A rainy day: A pale, oversized sweater with embroidered flowers and vines on the collar of the button down underneath. Hair frizzy with the humidity, wrestled into a messy bun or left in a puffy cloud. Loose, comfortable tartan pants or skirt. Doc Martens or some other combat boots that can splash through puddles. Long trench coat. A dramatically oversized black umbrella, preferably with some sort of fancy handle.
Strolling through sunny streets: A jewel colored tank top or bralette under an oversized white button down, left unbuttoned and loose. High waisted tan shorts or cigarette pants with brown leather shoes. Hair is loose and overgrown after the cold months of not cutting it. Gold jewelry wrapped around fingers and throat in the shapes of arching branches, thick with flowers and thorns. A baker boy hat to keep loose hair pushed back.
The birds are singing: Flowing white linen skirt or pants. A billowy shirt or sweater in pale colors with ballooning sleeves. A silk bandana over the hair to keep it from fluttering, ticklish against the face. Or perhaps one of the first flowers tucked carefully behind one ear; it slips every so often, but every time fingers brush against it something light and airy ignites in the chest.
Not ready for summer: Making one last use of winter fashion before the heat forces it back into the closet. A black turtleneck and plaid skirt, but now without a heavy overcoat or warm leggings. Leather boots now used for splashing through puddles instead of snow piles. Dark green sweaters and skirts are getting worn especially, as they match both the new plants springing from between cobblestones and the evergreen trees that never left. Dramatic lipstick, red like freshly crushed fruit.
Perfect weather to pretend to be an archeologist: Something in all tan and white. A light brown sweater vest over a white cotton shirt with the sleeves pushed up haphazardly. Tan, high waisted palazzo or midi pants. Rich brown leather belt with a gold buckle that matches the comfortable shoes perfectly. Egyptian coins fashioned into earrings. Golden round glasses that keep slipping over the nose, only to be pushed back up again.
Picnic time: A loose, flowing midi dress with puff sleeves and a delicate floral print. Brown leather lace up boots. Hair in a long braid or up in a French twist, the comb covered in jeweled flowers or perhaps skulls. Rings on almost every finger, each one placed deliberately with an affirmation spoken softly on the lips: this one to protect, this one to offer insight, this one to help me remember. A picnic basket in one hand, worn leather satchel around the other shoulder filled with study materials to enjoy as deeply as the fresh fruit.
A rainy day: A pale, oversized sweater with embroidered flowers and vines on the collar of the button down underneath. Hair frizzy with the humidity, wrestled into a messy bun or left in a puffy cloud. Loose, comfortable tartan pants or skirt. Doc Martens or some other combat boots that can splash through puddles. Long trench coat. A dramatically oversized black umbrella, preferably with some sort of fancy handle.
Strolling through sunny streets: A jewel colored tank top or bralette under an oversized white button down, left unbuttoned and loose. High waisted tan shorts or cigarette pants with brown leather shoes. Hair is loose and overgrown after the cold months of not cutting it. Gold jewelry wrapped around fingers and throat in the shapes of arching branches, thick with flowers and thorns. A baker boy hat to keep loose hair pushed back.
The birds are singing: Flowing white linen skirt or pants. A billowy shirt or sweater in pale colors with ballooning sleeves. A silk bandana over the hair to keep it from fluttering, ticklish against the face. Or perhaps one of the first flowers tucked carefully behind one ear; it slips every so often, but every time fingers brush against it something light and airy ignites in the chest.
Not ready for summer: Making one last use of winter fashion before the heat forces it back into the closet. A black turtleneck and plaid skirt, but now without a heavy overcoat or warm leggings. Leather boots now used for splashing through puddles instead of snow piles. Dark green sweaters and skirts are getting worn especially, as they match both the new plants springing from between cobblestones and the evergreen trees that never left. Dramatic lipstick, red like freshly crushed fruit.
Perfect weather to pretend to be an archeologist: Something in all tan and white. A light brown sweater vest over a white cotton shirt with the sleeves pushed up haphazardly. Tan, high waisted palazzo or midi pants. Rich brown leather belt with a gold buckle that matches the comfortable shoes perfectly. Egyptian coins fashioned into earrings. Golden round glasses that keep slipping over the nose, only to be pushed back up again.
