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peanut-in-the-goal · 9 months

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first dates

“Jamessss!” Sirius whined, rolling up and rolling down his sleeves for the fourth time. He had done his eyeliner and finally picked an outfit. James sighed, he was laying on his stomach in his four person bed, watching through the open door of the bathroom as Sirius stressed over how he looked in the mirror. He pushed his glasses higher up on his nose, and rolled out of bed.

He came over to Sirius, stood behind him in the mirror and fixed his sleeves for him. He looked over Sirius’s shoulders and met his eyes in the mirror.

Sirius sighed, “You think it’s going to go well?”

James huffed out a laugh. “Padfoot, this is Remus we’re talking about.” He grabbed a brush off the counter and started running it through Sirius’ hair. “Remus who you’ve shared a room with for the past four and a half years. One of our best friends. He knows you, he’s seen you, and quite frankly he’s been pining over you for the past 2 years. He wouldn’t be going on this date with you if he had thought it was a bad idea. And I'm sure you wouldn’t either, hm?”

Sirius hums in response. “I guess…” he starts. He shakes his head and turns to face James, and James places the brush back on the counter. “But what if it doesn’t go well?”

“Then you go back to just being friends. If it's awkward and uncomfortable then you just go back to how you were before. I highly doubt one uncomfortable night will make things really change between the two of you. If you try it and it doesn't work then that’s okay.”

Sirius nods along, a small smile playing at his lips. He turns back towards the mirror and nods, “Okay,” he says, “okay. Thank you, Jaime.”

James smiles at him in the mirror, “it’ll go well Pads,” he reassures him. Sirius smiles back, going to fiddle with his hair. Half an hour later, and a lot of light hearted banter, his hair is up and he’s ready to go. James pats him on the back and walks him to the girls stairs. The wolf whistles at Sirius as he leaves back to his door, laughing when Sirius goes red and yells back in mock offense.

They had charmed the stairs a long time ago, it had taken an insane amount of magic and research, but they had finally made it so boys can go to the girls dorms and girls could go to the boys as long as they didn’t have i’ll intentions.

Sirius took a deep breath. In and out, in and out. He starts walking up the stairs. He’s okay, he has this, it’s just Moony. His Moony. That thought still brings butterflies to his stomach, a tug of protectiveness sparking in him and painting a faint blush over his face. He was dressed in a black button up, the top three buttons left open, sleeves rolled up and bunched around his elbows, shirt tucked into his black slacks. He was dressed nice, but a casual sort of nice. His hair was tied up in a loose bun, half up half down, held with his wand sticking through the middle. Holding a small arrangement of flowers in one hand, he raised his fist and knocked on the door with the other.

—

Remus was looking at the outfits he brought that were laid over Lily’s bed. His left arm crossed over his chest and his left rubbing over his mouth.

“I’m not sure Lils,” he mumbled. So far they had decided on a pair of brown corduroy pants. He had a few sweaters, a cardigan, two sweater vests and a short sleeved collared shirt to pick from. Lily had decided yes to the collared shirt, but they were debating what to put over it. He had tried a couple things already, vetoing the cardigan and two of the sweaters already.

“Try this,” Lily said, picking up a light green sweater and throwing it at him. Remus souttered when it hit him in the face. He glared at her as he put it over his button up and Lily hid her grin behind her hand. He turned to look in the full sized mirror that the girls had in their dorm before shaking his head no.

Lily nodded, “Yeah I agree, this one bunches weird,” she said, trying to adjust the way it sits on his shoulders. He took it off and added it into the vetoed pile.

Next she picked up an oversized deep blue sweater vest with an argyle design on the front. Remus tried it on and looked in the mirror. He looked at Lily and smiled, “This is the one,” he said softly. Lily nodded in agreement, a smile gracing her lips.

Not much was down with his hair, it was short and fluffy, his amber eyes staring back at himself in the mirror. He went for a pair of socks with hippogriffs on it and his ratty old grey converse shoes from home.

Running his hands through his hair one more time, he started getting his things together. A sack of knuts, sickles, and a few galleons, along with his muggle camera that his mother had given him in first year. Every time he went home he would save his photos to his computer, another courtesy of having a muggle mum, before coming back to take new photos.

—

At exactly 3 o’clock he heard a knock on the door. Today was a Hogsmeade day, and Siriud had finally asked Remus out.

“Okay.” Remus breathed. “Okay! This will be great, it’ll be fine, it’s going to be fine,” he said, looking at himself in the mirror, bending over to see himself close up. He was messing with his hair a bit more before he heard Lily laugh at him. Not unkindly so much as amused.

“I’ve never seen you this nervous over a date,” she said, smiling. Remus groaned, standing up fully and looking at her.

“Shut uppp,” he complained. She giggled.

“It’s kind of cute.”

“Shut it,” groaned, head tipping into his hands. He heard another, more timid knock at the door. “Oh shit,” he said, going to open it.

Sirius stood on the other side with a soft smile on his face. “Hi Re,” he said. Then he raised his hand, holding a bundle of daisies and blue salvias, no doubt picked from the herbology greenhouse. Remus beamed back at him.

“Thanks Pads,” he said. They stared at each other for a moment before Lily cleared her throat awkwardly. They both startled, “Ready to go?” Remus asked. Sirius nodded and they headed down the stairs together, Remus mouthing the words thank you to Lily over his shoulder. He magicked his flowers upstairs and to their dorm, having them rest on his bedside table.

This is uncharted territory for the both of them, not uncomfortable, just new. To be honest, Sirius can’t imagine a world where he would be uncomfortable around Remus.

The two made their way down the moving stairs and out of the castle, speaking and joking to each other. McGonagall gave Remus a knowing look when the two handed in their permission slips, Sirius’ having forged his parents’ signatures since third year. If McGonagall knew, she never said anything.

“Have fun boys,” she said, sparing them less than a glance before she turned to the next people in line. Sirius stared wide eyed at her before looking at Remus, who looked like he was trying to stifle his laughter.

