▪︎L♡VƐRS▪︎

☆ But if you're too drunk to drive, and the music is right ☆ She might let you stay, but just for the night ☆

[goodl0v3]

|— QUICK INTRODUCTION —|

Hi lovies! Bit new to tumblr to be honest, but just on here for a good read. A bit multi-fandom but repost a lot of the same thing to keep myself sane (need some sort of order). I'll update the more I grow into this platform!

| she/her | 18+ |

Might add on a rec. list at some point but not at this time.

Feel free to interact with me appropriately and remember to stay lovely ♡

[m4riaa-bonita]

Interim - singledad!Remus Lupin

Masterlist ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

summary: you're Teddy's babysitter who Remus is absolutely not head over heels over... but what happens when his ex-wife and mother of his kid shows up one day after being gone for six years?

pairing: singledad!Remus x babysitter!reader

tags: long afk but worth it i promise, muggle!au, modern!au, single dad remus, age!gap sorta (reader is 24 and remus is 32), reader is lonely and so is remus:(, angst, happy ending & Tonks slander for the plot im so sorry i love her i swear.

The first time you babysat Teddy Lupin he bit you. He bit you hard.

You'd think a six year old would be a tiny bit more mature when trying to express big big feelings but oh well...

The first time you properly met Remus Lupin, he was leaning against the bathroom doorway while you searched his medicine cabinet for a bandage, in need of it for small little bite-sized cuts, courtesy of his son's surprisingly sharp teeth.

"I promise he doesn't have rabies." he says, looking extremely apologetic as he hands you a small box of dinosaur band-aids

You looked down at the cartoon triceratops smiling up at you.

"Sorry, we only have these and I keep them in my room because Teddy likes to put them on everything."

"Well," you said, peeling open the Band-Aid. "At least he has good taste."

"In band-aids?"

"In victims."

For the first time since you'd arrived, Remus laughed and the sound surprised both of you.

Teddy had his father's laugh, you'd come to learn. It escaped them in stages: a huff through his nose, a smile he tried and failed to suppress, and then a laugh proper, warm and low and wonderfully unguarded.

Remus thought you'd quit after Teddy bit you, instead, you taught him all afternoon how to express overwhelming joy through words and hugs. He hired you on the spot.

As it turned out, working for Remus Lupin fit surprisingly well into your schedule. He lived only fifteen minutes from campus and taught there himself, though from the other side of the lectern and thankfully not in classes corresponding your major. Getting from your classes to his house was only a fifteen-minute drive.

After the toddler had scared six nannies already, Remus the atheist thought of going to a church and say thanks to The Man Himself when his son seemed so accepting of you. None of the others had lasted more than a month after some incidents... like the one time where Teddy learned that pretending to cry guaranteed attention and subsequently produced tears on command whenever vegetables appeared on his plate, or when he convinced a nanny he had swallowed a coin.

He had not.

He simply wanted to know what happened when people thought you had.

And there came you.

A woman in her mid-twenties, almost done with college and desperately in need of cash.

Somehow, you possessed the extraordinary ability to turn Teddy Lupin into a less unhinged version of himself simply by speaking to him as though he were a thinking human being. A rather radical approach for any of the other babysitters that had had the misfortune of looking after him.

The first month, Teddy stopped biting people.

The second month, he started waiting by the living room window for your car.

By the third, he knew your class schedule better than you did.

"You're late." He accused, arms tightly around himself to show he was clearly furious.

You checked your watch. "I am four minutes early."

"You were eight minutes earlier yesterday."

"That's not how being late works, bubba."

Teddy narrowed his eyes. You narrowed yours right back. Then he broke into a fit of giggles and forced you to play hide n' seek with him for the third time that week.

One rainy afternoon, you found yourself sitting cross-legged on the living room floor helping Teddy build a cardboard castle from old delivery boxes his dad had abandoned months ago.

The structure was ugly. Dangerously unstable. And somehow required seventeen rolls of tape his dad would absolutely need at some point of the apocalypse he had bought them for.

"Who lives there?" you asked, taping one of the makeshift windows to the side of the castle. You could've pursued architecture.

"A dragon."

"Only a dragon? A single one?"

"A dragon and me." He nods, like it's obvious, like it's a universal truth.

You nodded solemnly, catching one of the falling pieces from the roof. "Fair enough."

Teddy considered this. He looked at you from head to toe, still wearing the princess hat you made for yourself with cardboard and glittery pink markers. "And you." He decides

Your hands paused. "Oh."

"And Dad, I guess."

"How generous of you." You smile

Teddy shrugged. "The dragon likes you."

Remus noticed it before you did.

The way Teddy reached for you first whenever he was upset. The way he shouted your name the moment he got a good grade. The way he insisted on saving half his desserts for you. The way the house seemed fuller whenever you were in it.

Warmer. Louder. Happier.

Ever since Tonks had left not long after Teddy was born, the house had felt different. Quieter. Not in the literal sense; if anything, Teddy seemed determined to produce enough noise for three people. But there was an emptiness to it all the same. A second mug never taken down from the cabinet. A side of the bed that remained untouched. Conversations that ended before they began because there was nobody to have them with. At first, Remus had noticed it everywhere.

In the silence that greeted him after putting Teddy to sleep.

In the groceries he no longer bought.

In the absence of someone asking how his day had been.

Then life carried on, as it tended to do. Teddy grew. The laundry piled up. Bills had to be paid. Homework from both his son and his students needed checking. Somewhere between surviving and parenting, the loneliness stopped feeling like an intruder and settled into something more permanent. A piece of furniture. An old ache. The sort of thing he only noticed when it wasn't truly there.

Which was perhaps why your arrival caught him so off guard: You filled space without trying to.

Suddenly there was laughter coming from the living room when he got home from work. Someone stealing the good pens from his desk. Someone else reminding Teddy to brush his teeth. Someone sitting at the kitchen counter while he made dinner, telling him about a professor who couldn't work the projector.

The house wasn't less messy or more manageable. If anything, it was louder than ever. But it felt alive again.

One evening, after putting Teddy to bed, you found Remus standing in the kitchen nursing a mug of tea. "He's asleep?" he asks, pulling the little tea bag in and out of the water of his cup, the scent of camomile filling the room.

"Barely." You say with a groan, sitting on the kitchen island with a small thud.

This had become a ritual, of sorts. Talking with Remus about both of your days, or your lives, before he awkwardly slipped the fifty dollar bill across the counter and you slipped out the door to go home.

"He asked for three stories?"

"Four."

Remus winced. "My condolences, love."

You laughed. He smiled.

And then neither of you looked away quite as quickly as you should have. It lasted only a second. Maybe two. He should be grabbing his wallet instead of staring at you like a creep, he thought briefly. But something shifted. Not enough to name. Not enough to acknowledge. Just enough to notice. Just enough to remember.

The first school event you attended happened entirely by accident. Or at least that's what you told yourself.

"Dad can't come to my school thing." Teddy delivered the news with all the gravity of someone announcing a death in the family and the hopefulness of asking for extra candy. You glanced up from his math worksheet spread across the kitchen table. "What do you mean he can't come?"

"He has a meeting at his school." He sighs, resting his chubby cheek in his hand as he scribbles down the page instead of writing actual numbers.

"Oh."

Teddy stared. You stared back. The silence stretched.

"Okay?"

"It's my assembly." Teddy said in the whiniest of tones, spinning around in his chair without taking his eyes off of you, turning his head every time his back faced you

"I know- Bubba, you're going to get dizzy and vomit those dino nuggets, stop."

He stops himself, his little hands clawing at the kitchen island to make himself sit straight again. "You have to come!"

You blinked. "I absolutely do not."

"You do!"

"Teddy."

"You're my emergency contact." He says in an attempt to somehow tie you into a school assembly.

"Your dad is your emergency contact." Busted. Your smirk is proud, like you defeated a debate professor rather than a six year old.

"You're my second emergency contact." He looked unbearably pleased with himself. As though he'd just discovered a legal loophole.

You sighed. "That is not how this works."

"It is if I start crying." He grins.

"You wouldn't."

His eyes immediately began watering.

"Oh, for God's sake- fine, fine, fine!"

The assembly took place on a Thursday morning. You had skipped a lecture to be there. A decision you absolutely weren't regretting as you sat in an uncomfortable folding chair surrounded by parents.

Definitely not. Not even a little.

The gymnasium was packed. Children buzzed with excitement. Teachers ran around looking exhausted. A little girl dressed as a sunflower was already crying and smudging her seed makeup.

It was chaos.

"Teddy Lupin?" a woman sitting beside you asked.

You looked up. "Yeah!"

The woman smiled. "Oh, you're his mother."

The words hit you so unexpectedly that your brain short-circuited.

"No."

"No?" The woman looked awfully confused.

"No." You laughed awkwardly. "I'm not."

"Oh."

You should have corrected her.cYou should have explained. Babysitter. Family friend. Anything.

Instead, your head drifted toward the stage. Toward Teddy. Toward the little paper crown sitting crookedly on his head. Toward the seat beside you. Empty and reserved for Remus.

A faculty emergency had kept him away.

You'd watched him apologize to Teddy all morning.

Watched Teddy pretend not to care.

Watched Remus look heartbroken anyway.

"It's complicated," you decided on.

The woman nodded with a careful smile as if that explained everything.

Maybe it did.

The moment Teddy stepped onto the stage, he found you. Not his teacher. Not his classmates. You.

His entire face lit up. He waved both arms enthusiastically and showed off the crown you had made him days before.

You waved back. A teacher immediately pushed his hands down and he looked bothered but then... The performance began.

Teddy missed half his cues. Forgot two lines. Knocked over a cardboard tree. And somehow still managed to be the most amazing thing you had ever seen. You laughed so hard your stomach hurt and he laughed with you. By the end, you had nearly two hundred photos on your phone.

Half of them blurry. All of them precious.

Remus called before you even reached your car with Teddy in hand, a huge ice cream on his as you walked in the school's parking lot.

"How was it?"

You smiled. "You owe me another fifty dollars."

"What?" You can hear the smile on his voice.

"I sat through forty-five minutes of second graders singing off-key, I'm entitled to financial compensation."

A pause. Then:

"So it was good?"

You could practically hear the hope in his voice. You thought of the photograph you took earlier, now on your main wallpaper.

Teddy, grinning proudly from the stage. Paper crown crooked. Missing front tooth. The happiest, most perfect kid in the world.

"It was perfect."

The silence on the other end lasted a moment longer than it should have. "Thank you." Something in his voice made your chest ache.

"It wasn't a big deal, Remus."

"It was."

You leaned against your car as Teddy got inside. Suddenly unsure what to do with your hands. "What are you doing now?" he asked.

"Dropping Teddy at campus and then home... why?"

Another pause. Then: "Teddy wants to celebrate."

You laughed.

"Celebrate what?"

"This morning he said something about surviving elementary theatre."

"Fair."

"Would you...?" The hesitation surprised you. "Would you like to come to dinner?"

You should have said no.

You had reading to do.

Laundry.

Assignments.

A life outside of the Lupins.

Instead— "Only if Teddy picks the restaurant." Remus groaned.

"Oh no."

"What's wrong?" You frown, thinking for one terrible moment that dinner plans were cancelled.

"He likes that dinosaur-themed place."

"You say that like it's bad." You smile, getting inside the car and buckling Teddy's seatbelt.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Remus said gravely, "she's encouraging him!"

You spent dinner watching the performance's videos, laughing hysterically at Teddy making excuses for stepping on another boy's feet while dancing and how the choreography was super tough.

Much later, neither of you would be able to say exactly when you stopped feeling like Teddy's babysitter.

Only that, somehow, somewhere between dinosaur bandages, cardboard castles and bedtime stories, you had become part of the family. And nobody seemed particularly interested in giving you back.

Summer turned into autumn.

Autumn turned into winter.

And somewhere in between, you stopped knocking.

It had happened after Teddy came down with a stomach bug and Remus got stuck in traffic on the way home from campus. He'd handed you a spare key the next morning with a mumbled, "Just in case." You'd accepted it without much thought.

Months later, it still hung from your keychain.

"Technically," Remus had said once, watching Teddy color at the kitchen table, "you're only supposed to use it for emergencies."

Teddy didn't even look up from his crayons. "She lives here."

You nearly choked on your coffee. "I absolutely do not."

"You have a key."

"That doesn't mean I live here, Bubba. I got my own place-."

"You have pajamas."

"They're for sleepovers when you're too much of a baby to sleep alone when your dad's late!" You laugh

"You have a toothbrush." He doesn't take the bait. He will tolerate being called a baby if it is to prove a point.

"Teddy."

"You have your own mug." You opened your mouth. Then closed it again. Because annoyingly enough, the little traitor was right.

The mug sat beside the coffee machine every morning; a chipped blue thing with tiny stars painted around the rim. Nobody remembered how it had become yours. One day it simply had.

Much like the cardigan hanging over the back of the couch, the spare phone charger Remus had bought for you that now rested permanently plugged into the kitchen outlet. The blanket Teddy insisted belonged to you during movie nights. Little pieces of yourself scattered throughout the house.

Evidence. Proof.

Signs of a life quietly intertwining with theirs. Not that anyone seemed particularly concerned about it. Especially not Remus.

One evening, after a particularly miserable exam, you let yourself into the house and immediately dropped your backpack onto the floor.

"I'm dropping out."

"Hi, sweetheart."

Remus looked up from where he stood at the stove.

"You didn't even ask what happened." You groan, taking off your shoes and padding inside.

"You say you're dropping out at least twice a month." Remus laughs, handing you tea that was already waiting for you in the blue starry mug.

"I mean it this time."

"You meant it last time."

"And the time before that." Teddy chimes in.

"Exactly."

You narrowed your eyes. He smiled into his tea.

Teddy looked up from the table. "I think she's... bluffing!" You had taught him that word a month ago when he heard you singing a song and asked what 'bluffing' meant.

"Thank you, Theodore." Remus hums

"You're welcome."

And for a brief, stupid moment, standing there in your socks with your backpack abandoned by the door and the smell of dinner filling the kitchen, you forgot this wasn't your home. The realization came later.

Alone in your apartment, laying in bed and staring at the ceiling.

Thinking about the way Teddy had absent-mindedly reached for your hand while telling a story. The way Remus always made enough tea for two. The way neither of them seemed surprised when you showed up anymore.

Looking back, perhaps that should have worried you.

The ease of it all.

The way you slipped into their lives and they slipped into yours.

The way none of it felt temporary anymore.

The doorbell rang on a Thursday afternoon, sunset already bleeding in the sky.

Teddy was halfway through explaining why dinosaurs would perform terribly in modern society when Remus got up to answer it. "Don't move," he told his son.

"I wasn't planning to."

"That's what you said before climbing onto the garage roof."

"I was trying to help the bird... it was one time."

"One time too many." You laughed into your mug.

Remus rolled his eyes affectionately before disappearing into the hallway. The conversation at the table continued for all of ten seconds.

Then it stopped.

Not because of anything you could hear. Because of what you couldn't.

No footsteps.

No greeting.

No door closing.

Just silence.

A strange, heavy sort of silence.

The kind that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You exchanged a glance with Teddy. He frowned.

Then, from the hallway—

"Dora" Remus said in a broken sigh.

"Hello, Remus."

A woman's voice. Soft and familiar. A tiny bit broken around the edges.

The mug slipped slightly in your hands. Something crashed to a halt in the other room. For a moment, nobody spoke.

Then Teddy's chair scraped loudly against the floor. His eyes had gone impossibly wide as he ran to the hall.

