls out after everyone has said their goodbyes, reminding you all of the promise you'd made. You wave goodbye again and walk out to a secluded part of the hall so that the three of you could disapparate together, your hands joined tightly.

With a smile at your loved ones beside you, you picture the spot just outside of the shop where you were able to apparate into and closed your eyes, feeling yourself stretched and pulled until your appeared looking up at the bright orange building.

Diagon Alley was decimated and deserted, most of the buildings falling into disarray, either abandoned in fear or destroyed by death eaters. Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes had been left virtually untouched, with only a singular broken window on the third floor where the confectionary was usually displayed though from the outside everything looked to be relatively unharmed. The bleak, dark street filled with empty or ransacked shops did seem to dim the brightness of the shop however, making it look much less vibrant and exciting as you remembered it.

"Princess?" You hear Fred say gently, pulling you out of your thoughts as you turn in his direction, seeing both of them watching you in concern. You gave them a small smile and moved forward to where George was casting the unlocking charms so that you could all enter and lock yourselves away back home.

Stepping back inside the shop was still impressive as ever, even without the lights and the effects playing in the windows, no music or vibrant chatter from the excited customers. The smell was the same comforting blend of cleanliness, whizzbang smoke and comforting vanilla, mixed with a hint of Fred and George, a perfect combination. The twins quickly surveyed the shop, checking that nothing was damaged or unaccounted for as you made your way up the stairs, feeling a slight hesitation in yourself.

You realised that for the first time in so long that you would be alone, just you, George and Fred. Could it ever be the same? Would they punish you or act different to you now after you'd left them? Would your life ever go back to normal after everything you'd faced without them?

All of your spiralling thoughts were silenced the moment you unlocked the door to the apartment with your wand, seeing and smelling the comforting things all around you of home. It wasn't the tidiest you'd ever seen it but you understood that they'd had to pack quickly and leave immediately to flee to the safe house, as you'd been told by Arthur.

"I'm sorry it's not," George begins to say from behind you but you stop him, interrupting without turning.

"It's perfect."

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tessimagines · 1 year

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The Days That Follow // Remus Lupin

Summary:

“There was a before you and there was a during you. For some reason, I never thought there would be an after you.”

They say that grief has five stages: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. Over the course of a year after her husband’s death, (Y/N) Lupin goes through all of them.

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader

Warnings: A WHOLE TON OF ANGST, character death, grief, mourning and depression

Word Count: 3.8k

Masterlist | Harry Potter Masterlist

A/N: For my first imagine after coming back to writing I thought I would brake all of your hearts. Enjoy (if you can?)

Denial

May 2nd, 1998

It’s his pale, lifeless hand spread out on the cobblestone that your eyes fixate on. Not his face, not his hair, not his body. They stare at the hand that had run it’s fingers through your hair only a few hours ago. The thumb that had brushed along your jawline after your final kiss. The palm you had squeezed before the battle had separated you.

It looks cold. Dust coats it, and you can see black grime underneath each fingernail. Small patches of blood litter their way across the skin. That skin used to have colour, but now it appears to have been bleached free of it.

For the first time you feel the sharp pain of the air that is caught in your throat. It is muffling any sound right now, but you know as soon as you let it out you wont be able to help but scream.

It is almost as if time has slowed down around you. You cannot make out any sounds, just a constant hum of noise. The Great Hall is full of bodies, lined up one after another. Each one has its own group of mourners, but you don’t see them. Your eyes only see your husbands hand on the floor.

Suddenly, your knees are on the ground beside him. You reach out and grab the hand in front of you. Your fingertips glide along his skin, searching for any point of warmth, of life.

This isn’t real. It’s another nightmare, brought forth by the anxiety of war. Every second you spend holding his hand, the blurrier your vision gets. But tears would mean that this is real, not some cruel mind game you know it has to be.

“No,” you say. Your voice is hoarse and strained. “No, he isn’t dead. He can’t be.”

Nobody says a word. For the first time, you let your eyes stray from his hand. They flicker to his face. It’s just as pale, just as lifeless as his hand. His eyes are open and glassy, staring up towards the ceiling of the Great Hall.

“No,” you say the word again. It seems to be the only word you can say or think. “No, no, no.”

You drop his hand to the floor and reach towards his chest, your fingers griping the edge of his ragged blazer. Dust and soot has sunk deep into the fabric and new holes line it’s surface. Underneath he wears his green knit sweater. That had been a Christmas present from Molly. It was brown from the dust and the dirt now, and when you touched it, the particles came to line your hands.

You grip onto the clothes of his chest. You’re shaking them now, like the action will wake him. All he needs is to take one breath, one deep breath and it will be okay.

You can feel his name in your mouth. You’re repeating it over and over again, every time louder. As your voice grows, so does the violence with which you shake his body. Your cheeks are wet, there is no point holding back the tears now.

“(Y/N),” Hermione is saying behind you. She places her hands on your shoulders, trying to pull you back from your husband’s body. “(Y/N), please, he’s gone.”

You’re back to saying no again. It’s seems like the only rational thing you can say. “No, no, no, he’s not. He’s going to be fine. He has to be.”

You wiggle your way out of Hermione’s grip but now Kingsley Shacklebolt has his arms around you. He pulls you away from Remus, whispering in your ear. “(Y/N), look at him. He’s gone.”

You stop struggling and lean your head against Kingsley’s broad chest. Your breaths are sharp and jagged. You hand grips onto Kingsley’s forearm.

He’s right. Your eyes search your husband’s face. While it looks like him, with the same features you had grown so used to, there was something missing. No light, warmth or emotion.

Remus Lupin is dead.

Anger

May 13th, 1998

The glass vase hits the floor with a crash, shards splintering off and dispersing across the wooden floor. You can feel a few sharp tickles of tiny glass pieces falling on the tops of your bear feet. Water is now trickling amongst the shards of broken glass.

