#remus x reader fluff | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

enviedear · 2 years

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my dear ⟶ remus lupin

DESCRIPTION ⌙ in which reader tries to spark inspiration for her writing at her friends' vacation home, and remus lupin is trying to do the exact same. PAIRING ⌙ remus x fem!reader WORD COUNT ⌙ 5.1k WARNINGS ⌙ nsfw, eighteen and up only. and i will block you if you're an ageless blog or a minor. respect my boundaries. lowercase intended, mentions of food and eating it, very filthy smut i'm so sorry.

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the dewy and thick morning air almost stifles you as you stare out to the expansive lake just beyond your balcony. the water is murky, matching the gloom around it, but you can see one remus lupin down below on the patio, cigarette clad in his fingers and pen in another. he's sat in deep concentration, papers in front of him and cooling coffee directly beside. you know the look on his face all too well. you're sure he's seen it as much on you as himself.

the face of unmoving thought and well-wishing for something— anything, to spark an idea. his face is marked red from the cold, and his hair is still bedridden. but in a way, he handles having no inspiration far better than you. you, who is sulking in a grand room avoiding her friends' call for breakfast.

"i know it's dreary—" lily had said, and you had interrupted, "—it's a drafty old house in the middle of nowhere."

"it could spark inspiration though! think of all that writing you can do there." james had argued, glasses in his hands, eyes squinted.

you smiled, despite the sinking feeling in your stomach, "fine, i'll go. no arguments on my end.”

the couple had grinned, ear to ear, "we promise you'll fall in love with it— just like we did."

you can say with confidence now, that you have not fallen in love with lily and james' fixer-upper vacation home. there was beauty within it, sure, and you saw how much the two enjoy taking on the project but their love for it is unable to hide the fact that the air is stiff, the paint chipping, and the rooms are reeking of mold.

you slip away from the balcony, drawing one last glance at remus, before slowly making your way into the wallpapered bathroom connected to your room.

there are hundreds of articles of clothing strewn about the tiled floor, but you can't force yourself to pick them up just yet. the bathroom seems to reflect your own mess of a mind. you stare at yourself in the mirror and sigh before washing your face.

the water is lukewarm, despite you wishing for it to be boiling, and as you pat your face dry you hear a loud creak come from beside you.

"sorry— didn't mean to startle you." lily's cool voice calls, eyes scanning the messy bathroom.

you smile, grabbing for your toothbrush, "you're fine lils."

you start brushing your teeth, giving her the opportunity to ambush you with questions she knows you can't answer. "have you started writing yet?"

you shake your head no, watching as she purses her lips, "well james and i were thinking that maybe working on the house may help. a little distraction— or maybe it'll bore you into writing."

you spit into the sink, "don't worry about it lils. i promise that this bout of writer's block has nothing to do with you. if anything, it's my fault."

she hands you a sweater from the floor, "whatever you say. just know that i'm always here if you need anyone to bounce ideas off of," she motions to the expanse of clothing on the ground, "—or help you clean up after yourself."

you laugh, "the cleaning i will get to, sorry."

she shrugs, "we're about to gut it anyway. which reminds me—"

you throw your oversized tee shirt off, slipping the ratty sweater on, "you're throwing me out?"

"no, you'll just have to share with remus for a bit. is that okay?" she asks.

you walk out of the bathroom and to the desk, grabbing a stray pair of jeans with paint splattered on them, "just sharing the bathroom? i get to keep my room?"

you try to avoid the stupid thoughts you have when topic drifts to the man, your friend. you try as much as possible to avoid letting anyone know just how much his name can send you into a state of bliss.

she leans against the wardrobe, "just the bathroom, and just for a week."

you smile, "sounds fine to me, miss landlord," you grab your journal, "come on, time to be functioning members of society."

she toys with her hair, in a long braid, "honestly love, i think you're the only one not functioning right now."

"play nice, lils." your voice is joking.

the redhead giggles, bounding down the steps at a pace you're unwilling to follow. instead, you take your time reaching the kitchen, taking in the dim sunlight shining around you.

when you come into the recently redone and very blue kitchen, your eyes find your friends. most of them are done with breakfast and probably on their second rounds of coffee.

lily has found her place in james' lap, dorcus looks to be eyeing the kettle, marlene etches something onto a tiny canvas while sirius plays with one of her unused brushes, and finally, remus is sifting through piles of papers, unalert to the people around him.

you try to avoid staring at him, at the way his buttoned shirt isn't fully done, exposing just a bit of his chest.

"morning." dorcus grumbles, curly hair in a tight low bun.

you salute her, "you seem quite excited for the day."

as you take a seat, beside remus, he finally seems to notice his surroundings and offers you a small smile.

"i hate the morning." dorcus continues simply.

you hum and reach for a few pancakes, drenching them in lily's homemade blueberry syrup, "at least they're fleeting, dori."

you hear sirius laugh and look at him, "what on earth is funny about that?"

he smirks, "just the things you say. you've got writer written all over you— even in the way you talk."

you roll your eyes, almost able to ignore him, "goodness, what does that mean?"

"he's being rude—" james chides, "—he's really just trying to say that you have a poetic way of speaking."

sirius snorts, "poetic, pretentious. same thing."

this time you stay quiet, opting to eat your pancakes. you do often wonder if you sound pretentious and, sirius, without fail often will joke that you do. you try to come to the conclusion that you're toeing the line.

"sirius stop satirizing bright young women, it's unbecoming." remus mumbles, a soft grin on his lips.

the black haired man groans, but has a sharp smirk on his face, "big words, i hate 'em. god, you writers' are vexatious."

you put your fork down, eyes narrowed, "i dare you to spell that, sirius."

he throws his hands up, "got me there. i really should look more carefully at my word-a-day calendar."

you chuckle and shake your head at him.

"he's got a point though," marlene starts, a familiar smirk on her face, "you two have writer written all over you."

remus cards his fingers through his hair, sitting back farther into his chair and grin playing his lips, "i'm not a writer—"

dorcus interrupts him, finally pouring her tea, "—you're an academic. shove off, it's the same thing. only she writes fiction you write scholarly journals. i will die on this hill."

"but it's not the same thing!" both remus and you exhaust.

marlene laughs, "you're proving our point. you're two peas in a pod. passionate in everything that you do."

you look at remus, who gives you a wink, "they just don't get it, do they?"

you can't help but to smile, "no, they don't."

breakfast continues on, less rambunctious. by the time you've put your plate and mug away the kitchen is empty. quiet, you stare out of the window, pausing your sip from your cup of coffee, and watch as james orders both sirius and remus around the garden.

remus has his signature smile on his face as he shovels into the ground, juxtaposed to sirius who seems to hate the idea of planting rose bushes.

you think, how strange it is for you to watch people so intently. be it the writer within you or just your general way of being, you can't help but notice the ways people navigate through their days.

remus is your favorite, a conclusion you mark up while walking down to the small dock just off the property line. as you study the small waves coming from the lake below you, you think of the small things you've noticed about him that make him, well, him.

there's the plainly obvious, such as his scars and sandy brown hair. but your favorite bits are the ones that have taken you years of friendship to see.

in year four, you finally saw how his lips would curve into a genuine smile whenever you said something to pique his interest. now, it feels as familiar as the brown hue of his eyes. or, you think, when you noticed the way his voice raises when he's about to make a joke.

truthfully there are countless unassuming parts of remus that find a way into your mind. and without much thought, you start writing them down, the beginnings of an expansive list.

— has a penchant for anything the color green

— will laugh if you stare just long enough

— watches his posture, but only if sirius is in the room

— gets wide-eyed whenever someone stumbles

— can't help but to deadpan if he gets bored of a conversation

somehow, without your knowing the list turns into somewhat of a retelling. bits of moments shared with him. years of moments becoming words to a story you had no notion of writing.

you're smiling as you try to remember just exactly it was he had said to make you laugh so hard in sixth year when a whistled tune sounds behind you.

you jolt slightly and look to find the subject of your newfound inspiration.

"remus?" it sounds like a question, even though you hadn't meant for it to.

he smiles, "as far as i'm aware."

you close your journal, "sorry, i'm becoming more easily frightened."

remus crouches beside you, wrapping an arm around you, "well, scaredy cat, i need your help."

you furrow your brows, "with what?"

he chuckles, nose pink from the wind, "fiction."

you quirk your head to the side, "are you attempting to steal my fanbase?"

"just maybe," he jokes, "no, i— i'm working on a study about fiction, and if it provides substance for critical thinking even more so than nonfiction or evidence-backed research papers."

you hum, "sure?"

"sorry that probably sounded like nonsense," he rolls his eyes at his own expense, "all i need from you, my dear, is your mind. would it sound horrible for me to pick through it?"

you grin, leaning into his embrace, "horrible? it sounds lovely, be my guest."

and so the two of you sit, for hours, him asking you an abundance of questions, and you happy to oblige him. when the sun begins to set he sighs, "i've talked your ear off, and i say it's high time we head in for dinner."

you want to tell him, no. that you'd love nothing more than to keep talking with him, but a part of you figures that that sort of reaction is somewhat crazed— so you don't.

