@jeggyverses-jegulus-microfic - 30. Mine - word count: 577
cw: toxic romance/mutual obsession, slight NSFW
“There you are,” came James's voice from around the corner. He and Sirius had just gotten into a fight; Regulus had heard the shouting match it had turned into. It's something that has been happening more and more ever since James and Regulus started seeing each other, not that Sirius knows — or anyone else really for that matter. The two of them have just been spending a lot more time with each other and in order to do so in secret they had needed to cancel some plans and disappear every now and then. They never told their friends the reason why and for Sirius, someone who has gotten used to spending almost every minute with his friends, being left behind or out must feel a lot like how he must have felt while he still lived in Grimmauld Place — Regulus doesn't care. He can be selfish too. And aren't some fights worth getting into if that means you can get to be with what's yours sooner?
“Here I am,” Regulus responds as he leans back on the steps of the stairs, his Astronomy textbook laid open in his lap. James smiles down at him before he moves to capture the younger man's lips. A grin overtakes both of their faces, Regulus nods up at the stairway behind him and James takes Regulus's hands in his and leads them up the stairs into a small, almost hidden classroom. The room doesn't get used much anymore, so James and Regulus come up here a lot during their disappearances. The place has only one large window which gives a picturesque panorama of the school grounds and the Forbidden Forest.
It may be small, filled with dust and spiderwebs, and drafty, but it's theirs and no one will take that away.
The moment the door closes behind them, James has Regulus pinned against it. He loves having Regulus in his arms, knowing that only he gets to see the way Regulus's cold composure breaks and instead shows the side of him that longs for love. And James can show him that love. He can show him care and compassion. He can show him how he should be adored, should be held, should be kissed. James is the only one who can show Regulus how he is supposed to be loved. No one else. Regulus is his.
His hands make their way towards Regulus's collar, undoing the buttons of his pristine uniform. His mouth makes its way from Regulus’s mouth to his neck all while he whispers the younger man's name in between kisses.
Regulus loves the way he makes James lose control. He rolls his hips against James's leg that has been placed between his own and delights in how James's groan vibrates against his throat. He loves how James always comes to him. Loves knowing the arguments James has left unfinished just to find him, the way James looks for every opportunity to ditch his friends just to be with him — only him. He loves the way he consumes James's every thought; during classes, during their breaks, when he's with his friends — it's always him. He may have known Sirius longer, but Regulus is the one James looks for now. James is his.
They pull their shirts off over their heads and look into each other's eyes. They see their own thoughts reflected back and know there's nothing left of them that doesn't already belong to the other.
@wolfstarmicrofic - 8. Ghost AU - word count: 2631
might have gotten a bit carried away with this one - AO3
cw: mcd, referenced suicide, (graphic) descriptions of injury/car crash, panic attack
Remus wanders through the empty halls of their apartment, just two months ago they had bought it, Sirius and him, fully prepared to spend the rest of their lives here together, but now he is alone. Sirius is gone, has been for almost two weeks now. The funeral had been on Monday (it’s Friday now) but Remus couldn’t go, it had been too hard, it still is, the fact that now he is once again alone – he can barely stomach it. James and Peter had tried to get him to go outside, but Remus couldn’t find the strength to face a world without Sirius in it.
Often he catches himself pouring two cups of tea or speaking out loud for no one to hear, a lot goes missing and a lot gets found in places only Sirius would put it. He should find a new apartment, this one is too big for just one person. It holds too much of Sirius for Remus too bare.
The first time the book falls Remus thinks nothing of it, probably just the wind. The second time it happens the book opens up on a page Remus hasn’t read in years. In the margins scribbled in black ink is an all too familiar handwriting This’s rubbish Moony. It hurts, a cruel joke brought forth by grief. He used to love that book, he had lent it to Sirius a couple days before the accident. He hadn’t thought that Sirius would actually read it, would add his own thoughts next to those of Remus on the pages. It hurts so bad in a way that Remus doesn’t want to stop.
He doesn’t know how long he stands there staring at that page, but it was long enough for the sun to go under and the lanterns to light up the streets. He should pick it up, put it back on the shelf. Clean up the mess like he always told Sirius to do after he would make a mess. But he can’t. He can’t make himself pick up the book he never got to share his thoughts with Sirius about. All he can do is turn around and ignore it for now. He can pretend to go to sleep, he can pretend to get a proper night's rest like he does every night since that day. He can pretend nothing is wrong.