You look down at the mess below you, your eyes focusing on the half-dried pink peonies that are scattered through it. They were a present from Arthur. Perhaps, he had thought the beauty of them would make you feel just a little bit better. Or maybe, he thought the gesture of giving them to you would be a reassurance that he was there for you. But really, all you could take note of was the look of pity sewn into his features as he held them out to you.

You pushed all of the air out of your lungs in a single, loud huff. The pain of being alone, of not seeing him, of not being able to talk to him was suffocating. Day-to-day life had become more than just a struggle. Little things that you would normally pay no attention to had become some of the biggest annoyances.

It feels as though there is a constant scream sitting in your throat. Your chest is constantly heavy, your face is constantly hot and flushed. Your nerves are continuously active, feeling every little thing that brushes by your skin. Your own body has become a constant source of it’s own antagonism.

The idea of him not being here with you is unbearable. The idea of never looking at his face, never feeling your hands on his chest, never hearing words come out of his mouth again causes not just an emotional pain, but a physical one. It feels like every fibre in your body is being pulled apart by that swelling anger.

You feel tempted to reach across and press one of your feet down on some of the sharp shards of glass. Perhaps that would provide a release for the boiling emotions coursing through your body every moment. Blood and anger will seep out in a red, burning mix.

Teddy stirs in the next room. The loud crash of the vase has woken him up. What starts as soft mumbles of discomfort turns into piercing loud screams that echo around the otherwise silent house. You place a hand to your face for a moment, close your eyes and try to quell that rising anger in your stomach.

You walk towards the door, cursing whatever or whoever caused you to be doing this on your own.

Bargaining

April 25th, 1998

“Oh, it’s chilly out here.” Molly wraps her cardigan closer around herself as you watch her sit down beside you. “You should be wearing a coat if you’re going to sit outside.”

You offer her a half-smile and turn your gaze back to the rolling hills outside The Burrow. It’s night but the moon is bright, so you can still see the silhouette of each of them. Hundreds upon hundreds of stars litter the sky above you.

Molly places a hand on your shoulder before wrapping it around your upper arm. “You’re doing so well, dear. We’re all so proud of you.” She leans her face in closer as she says it, the tip of her nose just touching your ear.

You open your mouth to say something, but no words seem to take form. Instead, you reach your other hand up to place it over hers. You swallow sharply, stifling what you can of an inevitable cry.

“Oh, here, here,” Molly puts an arm around you, pulling you towards her. She presses your head down on her chest and coos like a mother comforting an upset toddler.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper the apology through the material of Molly’s cardigan.

“Don’t you dare apologise. I’m serious. You are doing so well, okay?” You nod against her chest.

“I could have done something, you know. If I was with him during the battle, I could have stopped it. Whoever it was, I could have stopped them. He would still be here.” Molly shakes her head, reaching up to place her hand on the side of your face.

“No, no, don’t start that. You could not have done anything, (Y/N).” She holds you tight against herself. The woman is maternal instinct personified.

“I could have. I could have begged him to stay home with Teddy and I. Teddy would have a father, instead of just me.” Your voice breaks at the last bit. If you had begged him hard enough, Teddy would still have a parent he deserves. He would grow up in a happy household, instead of one that is haunted by a ghost.

“That never would have happened, (Y/N), you know that.” Her voice is strong, trying her best to reassure your racing mind. “Remus died fighting for a cause he believed. He fought to make a world he was happy for Teddy to grow up in. You couldn’t have stopped him, my dear. Just like no one could have stopped you.”

You cry against her, your breaths loud and ragged. She continues to hold you through it, her hand stroking the side of your arm.

Depression

August 12th, 1998

For a second, your brain can’t register the sound coming from the neighbouring room. Your arms reach out into the empty space in the bed beside you, almost like you can push the sound away. After a few more seconds, you recognise the cry of a baby, his screams growing louder and sharper.

You roll over onto your back, raising your hands to rub your eyes back to life. The room is dark and dim, only a sliver of moonlight coming in through a crack in the blinds. It barely lights up the room and you can only see the outline of the door across from your bed.

Teddy continues to scream. You hear the wails ripple through his throat, coming out in a disorganised mess of sound. It echoes throughout the house, into your room and lodges in your ear cannel.

Please, please stop, you think. Just for a single second, please stop.

His cries are relentless. They’re like an endless knock at the door. They want something from you, something you don’t have the energy to provide. The corner of your eyes become wet and you stifle your own, small cry.

A shuffle goes past your door and a little head pokes itself through the crack. You see the red of Molly Weasley’s hair. She had planted herself in the small guest room the last few weeks, trying her best to manage and organise the mess of your life right now while feeling her own relentless grief.

“I’ll get him, dear.” As quickly as she had appeared, she scuttles off again. After a few more seconds, you begin to hear the whisper of her voice and little shushes of comfort. “It’s okay, little one. You’re okay.”

Teddy’s cries begin to settle, and soon enough the house becomes still.

He deserves more, he needs more. What kind of mother can leave her own child to scream like that? What kind of mother has to rely on another woman to comfort her child?

You close your eyes in anticipation of a sleep you know will never come.

September 30th, 1998

The record plays loud and clear, the fast pop song lightening up the living room around you. You have the blinds pulled wide open, bright autumn daylight streaming in through the windows. You bounce your head along to the music, taping your feet together to the beat.

You hold the duster in your hand, brushing it across the old lamp you have beside the couch. You look down at little Teddy in his rocker. He is smiling up at you with his wide gummy grin, watching as you sway to the song enveloping the two of you. You smile back down at him, reaching out and touching one finger briefly to his nose. He giggles, beaming up at you.

“Oh, you’re happy today.” His continuous giggles seem to sound out the blearing music. “Me too, bubs. Me too.”

You continue to dance for him, swinging your arms around ridiculously. It’s almost like his eyes are glistening up at you, pure happiness coming from them.

You turn and begin to dust the mantle of the fireplace, past a vase with fresh daisies. You then see the face-down photo frames resting on the brown mahogany mantle. There is about five of them, all in a row. The hand holding the duster falls down beside your body and you drop it on the floor.

