Mistletoe | R.Lupin x reader
| harrypotter x aunt!reader | remuslupin x fem!reader | golden trio era |
Synopsis: after the death of your brother, you take in your nephew as your own, shutting everyone else out in your grief. However, once you’re reunited with an old friend in Harry’s third year, old feelings start to come to the surface as you help each other through your grief.
WARNINGS: mentions of dea!h, mentions of grief. (In this story, let’s say Voldemorts curse bounced off Harry and killed moldy voldy for good, Harry has a normal childhood)
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“Thank you, for standing with me.” You say, watching as the train leaves the station for the fourth time since your nephew had been accepted into Hogwarts. “It’s always so hard watching him go.”
“It’s no problem at all, you know that.” Remus told you, placing a tentative hand on your arm as you play with your hands worriedly.
It was the same overwhelming anxiety year after year, watching the only family you have left, the only part of James you have left, slip further and further away into the distance.
You and your brother were inseparable, known quite rarely as James and y/n, but more commonly as the Potter Twins. It was a rare occurrence to see one of you without the other, especially at school.
You weren’t with him when he died. No, you were in your own house, washing dishes by hand, because you were to bored to do it by magic. You weren’t with him, but you felt it. Like a knife through the chest, you felt the part of your soul that belonged to him fracture into a million pieces. Your heart that matched his break and turn cold as the glass you held fell to the floor.
You knew part of yourself had died, but not which part.
Not until you reached the Potter’s house.
Not until you found yourself screaming until your throat was raw, begging your brother to wake up.
When you finally heard the crying of a baby over your own sobs, you knew you had to take him before Dumbledore got his hands on him, taking him away from you forever.
“Hello, little one, Auntie y/n’s going to keep you safe.” You whispered, your voice only a fracture of what it used to be.
You tried not to look towards the lifeless form of what used to be one of your greatest friends.
You raised Harry as if he was your own, teaching him everyday about the parents he lost, because you would be damned if James Potter would ever be forgotten.
“I know it’s not, but still, thank you.” You tell him, before turning your head to look into his kind eyes. “You can come over, if you like? Despite what Harry might have told you, I’m a good cook.”
“That would be nice.” Remus chucked, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.
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Sitting with Remus at your kitchen table, you started to realise just how much you had missed him.
“I let him keep the map, last year.” He told you, a small grin tugging at his lips as he sipped his tea.
“Remus Lupin, despite the years that have passed you still have some mischief in you.” You tease, sipping your own coffee.
“Well, once a marauder, always a marauder. Isn’t that what we all used to say?” He retorted, and you genuinely smile.
A rare sighting since the passing of your brother, a sight only Harry has known.
You reach over and take his calloused hand in yours, brushing your thumb over a scar that lay there.
“I’m so sorry that I pushed you away, I never meant-“
“No, no, none of that. I won’t have you apologising for the way you chose to grieve. You lost your brother, and took on the responsibility of raising his child all in a matter of hours. I wasn’t what you needed then, and I understood that completely.”
That’s something about Remus that you had always loved. No matter how wronged he was, he had always found it within himself to understand. No matter how much somebody hurt him, his empathy would always shine through.
“What about what you needed? You lost everybody, and I shut you out.” You said, your confession leaves with shame and regret. He held your hand tighter.
“What I needed was to know that you and Harry were safe. And I knew that. I managed my grief in my own ways, but I managed nonetheless.”
Something else about Remus that you loved, was the way he held eye contact when he spoke. As if people would stop hearing him if he looked away. His eyes held onto yours now, sending secret messages of reassurance that he can’t speak with words.
He smiled, picking up his tea once more to take a sip. You wondered if he had had somebody to hold all this time, if somebody had been there to hold his hand as his world fell apart around him.
As you look at him, you remember the small school crush you used to have on him while at Hogwarts. The way you used to purposely sit next to him in the great hall so he’d have to lean down to talk to you, since he was so tall.
“You know, I’m pretty sure I had a bit of a crush on you in school.” You say, smiling down at you drink. He scoffs in amusement.
“Me? Why on earth would you have a crush on me?” He said, as if the idea was absolutely preposterous.
“Because you were always so kind. No matter how angry you were, you never spoke to me with anything other than kindness. And you’re tall, Godric knows that makes any girl fold,” you laugh. “And I thought you were pretty.”
“Pretty?” He looks scared to ask, as if the answer would somehow sting.
“Yeah, I’ve always thought your beauty was more soft than other boys,” you look into his eyes, seeing the same boy you loved in your school years. “The other girls would always tell me how gorgeous Sirius was, and he was, but I was always too busy staring at you to notice.”
Maybe it was the fact that you finally had a soul your own age to talk to. Or maybe it was the familiarity of talking to an old friend, someone you once spent every waking moment with. But you told him everything, about how lonely you’ve been, about how awful you feel about hating Harry’s similarities to James, about how much you love Harry and how it hurts to not be by his side at all times.