“Does she know? Do you think she knows?” Sirius buried his face in his hands as they started walking to Hogsmeade. “Oh my god she totally knows.”

Remus laughed, letting his hand fall to the small of Sirius’ back, guiding him through the crowd. Sirius’ face burned red, but his lips twitched into a smile and he couldn’t help laughing too.

“She definitely knows,” Remus agreed.

“Ugh,” Sirius whined, “Now she’s gonna look at us weird in class Moony!”

Remus’ head tipped back when he laughed this time, and Sirius couldn’t help but think that he was beautiful. He walked a little closer to Remus, and Remus’ hand fell to Sirius’ hip, rubbing circles into it a few times before dropping it. Halfway through their fifth year, Remus was taller than all the other marauders. He was nearly 6 feet tall, while Sirius was still stuck at 5’7. Perfect height for Remus to rest his arm on his shoulder, which he did.

“She’s not gonna look at us weird Padfoot, she won't care,” he said.

“But Mooonyyyy,” Sirius whined again, “She’s gonna do the thing.”

Sirius pouted, actually pouted at him. Remus could not keep the grin off his face.

“She’s not going to be mean Padfoot.”

“I know that, of course I know that. But she’s going to do the thing with her eyes. Like she’s making fun of us,” Sirius stepped away from Remus a little, waiting for his hand to drop off his shoulder before grabbing it with his own. He didn’t look at him as their fingers interlaced, but he couldn’t hide the way he was beaming.

Remus huffed a laugh, “Okay fine, I guess I know what you’re talking about,” he said. “But to be frank with you Pads, I don’t really mind if she does.”

“Yeah?” Sirius asked, looking at him.

“Yeah,” Remus replied. Sirius’ smile turns soft, close mouthed and his lips curling up at the ends.

“Okay,” he said quietly, and readjusted his grip on Remus’ hand to hold on tighter.

They continued their walk to Hogsmeade, stepping through the snow and realizing just how bad of an idea this was to wear converse. Remus’ socks were wet and his shoes were an entirely different color from when he left Hogwarts.

I’m lucky I'm a wizard, he thought as casted a drying spell. They finally made it to Hogsmeade, staring down at all the shops lined up next to each other.

“Where do you wan-“ Remus cut himself off with a laugh, Sirius was already dragging him off by their still entwined hands. He brings them to Honeydukes, pushing open the door and navigating through the busy store.

“Where’re you taking me, sweetheart?” Remus asks, the pet name slipping out easily. Sirius can’t hide the blush that spreads over his face and down his neck, and although Remus lets out a slight laugh, he doesn’t mention it.

“I’m buying you chocolate Moony.” Sirius says, then for extra emphasis, “Duh.”

“Woah, woah, wait- what?”

“Very good alliteration Moony, but that doesn’t quite make sense. Wanna try again for something more coherent?” Sirius grins at him. Remus stares at him in shock.

“You know what alliteration is?” He asks dumbly.

“Oi! I take muggle studies!”

“I’m surprised you listen to be entirely honest.”

“Hey!” Sirius squawks. A few heads turn, Sirius sticks his tongue out at the closest person.

“You’re like a little kid,” Remus laughs. “A little kid in a candy shop.”

“Yep!” Sirius says, popping the p. They end up in front of a trolley with all sorts of chocolate treats. “Now pick something Moonykins.”

“I’m really okay Sirius, you don't need to buy me anything.” Remus tries, but Sirius just talks over him.

“Nope, nuh uh, i'm getting you something and you love love love chocolate so i'm getting you chocolate.” Remus is looking at him with a stuck expression, something Sirius can't quite read so he adds on, “Please Rem. If it makes you feel better the money came from my parents, and I love spending it on things they don’t approve of.”

Part of Remus feels that in any other circumstance he should be offended by that, his dates parents not approving of him even though they’ve never met, but hearing that Walburga and Orion Black don’t approve might be one of the best compliments ever.

Renus fakes a groan, acting like it is more effort than it is to grab his favorite chocolate bar off of the trolley, and Sirius grins. And if he grabs two more when Remus isn’t looking, then that's none of his business. On his way to the register he snags a cauldron cake for himself as well.

As Sirius pays, Remus looks around the crowded store. Through the store window he can see James and Peter walking with Lily. Dorcas and Marlene had their own date, leaving Lily to her own devices. She agreed to hang out with the other two marauders as long as James didn’t hit on her. Over the past 4 years she had become quite close to the boys, and she’s grown to not totally hate James’ presence.

“Okay!” Sirius cheered, he held a small paper bag with the Honeydukes logo on the front. “Where now?”

Remus hummed. Hand in hand they left the store, walking down and looking at the shops. He pulled Sirius toward the three broomsticks. “It’s cold, I want hot cocoa,” he said.

Sirius beamed at him, “Of course you do, you’re Moony. Haven’t gotten your chocolate fix today, have you?” He teased. Remus huffed, depositing Sirius at a small table for two in a quiet corner by the window. With a quick, “I’ll be right back,” Remus had gone to order their drinks at the counter. He came back a few minutes later, saying that they’ll bring their drinks to them.

So far the date was going pretty well if Remus said so himself. They were both having fun, talking and laughing like always. No uncomfortable or awkward lulls in conversation. It felt right, the two of them together like this. Sure they were best friends first, but maybe they could be more than that.

Sirius loves Remus’ eyes. The way they shine in the sun, the small specks of gold in his light brown. He doesn’t think he’s ever really gotten to look at Remus like this, open and warm and he was allowed to look without giving his silly little crush away.

Sirius has a necklace on. A small silver chain that loops gracefully around his neck and down to his chest. Sitting at the bottom is a silver moon. His nails are painted back and he keeps fiddling with it, rolling the pendant between his fingers and running them through the chain. And Remus can’t stop looking at it. Because that necklace, that moon, it’s him, he’s Moony. Sirius’ Moony if he’ll have him, and he can’t fight the smile that breaks out over his face. Sirius is smiling back at him, his foot lightly tapping Remus’ underneath the table. Sirius laughs, and it feels like they haven’t stopped laughing and smiling and joking since they left Hogwarts.