"i enjoyed it though," is what you settle on saying instead, "and if it's any consolation, you were my muse today too."

you try to say it as if it's not such a big deal, just a regular occurrence. by the look of remus' face however, it does not seem to go over in that manner.

"what do you mean?" his question is soft.

you shrug, "i wrote today, nothing cohesive, just it was about us, i don't know. it just happened."

"i've never been a muse before," his smile is comforting, "i'd love to read it."

you feel your stomach drop, "oh, no not yet, not until it's finished."

like hell you'd ever let him read countless romanticized memories of himself held dear in your own point of view. it would simply be too telling.

he rises, helping you up with him, "fine by me, my dear."

you take his arm in yours, an awkward smile on your face as you walk back to the house. it's that thing, he's been calling you, you realize. my dear.

something about it has ignited a long-forgotten, or unassuming, fire within you, forcing you to draw up any reason to stay right beside him, following along like a lost puppy.

suddenly you've become so delicately attached to remus. possibly this time around rivaling the stupid childhood crush you thought you rid yourself of. because now, in what feels like mere seconds, you're unable to have any thought other than him.

as you sit beside him at dinner you stare at your journal— it suddenly feels more like a teenager's secret diary. you think you'd die if he ever read it.

in your deep thought, you miss when marlene calls your name, causing sirius to shove you with his elbow, "excuse you."

sirius sticks out his tongue, and motions to marlene, "she made me."

rolling your eyes you focus on marlene, "yes?"

"i wanted to know what you've been writing about. dori and i saw you scribbling away down at the dock." she exhausts, as though the news is pertinent.

you stiffen, "just an outline."

dorcus rolls her eyes, "about what?"

remus answers instead of you, "you know better than to ask a writer what they're working on until it's done, dori."

you thank him with a ginger glance.

dinner passes quickly by, your thoughts lingering still on remus. by the time you're cleaning up after dinner with lily, you're sure that these thoughts are absolutely insane.

"remus looked happy tonight." lily says, handing you a plate to dry.

you side-eye her, "remus always looks happy?"

shrugging she says, "happier than usual. james says it's because of you."

you guffaw, "me? oh please."

"yes, you. what's so unbelievable about that?" her voice is cool.

you smile and roll your eyes, "i see where you're trying to take this."

lily goes quiet for a minute before whispering, "i see the way he looks at you."

you glance at her, setting your rag down gently, "he's my friend."

her green eyes dart around the room before she steps closer to you, "yes, he's your friend— who is absolutely in love with you. have you noticed how genuinely he takes whatever you're saying or doing in? merlin, y/n, he's worse than james was with me."

you sigh, "i don't seem to remember a time that remus declared his love for me in the middle of a quidditch match?"

she frowns, face annoyed, "oh, you know what i mean. he may not be as loud about it as, some, but i know he feels it. i have a way of knowing these things, you know? and i can see it on you too, you like him."

dishes now long forgotten, you huff, "lily listen, i adore that man. i would know if he felt the same. believe me. he sees me as his friend."

the redhead is about to argue back when james and remus enter the kitchen, loudly carrying on a conversation.

james looks the both of you over, a curious look on his face, "heavens moony, what have we walked in on?"

remus seems taken aback by your presence, "don't meddle, prongs."

"one out of two are my fianceé, i'll meddle all i want," james says, strutting over to lily and wrapping his arms around her. "what's the gossip, beloved?"

lily laughs awkwardly, eyes scanning the room as she comes up with a lie, "babies, seems as though everyone in our year is pregnant." her eyes land on yours, confused by her own words.

at the confession, and lily's strange look at you, james follows her gaze, making you furrow your brows, "what?"

eyes wide he asks, "you?"

you scoff, mouth agape, "pregnant?"

he nods and you can't help the deep-bellied laugh that comes from you, "fuck no, you dimwit!"

both james and remus seem to breathe a sigh of relief, as lily groans.

"why on earth would you think it was her?" lily asks.

james shrugs, "don't look at me like that— it's the way you said it! right, moony?

"so no one in this room is pregnant?" remus asks, sarcastic.

lily rolls her eyes, "neither of you have any logical thinking skills," she turns her head to you, "and you," she pauses, rethinking her words, "i'm going to bed, and our conversation is far from over."

james turns his head from lily's retreating figure back to you, "what the hell is going on?"

you can't help the smack you give the back of his head, "stop meddling."

"rem? the hell is happening in m'own house?" james questions.

"why would i know, prongs?" he replies, eyes holding a glint of amusement.

james looks deadpan at the both of you before heading out of the kitchen, you assume to find lily.

"babies?" remus asks, causing you to look at him.

you sigh, a stupid grin on your face, "something like that."

he hums, reaching above you and grabbing a box of cookies. he gestures them to you, "want one?"

you smile, nodding.

the two of you down the box together, silently enjoying each other's company. he's wearing his glasses tonight, perhaps from the copious amounts of papers he's been looking over the last several hours.

you think back to what lily had said mere minutes ago, studying remus now for any sign of unsaid affection.

you come up short.

he's towering over you, just a reach away, and you want nothing more than to take his hands in your own.

"do you think you'll finish what you're writing while you're here?" you say, trying to drill the thought of affection out of your head.

remus shrugs, "possibly. i haven't had the easiest time sending things to my publisher recently," he inches closer to you, "i'm sure you understand, the curse of a writer— never thinking what you're working on is quite done yet."

you look up at him, aware of the way his arms are now trapping you under him, "i think we hold ourselves up to an impossible standard."

he hums, a smile on his lips, "yes, because when it happens, we want it to be perfect."

you can't help but stare at him. you want to kiss him, really kiss him. you want to pull him close and leave his lips red.

you can't seem to work up the courage.

there's an inflection in your voice, "that seems to be the trouble of perfectionists."

he nods in agreement, eyes scanning yours, "c'mere."

you furrow your brows, but let his hand find your own. he pulls you close to him, now tightly bound to him.

there's a pause from him, followed by his free hand finding your cheek, "tell me what you wrote about today, my dear."

your body feels like it's on fire, "i already told you."

he smirks, "only the general idea, that it had to do with me, or, us. what exactly about us?"

god, you really want to kiss him now.

"you, my best memories of you." you answer, holding tighter to his hand.

he chuckles, "that's sweet," he closes his eyes, "can i tell you a secret?"

you study his face, the redness of his cheeks, "yes."

his eyes open, and they hold a distinct softness, "i really want to kiss you."

you lean closer, a stupid smile on your face, "please."

and so he does. he places a small peck on your lips, drawing away for just a second before going back with more confidence. his hand leaves your cheek, finding a new home on your hip. he pulls you even closer.

"i've wanted to do this for so long," he breathes, pulling away.

you pull him back, "then don't stop."

he chuckles, "i'd kiss you until i couldn't breathe, my dear. but i'm afraid we're about to be walked in on."

with that, he's back away from you, box of cookies in hand and a smug look on his face.

it's sirius that walks through the kitchen door just seconds later, seemingly surprised by you and remus' presence.

"evening, writers." his voice is playful.

you give him a side eye, "sirius."

he purses his lips, "what's got you particularly glum?" he looks to remus, "and what's with your shit-eating grin?"

you steal a look at remus, who, has rosy cheeks to match his lips pulled together with a vibrant smirk, "goodnight."

you don't miss the inquisitive look sirius gives you as you walk out the door, but you'd rather run away and hide before he figured out what you and remus were up to.

you're quick to remember, however, your new bathroom arrangement. so despite your nerves, you slip into remus' room.

it's neat, put together in a way you're sure you could never obtain, and the bathroom looks equally as neat.

sighing, you hop into the shower. his water seems much hotter than your own, despite probably sharing the same water heater. you study his shampoo bottle, reading far too many long muggle words you've never heard of before. you take your time, letting the water relax you until you're reminiscent of a prune.

stepping out of the shower, you wipe the fog away from the mirror and stare at yourself. there's no more trace of remus' kiss— just the thought of it. and as you stand alone in his bathroom, towel draped around you, you question if it ever truly happened.

as you replay it in your mind, a soft knock comes from the door.

"it's me." remus alerts.

you scrunch your face, hating yourself for not thinking that you'd have to see him to leave the bathroom.