"Dad?" The word hung in the air. A heartbeat later, another one followed. Small. Disbelieving. Hopeful.

"Mom?".

Remus' ex wife.

Teddy's mom.

It was hard to put an older face to the name. Remus had told you the whole story in one of your late-night kitchen conversations after a particularly harsh day at faculty, all broken and tired. A storm raged outside, and he basically forced you to stay there and use the couch. You'd found him sitting alone in the kitchen after midnight, grading papers with the thousand-yard stare of a man questioning every decision that had led him to academia.

"Bad essays?" you asked as you poured yourself some water.

"Worse."

You set your glass down beside him. "How bad?"

Remus looked up, grabbed the paper he was grading and read: "'The Industrial Revolution was important because industry was invented.'"

You winced. "That's rough."

"I nearly resigned." The laugh that followed faded quickly. He put down the pen and took off his glasses, running a hand through his sandy hair as he took a deep breath. Silence settled between you. Comfortable.

The kind that only existed after months of knowing someone.

Then, without really meaning to, your eyes drifted toward the photograph on the fridge. The same photograph you'd seen dozens of times.

A younger Remus. A baby Teddy. A woman with big eyes and pink hair.

"Was she funny?" The question escaped before you could stop it.

Remus followed your gaze. For a moment, he didn't answer.

Then... "Very."

You nodded then waited.

Eventually, he sighed. "You're curious."

"A little." you admit, the greenish water in your cup suddenly the most interesting thing in the room. God why did you have to be so nosy, the topic was clearly sensitive for the man and-

"Fair." He says before looking up "Her name's Nymphadora."

You immediately grimaced. "That's fucking criminal."

"It is." He laughs

"What kind of parent names a child Nymphadora?" I sigh

"The kind who hated her almost as much as she did."

That earned a genuine laugh. Then his expression softened. Not with longing. With memory. "She was loud."

You smiled. "Teddy had to get it from someone."

"Impossible not to notice when she entered a room." His fingers tapped absent-mindedly against the mug in front of him as he stared into the garden. "She loved Teddy."

You hesitated. Past tense. Loved.

Not loves.

Loved. The distinction settled heavily in your chest. "What happened?"

For a second, you thought he'd dodge the question like the many times Sirius made a joke about it during family dinners. Instead, he leaned back in his chair. Looking older suddenly. More tired.

"We had Teddy."

You waited. "And?"

"And she left." Just like that. No dramatic explanation. No elaborate story. Three words.

You frowned. "Just... left?"

"Pretty much." He scoffed but there was no anger in his voice. Which somehow made it worse.

"One day she told me she couldn't do it anymore." His eyes remained fixed on the table. "Couldn't do what?" You ask.

"Any of it... the house payment, the marriage, the responsibility."

You swallowed a small lump in your throat, scared to ask until you did "Teddy?"

A pause. Then: "Especially Teddy."

The words hit harder than they should have because they weren't cruel. Just honest. The honesty made them hurt.

"How old was he?"

"Six months."

You stared. Remus stared back into his tea.

"Some people aren't built for parenthood." You didn't know what to say. You were a dumb twenty something year old that could barely keep herself alive with campus meals and an awful sleep schedule. You couldn't judge the woman...

"So that's it?"

He laughed. A short, bitter thing. "No." The answer came immediately, almost still resentful. "No, that's not it."

For the first time that evening, genuine anger flashed across his face. Gone almost as quickly as it appeared. But it was there for the briefest second. "I spent years furious." The admission surprised you. Remus was a gentle man, in every sense of the word. He never yelled at Teddy even when he was in one of his moods, never cursed unless it was in good spirits and never once did you see him express anything but love and maybe, sometimes sadness. "I thought I'd done something wrong."

His jaw tightened. "I thought if I'd been a better husband she would've stayed."

The kitchen felt very quiet.

Then: "Eventually I realized it wasn't about me." A pause. "Or even about Teddy." Another. "She just didn't want this life." He says looking around at the house, his eyes fixated on Teddy's drawings hanging in the frigge.

You looked down at your tea.

Thought about the sleeping child upstairs. At the house built around you both. And for the first time, you understood why Remus looked so exhausted sometimes.

Because he'd spent years being both parents. Years picking up every piece she left behind.

"Do you hate her?" You mumble softly.

Remus was silent for a long time. Then he shook his head. "No." The answer sounded tired.

Not forgiving. Not yet. Just tired.

"I hate what happened." His eyes drifted toward the stairs. Toward Teddy's room. "I hate what it did to him."

A pause. "If she walked through that door tomorrow, I'd probably slam it in her face." You laughed softly.

"I'm serious."

"I know."

Another pause. Then: "But if Teddy wanted to see her..."

Remus closed his eyes briefly and you saw the fight leaving him all at once. "I'd figure it out."

And so that's why seeing this woman in the doorway, with Teddy clinging to her legs, surprised you so.

Remus was looking at the floor intently, breathing heavily, hand still in the door as Nymphadora walked inside and sat on the couch as Teddy hugged her. The sight makes your heart squeeze.

You remained rooted to your spot by the kitchen island as she finally acknowledged your presence. "Oh?" The single syllable nearly knocked the breath from your lungs.

You weren't stupid.

You knew exactly how this looked.

You were already in your pajamas curled up on a kitchen stool. A mug of tea cooling beside your phone as it charged from the wall outlet, your college bag rested carelessly beside the couch. The blanket draped over your lap belonged to the house. The blue, chipped mug in your hand did too. Slowly, painfully, you became aware of every trace of yourself scattered throughout the room.

The cardigan hanging over the back of a chair. The charger plugged into the kitchen wall. The half-finished crossword you'd abandoned on the coffee table.

Evidence.

Evidence everywhere.

The realization hit all at once. This wasn't your home. But God, it looked and felt like it was. Nymphadora's gaze swept across the room. Taking everything in. The tea. The blanket. The bag. You.

Something flickered across her face. Surprise. Confusion. Perhaps even understanding. You couldn't tell.

Suddenly you felt eighteen again. Awkward. Out of place. Caught doing something you weren't supposed to be doing and feeling incredibly embarassed about it.

"Teddy's babysitter." The words escaped before anyone could ask. You hated how quickly you'd said them. As though trying to justify your own existence. As though trying to explain why you were here.

Nymphadora blinked. Then smiled, a small one. Polite and distant. "Oh." The same thing she'd said before. Only this time it sounded different. You couldn't explain how, just that it did.

You looked at Teddy.

Then at Remus.

Remus still hadn't moved, and had barely spoken. The silence surrounding him felt strange. Heavy. Like a storm cloud sitting in the middle of the living room.

Nymphadora noticed too. Her smile faded slightly. "Hi, Remus."

Finally, his eyes lifted meeting hers for the first time. The room seemed to hold its breath. "Tonks."

Not Dora.

Not Nymphadora.

Not love.

Not anything affectionate.

Just Tonks.

The distance in a single syllable was almost impressive. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Years stretched silently between them. Then Teddy squeezed himself tighter against his mother's side. And whatever Remus had been about to say disappeared.

Because there it was.

The reason she was standing in his living room.

The reason he hadn't slammed the door.

The reason he probably never would.

Their son.

Of course you sleep in your place that night.

You stood, reached for your keys and your overnight bag. For the cardigan you'd left hanging over the couch weeks ago. For some reason, collecting your things felt different tonight. Like you were cleaning up after yourself. Like you were erasing evidence.

"Drive safe." Remus' voice caught you by surprise. You looked up and he was already holding the front door open.

The autumn air slipped inside. Cold against your skin.

"You too." The corner of his mouth twitched.

"I'm not driving anywhere."

"You never know." For a moment neither of you moved. The silence stretched. Not awkward.

You drove home in your pijamas and in spite of Teddy's pleas for you to stay to "meet his mommy together". The sentence made your blood boil and heart break at the same time. The sweet boy hadn't grown up with her, he didn't know her. He was just meeting her and it was the most heartbreakingly sad thing you had ever seen. How could he know her? And yet he loved her already.

The realization sat heavily in your chest during the drive home, not because Teddy was wrong but because he wasn't. She was his mother. Of course he wanted her. Of course he looked at her like she'd hung the moon. Of course he forgave her before she had even apologized. He was a child.

The next morning, you still went. Of course you did. Teddy had asked if you'd come back. You'd promised.

So you found yourself standing on the Lupins' doorstep shortly after ten in the morning with a bag of groceries balanced on your hip and a spare key in your pocket. The key felt heavier than usual. You knocked anyway out of habit.

The door swung open before you could use it. Teddy practically launched himself at you. "You came!"

You laughed as he nearly knocked you over. "I said I would."

"I know but sometimes adults lie."

"That's a concerning thing to say at eight in the morning."

"It's ten."

"Still concerning."

Teddy grinned then grabbed your hand and dragged you inside. The smile slipped from your face almost immediately. The kitchen smelled like pancakes, fresh ones. The dishes had already been washed. His favorite dinosaur cup had already been filled with juice.

And standing in the middle of it all was Nymphadora Tonks. As though she'd always belonged there. As though she'd never left.

"Oh!" she said brightly.

"Hi." You smiled automatically.

"Hi."

Teddy was already halfway through explaining something about velociraptors. Neither of you listened. For a moment, you simply stood there. Watching Nymphadora tying Teddy's shoelaces. Nymphadora reminding him to finish his breakfast. Nymphadora wiping syrup off his cheek.

Things you had done a hundred times. Things she should have been doing. The realization settled slowly.

Painfully like a bruise.

Nobody had asked you to leave. Nobody had told you that you weren't needed. And yet the space you'd occupied for years suddenly had an owner again.

You stayed for an hour. Maybe two.

Long enough to help Teddy build a blanket fort.

Long enough to laugh at one of his terrible jokes.

Long enough to realize you didn't know what you were supposed to do anymore.

When you finally stood to leave, Teddy frowned. "Where are you going?"

Home.

Nowhere.

Anywhere.

"I've got things to do."

"Like what?"

You opened your mouth.

Nothing came out. Because the truth was that college was out for winter break. You didn't have classes. You didn't have assignments. You didn't have work. You had planned on spending most of your vacation here. Movie nights and board games and helping Teddy build increasingly dangerous engineering projects. You hadn't realized how much of your life had quietly rearranged itself around theirs until now.

"Oh."

Teddy seemed unsatisfied by the answer. But Nymphadora smiled. "Let her go be a grown-up."

You laughed politely. Then left.

The drive home felt longer than it should have. The apartment felt smaller. Quieter. You spent three hours wandering aimlessly between rooms.

Started a book. Put it down.

Turned on the television. Turned it off.

Made tea and accidentally made enough for two. Forgot to drink both cups.

By two in the afternoon, you were considering taking a nap simply out of boredom when your phone rang. Remus.

You answered immediately.

"Hey."

A pause.

Then: "Please tell me you're free."

You sat upright. Something in his voice made your stomach drop.

"What happened?"

Another pause, longer this time.

When he finally spoke, he sounded exhausted.

"Teddy and Tonks had a fight."

You blinked. "A fight?" He's six years old how does he manage to-

"A spectacular one."

"What happened?"

Remus sighed heavily. "I think she tried to parent him."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

You winced. That explained everything. Teddy had never loved being told what to do from anyone who wasn't Remus. Or you. That aditional thought bothered you.

"Teddy yelled that she wasn't his mother." The words landed heavily. Painfully. You closed your eyes.

"Oh fuck."

Another silence.

Then: "He locked himself in his room." You were already reaching for your shoes. "And?"

"And apparently I'm raising a tiny dictator because he says he'll only come out if you talk to him." Your heart broke instantly somewhere between the front door and your car keys. Remus let out a tired breath. "He keeps asking for you."

And suddenly, for the first time all day, you knew exactly where you were supposed to be.

The drive to the Lupins' house took twelve minutes and you spent eleven of them trying not to imagine Teddy crying. The twelfth was worse. The house was quiet when you arrived.

Wrongly quiet.

Not the peaceful kind.

The kind that follows shouting.

Remus opened the door before you could knock. He looked exhausted.

"Where is he?"

"Upstairs."

You were already moving.

"Hey—" You paused halfway up the stairs. Remus rubbed a hand over his face.

"He won't talk to me." The admission sounded almost defeated. You softened immediately. "I'll try."

He nodded. The door to Teddy's room was closed. A small dinosaur sticker stared at you from eye level. You knocked once. Nothing. Twice. Still nothing.

"Teddy?"

Silence.

Then: "Go away."

You exhaled slowly. "No."

"Please." The word was so small and pleading it nearly broke your heart.

You rested your forehead against the door. "Teddy."

Nothing.

Then, after a moment: "...is it you?". Your throat tightened.

"Yeah, bubba s'me, open the door for me."

The lock clicked immediately. The door opened just enough for you to see one watery hazel eye. Then he launched himself at you.

Hard and nearly knocking the air from your lungs.

You caught him automatically. His face buried itself against your shoulder. And just like that, you knew.

Not because of what he said. Because of how tightly he was holding on. You had known fear like this before: the quiet kind.

The kind that settled in your chest after someone raised their voice. The kind that made you study every expression, every footstep, every slammed door. Trying to determine whether you were safe yet. You recognized it the moment Teddy looked up at you. "Hey."

His eyes were red, his chubby cheeks blotchy. A child trying very hard not to cry anymore. "Hey."

You sat down on the floor beside his bed and he immediately curled into your side. Neither of you spoke.

Sometimes there wasn't much to say.

A few minutes passed before he finally whispered "I was bad."

Your heart sank. "No bubba-" His fingers tightened in your sweatshirt.

"I was."

"Teddy."

"Mom said so."

The room seemed to tilt slightly. Not enough to knock you over. Enough. You chose your next words carefully. "What happened?" Teddy stared at the carpet. For a long time, you thought he wouldn't answer.

Then: "I spilled juice."

You blinked. "That's it?"

He shrugged. Small. Miserable. Ashamed.

"There was already juice on the floor."

"Okay."

"And then I dropped the cup."

You waited.

"And then she yelled." The words came out in a rush, as though saying them quickly would make them hurt less. You felt something twist painfully inside your chest.

Not anger.

Not yet.

Recognition. Children remembered yelling differently. Adults forgot that. Adults remembered the reason. Children remembered the sinking feeling.

"I think..." Teddy swallowed. "I think she hates me."

"Oh, sweetheart, no..." The words escaped immediately, before you could stop them. His eyes filled again. And there it was.

The thing he'd been carrying around all afternoon.

Not anger. Not even sadness. Fear. The awful certainty only children could have. The belief that one mistake could make someone stop loving them. You knew that feeling far too well. You gently brushed a hand through his hair.

"Listen to me." Teddy looked up. "If somebody gets frustrated, that doesn't mean they hate you."

He said nothing. "So what if she yelled?"

You smiled softly. "Then she shouldn't have yelled."

His eyes widened as though he hadn't considered that possibility. As though adults existed in a category where they were automatically right.

"No one gets to yell at you just because they're upset." The words surprised even you. They sounded older than you remembered being. Older than you felt. You swallowed. Then nudged his shoulder gently.

"But." Teddy sniffled. "But sometimes adults mess up just like kids do."

The room fell quiet. Downstairs, a floorboard creaked, someone moving around the kitchen. Probably Remus. Probably Tonks. Probably both.

Teddy leaned into your side. "You really came." The words were barely above a whisper. You closed your eyes briefly. Then pressed a kiss against the top of his head. "Always."

And somewhere downstairs, a chair scraped across the floor. As though someone had just sat down very suddenly.

