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green-ville · 1 month

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Regrets

pt 4

TW: talk of a past suicide, with detail. also talk of a past character death with detail.

Synopsis: When Sirius Black came to her and asked her to watch over his godson, she didn’t think it would end up like this.

A Triwizard Tournament. The strongest, bravest, most courageous. Three willing participants to take on challenges larger than life and only one would be the victor of eternal glory. People had died in this challenge. Only an idiot would put their name in it.

When Sirina’s name is called, it was the last thing she expected.

When Harry’s name was called, the fourth wizard in a tournament of three, she knew her Uncle Sirius was right.

Someone was trying to kill him. And from the fact that she didn’t put her name in the Goblet of Fire, someone was clearly trying to kill her as well.

Family meant everything to her. Sirina refused to let Harry Potter die, and she’d take every risk to keep him alive.

Classes weren’t that bad. She knew no one in any of her classes and since she was always the first one there, she got preferential treatment. Aka, she picked her favorite seat. It was in the back corner of the room.

The only class she foresaw issues with was Potions. Professor Snape, for a reason she could not figure out, hated her. He called on her frequently, as if trying to catch her off guard. She always paid attention in class. The boarding school she had gone to before Ilvermorny had seared that into her head. The issue was she didn’t have 84 years of experience in potions, and when asked about the history of eyes of Newt she was at a bit of a disadvantage.

One particular lesson a few weeks in stuck out like a sore thumb.

“Perhaps you will remember to pay attention, next time,” he drawled slowly. “Or at the very least, read the required material before showing up to class and wasting everyone’s time. Your father may have gotten by with a careless attitude, but rest assured, you will not.”

The embarrassment that disabled her clashed into her boiling rage in a storm more violent than any hurricane, any tornado, any tsunami that had ever been, or ever will be. The glare that fixed itself onto her face could kill any grown man with a mere glance.

Did he know her father? How could he say such horrible things about him if he knew Regulus? Or perhaps he was just another one of the crowds that said Regulus was a monster, Regulus was a Deatheater and deserved to fade from existence, forgotten by everyone.

Siri bet that Snape had never even had a single fucking conversation with him.

He would not ruin her image of Regulus no matter what he said. She knew her father better than anyone.

When they finished their potions they could leave. The intense emotions made it harder to focus and Siri had trouble reading Snape’s handwriting. Even after copying it down in her notebook, written in a way that made it harder for her brain to screw up, she still took a long time.

She was actually the last in the room.

When she was finally done, flustered and on the verge of throwing something, she bottled it up and set it on one of the stands on Snape’s desk.

He didn’t even look at her to remark, “Troll.”

“Oh, now you’re calling me a Troll?” She exclaimed, about to lose it, halfway lost already. “You are one of the most unprofessional – “

“No,” his lip curled with a snarl. “That’s your grade. Troll. It’s the lowest failing grade I can give you for not turning in what I very simply ordered. You have eyes and yet you can’t seem to read the clear instructions laid out on the board. Your father always did what he wanted too, without any care for anything. And look at where he is now.”

Dead.

Her father was dead.

He had the nerve to insult a dead man right to the face of his daughter?

Tears burned her dry eyes, and it happened. She lost it.

She didn’t know how he found out that Regulus Black was her father when her Uncle had gone to such lengths to make sure she was only known as Sirina Argent. Headmaster Dumbledore said the secret would stay between them, but apparently he was just another liar. Her Uncle trusted him too much, it would seem.

“You’re right,” Siri said with a sweet smile, eyes shinning with promise for a revenge so ruthless Satan would tell her to calm down. “The instructions were simple. I do have eyes. Forgive me, your majesty, for my insolence. Perhaps next week we can work on a potion to cure my Dyslexia because sometimes my brain switches letters around and your ‘simple instructions’ become an unsolvable clusterfuc-“

“I did not ask for excuses,” he cut in cooly. “Though I should have expected them from you – “

“Oh what,” she exclaimed, stepping back, “did my father give excuses for everything too?”

He snarled a, “yes. And one day his past will catch up to him again and he’ll return to Azkaban just as he belongs. I’m sure there’ll be a cell waiting for you beside him as well since you’re so desperate to follow in his footsteps. Why don’t you start by 2 weeks of detention, 7 pm. Sirius would be very proud – “

Siri did the most shocking thing yet.

She slapped him clean across the face.

Finally he was silent.