"i'm almost done, sorry." you call back.

you hear him chuckle, "you're fine, take your time. could i— come in?"

you nod your head, forgetting he can't see you. so when you open the door, he seems taken aback.

you stare up at him, "hi."

he smiles, "hello, my dear."

you're unsure of what to say, "what did you need?"

remus looks to be taking the scene in front of him in, "you," his hands find a home on your hips, "if that's alright with you?"

you nod, eyes fixated on his. with your permission, he lets his lips find yours for the second time tonight. and this time, he pulls you into an even bigger state of bliss.

his hands work from your hips down to your ass, groping through the thin towel. you make desperate pulls at his hair, liking the way it causes him to groan into your mouth.

when you pull away to leave sloppy kisses on his neck he chuckles, "you're going to be the death of me."

the words leave you achy and you can't help but to stifle a moan, "god, remus."

the way you call out his name is unfamiliar, so far off from how it usually sounds. you can tell it shocks him much more than it does you, however, as he groans, "it's criminal for my name to sound so good coming from your lips, my dear."

without a warning, he lifts you up onto the bathroom counter, finding his way between your legs. you sigh at the feeling of him between your heat. he makes a slow grind against you, and in the moment, you're sure you might let go right there.

his hand pulls your face up, forcing you to look at him, "you're a walking nightmare, you know?"

you don't respond, your own hands much more worried with undoing his trousers. you don't miss the way his head falls back at your touch.

he continues, breathy, "you're far too beautiful and it's caused me a great deal of trouble to hide it for so long."

you stare up at him, unabashedly taking him in, "please."

your voice sounds like a beg, you can't help it. you want him to touch you. you're sure you want all that he has to offer you. you want him.

there's a smirk on his face as he looks at you, before slipping off his button-down shirt and ridding himself of his trousers and boxers, you gasp at the newfound lack of fabric between you, head spinning.

he leans into you, leaving kisses down your neck to your collarbone, "'wanna make you feel good."

his free hand is making a painfully slow way to your core. you're about to beg for something, anything, when you feel him start to circle your clit.

you breathe out an, "oh, remus," and that seems to be the praise he was searching for. his movements stay slow but they do have enough power to make you begin to leave his fingers wet.

"what a pretty little mess i'm making you," he whispers, slipping a digit into you.

you're now fully blind with ecstasy, looking for more and more friction and calling his name repeatedly. your head is thrown back and all you can possibly think about is how much you want him buried inside of you.

you let your hand fall from his chest down to his abdomen, teasingly drooping lower and lower until you hear him let out a deep groan. you take him into your hand, movements slow.

his head falls limp into the crook of your neck, "fuck."

you enjoy your newfound control, taking your time to work him up.

he kisses behind your ear before whispering, "c'mere."

his hands are back on your hips, your towel now a heap on the ground, and pulls you closer to him. you hum at the feeling of his head at your entrance.

his lips are back to yours now, kissing you with an intense passion, inching further and further into you. he's stretching you out slowly, causing copious amounts of moans and shakey breaths to tumble out of your mouth.

"remus, i—" your words crumble at the sensation of him rutting into you fully, followed by a deep groan from him, "good girl, taking me so well." he soothes, slowly rocking into you.

with his words of praise, you take hold of his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as his pace picks up.

he feels of heaven, you surmise. with his rough kisses to your neck, jaw, and lips. he's all consuming and you can't seem to get enough.

at the feeling of him leaving you, you huff, only bearly able to contain your disappointment. you look up at him through your lashes, brain rotted with filthy thoughts, purely wanting him.

he chuckles, "don't whine, my dear. it's unbecoming."

he was playing a game now, testing you and teasing you. you enjoyed it, you enjoyed anything that came out of his mouth.

you pout, "come back."

his arms wrap around you, placing your feet back on the ground. you're thankful for his assistance, as you're not sure your now weak legs could withhold your own weight.

wordlessly he spins you around, arms hugging you from behind and a hand holding your face up so you can see the very sinful act you're partaking in.

"wan'you to watch, dear. can you do that for me?" his voice is barely above a whisper, but it rings loud in your ears.

you nod, biting your lip, anticipating.

he pushes into you, slow, taking time to watch your face contort and lips spew countless obscenities, "mhm that's a good girl. y'look so pretty, don't you?"

you can't respond, far too focused on the way he's pounding into you, quite animalistic now. his arms keep you close to him, never breaking the intimacy of the act.

your vision is hazy now, hard for you to see, but you can hear him. you hear the sound of him against you, the words and groans coming out of his mouth.

he must notice your far-off demeanor as he says, "let go, dove. wanna feel you let go."

he's relentless, fucking into you until you see stars, gritting out praises, and nipping at your neck. you're so close, and by the time you can sew the words together you interrupt them with your own moans of pleasure.

remus groans in your ear, picking up pace, "fucking good little girl, coming for me when i ask."

you feel his thrusts start to get sloppy and his head is thrown back, eyes screwed shut. truly it's a sight to behold. he's close now, fucking you through your own climax.

he takes his bottom lip into his teeth to stifle the sounds threatening to come out of his mouth as he lets go, leaving trails of white liquid down your back.

he's still holding onto you as he comes down, goofy grin on his face. you can't help but smile back.

"i am sorry about getting you dirty again." he breathes, eyes watching your own intently.

"s'ok." you reply, simply, a bit embarrassed at your previous behavior.

he chuckles, "let me clean you up. can you stand?"

you nod, a little unsure if you believe yourself, "i think."

his arms leave you, reaching into the cabinets for a washrag. he wets it, water warm, before removing his trace from you.

you watch him in the mirror, taking in his now messy hair and red lips. you like it when he looks back at you, giving you a wink, "suppose they're right?" he asks, smirk on his lips.

"who?" you ask, voice low.

he hums, wrapping his arms around you again, hugging you close to him, "sirius, marlene— everyone."

you try to understand what he's referring to, "about what?"

"about the way we are, as writers. i think marlene described it as passionate?" he muses, "it's just when she said it it made me think if maybe that's why i could never work up the courage to tell you how much i wanted you."

you smile, "because you wanted it to be perfect?"

he leaves a kiss to your jaw, "my metaphor didn't fall on deaf ears, hm?"

you giggle, "maybe they're right, yes. i assume it's only sensible that we'd be so hardheaded for so long all in the name of passion."

"mhm, well whatever it was, i'm glad we've overcome," he turns you to face him again, "because i am so tired of acting like i'm not in awe of you. every single bit of you."

his words seem to glaze you over, bringing to stupid smile to your face, "me too."

he kisses your temple, "spend the night?"

you hum, in agreement, and let him scoop you up before laying you down softly in his bed. you recognize the smell of gardenia and cedar, the scent of his colgne.

he slips into bed beside you, pulling you close to him again. you can feel his heartbeat against your back and the way his fingers are drawing circles on your hip.

"remus?" you ask.

"yes?"

you smile, although he can't see it, "i love every part of you."

"enlighten me, my dear." his words tickle your ear.

"it was you, every bit of you, that got me writing again. i couldn't seem to think of anything more interesting or beautiful than you and everything about you." you confess.

you feel him smile against you, "can i tell you a secret?"

"yes."

"i'm in love with you." he says it as if it's already known. the confession causing you to turn to him, hands finding his, "god, remus, me too."

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fangirlofbasicallyeverthing · 10 months

Text

afternoon confessions

pairings: remus lupin x reader

warnings: just some fluffy fluff

It was another lazy Sunday afternoon at Hogwarts. You sat near the lake, under a nice shady tree, rereading Pride and Prejudice. It was nice and peaceful, as the soft breeze blew through your hair.

“Hello, love.” you heard a soft voice behind you. Youn turned to find your boyfriend, Remus.

“Hi, darling” you smiled, patting the grass next to you, gesturing him to sit down.

Last night had been a full moon, which you can tell from the new gash on his face. You had watched from your dorm window as Sirius and James’ shadowy figures led Remus into the woods, far from others. You had begged to go with them, but they refused knowing that if Remus hurt you, he would never forgive himself.

Remus set himself down beside you, making himself comfortable by resting his head on your shoulder.

You pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, “How are you feeling?” you ask.

“Tired” he sighed, dropping his head on your shoulder.

He looked at you with his pretty chocolate brown eyes, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

“Read to me?”

“Of course,” you said smiling

You sat there together for the rest of the afternoon, enjoying the quiet and the peace that being together brought.

Remus fell asleep in your lap as you stroked his hair gently. You leaned down to press a soft kiss, just below his ear.

His eyes fluttered open, staring up at you as he brought a hand to your cheek.

“I love you” he whispered, quite and unsure of your reaction.

“I love you too, Remmy” you whispered back, giving him a small smile.

He pressed his lips to yours and in that moment, nothing else mattered because you were with your Remmy.

a/n: here's a baby oneshot that no one asked for. young remus lupin has consumed me.

#remus fluff #remus x reader #remus x y/n #remus x reader fluff #young remus imagine #young remus lupin #young remus x y/n #young remus x reader #imagines #harry potter #the maruaders #remus lupin #fluff story #fluff #y/n

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rosieandthethorns · 4 months

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i don't WANT to read smut right now

i WANT to read a passionate, poetic, jaw dropping, tears streaking down my face, heart wrenching, giggle inducing, feet kicking, cringy yet amazing, gorgeous story written by someone who apologizes for english not being their first language(they're the best writers ever) which has 4 chapters and then makes me scream because it hasnt been updated in months and the author is mia

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luveline · 8 months

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𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 —send me a shy!reader request for any character (with a plot) and I'll write a >1k drabble

sirius/james introducing shy!reader to remus. and shes just like quiet and in awe, but remus loves it.

luveline's 40k party ☆ tysm for requesting! remus x shy fem!reader

James is used to your personality after months of being your lecture neighbour, unperturbed by your quiet. "It's going to be fun," he promises, handing you a cold glass of cranberry vodka. "They're nice, okay? I won't let anyone irritate you."