This wasn’t hard. Not awkward or uncomfortable or grasping for something to say to fill in the inevitable silence that usually comes with a first date. This is easy and light and to Sirius it feels like the home he’s always wished for. His safety and warmth coming from somebody, not somewhere like he always thought it would. He can’t find it in himself to mind much though, not when he sees the way Remus’ eyes crinkle in the corners when he smiles, or the way his freckles dance across his face, and Merlin even his scars look beautiful, Sirius thinks.

He can imagine himself in a million different worlds with Remus, but he can’t imagine a single one where he isn’t the most beautiful man ever.

Sirius found his person in his best friend. His world, his home, and place to give all his love. And he feels like he’s bursting at the seams with this need to share all his adoration for Remus but he isn’t quite sure how to put it all into words. How do you tell someone that you grew up with that you love them from their hair to their toes, from the freckle that laid right but their right eyebrow all the down to the scar that wrapped around their ankle. How do you tell someone that’s held you after nightmares and helped you burn letters from your mother and always gave you one of their sweaters on the way back to Hogwarts after a trip home. How do you tell someone like that you love them and appreciate them and would cross the ocean for them, build mountains, get the stars for them. How do you convey so many thoughts and feelings of love and thankfulness into words that mean something? Something that sounds worthy to be heard and like you mean. A simple thank you isn’t enough, a simple i love you, a hug, those aren’t enough. Not when Remus deserves the entire world, not when his smile is so contagious that Sirius can’t help but be in a good mood.

This may only be their first date, but Sirius has known Remus, really gotten to know him, over the past 4 and a half years. And Sirius knows that he loves him and never ever wants to lose him.

He figures that one day, with time, he’ll figure out how to tell him. How to show him that he tells Remus he means it. That Sirius would personally lasso down the sun and keep it below the horizon if it meant Remus could sleep longer if he asked him to. Sirius would do anything if Remus asked him to, willing to go the lengths of the world if it meant Remus’ smile never left his face.

But Sirius can’t convey that in so many words, he can’t convey that in any words really, so instead he steals one of Remus’ legs and traps it between his own under the table. He looks at Remus and hopes he understands that he’s having one of the best days of his life. Remus looks at him the same way, and Sirius’ gets the feeling that he understands.

It’s not long before Rosmerta, and young witch in her early twenties came over to the two, bring their hot chocolate. It wasn’t uncommon for Sirius to flirt with her while she was behind the counter, laughing and joking and being charismatic. She always laughed him off, and Sirius never actually planned for it to go anywhere,not sure he wanted it to, but they had become a sort of easy friends. He smiled at her, toothy and cricked, and bright. He winked at her as she put their drinks down.

“Thanks Merta!’ He cheered, reaching for his cup.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said with a wave of her hand. She smiled despite herself. She stopped and really looked at the two boys in front of her, the linked feet under the table, the lack of the other two boys who are usually with them, the fact that they were dressed nicer than usual. He smile widened a little bit more, fully taking in the two. Remus ducked his head and blushed.

“Your guys’ drinks are on the house tonight,” she said. Sirius grinned at her and Rosmerta winked at him as she walked away from their table.

“Oh merlinnn,” Remus groaned. Sirius laughed at him.

“Oh come on, Moonyyy. We just got free drinks.” Sirius joked.

“Yeah, she probably gave us free drinks because you didn’t hit on her today.”

“Hey!” Sirius pretended to pout on him. “I’ll have you know that anyone who gets hit on me is extremely lucky!”

Remus hummed in agreement. He raised his mug to his lips. “Hmm. Does thatmean I’m going to get lucky today then?” He raised his eyebrow at sirius, cocky, and then choked on his drink laughing at Sirius wide eyed stare. He truly looked like a deer in headlights. Maybe he should have been the stag and not James.

“Wh-wha-what?” Sirius spluttered, before composing himself. “If you’d like that then of course my favorite, perfect Moonykins.”

Remus laughed again, shaking his head as his eyes closed from laughter. It was a good day. Reaching into the Honeydukes bag on the table next to him, Sirius pulled out a keychain with a pawprint hanging from it. He slid it across the table, not saying anything but looking at Remus hopefully.

Remus loved it. It was gold with smaller black details. He raised his eyebrow at Sirius for further explanation, but picked it up and examining it in his hands. “What’s this?” He prompted softly.

Sirius huffed, twisting his hands together in his lap and squeezing Remus’ leg from where it was trapped still between his own.

“I saw it hanging by the cashier. I thought it was nice, and er, that you may like it? Anyways I bought it for you and if you don’t like it then it’s fine! I can alwa-,” Sirius rambled.

“I love it Pads,” Remus cut him off. “Thank you.” Sirius stuck his tongue at him.

“You’re welcome Moooooonyyyy,” he singsonged.

A little more banter and another few mugs of hot cocoa later, and it was started to get dark out. Kids were starting their walk back to Hogwarts, and the snow was dying down.

“Ready to go Pads?” Remus asked. Sirius nodded, finishing off his mug and picking up the Honeydukes bag. As they walked back to Hogwarts, hand in hand, Sirius had never been this type of happy. One that didn’t feel like was going to end when the night was over, that had his insides feeling warm and fuzzy. He loved this, he loved today, and he couldn’t wait to love more days like this in the future. He looked up at Remus.

“I had fun,” he said instead. Remus smiled down at him,

“Me too?”

“Enough fun to go out with me again?” Sirius asked. Remus nodded.

“Definitely.”

There weren’t a lot of people like there were when they went there. Instead of bustling friend groups and loud laughter ringing up and down the trail from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts, there was quiet. Their foostepsmaking sound as they sunk into the snow, a group of three girls walking a little ways in front of them, probably a few further behind them as well as everyone trickled out at their own pace.

“In fact,” Remus started. “I had enough fun to ask if you wanted to be my boyfriend”. Sirius absolutely beamed at him.