Siri seethed quietly, more enraged than she had ever thought possible. “My father,” she began quietly, barely controlled. “Was Regulus Black, not Sirius. If you’re going to hate me, at least get that straight. And don’t bother trying to alert him of my behavior, he died 16 years ago. You could try my mother, but she’s dead as well. My Uncle, on the other hand, will be informed of exactly how you have treated me these past few weeks and you rest assured, Professor Snape, there will be consequences to your actions.”

She stormed off, flicking her wand in the direction of her books, sending them straight into her hands. She snatched her backpack as it soared her way too, and then she stormed out of the room and into the crowd of the next class.

In it, finally, a face she recognized.

Harry blinked at her as she shoved her way through. “Siri! What’s wrong?” He called after her.

“Everything’s absolutely alright! Snape, on the other hand, is on his period.”

Siri seriously considered skipping Defense Against the Dark Arts. She was too emotional right now for it to be any good for her.

But she had a perfect record. She had never missed a class period. She had to at least try. Or at least show up to get credit for the class.

Professor Moody was unorthodox and borderline unethical. Today was a stations day and honestly, she never should have gone.

Not with potions having happened. Not with her lack of sleep. Not with that damn Deatheater that she saw during the day now.

It was a cumulative exam day. They were going to be faced with a number of different trails they had to overcome. All but one were easy. All but one she passed with flying colors. She had taken extra-curricular defense magic since she could do magic, of course she passed it all.

And then the Boggart came.

Siri wasn’t thinking, how could she? She was still flustered, fried, exhausted from potions.

Inside the large wooden wardrobe, it rattled. Professor Moody stood off to the side, leaning against the wall.

“Wand at the ready Argent. Wand at the ready.”

Her quivering hand raised. That shake had persisted since the World Cup.

“Steady now,” he warned, and opened the wardrobe.

Black fog washed out of the wardrobe in heavy puffs. It covered the entire ten feet in front of her, and her wand shakily remained aimed forward.

Even when the smoke dissipated, and she saw who was in front of her, even then it remained forward.

A man she didn’t remember. A woman she couldn’t forget. His arm was around hers. He was barely taller than her, but he had eyes that were kind for a rare few.

“You weren’t enough to keep me alive,” her father told her. The façade dropped as water gushed out of his mouth, and he held his throat, choking on water that kept gushing. Splattering on the floor in front of them.

One of the many students behind her gasped loudly.

“Argent,” Moody warned, gruff.

Her father fell to his knees, choking. Face turning pink. . .red. . .blue. He collapsed to the ground as it became too much, body shaking as his body suffered from too little oxygen inside it. . .then none at all.

Her mother barely looked at him as she stood on a chair, a rope coming down from the ceiling, noose already tied. It came into her awaiting hands. Her father stopped moving entirely, water soaking the floor. Her shoes.

“Professor!” A student exclaimed.

“You weren’t worth fighting for,” her mother said, fitting the noose snuggly on her head. “And one day soon you’ll give up like we did. No one to keep you going because no one will ever care about you.”

“PROFESSOR!” The same student exclaimed.

Her mother stepped off the chair just like she had done all those years ago. The rope pulled taught –

“Ridiculous,” a soft whisper. The boggarts vanished in a swirl of black fog, sucking back into the wardrobe that Moody closed with a tap of his gnarled walking stick.

The silence didn’t even register to her.

She hadn’t seen that part of it. Her mother stepping off. She heard a chair clatter. Little Siri was curious. She went to find out.

She found a body swinging from the ceiling, and she screamed.

She didn’t see the first part though.

And her father. She had never seen how he died. All she could confidently say was that he didn’t think he was going back, and the location he had told her of was near the cliffs of Moher.

As she thought about it later on, when she was older, she assumed drowning. She had never confirmed it.

“Argent. . .”

Siri blinked, languid, and stared at Professor Moody.

“Go to Madame Pomfrey.” She didn’t think it possible for him to speak in anything that resembled a gentle tone.

Siri turned, ignoring the crowd of staring students, and left the room. This time she forgot her things entirely.

She didn’t know who Madame Pomfrey was. Quite frankly she didn’t give a shit.

Siri needed to write a letter and she was going to write one, so she went to the Owlery. She found some paper, pulled out a stupid freaking quill because apparently pens were archaic, and wrote her longest message ever. Her hands kept shaking, and honestly she couldn’t read her own words. They moved around and showed her words she hadn’t wrote, calling her idiot, dumb, failure in more ways than dialect had invented.

She had to trust he’d be able to decipher it, because she was already sending the message away on a borrowed Owl.