And he listens to every word.
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Remus came over almost everyday until Harry was due to come home for Christmas.
He laughed with you, held you while you cried, and grieved with you. The way the two of you should have done all those years ago.
It felt as if the twelve years you were eleven years you were apart never happened.
“Auntie y/n! Over here!” Your nephew called, carrying his case for the holidays with him.
“Harry! Oh, I’ve missed you!” You say, placing your hands on his cheeks and kissing the crown of his head.
“It’s only been a couple of months.” He says, smiling at your antics,
“I know, I know, but you know I have no one to fret over while you’re away.”
Harry hugs you, the kind of hug he knows you need once you see him again.
Harry knows his Aunt struggles to be away from him, he also knows that she thinks he doesn’t know. But since a young age Harry has noticed the way he Aunt always hugs him tighter in the mornings, as if being away in her dreams was far too long, and how she always holds his hand while out and about, and how she sends weekly letter just to check he’s doing alright.
And he replies to every single one, because while others would see it as suffocating, Harry feels nothing to affection and gratitude towards his aunt, because he may be all she had, but she’s all he has in return. And if a letter a week soothes her mind, he has no quarrels in doing that.
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Harry was beyond happy that Remus would be spending Christmas with them. To him, Remus was an extension of his Father, one more person he could ask to tell him stories and memories of the man he never truly met.
You would always tell him anything he wanted to know, but deep down you knew that he knew it pained you. And so he doesn’t ask much of you, but you wish he did.
“Did he get into trouble at school? My dad?” He asked at the dinner table, casting looks toward Remus and you.
You let a laugh slip past your lips, and you hold your hand to your mouth.
“Harry, your father invented trouble.” Remus told him, smiling fondly at the memories.
“Oh, come one. You talk as if you weren’t a step behind him at all times! More often than not, if my brother was in trouble, so were we!” You laughed, for the first time remembering your brother with joy rather than grief.
“And you talk as if you weren’t the mastermind behind most of that mischief.” He says, casting you a look of teasing and humour.
You gasp in faux shock, clasping your chest and looking towards your nephew.
“Absolutely false, Harry. I was no trouble in school.”
Harry laughed then, “Professor McGonagall says otherwise.”
You stop and snap your attention to your Nephew as Remus laughs, no longer able to eat.
“What?” You say, a little panicked, mostly laughing.
Harry watches as his Aunt and who he now sees as an Uncle playfully bicker and argue about who was more trouble to who, and wonders when they’ll realise just how in love they are.
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You’re clearing the table after Christmas dinner, stacking plates into piles and wrapping left overs in foil. Harry had retreated to his room to tend to his new quidditch set before the traditional Christmas movie night before bed, and y/n took it as a great opportunity to clear up.
A hand touched the small of her back, moving her slightly to the left as he squeezed by, taking the plates from her hands.
“You don’t need to do that, I’ve got it.” He says softly, sending her a small wink before carrying them over to the sink.
“Let me do something then, because you did most of the cooking and now you won’t let me clean.” You complained, not a single trace of discontent in your voice.
He turns to you, humour in his eyes but a frown on his lips.
“And what if I want to do all of this, then what?”
“Then you’ll just have to deal with me helping.” You say, stepping closer. You’re standing in front of him now, holding a cup full of cutlery in one hand and a plate of leftovers in the other. “Mr Lupin, I believe you’re blocking my way to the fridge.”
“Oh am I? Thats a shame, I guess I’ll have to take these off your hands then.” He says, taking the plate and cutlery and placing them on the side.
You’re about to argue when he turns back to you, much closer than before. “Let me help you.”
“You’ve done more than enough.” You say in a small voice.
“And what if I want to do more?” His hand reaches up and places a strand of your dark hair behind your ear, but his hand doesn’t fall, it stays put against your cheek.
You look up to see a branch of mistletoe growing from your ceiling, right between the two of you.
His eyes never leave your face, more accurately your lips as your breathing gets heavier.
“Can I kiss you?” He asks, his voice so small you barely hear it. All you can do is nod as his other hand is placed ever so gently on your waist, pulling you in.
He places his lips on yours, and it’s the most gentle kiss, but you feel the weight of a thousand words that have never been said behind it, pushing him closer.
To Remus’ surprise, it was you who intensified the kiss, placing a hand behind his head and pushing further into him. When you broke apart to breathe, he placed his forehead onto yours and closed his eyes.
“I think I’ve loved you for a while now, Miss Potter.”
“I’ve loved you always, Mr Lupin.”
What neither of the two seemed to notice, was their nephew sitting at the top of his stairs tucking his wand back into his pocket, closing the book about growing magical plants with spells.