Remus leaned down a little, Sirius standing up as high as he could. They stopped walking, pulling off to the side.

“Of course, Moons.”

And Remus smiled against Sirius’ lips as he kissed him. Short and sweet, but it left Sirius’ heading spinning all the same, smile gracinghis face as he hugged Remus. Sirius practically skipped all the the way back, an extra hop added to his step, fingers interlaced with Remus’.

Neither could keep the smiles off of their faces. Coming back to the school McGonagall could see the way they both glowed with happiness. And despite her usual stern face, her heart soared in happiness because both Remus and Sirius deserved so much more than what the world had given them, and maybe, just maybe together they could give each other the world.

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sunnami · 3 months

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❝i am half-agony, half-hope. . . i have loved none but you.❞

summary: how the marauders loved you in their time. featuring harry potter the time-traveller and sixth-wheel.

pairing/s: poly!marauders x reader. (james potter x reader, lily evans x reader, remus lupin x reader, and sirius black x reader.)

tags: reader is referred to as she/her and a mother throughout the whole fic[!], reader is a violent gremlin who craves blood but the marauders love you for that, implied child abuse[!], mentions of blood and violence[!], disgustingly sappy poetic fluff, no angst, happy ending, not proofread we die like finnick odair, edited: very minor detail.

note: there is little plot, it’s just the marauders and their adoration for you. thank you all so much for your kind responses to my first marauders fic :(( ilysm! i hope you enjoy this one as well! because there are parts when i was writing that i ended up kicking my feet in the air and smiling to myself.

“MY NAME IS HARRY POTTER. I come from twenty-years in the future, you’re my mum — one of my ‘em, actually. It’s complicated. And you’re married to James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black.”

You blink.

“Get the fuck out of my room!”

Harry James Potter has dodged many things in his life. Killing curses, jinxes, girls, Draco Malfoy, and Dudley’s sloppy punches, but he’s never had to dodge his sixteen-year-old mother’s fuzzy slipper before. (Godric, that sounds weird, even in his head.) He doesn’t know precisely how he arrived here. In the Slytherin common room, to be exact, in your dorm. Harry remembers duelling with Death Eaters, Hermione calling his name, and a flash of light hitting him square in the chest, then he remembers waking up in the cold tiles of the snake dungeon. He nearly throws himself off the window when he meets your eyes, bleary from interrupted sleep — it’s not often he gets to meet [read: one of] his dead parents, after all, three had been brutally murdered by Voldemort, and one killed by his own loony cousin. He misses Sirius, though. A lot. And right about now, he could do with some of Hermione’s nagging and brilliant plan-making.

At present — or past, Harry guesses — he watches you scramble out from your duvet, hand clumsily reaching for your wand as you snarl at him. He wonders if his mother knows that he’s encountered other creatures far more threatening than her. Oh shit, he realizes with all the forces of an angry Hermione Granger, isn’t this the last thing he’s supposed to do? But, well, Harry has given, and given, so much of himself all for the greater good — just this once, he’d like to see his parents alive and well. Even if they were currently trying to blast him into the walls.

“If you’d just let me explain, mum—!” Harry pleads, nearly dropping his glasses after dodging one of your stinging hexes. Godric, you’re crazy. “Please!”

“Stop calling me that!” You screech, eyes set ablaze. Harry finds that you’re quite dynamic with your attacks. A hairbrush, followed by a stinging jinx, then a thick History of Magic textbook — which rudely hits him in the face, but he doesn’t dare complain because you’re his mother, and he’s respectful like that — and after you’ve exhausted your breath, running him into a corner, and your nostrils flare with the stubbornness of a lion, you point the tip of your wand at him. “If this is another one of the Prewett’s shitty pranks, I want you to leave! You are in the girls’ dormitory beyond midnight, and so help me, if you aren’t walking out that door in the next five seconds, I will kill you and string you up by your bottoms for everyone in school to see! Maybe all your stupid rumours of me being a Death-Eater might come true after all!”

“You’re a Death-Eater?” Harry asks dumbly.

You growl furiously, and Harry figures that was not the right thing to say. “I wonder what McGonagall would say if I delivered your head to her on a silver platter.”

“Professor,” Harry corrects with a toothy grin. “Professor McGonagall.”

You slam his head against the wall.

Definitely the wrong thing to say.

Harry groans, little Dobby heads floating around his vision. Why was this so much harder than actually facing Voldemort? Quick, he needed to think of something, otherwise he’d end up eviscerated to ashes on your cold, stone floors. Harry is pretty sure you’d use his remains as decoration to send off a message to your enemies.

“You hate your father,” Harry slurs through the pain, remembering Remus’s stories of how you were the gentlest magical being he’s ever had the privilege to love — now that Harry thinks about it, Remus was being extremely biased, nothing about you is gentle at all. “He’s forcing you to marry someone old enough to be your grandfather. You love to read Muggle literature but had to stop when your father burnt your whole collection of books. Your favorite novel is Persuasion by Jane Austen. It’s the one book you carry with you everywhere, you could never get tired of it.”

Your grip on his shoulders falters, but the fury in your eyes crackles. “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s not meant to be funny, mum,” Harry croaks, voice cracking pathetically — strange how this is the most he’s ever uttered the word, mum; it’s a peculiar string of letters, foreign on his tongue. “You have tremors in your left leg from when your father cast the Cruciatus curse on you. One of your dearest friends is a Hogwarts house-elf named Pipley. You cheated on your Transfiguration essay once, and—”

“That’s enough!” You bark, eyes narrowed in dangerous slits. “I don’t know where you heard those from, you creepy, little stalker, but if you want to keep breathing, then I suggest you shut up.”

Harry scoffs — you don’t understand. Everything he’s learned about you is from Sirius and Remus. They talk about you with whispered devotion, your name like a prayer on their lips, their eyes glazed with wistfulness as though they could see you reaching out for them — but you were dead in Harry’s time. Yet, you might as well have been alive with their tales of you.