You reach and pick up one of the them, turning the picture to face you. Its a photograph from your wedding day. You’re arm-in-arm with Remus. He is wearing the nicest suit that he owned and you are in your mother’s old satin wedding gown. You can see the little white flower pins you wore in your hair that day glistening in the sun outside the small and modest chapel.

You watch as you look up at Remus beside you, your smile wide and bright. He is beaming down at you as the two of you soak each other up. In the last frame of the captured moment, Remus turns towards the lens. The expression on his face is soft and golden and warm.

You cannot hear the music anymore, or Teddy’s soft giggles. You cannot hold the picture frame or bear to look at the image it contains. You place it back, face down, on the dusty mantlepiece once again.

December 25th, 1998

The cramped living room of the Burrow is buzzing with a warm, cozy energy. It’s not its usual barrage of festive noise but a slow gentle hum, half-smiles on the faces that fill the room. Everyone is trying their best to be happy, trying to make the best of the Christmas holiday. Despite the Christmas food, music and decorations, the absence of Fred and Remus still hangs in the air like an unusual smell.

Teddy sits on your lap, bouncing up and down. His blissful unawareness is the envy of everyone in the room. As he bounces, he begins to babble. Arthur sits on the ground beside him. As Teddy makes nonsensical sounds, Arthur responds with a fake confident understanding.

“Oh, is that right, Teddy? I never would have known!” You laugh and watch as Arthur holds a finger out to your son. He grasps onto it, clenching his fist around it with all of his nine-month-mite.

“Oh, (Y/N),” Molly says. “We have something little for Teddy.” She pulls a little parcel wrapped in brown paper from beside her and passes it towards you.

“Oh, Molly, you didn’t need to do that.” You smile up at her. Her red hair has noticeably more greys then last Christmas. She tries her best to smile warmly, but you can see there is a layer of sadness there.

“Nonsense, of course we did.” You take the present from her hands and place it in Teddy’s lap. You pull the brown parchment apart and smile as Teddy tries his best to help you. He grasps a piece of it in his hand, shaking it around for everyone to see. A chuckle travels around the room.

Inside is a tiny little blue tie and a grey button down shirt, one size too big for the nine-month-old in your lap.

A crooked smile makes its way on Ron’s lips. “Add a rugged little tweed blazer and he’ll be the spitting image of Rem-”

Hermione elbows him in the stomach, cutting off the rest of his sentence. You look up at him, just in time to catch the confused look he gives her. She just shakes her head, “I’m sorry-”

“No, it’s okay. You’re right, Ron.” You try your best to curve your lips into a smile. “We’ll need to get a matching jacket so you can look just like your daddy, huh Teddy?”

You look up at Ron again and offer what you can of a reassuring look. The room has suddenly become quiet except for the constant sound of Teddy’s babbling.

You turn your gaze to Arthur beside you. “Do you mind looking after Teddy for a moment while I go to the bathroom?” He nods and you pass Teddy over to him, watching as he takes his place on the older man’s lap. You slip past the group and up the stairs, heading towards one of the empty bathrooms in the burrow.

The pain builds slowly. Every step you take up the stairs feels heavier, like you have to push your way up. You only just make it to the bathroom and close the door before you give into the weight.

The sobs come in spasms, the air punching its way out of your chest. Every time you think of Remus, this seems to be the outcome. A single thought of him is enough to send you down a spiral of relentless grief. There are no happy memories anymore, only a longing for one more conversation, one more embrace, one more kiss that will never come.

There is a soft knock at the door. You don’t turn your head. You don’t want them to see you like this, eyes red raw and swollen.

Ginny whispers your name, soft and low. You hear her close the door behind her and she makes her way to sit down on the ground beside you. No eyes connect, but you feel her hand slip down, beside your arm, until it clasps onto your own hand. Her thumb gently brushes back and forth upon the skin of your hand, a slow and comforting motion.

You rest your head on her shoulder as she brings her other arm to come around your body. You feel her press her lips against the hair on your head, trying her best to sooth the cries that still flow out of you. “I’m sorry, (Y/N).”

You shake your head dismissively. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not fair what happened. You don’t deserve this.”

You remain silent for a moment, letting her continue to comfort you with affectionate touches. You grasp her hand a little tighter when you speak again. “I’m not the first widow in the world.”

She just kisses you on the head again, pulling you in closer to her. It’s a reassuring feeling. You feel your own cries slow and the clamp around your throat loosen.

“I don’t want people to whisper his name around me. I don’t want him to be a half-spoken memory. I want to be able to remember him. I want to remember his face, his voice, his life without wanting to crawl into that grave with him.”

You look up at her for the first time since she entered the room. Her expression is soft and tender. Your eyes are still wet, tears dangling on the edge. Ginny raises a hand up and rubs them away, placing another gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I just miss my husband.”

Acceptance

May 2nd, 1999

Teddy’s chubby little fist grasps onto your fingers tightly as he dawdles over towards the memorial. His feet stomp on the ground, one after the other, happy to be out and about for the day. He giggles as he goes along, pulling you behind him.

The memorial is long and vast, running the length of an entire wall. Engraved on it’s rough steel surface are the names of those who fell in both the First and Second Wizarding War. The sheer number is overwhelming. As the wall continues on, a separate list gathers at the end. Listed below The Battle of Hogwarts, is a series of 50 or so names.

Today, a group gathers around them. Many of them are familiar, friends or family of the people you had fought beside one year ago today. There is a quiet hush around them all. Teddy’s little giggles cut through them with ease. In his other hand he holds some small dandelions he picked himself. They bounce in his hand with every step he takes.

As you get closer, you reach down and pick your son up, resting him on your hip. He continues to babble as you reach the wall, the names now visible. You scan them up and down until your eyes rest on the name of your husband engraved amongst them. Under his name are a few sentences that try their best to sum up his 38 years of life.