Picnic time: A loose, flowing midi dress with puff sleeves and a delicate floral print. Brown leather lace up boots. Hair in a long braid or up in a French twist, the comb covered in jeweled flowers or perhaps skulls. Rings on almost every finger, each one placed deliberately with an affirmation spoken softly on the lips: this one to protect, this one to offer insight, this one to help me remember. A picnic basket in one hand, worn leather satchel around the other shoulder filled with study materials to enjoy as deeply as the fresh fruit.
anyone wanna recommend just some angsty marauder or mcu one shots pls- i’m rly in the mood for that hurt comfort and perhaps even like when one person has to ask someone else out on a dare and they get all heartbroken UGH IT J HURTS SO GOOD
summary: You know about your boyfriends lycanthropy and you love him regardless, but sometimes the words he speaks on the days leading up to the full moon still hurt. A lot.
word count: 1.1kish
contains: angst, troubles with self-worth, ending is left up to interpretation
a/n: the reader has trouble with self-worth in this and I would just like to say that your feelings and self-worth should NEVER EVER rely on the words of others, especially those of your loved ones. I know how hard it is to hear people, who say they love you, ridicule you, and say things that make you feel like shit. And its like - you know they don’t mean to hurt you, but it doesn't change how much pain you feel. I’ve been there (and sometimes I still go there) and while it is a big process filled with tears, cutting people off, arguments defending yourself, and just a lot a lot a lot of self-acceptance, it is possible to stop letting them get to you. YOU are the only validation you need. I love you for who you are and you should love yourself for who you are. My messages are always open, loves <3
He messed up.
And he knew he messed up, but his own mind was working against him and at that moment his rational mind couldn’t overpower the anger that had been building up all day.
Always his enemy, he wanted to blame the lycanthropy, but his rational mind knew that this was all his fault. You have been nothing but loving and understanding about everything when it came to his condition. Night after night you had sat there, taking his screaming and yelling, trying to calm him down, never leaving an argument with unresolved issues, but tonight he watched himself jump over the line that you had pushed back for his time and time again.
Remus stood in the now-empty tower, the sounds of your fading footsteps running down the stairs, each step another ache in his chest. The anger in his mind was screaming at your retreating footsteps. Words of detest, saying that you hated him. That you gave up on him. That you thought he was a monster just like everyone else. But the rational part of his mind sat in the back of his head screaming the truth over all the other noise and he knows he can’t blame you for this. He knows this is his fault. And somehow that idea just made him even angrier.
Angry at his lycanthropy.
Angry at the world.
Angry at everyone else.
But most of all, he was angry at himself, because he never wanted to hurt you.
Because he doesn't know what he would do without you. Losing you would be the worst thing that could ever happen to him. It would be like ripping all the pieces of his human heart straight out of his chest, leaving only the animalistic urges that show themselves once a month. Without you he might as well never transform back, find a way to stay a werewolf forever.
Suddenly Remus’ senses pick up on footsteps, coming up the stairs this time. He knew whose steps those belonged to, so when James opened the door to the West Tower, Remus was not surprised. Breathlessly, from running up all those stairs, James said “what…. the fuck …. is happening ….up …. here?” taking a breath in between each couple of words.
Running his scarred fingers through his hair, Remus turned to look at his sweaty friend. “I fucked up. I fucked up big time.” He began pacing, the events becoming clearer and more realistic in his mind with each word, “With y/n, I fucked up big time.”
· · · ∞ · · ·
“HE SAID WHAT?” screamed Marlene, now pacing around your shared dorm room, “I’m going to kill that lanky-ass son-of-a-bitch.”
“Marls, please,” Lily spoke softly after glancing at your tired expression. Heartache tends to wear a person out.
The redhead sat down beside you at the edge of your bed, running her hand up and down your back, allowing you to relax a little more. Whispering in your ear so the others didn’t hear, she spoke, “listen, just wait until Tuesday, after the full moon once he’s all cooled down, and then talk to him, ok?”