(“She’s a different kind of beautiful,” Sirius had said, a year after breaking out from Azkaban, sitting by the fire in Grimmauld Place, taking a swig of decade-old firewhiskey, “The kind of beautiful you don’t want to take your eyes off from because you’re afraid she’ll disappear from your eyes. But you won’t forget her, oh no, you’ll memorize the freckles and moles on her skin, the scars from her years, the light in her eyes, and the way she holds her head up high. You should have seen her, James, she. . . she was — is glorious.”)

“I told you,” says Harry firmly — although he loves his mother very much, she’s beginning to wear him out, “My name is Harry James Potter, I come from twenty-years in the future. You are one of my parents.” A lightbulb flashes in his head. He squirms in your hold, reaching for his robe pocket until he finds the thing he’s looking for. Harry dangles the ring in front of you, grinning in success when your eyes flash in recognition. “It’s—”

“A family heirloom,” You say breathlessly. The alexandrite winks under the light, a familiar gold band with the Latin inscription of your House words. “Where did you steal this from?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “You left it for me in my Gringotts vault. It’s my heirloom now. You have to believe me, there’s no way you can deny this.”

You take a step backwards, nibbling on your lower lip, as you stagger to your bed — Harry nearly stumbling to catch you in case you fell; adjusting to the living proof of time travel was quite difficult, he, of all people, should know. He exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “Magic, amirite?”

You throw a pillow at him, which he catches gracefully thanks to his Seeker reflexes, as you plop down in the comforts of your quilts. “Sleep. The other girls won’t be back until the end of the holiday. We can deal with whatever this is in the morning. It’s way too early for me to process the idea of a future Potter spawn following me around.”

Harry smiles. “Yes, mum.”

ONE THING THAT his fathers failed to tell him about you, and that Harry had to learn himself, was that you took ages to get ready. You sat on the chair in front of your vanity mirror, the birch wood legs whittled with snakes, and it was as though you had a Sticking Charm on the cushion. Harry didn’t know there could be so many creams, oils, and serums, and powders one put on their face. He blanches when you turn to offer him a cream for his under eyes. (“Suit yourself.” You shrug, turning to brush your cheek with dusts of pink. “Just saying, those dark circles aren’t doing you any favors.”)

“What am I like in the future?” You ask, a kind lilt to your voice, much like a warm hug, much like home.

Harry stiffens, shoving his hands in pockets of the robes that were twice his size — you had given him the garments of Lucius Malfoy to change in, which you apparently had stolen from his room. It’s come full circle, really, the Sorting Hat had once told him he would be great in Slytherin, and now here he was, looking fabulous in green — because he was about to hurl at the feel of the velvet on his skin, knowing slimy Lucius Malfoy had worn it. (“No son—” You pause with a tight purse in your lips, as if you still can’t accept the fact. Harry doesn’t blame you. “—no son of mine will be parading around in red of all colors, future or not.” And Harry finds that he really doesn’t care, so long as you call him your son.)

“Loved,” replies Harry gruffly, avoiding your eyes in the reflection of your mirror — they were piercing. One look and Harry wanted to spill all of his deepest, darkest secrets. He remembers the photographs in his album, the one he’s stared at so many times as a child. It’s a moving photograph of the five of you, fresh out of Hogwarts, each wearing a smile that stretched from ear-to-ear. Before Sirius and Remus, it was the only semblance of proof that Harry had — that you had once been alive. Remus is holding you by the waist in the picture, twirling you around as autumn leaves fell. You were — are — loved, and Harry thinks there’s no better description than that.

(“I bloody hated her cat,” says Remus with a roguish quirk to his lips, regalling Harry with more talks of his parents. “Sirius, too. We just never got along with the little creature. But your mother loved it, and we would have done anything to make her happy. She deserved it, you see. She deserved more than what I had to offer her, but still she chose me anyway. And I am a selfish man, Harry, I crave glimpses of her and the whispers of her voice. She has made me a mad man whose only reprieve is her touch.”)

You hum knowingly. “Stupid question, I guess. Since you aren’t allowed to reveal anything more about the future.” You sigh, gracefully threading your arms in the sleeves of your shirt, a green tie in the center of your collar. “Except, of course, when you gave me a heart attack in the middle of the night by telling me the last thing I want to become — no offense, I just don’t see how a relationship with those rowdy bunch would work. They get on my nerves far too much for me to ever feel anything other than disgust.”

Harry doesn’t need a mirror to see that his expression has contorted in confusion; brows knitted and upper lip crinkled. By their memories of you, you all were madly in love in Hogwarts. Damn. This just made his trip to the past a lot harder. No maze seems to be ever just a maze.

Luckily, you don’t notice him brewing a grand master plan to bring his parents together. Instead, you say, “But you don’t seem to be phased by any of this. If I had been thrown twenty years into the past, I would have puked my guts out twice at some point.”

“Thanks for the image,” says Harry with a scowl. Truthfully, it had either been a present with a noseless Dark Lord to face, trauma to unpack but really never have the chance to, or a past where all of his parents were alive, and a chance to talk with them for however long he has. He knows where he’ll be staying, thank you very much.

“Anytime,” You reply with an impish smile.

Your heels pad across the floor as you walk over to him, mouth clicking as you pat the top of his head, full of wild, untameable Potter hair. “You need a trim soon,” You mutter, frowning, as you brush the thick strands away from his eyes, then you gasp — and Harry knows exactly what’s coming next. “Oh, you’ve got Evans’s eyes. That’s freaky.”

“I know.” Harry grins.

“Here’s the plan,” You say as you lead him out of your room, making sure no one saw him walking out of your door and getting the wrong impression — because that would be so wrong on many levels, but also, explaining to someone else that the person beside you was a time-traveller was just complicated in general. The Slytherin dungeon is unfamiliarly familiar, eerily quiet, as the two of you made your way out. “Just say you’re Potter’s distant relative, twice or thrice removed, and you’ve always been here. If you lie to their faces enough, they’ll believe it eventually.”