Remus J. Lupin (1960-1998)

Original member of the Order of the Phoenix and former Defence Against the Arts Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Died defending the castle during the Battle of Hogwarts. Survived by his wife (Y/N) and son Edward.

The sentences are simple and blunt for necessity. It feels like an awful generalisation. No person reading this, who didn’t know him in life, would understand the man that Remus Lupin was. A man filled with complexities, so intelligent and kind and pure. No one would know the sound of his laugh or the way he would roll his eyes every time you told a stupid joke. No one would be able to picture the look on his face when he held his son for the first time, or the way he had played with the faint wisps of hair on Teddy’s head.

No. All those moments were just memories you had to hold onto now. Despite the fact that Teddy would never meet his father, never understand what it was like to be in his presence, you were going to make sure that he knew him. Teddy was going to know the man who had given his life to make the world a better place for him to live.

Teddy giggles and reaches his arm out in an uncoordinated jerk. His little fingers land on the engraved name of his father. You smile and press a faint kiss to his head.

The pain will always be there. You understand that now. You will carry it, always, like an open wound that never fully heals. But that is the way it should be. The pain is only there because of how much you had loved Remus in life, and how much you love him still in death. Inside that pain is every kiss you ever shared, every moment in bed beside him, every little dance you did with his hand in yours.

In this way, Remus Lupin will never truly die.

Let me know what you thought! Requests are open for drabbles and headcannons :)

#harry potter imagines #harry potter x reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagines #marauders imagines #marauders x reader #remus lupin #harry potter #marauders #harry potter oneshots #remus lupin oneshots #tessimagines

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nebulablakemurphy · 7 months

Text

Through Love And By Love (Pt. 1)

Draco Malfoy x Fem!OC

Summary: Twenty-Two years ago, Draco Malfoy used the imperius curse to slow Voldemort’s rise to power. No good deed goes unpunished.

Warning: this series contains mature subject matter surrounding the use of the imperius curse, reader discretion advised.

“If you ask me, the most mishandled aspect of the wizarding war, will always be Rosanna McVay’s tragic entanglement to the Malfoy family.” The reporter’s voice booms over the radio.

“Oi, give it a rest.” Their cohost retorts.

“That girl was bred like cattle, she lost her entire life to that family. She fell in love with a monster and Draco Malfoy fell in love with the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. He enjoys her the way a child does a toy.”

“And that is where we disagree. Draco Malfoy sold his soul to the devil, to save Rosanna McVay; and it’s people like you that’ve forced the reopening of this case, after over twenty years!”

“Pish, posh, the trial was rushed and we all know it. The imperius charm is listed as an unforgivable curse for a reason. The minister for magic, at present, recognizes that in a way that Kingsley Shacklebolt failed to.”

“Hermione Granger-Weasley would not open this can of worms of her own accord, but given the recent outcry, her hands are tied.”

Hermione. Rosanna’s best friend since childhood.

“Scorpius.” Another voice calls, not from the radio. This time addressing him directly.

“Mum, I was just-” the boy begins to defend himself.

Rosanna smiles, kindly. “Finish getting ready for the train, it’s almost time to go.”

“Why are we leaving so early?” The train back to school doesn’t leave for hours.

“We’re driving down this year.”

“Driving?” They’ve always taken the floo.

“Photographers from the paper expect us to come through the floo network. This way will be better, less hectic.” Rosanna explains. “Plus, we have a chance for car karaoke.”

“Right,” Scorpius chokes out. Car karaoke…as if she and his father haven’t been running mad, meeting with lawyers, to clear Draco’s name from crimes committed, against her, more than two decades ago.

Rosanna leaves him to it. Scorpius is number five of their six children. The rest daughters, ranging in age from two to twenty-one.

Their eldest, Leo, followed in her mother’s footsteps, as a proud Gryffindor. Joining the Holyhead Harpies after finishing school.

The second born, Arlo, a Ravenclaw; graduated with honors.

Followed closely by the twins, Vega, Gryffindor and Polaris, Slytherin.

Scorpius joined her, in their father’s former house.

And little Corina is far too young to be sorted.

Draco is still in the kitchen, when Rosanna returns. Corina in her high chair, demanding more scrambled eggs, faster than her father can serve her. Pouting unhappily as she waits.

Rosanna passes a hand over her strawberry blonde baby curls, the same shade as her own hair. Making her way over to her husband, leaning against the counter beside the stove.

“What is it, love?” Draco murmurs, feeling the heaviness in the air around her.

“Scorpius…he was listening to the radio. A talk show.”

“Mmm.” Draco hums, in acknowledgment. “They’ll be on about it in the common rooms as well, I suppose. At least he has Albus, Polaris. Vega will have Arlene and Rose, if she needs someone in her house to-”

Rosanna nods, coming to wrap both arms around his waist and resting her head against the expanse between his shoulder blades.

It’s never been this bad. No one following them to snap a photo or beating at the manor doors demanding answers.

In many ways, their story demands attention for it’s riveting and…controversial nature. Perhaps because there are only two people in the world who know what happened in its entirety.

————————————————————————

Rosanna McVay transfers, from Ilvermorny school of witchcraft and wizardry, to Hogwarts at the beginning of her third year. Entirely against her wishes and as a result of her parents, Archer and Dixie, transferring to higher positions within the Ministry of Magic.

"This will be a good change, baby, you'll see." Her mother promises.

At Ilvermorny, students are placed into houses based on the four carvings of the great hall and which reacts to the student in question. The houses represent one part of an entire wizard. Rosanna herself being a proud Pukwudgie, the heart.

Leaving her life, namely her friends and grandmother, who she's always shared a special bond with, to move part way across the world; is the hardest thing Rosanna has ever done. Then again change is never easy.

Once at Hogwarts, she's placed into Gryffindor, the moment the sorting hat touches her strawberry blonde locks.

Rosanna makes new friends among her house mates. Most famously with Ron, Hermione, and Harry; all in her year.

When Rosanna is forced to partner with Draco Malfoy on a class assignment, things go down hill quickly from there.