You saw less and less of the Lupins after that.

At first, you told yourself it was temporary, an adjustment period.

Tonks and Teddy needed time.

Remus and Tonks needed time.

You were being mature about it. Reasonable.

Normal.

Then one week became two, two became three, and suddenly the absence had settled into something real. The strange thing was that nobody had asked you to leave. Not once.

Teddy still asked about you.

Tonks still invited you over.

Remus still texted occasionally: A photograph of a disastrous science project, a reminder to send him the name of a book you'd recommended, a complaint about faculty meetings. Small things. Ordinary things.

Which somehow made them worse, because every message reminded you that life was continuing without you. One evening, your phone buzzed while you were making dinner for one.

remus:): Do you remember how you got Teddy to eat broccoli?

You stared at the message.

Then laughed despite yourself, replying 'Blackmail'.

His reply arrived immediately.

remus:): I knew it.

You smiled, then stared at the screen long after the conversation ended because three months ago, you wouldn't have received that question through a phone. You would've been standing in his kitchen. Stealing vegetables from Teddy's plate. Listening to Remus complain about grading.

The distance hurt in ways you hadn't expected, not because you missed the house.

Because you missed him. Teddy or Remus you didn't know.

And apparently, he missed you too. Teddy or Remus you didn't know.

Then you realized it gradually, in the way his messages lingered or in the way he found increasingly ridiculous reasons to contact you... in the way conversations that should've lasted three minutes somehow stretched into forty.

One night he called. You answered without thinking.

"Hey."

"Hey."

Silence. Comfortable. Dangerous. You sat down on your couch.

"What happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"You only call when something happened."

A low, familiar laugh.

God. You missed that laugh.

"That's offensive."

"It's true."

Another laugh, then silence again. You waited.

Eventually: "I just wanted to hear your voice."

The room stopped. Not completely. Just enough. Long enough for your heart to stumble over itself. On the other end of the line, Remus went quiet too. As though he'd only realized what he'd said after saying it. Neither of you acknowledged it. Neither of you were brave enough. So instead he asked about your classes. And you let him. Because some things were easier to survive when they remained unnamed.

Later that night, long after the call ended, Remus sat alone in the kitchen. The house was asleep. Tonks upstairs. Teddy dreaming. A mug of tea cooling between his hands. For the first time in months, he allowed himself to admit it.

The house felt full again.

It should have been enough.

For a while, he thought it might be but every time something funny happened, he still reached for his phone. Every time Teddy did something ridiculous, he wanted to tell you. Every time he saw an article about your major's studies, he thought of you. And every time he opened the front door after work, a small part of him still expected to find you sitting on the kitchen island.

Waiting. The realization terrified him. Because Tonks had come home. And somehow, impossibly, he still missed you.

At first, Remus thought time would fix it because time fixed most things. Grief dulled. Anger softened. Old wounds scarred over. That was what people said, anyway. So he tried.

God, he tried.

He took Tonks to dinner and sat beside her during movie nights and listened when she talked about the years she'd spent away. About the jobs she'd worked, about the places she'd lived, about the mistakes she'd made.

He listened because she deserved that much. Because Teddy deserved that much. Because families weren't things you abandoned the moment they became difficult. Some evenings, he would look across the dinner table and see exactly what he had wanted for years.

Tonks laughing.

Teddy talking with his mouth full.

Three plates instead of two.

A family.

A complete one.

It should have made him happy.

Instead, there was always something missing. A fourth laugh. A familiar voice from the kitchen. Someone stealing fries from Teddy's plate. Someone sitting cross-legged on the counter while he cooked. The absence followed him everywhere.

One night, Tonks reached across the couch and took his hand. Remus nearly jumped not because he didn't expect affection but because he hadn't realized how long it had been since he'd wanted it. Tonks noticed immediately. Of course she did. She'd always been good at reading people.The smile she gave him afterward broke his heart. Not because it was sad. Because it was understanding.

Weeks passed. Then months. And somehow things became worse. Not better. He found himself dreading evenings. Dreading the moments when the house finally became quiet. Because that was when pretending became hardest.

Tonks would sit beside him... close enough for him to smell her shampoo, close enough that, years ago, he would have reached for her without thinking. Now he found himself staring at the television. Or his tea. Or literally anything else.

Anything but her.

One evening, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. A simple thing. Affectionate. Normal. Remus froze. The reaction lasted less than a second. Long enough. Tonks pulled away first.

The silence afterward felt endless.

"I'm sorry."

The words escaped before he could stop them. Tonks stared at him. Then laughed softly not because it was funny, because the alternative was crying.

"You don't have to apologize." The lie hung between them. Neither of them challenged it.

That night, long after she'd fallen asleep, Remus lay awake staring at the ceiling. The room was dark. The house silent. Beside him, Tonks shifted in her sleep. For a moment, he remembered being twenty-five.

Remembered loving her.

Remembered believing that was enough.

Then his mind drifted somewhere else. To a girl sitting on a kitchen island. To laughter. To dinosaur bandages. To someone who always stole his good pens. Remus closed his eyes. The guilt was immediate.

Crushing.

Because Tonks wasn't doing anything wrong. She was trying. Trying harder than she ever had before. And somehow he still found himself reaching for memories that weren't hers.

Two months later, he woke to an empty bed. At first, he didn't think anything of it. Tonks got up early sometimes. So did Teddy. The house remained silent. Strangely silent.

Remus frowned.

Sat up.

The other side of the mattress was cold. Not recently vacated. Cold. A knot formed immediately in his stomach. He stood. Pulled on a sweater. Walked downstairs. Nobody in the kitchen. Nobody in the living room. Then he saw it.

A folded piece of paper sitting beside the coffee machine.

His name.

Written in familiar handwriting. For one terrible moment, he already knew. His hands shook as he unfolded it.

Remus, I'm sorry.

The words blurred almost instantly. Not because he was crying. Not yet. Because he couldn't stop staring at them.

I'm sorry.

Again.

Always sorry.

Never staying.

He read the rest anyway: About not belonging here anymore. About how hard she'd tried. About how Teddy deserved better than a mother who had to force herself to stay. About how he deserved better too.

By the time he reached the end, his hands were trembling. The kitchen felt very far away. Very quiet. Footsteps thundered down the stairs.

"Teddy?" he called automatically. No answer.

Then: "Dad?"

The note slipped from his fingers.

Teddy appeared in the doorway wearing dinosaur pajamas. Still half asleep. Still smiling.

"Mom said we'd make pancakes today."

Remus forgot how to breathe. The smile disappeared immediately. Children always knew. Some instinct science was yet to figure out. Some horrible little instinct.

"Dad?" Remus swallowed. Hard. "Teddy."

The boy's face changed. Confusion. Then fear. Then understanding.

"No." The word came instantly. Before Remus had said anything. "No."

"Teddy—"

"No."

His voice cracked.

Small.

Desperate.

"No."

Remus crossed the room in two strides and caught him before he could run. Before he could fall apart. Before they both did. Teddy fought him for exactly three seconds with all his might. Then collapsed. The sob that left him sounded too big for a seven year old.

Remus held him tighter.

His own vision blurring. His own chest splitting open. Not because he'd lost Tonks, that grief felt known. Ancient. A wound reopened too many times to surprise him anymore. No.

The unbearable part was watching Teddy lose her again. And knowing he had no idea how to make it hurt less.

James takes Teddy for the afternoon. It isn't a difficult decision.

Harry adores Teddy.

Teddy adores Harry.

And James takes one look at Remus' face before saying, gently "I've got him."

Remus doesn't argue, doesn't have the energy. The house is silent after they leave and silence had never bothered him before but now it feels unbearable; Every room is full of ghosts. Tonks' coffee mug. Tonks' handwriting on the fridge. The blanket she'd used on the couch.

The things left after she left. Again.

By three in the afternoon, Remus is sitting on the kitchen floor not because he fell but because he couldn't make himself stand anymore. The note lies crumpled beside him. His tea has gone cold. The house won't stop being empty. And for the first time all day, he lets himself cry.

Not quietly.

Not dignified.

The ugly kind. The exhausted kind. The kind that comes after years.

Years of trying.

Of hoping.

Of being angry.

Then forgiving.

Then hoping again.

His phone buzzes in his pocket.

James. He ignores it. It buzzes again.

And again.

Finally, he answers.

"She's gone." The words come out broken. James goes quiet immediately. "Remus—"

"She's gone."

A laugh escapes him, a horrible one.

"Again."

Silence.

"Do you want me to come over?"

"No."

"Okay."

Another pause. "Who do you want?" The question catches him off guard because the answer arrives instantly, without thinking.

Without hesitation. Without permission.

You.

The realization hits like a punch, James hears the silence and understands immediately. Of course he does. Remus presses the heel of his hand against his eyes. Humiliating. Pathetic. True.

"Oh, mate." And somehow that's worse. James sounds sad, not surprised. Like he'd been waiting for Remus to figure it out.

The call ends ten minutes later. Remus doesn't remember how. The house remains silent, he stares at his phone, at your name for a long time. Then presses call. You answer on the second ring.

"Hello?"

And that nearly does him in. Just your voice. Familiar. Warm. Normal.

"Remus?"

Nothing. His throat closes completely.

"Remus?"

More urgent now, concerned. He then tries to speak. Fails. A horrible sound leaves him instead.

Not quite a sob.

Close enough.

The silence on your end lasts half a second.

"I'm coming over."

No questions. No hesitation. No explanation. Just certainty. The line goes dead and twenty-seven minutes later, you're standing on his front porch.

Remus opens the door before you can knock, one look at him and your heart breaks.

He looks awful.

Eyes red.

Face pale.

Exhaustion carved into every line.

For a second neither of you move.

Then you step forward and Remus folds. Not dramatically. Not romantically.

Just... Falls apart.

Like something inside him finally gave way. You wrap your arms around him automatically the same way you've done with Teddy, the same way you've done with frightened children and grieving friends and exhausted classmates.

And Remus lets you, for the first time, really lets you.

His forehead presses against your shoulder, his hands clutch the back of your sweater and suddenly he's crying again.

You don't say anything. You just hold him. The way he's held everyone else for years.

Eventually the storm passes. Not completely. Enough.

You end up sitting on the kitchen floor side by side.

The evening sun creeping through the windows, neither of you looking at each other.

"I tried." His voice is rough. Raw. "I really tried."

"I know." A laugh. Broken around the edges.

"God." He scrubs a hand over his face. "I wanted it to work."

You stare at the floor.

Unable to think of anything that doesn't hurt.

Then: "I know."

Silence settles between you, the way it always has been, comfortable.

The way it probably always will be.

And suddenly Remus is so tired of pretending. So tired of carrying it. So tired of saying everything except the truth.

"I missed you."

The words slip out quietly, honestly.

Your breath catches. Neither of you move. The kitchen feels very small suddenly. Very still. Remus laughs weakly.

"I know."

Another silence.

Then: "I know I shouldn't have."

Your eyes close. Because that's the problem. Because you've missed him too. Every day. Every fucking day.

"I know." His head finally turns, meeting your gaze.

Years of affection sitting quietly between you.

Years of almosts.

Years of choosing not to look too closely.

And suddenly neither of you have the energy for denial anymore.

Not after today.

Not after everything.

"I love you."

Exhausted.

Certain.

Like admitting the sky is blue. Like admitting something everyone already knows. For a moment, you simply stare at him.

Then your eyes fill. Because of course.

Of course.

The stupid, wonderful, impossible man.

"I know."

A laugh escapes him, wet and broken. "That wasn't the response I was hoping for."

You laugh too. The first real laugh all day. Then reach for his hand. Squeeze. And finally say the thing that's been true for a very long time.

"I love you too."

Years later, Teddy would remember two things about the day his mother left.

The first was the note.

The second was that you came the way you always had.

You came with groceries because Remus had forgotten to eat, you came with ice cream because Teddy had stopped talking.

You came because nobody asked you not to.

And because, despite everything, this was still the first place you thought of when someone said home. The months that followed were difficult. Teddy was angry. Then sad. Then angry again.

Remus spent a long time pretending he wasn't heartbroken, not because he'd lost Tonks, that grief had happened years ago. No. What broke him was watching Teddy wait. Watching him glance toward the door whenever the bell rang. Watching him check his phone on birthdays. Watching hope slowly become disappointment.

There were no grand speeches, no magical solutions. Just ordinary days. Homework at the kitchen table. Movie nights. School assemblies. Burnt pancakes. Life.

Life, stubborn and relentless, carrying all three of you forward whether you were ready or not.

One day, almost a year later, Teddy stopped waiting by the window. Neither of you mentioned it. The absence hurt enough, the next year, he forgot to ask if she would call on his birthday. That hurt too.

But less.

Healing often did.

The first time Remus told you he loved you, he was crying on the kitchen floor, the second time happened six months later while you were arguing over whether dinosaurs would survive modern society, the third happened while folding laundry, the fourth happened half asleep.

By the fifth, neither of you were counting anymore.

Love, it turned out, was rarely grand.

Mostly it was repetitive.

Choosing the same person over and over again. On purpose. Years later, you found an old photograph while cleaning.

Remus and Teddy and you. A cardboard castle. The roof half collapsed. Tape everywhere.

You smiled immediately.

Teddy, now significantly taller than either of you liked to admit, glanced over your shoulder. "God."

You laughed. "What?"

"I was so weird." He sighs.

"You built a dragon fortress out of Amazon boxes."

"I know." He cringes.

"You made me wear a cardboard princess hat."

"I know." He groans.

"You bit me."

Teddy looked thoughtful. Then nodded. "Yeah." The lack of remorse after all these years was astonishing. You showed him the photograph anyway. Teddy stared at it for a long moment.

At himself.

At his father.

At you.

The smile that crossed his face was soft. Almost nostalgic.

"You know..."

"What?"

He pointed at the picture, at the three people squeezed together inside that ridiculous cardboard castle. And said, with complete certainty:

"This was always my family."

The room went quiet. Across the kitchen, Remus looked up from his book. You felt your throat tighten. Teddy didn't seem to notice. Or maybe he did. Maybe that was why he'd said it.

He grinned suddenly. Then ruined the moment completely.

"Also, I still think biting you was a good idea."

You threw a dish towel at his head.

Remus laughed. Teddy laughed harder.

And surrounded by the noise of the life you had built together, you found yourself laughing too.

The first time Teddy Lupin bit you, he left a mark on your hand.

Years later, neither of you had any idea he'd leave one on your life.

author's note: holy fucking shit this is so long im so so sorry i had a dream and had to write it out!!!! hope u enjoyed my lovelies! thanks for reading. ASKS ARE OPEN!!! I write for pretty much any fandom so feel free to ask over there <3

[tulaimesbienalors]

“they aren’t real”

yea right

me and remus lupin after the staircase scene

[amnmesias]

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐬𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader

word count: 12.1k

summary: It’s a good love, you keep telling yourself. It’s good love that you can’t let slip away. Your boyfriends love you, you know they do. You’ve never been so in love… So why does it feel like grief? 

tags: fem!reader. no war au. established relationship? lots of hurt with delayed comfort. inspired by olivia rodrigo’s new album.

a/n: so… is this anything? 

—

The thing about your relationship with Remus and Sirius is, well, that it’s not conventional. It’s still something frowned upon by many people, and one that you can’t just search up advice for on books. Not when it’s relatively new, and something that you can’t easily come to your friends for advice when they don’t know what you’re talking about half of the time. So trying to rationalize the loneliness that you feel is mostly pointless. And, objectively speaking? An absurd reason to cry about. 