You nodded at her words even though they barely entered your mind, your head already racing with thoughts you couldn’t bring yourself to say out loud. Lily soon ushered you to sleep, the exhaustion evident in your eyes.
But you couldn’t fall asleep. Questions floating around as your brain sprinted marathons in your head, trying to answer them, and coming up with nothing. Could you ever trust Remus again? How do you know that the next time you fight he won’t say those words again? Did he mean them? Or was it his lycanthropy? How much of these arguments can you even blame on his lycanthropy? And when does it become his fault? You can’t use his lycanthropy as an excuse for everything, but you also don’t want to use it against him….
Did he mean them? That was the question your mind kept circling back around to. Did he mean them? Are your worst fears and deepest insecurities true? Are you good enough? If the person who has told you they’re in love with you, time and time again, doesn’t think so, then how are you supposed to?
Tossing and turning, you woke up, no less tired than the night before. It took effort to get dressed that morning, almost wanting to stay in bed all day, but knowing you couldn’t. Marlene, Lily, and Mary persuaded you to breakfast in the Great Hall. You avoided Remus, in fact, you avoided all of the Marauders. Their presence, only a reminders of your bleeding heart. Remus seemed to be giving you space and, for that, you were grateful. But just the mere sight of him sent you back to your bedroom where you spent the rest of the day, claiming illness to your professors.
· · · ∞ · · ·
It was 3am, you assumed, as you got out of bed. In only your pajamas you quietly made your way through the halls without interruption. Your feet leading you to the top of the astronomy tower where you stared at the sky.
The full moon. Your voice quivered above a whisper as you cast a small silencing spell before allowing sobs to begin escaping your mouth. You thought about Remus as you stared into the moon. Hearing his howls in the distance, you couldn’t help yourself from asking the stars to keep a watch over him.
· · · ∞ · · ·
They found you passed out in the astronomy tower, Lily and Mary, your tear-stained cheeks and dark circles made your previous actions evident. Your roommates came searching for you as soon as they woke up to find your bed empty.
Mary insisted on taking you to the infirmary. Lily, as the only other girl who knew about Remus’ lycanthropy, tried to stop it, but Mary wasn’t hearing it.
Your body began to wake up, your consciousness returning to you slowly, allowing yourself to regain feeling in your fingers and your toes before attempting to open your eyes.
You’ve been in the infirmary plenty of times to visit Remus, but you’ve never been in one of the beds before. You don’t even remember how you got here. Sorting through your memories you last remember being in the astronomy tower staring at… the moon. It was the full moon last night, which means -
“Hey.” He spoke softly. You could feel his eyes staring into your figure. Remus was so surprised when he woke up in the infirmary, the night after one of his worst full moons, to see you two beds over. Your skin lacked its normal shine and tears still stained your beautiful lips. His heart ached over knowing that it was he who caused them. He knows that James said to give you some time, but seeing you here like this, he had to let you know how sorry he was.
You turn to face him, your eyes locking almost instantly, “hey.”
His eyes bore into yours, an expression of complete love, sorrow, and vulnerability filled every inch of them and as he spoke the words, “I’m sorry,” you knew they were true.
lol i was so confused on how to end this and every ending I wrote felt wrong so I'm just gonna leave it up to your imaginations, sorry
summary: You know about your boyfriends lycanthropy and you love him regardless, but sometimes the words he speaks on the days leading up to the full moon still hurt. A lot.
word count: 1.1k
contains: angst, troubles with self-worth, mean remus (but like he doesn't want to be he just cant help it), slight mention of blood, (no happy ending but im making a part 2)
a/n: this scenario has been roaming around in my head for a while so im gunna write it. also i don’t proof read lol sorry besties. also italics mean flashback
part 2
You had messed up.
A small slip-up. Normally it wouldn’t be that big of a deal, but Remus was on edge. It was the night before the full moon and his emotions were fragile, very easily annoyed.
You were pulling a prank with the marauders, something you’ve been doing more and more often since you started dating Remus and you loved it.