———
Sirius is roaming the street, the light is bright, almost blinding him as he watches how many people are heading in the same direction. He doesn’t know why but he decides to follow them. After two blocks they all stop moving, the road is blocked by the police and the fire brigade and the paramatics. He asks what’s going on but everyone is ignoring him. He tries to make his way through the crowd, to the front to see what all the commotion is about.
An accident.
There has been an accident. A man had been drinking and swirled off the road into a group of pedestrians. A couple of them are injured, one of them seems to be stuck under the car, and of course the driver is fine. They are trying to free the man from under the car. It's useless, even from here Sirius knows there is no way the man survived.
Sirius should probably go home to Remus, he wanted to go home to Remus. All of this reminded him too much of Regulus. Regulus who, barely a year ago, had taken his own life. Regulus who Sirius hasn't spoken to since he ran away from home at the age of fifteen. He had learned of Regulus' passing, not from his estranged family, but from the obituary he found in the newspaper that Remus liked so much. They had said it was an ‘unknown’ cause that had cut the life of the youngest Black tragically short, but Sirius knew his family – there was nothing unknown about it. But as much as he wanted to leave the scene of the accident, he couldn't seem to move away. He was stuck in place, shackled to the ground, waiting for the car to be removed. Waiting and waiting, for minutes and for hours, he kept standing there on the pavement.
Eventually they got the car in the air and the man was quickly hidden by a white curtain, but it wasn't fast enough. Sirius saw the body, he saw the man, he saw his own body covered in his own blood, he saw his own eyes devoid of life. He saw his own body, hidden from prying eyes, being carried away as he stood there on the pavement.
It doesn’t make sense. He can’t be dead. He is here. Alive. Standing on the pavement surrounded by people… people who all ignore him. People who don’t answer the questions he shouts at them, people who ignore his waving hands, people… who walk right through him.
He runs and runs and runs and when his lungs burn and his legs go numb he keeps on running. He has to get home. He has to get to Remus, he’ll know what to do. He can’t leave Remus, not now when they finally got everything figured out, not ever. He runs through the street passing people and cars on his way, passing through people and cars on his way. He has to hurry, he has to be quick. He has to be faster than the coppers, he can’t let Remus receive the news on his own, he has to be there for him.
He rushes into the building, up the stairs to their apartment door. He tries to open it but falls through it instead. Remus is sitting on the sofa, reading one of his books while holding a cup of tea. Sirius freezes and for a minute he just watches the way the sun catches Remus' hair. It’s breathtaking, it had been when they first met back in school, and still is now more than a decade later.
Then the doorbell rings and Sirius knows.
———
Remus is home alone when the doorbell sounds. He was reading his book and drinking his tea. It’s the middle of a Saturday, who would be ringing the bell?
He puts his book and drink down on the recently purchased coffee table and makes his way to the little box by the door to look who is downstairs. He is surprised to see the two officers by the front door to the building, but he lets them up anyhow after a brief conversation and they identify themselves.
He doesn’t remember much after that, just that his world broke apart in a matter of seconds. He knows the men are trying to comfort him, he can see it on their faces, worried eyes and hands ready to catch him were he to fall down. He can see their lips moving, but no sound reaches his ears. Mister Black was involved in an accident repeats itself in his head earlier this morning a driver lost control of his car it doesn’t stop unfortunately mister Black did not make it Remus slams the door, locking the two officers out, and into the hall. For a moment he doesn’t do anything, he just stares at the door. Then he falls to the ground, legs bend into his chest, head presses between his knees. It doesn’t take long for the tears and screams to follow.
———
Sirius doesn’t know what to do. Remus is sitting in front of him, crying and screaming, whaling his eyes out and cursing everything in existence. Sirius has never seen Remus like this, so miserable and heartbroken, and he is the reason. Sirius put that expression on Remus’ face. He brought that pain into Remus’ life, he broke his heart after promising him forever. Sirius wants to hold him, tell him everything will be alright, but the moment he tries to tough the love of his life, he passes right through him. It hurts only being able to watch.
Days pass but nothing changes, Remus is but a shell of who he had always been. James and Peter had come by, but Remus had mostly ignored their presence. He hadn’t even opened the door to their other friends. And Sirius just sits there, on the windowsill, on the counter, the sofa and chairs. Always trailing after Remus, never wanting to leave him alone.