So you stay silent. 

You stay silent when Remus is nasty and easily irritable before a full moon. Not to you. Never to you. But the signs of his discomfort are always there. Maybe not clear at first, but Sirius knows. And it’s nice to know Remus has someone that can help him so well as he does. So you stay silent, because he’s in good hands. Sirius knows what he’s doing. And maybe they’re right, it’s for your own good. 

So you stay silent. 

You stay silent when Sirius comes home from work, when he’s stressed and sad and frustrated, when things don’t go as he hoped, when Regulus once again turns down his help to escape Grimmauld Place. But he’s kind, and lovely to you and Remus. Accepts dinner with a kiss to your cheek and listens about your day even when it’s clear he’s in his own head. Gears turning and turning to try and find a way to help Regulus, to lessen Remus’ burden and, maybe, to be more present for you. So you stay silent when you offer to help, maybe a shoulder to cry on, he only smiles and shrugs it off. 

So you stay silent… until things change. And suddenly there’s a fresh bouquet waiting for you after work. Suddenly Remus’ knee isn’t troubling him as much. Suddenly you can sit down and enjoy a homemade meal, and there’s no reason for you to feel so sad. There’s no reason for you to be sad, so you only swallow it down and accept their kisses. Silent and happy that they’re home. 

Until another full moon comes, or a call from Regulus in fear that things have escalated again. Or your boss has decided you’re too valuable for your job to let you go. Hours rise, missed moments, you stay silent because it’ll pass. Everything’s still fresh, you need to find your footing between them, and you can’t expect them to fully settle into this relationship when life itself won’t let them. It’s fine. You’re patient, you’re learning, and so are they. Because you know they love you, and you love them. So you wait, you stay silent and take what they give you— 

“I don’t know, love,” Lily murmurs, eyebrows twitched together as she listens to you. She sets another folded blanket aside before looking up at you. “Doesn’t sound healthy to me.”

“It’ll get better,” you assure her again, almost distractingly as you trace idle patterns on baby Harry’s head. He’s finally managed to fall asleep, maybe James is right and your touch is godsend. 

When you look up, trying to share a triumphant smile with Lily, she’s got a look that makes it dim. Not that it was very wide, they barely get to your ears lately. Your smiles come and go, but they never stay long enough. 

Of course, you don’t let it linger too much. “Don’t worry about me, Lily,” you whisper, rising to your feet with Harry in your arms. The baby boy doesn’t rouse, nor does he wake as you lower him to his cradle. “I’ll be fine, yeah?”

Lily nods, watching as you kneel low enough to continue tracing figures on Harry’s hand, his little cheeks and forehead. Touch featherlight and lips twitched into a fond little smile, smaller and smaller as time goes on. 

“I know you will,” she says after a long silence. “It’s just, y/n… you seem so sad for a girl so in love.”

You don’t answer, and Lily stands to go and put the blankets away. But her words hang in the air. Heavy in your chest and clinging to you even after you leave. Even when you get home to the lights on, hope flickering inside of you as you unlock the door. Even when you walk into the flat to see Remus and Sirius cuddled up on the sofa after a trying day. Even when you smile and offer each of them a cup of tea. Even when Sirius scoots a little to the side to make space for you. Even when, in his deep slumber, Remus reaches for your hand under the thick blanket. Even when you wake the next morning, and they’re gone. 

The flat is warm, and they’ve left you a freshly made cup of coffee on the kitchen table. Probably Remus. With a note. big day at the ministry, had to rush. see you at dinner? love you. sirius xx. You set it down, next to the fresh bouquet and drink your coffee in silence.  

You go through the motions right after. Put on a relaxing record on Sirius’ turntable, light on a candle and hope the lavender helps Remus’ migraines when he comes home. You tidy a bit between sips and changes of outfits, and pluck a flower from the bouquet to use as a bookmark before leaving the flat to go to your own job. 

It’ll pass, you tell yourself. Maybe being sad is a downside that no one tells you about being in love. A secret code that you must discover yourself. Whatever it is, you won’t let it taunt this, because it is a virtue to not let good love slip away. Because it is, even if it’s unhealthy or sad at times—you know, deep in your bones, that this love is good. So maybe staying silent and enduring a bit of uncertainty is a little frustrating, but is nothing compared to the love you know they feel for you. And you feel for them.

At work, you busy yourself being useful. Even if it’s a bit boring at times. Marlene makes a joke that the girl working at the Level 6 coffee shop has a massive crush on her, you pile on with your coworkers that maybe she’s just nice and has nothing to do with Marlene being a retired Quidditch star. Dorcas comes down to visit at some point and steals her away, and you have a stretch of free time where busying yourself being useful isn’t doing the trick anymore. 

Then, Sirius comes down from his Wizengamot meeting with a tense posture but a smile to ease any stress away. He kisses you and flirts with you before dragging you out for a quick lunch, claiming he’s famished and that maybe you should stop by Level 4 to coax Remus out of his cubicle. You let him, swallowing down questions about his meeting knowing well he’ll say it went well because he doesn’t want to worry you. You share a smoke outside the café after lunch, fussing over Remus and the upcoming full moon and how you shouldn’t worry about it because it’s the least they want for you. He dips you low with a long and sweet kiss before saying goodbye. You don’t ask where he’s going, knowing he’s meeting up with Regulus.

You do walk back inside the café to order a quick lunch for Remus, they wrap it warm and ready for you to drop it off at his cubicle on your way to yours. He looks up from his work, stressed and easily irritable. But never to you. You know it’s the full moon, and his migraines, so you kiss his head and wish him a good day before taking the elevator back to your level. 

Remus goes to find you hours later, looking apologetic and wondering if he can spend his lunch hour with you. You pretend to be casual about it, smiling and preparing two cups of tea for you instead of making it a big deal. To not make it so obvious, how you take whatever they give you. A shared smoke, a shared lunch—small stretches of time of their days before you have to return home. Alone. 

You water the flowers, you change into comfortable clothes and put on a film while you wait for them to return. It’s still early, anyway. The book Remus has been trying to read is on the coffee table, and maybe he won’t mind if you start reading it yourself. He hasn’t touched it in weeks, maybe if he sees you read it he’ll get out of his slump. You don’t get much into the book, but it’s nice. It’s nice to feel connected to him, somehow. 

The night stretches, and you make dinner for three. Leaving their plates on the counter ready to heat up for them to eat, it’s okay. You can sit with them while they debrief about their day, they’ve already told you that it’s okay to eat before them if you’re hungry. You bring dinner to the living room, and a small glass of wine. One you mentioned in passing to love and the same one Sirius stocked you up the next day. The film you choose is barely entertaining, but the thematic cores still make you cry. 

They come home later, together and very tired. Sharing murmurs and whispers, apologies about being away from each other and you for the entire day. Ready to share a small stretch of time before heading to bed. But all they find is a lavender candle on, Sirius’ wine and two glasses at the table, and their plates ready to heat up. It’s nearly midnight, and they know because of your calendar on the fridge that you have an early meeting tomorrow, so they eat in silence knowing you’re sound asleep in the room. Aware that you fell asleep waiting for them. 

₊˚⊹ ᢉ𐭩

The next morning, you don’t go to work. There’s no meeting. Or at least that early in the morning. Not like you’ve written down in your calendar. You prepare coffee for three, and water the flowers and write them a little note for them to find when they wake up. big meeting today! wish me luck, can’t wait to tell you all about it later. i love you. yn xx. The flat is silent, but smelling like coffee and lavender when you close the door behind you. 

You head directly to St. Mungo’s, to find a healer that can tell you what’s wrong with you. You’ve searched up symptoms, possible outcomes to your uneasiness and why you keep feeling the way you do. Desperate to fix whatever’s wrong with you and do it quickly, erase it before they can notice it. Before they can realize they’re what’s wrong with you. 

So when the healer says you’re fine, you stay silent. You nod and let her go on about possible reasons, work, maybe hormones, maybe you’re coming down with something. You stay silent and accept her instructions for a few potions that could help, thank her on your way out and head directly to the Ministry. 

When it’s lunchtime, your heart does a somersault when you step out of your cubicle to see them step out of the elevator. Remus holds the flowers when it’s obvious Sirius can’t, carrying various takeout containers from your favourite restaurant near the flat. You try not to be so obvious, how pathetically happy you feel by their presence. You try to push down your need to cling, to cling to them and accept their kisses and the way they listen to your made up stories about the meeting. In return, you try, maybe, with the confidence of this olive branch, to ask them about their endeavors. If Remus needs you to run to the shop for any wolfsbane or other potions he might need. If Sirius maybe wants company the next time he has to talk to Regulus. 

So when they turn it down, brush down your help and claim you shouldn't worry about them, that it’s too much and heavy for you to bear, you stay silent. You smile and continue eating and answering their questions about your day. You nod and laugh at their jokes and try not to cling to hope when they leave with a kiss each and a promise to see you later at James and Lily’s for Harry’s six months celebration. 

When Marlene returns from her own lunch break, you only suppress the weight on your chest. You smile and fill her in on your surprise visit, you ask her questions in return and she answers with a smile that rings the alarms in your head.

“What?”

She hums, turning in her chair. “Nothing, s’just… are you okay?”

You frown. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just…” she scratches her eyebrow. Her nervous tell. “you just told me your boyfriends surprised you with flowers and a whole banquet for lunch, and yet you sound like someone ripped your heart out.”

You ignore the way her words feel like a crack in your heart, knowing they come out of a place of love and worry. “Have you been talking to Lily lately?”

Marlene sits straight. “Should I?”

“No.” You say immediately, turning to your desk and resume working. “I meant about Harry. Did she say what time we should be there?”

“Uh…” she looks around. “y/n.”

“I think I’ll get there earlier. Harry’s been a tad fussier lately and,” you go on, stream rolling any of her attempts to reroute the conversation to your obvious, apparently to everyone but yourself, sadness. “I’m sure she’ll need help setting everything up.”

Before she can speak, you make up a quick excuse to run to the loo. Marlene watches you go, knowing you’re not going to the loo. Not when you’ve taken your wallet with you. She only returns to her work and covers for you when your boss walks by and notices you’re not at your desk. 

You don’t go to the loo. You slip out of the Ministry and head towards Diagon Alley, desperate enough to bypass any worries that someone might recognize when you step into the apothecary with the healer’s written instructions. You buy your potions and drink them in a rush, hoping they’ll ease whatever’s wrong with you before tonight. When you return to your desk, Marlene asks you about work, and you return to your normal routine before clocking out.

Before heading to the Potter’s, you stop by the flat to change quickly and collect Harry’s gift. You suck in a nervous breath before pushing the door open, knowing it’s useless to hope but doing it anyway when you step inside. It’s exactly how they must’ve left it in the morning. The mugs are cleaned and set up on the cupboard. You put them where they belong, knowing it’s an easy mistake to make. You take the old bouquet and replace it with the new one and walk into your room to change. 

You take time picking your clothes, and pretend it’s not for them. You freshen up and collect Harry’s gift before walking out of the flat, heading towards the Potters with a weight on your chest that dissipates slowly with every step closer to the cottage. Before knocking, you suck in a breath and put on your best smile. Or what you hope is genuine enough. 

It’s okay, though. Because James opens the door with Harry in his arms, and the pain disappears almost magically. James makes small talk, knowing what he’s trying to tiptoe around and not giving him reasons to worry. Work is fine. Remus is doing better, his knee isn’t troubling him that much lately. I think Sirius had a small breakthrough with Regulus, I heard he’s accepted to look for flats. Me? I’m okay. I can’t believe Harry is already six months old. Just the usual. When Lily joins the conversation, sending you a knowing look, you go silent. 

Good thing Harry loves to fill your silences. A quiet and absurdly funny agreement you somehow managed to create with him. He gargles and giggles at you, holding your hand and asking you to walk him around the cottage like a glorified chauffeur. 

When the rest of the guests arrive, one by one, you pretend to be busy helping Lily make sure nothing’s missing when you poke your head out the kitchen every time the door opens. Hoping. Hoping. Hoping. Even if you tell yourself it’s just a matter of practically, checking who’s missing before setting plates out. You’re definitely not waiting for them to cross the threshold. 

Except, when they do, you barely notice. 

Harry has forced you to sequester yourself to his nursery to help him sleep. Candles have been blown, pictures have been taken and gifts opened, the baby is tired and Lily is too happy and cheerful with the festivities to make her leave. So you offer to put him to sleep. You trace idle patterns on his forehead, touch tender and featherlight; your fingertip travels from his eyebrows to his little nose and cheek and up again. He falls asleep not long after and you return to the party feeling a tiny bit lighter. 

“There you are, m’love.” Sirius says as soon as you climb the last step. Your heart picks up rhythm, tugging towards him where he meets you in the middle. When he plants a kiss on the side of your face, you feel stupidly teary. “I thought you went home.”

“I was with Harry,” you explain, savoring the way he hugs you. Selfishly, almost. But quick, too quick. You school your expression before it can give you away as he steps away. “Took a bit, but he’s sound asleep.”

“Thank you!” James calls out from the living room. “It’s almost a miracle how quickly you can put him to sleep.”

“She truly has the magic touch,” Sirius says agreeably, tucking you to his side. “Don’t you, love?”

“I think so,” you shrug, smiling a bit. 

“You do.” Remus says, reaching for you in the same way your heart stutters with hope. With love and affection and everything that has been craving. “Hi, saved you a piece of cake while you were upstairs.”

You blink, dazed and overwhelmed by their presence. “Oh. Thank you,” you accept it, wiggling your fingers before setting a hand out and hiding the way they shake. Remus is too busy kissing your cheek in greeting to notice, and you’re eating the cake before he can start paying attention. “When did you get here?”

“A while ago,” Sirius answers, tugging you with him towards the living room for the empty loveseat they’ve left for you. He smiles as he sits, eyeing you appreciatively. You try to control the way your heart flutters. “You look lovely.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course,” he pats the empty spot beside him, a funny lilt to his tone. “You always do. Doesn’t she, Moons?”

“She does,” Remus agrees readily, sitting down on the armrest by your side. His arm comes around your shoulders, without thought. It’s too much. “Is this the new dress you were talking about?”

You clear your throat. “Yeah. Got it the other day on my way from work.”

Remus hums appreciatingly, too. You look down at your cake, knowing how intoxicating their combined appreciation and affection can be. 

“y/n?”

You look away, searching for whoever’s calling for you. “Hm?”

Lily gestures at you from the bannister. “I think Harry woke up, can you… help me?”

“Of course,” you nod, standing up. Sirius wordlessly accepts your half eaten cake, frowning when he feels a light tremor in your fingers when they brush. “I’ll be right back.”

“Sure thing, dovey.” Remus nods, sliding down the armrest to take your vacated seat. Sirius wordlessly makes room for him as the conversation picks up again.

You climb the stairs with a knot in your chest.

When you get to the top, you’re surprised by how silent it is. No wailing Harry, not even fussing with discomfort. Complete silence, and Lily studying you quietly. Almost worryingly.

“What is it?”

“Do you need a couple of minutes?” she asks instead. 

“What?” 

“y/n…”

“I don’t. I’m okay.” You say quickly, feeling indescribably irritated by the interruption. For being dragged away from your boyfriends. “I’m fine.”

“Just—”

“Lily. I know, I know, okay?” you take a step back, down the stairs. “But I’m fine, I promise. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I sort of do, love. You’re… well—”

“I’m fine,” you repeat. With finality. “Thank you, though.”