The joy of seeing people's annoying faces, the thrill of trying not to get caught, the nights you and Remus had spent locked in hallway closets to avoid Filch.
You’ve told each other so many secrets in those moments. Just the two of you together in the dark, pushed up against one another, breaths intertwining, whispered confessions, and soft giggles. It was in one of those moments where Remus told you about his lycanthropy, you can remember the event so clearly in your mind...
You could tell that something was wrong with him. It had been for a week or two now, there was something he wanted to tell you and he was holding it in. So when you finally got him alone in a hiding spot that the two of you would probably have to spend the night in, you opened up the dialogue. “Okay,” you whispered, peering up at his face as you sat across from him, your legs locked together due to the lack of space, “What’s been bugging you?” His response was only a hum of confusion, looking up from his hands to your face. You raised your eyebrow at him, silently saying “don’t play with me.”
He groaned and looked back at his hands, fiddling with his fingers and avoiding the conversation, “s’nothing.” He was nervous, anxious, you could tell and all you wanted to do was help. Remus had been such a kind and caring boyfriend for you and you just wanted to be the same for him. So you reached out and grabbed his hands with yours, causing his eyes to look back up at yours.
“What’s wrong, hun” your voice seemed to soothe him as his shoulders shrugged slightly.
“I have something to tell you, but I’m worried you may not like me after it.”
You give him a small smile, “there is nothing you can say that will change how I feel about you Remus Lupin, I love you, you know that?” His only response was another grumble as he moved his eyes to focus on your intermingling hands. “How about this,” you spoke again, an idea coming into your head, “I’ll tell you something really deep and vulnerable about myself. Something I’m scared to tell you.” he looked back up at you, “and then if you feel comfortable after that to tell me whatever's going on in that big brain of yours, then you can.”
“Are you sure?” he said, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it before, his eyes staring into yours with the love and admiration that you hope your eyes replicate.
“I trust you, Remus,” you lean forward to peck his lips, “and I love you.”
You went on to tell him your biggest insecurities. How when you were young you were constantly verbally abused and told that you weren’t good enough. You told him about how you’ve been working so hard to build up your confidence, a task he unknowingly has made such a large impact in that process, but that even though you’re getting better some days are worse than others. Healing isn't linear and you know that, but some days you spend staring out the window questioning your worth and wondering if you're good enough. You make so many mistakes all the time, small things that don’t matter to anyone else but make you feel like a shit person. You spilled your heart out to this man and he spilled his out back.
The two of you accepted each other unconditionally and your love only grew stronger after that night, which is why it hurt you so much when he began attacking your insecurities out of anger over a small mistake. You can’t even remember what you did wrong, but there stood your boyfriend in front of you, screaming at you with a wave of anger you’ve never heard before. “You’re so fucking stupid y/n! Merlin, you can’t do anything right can you!”
Tears were already spilling down your face, your eyes burning with each droplet. “You don’t mean that!” you spoke, “please don’t say things like that they really hurt,” you took a cautious step forward, hands outstretched in surrender. You’ve gotten into arguments with Remus like this before, his lycanthropy insistent on ruining your relationship, but you’re stubborn and you love Remus more than anything so you insist on never leaving an argument like this - unresolved and in pain. “Rem, baby,” you kept your tone soft but you couldn’t help the cracking in it from the tears, “I know you’re only saying these kinds of things because the moon is tomorrow, just please take a deep breath and c-” you took another small step forward, but he wouldn't let you get to him.
His long fingers tugged on his hair as he took a step away from you, “don’t you fucking blame this on me!” he screamed, “don’t blame my lycanthropy on your inability to do anything right.” You let your hands fall to your sides and begin backing up eager to leave the situation, you love Remus but his words are cutting too deep right now for you to stand here and take them. He couldn’t stop his words even if he tried, once they started coming they didn’t stop. “Merlin, you’re so fucking dumb, I don’t even know why we invited you to help out on such a big prank! I knew you’d ruin it!”
It was like he took a knife straight to your heart.
The heart whose gates opened up just for him.
The heart whose walls he broke down piece by piece.
The heart he’s held in his hand and lulled to sleep.