The day before his funeral – what a morbid thought – Sirius figures something out. Ever since the day Remus got the news of his passing Sirius couldn’t make himself try to hold or even tough Remus, too afraid of the reminder of what he can no longer do for Remus, what he can no longer be for Remus. But in a moment of inattention, Remus walks through Sirius and shivers. He shivers as he walks through Sirius, but no windows are open. It gives Sirius hope that maybe he can still be there for Remus. That night he starts experimenting, he starts with little touches, the brush of his hand on Remus’ skin, an arm around his shoulder as Sirius sits next to him on the sofa, staring out of the window into the night sky. The same way Sirius did after Regulus died, searching for his constellation, his star, trying to find some closer after a decade of no contact. Now it was Remus’ turn to look for the Sirius in the sky because the Sirius on the couch can no longer be seen.
At night, when Remus finally goes to bed, Sirius starts to experiment some more, not on people but on objects. He tries to touch them, move them, lift them. It takes a while, but he does it. He starts moving objects, stuff Remus put away in places they shouldn’t belong. Sirius brings them back to the place they should be stored. It doesn’t get much of a reaction out of Remus, some annoyance at first then just a painful smile.
The more Sirius tries to touch Remus, the more layers Remus starts to wear. It’s annoying, if Remus keeps on covering up, where is Sirius supposed to tough him, how is he supposed to let Remus know that he is still here with him, that he hasn’t left him, that he isn’t alone and never will be. Sirius will make sure of that for as long as he is able to.
Some days after his funeral, Sirius really doesn’t like that thought, does he learn how to move the heavy objects, like books. He stares at the bookshelves for a while, trying to decide which one to move when his eyes find the torn spine of a book well loved. The book Sirius borrowed from Remus a while ago, the book Remus loves so much. He hears footsteps approaching and knows what to do. He concentrates and pushes the book with as much force as he can. Slowly the book moves. It’s exhausting but he has to be quick. He can’t let Remus pass without getting his attention.
———
Remus walks by the living room when he hears a soft thump. He looks through the entryway and sees that one of their – no one of his; they are all his now – books had fallen off its shelf. He quickly picks it up and places it back on the shelf, just as another cold breeze makes its way through the room. He really should learn to close the windows.
A couple of days later the book lays on the ground once again, this time opened on a specific page. A page on which Sirius had written him a note This’s rubbish Moony he should pick it up and close it, but if he does that, he feels that he closes a chapter he can never return to. So instead he leaves it there, on the ground, it’s no place for a book to be but right now it seems to be the most reasonable thing to do for him. Forever closing it or letting it stay in a place it doesn’t belong. It’s not a hard choice to make.
———
Sirius doesn’t know what to do anymore. He is stuck here with no way to tell anyone that he is still there. Remus had left the room and had left the book on the floor. He had looked so afraid to pick it up it had made Sirius wonder if he had gone too far with his haunting.
Later, when Sirus had finally gotten the book back on its rightful place on the shelf, he took a seat in the leather chair that Remus had begged him to throw away but Sirius had been adamant on keeping it, saying it held too many great memories for it had been with him ever since he first got his own place. It had ended up in a fight on the morning he had died, it seems so useless now, he wonders why Remus hadn’t gotten rid of it yet.
When the clock struck twelve Remus walked back into the room. He looked at the ground where the book had been before he went to bed, but it was no longer there. Sirius could see the confusion on his face when he saw that the book was back on the shelf. Remus' gaze shifted from the bookcase to the leather chair in which Sirius was still sitting. Slowly he made his way to the chair in front of it. The one Remus had been in when the officers first arrived and hadn’t sat in since then. He looked at Sirius, and he spoke. Sirius knew Remus couldn’t see him, he saw the way his eyes roamed over the chair and the space around it, never looking at it directly. But it didn’t matter, Remus spoke to him. He told him about his day, about breakfast and dinner, about work and what book he was reading. There was nothing special about what was being said, but for once Sirius coils pretend he wasn’t dead, that he wasn't a ghost, he could pretend to hold a conversation with the man he loves, even if the man he loves doesn’t know he’s there.
———
Remus kept on tossing and turning, something about that one page didn’t sit right with him. He looked at that alarm next to his bed, midnight, he could keep laying here and pretend he was going to fall asleep or he could go to the living room and get that book off the ground.
The book wasn’t on the ground, it should be, Remus knows it was there. But as he looks up at the shelf, there it is, his book with the worn spine. Remus stares at it unsure if he really didn’t imagine it all. Maybe the lack of sleep was catching up to him, maybe it was the grief or the pain he kept on ignoring.