Before she can speak, you turn around to rejoin the festivities. Remus doesn’t move from the spot, but he does reach for you to sit on his lap. Not quite between them, just there. The conversation goes on smoothly, Lily climbs down a moment later and you feel guilt gnaw at your insides when your gazes meet. She sends you a reassuring smile before sitting down. 

At some point, Remus stands, claiming his knee is troubling him from sitting down all day. He drops a placating kiss to your shoulder before you can ask, or offer to go home. Sirius reaches for your hands when you’re back to his side, threading your fingers together and bringing your joined hands to his lap, then his chest. You feel drunk and happy and overwhelmed all at once. You don’t mind the way Remus shrugs down your help with his knee, not when he doesn’t pull away like other times. Maybe… maybe things are changing. 

As the night stretches and you say goodbye to your friends, the three of you go home with tension lingering between you. It grows and grows the more they touch you, the more they kiss you and the more you wish you could just go home and let them properly love you. And that they do. Careful and slow and steady and gentle and everything you had wanted for months. They kiss you and hold you and caress you until you’re spent and tired. You shower and share kisses and return to bed hours later into the night, even when the sun is beginning to peek between the clouds. You climb between them after returning from the kitchen, setting the mugs and the coffee grounds in hopes of sharing a quick breakfast before heading out for work. Sirius reaches for you in his sleep, and you fall asleep content and more in love than ever. 

When you wake, there’s a steaming cup of coffee on the nightstand, and two empty spots by your sides. The note by your alarm clock goes to your purse along with the rest. emergency situation at grimmauld place. will not be back until tomorrow cos of the full moon. we love you, s&r xx. You return to bed and cry yourself to sleep, or at least until your alarm goes off. Then, you’re off to work. 

₊˚⊹ ᢉ𐭩

After work, you go to the healer again, and you leave St. Mungo’s with an even heavier weight on your chest and a note with a number for a muggle healer. The mind kind. The kind that, according to her, would be of more help than anyone at that hospital. You shove the number deep inside your purse and go home. 

You go through the motions; tidy a bit, prepare everything for Remus, leave his potions and remedies at hand next to his side of the bed. You change the sheets again and stock up on tea and sweets. You go to a corner shop and look for the specific kind of biscuits Sirius likes, because you know he’ll be exhausted and fragile after handling whatever emergency at Grimmaul Place with Regulus and then the full moon. Then stop for the apothecary again for wolfsbane and more potions your healer instructed you to take whenever you resorted “to feeling wrong” again. You shove the potions deep inside your purse and return to the flat. 

When you get to the floor, you’re surprised to find the door lightly ajar, only one push does it to let you in. You look around, categorizing the little ways you can help. But your boyfriends have made quick work of the things you’ve left out for them. The tea has been prepared, the gauzes used and the jar of wolfsbane has been emptied and left to be on the kitchen sink. You venture deep inside the flat, not even shredding your coat or purse or boots before tiptoeing inside your room.

Sirius looks up from the edge of the bed where he’s setting a damp cloth over Remus’ head. Cold for his migraines. He makes you a silencing gesture before standing up, arm coming around your waist to guide you out the room and closing the door behind him.

You can’t help it, you still ask. “How is he?”

“He’s been better,” he answers. The same as always. Vague enough to not worry you further. “Where were you?”

“Went to… uh,” you blink. Mind going blank. Sirius frowns, bending sideways to search for your gaze when it takes you a bit to answer. You clear your throat. “Sorry, um, I went to get wolfsbane. I didn’t know if we had any left so…”

His shoulders slump. “Oh, my love,” he hugs you. And it’s pathetic how you nearly melt into his arms. “you shouldn’t have. It’s too expensive, you know I always cover that.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Still,” he squeezes you tight before letting go. You feel uncomfortably teary when he takes a step back. “You shouldn’t worry about this. I know you, it’ll make you sick with worry.”

You almost laugh. But the sound could wake Remus up, and honestly, you don’t feel like laughing. Not really. So you stay silent, and let Sirius hug you again. 

Once again, you hate yourself for asking. “Is…” you clear your throat. “Is Regulus okay? What happened?”

Like clockwork, Sirius steps back. He cups your face in his hands. “He’s okay,” he answers, but you know it’s mostly a lie. His throat bobbles like he’s pushing down something else. “Just… a bit of a false alarm. But he’s okay. Nothing to worry about.”

You take it for what it is. And you stay silent, nodding and pushing down the lump in your throat when he kisses your forehead. This time, you don’t feel your heart cracking when he steps back, eyes flickering to the room like he wants to check on Remus. You wordlessly take a step aside, letting him know it’s okay before turning to walk out the door. A full moon routine—stock up, come home, do a quick check up and pretend it’s your own decision to go outside to clear your head. Knowing Remus doesn’t want you to see him like this. You leave with a heavy heart and the same question you ask yourself every full moon, why does Sirius get to stay and not you? But now, with an equally heavy purse, you leave with an additional realization that maybe they’re what’s wrong with you.

₊˚⊹ ᢉ𐭩

It’s the end of the month, and the Ministry is a mess, everyone’s running around and getting work done, struggling to finish on time and ultimately staying extra hours to get the job done. Which means that they’ve seen less and less of you. Even if, funnily enough, things have gotten better. 

Regulus has successfully moved out of Grimmauld Place, signing a lease for a small home near Diagon Alley and turning his back to the Black Legacy. Remus has been promoted at his cubicle job, less hours and more perks. The past full moon was a cruel one but according to his calculations it won’t come back until a few more years in a strange astronomy breakthrough. Things look up for them now, but now you’re not there to be on the receiving end of said good news. 

They see you in passing between shared lunches and surprise visits, sharing kisses when you run through each other in the hallways and pretend they’re not going home to an empty flat. 

It isn’t until Marlene accidentally walks in on you crying in the Level 10 bathrooms that it’s collectively decided that something needs to be done. In the moment, though, all she manages to come up with is an elaborate excuse to get you out of the Ministry and back home before marching to Level 4 and not being at all surprised when Sirius is already there with Remus. Not even casual, just straight up flirting.

“You heartless little shits,” she gripes. 

Sirius twists, flashing her a grin. “To what do we owe that lovely moniker?”

“Don’t act so charming, Black,” she snaps. There’s genuine anger in her tone to make him falter, even Remus sits straight in his chair. 

“What’s the problem with you?” he frowns, never one to back down from a challenge. “Are you even allowed out of your desk? With all the work you’re supposed to be doing?”

“And how are you supposed to know that?”

Sirius scoffs good naturedly. “Have you forgotten?” he leans back on the edge of the desk, stealing a sip from Remus’ tea. “We’ve got the loveliest insider keeping tabs on you.”

Marlene bristles. Actually bristles. “I just found this ‘lovely insider’ crying at the deepest level of this fucking building.”

Remus stands. “What?”

“When? Now?” Sirius pushes himself to stand.

She scoffs. “Now you want to know?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I won’t explain to you what you’ve been too blind to notice,” she snaps, all sharp edges and barely controlled fury. “Go home. Now.”

Remus reaches for his coat, not even stopping to think how this might look to his boss. They’re out of the Ministry in record time, not even taking the walk home and straight up using the Floo Network to get to the flat. Hearts up their throats and a heaviness that, finally, matches the one you’ve been carrying for months. 

Except, when they get home, it’s empty. Exactly how you left it that morning. The brand new flowers at the center of the kitchen remain damp and recently watered, the mugs have been washed and put away in their respective shelves. But you’re nowhere to be seen. You must’ve taken the long way home. 

Sirius exhales deeply, slumping on the couch. He runs a hand through his face, calm at first before it turns cruel and painful. He rubs at his eyes and presses his heels until he sees stars, until Remus crosses the living room to guide them away. They share a silence, acutely aware of how deafening your absence is. 

“She’s been quiet lately.” Remus murmurs, pacing around the coffee table. He takes the book at the center, under the candle and one he recognizes. One he’s been meaning to read for months. “Quieter than usual.”

“I thought it was because of her weird boss but…” Sirius trails off. “Fuck, I don’t know.”

Remus drops a kiss to his head, thumbing at his loose hairs before standing straight. “We’ll talk about it, yeah?” he says, soft and gentle despite his own nerves. “Now we wait for her to get home. It won’t be long.”

“I wish she would stop insisting on taking the tube.”

“You know how she is.”

“Yeah, I know,” he sighs, dropping his face to his palms. “She’s probably having an off week at work.”

“I’ll prepare the bath for her, when she returns,” Remus says, voice echoey as he walks down the hallway and into the room. “Set out her comfies and make sure she feels better when she returns.”

Sirius stands, feeling torn with guilt and hopeful with purpose. He makes himself useful around the living room while Remus prepares the room for you, tidying a bit and setting everything for a quick dinner and a few cups of coffee or tea. He waters the bouquet and makes a mental note to get you a fresh one tomorrow. 

It isn’t until he’s walked a few laps around the flat that he notices Remus has gone awfully quiet in the room. 

He starts towards the hallway. “Hey, Moons. You think I’ve got time to run to—” he halts by the threshold at what he sees. Remus sits by the edge of the bed. Your side, usually. The drawer under the bed is open and he’s hunched over himself, running a hand through his forehead as he reads off various notes and pages. Sirius frowns. “What is it?”

Remus shakes his head once, clearing his throat before turning the crinkled page towards him. “Did you know anything about this?”

“What is it?”

“Healer’s instructions.”

Sirius feels the floor giving out under him. “What? Yours?” he asks, stupid really. He knows Remus would rather suck it up and suffer than go to St. Mungo’s, and, last time he checked, he hasn’t stopped by, either. And the only person they could belong to— “No.” 

“They’re from different dates.” Remus goes through them. Stacked together with a few potions’ instructions and the notes they’ve left for you. The first ones. “For fuck’s sake.”

“What is it?”

Remus doesn’t answer at first, but his posture has tensed up. He reads and reads and reads like the pages would change contents, turning them over and going through each before handing them over to Sirius to read. Trouble sleeping. Loss of appetite. Sleeping too much, or sleeping too little. Shortness of breath. Then, the notes. He runs a hand through his face, hand shaking and heart heavy. saw you in passing on my way out of the ministry, you looked really lovely today. love you. sirius xx. thank you for the chocolates dovey. they really help. love, remus xx. Notes and notes and more notes. It isn’t until he gets to the very last one, that he feels his heart being cracked open, to pieces and completely torn. Treatment options, Janus Thickey Ward or— 

He looks up, frowning at the ripped corner. “Or what?” 

Remus shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“How,” he goes through the notes again. Reading and rereading, trying to understand the words and somehow make them fit into you—surely they would’ve noticed? Right? “How didn’t we notice?”

“I thought…” Remus looks away, hunching over his knees. He runs a cruel hand over his face, elbows digging into his knees as he tries to think. “Fuck.”

Sirius paces around the room and ignores the fact that he’s left the tea to go cold in the kitchen. He sets the notes aside, on the dresser and away from his sight before doing a full turn out the room. Towards the foyer, with a shaking hand, he reaches for his jacket. Steps follow and a scarred hand is holding him back, stopping him from taking another step out the door.

“I’m going to look for her, Remus.”

“And do what?”

“She can’t be alone. It’s late, she—”

“She could be anywhere, how do you plan to find her?”

Sirius steps away. “And what do you suggest we do? Wait?”

Remus only nods, jaw tight. “Yes,” he says plainly. Eyebrows furrowed and face cracked open with guilt. “We wait for her to get home and try to talk to her.”

So they wait. 

They make themselves useful, tidying the living room and cleaning the cupboards. Sirius starts on the tea again and completely ignores the flower vase, staring back at him like the proof of what they’ve done. Remus only lays down the clothes on the bed, neat and clean. He folds the notes and the pages carefully and puts them back inside your drawer, chest heavy with guilt at his blindness and for finding them in the first place. They wait and wait, they make dinner and pretend it’s normal for you to take this long to get home. They wait and shower and get into their own pajamas to wait for you. 

₊˚⊹ ᢉ𐭩

When you return, it’s hours later. Long into the night. You look exhausted and awfully sad. Resigned, almost. It’s too late, and Remus and Sirius have fallen asleep waiting for you. The tea remains untouched, the bath goes cold and you change into your comfies in silence before settling on your side of the bed. You fall asleep crying, knowing you’ll wake up to empty sheets and an even emptier flat. A new note if you’re lucky. 

Except, when you wake. They’re there.  

You don’t open your eyes at first, they feel heavy and you give yourself a couple of minutes to start waking up. It’s still early, your alarm isn’t set to go off until a couple of hours. Maybe they’re having an early morning, a head start on the day before work. You lie on your back, staring at the ceiling and aware that the bed is empty but the flat isn’t. 

Maybe if you go into the living room, you might have a couple of minutes before they’re set to leave. Maybe you can have a quick breakfast, or a small lie in. Maybe Sirius would let you sleep a little on the sofa with him before Remus wakes him up and scolds him for being late again. Maybe you can bring your makeup to the living room and get ready while they drink their coffee?

You glance at the door, seeing their shadows under the sliver of light. Maybe today you’ll let them be. It’s okay, you tell yourself, you’ll talk to them later at dinner. You’ll try to do what the muggle therapist advised you to do and talk to them, maybe you’ll stop by the café on your way out of work for a few pastries—sweeten the conversation and pretend it’s not a coaxing technique to get them home early. Maybe it’s best to let them be, have a day for themselves before you… well, ruin it. 

A lump forms in your throat, and you turn to your side, curling into yourself and pretend it doesn’t hurt. Pretend you didn’t spend the previous day crying and sobbing inside a tiny office and hear a muggle tell you exactly what you feared was wrong with you. 

There’s a rasp on the door, quiet and tentative at first before it opens. Achingly slow before Remus pokes his head in. He’s not wearing his uniform, and his hair is tousled—like he’s just woken up or ran a hand through it over and over again. 

“Oh,” he blinks, surprised to see you awake. “Hi, dovey. Good morning.”

You turn, clearing your throat and pretending this isn’t turning your morning upside down. Your heart, too. “Hi.”

“Uh,” he steps fully inside, looking heartbreakingly lost and confused. It makes your throat constrict, and it’s a conscious effort to not make your eyes flicker down the bed. To your drawer where you’ve shoved the therapist’s notes and written instructions. “Sirius ran to that café you like down the street for breakfast, he should be back soon. Would you like a cup while we wait?”

You push yourself to sit. The question crawls and crawls up your throat, trying to escape. You’re staying? “That’s… okay, yeah,” you turn to the clock. “I’ve still got a couple of hours.”

“A couple of hours?”

“It’s Friday,” you explain, despite yourself. Knowing how against this is to your heart’s deepest wishes. They’re here, they’ve got breakfast for you and you’re saying you have to work? “I… well, I still have to go to work. I left early yesterday, I can’t miss it.”

You regret your words immediately after you speak, Remus’ shoulder slump, nodding in understanding and you turn to sit on the edge of the bed so you don’t have to see the heartbreak that comes with his amber eyes. So you don’t have to see him walk out of the room and let you be. 

Except… he doesn’t. You stand, forcing yourself to get started with your day and remind yourself that the heaviness of your chest is just something you’ll have to learn how to handle, how to endure and carry by yourself for a while. Or at least until you muster any ounce of courage to tell them about it. Maybe tomorrow night? Remus is looking at you in a way that makes you consider calling in sick—but what if it’s just for a couple of hours? What if they end up needing to go? They’re important at work now, they might be needed. But so do you. You can’t simply call in sick, even if… well, you do have a note. A reason—No, you can’t. You’ll tell them at dinner.