The heart he’s kissed and cuddled and laughed with.
The heart that you now felt bleeding all over the West Tower floor.
You wouldn’t be surprised if you looked down and saw a puddle of blood surrounding your feet at that moment, but you didn’t care to look. Your back finally hitting the stone wall you spoke once more, “Fuck you Lupin,” a venomous tone laced with the tears of heartbreak.
Those were the last words he heard you speak before you slammed the door shut behind you, leaving him to his own thoughts and regrets.
Marlene McKinnon has been your rival since as far back in your Hogwarts years as you can remember.
Always at each other’s heads.
Always a competition between the two of you.
Always striving to be better than the other.
The two of you made just about everything a competition. Chess Matches. Pranking. Grades. Eating. Walking. Detentions (you almost got kicked out of Hogwarts that year.)
Anything that could somehow be made competitive, you two competed. And while you tended to beat her with grades, she often beat you in things that took place outside of the classroom.
The Marauders, apparently, have been placing bets and keeping track of your wins against one another. Lily even claims that one time she walked into their room unexpectedly and caught them writing on a poster on their wall that had both your names in big letters on each side and a series of tallies below each with dates and event names on the bottom, but as soon as they saw her one of them casted a spell to make it disappear.
This year was no different. You knew it was stupid to believe that maybe, just maybe, you’d be able to try out for the quidditch team without Marlene fighting you for the same spot. You have no real desire to be on the quidditch team, quite honestly, but your older siblings play quidditch, your parents played quidditch, your aunts, your uncles, your cousins, your grandparents, your great-grandparents.
You have a quidditch family and you do not want to can not disappoint them.
The hope that Marlene may leave you alone for this one was shattered, as you expected it to be, when you walk into the team's locker room, a bag of quidditch gear in your hand. “Y/L” Marlene spoke as soon as her eyes met yours. Her eyes widened more than usual, a change most people don’t notice, but then again, you’re not most people. You know Marlene better than anyone else, you’ve memorized the meaning of every look in her eyes, every curve of her lips, every flick of her hands. You know her brain, how she works, what she is thinking, for the most part at least because right now you found yourself momentarily confused by the surprise lacing her voice. Why is she so surprised? Did she not expect you to be there? Your thoughts are cut short when the blonde standing at the other side of the room clears her throat in an attempt to reactive her favorite tone of voice when speaking to you, cockiness, “you going for the beater position too?”
“Yea,” you respond, walking over to one of the lockers.
“May the best player win,” you continued unpacking your bag, putting on the final touches to your uniform, but you didn’t need to look at her to know that she was smirking as she spoke, you could hear it clear enough in her voice.
She awaited a snarky response from you, you know that, but you didn’t want to waste your energy on a catfight right now. Your anxiety is already through the roof, there is enough pressure on you at the moment that you feel like your brain physically cannot handle any more conflict, so you ignore her.
Her eyes burn holes into your body as you continue to pull your knee pads on. Eventually, the door opens and you listen to her steps as she walks out of the locker room, closing the door with a slam and leaving you all alone.
It’s not long before you’re 100% ready for tryouts. You stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror for a moment before leaving. Taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm your nerves. Calm your mind. It helps a little bit, but maybe not enough.
· · · ∞ · · ·
“Y/L! Watch out!” is the last thing you hear before everything goes black.
The tryouts were going great, James was the captain this year and after stealing a glance at his little sheet, you could tell that you were going to beat Marlene out for this spot.
You should’ve been happier with that knowledge than you were, but somewhere deep down you almost wanted Marlene to beat you. This wasn't what you wanted and by the look in her eyes, you knew that this was what she wanted. A strange feeling arose in your chest each time she looked at you during tryouts, her eyes conveyed a message you hadn’t seen her wear yet and all you wanted to do was decode it. To understand why her eyes looked… sad? Almost. Like she knew you were going to beat her and she was upset about it. She’s never been upset before, always a team player. She took her losses as they came and just vowed to beat you next time. But for some reason… for some reason this was different.