He's hosting a party and had the generosity to invite you round early. He's easing you in, so to speak. It took him two weeks of steady Hellos for you to work up the courage to say Hi back, another two weeks for small talk, a month before you felt comfortable speaking to him first. If you're that shy, a party is basically torture.

"It's not about irritating me," you say.

"I know, I'm messing." James lists his head to the left. A second later, there's a knock at the door. "Aha. Wait here, shortcake, there's someone I want you to meet."

"James," you say after him, wet from your glass leaking down to your sleeve, "what?"

"I asked him to come early and say hello! He's quiet and handsome and you'll love him, just don't stare at his nose."

What's wrong with his nose? you think, alarmed.

James opens the door. Two new voices emerge, one scratchy and a little high, the other smoother. "I need to pee so bad," the scratchy one declares, followed by bounding footsteps up the stairs.

"You alright?" the smoother asks.

You think there's patting, a hug, "I'm brilliant! You smell really nice, Remus, like a garden."

"Lovely."

"In a good way! Come and meet my Y/N, you remember I told you about her nice gel pens?"

James leads the smooth-voiced Remus into the living room. You hurriedly put down your drink and stand, wiping your wet hands in your shirt. You cringe at the darkening fabric but hide your grimace as they stop in front of you.

"Remus, Y/N. Y/N, Remus," James introduces you both.

Remus has a scar across his nose that seems cruelly cut. There's another beside it that starts in his upper lip, both of which end in his eyebrow. You know how self-conscious it feels to be looked at, so you manage to smile and offer your hand without too much of it. He's handsome with his scars, a nice nose with a ridge and brown eyes the colour of caramelised sugar.

"Hello," Remus says, shaking your hand. His is big enough to make yours feel small.

"I invited her early because she's more fun than the rest of our lot," James says, throwing himself down on the sofa and kicking his legs out on the coffee table.

Remus taps your elbow very gently as if to usher you to sit and sits down beside you, enough space to be casual but too little to stop the rampant nerves that blossom in your stomach.

Remus asks about your life. What you're studying, where you're from, if James is being nice to you. While James is touchy in the rough older brother way, scrunching your shoulder and shaking you when you're not expecting it. Remus is touchy in a different way, you find, almost as if he doesn't know he's doing it. His shoe bumps your shoe, his hand falls down between his outer thigh and your own, his knuckles touching your jeans very lightly. He spins in his seat to talk to you.

You don't notice other people arriving, nor the scratchy-voiced friends return. All you can do is look up at Remus with wide eyes. Your nerves meld to something warmer.

"And what do you do?" you ask him.

He smiles like you've wandered into a secret. "I'm trying to write a book."

"He's being a bit much," Sirius says to James, the two now loitering in the doorway with matching beers. You and Remus chatter on, unaware of their running commentary.

"It's a very strong reaction. I knew she'd like him, but I didn't think she'd like him like that." James takes a sip of his drink. Remus asks you a quiet question. You duck your head, playing with your sleeves, and Remus, the bastard, ducks his head to follow your gaze, smiling at you all the while.

James almost chokes, pointing his bottle toward you both as though Sirius isn't already looking. "He's eating it up. I forgot how flirty he is."

"She'll be nice to him, won't she?" Sirius asks, like it's a done deal. To be fair, Remus seems enthralled with you.

"Definitely. She's very nice. Oh, look, that's sick, she's gonna pass out." James winces as Remus takes your arm into his hand.

Remus wouldn't do anything cruel, but James wasn't joking when he told Remus that you were exceedingly, achingly shy. He's about to step in and rescue you, but you turn into Remus' touch and pull your leg up on the sofa to make yourself comfortable. Your voice is animated, if quieter than the average person's.

"Woah," James says, beaming.

Remus flirts almost as a defence, like he wants to get the rejection over and done with so he can move on. You've yet to reject; you're looking up at him in moderate awe, your lips quirked into an easy smile.

"Boo!" James calls, flicking his bottle cap at Remus, who brushes it away. "Took me three weeks to get a smile out of her," he mutters. "What a dick."

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #marauders x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #the marauders #luveline's 40k party

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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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buckyandgeraltsupremacy · 6 months

Text

remus x shy!reader (part 2)

i'm a whore for slow burns and so this little mini series will be a slow burn

author: sj

warnings: fluff, full moon possessiveness, slow burn, reader is described as having longish hair and uses she/her prounouns

part one / part three / part four / part five

masterlist

---

this was your first full moon around remus since discovering he was a werewolf. you weren't nervous, just relieved you finally knew what was going on.

remus was terrified. everyone knew he got a little snappier when it came close to the full moon. he got wound tighter and tighter until happened and the last thing he wanted to do was snap at you.

you were 3 days away from the moon and you just finished with classes, following the boys to their common room to study with remus like normal.

you collapsed on the couch and remus fell into the cushion next to you. you both worked silently together for a while until you found remus significantly closer to you than he was before, your thigh pressed to his.

you weren't bothered by this, but remus was slowly combusting silently. he just felt this unexplained need to be touching you at all times. it started this morning when you were in class with him. your slytherin desk partner had his arm touching yours while you were both taking notes and remus thought he was going to lose. it.

at lunch he made sure he was next to you and that helped his need to be touching you. he usually started to ache before the full moons, but it seemed when you were close that he suddenly forgot about the pain and was only thinking about you. hence why he was trying to get closer to you while in the common room.

you sighed and put your books on the floor. you yawned and you slouched into the couch. remus studied you and noticed the tension you were carrying.

"lay down, bun. close your eyes for a while." remus said, patting his thigh. you nod and lay down your head on his thigh, hair cascading into his lap. remus felt his nerves start to calm and gently started running your hair through his fingers. he delicately plucked at your hair and fiddled with it.

about an hour later, sirius got restless and groaned dramatically on the floor.

"ughhhhh. i'm so bored. wake flea up so she can sneak to the kitchens with me and charm the elves." he said, rolling towards remus. remus stiffened.

"no. let her sleep. she's stressed and is actually resting right now. and if you wake her up, i will wait till you fall asleep tonight and find an insect to crawl into your ear and eat the little brains you have left." he said, it coming out a little more aggressive than remus intended, but feeling extremely protective of you.

the next day, all remus could think about was you. it was a saturday so he didn't expect to see you unless you wanted to come to the common room. and low and behold, you came through the portrait hole and came over to the boys with a small smile.

almost reflexively, remus' hands flew up to grab you as you passed, pulling you down almost on top of him as you passed. you gasped and giggled as you fell onto the couch next to remus, extending them over remus' sideways. remus sighed and pulled you into a hug and mumbled into your hair about how much he missed you.

"ew." peter mumurs.

"i had a theory that you would get possessive near the full moon and this is only proving me right." james says. your cheeks flush red and remus pulls back to look you in the eye.

"i just missed my bun is all. doesn't mean i'm some possessive alpha male." remus scoffs, looking towards the boys.

"your bun?! she's all of ours mate. not like you're dating the girl." sirius says, trying to get under remus' skin. remus' hands tighten around you, sirius' words already making remus' hypothetical hackles rise. remus, not wanting to admit sirius is right, just puts his head back to your shoulder and whispers, 'my bun'.

thus how you found out that remus gets a little possessive close to the full moon.

#remus lupin #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x reader fluff #remus x reader #remus x reader fluff #marauders x reader #marauders era #the marauders #marauders

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moonstruckme · 5 months

Note

James being a big bear of a boyfriend and always just like lifting u up so easily to hug and sit on his lap and even tho u hate when anyone else does it he’s so BEEFY that you’re fine with him doing it

Yessssss I'm not much of a physical touch person irl but James I would allow

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 847 words

Sirius is trying to follow Remus’ example and focus on the puzzle, but his eyes keep flitting up to you worriedly. You’ve monopolized the couch, laying flat with a hand cast over your eyes and your mouth pinched in obvious discomfort. He’d tried rubbing your calf and Remus had offered you tea, but they’d both given up when the attention only seemed to worsen your mood. Remus suggested they work on the puzzle while you rest (not Sirius’ favorite activity, but forced upon him because it keeps him quiet) and now they’re both simply trying not incur your wrath.

“Quit looking at me,” you growl without opening your eyes.

In Sirius’ case, not doing a very good job.

“Fine, sheesh,” he says, and you press your lips together like you’re restraining yourself from snapping at him.

You cringe when the door opens, every line of you pulling taut. James is all smiles as he tosses his gym bag to the floor with a heavy thump. “Hello, my loves!” His voice is a decibel short of booming, but it softens when he sees you on the couch. “Oh, sorry, is she napping?”

Remus shakes his head, lips pursed as he watches your hand tighten over your eyes. “Headache,” he explains quietly.

“Oh, I’m sorry lovie.” James reroutes from the kitchen, heading for you. Sirius tenses. “How bad is it?”

“Prongs,” Sirius whispers urgently, “don’t—”

But James has already lifted you, one hand under your knees and another supporting your back as he moves you smoothly from your chosen position of rest and into his lap. He makes it look like nothing, which is the first offense (Sirius isn’t sure which of you he’s more jealous of), but the second is that you let him. Sirius and Remus have both looked up in alarm, waiting for a biting protest that doesn’t come. Instead, you remove your hand from your face, burying in it James’ brawny shoulder instead.