Right as you’re about to round the bed, start on your day and get changed, Remus stops you before you can get to your dresser. His touch is dizzying and overwhelming at once, thumb sweeping at your elbow as he tries to coax you to look at him. You want to, you so desperately want to let him hold you and look directly into his pretty eyes, but you know better. You know how weak you are, how easily you can give into the high of being on the receiving end of their attention, their affections. You know you will either let them kiss you and drag you back to bed, or end up spilling your heart open before breakfast. You’re at crossroads and Remus is looking at you like he can see it, like he knows. You wish he knew. Maybe everything would be easier… or maybe… just maybe… this wouldn't have happened, if they knew.  

No. You shake your head. Don’t go there. 

“...sweetheart?

You blink, forcing your head up to meet his gaze. “Hm? Yes?”

Remus parts his lips a bit, like he’s actively holding himself back and bracing for whatever he will ask you. You find yourself doing the same. But he shakes his head, too. His hand coasts up from your elbow higher and higher the length of your arm, all the way to your shoulder. It’s a nice touch, you almost shudder like your body is finally catching up and recognizing the feeling of his skin touching yours. You swallow thickly, feeling your weak defenses and self mantras dissolving when he pulls you to him into a hug. 

You suck in a breath, quiet so he doesn’t hear how complete you feel with his arms around you, chests pressed together in a way you know he’d hear your pounding heart if he pressed you closer. His arms tighten in the right places, around your back and shoulders with a hand up the back of your head that makes you think that maybe… things really are changing. Maybe you can call off work and talk things through. Maybe, yes, they’re what’s wrong with you, but there’s still time to make them right. But how can you even open your mouth to speak when the tears have already won you over? So you stay silent instead. Just a couple of minutes like this. You’ll take this, you’ll take the hug and the breakfast and the extra hours of morning light and warm coffee. 

His thumb strokes at the baby hairs of your neck, an absentminded sweep that one would think it’s just muscle memory if you didn’t know better. Remus’ hand splays over your back, pulling you closer like he physically wants—needs to mould you to him. It’s enough to make a sniffle escape you, traitorous and hopeful and pathetic. Naturally, more follow. Then, a sob tears right through your throat and the jumble of feelings you’re desperately trying to push down. And you can’t keep silent this time. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, a warm breath in your ear. His thumb strokes your nape again, again and again. “I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head, finding in yourself the strength to speak. “No. S’fine, I just…” your breath stutters, not quite catching up with the adrenaline of his arms around you. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately.”

Remus makes a sound, quiet but evident in his pain as he guides you a little away. His hands travel up to your face, eyebrows bunched together when your gazes meet and his eyes flit down to the tears in your cheeks. How many nights you spent the same way, crying, and crying and crying hoping they would come back—hoping they would hear or notice you’re falling apart between them in their sleep.

The front door opens and closes, followed by paper bags crinkling and tentative steps. You silence yourself immediately, knowing that, if he knew, if he heard… any plans to contain this would go down the drain. But Sirius has never been one to ignore the sound of your pain or the tension in the room once he notices it. Papers cling as he sets them down, boots stomping against the wooden floors as he starts towards the room.

Something primal about their worry, their combined panic and pain makes you move. You turn around, brushing your hair away and pretending nothing has happened, that you’re simultaneously choking on your own tears and the tension that has taken over the room. Sirius looks frustrated and sad and you’re desperately reminding yourself that it’s not at you. It can’t be at you. He would never.

“Hey—”

“I’ll be ready in a few minutes,” you speak over him, sidestepping Remus to get to your dresser. “Sorry.”

Sirius shakes his head. “What are you sorry for?”

You rummage a bit sharper inside your drawers, searching for what? You don’t know, but you have to move. You have to go. Their attention, while intoxicating as it used to be, now it feels like it’s cutting the oxygen of the room. You can’t tell them. You can’t, not when you’ve already ruined a perfectly good morning. Their plans for breakfast. Maybe walking you to work. All gone. Because you gave in, you clung to Remus and his touch and the way he hugged you. You can’t.

“You can’t what, sweetheart? Remus asks.

Your eyes snap up. “Huh?”

Sirius takes a step closer, deeper into the room. “You can’t… what?”

“What?”

They share a look, and alarm bells ring inside your head. You close the drawer, holding your clothes against your chest and trying to walk between them to get to the bathroom. Just a couple of minutes, a couple of steps—

“Wait.” Sirius says. His hand takes your elbow, too. It’s shaking. Or maybe that’s just you. 

“Sirius, I have to get ready,” you point at your clothes.

He bends slightly to the side, searching for your gaze and finding it hard to even look at him. Not when it’s hard to pinpoint what it means. Months ago, you used to know him and his moods, the way he thought and the way he went quiet when he struggled. Now you don’t know if the frown between his eyebrows has anything to do with you. Or stress. Or how he went out early in the morning for breakfast and returned to a flat full of doom and pain. This was a bad idea. You shouldn’t have waited, you should’ve get started on your day as you woke up and head out before it could get to this point. You should’ve stayed silent.

“Can you look at me, my love?”

You don’t at first. Not because you don’t want to, you so desperately want to look at him. But first you must swallow down whatever is obstructing your breath, the weight on your chest and make yourself better until it’s time to go. You want to look at him and smile and let him kiss you and guide you to the kitchen for breakfast. But part of you, the deepest and most selfish parts of you, wants to simply bite the bullet and look up. Let him see how much you’re hurting, even if that’s the least you want. It’s useless—you still don’t know what’s wrong with you.

He exhales deeply, it sounds shaky even to your own ears. But he only takes a step closer, hand lowering until he’s coaxing your arm out of holding onto your clothes to hold it to his chest. “Why don’t you stay home today?” he asks, voice at odds with his face. Soothing himself in real time when your eyes flicker up in surprise. “I know you need to go to work, but I… we can’t let you go like this. Not when there’s still something we’d like to talk to you about.”

Your throat constricts. “Talk?” you ask, eyes flickering from him to Remus. “About what? Can’t it wait?”

He glances up, definitely sending Remus a panicked look that you do catch this time. When you try to take his distraction to step away, to give them a moment, Sirius threads your fingers together. Pressed against his chest. 

“No, actually,” he says, surer this time. “It can’t. I’m sorry, love.”

You nod, swallowing nervously. “Okay. I’ll… um, see if I can call in sick at work.”

Remus clears his throat. “Why don’t you change, clean your face or take a quick shower while we set breakfast, hm?” His hand returns to your nape, grounding and heavy at once. Like the hand tightening around your heart.

A panicked and intrusive thought crashes into your mind out of sudden—what if they’re breaking up with you? What if this is it? What if all this time they were slowly pulling away to make the fall less painful, the news easy to digest? What if—

“It’s okay, dove. Nothing’s wrong,” Remus reassures quickly, like he can feel the panic radiating off you. Or picking up the way your heart pounds. Either way, it doesn’t help to calm you down. He takes a step closer. “We just want to talk, uh… catch up, more like it.”

“Catch up?”

“Yeah.”

Sirius’ thumb brushes the back of your hand, looking more and more like he wants to cry. You nod. You’d accept anything to lessen whatever tension has them looking so devastated, so sad. He mirrors it, looking a tad relieved and kissing your cheek before walking out the room. Remus does the same, giving your nape a loving squeeze before following him out. 

You don’t allow yourself to process it, not yet. You go through the motions first. You make the bed, switch your clothes and tidy the room before going into the bathroom to clean your face and brush your teeth and do your hair. Then, you call Marlene. It’s a conscious effort to keep your voice even when she asks if you’re okay, and you reassure her many times that you are, that you’re only feeling under the weather and that you owe her a favour for covering for you. When she hangs up. You let yourself cry. 

When you step out, a couple of minutes later, you think you’ve successfully rearranged your insides so they don’t come spilling out the moment you open your mouth. It takes a bit, and a hurried and pathetic attempt to remember everything the mind healer told you, the breathing exercises and the quiet mantras to calm yourself. They help, but just a bit. All the work comes undone when you step out the bathroom, finding the empty room and the door ajar. Whispers echo from the living room, quieter and broken despite their desperate attempts to even their tones. 

You muster your courage, your strength and your pain altogether to round the bed; crouching down to open the drawer and collect your notes. A small museum of your relationship, the good and the bad. The notes and the silence, the love and the loneliness. All cramped between your clothes and old books under the bed. You fold them and tuck them in your pocket before walking out of the room. Not yet. 

“It’s okay, love. It’s okay, we’re okay,” Remus whispers, over and over as Sirius holds onto him. “She’s okay. We’ll talk, yeah? We’ll fix it.”

“I don’t know.” Sirius whispers back, voice fraught and quiet. Too quiet. You stay silent, watching with a tightness inside your chest. He shakes his head. “I don’t know if this is something we can fix, Remus.”

“But we’ll try, yeah? We will.”

You look away. You stay silent. And you let them be. Not yet.

You walk back to the room, sitting on the edge of the bed and trying to ignore the dark pitch on your stomach, growing and growing. Maybe you were right. Things were changing, but it took you a bit to realize you’re not part of those changes. 

This time, you don’t check the lock before the first sob escapes your lips, embarrassed and frustrated at yourself for all your attempts going in vain. For staying silent in hopes of salvaging this, hoping things would go back to normal, that your patience was a small sacrifice for a greater purpose. That you clung to them, to stop this good love from slipping away. Not noticing it was already far from reach.

You let them be, and stay silent as you cry. You cry and cling to traitorous hope that they’ll notice, or not. Or let you be. You’ve trapped yourself in a dilemma that is ultimately the result of your own actions, wanting to be seen without having to beg. 

No. 

You shake your head, rub your face, then press the heels of your hands into your eyes. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet. You can still make it right. It doesn’t have to feel wrong, not always. Every love has its period of uncertainty, of pain and loneliness. This is a good love, you can’t let it slip away. Even good love has to go through changes. Not yet. You will talk to them—and say what? You will try, but not yet—

“y/n?” Sirius asks, tentative at first as he pushes the door open. Slow, a contrast to the way your hands fly to clean your cheeks. He sucks in a breath. 

You stand. “Sorry, I’ll be right there.”

He reaches for you, not even giving you enough time to take a step. His arms tighten around you, nearly collapsing into you with the force of his hug. His desperation. Whatever it is, you’re too raw and confused—it must rub off on you. Because it all goes downhill after that. 

₊˚⊹ ᢉ𐭩

The breakfast has turned soggy, you push it around your plate and pretend you’re not eating it because you’re still too raw. Not because you fear this will be the last. 

The notes and pages grow heavy with every passing minute, every hug and every silent look. How funny it all is, that you’ve finally gotten what you wanted, and you can’t bring yourself to enjoy it. Or at least not the way you’d want to. Not when you can’t bring yourself to open your mouth without feeling like you’re running on borrowed time, and silencing yourself immediately. 

You set your fork down, glancing around the flat. The table, same one you’d share early breakfast and late dinners. The first piece of furniture you picked together. Then, the living room, the coffee table, the bookshelves, the turntables and the kitchen and— your hand flies to your face, choking up on realizations and grief. This can’t be. How can it be the end? This is good, you formed a home together. This is a good love, how can it end?

A chair scrapes, and Remus is already crouching by your side, pulling it aside to reach for you. His knees crack but his arms are desperate and steady when they pull you to him. This time, you have no qualms in scolding yourself for melting into his touch, his embrace that feels sacred and devastating at once. Your chest hurts and hiccups as you cry, turning your head and maybe hide away in his arms. 

“I tried,” you whisper. It comes out like a whispered confession, like something that escapes your lips. “I just want you to know that I did try to keep up.”

He pulls away, but it’s Sirius who speaks first. “We know that now,” his voice is quiet, heavy with sorrow. Or grief. Whatever it is, your heart clenches. “We’re the ones who didn’t.”

“No—”

“We didn’t, y/n.”

“You had many things going on. Regulus, and the full moons and the transformations and—”

“And so did you. It seems.”

You suck in a breath, eyes flickering between them. Remus thumbs at your tears, his own eyes glassy and full of despair. “What do you mean?” They share a quick look, and the weight on your chest expands. Heavier and heavier, it cuts your oxygen. “Who told you?”

“That’s the thing, isn’t it?” Remus murmurs, thumb sweeping your cheek when tears won’t stop trailing down your face. “Someone had to point it out for us to notice.”

“Who?” you swallow thickly. “Was it Marlene? Lily?”

Remus closes his eyes, and Sirius only runs a hand over his face. “You see now?” he asks, too full of grief. “All the people who noticed before we did?”

“You had many things on your plate and I couldn’t do that to you, I knew you were struggling and—”

Sirius shakes his head. “You were struggling, too! For months!”

You look away. “I didn’t mean for it to get bad,” you confess. “I tried. I really did, I promise.” you explain. No, you beg. You plead. Because the idea of your silence being the reason they walk away is too terrifying to even entertain. “I just…”

Remus strokes your face. “Please don’t silence yourself,” his arm lowers to your lap, holding your hand in his. His scars glisten with the tears he’s cleaned. Yours, Sirius’, his own. “Don’t slip away.”

Your face twists in pain, because it is a virtue to not let good love slip away—and right now it’s beginning to feel like a flaw. For slipping away from them, for letting it get to this point. For staying silent.

“I just…” you hold onto his hand. “I just missed you, so, so much. And I didn’t know why.” Their faces crack at the way your voice catches, heavy with pain and grief and the months you had to endure their absence. 

“Oh, my love—” Sirius’ voice cracks, chair scraping as he stands. You’re fisting his jumper before he can even fully wrap his arms around you, clinging and clinging, and feeling the way they cling to you in return. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. They repeat, over and over and over, and you stay silent. Because it’s starting to feel like the moment they say goodbye. And you’re clinging to hope that maybe, you can get a couple of extra minutes like this. Clinging to hope. Clinging to them.  

Remus’ arms shake when he tries to fix his hold around you, and his fingers brush the pages peeking from the back pocket of your trousers. He draws back a bit, just enough to pull them out. 

Your breath hitches. Then even more when you look up to realize they’re not surprised at what they find. Remus unfolds them like he had been the one folding them back into your pocket, into your drawer. Sirius steps back, hands at your jaw as he cleans your tears. And the table suddenly feels like there’s something hanging in the air that you’re not privy to. 

“I was going to tell you,” you’re quick to explain, words tripping out of your tongue. Barely taking shape before you’re uttering them, barely making sense to your own ears before they make sense to them. “I just… I didn’t know how and I didn’t know…” you falter.

Remus looks up. “Earlier you said that lately you don’t know what’s wrong with you,” his voice is terrifyingly calm as he thumbs at the pages. He hands them back to you. “Is this… why?”

For some reason, you find yourself nodding. Speaking. Pushing past your dread and let the truth slip out. “Yeah,” you rub your eyes. “Yes. I… well, I thought maybe it was work at first but—turns out I’m fine. The healer said I was fine.”

Sirius dabs at his cheeks. “So you kept going.”

“Yeah. I… it didn’t make sense. What she said and how I felt.”

Remus’ hands travel up, resting on your shoulders before thumbing at your jaw, your neck. Grounding motions that only bring more pain rather than comfort. “And how do you feel?”

Even if you try to look away, his sad eyes are a sight too hard to ignore. You thumb at the pages, the corner you ripped with the mind healer’s number to hide it from them, the little love notes you clung to when uncertainty was too big to ignore. To brush off. 