· · · ∞ · · ·
Marlene’s Pov:
You looked so pretty. Flyaway hairs and a look of determination on your face as you swatted away Bludgers so effortlessly. She loved quidditch, but she wasn't as good as you. Jealous, not because you’ll win whatever competition the two of you are probably making out of this, but jealous because she knows she won’t get the position she’s been working her ass off for. Lost in thought she doesn't even notice the bludger coming towards her, luckily she hits it just in time, but then… Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Marlene watched as the bludger tumbled straight towards you, “Y/L! Watch out,” was all she could get in before it hit you right in the head.
· · · ∞ · · ·
The first thing you felt when you woke up was an intense pounding in your skill that caused an unconscious groan to leave your mouth. As you increasingly became aware your head began hurting more and more. You went to bring your hand up to rub your eyes in an attempt to wake yourself up when you felt another hand on yours. Opening your eyes only increased your headache, but the desire to know whose hand was holding yours overruled the pain. Their hand was soft, warm, it felt like … like home. That's the only word you could find in this pain-forsaken state to properly describe the feeling.
The blur of a person who held your hand made you think you were crazy. You found yourself blinking a few times in attempts to clear your vision, not initially trusting your eyes and barely trusting them now as you see Marlene McKinnon's hand, holding yours.
Marlene McKinnon.
Your arch-nemesis?
The one who practically hates you?
Yea… her.
What the fuck.
Why is she holding your hand… and why do you never want her to let go?
You can feel your lips curve up into an unconscious smile as you stare at the place where her hand connects with yours before roaming your eyes up to her figure to her sleeping face being held up by her other hand, elbow resting on her armchair next to your bed. She looks so peaceful, so beautiful, and you wonder why you’ve never noticed how gorgeous she was before. How her lips look so soft and her skin so smooth. The way the waning gibbous moonlight shines into the room from the large infirmary windows and lights her face up in a way you’ve never seen in before and in that moment you want nothing more than to stare at her face like that forever. You don’t even notice your other hand moving up to touch her face until you hear a voice whisper from a few beds over from yours. “Oh, you’re up.” Startled, you feel like you were just caught committing a crime and immediately pull your hand back to where it was before. Marlene shifts in her sleep from your quick movements and you’re watching this moment slip through your fingers, silently begging whatever runs the universe to let you stay in this moment just a little bit longer. Thankfully, they answer and Marlene stills, returning to her peaceful sleep. “Don’t worry, Lils says she sleeps like a log.”
You giggle at these words, turning to face Remus with a smile, “yea, she does. We can never get her up in the morning.” “It’s the same with Sirius. He never wants to wake up.” The two of you giggle quietly, afraid to wake up anyone in the castle this late at night, especially the girl sitting beside you. You talk about Remus first, asking if the full moon the night before was really that bad that Pomfrey made him stay overnight again and if he's okay. He assures you that he is fine and redirects the conversation to you, “What about you? Are you okay?”
“I don’t even know what happened to me,” you tell him, “or why my head hurts so much or why M-” you pause, now looking at the girl. You’re scared of speaking the words out loud, afraid it may reveal that her presence is only a dream or a figment of your imagination and that you will sound crazy if you speak about it.
“Or why Marlene is here, holding your hand.” Remus finishes your sentence.
“Or that.” you turn your gaze back to Remus, now wishing the moon was a little darker so your close friend can’t see the blush that is surely on your face.
“Well to answer your first questions,” started Remus, “You got hit with a bludger during tryouts, Marlene and Sirius rushed u in here while I was taking a nap - thanks for that by the way”
“Sorry” you giggled
“- and then Sirius went back to practice, as for McKinnon there, she refused to leave. I think she feels bad cause she's the one that hit you. Pomfrey said you probably have a concussion which means you can’t … well you can’t play quidditch this year.” You should be focusing on the quidditch part, it was something you were working so hard for, but you can’t stop your mind from trailing off to her. Is she only here because she feels bad? Or is there more to it? You hope it's more. You’re not sure when these feelings came to fruition, but they’re there now and you’re worried about getting your hopes up because it means risking yourself getting let down.
“I think she likes you,” you take a minute to process the werewolves' words, glancing between the blonde’s head and her hand.