He doesn’t know why but his eyes start to drift to Sirius' chair. That godforsaken damaged and ugly leather chair Sirius was so adamant about keeping. The chair that had caused them to fight the morning before the accident. Sirius had left to clear his head while Remus had stayed home. It was his fault, if he had just let Sirius keep that damned chair he wouldn’t have been out there, he wouldn’t have been hit by that car, they could have been in bed together right now.
Remus let his feet guide him to the chair opposite that leather monstrosity, he doesn’t know why, but once he sat down he started talking to the chair. He spoke of the most mundane things, like he was talking about his day with Sirius, and Remus decided that tonight he could pretend he was.
Some people are raised with sharp edges, and cold touches; Regulus is one of those people. He is raised in the cold and in the absence of heat. From early on, he has learned to be relentless, to be unforgiving. To curse and insult those who are beneath him.
Others are taught to soften every corner they touch, to shine a light in the dark; James never learned how not to. He is raised in the warmth of hugs and forehead kisses. Being surrounded by love and care since birth made it impossible for him to close his heart, even to the cruelest of people.
It was never supposed to work; the two of them were too different. Like the cold and the heat, like the sun and the snow, like day and night – never meant to meet. But that which should have made it impossible, that which made them opposites, was what made it work – made them fit. They understood each other in ways that no one else ever could. They tore apart in ways that no one will ever know.
With a war approaching choices had to be made. What side will you follow? Who will you leave behind? Will you choose the Light, or will you choose the Dark? A question asked to teenagers, young and impressionable, easily swayed by promises of grandeur and victory.
A small question that will determine the remainder of their lives, a question to which they pretend the answer has not yet been determined. As if a boy raised in the darkness could ever reach for the light without burning. As if a boy, raised in the warmth of love, could ever survive the cold touch of the dark. As if they had ever been in the middle long enough to make a choice.
The wall they had built around them had never been solid; it only felt like it and, if you didn't look too close, it seemed that way too. Built to keep them safe, but trapped at the same time. The differences that had once completed each other began to misalign. Small cracks would appear in the wall, imperceptible at first; later it just became easier to ignore. Cracks grow and spread, until they cover every wall and meet in the middle. Sometimes opposites are meant to meet in the middle and support each other, but other times they are meant to erase each other so that neither one remains.
Once the cracks finally met, the wall came down, crumbling and collapsing around them, a ruin that could not be saved. But perhaps, in the end, they were equal, for leaving did not make Regulus softer; it only gave him nothing to lose. And for James, leaving did not make him colder; it only gave him more to fight for.
Dark clouds hid the morning sky. Stiff winds rattle the branches, carrying that petrichor scent across the school grounds. The rain has been falling from the sky since noon yesterday. It's no surprise – it is that time of year again when snow morphs into rain and the sun hides behind her clouds in the sky. The air feels cold to Barty’s skin as he stares out over the lake. Even with the winds racing around him, making his robes flutter in the air, the lake is as still as ever – not a ripple to be seen.
He should probably go inside; breakfast will start soon and he will need to get his clothes dry before then. But he can't seem to make himself move. He is stuck here, chained to the ground by an immovable force. Thunder sounds in the distance, lightning following quickly after. He needs go.
———
When Evan wakes up it doesn't take long for him to realise he is alone. The spot in which Barty had lain the previous night has gone cold. Regulus’ bed is empty too, it always is in the morning.
Outside sounds the distant rumbling of thunder as rain clatters onto the dorm's windows. Only the dorms of the Slytherins are above the ground, the rest of their house has always been hidden underneath the earth. The wind pushes against the windows, opening them to guide the water inside. It is times like these – when the weather has a mind of its own – that Evan wishes that the dorms could be underground too. That way the rain would remain unheard and the water outside.
He ought get up, get dressed and leave for breakfast. But as he moves to go to breakfast he doesn't stop at the doors leading to the Great Hall. No, instead he keeps moving, reaching the school's entrance. The large and heavy doors stand before him leading out towards the courtyard.
It's ridiculous, it's cold and wet. The ground is covered in mud and if he doesn't turn back now he will miss breakfast. But he moves on towards the lake where a silhouette is already standing by its shore.
———
Barty didn't go. He stayed on that shoreline and didn't leave, he never does. He knows he should; he is soaked and at some point it had begun to hail. The frozen pellets of rain hit his skin while he keeps on staring at the empty space before him.
Someone moves beside him, quiet and calm, not demanding any attention. Just a silent reminder that he isn't alone as their fingers slowly tread together.
———
Evan moves to stand beside Barty on the shore of the lake. Hail strikes his face, blurring his vision. It's freezing and a bit painful, but he doesn't mind. As long as he has Barty, he will never mind it.