“I…” your eyebrows twitch together, a fleeting movement that tells them everything. Everything you’re trying and failing to put into words. 

He can’t help it, Sirius shakes his head at your silence. Your struggle to find the words. “I’m sorry.”

“I just…” you run a hand through your chest, trying to suppress the weight inside. Forcing it to either dissipate or to take the shape of something that can be easy to understand. You look away, then. “You know, the first person I tried to talk about this with was Lily. One day I stopped by to visit her. I told her as best as I could, hoping she would help me understand… she listened. And all she said is that I seemed very sad for a girl so in love. And it’s the only thing that has made sense through all of this. I love you so much, and yet I’m sad all the time.”

Remus looks away, eyes slipping shut. You wonder if it’s too much for you to clean his tears, but then remember this might be your last chance, so you do. He leans into your palm, and the knot in your throat tightens. Sirius makes a sound that makes your insides rattle and freeze at the same time.

“No.”

“Sirius—”

“No. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

Your eyebrows twitch again. The faintest of movements. “I know.”

His voice cracks. “You were supposed to be happy and… and feel loved not—” his face glistens with tears. “Not sad. Not like this.”

You run a finger through Remus’ face, touch featherlight as you follow after a rogue tear that drags a path down one of his scars. He opens his eyes with realization, taking your hand in his to lower them to his chest. 

“You were sad because we kept asking you to wait, wasn’t it?”

Sirius looks back at you, fear and realization dawning on him when you don’t answer. Remus inhales sharply. 

You stare back at him, focusing on his tears and finding a way to make it easier to say. To make the words and their meaning easier to hear. “I just…” you sniffle. “I knew it was out of protection, that it was for my own good,” you pause, swallowing back a sob even when it begs to escape your lips. “But you never once stopped to ask me if that’s what I wanted.”

The silence that follows is deafening enough that you feel it in your own bones, your heart, freezing with dread and refusing to stutter with hope when the words finally leave your lips. Hope that they’ll understand. Hope that you love them despite it all. And hope that they know you would’ve stayed—

“I would’ve stayed,” you whisper, dragging the back of your hand over your cheeks. “There’s nothing none of you could’ve done or said to scare me off. I just…” you take a sharp inhale, and your hand turns, covering your face as the tears start falling again. “I just wanted to be there. Not just for the good—but… the ugly parts as well. That’s all I wanted.”

Sirius shifts, bending to take your face in his hands. Cleaning your tears when all you want to do is clean his. “You can have them. The good and the ugly parts.”

You shake your head. “You don’t have to say this.”

“I do. I do, y/n. I’m so sorry,” he holds you closer, bending down and down until his forehead is nearly pressed against yours. “You can have them.”

“Just,” Remus’ hold tightens around you. “Just please stop talking like you’re already halfway out the door.”

Traitorous hope flickers on inside your chest, too fast and burning too bright you can’t bring yourself to extinguish it. You swallow thickly, hoping it dies down. You know better than to go down that road again, but your heartstrings keep tugging you that way. Back to them, to their arms, their easy affections and the way they cling to you the longer the silence stretches on between you.  

You shake your head, just to yourself at first. Don’t go there, don’t go there. The more you repeat it to yourself, the higher the flame gets. Burning brighter and brighter.

“You said it, you said this isn’t something that can be fixed,” you explain. Almost pleading, pleading for them to understand you. To know why what they’re saying it’s only feeding the fire of your hope. “And maybe you’re right—”

“No.” Sirius says, with resolve and stuttering breaths as he shakes his head. “No, we’re not. Because that’s not what I meant.”

“What?” 

“I don’t know if the way we’ve hurt you is something that can be fixed that easily,” he says, bending closer until he meets your equally teary gaze. “that’s what I meant.”

“We’d never think of us as something unfixable, dove.” Remus adds, voice fraught. “Never.”

“No?” your voice quietens. Why wouldn’t it? When hope keeps pressing down and down at your chest, trying to find its way back in, it doesn’t care if there isn’t room for something else. “Even after this?”

“Even after this,” he agrees immediately. “There’s nothing worth more time and effort and fixing than this. Nothing.”

“But—”

“Earlier you kept saying you tried. Many times.” Sirius steps in, voice gaining momentum. “And you’re not the only one trying. Not anymore.”

You feel like the flame inside your chest has spread throughout your body. Hope is a dangerous thing. As intoxicating as it is painful. 

“I don’t know if I’d handle it again. I won’t survive it,” you confess, first to yourself before glancing up to meet their teary gazes. “Don’t make me hope.”

As soon as the words leave your lips, you brace. You wait for the moment they draw away from you, realizing the depth of your pain. What they’ll have to work with and decide it’s not worth it in the end. 

Except… they don’t. If anything, they get closer.

Remus brings your hands to his chest again. “Then don’t hope.” 

Your breath hitches. “What?”

“You took the risk before, and see how much it hurt you. It’s okay not to hope, and we won’t expect you to,” he goes on. “Because that’s for us to do… for us to earn.” 

“If you need to doubt, doubt us.” Sirius says, thumb sweeping at your cheeks and silently relieved there are no new tears to clean. “And…” he pauses, wetting his lips. “If you need time. Take it.”

And just like that, the flicker of hope extinguishes. But Remus only holds you closer, feeling the way it dims and the way your eyes gloss over again. 

“Not time away. Just time to earn your trust again, to show you that we’ll work through fixing this. To show you the good and the ugly parts.”

You nod, slowly and just once. “Okay,” you exhale deeply. Maybe the first one that actually leaves all the way in a while. “Okay, yeah.”

Sirius mirrors your nod, holding your gaze as you try to gather your thoughts. Remus brings your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles and pressing them to his chest. In the same stutter of breath, you reach for each other again. And this time, you don’t cling as hard. 

You nudge closer to him, and he turns his head to kiss your temple. So unbearably soft and tender you feel teary once again. Sirius steps back, holding your face in his hands and kissing the tears away while Remus stands. He drops a quick kiss to the crown of your head before reaching for the plates and the rest of the food to take them to the kitchen.

“Why don’t we go outside for a walk?” he says, rejoining you a bit later with a little, if fleetingly tentative smile. “The weather’s nice enough, maybe we can clear our heads. What do you think, dovey?”

“Actually,” you sniffle, brushing your hair away and feeling acutely aware of how not okay you might look right now. “I was thinking we could have a lie-in?”

Sirius tucks you to his side. “Of course.”

“But we can take a walk later.”

Remus hums, cupping your cheek. “That’s okay, too. But only if you feel like it,” his thumb strokes the corner of your lips. Feeling the way they twitch, the faintest of movements. “But first… breakfast?”

“Sure,” you nod. 

“Perfect.” Sirius holds you to him a bit tighter before letting go, pushing the sleeves of his jumper up his elbows. “What are you in the mood for? I got you french toast but I reckon we can whip you up something better.”

“French toast’s fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course,” you stand, suddenly aware that you’re still holding onto your papers. “But, um, I sort of need a big cup of coffee first.”

Sirius points at you. “You’ve got it, my love.”

Remus tucks you to his side, and your arms come around him in muscle memory that pushes past missed times and your own reservations. He guides you back to the room, pausing by the living room to pick up his book on the way. You settle between the covers, not caring if you’ve made the bed not even hours ago. He follows after you, settling by your side and making himself comfortable. 

“What did you think about it?” he asks, turning the book for you to see the cover. 

It takes you a bit to pinpoint the book and its contents. “Oh,” you shift, turning to lie on your side to look at him. “You were right. S’a bit boring.”

His lips twitch. “Yeah?”

“Heavy world building.”

“Hm,” he turns back to the book, contemplatingly. “Suppose I’ll have to sit this one out, then.”

“I mean,” you reach for the covers, fiddling with a loose thread. “I think you’ll like it, but I personally found it very slow at times.”

Remus shuffles closer, arm around you. “Are you calling me slow?” he asks quietly. Both in a shared secret and like he’s trying to coax a smile out of you. 

It almost works. Your lips twitch more obviously this time. You feel his lips curling into a smile when he kisses your temple.   

“Read it to me?” you whisper. “Maybe you’ll get me to like it.”

He pulls you impossibly closer to him, and your arm circles around his torso for steadying. Slow at first, tentative. But Remus shifts until there’s no other choice but to hug him. 

“Of course I’ll read it to you,” he whispers back. “Are you ready?”

“Now?”

“Sure. Unless you had any other plans in mind?”

“No,” you raise a hand, finger tracing idle patterns on his sternum. “Just sleep in I suppose.”

“Then you’ve asked the right person,” Sirius says as he walks in. Somehow managing to carry three steaming cups of coffee without burning himself. He sets them by your nightstand. “But wait for me?”

“Sure,” you reply, sitting straight to take your coffee. You pass Remus his as Sirius walks back out the room to get started on breakfast. “Here.”

“Thanks, dovey,” he takes it. Then winces at the scorching hot temperature of the mug. He still gives it a sip, and your lips curl around the rim of your mug as you drink yours. He sets it on his nightstand, and gestures at you to return to your previous position. 

You do. Readily. Surely. 

Sirius curses under his breath from the kitchen, cupboards opening and closing as he walks around preparing breakfast. You nuzzle closer to Remus, and he holds you to him before pulling the covers higher over you. Together, you wait for breakfast. 

When Sirius comes back, you share bites and sips of coffee between chapters. Pauses to shift and to ask questions about the book, small debates about what should’ve happened instead and what Remus, personally, had done if he was the writer. You finish your coffee and your french toast, leaving the plates together by the nightstand and settling more comfortably between them. Listening as they argue about whether the protagonist is too romantic with her descriptions of everything or that’s just poor writing—things you thought yourself when you first read the book. Sirius asks about your opinion and you pretend you’re falling asleep. He lets you, dropping a kiss to your shoulder and pulling you to him when Remus gets too heated reading and describing an action scene. 

Somewhere between that, you fall asleep. A few moments later, they fall asleep, too. You wake up later at night tangled between sheets and limbs, an arm wrapped loosely around your waist and inky black curls tickling your cheek. You sigh, turning to pull the covers higher before falling asleep again.

[sheepispink]

A Rookie and Her Lieutenant Masterlist

Reader is a lower ranking soldier, who unfortunately gets placed in the same room as the deadly Ghost after an unfortunate fire. Chaos ensue.

pairings: Female!reader x Lt Ghost, implied that reader has a crush on Soap

Notes: You can read in any order though I’d recommend at least reading ch1 first, platonic or romantic, up to you :)

୨✧୧ Odd habits Reader is a lower-ranking soldier who, after an unfortunate fire, is forced to share rooms with Lieutenant Ghost of all people. Unfortunately for reader, they’re only coping mechanism is balling their eyes out every night and Ghost has a keener eye than most. (lfluff, humour, protective ghost, )

୨✧୧ Gummy Bears Your friends dont believe that your roommate is Simon Riley himself, the ghost. So, they force you to go over to the lieutenant and ask a stupid question. That is until you realise his sergeant is also there too. (Soap Mactavish, teasing)

୨✧୧ First missions Ghost knows how hard it can be to prove yourself in the military, so he asks you for a ‘favour’ in which you go undercover on a mission with him team. He meant to just help you in exchange for scaring you all the time, but he finds something far more interesting instead. (141, canon-typical violence, fluff, teasing)

୨✧୧ Using his rank to your advantage

୨✧୧ Dreams and Desires Ghost finds out you tend to have pretty vivid dreams and asks you about them regularly, intrigued. It’s only when he teases you about having one about Soap that things get really interesting though. (Implied crush on Soap)

୨✧୧ A Favour While on a short trip to town, some creep hits on you, making you uncomfortable. you don't have anyone to walk back with you to the bus, but thankfully you still have a favour from Ghost waiting to be used. (protective!ghost, eventual fluff)

୨✧୧ Cookin’ for two You decide to cook a steak using the portable stove your friend got you, when Ghost is supposed to be busy. That is until he comes angrily talking over the phone, and you know damn well what you're doing breaks many regulations. (Teasing, fluff,)

୨✧୧ The 3 times Ghost looked after you and the one chance you got to do the same for him As much as Ghost wants to pretend you dont plague his mind, he finds himself drawn to making sure you're okay. Of course he'd never let you reciprocate it.. unless he hadn't even realised himself. (protective!ghost,fluff, sleeping together, teasing)

୨✧୧ Rumours your friends have distanced themselves with you after some baseless rumours surface, leaving you to come to Ghost instead. Luckily for you, he has a solution. (protectiveness, teasing, rumours)

୨✧୧ 'Girl Problems' When you dont show up to Soap's training sessions on time, he asks Ghosts where you've been. Turns out you've been having a pretty rough day, and luckily you have a grumpy roommate to help ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

୨✧୧ 'Behind the mask' You didn't expect Ghost to be any younger than forty, but clearly your estimation is way off when you accidentally walk in on him after a shower. (Romance) ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

୨✧୧ 'Restless' Nightmares plague the two of you, luckily you have the other to help you through it. Reader ver Ghost Ver

୨✧୧ How to ragebait your lieutenant Ghost always gives you good advice, but sometimes tou really are too tired (and stubborn) to listen

୨✧୧ Bonfire Night November 5th has finally arrived and you are desperate to see the fireworks with Ghost. The team agree, and you all go together, finding out a lot more than their favourite pastries.

୨✧୧ Military Ball (NEW CHAPTER) Due to a successful agreement with America, a ball will be hosted to honour a tradition of theirs. You ranks are invited to an ‘after party’ but rumours are going around again, and you start to believe their words.

୨✧୧ A Healthy Dose Of Riley Eases the Heart You both go on deployment at similar times, leaving you far from him for the longest time yet. When you come back, you end up very ill, thankfully Simon comes back earlier than expected. (cw vomiting, grief, implied ptsd, hurt and lots of comfort) ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

୨✧୧ Rough week (request) (romance, fluff, reader beats up a guy)

୨✧୧ Dad? (Request) (fluff,platonic,141, teasing) You accidentally call Price dad after being teased about your dynamic for so long.

୨✧୧ Through blood and insecurities (romance, fluff, reassurance, hurt/comfort) Ghost comes back injured from a mission, leaving you with a whirl of conflicting thoughts over how to help him and whether you really hold an important place in his life.

୨✧୧ A Small Surprise (price + gaz focus) You’ve been helping Price out for a while with small little things but as easter break comes around and everyone leaves, you’re alone. Especially when Simon goes on a mission too. Luckily, he’s got plenty of jobs for you to do, and a credit card to spoil you with

୨✧୧ A Diet? (fluff, humour, teasing, tf141) After your recent blood test Ghost decides you need a serious readjustment to your eating habits. Unfortunately for him, you wont go down without a fight.

୨✧୧ The Second Lieutenant (angst, injuries/abuse, medical procedures (stitches). You’re sent on a course to complete a new training. Of all the partners to get, your hates your guts which you believe is for no logical reason. Little do you know who his father is, or rather, who his father doesnt like

The Second Lieutenant Part Two

Note: despite some chapters being romance focused, i still plan to make equally as platonic chapters !

Taglist: open

Support my work and buy me a coffee! (i’m fighting for my life updating during exam szn)

[ghostedink]

Ghostie/mad- 22, she/her, lover girl.

My favs: Simon Riley & Toji Fushiguro

🐈‍⬛ - COD. DBH. JJK. (Will eventually add more)

Follow my JJK blog here 🐈‍⬛

COD Masterlist

DBH Masterlist

JJK Masterlist

Dividers by @huraxy-dividers & @cursed-carmine

[shelovesflowerpott]

A collection of some Marauders fics I've recently read! I've organized everything by ship, it's all reader insert, I may make a separate one for no reader insert but I'm not sure. enjoy, and lemme know what you think of me continuing to post fic reccs!