Fate is tricky that way. Tricky and cruel.

Draco is different. He’s rough around the edges and sharp enough to cut deep where he wants to.

He doesn’t have time for her, the half blood transfer student with whom he’s forced to share half of his grade.

He picks her apart, wondering just how many times he’ll send her off, lip quivering, before the nutter of a professor will stop pairing them together.

But the two of them receive top marks once, twice, three times, four. Rosanna is a good partner, though Draco will never admit it. She works hard and with practice, learns to ignore his jabs.

Until the day she doesn’t. Slapping the quill from his hand, leaving blotches of dark ink on the parchment.

“You’re an asshole.” Rosanna snaps, “I’m getting a new partner.”

“Go right ahead.” Draco waves her away. There’s nothing she can say to the professor that he hasn’t already tried.

A few moments later she returns to the desk, fuming.

“Not getting a new partner after all, McVay?” Draco welcomes her back, with a smug grin.

“Maybe if we start flunking this class he’ll reconsider.”

“You should never cut off your nose to spite your face.” Draco reminds her, “or do they not teach that in America?”

—————————————————————

It becomes a bit of a sport really, getting under her skin. And oh how he does, like a school boy, tugging at his sweetheart’s hair on the playground.

"Do you like butter beer?" Malfoy asks as they're packing up their books for next period.

“Not after you’ve poisoned it.” Rosanna rolls her eyes.

Those big, brown, eyes that send Draco’s insides to a frenzy. If he could… Just once… just to get her out of his system-

"Hogsmeade has the best, straight from the tap." Draco holds her gaze. “Seeing as we’re clearly going to be working together through the end of this year, what harm could one butter beer do?”

His proximity makes her nervous, he can feel it.

Just one time, Rosanna reasons. Just to get him out of her system. “Fine.”

—————————————————————

They kiss, for the first time, behind the little Hogsmeade pub. Realizing too late that they won’t be able to stop.

Kissing Rosanna is brilliant, sweet, like nectar from a forbidden fruit. All swollen lips and flushed cheeks as she pulls away, panting.

“This is a mistake,” she breathes.

“Clearly,” Draco agrees.

But for whatever reason they lean in again.

—————————————————————

This new…tolerance of one another is shocking to their classmates and friends.

“Not to worry about her filthy blood, Draco.” Theodore Nott calls, from his spot lunging on the settee of the Slytherin common room. “I’m sure you can clean it right out of her.”

The room erupts into laughter; hushed whispers follow.

She is one hell of a half blood.

———————————————————-

The Yule Ball presents a unique opportunity for Draco to disappoint his father. He’s going to ask Rosanna, because the thought of Potter’s hands on her waist makes him want to come out of his skin.

Nothing serious though, of course. Lots of purebloods have been known to fool around with those of lesser status before settling down. This was just that.

At least that’s what Draco tells himself as he hand picks a dress for his date. Slipping it into a over sized box and slamming it down on the Gryffindor table, in the great hall, during breakfast.

“Draco?” Rosanna spits up a bit of her pumpkin juice.

“It’s for you to wear to the ball,” he explains. “With me.”

Rosanna shakes her head with a smirk. “Asshole.”

—————————————————————

The night of the Yule Ball they dance until sun up, their feet ache and exhaustion paints their features.

“Thank you for tonight.” Rosanna whispers against his shoulder. She knows this isn’t forever.

“Thank you.” This night, and every night after belongs to her.

—————————————————————

The formation of Dumbledore's Army and the addition of Dolores Umbridge to Hogwarts; creates a unique divide between Draco and Rosanna. Draco takes his place on the inquisitorial squad and Rosanna trains with Harry and their friends, in the room of requirement.

The night they are caught and forced to write lines with Dolores’ special quills, Draco nearly Avadas the old witch.

"Let's see your hand,” Draco snaps. Coming to collect Rosanna the moment they are dismissed.

"It's fine." Rosanna shakes her head at him. "Doesn't hurt."

“You’re lying, let me see.” He insists, consumed by the urge to kiss her wounds; letter for letter.

That’s probably why Lucius finally demands to meet her.

————————————————————

Winter break comes, Rosanna spends the night after Christmas at Malfoy manor. This life simply isn’t for her.

Perhaps that’s why Draco’s parents have allowed her there. To finally scare her away, once and for all.

Though she must admit, if only to herself, that Draco doesn’t really belong here either.

The boy in question creeps into the guest room, where Rosanna is planning her escape. Maybe she’ll tell them she has food poisoning and needs to return home early.

“What are you doing?” Rosanna’s brows furrow at the intrusion.

"Come on." Draco whispers, "there’s something I need to show you." He takes Rosanna's hand, leading her down a number of staircases to the lowest level. It's pitch black save for the light coming from the tip of Draco's wand.

"Are you ready to tell me what the hell it is?" She huffs.

"What do you know about prophecies?" Draco asks.

"Not a lot, but I'm sure you're gonna educate me." Rosanna leans in with renewed interest.

"They're derived from seers, a form of divination. Some are rubbish, the ministry doesn't bother with those. Others are kept in the hall of prophecies." Draco pauses, making sure he hasn't overloaded her with information.

"Following." Rosanna nods, listening intently.

"Only a person about whom a prophecy is made has the ability to remove it from the hall. Same as the prophecy will only speak for those it pertains to. My father keeps it down here." The fair haired boy explains.

"Your dad has a prophecy?" Rosanna asks, tightening the ponytail atop her head.

"No, I do. He brought me down to the ministry last week." Draco moves toward the locked box, on the center shelf of the stained oak bookcase, against the back wall. Producing a crystal ball with white glowing dust inside.

"They call across land and sea." A voice fills the room, the second it touches his hand.

Rosanna cringes when Draco places it into her palm.

"Just listen." He hushes her. Watching in wonder as it continues to speak.

"Born from the dark, through she, redeemed. Born from the dirt, through he, blossoms. Through love and by love, castles will crumble. A lion heart, tried and true; chooses a side the other must lose." The disembodied voice finishes.