He doesn't say anything, just stands there next to him, slowly threading his fingers with Barty's. No words are needed to get the message across. For now, that is enough.
@jeggyverses-jegulus-microfic - 28. Team - word count: 334
Rain poured down from the blackened sky, drenching all those who stood in the stands. The wind was relentless, making the already dangerous game even more hazardous; multiple students had already been sent off towards the hospital wing. Yet even though the storm, shouting could be heard, rising above the distant thunder. No one dared to miss a Quidditch match – especially not this one, not the final: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Who would win the cup?
Regulus hung high in the sky, hovering above a sea of green and red jerseys, looking for that golden flicker that would win Slytherin the cup, and end this game. Below him James made his way towards the Slytherin goalpost, the Quaffle in hand. The other chasers, green or red, couldn’t keep up with him. At least the stormy weather benefited someone.
James' goal brought Gryffindor’s score up to 95, while Slytherin’s remained at 90. But the rain hung like a curtain over the court, hiding everything from sight. The cold wind clung to their bodies, freezing them from the inside out. Finding the Snitch in this weather would be near impossible. They had been in the air for hours now, and the ending was nowhere in sight. As captains, James and Regulus could, of course, try to reach an agreement, but that would never happen, they knew it, their teams knew it, the whole student body knew it. There would be no getting out of this rain, they were both too competitive for that. They would give it their all even if that meant playing for hours, or days until the Snitch was caught.
And after Slytherin wins, because of course Slytherin is going to win, they would meet in the Room of Requirement like they so often did: quiet, unseen, theirs alone. No more red, no more green. No more houses and opposing teams. Just them. Hidden where no one would ever find them, they could finally become their own team. James and Regulus. Regulus and James.
For some reason Remus hasn’t figured out yet, the wizarding world seems averse to the concept of a teabag. They just put the leaves in the water, which means that the leaves float in the water, which means you drink the leaves with the water. It’s ridiculous. Sirius, James and Peter don't seem to get it, being pure-bloods and all. At least he got Lily to share his struggles with even if she isn't such an avid tea drinker as he is.
When, in their third year, Divination becomes a class some of them follow, Remus starts to understand the lack of teabags, but he also sees the immediate lack of privacy. If the loose tea leaves are in order to see the future, everyone who sees your teacup will know it. No more secrets, no more hiding. All will be out there for everyone to see. Someone picks up your cup, and they will know.
The others tell Remus he is being paranoid; that no one cares about the leaves at the bottom of his cup, but they don’t have to hide. They do not have to lie every day of their lives to everyone around them. They do not have secrets like he does. It isn’t about secret crushes, though yes he does have one, but for him it is about survival. About avoiding the hunt that will undoubtedly follow him were his secret to come out.
When he was twelve years old, three people already figured his secret out. Sure, they didn’t mind. They were even looking into ways to support him even more (the leading option at the moment being animagi. They think he doesn’t know, but they’re horrendous at keeping things secret from him). Still, they are an exception, not the norm.
If his secret were to come out he would lose this, lose them, and he can’t have that.
As the school year continues on, his worries do not falter, he just becomes better at hiding them. Keeping his teacup close to his person, never letting it out of his sight, messing with the leaves after he is done. Everything and anything he can think of to keep his secret safe.
Eventually the cold months turn into warm days, and days inside turn into hours under the sun. And hiding his secret becomes easier with a small gift: teabags. Some muggle curiosity Sirius called it, hidden among rubber ducks and other things. But Remus knew what it was, and that was enough.
Regulus has denied himself many things over the years: toys, books, space, hugs, friendship…love. He always told himself it didn't matter, that he didn't need any of it. But now, a tiny, selfish part of him can't help but wonder, if he hadn't denied it himself, would he still have gone here?
If he hadn't denied himself the sun, would he still have entered the night? Walking the rocky path with only the moon to guide him for so long. Freezing in the cold water, dragged under by death instead of being held afloat by life.
If he had not denied the late night conversations and the fleeting glances, would he still have gone alone? With one plan and no backup. No one to remember him, to scream his name and fear for him.
But he had chosen this silence over the love he could have had so loudly, didn't he?
If he hadn't denied the soft touches and stolen kisses, could it have been him under the flower arch? Could he have had a future filled with smiles and love, with warmth and light? Or would they have come here together, dying side by side, instead of his death fading into nothing more than a whisper fading in the morning air?