When she heard other people coming she slipped away quietly, unseen, and went to her hiding place. She normally only came here during the night when she couldn’t sleep. No Deatheater had ever bothered her on the roof tiles of Hogwarts. Coming during the day was different. The tiles were warm on her back. The breeze that brushed past carried the scent of pine and fall weather, which had set in not long ago.

It was peaceful.

“Care if I join you?”

If she had the energy, she’d have jolted from fear. She didn’t have the energy. Even turning her head was a chore.

Cedric Diggory was not who she expected.

She faced the sky again.

“Alright, taking that as a tentative yes,” he said, carefully making his way towards her, balance perfect. He sat down slowly, and then fully committed to laying down right beside her, his left side against her right side.

“I heard what happened.”

She didn’t respond.

“That’s a lot to happen all in a day.”

What was he expecting from this conversation? A teary revelation?

“Snape was out of line. Potter heard everything, relayed the message to me because he couldn’t find you. I had an idea on where you were though, and here you are.”

Her brow raised. Her voice was raspy. “You knew I was here?”

“Course. You always come here at night.”

He knew?

“I’m a Prefect. It’s my job to know when people are out of bed,” he admitted, and those butterflies in her stomach died. “When I first saw you I was terrified. Thought you were going to. . .but you didn’t. You just laid there. For hours. You don’t sleep a lot, do you?” He asked gently, staring at the cloudy sky with her.

“I try.”

“I don’t suppose it’ll help at all if I said I’m sorry for what happened?”

“No.” She had heard enough “I’m sorry” the day of her mother’s funeral. She was sure she had heard them for her father’s funeral, but that she didn’t remember. No memories haunted her of her father, only the lack of them.

“Then I guess I’ll just be here for you if you need to talk.”

“And what if I never want to talk?” She asked, still raspy. “What if I want to pretend this never happened? That everything was normal again?”

“Well, I don’t know how likely that is to happen. Word spread. . .I think the entire student body knows you’re Sirius’ Black niece by now.”

Tears pooled again. “And Potter still tried to look for me?”

“If I’m to be honest, he didn’t seem to care about that fact.”

The tears slipped down, the silence settled and he didn’t leave. He stayed beside her as if he could actually content where he was. And perhaps it was her need to finally talk, perhaps it was because she hadn’t seen Mandy in forever and they hadn’t spoken since she left; perhaps it was because she was so freaking tired she couldn’t even think right now without her head throbbing so bad she wanted to vomit.

It was likely multifactorial.

She started to speak.

“My father died when I was young. I don’t remember him,” she admitted with a sniffle. “He wrote me letters though. From before I was born to the day he never came back. So it feels like I knew him. He made a lot of bad choices. For a time he was a bad person. He made the right decisions in the end. . . and. . .and my mother tried to hold on. She did. It was too much. I found her after she took her life.”

“Sirina. . .”

“So I grew up and I had this code. I wouldn’t have any regrets. My father had regrets and to amend for them, he gave his life for the cause. And my mother died because she couldn’t live without him. So I wouldn’t have regrets. Even if I didn’t like what I was doing, I refused to regret my decision. . .Until that day.”

“The World Cup,” he responded, knowing.

She nodded as much as she could, tears slipping into her hair. “I saw those Deatheaters. . .I tried to stop them. . .and there was this spell. I had never heard of it before, never seen it before. . .I can’t stop thinking about it now.” She laughed humorlessly. “I remember it cutting me open. I was choking on my own blood. I thought I was going to die – I should have died. Someone saved me, they knew the reversal spell. I kinda wish they hadn’t because now I can’t sleep. And at first it was just I can’t sleep, but now the Deatheater haunts me during the day. I see him and it’s always the same thing over and over again. He uses that spell and I go down, choking, helpless. . .”

“It won’t happen again,” Cedric stated, his own firm belief prominent in his tone.

She laughed again. “You can’t be certain of that.”

“If I’m always by you, yes I can. I’ll protect you.”

“From a Deatheater?” She asked, disbelieving.

He turned his head down to hers. As if drawn by an invisible pull, she looked up to him.

“From anything,” he responded simply. “Anything and anyone.”

“You can’t. . .” She couldn’t whisper anymore.

“I will,” he answered again, just as simply. “Like now, I am going to protect you from a great long fall by asking that we go to a safer location to hide from people. Have you ever been to the Astronomy Tower? Just as high up, but with bars in the way.”