"What does it mean?" Rosanna all but tosses the crystal back into its box.

"I was hoping you'd help me riddle that out." Malfoy purses his lips.

The girl wraps both arms around herself, tightly.

"I haven't told my father what it says. I wanted you to hear it first." Draco tells her.

"Do you really think it’s about us?" Rosanna doesn't understand, not really. But she can feel, in her bones, that no good will come from this.

"It spoke for you, same as it did for me. We need to sort out what it means before it's too late." Draco says. "We'll go back to your room and get started."

Part 2

#harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #harry potter #harry potter fanfic #through love and by love #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fic #draco imagine #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x oc #hermione granger #ron weasley #ginny weasley #scorpius malfoy #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #ilvermony school of witchcraft and wizardry

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sunflowerabyss · 4 months

Text

Stuck in Torment

Pairing: Older!Remus Lupin x Reader

Plot: As he grapples with a mysterious time loop forcing him to relive the same tragic day repeatedly, Remus attempts to alter the fateful events in an attempt to save the one he loves.

Warnings: Character death, angst, fluff

_______________________________________________

The Ministry's vast atrium was a battleground, bathed in the harsh glow of flickering spells and the ominous red hue cast by the veiled prophecy. A cacophony of clashing magic, shouts, and echoing footsteps filled the air as the Order of the Phoenix and Harry's group confronted the Death Eaters.

Remus Lupin, a seasoned warrior, moved with calculated grace, his wand cutting through the darkness as he fought alongside his comrades. The familiar faces of Tonks, Moody, and Kingsley Shacklebolt blended into a seamless dance of dueling, a desperate symphony against the looming threat of Voldemort's forces.

Amidst the chaos, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, along with other members of Dumbledore's Army, fought valiantly, their young faces marred by determination. Spells ricocheted off walls, and the occasional yelp of pain underscored the perilous nature of the mission. Remus cast protective charms, his eyes darting across the battlefield, searching for signs of danger.

"Watch your left, Tonks!" he called out, deflecting a curse aimed at her. Tonks shot him a grateful smile, her hair briefly turning a vibrant shade of pink. The Order members, though outnumbered, held their ground, the resonance of incantations and clashes echoing through the atrium.

Harry, fueled by a sense of purpose, surged forward, determined to retrieve the prophecy. Ron and Hermione, their expressions mirroring Harry's determination, followed suit. Remus moved with them, his heart pounding as the fate of the wizarding world hung in the balance.

As they neared the Death Chamber, the tension escalated. Moody barked orders, and the intensity of the battle reached a fever pitch. The Death Eaters fought with ruthless determination, their masks concealing the malevolence within. "Stay close everyone!" Moody grunted out, his eye franticly looking around.

The oppressive darkness enveloped the Ministry of Magic as everyone engaged in a desperate battle against the encroaching Death Eaters. Remus tried to maintain a semblance of control; his senses heightened by the anxiety that gnawed at his insides.

The veil of doom descended when the Death Chamber echoed with the ominous whisper of prophecy, and the skirmish intensified. In the chaos, Sirius valiantly fought alongside his allies, but the tide turned against him. In a cruel twist, Bellatrix Lestrange's wicked laughter echoed through the chamber as she proclaimed, "I killed Sirius Black!" over and over, relishing in the twisted victory.

Remus, panic etching lines across his face, tried desperately to hold back Harry as the young wizard lunged towards the Death Chamber's mystical veil, where Sirius disappeared into an abyss of uncertainty.

"Sirius!" Harry's anguished cry reverberated through the atrium as his godfather disappeared behind the mysterious veil, leaving only the haunting whispers of the otherworldly abyss. The sorrow that filled Remus's eyes mirrored the profound loss that had become an unwelcome companion.

The battle raged on, the flashes of spells and curses painting a chaotic tableau of despair. Amidst the cacophony, Lucius Malfoy emerged, a cold and calculated presence. The air thickened with tension as he locked eyes with you, malice glittering in his gaze. Bellatrix's manic laughter still echoed, but her attention shifted to the impending tragedy unfolding before her.

"I killed Sirius Black!" she shrieked, as if trying to convince herself of her twisted accomplishment. But in the cold, unyielding moment that followed, Lucius, his wand held with deadly intent, turned his attention towards you.

In a gut-wrenching instant, the world seemed to freeze as Lucius unleashed an unforgivable curse. The air crackled with dark energy, green light illuminating the space around you, and Remus, unable to stop the inevitable, cried out in despair. The spell struck you with a merciless force, and as you let out a guttural scream before crumpling to the ground, the weight of Remus's heartbreak hung heavily in the air.

"NO!" Remus howled, the anguish in his voice cutting through the chaos. His attempts to rewrite destiny had once again been thwarted, and the pain of witnessing your death anew tore at his soul.

____________________

The haunting echoes of your final moments reverberated in Remus Lupin's mind as he jolted awake, his heart pounding against his chest. The suffocating darkness of his room at 12 Grimmauld Place provided no solace, and the cold sweat that clung to his skin only intensified the anguish that gripped his soul. For the past four months, Remus had been trapped in a nightmarish loop, reliving the same day over and over again—the day you, his dear friend and confidante, met a tragic end at the hands of a Death Eater.

Dragging himself out of bed, Remus descended the creaking staircase, the chilling memory of your demise still vivid in his mind. Lucius Malfoy's cruel laughter and Bellatrix Lestrange's maniacal glee as they took your life and Sirius Black's echoed through his thoughts like a macabre symphony.

Downstairs, the air was heavy with tension as Snape and you engaged in what seemed like a casual conversation. To an outsider, it appeared normal, but Remus, with his heart still heavy from the repeated loss, found it unbearable to witness your animated chatter. He couldn't help but feel a surge of bitterness at the cruel twist of fate that made him witness your death repeatedly while you remained blissfully ignorant.

Remus forced himself to join the mundane activities of the day, all the while concealing the torment that clawed at his insides. His attempts to change the course of events were futile, and with each failure, the weight of despair pressed down on him like an unrelenting force.