“Bad,” you grumble, but your tone lacks the venom you’d spat at Sirius a moment before.

James coos like he’s got a kitten in his lap instead of a viper, bringing his considerable arms around you. His palm cups the back of your neck, kneading gently at the tensed muscles there. “Where does it hurt, darling?”

“Everywhere.”

“By your eyes?”

“No.”

He hums, brows furrowing as he works steadily at your neck. You’ve gone nearly lax in his arms, trusting him to hold you up as you slump against his front. “Have you been drinking water?”

“It’s not that.” Some of the irritation is back in your tone, Sirius notices, but it’s been markedly softened for James. “I had tons of water this morning.”

“Probably a tension headache then, yeah?” He looks to Remus, who nods. The quiet boy looks as dumbstruck as Sirius feels.

James moves his grip to your sides and lifts you again, rearranging his legs to get more comfortable before placing you back in his lap. He places a hand on each side of your head, thumbs pushing into your temples and rubbing in slow, soothing circles. You begin to look like you might fall asleep.

“This is so unfair,” Sirius hisses to Remus.

“He has a power,” Remus admits weakly, “which transcends understanding.”

“Do you want some tea?” James murmurs to you after a while. Sirius’ eyes have gotten stuck watching the movement of his forearms, and he snaps them reluctantly back up.

You hum, uncertain but definitely considering it. Behind you, Remus throws up his hands. James sees him and smiles, shoulders shaking with quiet laughter.

“I’m getting the sense this isn’t the first cup you’ve been offered,” he says, looking immensely entertained.

You sigh, but even that sounds pleasurable as his big thumbs drill diligently into your temples. “Yeah, but I just wanted to be left alone.”

Remus and Sirius exchange a look. You seem perfectly fine with company now.

“Don’t be silly,” James chides lightly, “a warm drink will make you feel better. Remus, love, would you be so kind as to make her a cup?”

“Sure.” His voice is gruff, but then you murmur a quiet thanks, Rem and Sirius actually sees the moment his heart turns to mush. “No problem,” he says, softer now.

“Attagirl.” James’ hand drops to give your shoulder a squeeze, his bicep flexing slightly with the movement. Christ, Sirius might have to fake a headache later, if this is the sort of treatment those receive. “Drink your tea and then we’ll get you to bed, yeah? You can sleep the rest of this off.”

“You know, I offered to carry her to bed earlier,” Sirius says, still slightly bitter, “and she told me very clearly to fuck off.”

You don’t sound so much exasperated now as exhausted. “Siri, when you carrying me doesn’t involve setting me down every five steps for a break, then we’ll talk.”

James’ laugh surprises both of you, and he apologizes hastily for jostling you, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before resuming his ministrations. You don’t seem all that upset about it.

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shaynawrites23 · 6 months

Text

Compliment

Remus Lupin x reader

Word count: 583

A/N: don't worry, the requests are coming too! just enjoy this in the meantime!

It was just a simple compliment.

You're wrapped in your boyfriend's arms, comfy and half dozing off as Remus tells you, at your own request, all about the latest book he's read. There's a blanket partially draped over the both of you, an incredibly soft, fluffy one he brought with him when you moved in together, and you're content. Happy.

At some point, Remus stops talking, having told you everything he could possibly think to say on the subject, and you fall into a comfortable silence. His warm hand runs gently up and down your arm, his lips press a soft kiss to your forehead, and as you snuggle just the tiniest bit closer to him, you feel him murmur the words before you hear them.

"You're so fuckin' pretty, my darlin'. Merlin, I love you so much."

It's just a simple compliment. An utterance of love. You know how he sees you, you know he makes sure to tell you how much you mean to him at least once a day, so why does this moment, why do these words affect you so much more?

It's just a simple compliment. Remus is understandably concerned at the hitch in your breath, the way you tense slightly in his hold, and the emotions swimming in your eyes when he tilts your chin up to catch your gaze. You hate how your heart skips a beat at his featherlight touch on your skin, how your mind whispers to you that this isn't real, that you're undeserving, that you could never be enough.

"Hey, dove, what's wrong?"

The first response he gets is no more than a shrug and a small sniffle. And then you speak in what may just be the tiniest voice he's ever heard.

"Don't know. You just... sounded like you really meant it." And I can't imagine why, is the part you don't say out loud.

Remus knows all too well what it's like to feel undeserving of love. Hell, he's had this reaction to you many a time, spent months even trying to chase you away, convince you he was no good for you, that you could do better. And the idea you might feel the same way about yourself all but breaks his heart.

"Oh, sweetheart. 'Course I meant it." He pulls you close again, into his warm embrace which is still the safest place you know, especially with the way one of his hands cradles the back of your head. "Of course I meant it. I always do, darlin'. Did I ever give you a reason to doubt it?"

"No," you sigh with a small shake of your head, fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt because above all, you still crave the comfort and intimacy only his touch can bring, and you both know you're telling the truth. "No, you didn't do anything. You're wonderful, it's just... hard to really believe sometimes."

Remus knows exactly how that feels. All he does is pull you in closer, hold you tighter to his body, as if he can shield you from those cruel thoughts and feelings.

" 's okay," he murmurs, a soft whisper into your hairline. "Try to believe it, dove, because I'm here to stay. And I'll prove it to you, over and over. Enough times until your mind and your heart realize nothing can take me from you."

And prove it, he did.

#shayna writes #remus lupin fic #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x reader fluff #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #remus x reader fluff #remus x you #remus x reader #remus x y/n #remus fluff #remus lupin fluff #remus fic #remus drabble #remus lupin blurb #remus blurb

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xxhispieceofheavenxx · 1 year

Note

pleaseee more naturally dominant remus 🤭

When I tell you this man will be the actual death of me asgsgdhdu he makes me so fucking soft. Remus I love you :(((( Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

Dominant Remus is always gentle, the kind of man that rearranges your clothes so they sit better or your hair so he can see your face properly, bringing your lips to his. He puts a hand on the small of your back to guide you forwards, always keeping himself on the outside of the sidewalk, where the traffic is. He's ready to kneel to tie your shoes, it doesn't matter where you are. He is the most gentle in the mornings, hugging you as soon as he sees you. He rests his head on your shoulder, his cheek rubbing against yours, his hand always has a way of finding your ass where he kneads it while pulling you closer to his body, fingers curling under, hooking themselves and grazing your most intimate area. He doesn't care who is around because you're his, and he gets to touch you and feel you however much he wants. Remus never realizes how dominant he is, but he loves how powerful it makes him feel when you respond to his touches and caresses. That despite everything, despite all the things he hates about himself, he has you to call his own.

#notsfw.sel #remus lupin #remus #remus x reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin smut #remus lupin x reader smut #remus x reader smut #remus lupin fluff #remus fluff #remus lupin x reader fluff #remus x reader fluff #marauders #marauders smut #marauders fluff

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mediocre-daydreams · 2 years

Text

𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞. 𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐦𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠

remus lupin x animagus!reader

𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚢, 𝚒 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠

summary: remus craves your touch and he knows you’d do anything for him, which is why he refuses to be with you. your affection spark nasty rumors from the slytherins.

notes: angst, fluff, a few slut shaming comments (will be expanded upon in later chapters), tw//the slug club :/

w/c: 5.7k

ﾟ⋆☾*･ﾟ.・。.*゜✭・･ﾟ✫・⋆。.

as if you were a mythical thing, like you were a trophy or a champion ring; if there was one prize, i'd cheat to win.

you and the girls had nice, established saturday mornings. dorcas, the natural early bird, woke up at seven without fail. lily, the overachiever, followed at seven thirty. mary began to stir around eight, and lily and dorcas would shake you and marlene awake no later than eight thirty.

you’d get ready together—you and marlene were always sluggish and slow in the mornings—and head down for breakfast around nine twenty. you always had a coffee, marlene and dorcas shared a pot of chamomile, lily liked earl grey, and mary liked experimenting with flavors. (she was currently enjoying matcha.)

marlene and dorcas would most likely sneak off somewhere, leaving you, lily, and mary to entertain yourselves. if the day was nice, you’d kill a few hours by the black lake. if the weather was poor, you’d get a head start on homework or wander the common room. you liked your saturday routine.

today was very different.

“mr. lupin is not taking visitors at this time, thank you very much,” madam promfrey quipped, sounding not at all apologetic. “please return at…” she checked her wristwatch. “this evening. preferably tomorrow afternoon.”

james batted his eyelashes. “c’mon, madam pomfrey. we’re regulars! you can’t make an exception for your favorite patients?”

madam pomfrey narrowed her eyes at him. “yes, because treating reckless quidditch players after every match is my favorite passtime.” she sighed, turning her head to hide how her lips quirked upwards. “fine, you may have ten- twenty minutes. but i’m being very generous, and reserve the right to kick you out at any time. alright?”

you and the marauders nodded enthusiastically. madam pomfrey waved you over to a curtain-covered bed, where remus’ hoarse grumbles could be heard.