Wolfstar hyper independent reader James Potter James L/N and Y/N Potter Just Kiss Her Why Didn't We Work Out? Manhandling Sirius Black Midnight Reverie Regulus Black Sweet Like Honey, Karma Is A Cat Jily Cinnamon Roll Cookies Hypothermia Rosekiller How many pocketknives can one man have Moonwaterkiller sick!reader (LOVE @ellecdc, go read everything she's written) Barty Crouch Christmas with Barty Barty looking for you at a party Marauders "Honey I Cut My Hair." shy!roommate!reader One Of Us (platonic) Marauders + Lily Reversed Tropes

[skzyeri]

skzyeri fic rec masterlist

bridgerton

anthony bridgerton benedict bridgerton colin bridgerton misc.

game of thrones

jon snow robb stark

harry potter

draco malfoy harry potter mattheo riddle tom riddle

marauders

james potter remus lupin sirius black poly! marauders

marvel

bucky barnes - two

stranger things

steve harrington

teen wolf

isaac lahey stiles stilinski

the 100

bellamy blake john murphy

the boys

soldier boy

the hunger games

coriolanus snow finnick odair haymitch abernathy sejanus plinth poly! snowjanus

the pitt

brendon park cassie mckay dennis whitaker frank langdon - two jack abbot - two - three - four mel king michael robinavitch - two trinity santos

[drowningina-lake]

Fashion designer Regulus and supermodel Sirius who share a flat in France and work together

[aureateink]

Aureateink's Library

Emoji Key: SFW ✨ | NSFW 🫀 | Angst 🗡️ | Fluff 🌹

feat. the Wizarding World, MCU, Stranger Things, The Walking Dead & more!

Reader's Choice (x reader)

a boy who's jacked and kind 🫀

in the palm of his hand 🫀

Wizarding World

George Weasley

A Weekend At The Weasley's 🫀🌹

The No-Dating Rule 🫀🌹

A Christmas Gift 🗡️✨

'A Madness Most Discreet' Series (Malfoy!reader, part 1, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six) 🫀🗡️

Easy to Love (Valentine's Special) 🗡️🫀🌹

Bill Weasley

'Magic Lessons' Series (intern!reader, part 1, part 2, part 3) 🫀🗡️

1000 stitches (werewolf!Bill) ✨🗡️

Charlie Weasley

'Best Friends Brother' Series (part one, part two) 🫀🌹

1000 secrets ✨🗡️

nocturna (vampire!reader) 🫀

Draco Malfoy

Bad Santa 🫀🗡️🌹

Flutterby Baby 🫀🗡️🌹

teeth 🫀🌹

Sirius Black

'Hit Me Where It Hurts The Most' Series (part one, part two, part three, part four) 🫀🗡️

The Black Dog and His Bluebird 🫀🗡️🌹

Regulus Black

What's My Name? 🫀🗡️

1000 secret kisses 🫀🌹

Barty Crouch Jr.

I Wanna Be Yours (blackcat!reader)🫀🗡️🌹

Baby I'm Yours (blackcat!reader) 🫀🗡️🌹

Zombieboy (toxic!reader) 🗡️

James Potter

Work For It 🫀

I Hate It Here (animagus!reader) ✨🌹

Remus Lupin

1000 Inked Scars (tattoo artist!reader)🫀🗡️🌹

Harry Potter

1000 tears 🫀🗡️

false alarm

Poly!Marauders

tears 🌹🫀

Wolfstar (Sirius Black x Remus Lupin)

Lockjaw 🫀

tug-of-war (adult!wolfstar x younger!reader) 🫀

Jegulus (James Potter x Regulus Black)

Seducing A Scrooge 🫀🌹

Bitchkiller (Sirius Black x Barty Crouch Jr.)

greening out 🫀

Drarry (Draco Malfoy x Harry Potter)

Freefall (roommates!au) 🫀🗡️

House Party (roommates!au) 🫀🌹

Headcanons

what is it like being married to Rabastan Lestrange? 🫀🌹

what is it like dating Fred Weasley and Cedric Diggory? 🫀🌹

weasley brothers when you sleep in unexpectedly ✨🌹

MCU

Steve Rogers

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart 🫀🗡️

working late 🫀

Bucky Barnes

Run, Rabbit, Run 🌹🫀

double vision ✨🗡️

Stranger Things

Steve Harrington

Blue Christmas 🫀🗡️🌹

1000 glances 🌹

1000 kisses 🫀

if we make it through december 🫀

Eddie Munson

Christmas Karaoke 🫀🌹

The Walking Dead

Rick Grimes

safe with me ✨🗡️

The Tortured Fangirl's Department Series

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart (Steve Rogers x assassin!reader) 🫀🗡️

I Hate It Here (James Potter x animagus!reader) ✨🌹

© aureateink 2026. do not copy, post, or claim my writing as your own.

[underoospeterparker]

marauders/hp fic recommendations !!

since I can't bring myself to write as of late, I'll recommend <3

JAMES POTTER

with a reader who has a bad day by @moonstruckme; hurt/comfort

thank you, McLaggen by @ellecdc; fluff

i hate it here by @agreeewrites; fluff & protective!James

mastermind by @wintrsoul; fluff

SIRIUS BLACK

i think your house is haunted (and i think you should come live with me) by @colouredbyd; childhood friends to strangers to lovers, angst

tattoo artist!sirius gives reader her first tattoo by @moonstruckme; fluff

the basilisk and me by @ellecdc; hurt/comfort, angst

REMUS LUPIN

remus comforts insecure reader by @moonstruckme; hurt/comfort

while we're both here by @crescenthistory; fluff, angst with a happy ending

part one part two part three part four part five

fwb!doctor!remus frets over you in the hospital by @moonstruckme; fluff, comfort

unbearable, desperate and holy by @colouredbyd; soft angst, yearning

REGULUS BLACK

blood on silk by @colouredbyd; angst with a happy ending, violence

wrapped in you by @colouredbyd; fluff, silly banter

POLY!MARAUDERS

secrets have teeth by @colouredbyd; angst angst angst, happy ending

part one part two part three

reader who is comforted while feeling anxious by @dismalflo; hurt/comfort

sweet things melt slowly by @colouredbyd; fluff

cuddle puddles by @charlottes-diary-entries; fluff, comfort

lost and found by @colouredbyd; some angst, hurt/comfort

emergency contact by @bruisedboys; fluff

autistic!reader has a meltdown by @writtenbymoonflower; hurt/comfort

reader who's getting bruises from somewhere by @writtenbymoonflower; hurt/comfort, protective!marauders

bitter sweetness by @colouredbyd; fluff, hurt/comfort

the secret life of pets (hogwarts edition) by @colouredbyd; fluff

we will be okay by @colouredbyd; angst with comfort

POLY!JEGULUS

reader gets hurt during a quidditch match by @ellecdc; hurt/comfort, fluff

kiss, marry, avada kedavra by @colouredbyd; pining, miscommunication, fluff

POLY!JILY

a bad day by @moonstruckme; fluff

with reader who stayed up all night to read by @moonstruckme; fluff

with reader who has a chronic illness by @moonstruckme; hurt/comfort

POLY!PRONGSFOOT

tropi love and slushi kisses by @colouredbyd; fluff

*chanting* one of us by @ellecdc; fluff, banter and teasing

POLY!WOLFSTAR

the button nest by @colouredbyd; slow-burn, angst with a happy ending

reader is diabetic and low on sugar by @moonstruckme; angst with comfort

the names of real things by @colouredbyd; angst with hurt/comfort

POLY!BARTYLUS

you too, silly by @crescenthistory; miscommunication, yearning, hurt/comfort

oh, my, love is a lie! by @colouredbyd; miscommunication, yearning, hurt/comfort

a bad day by @ellecdc; hurt/comfort

POLY!ROSEKILLER

evan's little freak (affectionate) by @ellecdc; fluff

evan and barty help you ward off a creep by @ervotica; fluff, comfort

[mischievousmoony]

let’s show REAL authors some love

@/sophiasficarchive is a plagiarist. support REAL authors and their amazing work

UPDATE: her blog has been removed for violating user guidelines

mind blowing kisser by @yasministration

the girlification of steve harrington by @/yasministration

nothing’s gonna hurt you baby by @colouredbyd

chocolate and kisses on the cheek by @/colouredbyd

making up by @/colouredbyd

honey, darling, baby by @starry-eyed-moony

poly!marauders x fem!reader who is not pranking them right now by @ellecdc

playing with steve’s hair by @loveshotzz

walk him like a dog by @cipheress-to-k-pop

a christmas special by @moonstruckme

poly!Steddie x fem!reader by @/moonstruckme

we can play house, we can bed down by @thebestandworstdayofjune

dizzy on the comedown by @spider-stark

bestfriend!James Potter x fem!reader who drunkenly confesses her feelings by @prettydaisygirl

building blocks by me (self promotion is self love!)

please let me knows if you want to be untagged or removed from this list

but that’s not all! please let me know if you recognize the fics under the cut, i would LOVE to show support to the real writers of them

i found them all so far!! but if you notice that she’s posted again, please feel free to let me know!!

[thegoddessofnothingness]

Me after the slightest inconvenience in life:

[roze-latte-zz]

Pawprints in the snow - Regulus Black

Summary - When a snowy night tempts you into the courtyard in your white cat form, Regulus reluctantly follows as a sleek black shadow. What starts as a playful chase in the snow turns into laughter, warmth, and the first kiss that melts even Regulus Black’s icy walls.

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Snowflakes drifted down in lazy spirals outside the castle windows, blanketing the grounds in white. Most students huddled by the fire, groaning about frozen fingers and wet socks, but you had other plans. With a flick of your tail, you padded down the corridor in soft white fur, paws making no sound against the cold stone. The castle doors loomed ahead, icy wind already curling through the cracks.

A sleek black shape slipped after you, moving like a shadow. Regulus Black. He hadn’t exactly agreed to this little excursion; in fact, when you had darted past him in the common room, flicking your tail like an invitation, he had muttered something about ridiculous Gryffindor impulses. But of course, he followed. He always did.

The doors creaked open, and the world exploded into cold. Snowflakes landed on your whiskers, clinging to your fur until you looked like a little storm cloud. You bounded out happily, leaving neat pawprints in the courtyard. Behind you, Regulus stepped out slowly, placing his paws with deliberate distaste. His ears twitched flat, his tail lashed once. He looked utterly miserable.

You circled him playfully, brushing against his side. Too cold for the prince of Slytherin? His golden eyes narrowed, and he gave a disdainful flick of his tail, lifting one paw and shaking the snow from it like it had personally offended him.

You pounced.

One leap sent him sprawling sideways in the snow with an indignant hiss. He scrambled back up, fur puffed out, snow sticking comically to his whiskers. You batted his ear with a paw, chirped, and bolted away across the yard.

Regulus’s ears flattened. He stalked after you at first, every inch of him regal and deliberate, until he lunged suddenly and nearly caught your tail. You squealed and bounded away, the two of you darting across the snow like shadows. White and black streaks twisting together, prints trailing and crisscrossing in the glittering expanse.

It turned into a game of chase. You’d leap, roll, vanish into a snowbank; he’d track you with those sharp eyes, only to get ambushed when you sprang out and bowled him over again. By the time you finally collapsed, you were both coated in powder, little puffs of steam rising from your warm fur.

You curled yourself into the hollow of a snowdrift, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Regulus slunk down beside you, his fur damp and his expression thunderous. He looked like he regretted every choice that had led him here, but he didn’t move away. You pressed your nose against his cheek, daring him, and he huffed in that long-suffering way of his.

You’re insufferable, his glare said. But his tail curled, twining around yours. Black and white, spiraled together in the snow.

You shifted first, body unfolding and stretching back into your human form. Your fingers dug into the cold, and laughter tumbled out of you, sharp against the quiet air. “Merlin, that was brilliant!”

Regulus sat up in the drift, now himself again too, pale cheeks flushed from the cold. His dark hair stuck damply to his forehead, and he looked more like a boy caught in the storm than the polished Black heir. He brushed snow off his robes with a sharp flick of his wrist. “Brilliant,” he repeated flatly. “I look like a drowned Kneazle.”

“You look cute,” you blurted without thinking.

His ears flushed pink. “You—absolutely not.”

Grinning, you leaned close and brushed a bit of snow from his lashes. His breath hitched, grey eyes snapping to yours, and for a moment the world hushed. The air was thick with winter’s stillness, every sound muffled by the snow.

Then you shoved a snowball into his chest.

Regulus stared down at the melting mess on his robes. Slowly, very slowly, his eyes lifted to you. “You did not.”

You were already scrambling up, laughing so hard you nearly toppled back into the snow. “Run faster, Black!”

His scowl dissolved into something sharper, hungrier, and he lunged. You squeaked and tried to flee, but he caught you easily, tackling you back into the snow. Both of you tumbled, arms and legs and laughter, until he pinned your wrists above your head. His knee pressed against your side, and his hair fell in wet strands over his forehead as he loomed above you.

“Yield,” he demanded, though his lips were twitching.

You grinned up at him, cheeks stung pink by the cold, hair full of snowflakes. “Never.”

His eyes softened. For a moment, he just looked at you, really looked, like he was seeing you for the first time. His gaze lingered on your smile, the snow clinging to your lashes, the way your breath rose in soft clouds between you. Then he bent, hesitating only a second before brushing his lips against yours.

It was quick, unsure, like he hadn’t meant it. He pulled back almost immediately, horrified at himself.

You didn’t give him the chance to spiral. Laughing breathlessly, you tugged him down again by the collar, and this time the kiss melted the cold away. His lips were soft and cautious, but he kissed you like he’d been waiting far too long. The snow beneath you felt warmer, the air sharper, your heartbeat loud in your ears.

When you finally broke apart, your noses touched, your hands still tangled in his.

“You’re not so bad in the snow,” you whispered.

Regulus’s mouth curved in a small, rare smile. “Only with you.”

The wind picked up, sending another flurry down over your heads. You both groaned, laughing as you struggled up and shook snow from your hair. He muttered about frostbite, but when you shifted back into your white-furred self and padded toward the castle, he was right at your side, black fur brushing yours with every step.

By the time you made it back to the common room, you were both dripping and shivering. Regulus shifted back and collapsed in front of the fire with a sigh, looking every bit the dignified prince undone. You trotted over as a cat and curled yourself against his chest.

He didn’t push you away. His hand found your fur instead, stroking in slow, careful motions until his eyes slipped shut.

And as the fire cracked and the snow kept falling outside, you thought maybe, just maybe, winter wasn’t so cold after all.

[roze-latte-zz]

The Rustle of Leaves

★ The Golden Trio ★

★ Poly!Marauders ★

★ James Potter ★

★ Sirius Black ★

★ Remus Lupin ★

★ Regulus Black ★

★ Marauder ships and other charecters ★

★ Slytherine Skittles ★

★ Marvel ★

★ Pjo / Hoo ★

★ Wednesday ★

★ The Folk Of Air ★

★ f1 ★

★ stranger things ★

more coming very soon !! <33 divider credits to @uzmacchiato

[alwaystightrope]

an honest to god laugh just escaped from my mouth

[dailymilesmorales]

SpiderVerse: A new look at Spider-Man: Beyond the #SpiderVerse. In theatres 6.18.2027. 🕸️