“You think so?” you say with a hopeful smile.
“I think she’s liked you since first year and you’re just too oblivious to realize it,” you look up with him, your confused face causing a slight chuckle to leave his lips, “I’m observant, you know that but it's not that difficult to see how in love you two are, even though you act like you hate each other. I think she knows what she feels,” you both glanced at the girl, “and I think you just figured out what you feel.”
You smile at his words. “I think you’re right,” you admit, too tired to be stubborn and reject what your heart says is a fact.
“Just wait till January to tell everyone please, I have a bet going with the boys and- “ Suddenly the door to the infirmary opens, Remus goes quiet with confusion and Marlen begins to stir from the noise. She’s really waking up this time, you immediately close your eyes, unsure of what else to do or even say to her. You can feel her eyes on your face, her hand holding yours. “Good morning sleepyhead,” remarked Remus. You curse out his name in your head as you feel Marlene’s hand immediately rip out of yours. All you want to do is look at her face, read her mind. Was she embarrassed? Ashamed? Your mind went to the worst.
“How’s the girlfriend?” marked a new voice, Sirius. Of course. Who else would come to the infirmary this late other than Sirius to check up on Remus?
“She’s not my girlfriend.” remarked Marlene, her tone sending a brief stab of pain through your own heart, “I don’t even like her,” another stab.
“Yea, okay, and Moonys not my werewolf boyfriend.” You would’ve laughed, hearing the noises of Remus hitting Sirius in response to his words, but your mind was stuck on the words of the girl who was still standing close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off her body.
“I don’t like her,” she said, her words laced with annoyance and anger, “In fact, I hate her. We’re literally enemies.”
“Then why are you here then?” Remus rebutted, he probably meant to be helpful, but the words she spoke next only made your heart ache more.
“Because I’m not a monster! I hit her with the bludger and I felt bad. That’s it. Nothing else.” you were almost thankful when you started to hear her moving around, collecting her stuff, tears were threatening to spill out of your eyes and you didn’t want her to see. “I’m tired so I’m going, goodbye.” And with that you waited, listening to the sounds of her footsteps, getting quieter with each moment. You listened to the opening and closing of the infirmary door and only dared to open your eyes again once you could no longer hear the clicking of her shoes down the hallway.
“You okay?” Remus spoke first, witnessing the silent tears now streaming down your face. You wish you stayed asleep. You wish you never looked at her. Never let yourself feel something you knew she wouldn’t reciprocate. You curse yourself for believing Remus’ hopeful words.
“Fine,” you spoke quietly before turning to your side, the back facing the two boys who get to share the kind of romance you find yourself only able to dream about.
“M’Sorry,” you heard Remus whisper, before the weight of your head and your heart lulled you into a dreamless sleep.
· · · ∞ · · ·
You woke up to Madam Pomfrey's voice urging you awake. Her soft voice reminded you of your mother and made you want to curl up into her arms and cry, Marlene's words last night still resting their weight on your chest. “How are you this morning, love?” she asks, placing a plate of food on the bedside table, you're thankful that she doesn't mention the tear stains that probably made their home on your cheeks last night.
“M’fine,” you mumble, “better.”
“Good, good,” she smiles, handing you a glass of water that you didn’t realize how much you needed until the whole glass was gone in a minute and Madam Pomfrey had to fetch you a new one. “Took a big hit yesterday, that Miss McKinnon has a good arm.” You hum in agreeance, an attempt to not be rude to the elder in front of you, but hearing her name still hurts, the wound of her words still leaving scars on your heart that haven’t even begun to scab. “Speaking of the devil,” the nurse spoke, your head raising up to see Marlene's figure entering the curtain that surrounded your bed. Her hair looked so soft, messier than you usually see it, but you liked it. You couldn’t stop your eyes from travelling down her face, taking in her beauty while she was awake. Bags plagued her beautiful brown eyes, she didn't sleep much last night. Your gaze moved to her lips, the same lips that unknowingly cut scars along your heart mere hours ago. Memories from the night before that you had allowed yourself to forget for a moment returned as fast as they left, returning the heartache that accompanies them. Suddenly, you found the hem of your shirt more interesting, keeping your gaze and your hands on that. “I’ll leave you two alone,” spoke Madam Pomfrey, ignoring the tension-filled silence that laid in the air, “I’d like to keep you here for a little while longer but you should be discharged by dinner,” and with that she left the two of you alone, your breaking heart not even strong enough to look at her.