Despite the shift in tone, he carried the same level of intimacy as before.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared?” She asked, trying to joke.

He shook his head. “Of course not, but I can’t chivalrously save you from falling to your death if I am also falling to my death.”

She didn’t know how she would’ve responded to that, her stomach growled first.

“I have food in my satchel,” he offered.

“We’re not allowed to take food out of the Great Hall, mister Prefect” she said, brow piqued.

“I didn’t,” he grinned, winking. “Took it out of the kitchen directly. Fifth year’s area always stressed and forget to eat. I’ve found it best to keep some snacks on hand at all times to prevent hunger deprived studying.”

His care for others was the reason she allowed him to help her up. Why he decided to keep hold of her hand was beyond her. When they got up though, she stopped right away.

Cedric glanced to her. “It’s that way,” he pointed.

“I’m hallucinating a pirate ship now.”

“What?. . .Nope. . .I see it too. . .”

“So we’re both hallucinating a pirate ship?”

“It must be the hunger. We should go eat something.”

They left the roof but both kept looking in the direction of the Pirate ship that docked in the Black Lake. Neither knew that if they had kept searching the grounds on the rooftop, they’d also find a French Mansion newly added to the landscape.

Instead they sat in the Astronomy Tower right beside the railing. They leaned against the metal bars, on opposite side of the opening from each other, feet intermittently intertwined. Cedric’s foot, her foot, Cedric’s foot, her foot.

He knocked her foot again with another question.

“I could help you in potions. . .if you need.”

“I. . .Everything circulated, didn’t it?”

“A bit. It would be covert. No one would know about it. Just you and me.”

She took a bite of the brownie. She liked that idea.

“I have trouble reading sometimes,” all the time, but whatever. “I uh, I have Dyslexia. The letters kinda get screwy. Normally I can figure it out, but under pressure it’s harder.”

That alone was hard to admit.

“I’ll do my best to help. . .” He drifted off, both of them picking up on the sounds of leather shoes on stairs.

This belonged to nicer shoes than what they wore.

And it belonged to a man better dressed than them too.

Siri couldn’t help her surprise, the emotion showing on her face as clear as day.

“You came?” She asked, not expecting that. She thought maybe a letter to Dumbledore, but this?

Her Uncle, Mr. Argent, entered the Astronomy Tower. He found her immediately, and sighed in relief.

“Sirina, first things first,” he was professional and orderly even now. “Are you alright?”

“Better now,” she admitted, standing up. “I. . .I didn’t mean to pull you away, I’m sorry, I was upset – “

“And you had every right to be,” he cut in. “I plan to talk to Dumbledore immediately. I’m supposed to be in a meeting with him now but when he said you had skipped the rest of your classes for the day, I had to find you. You never skip classes, I knew it was serious.”

She didn’t have anymore tears inside her. What she did have? The energy to surge forward and throw her arms around him, squeezing him as tight as she could. He didn’t hesitate this time to hug her back.

And for the first time ever, she knew what it was like to have a father.

The meeting with Dumbledore, Professor Sprout (Head of House), Madame Pomfrey, Snape, and Moody was eventful.

Snape was reprimanded, not only had to provide a verbal apology but agree to corrective action, and he was put on warning that if anything of the sort ever happened again, he’d be terminated on the spot. Her Uncle helped with that last bit. Being close co-workers with the Minister of Magic had its benefits.

Professor Moody, seeing as it was his first offense, had to provide his course syllabus for intense review. He had to apologize for not intervening when the situation clearly became inappropriate for sixth year expectations.

The conversation with Madame Pomfrey was private, just Siri and her. She told the Healer of her nightmares, of her difficulty sleeping. Madame Pomfrey was going to be providing her sleeping potions for a dreamless night, and Siri had to schedule a meeting with her twice a week for chatting.

Apparently she needed ‘therapy’. It was either that or detention for swearing and accusing a male professor of having a period in front of younger students.

“So,” Professor Dumbledore said, hands folded on his desk. “Do we have a deal, Mr. Argent? All your requests will be met, and in exchange you will abstain from legal action?”

“You’ll never hear from me again, as long as I don’t get another letter like the one I received,” he assured. “If I do, then I will return and without the opportunity for you to keep your Professors in check.”

Professor Dumbledore smiled. “I’m glad we’re in agreement. May I see you out?”

“If you so choose.”

They made their way out, heading down the spiral staircase controlled by a bronze Gryffin with its wings spread wide. That seemed like he was picking favorites.