“lukewarm water… can’t even read… so behind on potions… complete fool…”

“moony!” peter exclaimed, whipping away the curtain and jumping into a starfish-like position in front of remus, who jumped.

“pe- wormtail?” he stammered. “prongs? padfoot? hopper?”

“gee, don’t look so happy to see us. you might overexert yourself,” you teased, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. you took his hand, which was cold and beginning to crack from dryness. you frowned, glancing over at madam pomfrey, who looked busy shuffling through loose parchment.

“how are you?” james whispered. “after… y’know.”

remus snorted. “y’don’t have to whisper. pomfrey knows.”

“ah, forgot about that.” james scratched his jaw. “my question still stands, though. how y’feeling?”

“as well as one can feel after breaking most of their bones and transforming into a class five monster, i suppose.” remus licked his chapped lips. his undereyes were dark—an unusual sight—and his voice raspy from all the howling he’d done last night. he didn’t seem tired in the sleepy way; rather, worn down. “i’m just sick of this stupid bed. i’m fine. i’ve done this my whole life. i hate being here while everyone treats me like porcelain; like they pity me. and it’s boring.”

sirius furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “i don’t pity you, moony. in fact, i take great pleasure in kicking you when you’re already down. for example,” sirius cleared his throat dramatically, “let’s discuss last night, shall we?”

you glanced around the room. “muffliato,” you murmured. “yeah, we were right. i wouldn’t trust sirius with any secrets.”

sirius glared at you and returned to his story. “apparently, my kisses are not appreciated by a certain rabbit, but snot is fine? i see how it is.”

you looked at your feet. remus became defensive. “i do not have snot!”

james looked at sirius knowingly. “yes, you do. it was dripping out of your nose, mate. you fell asleep and i swear, there was a puddle of wet stuff underneath you. horrid, i tell you.” james pretended to shiver.

remus quickly changed the subject. “how’d you all leave in time?”

“peter,” you all chorused. you tilted your head towards the bashful boy. “again, peter’s the most responsible one when you’re not here. he bit us until we woke up and we snuck out before sunrise. you were already asleep then.”

“wait, so did you four get any sleep last night?”

james pursed his lips. “hopper did… and- and sirius power-napped?”

remus looked at you all disappointedly. peter jumped in. “in my defense, i was a rat surrounded by giants! excluding you, hopper. it’s not exactly easy to fall asleep knowing you could be accidentally trampled and killed!”

you pointed at peter in agreement. “see? see? nobody’s scared of you, moony. we’re scared of james’ nonexistent coordination.”

remus cracked a smile.

james was offended. “excuse me? you’re talking to the best chaser in gryffindor history, here! i’ve got a bloody plaque and everything!”

as peter and sirius laughed, you turned to remus and the two of you exchanged a quiet moment. “how are you, really?” you mouthed.

“‘m alright, i promise,” remus’ lips twitched before falling into a frown. he winced. it seemed as if the corners of his mouth were beginning to bleed.

you gasped. “merlin, you’re bleeding! let me get some salve or something, stay right there.”

remus chuckled. “i’m not going anywhere, don’t worry.”

you hurried over to madam pomfrey, practically sliding on the tiled floor in your frenzy. “madam pomfrey, do you have any salve? remus’ hands are all cracked and his lips are beginning to bleed,” you huffed.

madam pomfrey blinked at you and remained silent for a second, before shaking her head clear and digging through a messy medicine cabinet. she held up a small jar labelled “BALM” and placed it in your hand. “it’s my own recipe. very effective.”

you thanked her graciously, and as you rushed back to remus, you could feel her eyes on your back, almost like she was judging you.

“rem, you’re bleeding! did you not notice?” you gushed, unscrewing the “balm” and sticking two fingers into it, scoping out a generous amount of the thick paste and grabbing remus’ hand.

remus’ chest shook with laughter as he watched you fret over him with more care than he’d give to himself. you kneeled down beside him, laying his hand on top of his leg gently, so you could rub the salve into his broken skin.

“rem, i’m serious. why don’t-”

“no, i’m sirius,” sirius interjected, laughing at his own wit. peter chuckled weakly. james didn’t speak, too busy watching you and remus interact.

“-why don’t you take care of yourself more? look, your skin is all dry and cracked. do you have eczema?”

“what’s eczema?” james’ head perked up. “is it a disease? is it contagious?”

peter sighed. “no, it’s a skin condition. it’s when you have dry patches or rashes and no, james, it’s not contagious.”

james sighed in relief.

you and remus were still in your quiet bubble. “i dunno, hopper,” remus mumbled, his eyes fixed on your careful fingers as they moved across the palms of his hands in small swirls, like young, sprightly dancers across an old theater’s well-worn stage. “all the little stuff was kinda forgotten after… y’know. i got bitten. eczema was the least of my worries.” remus laughed dryly, coughing slightly from the effort.

“have you had water? remus, you’ve got to take better care of yourself,” you chided. there was a glass of water on the table beside him, and you adjusted the straw so remus could drink while lying down. remus waved your hand away, pushing himself up into a seated position, much to your disapproval. he looked you firmly in the eye as he took the straw out of the cup, and made a big show of drinking normally.

you bit back a smile at his stubbornness. remus smiled too, the corners of his mouth stretching and pulling too tightly. you placed your hands on remus’ cheeks, willing them into a loose position. going back for more balm, you rubbed your fingers together so the heat of your hands would melt the paste into something thin enough to spread.

“i- i’m going to touch your lips now, if that’s okay,” you breathed, suddenly hyperaware of your compromised position. you were eye level with his chest. “is this alright?” you murmured, sitting yourself on the edge of his bed once more and turning your torso in line with his. you were now eye level, so you could reach the skin on his face more easily.

“yeah, i- it’s okay,” remus dipped his head in affirmation, swallowing thickly. you watched, mesmerized, as his adam’s apple bobbed, and you had to tear your gaze away in favor of the salve on your hand.

“okay, just- um, sit still, please.” your finger was wobbly as it inched closer to remus’ face, and you prayed he wouldn’t notice. you found yourself leaning closer, your free hand coming up to cup his jaw; you felt the growing stubble scratch your palm. oh, how torturous it was to be so close to him, to run your fingers over the lips you’d desperately craved for three years, only to stop yourself from kissing him. he was hurt, and all you could think about was your unrealistic indulgences. you knew remus would never be so selfish.

remus had closed his eyes. you felt like you were taking advantage of him, in some way, by slowing down the movement of your fingers so you could take a couple more seconds to memorize his face. the cluster of freckles under his eyes, the little bump on his nose, the curve of his eyebrows that seemed to twitch with each of your touches, the scars across his cheek that you longed to touch and worship and love…

“okay! okay, i’m all done!” you blurted. you’d recoiled as soon as you found your thoughts drifting into dangerous territory. you smiled awkwardly at him. “sorry about that.” your face scrunched.

remus’ eyes seemed to bore into yours, like he knew what you were thinking. wordlessly, he smoothed out the anxious wrinkles on your face, a content calmness washing over his face as soon as he saw you untense. you prayed that he couldn’t feel your face burning up.

“you could give madam pomfrey a run for her money.” sirius broke the silence, making both you and remus jump.

peter glanced over his shoulder and found madam ponfrey deeply invested in her work. “it’s definitely been more than 20 minutes. y’reckon we should just stay until she kicks us out?”

“duh.” james rolled his eyes. “that way, evans won’t force me to do my homework.”

remus looked much better by monday. you would occasionally glance over at him, but only because you were worried about his dry skin. you’d convinced madam pomfrey to let you take the rest of the balm, and now you would force remus to apply it at least three times a day. he didn’t object, much to your surprise.

“can you drop it?” reamus threw an arm over his eyes as peter and james prattled on about the importance of stretching and peter’s father’s muggle pilates class that had done wonders for his flexibility. after seeing remus bedridden from a transformation, their concern and caring nature only multiplied.

“okay, but get this. muggles go to this person called a chiropractor, and they pay the chiropracter to break their bones!” james’ eyes were wide with wonder.

“no, james. they crack their bones,” peter corrected.

“i know! that’s wild, right? i think it could be good for you.” james patted remus on the shoulder. “if not, you should look into cupping therapy. it’s an asian practice; it’s worked for centuries! oh! oh! or, you could-”

remus groaned. “seriously, i’m fine. thanks, though.”

you sat on his bed beside him; the two of you preferred watching peter and james’ antics from a distance. you moved closer to remus, the mattress shifting under your weight.