@wolfstarmicrofic - 25. Euphoria - word count: 350
Remus had met Sirius for the first time on a dark and cold September morning. The train had just taken off from the station on its way to Hogwarts. Sirius had opened the door to the compartment, his warm and vibrant eyes a complete contrast to the anxiety rising within Remus himself. For years their love had been fleeting – late night study sessions in the library, a brush of hands in the corridors – it was during these moments that Remus felt it: euphoria, in its most honest and truest form, the reckless race of his pulse, a dizzying ache in his chest.
Their love had come like a storm, sudden and violent with no warning or guidance. Days turned into minutes and nights into eternities. Every laugh and whisper was a note added to the symphony only they could hear. And Remus had clung to it, desperate to keep the fragility of it all safe within his arms.
And then, as if the world had been waiting, Halloween made its arrival and Sirius his departure. No explanation, no goodbye. All that he left was the hollow ache of years gone by.
Remus now walks the streets looking for the magic they have long since lost. He returns to King's Cross Station, why he doesn't know. Maybe to find answers to questions he had put to rest long ago. Maybe in search of the warmth that once flooded him at this station. Whatever it was, he couldn't find it.
Euphoria, he came to realise, is not just the heights, it's about the lows too. It's about the heartbreak and the pain that cling to the end of every pulse of joy and love.
Every memory will come to an end and eventually make way for new ones. As he looks around the platform, he sees it: the crowd of students, old and new, all shining bright in the foggy morning light. A flicker of that old recklessness lights in his chest; it's cruel and painful, it burns, and it's beautiful. It reminds him that love, however fleeting, is worth the ache.
@rosekillermicrofic - 19. Eternity - word count: 240
cw: mcd
Evan never considered the possibility that there wouldn't be a tomorrow. It's stupid, he knows. They’re at war – nothing is guaranteed – and yet he never stopped to consider that tomorrow could be part of that nothing.
Blame it on his stupidity or his naivety. Blame it on some childlike positivity he unconsciously had clung to all those years; the possibility that they could survive this war had always been a futile dream.
It had never been a possibility for them.
Here, on the cold dirt, it finally hits him: they never had eternity. Barty and he were doomed from the beginning. And maybe they had both known it from the start.
Loving each other had been foolish. Fighting this war is foolish. But they had both been so determined to ignore the future. They had only ever looked at the past, a past they had wanted to escape, an escape that they had found in each other. An escape that turned out to be just another prison.
Maybe Evan should have listened to Pandora all those years ago, or maybe they should have followed Dorcas. But in just a short flash, the past had become just as useless as the future always had been for him.
He wonders what Barty would do once he learns of the news. Would he cry? Would he mourn him? Had he also been ignoring the facts, or had he known they never had eternity?
In hockey the crease is meant to protect the goalie. It's a boundary, a line that is never meant to be crossed. You don't get to crash it without consequence, you don't get to score when it's violated.
It's not a weakness, but protection written in black on white.
Remus knows this, understands it instinctively.
He has spent his life learning the rules, has memorised where the lines are. He knows when contact becomes dangerous and when the danger of getting penalised comes close. He keeps his distance and holds his ground.
He knows when to retreat into the safety of the blue-painted lines. Into the safety of himself.
Sirius does not. He is brash, all speed and impact, never afraid to come too close to the net, of breaking the rules which he never learned were made to keep others safe.
He thrives in the chaos in front of the goal. The high speed collisions, the scramble for the puck, the chance that something reckless might score the goal.
Until he notices the flinch in Remus when someone comes too close. Until he realises that Remus doesn't back away because he is afraid, but because he knows what happens when someone ignores the crease.
The shift comes slowly, unknowingly, as Sirius begins to learn what loving Remus means; not charging in, but respecting the boundary. He learns to guard the space, he stands between Remus and anyone who dares to cross the blue lines.
He learns that strength does not lie with charging but with protecting.
@jeggyverses-jegulus-microfic - 8. Snow - word count: 411
The windows of the library had frosted over sometime during the night. Outside the grounds were covered in a thick blanket of snow. Cold, white, and not yet touched by any of the students. It was an easy choice, staying inside, it was warm no matter where you went. Going outside meant freezing along with the trees.
Regulus’s friends had been in the middle of “planning” a party for the first snowfall of the year when he had left for the library. It had been quiet in the halls and it was quiet in the library. The students had likely opted to spend the day in their dorms huddled around the fire.
Regulus had made his way to a table close to one of the windows. It was a hidden spot, out of sight from anyone who would make their way towards the library to study or catch up on homework after the Quidditch match of last week.