She didn’t expect to see Cedric waiting just outside it, and she stopped, brows raised.

“Cedric?”

“Hey! Oh. . .Headmaster,” he nodded, “Sir,” he nodded to her Uncle.

“Cedric,” her Uncle repeated, “Amos’ boy?”

“Yes sir. Pleasure to meet you,” he held out his hand.

Her Uncle shook it, gaze calculating. “I trust you can show her back to her dorms?”

“I’d be happy to sir.”

“Good.” He nodded, then turned to Sirina, giving her a kiss on the forehead that had her blinking. “Write me if anything else comes up. I’ll see you tomorrow for lunch.”

“See you then. . .” She stopped herself from saying ‘love you’, and instead finished with, “thanks for everything.”

“Of course. Be good.”

He walked off with Professor Dumbledore, chatting with him privately.

“You didn’t have to wait – “

“That was never in question. I had to see how you were doing.”

Damnit, why was he so nice?

She sagged, running a hand through her wavey black hair. “Better, actually. A lot better. Had a bit of a mental breakdown earlier. . .apparently talking through things helps?”

Cedric laughed as he walked beside her. “I could’ve told you that. You can talk with me anytime, I’ll be happy to listen.”

“Obviously the same to you. Anytime you need to rant or shout, I’m there, got it?”

He smiled down at her. “Sounds like a plan Siri. How about we don’t study potions tonight and take it easy instead? I figured out why that pirate ship was in the Lake.”

“We’re being attacked?”

“Even worse,” he said, tsking, “the Triwizard Tournament.”

That was the last thing she really heard from him. It acted as a trigger word, yanking her right back to the conversation she had with Sirius.

Triwizard Tournament.

Something happens to Harry every year.

Protect him.

And she had been so overwhelmed these past weeks that she had completely forgot.

“They put an age restriction on it though,” Cedric explained. “Only 17 and up.”

Thank God. He was 14, he was nowhere near close to being able to do it.

“I was thinking of putting my name in it.”

She stopped, chest tightening. “What? But – but no, that’s dangerous. C’mon.”

He turned to face her, smiling again like her fear made him happy. “They’ve got more protection this time Siri. And there’s no way of knowing if I’ll actually get in. Loads of people are putting their names in. . .I’d regret it if I didn’t actually try.”

That word. Damn that word.

She understood because she was the same way, and she refused to be a hypocrite.

Piercing her lips, she reached for his hand, holding it tightly. “If you get in, I’m ordering you to be careful, alright? No stupid heroics. You be careful.”

“You worried about me Black?” He grinned, stormy gaze twinkling.

“I’m always worried about you Diggory,” she huffed out. “You saw me and thought I’d make a good friend. Clearly there are a few wires loose up there.”

“How could I not want to be your friend? You’re one of the most loyal and compassionate people I’ve ever met. Anyone would be lucky to be your friend.”

She hugged him before she knew what she was doing. He smelled like outside and she loved the outdoors, so she hugged him tighter, eyes shutting.

“If you get in, you’re going to be careful. Whatever happens I’ll do my best to help, okay? You need to practice spells, I will figure out the best spells. You need to practice potions, I’ll grab the ingredients if you point to them cause I can’t fucking read,” he chuckled as he hugged her back, cheek on her head. “But you have to be careful, okay?”

“It’s a deal Siri. I help you with potions, and if my name is called, you help me with the Tournament.”

#harry potter #hp #hogwarts #sirius black #cedric diggory #cedric diggory x oc #regulus black #regulus black daughter #severus snape #albus dumbledore #professor moody

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engie-ivy · 2 years

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@wolfstarmicrofic (The summary may sound angsty, but it's actually very fluffy!)

Winning a war takes sacrifices, but if you sacrifice love, what is there even left to win?

7th: Limit

Lily keeps prodding Remus, checking him for injuries, but Remus, like everyone else in the room, is too focused on the confrontation going on in the middle to really notice.

Moody is giving Sirius a glare that would make most wizards and witches cower, but Sirius, while pressing a cloth to the bleeding gash on his forehead, is meeting his glare head on, giving one of his own that is in no way inferior to Moody’s.

“No matter what!” Moody scolds. “You were supposed to keep your cover no matter what! That’s what we agreed upon when you accepted this mission!”

“There’s a limit,” Sirius replies coolly. “And for me that limit is letting Remus get killed.”

“Lupin had his own mission,” Moody replies. “And he knew the risks when he accepted it.”