“hey, i know you’re kind of sick of us worrying about you, but will you at least let me do the balm for you? it’s just that i-”

“yes, yes, please do.” remus interrupted. his eyes widened as if he hadn’t meant to say anything. “i mean, yes, that’s okay. i’m okay with that.”

you tried to hide your giddiness as you pulled the balm from the pocket of your robes (you’d taken to carrying it around wherever you went) and followed the routine you and remus had fallen into. he’d hold out his hand, you’d take it and apply the balm, and he’d squeeze your hand and you’d probably look up at him, all flustered, and he’d probably look down at you, all flustered, and you’d probably stay there for a moment before letting go of each others’ hands, all flustered.

you hated how much of an effect he had on you. you prided yourself on being collected and consistent and confident, but he seemed to shatter every one of your walls with just one look. and you hated yourself for never being able to stick around whenever he saw past one of your acts. when he’d ask you what was wrong, or if you were okay, or if you needed to talk, you’d always plaster this stupid smile on and brush him off.

but sometimes you weren’t okay. sometimes, your mind raced with thoughts of the war, and concerns about remus’ lycanthropy, and what would happen to him as not only a half-blood but a werewolf, and what would happen to you as a muggle born, and what would happen to the two of you if you ended up tog-

you didn’t want to burden remus with such things, so you didn’t. you didn’t want to burden anyone with such trivial worries, so you didn’t. that was something you liked about yourself: you cared about your friends enough to make sure they didn’t have to fall into your pits of distress because you never tied them down with anchors. you made sure that they could sail freely.

so there went the routine. you dropped remus’ hand and busied yourself with screwing the cap back on, and you could feel remus’ eyes on the crown of your head as you ducked down and tried to avoid his gaze.

“what’re you two up to now?” sirius leaned on the doorframe, taking in the scene before him.

“you’re back!” you jumped from remus’ bed and ran towards sirius, enveloping him into a big hug. sirius laughed, reciprocating. he lifted you from the ground and swayed you back and forth enthusiastically, much to your glee.

“i’m back!” he boomed. “good godric, i think i’d rather kiss my mother than take another detention with binns.”

“you’re back,” remus grumbled, suddenly sullen. peter and sirius exchanged the same knowing look that they had been for weeks now.

peter waggled his eyebrows at sirius, and james, for once, caught on. james stifled a laugh. “i never noticed, but you and padfoot look really good together,” he commented nonchalantly.

“yeah?” sirius raised a brow. “d’you think so, dove?” he lowered you to the ground and looked down at you questioningly.

“erm, what?” you smiled thinly. “like, as a couple?”

“yeah,” peter agreed, “i could totally see it. you’re both… uh…” peter struggled to find traits that the two of you had in common. you and sirius more so balanced each other out rather than complimented each other.

“you’re both beautiful!” janes shouted. “suuuper handsome. real lookers, you two.”

remus turned away from james and peter’s terrible matchmaking and settled for shuffling his feet back and forth on the floor. he tried not to tap; you always knew something was up when he tapped. he wasn’t in the mood to be interrogated.

“thanks, james.” you squinted. “are you guys okay? you’re being really weird.”

“all good!” james fumbled. “i just got excited about… the two of you, s’all.”

“oh, i know! you’re both really stubborn,” peter blurted.

you looked at sirius, confused. sirius shrugged.

“alright, you’ve officially lost it. sirius and i?” you wrinkled your nose at him.

sirius laughed in agreement. “we’d never work. i’m too ravishingly gorgeous and effortlessly charismatic for hopper. she’d blind herself trying to admire my radiance, and we don’t want that, do we?”

“for your information, sirius, i’m way out of your league. resort to your flowery language if you must, but i don’t need to prove my worth. it speaks for itself,” you humphed, sticking your chin up theatrically.

remus grinned, hiding it under his tilted face.

“alright, i’m officially done here. goodbye, marauders!” you called from over your shoulder as you scurried down the spiral staircase.

“goodbye marauder, singular!” james shouted after you.

peter looked at remus smugly. “y’good, moony? or is your skin acting up? should we apply some more balm for you?”

“yeah, y’look a little off, mate. s’everything alright?” james pitched in.

“i’m fine,” remus snapped.

“are you sure? you seem… upset,” sirius probed, inching closer.

“i’m not upset!” remus insisted. “i’m completely fine, see?” he lifted his head up and it was comically obvious that he was upset. his eyebrows were pinched and his cheeks slightly flushed.

“okay, okay! you’re not upset. would you say that you’re… jealous?” sirius grinned.

“i don’t know what you mean.”

“oh c’mon,” james whined, throwing himself backwards onto remus’ bed. “we all know you like her.”

“i- i don’t know who you’re talking about,” remus stammered.

peter clicked his tongue. “has anyone told you you’re a shit liar, moony?”

“oh, sod off, would’ya?”

“moony’s jealous! moony’s jealous!” james and sirius cheered, watching as remus’ ears began to turn red. “oooo, you so like her,” james teased.

“i do not!”

sirius shook his finger at remus. “aha! so there is a her!”

“no! i mean, i just-”

“mate, she obviously likes you back. she’s confessed her love to you at least twice now. i dunno what you’re doing, but whatever it is, stop.” peter crossed his arms, disappointed at his friend.

remus tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. “it doesn’t matter if she likes me back, i don’t want to be with her.”

“why?” james yelled, absolutely horrified.

“that makes no sense!” sirius gasped, baffled.

“you dimwit!” peter scoffed.

“because she’s… she’s her, and i’m me!” remus snarled, whipping his head around to face his three meddlesome friends. “don’t you understand? i’m- i’m going to spend the rest of my life trapped by this damn condition and she’s been through one transformation with me and- and do you see how much she’s been struggling? she’s not been sleeping or eating properly; she’s constantly chasing me and she won’t let me bloody help her. i just know she’d spend the rest of her life trying to fix me but i can’t be fixed and i won’t let her waste her life tied down by someone like me!”

the marauders were silent.

“what do you mean, ‘someone like you?’” sirius croaked.

remus exhaled shakily. “a monster, sirius. she deserves so much more than a monster.”

monday potions with the slytherins was surprisingly your favorite class. you were good at potions, and as long as you sat near the front, you wouldn’t have to deal with the nastier specimens. today was no exception. you and lily—the two of you were almost always partners—were all the way up front, and early as well.

there were still a few minutes until class started and slughorn had not yet arrived. you and lily were sifting through your satchels for quills and parchment while you chatted.

“so where were you last saturday?” lily smoothed out her parchment with concentration.

“uh, mo- remus had a cold, so i went to check on him,” you lied smoothly.

“oh, remus had a cold, now did he?” lily didn’t look at you, but you could hear the teasing in her voice.

“yes, remus had a cold. and being the considerate and polite friend that i am, i went to check on him,” you stated plainly.

lily hummed questioningly. “let’s say i believe you—in terms of the friend bit, i mean. why haven’t i seen you all weekend? surely, you haven’t been sleeping over in the hospital wing. and you don’t seem very sick to me.”

“i-” you coughed. “i’ve been… busy.”

it was a flimsy lie, and you both knew it. lily sighed, tutting at your secretive behavior. “alright then, whatever you say. now, i have to fill you in on-”

“look, there’s two of ‘em!” mulciber’s crass voice interrupted you and lily’s peaceful conversation.

you rolled your eyes, resigning yourself to lining up your quill and parchment so they were perfectly parallel.

“the prude and the slut!” somebody laughed, their identity lost underneath the layer of chittering students who began to flood into the classroom.

you looked over at lily, examining her reaction. her eyebrows, thin and straight, twitched noticably. you watched as she pursed her lips momentarily before pulling them into a strained smile. “like i was saying, i’ve got to fill you in on mary’s minstrations at lunch.”

you smiled warmly at her. lily wore her heart on her sleeve unabashedly, and you were always better at hiding your feelings. that’s why people flocked to you for comfort, you assumed.

“hello, lovely ladies!” sirius suavely sat behind you, resting his elbows on the desk and propping his head up. “what a beautiful morning it is, but not quite as beautiful as you two,” he flirted.

you pinched his cheek. “hey, gorgeous,” you purred, looking him up and down. “i could say the same to you.”

remus slid into the seat beside sirius, smiling stiffly at you and raising his hand in greeting.

“oh! hi, remus!” you were caught off guard and your voice was pitched higher than normal. you cleared your throat. “i mean, hi.”

remus looked around nervously. “yeah. hi.”

“GOOD MORNING!” slughorn boomed, somehow even more passionate than usual. there were a few murmurs of “good morning” and other halfhearted greetings, though slughorn wasn’t at all put off by the lack of enthusiasm.

“is it just me, or has he lost it?” you heard james whisper to peter from beside you.

“has he ever had it?” peter rebuked, making you chuckle under your breath. lily looked over at you questioningly. you waved it off.

“as you all know, your o.w.l.s. are coming up, which is why the rest of our classes this year will be dedicated to content review.”

the class groaned.

“however!” slughorn beamed. “this year’s examinations will focus primarily on brewing and less on history, which means i will be making all essays worth a quarter less.

“instead, we will be focusing on more challenging in-class potions in partners. now, i understand that you’ve all been allowed to choose partners in the past; however, to ensure that your brewing capabilities are not dependent on a certain partner,” slughorn looked at avery and crouch in the back, “i will be randomly assigning different partners for each class.

“today, we will be brewing the wit-sharpening potion—godric knows some of you need it,” slughorn muttered, “and these will be the pairs:

“evans and pettigrew, potter and crouch…” james’ head fell to his hands in defeat.

“longbottom and mckinnon, y/n and snape…”

the four marauders and whipped their heads to you in mortification. lily saw their expressions and rolled her eyes. she patted your arm reassuringly. “aw, sev’s not so bad. he’s great at potions; you’ll be such a fantastic team!”

you smiled painfully at lily, nodding along. “yeah, i bet. thanks, lily.”