“Hey,” she spoke first, breaking the silence, but not moving from her spot where she stood at the end of your bed. “Sorry I hit you with a bludger,” she tried to joke, but the tension was too thick that it was just awkward.
“Why are you here?” you ask, a sudden surge of bravery coming from the anger that stems from your sadness.
“Wh-What?”
“Why are you here?” “Because I feel bad? Because I'm not a total bitch and I care about you?” she remarks.
“Why do you care?” your voice grows louder, angrier than you want it, but you’re too stubborn to stop speaking now. “I can’t play anymore, you got the spot on the team, didn’t you? “I mean you said it yourself we’re enemies, right? You hate me?” you continue, repeating her words from last night. “So isn’t this what you wanted? You won. You beat me. Congratulations.”
“So you were eavesdropping?” she asks, her tone attempting to stay angry, but her eyes revealing that look you’re slowly seeing more and more often.
“It’s not eavesdropping if I’m lying right there.”
“Merlin, y/n, I don’t hate you!”
“Liar.”
“You’re so stubborn,” she yells, getting closer to your face.
“If you don’t hate me then why would you say it?” You sat up, both your voices were raising, anger surging through the air.
“Because I don’t hate you! I love you,” she yelled, and then everything went quiet. She loves me? Only now did you realize how close your faces were. Her lips were inches from yours, your ragged breaths intermingled with one another, both of you already exhausted from your previous argument. You looked up from her lips to her eyes, just to find them already staring into yours.
“You what?” you whispered so low that only she could hear it.
“ I-” her eyes were filled with fear. Fear that her feelings won’t be reciprocated. Fear to express the vulnerable emotion that has plagued her heart for how long? You don’t know. So you move forward and capture her lips in yours.
After the initial surprise, Marlene began to kiss you back, her hands finding the back of your neck and your head while yours found her hips. You broke apart too soon for your liking and she rested her forehead on yours. One of your hands moved to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear before speaking. “I love you too.” You watched as her eyes lit up with joy and you couldn’t help but smile. “I get a point on the leaderboard for admitting it first,” she chuckled.
“Mmhm,” you hummed in agreeance leaning forward again so your lips brushed against hers as you spoke, “but I get one for kissing you first.”
“Dammit,” she whispered, before leaning in for another kiss.
· · · ∞ · · ·
“So Gryffindor Beater, huh?” you asked Marlene. The two of you laid together in the infirmary bed, her back pressed up against half of your chest, your arm hanging around her shoulder twirling and untwirling her hair with your one hand while both her hands played with the fingers of your other.
“Yea, James said it’s mine if I want it, but I don’t need to take it if you don’t want me to.”
“No, merlin no,” you said quickly, “I know how much you want that spot, I barely even wanted it. Was only doing it because with my family I felt like I had to.”
“Really?” She looked up at you hopefully, “you don't mind.”
“Nope.” “Promise?”
“Promise.” She gave her a peck on the lips before turning her head around again. “Plus, you’re going to look so hot in that uniform, I feel like I’ll be the real winner in this situation.” Your words earn a loud laugh from the girl in your arms and you feel like you're on cloud 9. You place a quick kiss on her temple and want nothing more than to be the one to make her laugh for the rest of your lives. Lives that you hopefully get to spend together.
Meanwhile…
“Told you so,” he whispered.
“I should’ve kept my mouth shut,” the second boy groaned, placing coins into the other boy's outstretched hand.
“Yea, but look how cute they are, Moony the Matchmaker.”
“Oh shut up Padfoot,” he groaned, “I’m hungry, let's go to dinner.” “Whatever you say handsome,” barked the boy before looping arms with his lover and walking away from the two girls in the infirmary who looked utterly and completely infatuated with one another.
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