Remus scoffs. Of course, when you go on a mission for the Order, you know there’s a risk, but Remus doesn’t believe any eighteen-year-old is ever truly prepared to die.

That’s why coming so close to it had been terrifying.

Remus’ task had been to go into the werewolf community and get an idea of what members might oppose You Know Who, and might be willing to pass on information about his orders for Greyback. Unfortunately, one of the werewolves Remus thought he could trust had passed the word on what Remus was doing, and soon, Remus had found himself ambushed, captured, and taken to a Death Eater Headquarter.

A Death Eater Headquarter under the control of the notorious Death Eater Sirius Black, heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, one of You Know Who’s most feared and prominent followers despite his young age, due to his pristine blood-line and exceptional magical talent. And, oh yeah, also an undercover spy for the Order of the Phoenix.

It would’ve been smarter if Sirius had waited it out, see if an opportunity would arise to sneak Remus out unseen, but upon hearing them mention torturing Remus for information before killing him, Sirius had immediately attacked. The fool man. Surely, Remus could’ve made it through one torture session.

Luckily, Remus had been able to obtain a wand and join Sirius in the fighting, and together, they made it out alive. Though, needless to say, Sirius’ cover was fully blown.

Moody shakes his head. “Use your brain, Black! You made it to He Who Must Not Be Named’s inner circle. His inner circle! All that planning, all that preparation, all those months of work, all thrown away. Just to think about the information you could’ve collected... Information that might have helped end the war, saved Merlin knows how many lives! How much is Lupin’s life then really worth?”

“To me?” Sirius crosses his arms over his chest and lifts his chin defiantly. “Everything.”

Remus’ annoyance at hearing Moody haggle over the value of his life with Remus standing right there, dissipates, and a warm feeling spreads across his chest. He suddenly has the overwhelming urge to be alone with Sirius, and wishes everyone would just leave them alone. Sirius and he both just saw the other almost die, and before that, they hadn’t seen each other in over a year, when neither of them had known if they would ever see each other again, and many things had been left unsaid.

“If you’re going to be an Auror,” Moody says, although Sirius has said many times he doesn’t want to be an Auror, but Moody doesn’t really seem to care about what Sirius wants, having already decided Sirius and James are going to be his new star recruits. “You must learn to think rationally! You’re too impulsive, too emotional.”

“Alastor!” McGonagall intervenes. “There’s no need for all this. You sent a nineteen-year-old boy into an incredibly dangerous situation that much more experienced wizards would have shied away from, and not only has he provided us with important information over the last months and managed to make it out alive, he also saved the life of a highly valued member of the Order, and all you do is scold him?”

“Minerva,” Moody replies, not showing a hint of regret. “You know as well as I do that we can’t afford mistakes like this.”

“Saving Remus was not a mistake!” Sirius says firmly.

Moody sighs. “I’m not being cold-hearted, I’m just balancing the stakes. Sure, I’m glad Lupin made it back. He’s a very useful resource, highly skilled in his spellwork, not to mention his contacts within the Lycanthrope community. But ending the war is our main priority! We must focus on the higher goal! Why attach so much value to one man’s life?”

“Because I love him!” Sirius’ voice echoes through the room, and Remus can hear gasps from the Order members around, as his own breath catches in his throat.

For a moment, Sirius seems surprised by his own outburst, but then determination appears in his eyes and he turns to Remus. “I love you, Moony. I spent all this time wishing I would’ve had the courage to say it and fearing I would never have the chance again.”

“Oh, Padfoot.” Remus pulls his arm free from Lily’s grip and stumbles forward in his haste to get to the man he loves, and finally, finally, he’s able to fall into Sirius’ arms. “I love you too.”

Minerva looks across the room to where young Mr Lupin and young Mr Black are sitting next to each other on the couch, their faces close together, whispering softly to each other and seeing nothing else but the other.

Alastor steps up besides her, following her gaze. “You know this is what’s going to lose us the war. This weakness.”

“No, Alastor. You’re wrong,” Minerva says, without averting her gaze from the affectionate scene. “This is what’s going to win us the war. This is what gives us something they’ll never have, something worth fighting for.” She watches as Lupin reaches out to brush a strand of hair behind Black’s ear, careful to avoid the cut on his forehead, and letting his fingers linger where they are lightly touching the other boy’s cheek, and she smiles. “Love.”

#my tumblr writing #wolfstar microfic #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #alastor moody #professor mcgonagall #minerva mcgonagall #wolfstar fluff

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