As the day unfolded, you couldn't help but notice the subtle shifts in Remus's demeanor. His usual composed and stoic expression betrayed an underlying turmoil. Concern etched across your face, you approached him, hoping to offer some comfort.

"Remus, are you alright?" you asked, genuine worry in your eyes.

He waved it off dismissively, "Just fatigue, my dear. Nothing to worry about."

But you sensed the weight behind his words, the unspoken pain that lingered. Determined to reach him, you pressed further, "Remus, you can talk to me. You don't have to bear it all alone."

A conflicted gaze met yours, the struggle evident in his eyes. "It's nothing, truly. Just the weight of these days catching up with me. I'll manage." Your concern deepened, but sensing his reluctance to share, you respected his boundaries for now.

The day unfolded with a cruel sense of déjà vu. Remus, despite his weariness and emotional burden, tried to inject a fresh approach into the familiar sequence of events. The battle at the Department of Mysteries, the chaotic clash of spells, the ominous echoes of laughter--each element remained unchanged. Yet, determined to break the cycle, Remus experimented with different spells and protective charms.

He cast Protego with unwavering precision, creating a shimmering shield to deflect incoming curses. "This has to make a difference," he muttered to himself, trying to convince the doubts that gnawed at the edges of his resolve. But the relentless onslaught of dark magic persisted, and the battle continued its inevitable descent into tragedy.

Summoning all his knowledge, Remus altered the incantations, hoping to catch the Death Eaters off guard. "Expelliarmus!" he shouted, attempting to disarm them before they could unleash their deadly curses. The brief reprieve was shattered as the Death Eaters retaliated with even greater ferocity.

Desperation fueled Remus as he ventured into uncharted territory, casting obscure charms and hexes. "Obscuro!" he exclaimed, attempting to blind the Death Eaters and gain an upper hand. The moments of disorientation, however, were fleeting, and the macabre symphony of battle continued, indifferent to his futile attempts.

As the battle reached its climax, Remus faced the pivotal moment where Lucius locked eyes with you. Panic surged through him, and he threw himself into the fray, determined to change the outcome. The familiar words echoed in the chamber, "You're in the way," and Remus intervened with a swift Protego, hoping against hope that this time it would be enough.

But the cold, callous sneer on Lucius Malfoy's face signaled the impending tragedy. "Avada Kadavra!" he spat, redirecting his attention to you. Remus, with a gut-wrenching realization, watched as the curse struck, your form crumpling to the ground.

"No!" he cried out, the anguish in his voice reverberating through the chamber. The loop reset, and Remus found himself back in the cold confines of 12 Grimmauld Place, his hopes shattered once again.

Dragging himself downstairs once again, Remus appeared even more weary than before. The weight of repeated failure weighed heavily on him, etching lines of exhaustion on his face. You couldn't help but notice the vulnerability in his eyes, a glimpse behind the composed facade he usually wore.

"Remus, are you alright?" you asked, genuine worry in your eyes.

He sighed, his shoulders slumping with a weariness that transcended physical fatigue. "It's just… this day. No matter what I do, I can't save you." His voice wavered, the vulnerability seeping through, but he quickly masked it with a cryptic smile.

Confusion furrowed your brow as you tried to grasp the meaning behind Remus's enigmatic words. "Remus, what are you talking about? Save me from what?" The lingering worry deepened in your eyes, a reflection of your genuine concern for the man standing before you, haunted by a reality you couldn't comprehend.

"Nothing, it's--" Remus cut himself off, silently excusing himself before walking away without another word.

"Okay..."

___________________________

Remus, his determination unbroken, decided to take a more strategic approach. The battle at the Department of Mysteries unfolded once again, and this time, he sought out specific members of the Order, warning them of the impending danger. His voice carried urgency as he attempted to alter the course of events.

"Moody, watch your left flank! Tonks, be ready for a surprise attack!" Remus's instructions were clear, and for a moment, it seemed as if the tides might turn in their favor. The Order members adjusted their positions, casting protective spells with a renewed sense of purpose. Hope flickered in Remus's eyes as he believed, if just for a moment, that the tragedy could be averted.

However, the echoes of fate remained unyielding. The Death Eaters adapted to the warnings, countering with a ferocity that matched their previous encounters. The battle unfolded with a cruel inevitability, and despite Remus's efforts to change the outcome, the same tragic events played out once more.

The desperation that lingered in Remus's heart deepened. As he witnessed the familiar scene of Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange targeting you and Sirius, a sense of helplessness settled over him. The haunting laughter, the malicious spell--they painted a grim picture that Remus had grown all too accustomed to.

In the aftermath of the battle, Remus trudged back to 12 Grimmauld Place, the weight of repeated failure pressing heavily on his shoulders. The warnings he had issued, the strategic adjustments--they proved insufficient against the unyielding force of destiny. The loop reset, and Remus found himself standing on the precipice of another day filled with relentless echoes of grief.

Descending the stairs once more, he caught a glimpse of you engaged in conversation with Snape. The same casual chatter, the same blissful ignorance--a stark contrast to the turmoil that brewed within Remus. The cryptic nature of his plight weighed on him as he struggled to find a way to convey the depth of his torment without burdening you with the unbearable truth.

You noticed the weariness etched on Remus's face and approached him, concern evident in your eyes. "Remus, are you alright?" you asked, your voice filled with genuine worry.

His gaze met yours, a mixture of gratitude and sorrow in his eyes. "Just the weight of the world, my dear. Some battles can't be won, no matter how hard we try." Remus's words, though cryptic, carried a vulnerability that hinted at the struggle within his soul. The unspoken pain lingered, a silent plea for understanding that remained trapped in the relentless cycle of time.

The cycle repeated, and Remus, fueled by frustration and desperation, decided on a different strategy. As the battle at the Department of Mysteries unfolded once more, he focused on diverting the attention of Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange. Remus, moving with a sense of purpose, threw himself into the line of fire, attempting to draw their focus away from you and Sirius.