Laughter came from outside. It sounded familiar and yet so foreign at the same time. He knew he shouldn’t look, he had to focus on his studies, he had a test coming up. But a small distraction couldn’t hurt, right?
Before he knew it his eyes had left his book in favour of looking out of the frosted window. It was blurry, but the motions were easily spotted against the still background.
Sirius was the easiest to recognise: black hair against the white background, bold movements and no hesitation. Peter trailed behind him, next to what must be Remus, hand still in his pocket; he looked content to just watch. In the centre of them all stood James, bright smile and flushed cheeks. He threw his head back laughing, and even at this distance Regulus could hear the sincerity behind it (like James Potter could ever do anything without being sincere).
Regulus should look away — he should have never looked out the window — but for some reason he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the boy in the center.
James's eyes caught his through the window for less than a second, but it felt like so much more — it felt like years, maybe even an eternity. A small smile grazed James' lips as he looked at him and Regulus’s breath caught, like it always did when they looked at each other (traitor). All of a sudden James looked away, attention caught by something Remus had said, and Regulus turned back to his studies.
It was already late into the night, but James and Regulus had yet to make any move to retreat towards their dorms. After dinner they had made their way to the Room of Come and Go, or the Room of Requirement, as Regulus insisted its name was. But James found the name Come and Go more fitting, because that’s what they do — they come and then they go again. If it were the Room of Requirement, they would stay.
Regulus’ Potions book and James’ History of Magic book were still on the coffee table, right where they had left them the last time they had been here. That had been two days ago, on a Wednesday. That had also been the day they had found the initials S and G carved into the wall and had added their own R and J.
They had left early that night, they had classes the next morning, and Sirius had wanted to plan a prank, but now it is Friday. They don’t have to worry about school, and no pranks are being planned. They have as long as they want.
The fireplace casts a faint orange-golden glow over them as they cuddle on the sofa the room had provided. Regulus had dozed off a little while ago, head resting on James’ shoulder. Asleep, he looks more peaceful than he ever is when awake. His face relaxed with a small smile on his lips. It’s the only time James gets to see Regulus so calm. During the day, he always wears a mask of cold indifference. His grey eyes, sharp like the blade of a knife, cool and distant, ready to cut you down and bleed you dry. It makes others look away, but those who stay can see the truth. James can see the truth. He does not see the grey of a blade in Regulus' eyes. No, he sees the grey of the stars. Bright and strong, fierce, burning with love — yet so far away.
All he can do now is hold the dozing boy in his arms, and hope that one day he will not have to let go.
@wolfstarmicrofic - 28. Embraced - word count: 180
Some nights Sirius wakes up covered in cold sweat and surrounded by damp covers. Nightmares. They used to be about his family, but now — more often than not — they involve Remus.
The full moon scares him, more so than it does Remus.
He fears that what could be, he fears that what is. It all makes his head spin. He tries to keep quiet, muffling his sobs and swallowing his screams, so as not to wake the others, but who is he kidding? You can’t hide anything from a werewolf.
Remus’s hearing and smell have tuned into the wolf part of himself. He hates it most of the time. He fears the wolf, the monster that it makes him, but on nights like this one, he is grateful for it. Grateful he can be there for Sirius.
With only the silver strands of the moon to guide him, he makes his way to Sirius’s bed, takes his place next to him, and holds him.
Remus’s embrace is the only place Sirius felt safe that night — and every night that followed.
@pandalilymicrofics - 26. Foresight - word count: 353
Pandora lingers by the bay of the window. The green hue of the lake falls over her figure as she stares at the heart of the Slytherin common room. Her vision of the future still ripe behind her eyes.
The green flash had been brighter than the green that surrounds her now. The scream had sounded so wrong, so scared. She knows that scream even if she has never heard it before. She knows whose voice had been behind it; she knows what the colour of her hair is – a dark red that shines beautifully whenever rays of sunlight hit it. She knows the colour of the eyes that were behind the scream, a beautiful green – the green of nature, of plants, the green of life – it was nothing like the green that only brought death.
She knows the laugh that should leave those soft, sweet lips. It shouldn't have been a scream. It was never supposed to be a scream, but now, all she can hear is the silence that followed it. And maybe that's the worst of it all. All she has left of the woman she loves is a scream and silence. She won't be able to hear Lily's soft laughter, stupid jokes, and quiet confessions until the holidays are over. Until then she only has this, a vision she wished she never had.
What is she supposed to do now? Tell her, tell Lily that she knows how her life will come to an end. That it's not the end they had so often whispered about. Or should she stay quiet and never speak of her vision… at least not to Lily.