“Will that work?” Harry doesn’t really mind — he needs a connection to James, his father, if he’s going to work out a connection between you and the others, because at the moment, it doesn’t seem like you’re too fond of them. There’s a tick on your jaw every time you mumble the word, Potter. Nevertheless, Harry decides he’s going to spend the duration of the holiday break trying to set you up with them — on the list of most insane things he’s ever done, living out the Parent Trap was high up the tally.

You shrug. “They’ve fallen for less.”

(“She’s got this adorable habit when she lies,” Sirius tells Harry, whipping up a stack of pancakes for their breakfast — Remus browsing through the morning paper. It’s the closest he’s ever been to a normal family. “It’s not obvious to her, of course, but I know her more than I know my own name. So we play along with it.” For a moment, he stops drizzling the maple syrup on the well-cooked batter, gazing at Remus fondly. “D’you remember that, Moony? She led us straight to one of her pranks, and we ended up covered in slug slime. She was so obvious — with her adorable fucking giggles. I need help with Charms, she said, and we knew right away it was a set-up. But it didn’t matter. I’d happily let her lead me to my ruin.”)

The Great Hall is the same as Harry remembers. Now that most have returned home for the holidays, those who stay back mingle with students from other Houses, sharing meals under the bewitched ceiling, their low murmurs and hushed Christmas greetings bouncing off the walls. Harry scours the four tables to find a hint of blazing red hair, or the scent of impending trouble. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to search very far. As fate would have it, James Potter finds you — and where he is, Sirius Black is sure to follow.

You’re barely seated when James comes bounding over to your table — more precisely, he struts, and Harry is horrified to ever be proven wrong by Snape, of all people. He ignores the roll of your eyes as he drags a leg over the bench, sitting to face you as Sirius occupies the space to your left before Harry can even sit down. He can’t even fathom how weird it is to see his parents as rambunctious teenagers. Lovesick, rambunctious teenagers.

“Morning, dove.” James preens under your glare, stealing a grape from your bowl with a boyish smirk. His hair looks as though he’s ran his hand through it many times. “You look ravishing today.”

“As always,” Sirius pipes in. “But that eyeshadow really isn’t complementing your skin tone, my darling.”

You smile at him, right before your lips twist into a cutthroat sneer. “Piss off, Black.”

James stifles a laugh as he shovels a mass of potatoes on your plate, then pumpkin pasties, and slides a steaming cup of Dragon Well tea in front of you.

“What the hell are you doing, Potter?” You reach over to smack his arm when he sprinkles apple slices and bacon on your breakfast.

“What does it look like?” James smiles lopsidedly. “You need to eat more, honey.”

(In the future, Sirius will tell Harry, “It started off as a joke, a way to get on her nerves — but then, it just became this thing about taking care of her, making sure she got enough sleep before her tests, wondering if she had breakfast or dinner, staying with her in the library, walking her to the Slytherin common room, and sending her stupid notes just to make her laugh. You don’t get it, Harry. I’d give my every breath to ensure her life. We all would.” Harry doesn’t see Sirius any more during that evening, but he hears a bottle crashing against a wall, cracking into a million pieces, and the masked sound of Sirius sobbing, and Harry decides to leave him alone for the night.)

Then, you tear your eyes away from James — he huffs, pushing your plate to you, mildly annoyed that you’ve deprived him of your eyes; they were his favorite part of you, you see, so expressive and full of life; James thinks you put the stars to shame — and thankfully, you remember that Harry still exists. You lightly smack Sirius’s leg until he gives Harry some room to sit. “Potter, meet other Potter. It’s the holidays, shouldn’t it be the perfect time to let go of House prejudices and spend time with family?”

James looks at Harry up and down. “You must be from dad’s side of the family with all that hair.”

Harry lets out a breath of relief. That was easy — way too easy. When he takes the vacant space in between you and Sirius, you dump all the available food on his plate, just as James had done for you.

“Eat,” You say with a tone of finality. “You look like the wind could snap you in half.”

“Yes, m—” Harry stops himself before he could finish his sentence, avoiding Sirius’s curious gaze.

“Wow.” Sirius pokes Harry in the shoulder and in the cheek. “You really look like a mini-James, you’ve even got his terrible eyesight.”

“Oi!”

Your fork clatters against the silverware as you turn to Sirius with a shrill. “Not that I do enjoy your company — because, trust me, I do not want you here at all and would very much prefer if you got out of my sight — but why are you here? The Gryffindor table is over there. Unless your housemates finally got sick of you, Potter, which I can definitely see happening.”

James chuckles, tossing another grape in his mouth without taking his eyes off you. “It’s as you said, isn’t it? It’s the time for putting aside House prejudices. And I think it’s a lovely day to enjoy a meal with my favorite snake.”

“Drop dead,” You retort, digging into your chicken with a little more force than necessary.

“Oh, dove.” James shakes his head, a teasing grin pulling at his lips. “It’s cute that you think death will keep me from you.”

(Harry’s been told before, probably by Sirius, that this line had been wedged into his wedding vows for you. “A dramatic one, James was,” Sirius chuckles to himself one morning, Harry and Hermione listening intently, “He always said he’d rather die than ever hurt her. There was this time in seventh year, they had a fight — it was ugly — and she had ignored him for a week. James cried in Remus’s arms begging him to cut his heart out, saying that he didn’t deserve to keep on breathing, not after making you cry.”)

“That is so creepy,” You say in disgust, scrunching your nose. Sirius chortles at your side. “I still wonder why Evans agreed to go out with you.”

“It’s all part of the charm, dove.” James winks. “It’s all part of the charm.”

Harry wants to barf, actually.

After breakfast, James then decides to introduce Harry to Lily, Remus, and Peter. (He’s gonna need the patience of a saint to not Avada Kedavra that rat on the spot.) Harry had spent the whole morning watching Sirius peel oranges and give them to you with a smitten look in his eyes — naturally, you gave whatever Sirius offered you to Harry, and each time Padfoot would visibly wilt. If he were in his Animagus form, Harry thinks he would be whining by now, tongue out and all. James and Sirius follow after you like lost puppies when you extricate yourself from the table.