"Lucius! Over here!" he shouted, weaving through the chaotic battlefield. His wand cast spells in rapid succession, attempting to divert the Death Eaters' attention. Bellatrix, however, proved relentless, her maniacal laughter cutting through the chaos as she relentlessly pursued her intended targets.

Despite Remus's valiant efforts, the tragic events unfolded once again. Lucius and Bellatrix, undeterred by the distraction, seized the opportunity to unleash their deadly curses. Remus, witnessing the horrifying scene, felt a surge of fury and frustration. The unchanging reality mocked his attempts to alter the course of destiny.

Back in the cold confines of 12 Grimmauld Place, Remus awoke with a sense of bitter defeat. The room seemed to close in on him as the weight of failure settled heavily on his shoulders. Frustration boiled within him, and the echoes of the repeated tragedy fueled his anger.

Descending the stairs, Remus's usual composure gave way to a simmering rage. The frustration of being trapped in a seemingly endless loop manifested in his demeanor. As he caught sight of you, engaging in casual conversation with Snape, the turbulent emotions within him threatened to spill over. You, noticing Remus's anger, turned your attention to him. "Remus, what's the matter?"

"You just don't get it, do you?" Remus's voice, usually calm and measured, carried a venomous edge. The frustration that simmered beneath the surface erupted, and he couldn't contain the surge of emotion. "All these attempts, all these changes, and it doesn't matter. It's always the same. A futile cycle, and you're oblivious to it all!"

The chatter that kept the halls of Grimmauld Place lively turned dead silent as everyone turned their focus to the fuming werewolf.

Your eyes widened in surprise, hurt and confusion, the sudden outburst catching you off guard. The unexpected outburst from Remus left the room charged with tension. As he turned away, frustration etched across his face, you took a moment to gather your thoughts. The hurt in your eyes was palpable, but you couldn't let the bitterness in Remus's words go unanswered. You quickly follow after him upstairs.

"Remus," you began, your voice steady despite the hurt, "I don't understand what you're going through, but shutting me out won't help either of us. I just want to understand."

He turned to you, his eyes filled with a mix of exhaustion and a longing he could no longer contain. "I can't tell you everything, but I need you to know something," Remus began, his voice carrying the weight of the countless days he had spent wrestling with the same torment. "I love you. It's more than just friendship, more than camaraderie. Every day I wake up and watch you die, and it tears me apart because I can't save you. But there's something else… something I've been too afraid to admit."

His words spilled out in a rambling confession, the barriers he had carefully constructed crumbling beneath the weight of his emotions. "I think you're the only one I want to spend the rest of my days with. I'm tired of facing this nightmare alone, tired of not telling you that I'm completely and hopelessly in love with you. Every day, I've been holding back, but I can't keep it in any longer. It's not like telling you is going to change anything anyway..."

You stood there, caught between confusion and a profound realization. Remus's admission, though tangled in the complexities of his emotions, resonated with a sincerity that touched your heart. The room seemed to still, the echoes of despair momentarily silenced by the raw honesty in his words.

Without fully comprehending the intricacies of his struggle, you knew that the man standing before you had bared his soul. The weight of his unspoken love, the burden he had carried in silence, echoed in the air. The conflicting emotions within you converged, and the overwhelming desire to bridge the gap between you and Remus took hold.

In a moment of clarity, you closed the distance between you and Remus, reaching up to cup his face gently. "Remus," you whispered, a mixture of tenderness and confusion in your eyes. "It changes everything. I may not understand everything you're going through, but I do know one thing." Leaning in, you pressed a soft kiss against his lips, a gesture that conveyed both reassurance and the acknowledgment of a shared connection.

The next iteration of the relentless loop unfolded with a sense of impending dread. Remus, having memorized the sequence of events, knew the tragic outcome that awaited them at the Department of Mysteries. However, a newfound determination flickered in his eyes as he clung to the hope that this time might be different.

As the battle erupted, Remus focused his efforts on distracting Lucius Malfoy, drawing the Death Eater's attention away from you. The confrontation was intense, spells colliding with a fierce energy, and in the chaos, you seized the opportunity to evade the impending danger. Remus, sacrificing himself to protect you, bore the brunt of the attack meant for you.

A searing pain coursed through him, and the world blurred as Remus felt himself being knocked to the ground. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was your figure, safe and unharmed, disappearing into the chaos of the battle.

When Remus woke, his body aching, he found himself in a cold sweat within the familiar confines of 12 Grimmauld Place. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as the haunting reality of failure settled over him once again. He turned over in resignation, expecting to find himself alone, only to be met with an unexpected sight.

There, lying beside him, was you—alive and well. The shock of seeing you, unharmed and peacefully resting, jolted through Remus. He couldn't comprehend the deviation from the expected outcome, and a mix of confusion and relief washed over him.

"You're… here," he murmured, disbelief coloring his voice. The weight of the countless days he had spent watching you die lifted, replaced by a surreal sense of gratitude that left him momentarily speechless.

You stirred awake, sensing Remus's gaze upon you. As your eyes met his, he found solace in the warmth of your presence. "Remus, are you alright?" you asked, concern etched across your face.

He chuckled, a mix of exhaustion and relief in the sound. "I should be asking you that. I thought I had failed again."

A small smile played on your lips as you reached out to touch his cheek. "You saved me Remus. And Sirius too. It was like...you knew what was going to happen."

"That's because I did."

"What?"

"I'll explain it to you later darling. For now, please just let me hold you." Remus pulled you close to him, your head tucked into his neck, legs pressed together, his arm around your waist securely.

"Hey Remus?" you whispered.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"I love you."

In that moment, surrounded by the shadows of 12 Grimmauld Place, Remus Lupin felt a flicker of hope reignite within him. The unending loop had broken, and the person he had spent countless days trying to save was by his side. The weight of the past lifted, leaving room for a future where love and resilience triumphed over the relentless march of time.

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