Whoever said that foresight was a gift is a fool. Pandora doesn't feel gifted or blessed at all, she feels cursed with knowledge she wishes she didn't possess.
Someone bumps her shoulder, Barty. When had he come up to her? She hadn't heard him approach. “Everything all right?” he asks her softly, as if weighing each word carefully. She must have shown her worries on her face more than she thought.
The dorm room is quiet; the only sound is the gentle breathing of two boys echoing throughout the dark room. They share the narrow bed hidden by the curtains, limbs tangled, basking in the other's body heat. Regulus had gone off somewhere earlier in the evening to do Merlin knows what, but his absence made room for Evan and Barty to do as they pleased.
Some may say that it’s bad, that it’s wrong, that it is evil and sinful. They don’t care because hell only exists when they are apart.
Some may say that it's foolish, that it will never last. Others say it’s romantic, first love, childhood love.
They say… nothing. They don’t name it. They never told the other how they feel. It’s not something they do, talking. They roam the student body and do as they want with whomever they want, but in the end they always end up in the same bed. They know that.
Sometimes they dare to dream. Small things, always in the hypothetical. A house with a garden. A dog or a cat. Home-cooked meals and colourful walls. A place that is theirs. It's foolish and stupid. It will never happen; it can never happen. They have their duty, they made their promises.
It had always been their choice. And they choose this – not the dream, not the future, but this: the end.
@jeggyverses-jegulus-microfic - 7. Overnight - word count: 463
Only the stars bring light into the astronomy tower, the only ones daring to touch them. James can barely see Regulus' face, but it’s all they have. Stolen moments, under stolen lights. He wishes it could be more, that they could be more.
But he had only recently gotten Regulus to open up to him. It had taken him years of tracing Regulus’ footprints on the map, of following him through the corridors and up the astronomy tower to be able to get one honest word out of him. Not one of those defensive or evasive insults he had received before.
James doesn't know what made him follow the boy; he was rude, mean, and even Sirius didn't want to talk to or about him anymore. Still, James couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more — something hidden — about the boy that even the once closest to Regulus would never get to see.
And perhaps Sirius was right, Regulus was rude and mean, he was obnoxious and always had to be right, but when he smiles he does so with his whole heart. The sparkle in his eyes, the sound that leaves his lips, the crinkle of his nose, it all makes James forget how to breathe. And if it takes some slight jabs and a few hexes to get to hear that laugh, wouldn't that be worth it?
Only one side of Regulus' face caught the silver light of the moon, pale and reflective, like a mirror he glowed. It stole James' breath more than any Quidditch match ever could. The other side of Regulus' face remained hidden by shadows — a part of him James had yet to uncover.
James knows he shouldn't want this, it's dangerous and stupid. He knows that nights like this one only ever end in heartbreak, and yet he can't seem to let go. He wants to hold on to this light, to this Regulus only he gets to see.
Night makes it easy to forget, it's only the two of them in a place they shouldn't be, surrounded by shadows. Shadows who don't judge, only hide what the daylight won't forgive.
He wishes the night could last forever, that they could last forever.
“Wouldn't it be nice to stay here overnight?” James murmured, turning to Regulus, “Just us. Somewhere no one will ever find us?”
A ghost of a smile makes its way to Regulus' face, but he knows how to quash it, and if James didn't know better, he wouldn't have noticed it “Until morning comes.” was all Regulus said.
“Until morning comes,” James echoes, and it feels final. It shouldn't be, it should be a promise, one they can both hold on to, can come back to.
The silence of the night was a trick, a trick to make him let his guard down so the Dementors could sneak up on him.
The darkness of the night was a lie, a lie of privacy to make it easy for the Dementors to take his happiness.
He won't be fooled, he will keep his guard up.
No one will touch his memories, the only part of himself that they let him keep while they stripped all the rest of him away.
He will fight, he will not succumb to this place. He knows the truth, and he will never let it go.
He will find a way to get back to hear Remus laugh, to see Harry grow up, to feel Remus’s touch. It's the only flicker of light he will not let Azkaban take from him.
The love and care he felt with his friends, sneaking around the halls with them, setting up pranks and hiding in closets with Remus.
The soft press of their lips as a fire filled him from within. The warmth that spread through him with even the slightest brush of their skin. He will never let go of this feeling. Even when the air grows cold and screams echo in the air — his screams — he will remember. He always will.
Under the moon, in the silence, even in the depths of night, he won’t forget the warmth of the love he felt.