“…let’s get moving, folks! the group with the best potion will be exempt from the 3 page essay for homework.”

your eyes widened. you really wanted that exemption.

“severus!” you called out meekly. “hey, it’s good to see you… again.” the last time you’d seen snape was when he’d come looking for lily only to walk in on a conversation which mainly consisted of you airing out your distaste for the boy.

“do not call me severus.”

“a- alright then!” you tried your best to be optimistic. “shall i get the ingredients, or would you like to?”

“i’ll get them,” snape scowled. he dropped his voice to a bitter hiss.“i can’t deal with another incompetant muggle-born messing things up.”

you raised your eyebrows but remained silent. there was a time and place for picking fights, and it would do no good to sacrifice your potions grade over some carbon copy blood supremacist. plus, a bad grade would only fuel the misconception that muggle-borns were less capable.

snape returned, handling the ingredients like they were precious. “you can boil the water.” snape didn’t spare you a glance before beginning to cut up the ginger root. his cuts were slow and measuredd; snape sat back and examined his work smugly. when you glanced over at his handiwork, you scoffed.

“it doesn’t matter how carefully you cut the ginger,” you sighed in disapproval, “if the pieces aren’t even.” you held up the two slices he’d cut, holding them in the air next to each other. “see, this one has a bump, which probably adds two or three grams. just because they’re the same length doesn’t mean they’re the same volume.”

snape narrowed his eyes at you. “do you really think i would’ve missed that? you’re not better than me. keep your little comments to yourself.”

you glared at him. “sure. why don’t you run and grab a scale, snape, and we’ll inspect your work.”

you were right: snape had cut the ginger pieces unevenly. you didn’t bother rubbing it in, knowing that just being proven wrong was a blow to his ego enough.

snape dropped the trimmed pieces into the cauldron and the two of you admired the nice green that the potion changed to. snape, who liked to remain emotionless, seemed to be surprised. you cheered internally. last class, slughorn had told snape his potion coloration was slightly dull. if it hadn’t been for your advice, this potion would’ve ended up the same way.

“armadillo bile,” you read off from the blackboard. “you can do that, if you want. i’ll prepare the scarab beetles.”

snape agreed, much to your surprise. you could hear snide comments from the back of the room emerge and snape’s willing compliance.

“taking orders from a mudblood, is he?”

“he’s such a humiliation.”

“dear salazar, bella would throw a fit if she was here.”

you paid them no mind. in fact, you found yourself enjoying the slytherins’ belittling of snape. they truly were gryffindor’s opposites; no loyalty to their follow housemates.

grinding the scarab beetles turned out to be an effective stress reliever. you fell into a comfortable rhythm with old mortar and pestle, almost missing the look remus flashed at you.

you caught his eye before he could look away, and remus mouthed, “how’s it going?”

you gave him an exaggerated look of distress in response. he covered his mouth, but you watched as his eyes turned into little crescent moons, indicating his laughter. you bit back a smile.

“quit whoring around with the half-blood,” snape spat. he eyed the powdered beetle shells disdainfully, and snatched the mortar from your hands. “merlin, you’re useless.”

you let snape sprinkle in the powder and from the corner of your eye, watched as he added more armadillo bile. you were reoccupied with watching the back of remus’ head as he bent over his steaming cauldron. remus waved a hand in front of his face to fan the steam from his eyes. his partner, mary, was giggling. their hands brushed as they both reached for more ginger root, and you found yourself tensing up.

“since you’re so particular about it, why don’t you cut up the rest of the ginger?” snape jeered, sliding the knife towards your side of the desk. you barely looked up before you began to cut. you could feel snape’s watchful gaze boring holes into your hands as he searched for any reason to ridicule you, but your hands were steady. you were confident in your potion-making abilities, and it showed.

“here,” you held out four nearly identical slices of ginger root to snape, and he picked them up from your palms delicately as if the slightest touch or brush over your skin would burn him like acid.

the potion turned a pale, buttery yellow. focused, deliberate clockwise spins of snape’s wand began to reveal a pigmented buttercup color. you tapped snape’s shoulder and he recoiled, but allowed you to take over the mixing. a couple more stirs and you were left with a rich ochre potion, which had reached a consistent temperature without much bubbling.

“this is wonderful; truly fantastic work!” slughorn commended, clapping his hands together. “you should be very proud of yourselves.” in your potion-brewing haze, you hadn’t realized that slughorn had already reviewed most of the class’ potions. james and barty crouch sat in front of a cauldron that seemed to be hissing, while frank and marlene high fived each other, satisfied with their average outcome.

“you may be dismissed! the two of you,” slughorn waved at you and snape, “please stay back. and miss evans, i’d like to speak to you as well. you’re not in trouble, don’t worry,” he chortled.

lily hurried to your side, taking your hand and squeezing it reassuringly. she seemed pleased to see snape and smiled at him kindly. snape nodded his head in response, his oily hair falling from where it’d been tucked behind his ear. he pushed it out of his face bashfully.

“as fifth year students, i’d like to invite you to what i call ‘the slug club.’ it’s named after me, see?” slughorn pointed at himself jovially. “i invite the most promising fifth, sixth, and seventh year students, and i’d like you all to attend. the three of you have demonstrated incredible ability in my classroom.

“now, i’m hosting the first slug club event of the year this sunday at eight in the spare room across from my office. it’s an important meeting; you’ll introduce yourselves and get to know each other. dinner will be served as well, so there’s no excuses! i expect to see you all there.” slughorn patted his belly happily and made his way back to his desk, excusing the three of you as he squeezed through the rows of tables.

lily was sprightly as she manuevered easily through the desks. you patted your satchel, making sure you’d packed everything up. snape, who was always in a rush to get out of the classroom, lingered.

you paid him no mind as you buttoned everything up and tightened your straps, slinging your bag over your shoulder. it clanked as it hit corners and sides of tables—fifth year textbooks were much thicker and heavier than the years before.

you could feel snape’s gloomy presence behind you, trailing along like the stubborn smell of smoke. he was going down the same row of tables you were, most likely to bother you. he was so close that you could feel his sticky breath on your neck; he smelled of salty sardines and wilted cabbage. you shuddered.

snape cleared his throat ostentatiously, and before you could move aside like any decent person would do, he shoved past you proudly. his bag, heavy laden with textbooks and other snape-y evil contraptions, hit your hip. the bag bounced off of your body and flapped open—he’d forgotten to fasten it—and out fell a small book. it thudded on the ground, but somehow, snape didn’t seem to notice. you didn’t think much of it; you weren’t inclined to chase him down and return it.

curious, you slipped it into your bag for further investigation.

the marauders were waiting for you outside the classroom. “what was that, thumper?” james slung an arm around your shoulder, leaning his body weight on you until your knees buckled. the two of you wobbled before james grabbed onto remus’ forearm and grounded himself.

“slughorn invited me to ‘the slug club. it’s for promising students,” you sneered mockingly. “please, what’s so promising about me? i’ve got a couple major felonies under my belt that i’ve yet to be prosecuted for?”

sirius laughed. “godric, i love you. where’ve you been all my life?”

“in the library, with remus.” you snuck a glance at the tall, brown haired boy to find him smiling down at you, eyes darting across your face.

“ugh, you two are so infuriating.” peter kicked his satchel, which had been lying on the ground, in annoyance.

“what?”

“why?”

“because,” peter droned, as if it was obvious, “you’re so perfect for each other. the two of you must be the smartest, stupidest blokes i’ve ever met.”

“that’s quite the oxymoron,” remus noted.

“see?” peter pointed. “proves my point!”

“i don’t understand why you haven’t just ki-”

lily saved you from a very awkward conversation. “y/n, babe!” she skipped towards you, elated. “you’re going to slughorn’s event, right? sev promised to be my date, and i think you should find someone too. it’ll be a blast!”

james sputtered. “sev? what the bloody hell is ‘sev?’”

lily stared at him judgememntally. “…severus? sev, severus?”

sirius’ jaw dropped. “your date is snivellus?”

lily scowled. “how many times have i told you not to call him that? he’s not so bad—babe, tell them! he was nice during potions today, right?”

you stretched your lips into a thin, pained smile. “yeah, he was… civil.” you thought that was a bit too generous.

“see?” lily sighed happily. “i don’t understand why you can’t give him a chance. he’s very nice once you get to know him, i promise.”

you nodded slowly, unconvinced. you looked at remus, who looked at james and sirius, who looked completely outraged.

“evans, please, don’t go with him. hey- hey! you could go with me! mcgonagall told me slughorn invited me too, during transfiguration. ditch snivellus, we’d have a much better time together,” james winked.

lily wrinkled her nose. “you’re rancid, potter.” she turned to you and her expression softened. “bye, y/n. see you later!”

“wait,” james paused, “you don’t have a date, right? will you be my date to slughorn’s… thing? pleaaaase, thumper?”

you grabbed james by the shoulders (which was admittedly a bit difficult, because he was much taller than you) and shook him. “no need to beg, prongs. i’m all yours.”

remus began tapping his foot.

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