“Where are you going?” James calls, hot on your heels as you leave the Great Hall.

“Away from you, Potter!”

And James actually sighs when you turn the corner and disappear from their peripheral vision. Seconds later, he turns to Harry with a blinding smile, “She’s definitely charmed.”

Harry chortles.

“Well, come on then!” James guffaws as he wraps an arm around Harry’s neck — this is so, so strange. They begin walking in the opposite direction of where you went. “I still can’t believe we’ve got another Potter here and in Slytherin. I think I would have remembered Minnie calling your name during the Sorting Ceremony. What year are you in?”

He’s supposed to start his sixth-year in a few weeks. “Fifth.” Technically.

“We should ask Lily,” says Sirius, hands in his pockets and ebony ringlets tickling his nape. “She’s got the best memory out of all of us.”

It’s odd, Harry thinks, meeting the person who’s got his eyes — or the other way around, as people have told him. It’s like someone carved out the emeralds of Lily Evans’s eyes and bestowed it upon Harry for safekeeping. She sits beside Remus Lupin, head resting on his shoulder, hands clasped together, as they enjoy the shade. Nex to them, oblivious to their intimate conversation, is Peter Pettigrew — with his rosy, cherub cheeks and innocent blue eyes; not at all the image of a pathological, cowardly liar. Their heads snap in attention as James boisterously cries for their name.

“Marauders — and Lily-pad — meet ickle Potter.” James lightheartedly whacks Harry on the back, to which Harry feels his lungs spill out from his mouth, he’s sure there’s an imprint of his father’s hand on his back now.

“There’s two Potters in Hogwarts?” Sea-green eyes look at him in scrutiny as Lily knits her brows. “How even is the castle still standing?”

James cackles like it’s the best joke he’s ever heard in his entire life, slapping his knee for dramatic effect. Oh, well, at least they’re buying Harry’s half-baked lie. At this point, it’s not even baked, it’s just wet, soggy, and poorly done. “Good one, Lily-pad!”

Sirius ruffles Remus’s shaggy blonde hair, canines bared in a wide grin. “This one here’s Moony, uptight prefect in the morning and absolute beast in the evening.”

Harry blanches. Surely he was talking about his furry problem, right? Right?

Remus doesn’t even flinch, just peels off Sirius’s hand from him and extends his hand out to Harry. “Please do not mind him. Remus Lupin, nice to meet you. Although, I can’t believe this is the first time we’ve met. We would have definitely remembered if we had another Potter in our midst.”

“It’s true, we Potters are just hard to forget,” says James, smiling cheekily.

Harry pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Mum didn’t take the Potter name. I’m part Dursley. Muggle.”

Lily hums, toying at the ends of her bright hair. “Dursley, huh? What a familiar name.”

“It’s a common one,” Harry assures her — not at all the names of the people who would take him in after they died. And make his life miserable.

“I suppose you’re right,” says Lily, unconvinced.

“And this is Peter.” James introduces the boy eagerly, pride in his voice — as though this isn’t the person who literally allies himself with Voldemort. As if Peter won’t betray his friends all because of fear.

“N–Nice to meet you,” Peter stammers with a nervous fidget, “Any family of James is a friend of ours.”

Harry’s eye twitches.

IT IS ALMOST COMICAL — the way their eyes land on your figure, bursting through the courtyard from the corridors, winter cloak swishing with every step, tendrils of hair swaying in the crisp wind, and head held up high, thick books under your arms. You pause in front of the Marauders, face blank, then you turn to Peter, greeting him with a: “Hello, only Gryffindor I can tolerate.”

Peter’s cheeks burn a saccharine hue of pink. Oh, no, no, no — absolutely not — Harry will not stand for a little crush Peter Pettigrew has on his mother. He needs James to act now. “Hi,” Peter replies shyly.

Lily quirks her lips. “Hello, princess, see your score for the Astronomy test yet?”

You scowl. “Zip it, Evans.”

The sound of Lily’s laughter fills the atmosphere — it’s the sort of melody that makes flowers bloom in deserts. “Had a bit of difficulty with the star charts?”

Sirius pinches your cheek — Harry thinks you’re going to murder him on the spot. “Difficulty? I think this one just slept through the whole thing.”

James snickers. “Must have been one hell of a nap, princess. You were drooling on my jumper.”

“I most certainly do not drool!” You gasp, appalled, eyes wide as you step away from Sirius.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “What? Is drooling too barbaric for the pretty, little pure-blooded princess now? Newsflash, pet, you’re just as human as we are.”

“Oh, you horrible, loathsome, infuriating—” You whip around to beat his chest with the course book in your grasp — it’s the kind of book Hermione would consider for light reading.

“Irresistibly attractive—?” Sirius supplies for you, grin widening with as he captures your wrist with his hands.

“In your dreams!” You shrill.

You exhale slowly, eyes closing, chest rising when you take a sharp inhale. You open your eyes and stare straight at Harry — for a moment he fears that you’ll bite his head off. “Harry, dear, will you accompany me to the library? I think I’ve found something important regarding your situation.”

Harry nods. “Is it time already?”

“Yes,” You say firmly. “And time is of the essence. Come on.”

“Wait!” Lily calls out to you as you turn to head back to the castle, Harry in tow — he tries to avoid the way James is glaring at your linked arms. “Hogsmeade next week?”

Your jaw falls to the ground — this must have been unrehearsed, if the others’ reactions were anything to go by; Remus had dropped his book in shock, Sirius looked like he couldn’t decide between applauding Lily’s bravery or shaking her, and James was somehow frozen in time. “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused, princess,” says Lily, dimples poking out of her cheek as she takes another step towards you. “You, me, Hogsmeade. A date. I’m sure you’ve gone on one of those before.”

Harry elbows your stomach as you stare at Lily in shock. It takes a few moments to break you out of your stupor. “A–And what makes you think I’ll just go with you?”

Lily shrugs. “I’m fit. Aren’t I, Remus?”

“The fittest,” says Remus without missing a beat.

You laugh incredulously. “Do you just expect me to go along with this? You’re mad, Evans.”

Harry glares at you. You need to go along with this.

“Are you scared, princess?” Lily’s face is inches away from yours, noses almost touching — Harry doesn’t know if he should keep watching this painful way of flirting — as she grins at you, happiness barely contained within her eyes.

To your credit, you don’t back down. (Harry has to say this for the masses: he saw your gaze flitter down to Lily’s lips for a split second.) “Stop calling me that, Evans.”

“One date, then.”

You growl in exasperation, eyes flickering to the boys behind her back — pretending not to hear their conversation. “I suppose I’ll have to deal with them as well?”

Lily beams and Harry swears sunflowers could grow in her direction. “We’re a package deal.”

“Unfortunately,” You utter — but Harry notices it, the lack of venom in your voice. You straighten your posture, nose lifted haughtily, “I choose where we’re going.”

“Done.” The sun peeks out from the cloud just as Lily smiles at you.

“And I want to—”

“Done,” Remus interjects raspily, peering up at you from underneath his lashes. “Anything you want, it’s yours.”

You fight a growing smile, but continue, “If we’re going out in public, you’re going to have to wear—”

“Done,” says James giddily, he looks as though he could kiss you in front of everyone without a care in the world.

“You can’t just agree to anything I say!” You flap your arms in frustration.

“Yes, dear,” Sirius teases.

“Do you know how much you piss me off, Black?” You squawk. “Because you are this close to—”

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Sirius confesses, every pretense shed raw from his skin, sincerity pouring from his words.

“I—” You falter, heat rushing to your cheeks. “You’ve gone mad.”

“It’s your fault, dove,” says James, eyes twinkling like crescent moons as he smiles. “You best take accountability for this.”

“You’re incorrigible — all of you,” You say as you avoid their gazes.

(But they were yours. Past, present, and future. They loved you so much that their soul was no longer their own — it was yours; yours to keep, yours to break, and yours to love. It would be unjust to ask them why they loved you. Do we ask why the sun rises each day without rest? Do we ask a daisy to stop blooming, or a tree to stop growing after it has endured storms and floods? After all, we do not ask why humans follow the light in a tunnel shrouded in darkness.)

“Come on, Harry, let’s go.” You reach for his hand, he notices immediately that the tips of your ears are pink, and your palms are warm with sweat. He barely sees Peter wave goodbye before you tug him in the direction of the castle entrance.

“Wait up!” Remus catches up to you two in quick strides, offering to carry your books for you — not that you agree, stubborn Slytherin that you are. “I’ll walk you to the library.”

“There’s no need for that, Lupin, thank you.” You dodge his eyes, lips tightly pressed together, nails slightly digging into Harry’s arm.

“Remus,” He says with a twinkle. “Call me Remus.”

“Alright.” You pause. “Remus.”

(In that moment, Remus wonders if you remember decking Lucius Malfoy in the face to defend him in your fourth year. He didn’t think he deserved to even breathe in the same air as you — the pure-blooded princess, dressed in clothing worth more than his life, adorned in jewelry he could only dream to afford, raised to believe she was better than everyone else. Then, you beat up Evan Rosier the next month in the courtyard, eyes ablaze, extravagant silk marred with grass stains and mud, and knuckles split open. You spit blood on the ground, looking at Lily then back at Rosier. “Red,” You say, kicking him one last time in the stomach, unafraid of McGonagall’s wrath growing louder and louder. “Just like everyone else. Like those Muggleborns you fear. We’ve all got dirty blood, Rosier. Suck it up.”

“I’ll tell your father about this!” Rosier bellows through bloody teeth.

“Tell him!” You grab his neck and slam your forehead against his. “Tell him that I decide my own future now!”

Remus doesn’t even have to think about it.

He falls in love.)

FUNNILY ENOUGH, IT’S LILY who gives you her heart first, before anyone else does. It’s the last month of her first year at Hogwarts — it still hasn’t quite sunk in yet that she was a witch. Her, not Petunia, but her — Lily Evans, the witch. Apparently, some people can’t believe it either. A girl from Ravenclaw calls her this foul word, she’s heard it a few times now but it always hurts the same. James and Sirius get into a fight for her honor, now faced with detention later this evening. But she can’t help but wonder, what if they were right? What if she really didn’t belong in this world? It was too good to be true, anyway. Perhaps she’ll just run a flower boutique with Petunia.

“Oi.”

The sound of your voice startles her, and she nearly topples over in the Great Lake. Lily catches sight of your Slytherin colors and resigns herself to another round of name-calling. “What do you want?”

“They’re wrong, you know,” You tell her, ignoring Lily’s question. You look down on her with your nose raised arrogantly — she wishes she could be like you. Born to be magic. “You’ve got a terrifying brain locked up in your head there, Evans. And they know it, too. They’re scared.”

Lily scoffs. “I’m just a Mudblood to them. There’s nothing to be intimidated by.”

You sneer. “Don’t say that word. You’re more than that. More than them. They’ve got long ways to go to prove they have a place in this world. But you — you’ve defied the odds and you were destined to become magic. You don’t have to prove anything. You have the right to be in the wizarding world and no one can take that away from you.”

Then, you pivot on your heels, not bothering to hear her reply. “You’re my rival now, Evans. Do keep up. We’ve got an Astronomy test tomorrow. I look forward to seeing how you do then.”

Lily just gapes. She’s certain there’s butterflies in her stomach. Her heart thumps wildly against her ribcage. Lily raises her hands to feel her blushing cheeks. There’s a light unfamiliar sensation in her stomach — like the urge to kick her legs and scream into a pillow, or more precisely, chase after you and hold your hand.

She stiffens.

Oh.

part two

#hp angst #hp fluff #hp imagine #hp x reader #james potter x reader #lily evans x reader #marauders angst #marauders fluff #marauders imagine #marauders x reader #sirius black x reader #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders fluff #remus lupin x reader

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